Growing Pains

Today I'm writing a post I promised to Sarah Fader of Stigma Fighters*. The piece, about living with and being vocal about mental illness, is due tomorrow (ohai procrastination) and being part of Sigma Fighters is super important to me.

Also important is a piece I've been working on is a submission to the HerStories Project's upcoming publication Mothering Through the Darkness. I saw that the deadline was moved back a month to January 1st on the exact same day I was lamenting having missed it, and am trying to take that as motivation to, I dunno, not miss it again. The topic, mothering in the face of postpartum depression (and other struggles) seems right up my alley, right? Just like Stigma Fighters is right up my alley. Hello alley, here I am! I write for you now, you lucky bastard!

In reality, I am totally freaking out.


Last week I sat down to do tell you about my second week doing NaBloPoMo. Moments after the piece was published, my blog went offline.

"Is the internet down?" I asked. Ian went downstairs to check on geeky Ian things and trudged back up the stairs a few moments later.
"Well," he said. "We're under attack."

The Real Reason I Have Children

We started taking down our Halloweeen decorations and Iliana protested. "I don't want to," she said. (She says that a lot.)

"Don't worry," I told her, "Thanksgiving is next and we have to make hand turkeys and all that kind of stuff."
"Hand? Turkeys?" Oh, the hilarity of a mindblown three year-old.
"Yes!" I said and started gathering supplies. Construction paper. Glue. Pipe cleaners. Squeeze bottles of tempra paint so old that I was surprised they weren't just bricks of color.

How the IRS Made Me a Better Housewife (those jerks)

Two months ago, we got notice from the IRS that our monthly payment on our 2008 tax bill was being increased. We've been chipping away at that gargantuan debt the best we can, but still there's a lien on the house and a hefty lump of cash deducted from our checking account every month. But since the IRS finally calculated that we wouldn't be able to pay off our debt within their 10 year time budget, the hefty lump had to get a bit heftier.

Yeah, totally. Of course I cried.

One Hundred Word Wednesday: Teamwork

He's done everything else himself: the framing and wiring and cabling and cussing.

(Okay, so maybe I've done some cussing of my own.)

But we signed up the daughter for an extra day of school and tromped down into the dusty mess of sheetrock . I was his second set of eyes, asking if that was where the cut really needed to be. (It wasn't.) (I am a hero.)

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