Posts Tagged Under dirty laundry
DILDOS are My New BFFs
I have been happily married for more than ten years and I still have a great sex life with my husband. But lately I can’t get over my obsession with DILDOS.
I don’t mean sex toys. I’m talking about Dads I’d Like to DO!
I love my husband. Really. But I can’t help it. I fantasize about other men. In particular: Dads. They all hold a certain appeal. It could be looks, charm or a sarcastic sense of humor.
I think about them constantly. Continue… »
By Cathy BurkeAn Unexpected Twist on Parenting
You know the scene in the movie when the Mom goes into the kid’s room to give a last good night kiss, and instead they find a faux human made of pillows, and the kid has run off somewhere?
When our daughter was missing from her bed, I did not react as calmly as Donna Reed might have in Father Knows Best. I don’t know who would have known best in the situation I found myself in, but it sure wasn’t me in that moment of discovery.
“OH MY GAWD!!!!” I screamed out for my husband. “HENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
By Gloria SaltzmanThe Voices that Reside in Every Mother’s Head
For the better part of the last year or two, I have had the incessant and annoying company of a small but loud voice in my head that catalogues every virtuous/maternal/helpful deed I perform throughout the day.
“Look at me, I’m doing the laundry. Now I’m ordering more diapers and wipes online. Thank God for me. And now I’m remembering everybody’s jackets and hats and snacks as I head out the door, and on my way out I’ll take out the trash and put those letters in the mailbox. Check, check, check.”
With each action completed, I itemized all the ways in which my being at home with our children was necessary, beneficial. How hard I was working! How much was getting done because of me! And, yet, no one had ever questioned the importance of my role. Not one person in my life had so much as commented on the way I have chosen to spend my time: raising our children.
By Eliza Harding TurnerMother Finds Religion, Along with Dirty Laundry
“Maybe she’s practicing for the Rapture,” I think, picking my way across the house from one pile of discarded clothing to the next.
I envision her spontaneous uplift into the heavens, leaving all worldly possessions behind, including socks, underwear and crumpled dirty Kleenex.
That’s how I deal with my daughter’s messiness. It sure beats the daily temptation to shout at her for being such a slob.
By Lorrie Goldin
