Super Mom

September 2, 2014

A few years ago I bought this larger-than-average “latte” mug on a whim during a particularly trying trip with three boys to Marshalls/Homegoods. I bought it for two reasons: one, it matched the blue in my kitchen and two, I wasn’t feeling much like a super mom at that moment but for under $10.00, I would have something I could shove in nosy strangers faces if they dared question whether I

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Memè

August 21, 2014

My Memè, or “Mémère”, if we were feeling fancy was what we called my father’s mother. It’s a French-Canadian nickname for grandmother, and though she didn’t have a lick of french blood in her veins, my gram did love a French-Canadian man, so it seemed natural that this is the nickname she’d choose to have her grandchildren call her. The memè I remember was a plump, jolly old lady, always

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A Letter to Bear, Who is Now Four

August 16, 2014

Dear Bear, Who is Now Four, This letter is almost a week late. Sorry pal, you’re the middle child, might as well get used to it. Luckily, you figured out quickly that being the middle child means constantly being forgotten and ignored, and you are NOT letting that shit happen to you, no matter how far up your father and my butts you have to shove yourself.  I haven’t pooped alone in

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Manicotti

August 7, 2014

My father is incredibly good at many different things, one of them being cooking. I’m a pretty good cook, having learned from him, but I don’t have the passion for it that he does. Unlike myself, my father comes home from work every night and actually wants to cook and most of our meals were made by him when we were kids. In fact, while growing up, if my mom

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The Box

August 4, 2014