Over the course of the past year, participating in book clubs at my local library, one of the things that came up was video conferencing etiquette around pronouns. One of the moderators asked us to state our gender pronouns at the beginning of the call. I went with it that first time, but I felt really uncomfortable about it.
Any week, I could begin to tell you how I’m doing by saying I’ve been striving, and each week it would be no less true than the one before.
Today, many times, my eighteen year old son flew past the house on his motorized scooter wearing slides and no helmet, doing wheelies in the rain. I debated internally whether to call out to him to put a helmet on, and maybe proper shoes. He is of age, and he knows how I feel about safety.
I didn’t say anything.
It’s that time again, where there are three books sitting next to my laptop, waiting to be shared, but they have nothing in common.
Come along! There is fiction, nonfiction, and beautifully illustrated science, coming right up.
The past several years, seasonal affective disorder (SAD) has been slamming me to the mat pretty hard.
Why mention that when we are closing in on the longest day of the year? Maybe it’s that the days’ scandalous length are a constant reminder of the contrast come winter. Having a doomsday attitude about life helps me prepare for the rougher bits, and part of that is Summer Laura making gifts for Winter Laura.
I wanted to write a sweet memory post about this little dude today, on the day he turns four.
It was hard to get in the mood for this type of nostalgic, reflective writing. Honesty, I’m still not in the mood. We’re all in a bad way today. School burnout. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, everyone.
The kids keep reminding the baby of all the things he SHOULD get on his birthday, like special food and presents, when no presents have been bought (because he’s four, doesn’t need anything, and but for the reminders from others, really wouldn’t care), and the cake hasn’t been made yet.
