Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Zine. Because I Miss the 90s, Perchance?

I've been toying with the idea of making a zine for a while. I need a creative outlet. I am trying to get back into blogging, but as I may have mentioned, I struggle for topics not related to toddler poop and/or sleep depravation, although moreso the poop issues, recently, thank goodness.

And whoever thought I'd say that?


"I am not a Kleenex!"

"Knives are not for throwing."

"Please let me go to the grocery store." (Alone)

"Would you like a bite of my Nutella crepe?"

"Your love is suffocating me. *GAG* Literally. Please stop hugging mommy around her jugular with your tiny but freakishly strong toddler thumbs." (Paraphrased)

"No, we're not buying any M&Ms." *sob*

"My gray hairs ARE beautiful, thanks baby."

"No more peeing on my shoes. I MEAN IT THIS TIME."

Anywhos. Zine! I have decided I may have a chance at less poopy, more interesting things to publish if a) I force others to participate b) I have to go to Kinkos to make copies c) there is potential for glitter usage.

What do you think, internets? Am I just nostalgic for the 90s? Do I not wear enough black? Would you buy one if I made it? (If I promise to send any profit to a nice, hopefully thematic-ish charity? [And I'm talking like, $1 here, people. Girl's gotta buy aforementioned glitter.]) Should I just get a job and talk to other adults in the real world already?

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


A number of people have asked, joked, or been giving meaningful glances at my slightly-more-bloated-than-usual abdomen (which is purely due to the re-discovery of an old high school favorite ice cream sandwich, but thanks for noticing, mother-in-law) and so I am here to relieve you of any doubt, NACHT, no more babies.


Here is my deep, dark secret: I want another two-year-old so badly. Miss Thang is amazing. Full of "why's" and tantrums, but also primative jokes, terribly off-key singing, whole-body hugs, and actual conversation. I adore her. I always have. I have loved her deeply, from the second she appeared, but that first year was really fucking hard work and I struggled to keep my sanity, no joke there. Now it's (mostly) just fun. And I would love to have another, but I have not developed the amnesia about how hard it was at the beginning. (Plus, you know, all the swelling and bleeding and whatnot to get her here in the first place.)

Mostly I am terrified to have another because of darling little haikus that I would write, tears streaming down my face as I felt like my nipples were slowly being ripped off, much like this one:

Three o'clock A.M.
Death would be better than this.
Go the fuck to sleep.

But you know what? A year and a half later, I realize it was so, so worth it that I wish for another. I am glad I did it. I am just not sure I could survive it again, and that would really suck, because life is really good right now. Meanwhile, I suggest you get yourself an It's-It for a little taste of heaven.