parenting

Make-up is meant to make you more attractive. And in the case of little girls, attractive to whom? Pageant judges, for one. Dance judges. Cheerleading judges. People who are going to tell her if she’s good enough to win a trophy or not, in sports that typically objectify and sexualize little girls. Moms, step away from the powder puff.

There were (are) many things that people warned me about when it came to the parenthood transition. But of course, no one prepared me for how having a child would affect my sexual relationship with my husband.

Minimalism is great in concept, especially when you’re looking at someone else’s well-curated life. Declutter, simplify, own only things that bring you joy. This is all well and good for the twenty-something living in a one bedroom apartment, beholden to no one. When you’re a parent, however, minimalism gets a lot more complicated.

Building a society without stereotypical gender confines must start from the ground up.

Little things, everything would annoy me. I couldn’t keep it down. I lost my temper, over and over. I felt the strain of it all, the sheer exhaustion of parenting two young kids. But it was more than that. This anger was reminiscent of something buried deep within me. A piece of my past that I’d buried down so far I didn’t even know it was there anymore.

I am alone.

I have three children (and a husband, a dog, a cat, three budgies, and three fish) as well as a job, friends, and family. If it weren’t for the busy mom hacks I’ve honed and developed over the years my family wouldn’t be washed, dressed or fed, not to mention all the work I have to busy myself with each and every minute of every day.

I have a confession to make. Target, meh. I’m just not that into it.