Elder abuse

Hey, my March Redbook column is online! What!

Of course you already read it because you subscribed the moment you heard I was to be a regular columnist--but just in case you lost your copy when you had to throw it at a snake, or accidentally dropped it in your hot tub, here you go. With the online version, you're missing out on the illustrations, which is a shame. Next time take better care of your copy, would you?

You expect all kinds of discomfort when you have a baby. First there are the mild to moderate to are you kidding me twinges during pregnancy and the standard physical and emotional marathon of labor and delivery (plus ensuing flashbacks). Then you brace for the blinding pain of those first few days of nursing, the full-body aches and madness that come with sleep deprivation. Sure. Me, I signed up for all that. I was ready.

But then it turns out that your child continues to inflict pain upon you. The professionals couch this in terms such as boundary testing or tactile/kinesthetic exploration, but the fact is your kid will beat you up.

Read the rest there, and if you feel the need, you can comment! (You do need to register first, in order to have commenting privileges.)

Once again, here's more rambling about stuff I'm doing that's not here

I have an essay in the December issue of The Sun! It's called "Eighteen Attempts at Writing About a Miscarriage," and it's about how much I love unicorns. I can hear some of you grumbling, is she still talking about that miscarriage, for Pete's sake? or probably that's my Inner Critic bashing me again, but anyway I actually wrote this quite a while ago. Now shut your mouth, Inner Critic.

Anyway, this essay was originally accepted at another magazine, and they were incredibly gung ho about it and it was amazing to see my work get that kind of reaction, and then the magazine shut down and all our hearts were broken. (Then they gave me a super-secret-special release from my contract, which is why I am not naming it, shhhh.) I couldn't think of a single other place this could go, so when The Sun stepped up I was thrilled. It's an incredible magazine, if you've never seen it, and it's pretty widely distributed. Just go to the sad little dark nook of the literary magazine area in Barnes and Noble. Right there, behind "Car and Driver."

I don't know if it's out yet, officially--but I will let you know when I see it in the bookstores and/or when it's up on their site.

Well! We've got a Momversation backlog, kids, so let's see what we've been up to over at that site, shall we? If you hate these, you may now turn away in disgust. And I know that the word "Momversation" rubs some of you the wrong way, but I swear we don't use the term all that much in the actual videos. It would be great if we did, though. "In today's Momversation, I want to Momverse with you, because I've Momserved that Moms today are BLAM." That ending was me slamming my head in a door.

Here's the video we did on depression. It felt really good to be talking about depression from the other side, and I've received many emails on this one. Depression is, clearly, a complex topic, and we couldn't really explore all the facets of it in one fiveish-minute video, but I think this was a good jumping off point for further discussion:

On a much lighter note, here's a look at our pets. Our doggies and kitties! And more!

First of all, I am wearing my workout clothes in this one, and I have crazy hair. I am getting a little too comfortable taping these things. Secondly, Charlie the Dog is terrified of the teeny video camera, for some reason, and he usually vamooses the minute I set the thing up, so I was holding onto him as firmly as possible during this and he was trembling all over and releasing every bit of fur he could part with onto my lap. It was a little sad. I'm amazed that he wasn't hairless by the time I was through with him.

And finally, my cat, I KNOW. She is enormous. What can I say? I'd tell you she's just a big-boned girl, but she actually seems to be kind of delicate in stature--at least, as far as I can tell from the parts sticking out of her gigantic midsection.

Introducing…

I am kind of unbearably excited to unveil the hitherto-unnamed project to which I’ve been referring for the last few weeks. So here we go:

Eden Marriott Kennedy and I are proud to announce our new website, LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES!

LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES! is meant to be a helpful and soothing companion during your child-bearing and –raising years. In this comprehensive and frighteningly detailed site, we answer such questions as, should I avoid cats? (Answer: more than you know.) Or how did this baby get in me? (Science has yet to find an answer to this mystery.) Or why does my baby’s head smell so good? (When no one’s looking, babies rub a special balm into their bald little heads: a patented blend of civet musk, tapioca powder, and holy water. )

So. If you want to be comforted by the knowledge that your newborn baby is not the only one who looks like Ernest Borgnine, or if you're wondering why a t-shirt is the most tasteful way to tell the world you're expecting, look no further!

Please note: LET’S PANIC ABOUT BABIES! is not just for people who are about to give birth, are currently giving birth, or have recently given birth. I have been told that the site is an important source of information even if you never intend to have a baby or, indeed, if you hate the very sight of them. So please, go there. Read. Continue to read, as we will be updating weekly. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we cracked ourselves up writing it.

[final update: after some server troubles, all is now well. The End.]

Why, hello there.

I know, I know, when will she update and get something up that's not that uplifting slice-of-life crap, SHEESH. When most of the comments are "Awwww," I know there's a backlash brewing somewhere, a portion of my readership that's retching into their cupped hands.

He's just so cute these days, damn it. A while back I told Henry that I have a terrible problem because all I want to do is hug him, and he told me, "That's not a problem, it's love." Now all I have to do is give him a look and say "Henry" in a plaintive voice, and he says, "Moo-oom, it's just love, don't worry about it." I can't stand it! So cute! A wuzza wuzza!

Okay, I'll stop, okay. But seriously, nothing's going on over here. I'm trying to write this book thing, which means I'm hiding under my desk and rocking back and forth, forth and back. It goes on like that for hours. If I'm sucking my thumb, I won't admit to it, but anyway I certainly am not.

Here's something! The May issue of Wondertime is out, and it contains my essay, which you can see here on their website. The print article has all the cute pictures of Henry and Scott, whereas the web version just has the one picture of me, in which I'm wearing cinnamon buns and looking like something smells terrible. Since the picture was taken in our kitchen, this is more than possible.