“Always wear your invisible crown.” Tiffany Thompson
What does being treated like a Princess mean to you?
Do you think of Kate dodging the press as well as the Saskatchewan wind that threatens to expose her g-string? Or Leia, whose brutal honesty and courage won over even Trekkie fans?
Perhaps the image of a princess during the Middle Ages comes to mind – a tween restricted from interaction with the public. One bloodying fingers with embroidery needles as she prepared to marry some noble dude whose spawn had a high chance of killing her in childbirth.
No, no, and no…
I know I’m not the first person to forget a wedding anniversary. Waking up this morning my head was filled with lists of To Dos rather than wishes for a 17th wedding anniversary I really can’t care about.
“Since tomorrow will be busy packing,” said my son last night, post-dinner on the deck, presenting us with a homemade card. That’s code for mom-will-turn-into-a-crazy-yelling-freak-as-we-get-everything-ready-for-our-vacation. We played our wedding song, which was the same music he’d cued up on the computer while kneeling beside me in his great aunt’s office nine months before we vowed our mortal existences to one another.
Okay, the doctor didn’t actually order me to do it. Though I’m sure I could bribe Michael Burg, MD (AKA Medium Michael Burg) for a medical note.
Holidays are here. A week of snuggling into an Adirondack cradling coffee as the mist rises off the channel — long before any human-from-my-womb destroys the solitude — is seriously exciting. My goals involve a stack of library material, only peeling off my bikini at bedtime, and meandering the lake in the canoe several times a day.
Oh, and not murdering my husband of course. Yes, the one who started this morning by…
“So this really isn’t a creepy stalker van?” she asks, leaning forward on the wobbly air mattress. Purposefully sporting a bra that’s a size too small she watches her own mounds attempt to escape her v-neck.
“No,” he assures her, gently dragging his nails across her forearm. Watching goosebumps line up in his wake, he notices her sighs deepen. “I’m a prepper.”
“Yeah, so am I,” she cackles. Musical notes of laughter echo throughout the van, absorbed by the sheet-covered makeshift bed and reflective window coverings.
Only half an hour ago had they officially met. Days of teasing texts and…
You’ve never made an error, right? So you probably won’t have ever experienced the paradox of performing an act that you just finished lecturing your teens to never, ever, ever do.
I have been out of my ma’s womb for almost five decades and I’m still adding things to my “Dumb Things I’ve Done” list. This new one scrawled below
Dearest Homeschooling Parents,
First off, I’m in awe of you. You do an incredible job.
Second, please know that I am in no way advocating that what’s considered “normal school” is superior. Or that it’s a better choice. Our public education system is a very broken one. It’s founded on principles, ideals, and reasons for doing things in certain ways that no longer apply.
Third, counter to common belief, I know that homeschooling does NOT create deprived or socially inept people. I’m willing to bet that there are more sociopathic bomb makers who attended public school.
I am NOT arguing…
Here I am, a sparkling bejeweled tiara, in my new home in The Tower of London. Desperate for camaraderie and advice.
After having been rubbed raw with that damn jewel cloth, I shiver in the calm and silence. A burp of a gag escapes me — the stench of ammonia adheres still. After an uncomfortable night in which sleep was further than the fire alarm lever, the other tiaras have decided to welcome me.
“Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get used to being here,” Spencer Tiara assures me, a rainbow reflecting off the diamonds that curlicue into a heart. …
Satirical takes on all life chucks my way. Christian, Spouse/Caregiver, Mom, Teacher, World Traveler, Coffee Addict, Crack of Dawn Runner, Book Binger