Get me through this flight

You know how when you’re traveling with kids on a plane your only goal, besides getting to your destination, is that your kid not be the worst-behaved child on the plane?

Not the loudest? Not the most screamy?

Well, today we failed.

We tried and we failed.

We had a great vacation, and now it’s over. On one hand, I’m really happy to be home and have my own space and privacy. But on the other, all our support is gone and now we have to go back to doing everything ourselves.

And oh my GLOB, Oregon is freaking cold.

In closing, a haiku:

Get me through this flight

Crying, screaming, thrashing, sigh

I am so tired

NaBloPoMo Day 28


The beauty of this place

We hiked five miles today, just the two of us.

This was where we met, where we worked together for several summers, where we fell in love, and where he proposed.

It was great to be back. I missed the beauty of this place.



NaBloPoMo Day 27

Snacks on a Plane



We’re going home to California for the week of Thanksgiving and I’m all excited to BE there, but I am not at all excited to GET there.

Here’s how it’s gonna play out. I pack and worry and scream to try and make everyone be on time. Then I’ll worry some more about what we forgot and being on time. Dylan will break down in the security line and go to his dark place where he goes limp on the floor. Audrey will thrash so hard in the Ergo that she’ll ram her head on my sternum and make several bruises. And that’s all before we get on the plane.

On the plane there will be more thrashing and seat kicking and trying to reach buttons and wanting to crawl down the aisle. And the kids will act up too. (See what I did there? I’ll be here all week.)

Once we touch down in the land of milk and honey, we’ll be greeted by loving, rested grandparents ready to whisk our children away for stimulating play and healthy snacks while Brian and I fall asleep pass out for 5 days. Then we’ll wake up and eat turkey and mashed potatoes and go comatose for another 3.

Too soon it will be time to get on another plane and head back to Waterworld Oregon, where hopefully our cat hasn’t resentfully pooped on our pillows and vomited in our shoes. All the dirty laundry will steep in a small, smelly mountain in the hallway where I hope it will get so rank it’ll one day grow legs and walk itself into the washing machine.

I’ve decided that I’d actually like to enjoy our trip, so I plan to re-blog some of my favorite old posts while I’m gone, especially since I have some new readers and I’d like to share some pieces of which I’m rather proud.

Stay tuned, dear Psychos.

NaBloPoMo Day 16

Happy Blogiversary to Me

I don’t know what to write today.

Usually when that happens, I write a poem. I scrape together some stream of consciousness and parse it into lines of prose.

WordPress reminded me that today is my blogiversary. I’ve been blogging since 2011. Six whole years. That’s nuts.

I am a very different person now than I was then. That was before I became a licensed therapist. Before getting engaged, promoted to running the therapy department at my old job, married, quit job, moved, pregnant, house, baby, then one more baby. I wonder if all that is reflected in my writing? It’s hard for me to tell.

But I’m still here and I’m still me.

I’m proud that I’ve kept this up for so long, and through everything that’s happened. It’s sad that the vast majority of the little blogging community I was a part of when I first started has disappeared. I miss them. I miss reading other blogs and getting comments and feedback from them. I felt like I knew them. I wish them well, wherever they are and whatever they’re doing. I wonder how long the average blogger lasts?

Here’s a pic of yours truly from 2013, in California, post licensure, promotion, and engagement, but pre-wedding and everything else. I was reminded of this pic when I wrote my poem from yesterday (except it’s totally not raining, I know, but the way I felt was the same), but in my haste to post I forgot to search for the picture to accompany. Enjoy.


aaaaand now it took me so long to find the picture on my computer that it’s after midnight so I technically missed posting for Day 11. FML.

NaBloPoMo Day 11 because I say so, dammit.

Amber Waves of Matrimony

Hello, readership.  I’ve missed you.  Have you missed me?  Don’t answer that.

Did you know that planning a wedding can be very hard?  Yup, this Mutha Fackin’ Marriage and Family Therapist is getting married.  Making it honest.  But honestly, how do people plan a wedding and see their clients and manage a therapy department AND write blog posts?   Paging Wonder Woman!

It’s like that pie chart y’all saw in college: in the legend you have school, friends, and sleep.  And that pie only gots room for two.  Mmm, pie.

Right now Brian and I are looking for a venue.

It’s hard because we have taste.  Normal people might call this being picky, but I just call them a-holes.

We have this vision of what we want, and we are surprised and frustrated that we haven’t found it yet.  Picture this:  it’s a hill in the countryside of Northern California.  There is dead, dry golden grass.  There are gorgeous, twisty oak trees.  The sun is setting and it gives everything a warm, golden glow.  There’s a barn that’s rustic but not too dirty or full of horse poop.  Maybe an animal or two, just hanging out.  And there we are, stuffing cake into the other’s face, acting all lovey-dovey you could just ralph.

*cue angels singing*

Doesn’t that sound amazing?!

That was the environment in which we met and started dating at this summer camp for kids, and it was kindof awesome.

That’s all well and good, but it seems to be proving hard to find a venue that is rustic but not too rustic, and that is conducive to having a wedding, but not so conducive that it’s like a freaking wedding factory.

And then once I find a venue (or once I get so desperate for a venue) that looks pretty cool, isn’t perfect, but I could see it working, then Brian vetoes it.  And vice versa.

Dear, sweet mother of god I hope marriage doesn’t require so much freaking compromise, because I am already sick of it.

Someone give me a barn along with an unlimited amount of money, stat.