People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

As predictable as sleepless nights with a newborn…

As predictable as spring winds in Albuquerque…

As predictable as taxes on April 15 in the US…

That’s how predictable I am.

My sons are both nearly perfect physical replicas of their fathers, what people have called, ever since those weird Austin Powers movies, a “mini . . . → Read More: As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

Isolation, Connection, and the Infinitely Recurring Memoir Controversy

This post by Alex at Late Enough led me to this post by Neil at Citizen of the Month which led me to this piece by Neil Genzlinger at the New York Times Sunday Book Review.

Genzlinger’s piece is called “The Problem With Memoirs” and opens with the memorable line, “[a]┬ámoment of silence, please, . . . → Read More: Isolation, Connection, and the Infinitely Recurring Memoir Controversy

Oprah Takes On Pediatric Mental Illness

If you live in an age of social media, and if the most powerful woman in television does a show about something you are experiencing in your own life, you will get a nice, long look at exactly what the world thinks of you.

Which is…….shall we say…….enlightening.

Oprah featured Zach, a young boy . . . → Read More: Oprah Takes On Pediatric Mental Illness

Aftermath

I don’t usually give advice. Even if you ask me for advice, I might shrug because really, why would I think that I know more than you about anything?

But grief…I know a lot about that. It’s a shitty thing on which to be an expert, but that doesn’t mean I should let that . . . → Read More: Aftermath

Under Siege

My head hurts.

Actually, I have pain from my forehead, up and around the back of my head, down into my neck, and spreading across my shoulders and down to my back.

Why? Because I don’t like my kid much these days, and that’s a shitty way to be feeling.

If I had a . . . → Read More: Under Siege

The 2011 Award for Best Use of Peer Pressure for the Good of Humanity and Its Limited Supply of Brain Cells Goes To Jacob (plus some other stuff)

Jacob found out that his friend Hector* had been smoking pot with some of his other friends.

Jacob’s response went something like, “Dude, that’s stupid. I’m not hanging out with you if you’re smoking.”

A few days later, Hector called Jacob and said, “Hey dude, let’s hang out!”

Jacob answered, “Dude, no way. I . . . → Read More: The 2011 Award for Best Use of Peer Pressure for the Good of Humanity and Its Limited Supply of Brain Cells Goes To Jacob (plus some other stuff)

Grief Is a Rising Tide

At 11:32 on Wednesday night, Brian’s cell phone rang. By the time he unhooked and removed his C-PAP mask, found his pants, and dislodged the phone from one of his pockets, he had missed the call. He saw that the call had come from his parents’ house and he knew the news wouldn’t be . . . → Read More: Grief Is a Rising Tide

More Similar Than Different

If you aren’t steeped in the mental health blogosphere, you probably missed the story of a Waunakee, WI high school dance team’s recent prize-winning performance, “We Get Crazy.” The LaCrosse Tribune says that the routine featured “all 18 dancers bouncing to hip-hop music, their hair wild, heavy black makeup on their snarling faces, and . . . → Read More: More Similar Than Different

The Mother I Was, the Mother I Am, and the Mother I Wish I Could Be

Brian and Carter have gone to bed, closing out a day that I’d just as soon have skipped.┬áThere was yelling today. Also some stomping on the stairs, several episodes door slamming, and, of course, the requisite cursing.

I wish I could say that all the bad behavior belonged to the small person who has . . . → Read More: The Mother I Was, the Mother I Am, and the Mother I Wish I Could Be

Butt Holes and Baby Bunnies

At dinner, I asked Brian what I should write about tonight.

This is a pathetic gesture which usually means that all the blog post ideas in my little idea file seem too cerebral and my brain is tired.

Asking for ideas is a pathetic gesture because, of the several dozen times I have asked . . . → Read More: Butt Holes and Baby Bunnies

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