The other day, I was catcalled by a construction worker. I also happened to be holding my 2 year-old son. As my brain swirled with righteous indignation, anger at the classlessness of objectifying a woman in front of her small male child, and the witty retorts that I’d been saving up since the last time I was catcalled on a construction site… My son lost it. Lost it. “Hiiii DIGGERS, hiiii! Mama, see diggers? A crane! A scoop! Dumpppppppp TRUCK!” {Read More}
D.I.Y. urban clubhouse/reading nook/eye injury. (Part 1.)
June 2, 2016 By 1 Comment
“I used to have a great clubhouse/tree fort/Terabithia-like bit o’ wilderness in which to play as a youth,” you reminisce. “But then I moved to a city and had kids. And those kids dig in playlot wood chips and a part of my soul dies a tad,” you admit. What to do?! Oh guys, it’s so simple. As long as you’re: a) delusional b) in possession of a side alley/renting from a super understanding landlord c) up to date on {Read More}
Tick tock, Springfield: Chicago Public Schools are crashing & burning.
May 19, 2016 By Leave a Comment
Chicago has a problem. Truth be told, Chicago has many problems, but aside from gun violence, political nepotism, and the inability to moderate debauchery on [the Saturday before] St. Patrick’s Day, the biggest problem is the state of the public schools. After devastating, city-wide cuts earlier this year (during which time our arts-focused CPS lost one of its art teachers), it was recently announced that a further slashing of up to 30% is looking pretty darned imminent. For my kid’s {Read More}
3 reasons I’m not blogging today.
May 12, 2016 By Leave a Comment
I’m not blogging today. Here are 3 very good, quite legit reasons: 1) It’s raining. Like, again. Like, it’s like the Pacific Northwest on crack this week. (Ease up on the fog cover, Grumpy Bear. You’re making everyone cry.) 2) I’m done with words for the week. I’ve been done with words for the week since Tuesday morning at 8:36 a.m., or thereabouts. 3) I took a six year-old to a 3 act ballet last night. It was an exceptional {Read More}
Dandelions. (And anxiety. And guilt. But mostly dandelions.)
May 5, 2016 By 1 Comment
The Scene: 9 a.m., mostly sunny day. The double stroller is packed to the gills with everything needed for a one hour-long jaunt to the park and picnic (i.e. blankets, diapers, lunch, snacks, water bottles, inflated ball, hats, sunscreen, wipes, more snacks, lovies, back-up lovies, solitary sandal (…?), mostly deflated other ball) Susannah sees a grassy median covered with hundreds of dandelions. Hundreds. Susannah: Mom, can we stop and get one for my vase? I’ll put it on my bedside {Read More}
The craziest thing I’ve ever seen in the sky. (A Dad story.)
April 28, 2016 By 6 Comments
Let me tell you about this dream I had. Only, it one thousand percent wasn’t a dream and I one trillion percent know that I was wide-awake the whole time. With me? It’s weird. So. The day of my Dad’s birthday- what would’ve been his 65th birthday- we celebrated with his favorite meal from the Colombian chicken place down the street. (That’s a joke- they were all his favorite meal.) We sang the Beatles and Springsteen and- even though it {Read More}
Spring break (has changed)!
April 21, 2016 By 1 Comment
Quick post from the trenches of Spring Break Cousin-Land! For those just joining us, I ask you a question: What happens when two Flynn girls bring their 7 kids (ages 2, almost-3, 4, 5, 6, 8, and almost-10) together in a Chicago house (hypothetically mine) for a week of high-pitched giggling? This: And various children sleeping in various sprawled sleeping arrangements, long, mandatory marches across play lots and parks, and meal times that are more reminiscent of trough feedings than {Read More}
Tired voices.
April 7, 2016 By 1 Comment
Sometimes, the tired voices win. I’m not talking about my kids’ voices, either. (FYI, they don’t have Tired Voices. They have decidedly Not Tired Voices.) No, I’m talking about the ones in my daytime brain- the same ones that whisper excitedly about aloe plants and oil changes at 3 a.m.- only during traditional waking hours, they’re the thoughts that encourage me to faceplant on a pile of questionably clean towels or on the stairs while wrestling with a toddler shoe. {Read More}
