Kid: “Why are you called a tutor? Is it because you TOOT A LOT??!?!?”
(5 minutes of maniacal laughter at own joke)
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Family Planning, Part 2
(Related to Family Planning )
Eric just learned that his company offers paid paternity leave. This, naturally, lead to a serious, contemplative discussion about parenthood.
(No, I’m not pregnant).
We’re obviously kidding, relax.
They’ll be a soccer team.
I hate football.
I’m Sure This is Normal
Two days ago, beloved Grandma dies: stay surprisingly positive. Recognize that she was 96, lived a full life, and I was lucky to have had her with me for as long as I did. Feel nostalgic but optimistic.
Tonight, wait over 30 minutes on platform for a subway train: have complete nervous breakdown. Cry in public. Throw shit. Feel like world is ending and nothing is fair. Curse at ceiling.
So yeah I’m fine.
I Bet You’re ALSO Glad I Have a Blog
We’re Moving
That is BRAND NEW INFORMATION
On the phone with my mom…
Mom: “So I guess Dad and I are never getting our car back, huh?”
Me: “Ummm, incorrect. I sent Dad an entire email detailing how Zack is going to drive it back to Maryland next weekend.”
Mom: “Oh, Dad didn’t tell me.”
Me: “Shocking.”
Mom: “Well, next time you email information like that, just include me on it, because Dad doesn’t tell me anything.”
Me: “Ok.”
Mom: “Actually, you know. There’s a secret way you can include me on the email, so he can’t even see.”
Me: “There IS?!?!?”
Mom: “Yes it’s called a blind copy.”
Oh I See What You Did There
Parent of student: “Why isn’t her math improving more?!”
Me (aloud): “Progress takes time.”
Me (internally): “Little do you know, ‘Progress takes time’ is just my vague, polite, professional code for GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK, LADY– I see your kid one hour a week. If she doesn’t put in the effort between sessions, well…I’M NOT A GODDAMN WIZARD.”
Me: “Why aren’t I improving more?!”
Therapist: “Progress takes time.”
Happy 4/9 Months!
Some people take the beautiful, romantic, meaningful notion of a wedding very seriously, and others spontaiously decide to get married early, months before the wedding, for wholly unromantic but practical reasons like needing health insurance, and have to promise their mothers they won’t tell the wedding guests they’re already legally husband and wife because it would “take away from the special feel of the weekend” if guests knew that they already got married by signing some papers over a casual brunch with two friends and an underwhelemed waiter at Felice 64 wine bar on January 21st, right before heading over to the Women’s March to protest Trump and his pussy-grabbing, which is just kind of sad and ridiculous and bizarre and totally in conflict with the fairy tale lovey dovey-ness that society deems should be a wedding.
Which is why we did it.
Marriage
Sometimes marriage is amazing. 
And then sometimes marriage is opening the kitchen trashcan and being hit in the face with a hot, steamy pile of rancid ass-odor because your husband threw out an entire pot of right-off-the-stove broccoli, closed the lid, and left it there to fester, mix with and heat up the rest of the day’s trash.
So that’s where we are today.
In a pile of steaming broccoli-garbage.
I’ll Keep That in Mind, Person With Zero Life Experience
Kid: “How old is your son?”
Me: “Huh? I don’t have a son.”
Kid: “Oh, then who is that kid on your phone’s lock screen?”
Me: “Ooooooh, that’s my nephew!”
Kid: “Oh. So you don’t have any kids?”
Me: “No.”
Kid: “But you just got married, right?”
Me: “Correct.”
Kid: “Then shouldn’t your lock screen be a picture of your husband?”
Me: “Is that a rule?”
Kid: “Well, I just think, like, it should be THE most important person to you. And that person should be your husband, if you don’t have kids. I’m just saying.”
Well aren’t we judgy at 9 years old.
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