Mother Of The Year…In Columbia


As my children clamber into the car after school…

Xavier: “Mother, we need to talk.”

Me: “Um, okay?”

Xavier: “Remember how every time grandpa brings powdered doughnuts over, you tell me I have a ‘Tony Montana moustache’, and I thought that just meant a big moustache?”

Me: (giggling) “Okay, yeah?”

Xavier: “Today, my teacher was eating a powdered doughnut…”

Me: “Ohhhhh, nooooo.”

Xavier: “Exactly.”


Pride, You Made Me Proud.


A warning, if you came here for my usual nonsense, this isn’t the post for you, but please click here for a post about fucked up children’s literature, or this one about how I am incapable of returning gifts.


Three of my friends (also teachers), and I are sponsors in a community organization which supports LGBTQ youth and allies.  Due to the tireless work of one of my fellow sponsors, we were lucky enough to take our kids to march, this weekend, in the Phoenix Pride Parade.

After several hours of staging, just as we were about to launch down the parade route, one of our girls turned to me, shoulders down, eyes huge, and said, “Ms. M, I’m scared,” and my heart stopped for a second.  I knew why she was scared.  She was scared because this meant thousands of people looking at her…because she was standing in front of them, declaring her true self at the ripe old age of fifteen…and because she knew, somewhere, we’d likely meet opposition that she wouldn’t know how to handle.  I squeezed her shoulder and told her that it was going to be fun, and prayed like hell that I was right.

What happened, was that for the next thirty minutes, our kids met nothing but cheers, high-fives, and applause from thousands of strangers, who took a little time out of their Sunday to sit on a curb in downtown Phoenix, and send them the biggest overwhelming cloud of love and acceptance imaginable.  A cloud which wrapped around all of them, stronger than any armor man has ever wrought.  Long before our mile was up, our girl, once so scared, had her shoulders thrown back and her head held high, and she was the definition of Pride.  My heart…it was, and still is, so terribly full.


And, yes, at the end of the route, there were protesters holding terrible signs and screaming hateful things. Wisely, the organizers placed the huge speaker system right next to them to drown them out with Lady Gaga, but by then, our kids were impervious, and the demonstration warranted nothing more than the roll of their keen adolescent eyes, and for that I am grateful.

Love will always be so much more powerful than hate, and self-acceptance is greater than fear.  You did me proud today, Phoenix…thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Wait For It…Wait For It…


(Looking at a stuffed animal her brother won in a contest.)

Caolinn: “Xavier, you said it was 11-inches tall.  This is like 7 inches at the MOST.”

Me: “Yes, Caol, it’s time you learned that men frequently lie about size.”

Caolinn: *blank confused look*

(ten minutes later…)

Caolinn: “MOTHER!!!  You are AWFUL!!!”

New Plug-In Scent…Vanilla And Crotch-Sweat


For those of you who are new, I teach teenagers who have emotional and behavioral disorders.  For the record, I’d like to meet a teenager who DOESN’T have an emotional or behavioral disorder, and frankly, I think my kids are WAY more awesome than most kids.

D’Avonte: “It smells like ass in here.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that.  You want to sit closer to the Plug-In?”

D’Avonte: “That doesn’t work, because then I just smell pine trees and ass.”

Me: *shrugs*

D’Avonte: “Can’t we open a window?”

Me: “The windows don’t open.”

D’Avonte: (pauses) “Is it because we’re…you know…crazy?”

Me: “What?”

D’Avonte: “You know, they’re afraid we’ll jump out the windows and kill ourselves.”

Me: “Honey…”

D’Avonte: “Yeah.”

Me: “We’re on the first floor.”

Damn You, Netflix…You’re Making Me Creepy


(Yet another text conversation gone wrong.)

Ryan: There’s nothing like the smell of spring practice.  The dead grass…the ridiculous parental expectations.

Me: Has any one talked, yet, about the time they “went to state”?

Ryan: Fortunately, those parents are all at Pop Warner.  There actually aren’t that many parents here.  It’s quiet.  Too quiet…

Me: Ruh Roh.  That’s how it always is right before someone trips over what they think is a helmet, and it turns out to be a severed human head.

Ryan: Megan…

Me: Yes…

Ryan: Stop binge watching Bones.  Immediately.

Summer’s Eve WISHES They Had My Vinegar Collection


Caolinn: (looking in the fridge) “Okay, why do we have five different kinds of mustard?  No house needs five different kinds of mustard.”

Me: (blank stare)

Caolinn: “What?”

Me: “I don’t know how it happened without me knowing about it, but you were clearly somehow adopted.”

Caolinn: “I can only dream.”