Five things that make me happy:
- The smell of cinnamon as I shake out some baking soda to wash my hair (I store it in an old cinnamon bottle).
- Having friends I can call after having a Bad Parenting Moment who really get it, and return me nothing but love.
- The way The Man steps up after I have a Bad Parenting Moment and diffuses the situation and showers me with love, rather than shaming me, and tells me to go get whatever I want from the Chinese take out place.
- Learning to play Ode to Joy on my just-unearthed classical guitar, including the tricky bit in the middle.
- The Boychick. The Boychick. The Boychick.
Two links you should read:
- Bachelorettes, bathing suites, etc. at Shapely Prose “I still get alternately angry and weepy when I think about how much I used to hold myself back, how much I chose to miss out on, because I was so worried that people would think I was too fat/ugly/dull/irritating/etc. — mostly fat and ugly — to deserve to take part in whatever fun activity was on the table.”
- Sometimes Disability Is a Shared Identity at Womanist Musings “This year he stopped believing in Santa. … Unbeknownst to me, he had written Santa a letter asking that I be cured of my diseases. He … was certain that he had found a way to make everything better for me. We spent much of Christmas morning crying as I had to tell him that I was indeed still sick.”
One swinging child:
