Tag Archives: Sissy

Stuff I Know

The Mister and I have this crazy idea that the goal of rearing children is to create productive adult citizens who help make the world a better place. As people send their kids off to college for the first time … Continue reading

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Dimmer. Dimmer Still.

After commenting on Dan’s post at No Facilities today, he reminded me I’ve mentioned the battle of the lights over here at my house. I’ve alluded to it, but never written about it. About his wife, Dan wrote, “Turning a light on … Continue reading

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One-Liner Wednesday — On Raising Honest Children

When asked why she poked her brother in the eye, Sissy said, “Because I wanted to.” One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

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We Are Not a Morning People

Part One Not unusually, The Mister gets up at 5, grooms, makes his travel coffee, picks up his lunch, dials our bedroom dimmer light to one, kisses me, and leaves. I sleep lightly and dream heavily. I wake up in strange … Continue reading

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As If Time Is Made of Stories

According to the stats on my last post, people don’t like it when I blog about Bubba. Heh, he probably doesn’t like it when I blog about him either. I have a lot of happiness to share today, including that … Continue reading

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All Vacation-y and Stuff

I realize I was vague in my post about conflict and how The Mister and his ex deal with it, but I promise you, the conflict had nothing to do directly with either of them, and no I won’t share details, … Continue reading

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SoCS — Rings

When it came time to get married, I didn’t wanna wear a ring. Like, I know it’s a thing people do, but I’ve never been a fan of rings. I’m not really a jewelry person. I’d met some people who … Continue reading

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They’re YOUR Parents!

I’ve been close with my in-laws since I was 13. I’ve called them Mom and Dad since maybe 14 or 15. They’re those kinds of people. Many people think of them as second parents or at the least, as people you … Continue reading

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You’re Safe with a Man in the House

Like a lot of kids, if I woke up scared, I’d head to my parents’ bedroom. Like a lot of parents, they grew annoyed, and began to forbid it. I have memories of them carefully lifting their feet over me, … Continue reading

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P is for Preposterous

When I was carrying Sassy, Sissy was in the first grade. Sissy came home from school and told me she knew how that baby got in there and how disgusting she thought it was. She said a boy at school told … Continue reading

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