High School Heartache
Hellooooo? *taps imaginary mic* Is this thing on? It's me, Rita, the person who used to inhabit this blog daily, sometimes twice a day actually but then I was like people are going to get soooo tired of me talking. And now look. Here I am, popping in literal years after my last post. What the what, y'all.
Anyway. I'm not here as often any more -- total understatement, I realize -- because I'm not allowed to write about my kids much any more. They're older now, and their automatic disclaimer whenever they do anything I laugh at is "don't put this on the Internet, Mom." And I'm like ... but my blog.
This blog, and the community of people I never expected to follow it, was built on candid stories about my kids pooping in things that weren't meant to be pooped in and, of course, the special rules for boy-moms. But this was when the kids were little and couldn't read, let alone object. Now they're actual people with actual Internet access (…
Anyway. I'm not here as often any more -- total understatement, I realize -- because I'm not allowed to write about my kids much any more. They're older now, and their automatic disclaimer whenever they do anything I laugh at is "don't put this on the Internet, Mom." And I'm like ... but my blog.
This blog, and the community of people I never expected to follow it, was built on candid stories about my kids pooping in things that weren't meant to be pooped in and, of course, the special rules for boy-moms. But this was when the kids were little and couldn't read, let alone object. Now they're actual people with actual Internet access (…
