Hey! It’s a Blog (and Life) Update

November 10, 2020 / Chel Owens / 119 Comments

After crawling through pregnancy and limping through the newborn stage, I have emerged to be a whole, new Chelsea! This model is …a bit more overweight, a lot more tired, and barely has time to read and write.

She’s also taken up employment.

I work in a cafeteria. I applied for a cashier job and was hired at my son’s school. I don’t do much cashiering currently because every child gets free school lunch in America. The job has many perks: free food, free exercise, limited exposure to people, and unlimited latex-free work gloves.

I’ve taken the time I normally laid around the house; irresponsibly folding clothes, washing dishes, getting the baby out of the potted plants, finding shoes, reprimanding children, getting the baby out of the cleaning cupboard, picking up towels, washing pans, getting the baby off of the stairs, planning meals, balancing the budget, getting things out of the baby’s mouth, helping in the dice store, and cleaning cleaning cleaning- and put it to good use doing similar things in a more commercial environment that doesn’t have a baby crawling around.

After paying for day care, I bring home about $10 each day. I haven’t even learned what portion of that Uncle Sam will take; I don’t get my first paycheck till Thanksgiving. Maybe.

But, if you’re still reading, I doubt you clicked on this to learn about the intricacies of folding a towel after lunchlady work while using your foot to push the baby away from the stove dials as a timer goes off and dinner burns. The blog update part of this is that I need to cut back on posting. Frankly, I’ve gotten burned out by the dead-end that writing is for me anyway.

I’ve mentioned this before, I know. I need writing and I NEED this community. I also need sleep.

Here are the blog changes I will implement:

The weekly A Mused Poetry Contest will take place once a month.
I will occasionally answer prompts like Deb’s 42-word story, Girlieontheedge’s Six Sentence story, Carrot Ranch‘s 99-word flash, Colleen Chesebro‘s Tanka Tuesday, Esther Chilton‘s limericks, and maybe a Blog Battle or d’Verse.
I recommend you check them out and enter, too!
I’ll post COVID-19/Coronavirus updates if you’re interested. We’re now on a statewide mask mandate and all extracurricular school activities are cancelled for two weeks.
Most importantly, I will read my friends’ posts whenever I get a chance.
Even more most importantly, please know that I always mean the very best when I comment or write. I do not look to offend.
I support President Donald J. Trump as I have our other elected leaders, and I dislike people saying offensive things about him (or any other political figure). Be civil.

If you’re still around after those announcements, here’s some cake:

One of Those Boring Blog Update Things

September 1, 2020August 7, 2020 / Chel Owens / 55 Comments

Hey, everyone!

I’ve been having a great holiday, only worrying about considering the possibility of thinking I ought to plan on pondering the idea of envisioning a speculative schedule involving writing on the blog(s).

I promised this was a boring update, so here are the specifics:

WordPress’ editor still sucks.
I sold my arm and part of a leg for a new cell phone and can therefore read (and comment on!) people’s posts again. The new phone ought to streamline that process going forward, instead of gunking it up to a hopeless quagmire like it did in the past.
I’m changing the Weekly Hilarity Contest to poetry again, but intend to definitely bend toward humor and not to the sarcasm and ridicule of terrible poeming.
My #1 priority will be me and my family. Number two will, invariably, be dishes and laundry -okay, really, ’twill be catching blog posts written by my favorite people (you!). After those, I will post some of my own works (see #5, just below).
My blogging schedule will be liposuctioned to something manageable and …less personal. Maybe.
I will write and publish a book. I will write under a modified name, since I’ve never liked my obviously-born-in-a-certain-decade-or-near-there identifier.
If there is any time left after that, I’ll sleep well, eat right, and exercise. I will also cure pandemics.

woman wearing blue shawl lapel suit jacket

I will totally look like this person, all year. (Photo by Moose Photos on Pexels.com)

Answering The Real Neat Blog Award

May 29, 2020May 29, 2020 / Chel Owens / 19 Comments

My good friend, Peregrine Arc, listed the best questions to answer as part of the online chain mail that is a blogging award. How can I resist?

What’s something you’ve been doing to take care of yourself during the pandemic?
Hmmmm… Take care of myself… I knew there was something I forgot! -Ooh! I bought toilet paper.
What’s one song, when it comes on the radio, you just have to sing along with?
I seem drawn to those impossible sorts, like “Titanium” and “Dream On.” I try to remember not to do so when my children’s friends are also in the car.
A formal dinner has been held in your honor. Who’s the master of ceremonies?
M.C. Escher’s in my house! …or, down that staircase. …or, down that one…

Wikipedia, Fair use
A fish comes out of the water next to your boat and starts talking to you. What message is the fish telling you?
“Did you know that the pH of most natural lake waters ranges from 6-9 and that figure varies based on the presence of carbonates and bicarbonates?”
You’re playing real life Wizard’s Chess. What’re your odds of surviving?
Haha! None. That Sorceror’s Stone is gone!

Photo by Syed Hasan Mehdi on Pexels.com
If your life was a play, what would be the major dramatic arc?
Erm. Hm. I’d have to say the part when the chocolate lands on the floor.
If you could have one chore be automatically done for you for forever, what would it be and why?
Omigosh; dishes. If you don’t know why, come fulfill my magic wish.

Thanks for the fun, as always, Madame Arc. Stay cool, and keep your chocolate away from the cruel clutch of gravity!

Dammit, WordPress!!

March 4, 2020March 5, 2020 / Chel Owens / 67 Comments

Look, I get it. I’m so busy I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, or even if I had breakfast. I don’t have time to fold my shirts, bring the toy room up to OSHA standards, or sit around wondering if I consumed food that morning.

I certainly do not have time for reading blogs -Wait! Yes, I do! Every 2-3 hours, I am stuck on a couch while a small human sucks milk from my body. Why can’t I catch up on my friends’ stories then?

I’ll tell you: because of WordPress!

Back when I started blogging, I could read and comment on a story or a poem or a picture right from my phone. WordPress kept me logged in, so I whizzed around the sites I followed like a person who reads blogs quickly.

Then, the trouble started.

I surfaced from a pregnancy haze and noticed I wasn’t getting e-mails from LA‘s site anymore. Confused, I discovered she wasn’t listed as one that I followed. I remedied that, only to notice the same thing happen again a few months later. When I messaged her to ask if she’d dropped me, she promised she had not.

After that, I was unable to leave comments on Lisa‘s blog, Stephen‘s blog, or P’Arc‘s blog. I have to click a login button just to respond to terrible poetry entrants.

Recently, I remembered that Matt mentioned me in an award. I went to find that post. Surprise! I was no longer following him. After rectifying that, he commented on my post: hum…i am not unfollowing you but everytime it seems i check your blog i have rehit the follow button…what the hell WordPress ??

What the hell WordPress, indeed.

Like I said, I’m a busy gal. I don’t have time. I do have friends. I want to be able to read what those friends write and to be able to comment. And yet; un-follows, inability to login, and dropped sites are cramping my style.

What can I do? I don’t know. The only way I’m able to comment is by using an actual computer. Even then, I get screens that do not load and logins that never go through.

Have you experienced issues with WordPress? Are you able to comment on the sites you wish to? Do you know the customer service number I can use to send them a flaming bag of poo?

UPDATE: I submitted an issue to the forum. We’ll see if anything happens.

—–

If you’re able to, read over my posts from this past week:
Wednesday, February 26: I announced our first Kickstarter in “Kickstarters and Chainmail Bikini.”

Thursday, February 27: Throwback: “Zombie Lunchlady.”

Friday, February 28: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Bruce Goodman!

Saturday, February 29: Leap Day!! Announced the 61st Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is to write a poem like Ern Malley. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, March 1: Continued Joanne’s story, “The Terror in the Suburbs.”

Monday, March 2: An inspirational quote by Abraham Lincoln, but really Reverend William H. J. Boetcker.

Tuesday, March 3: Got around to answering Matt Snyder’s questions from his Sunshine Blogger Award nomination.

Wednesday, March 4: Today.

I also posted on my motherhood site. I wrote “How to Raise the Best, Most Emotionally Well-Adjusted Kids in Today’s Society” and “Mother of One” (a limerick).

Photo Credit: JESHOOTS.COM

1,000 Posts

February 23, 2020February 23, 2020 / Chel Owens / 56 Comments

Technically, this announcement is #1,001, but… I MADE IT TO 1,000 posts! Yay! Happy 1,000th Post Day, Blog!

1000 Posts

First Post: “The Post You May Never Read,” on June 25, 2017.

Most Commented-On Post: “Really Big News of a Non-Writing Kind” -not surprising as it was my pregnancy announcement!

Post With the Most Views: My About Me page, which proves you’re all a bunch of stalkers.

Day With the Most Site Hits: December 20, 2018, when many fine writers contributed parodies of favorite Christmas songs for our fifth Terrible Poetry Contest, then I apologized for announcing winners early.

Followers: 936 (Wouldn’t that have been cool to also be at 1,000?)

Blogs I Follow: 290

~~~~~

Thanks, everyone, for the support! Here’s to 1,000 more!

Oh, No: It’s That Irritating Need to Please Everyone Again

February 5, 2020February 6, 2020 / Chel Owens / 65 Comments

I suffer from Approval Addiction.

In every exchange, I try to be what pleases the other person. With my children, I am an experienced adult who unconditionally loves them. With my neighbors, I aim to be the easy-going one who’s willing to provide a cup of flour or plate of cookies. With my friends, I lend a listening ear and supportive hand. With my blog, I’m the writer-of-all-trades in order to please the greatest number of followers.

I wear many, many masks. I feel I even wear masks within masks.

Unfortunately, I fail. With my children, I become the resentful, repressed, and stressed adult who makes them think they must earn my affection. With my neighbors, I bother, offend, and fail to keep up. With my friends, I …don’t really have any. With my blog, I back-post midnight thoughts and give up (yet again) on reading what others wrote.

I feel dizzy with the ride of expectations vs. reality. I start employing my old numbing tactics: little sleep, lots of junk food, and mindless apps to distract.

Round

and round

and round again.

Sometime near 2 or 3 a.m., I lift my tear-streaked face from the closet floor. “I can’t keep doing this,” I say, with a smidgen of resolve. “Something’s gotta give.” I consider what I can get rid of:

Kids? Probably can’t give any back now.
Dishes? I wishes.
Laundry? Housework? Bill-paying? Errand-running? Etc? No, no, no, no, and no.
Staring at my shoe rack from my position on the floor whilst eating chocolate? Maybe.
Writing?

Ah, the writing. Some part of ‘the writing’ needs to give. I started blogging because I was going to succeed at something. Maybe I’d publish a book. Perhaps I’d attract tens of thousands of people to my site. Surely, I would change the world.

Whatever happened, my quick quips and cute phrases would most definitely be circulated around Facebook instead of the banal ones I saw daily.

Yet, here I sit, the same as when I started. I have nothing to show for all the time investment into ‘the writing.’

*sigh*

Well, I don’t literally have nothing to show for it. I have all of you.

I love my blogging friends, even those who don’t come around anymore. You’ve read, complimented, lifted, encouraged, responded, sympathized, reached out, poemed, and loved me. In a world where I rarely converse with like-minded people, I need this. I don’t expect everyone to read everything I write; you all feel the same, right?

So… I wonder how you all deal with ‘the writing.’ Have you a schedule? Do you write ahead? If you write and read less frequently, how do you still have followers?

Most importantly, do you write blog posts in the closet?

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—————-

Here’s the breakdown for the week:

Wednesday, January 29: Talked about DIETING in, “The Diet: It Sucks But It Works.”

Thursday, January 30: Throwback to my Reddit story: “Customer Service.”

Friday, January 31: Posted the winner of this week’s “Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.” Congratulations to Matt Snyder.

Saturday, February 1: Announced the 57th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is LOVE. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, February 2: Shared Jules’ page of the poem we commented to create.

Monday, February 3: An inspirational quote from Nitin.

Tuesday, February 4: Poemed “An Overworked Poem About the Post,” in response to Carrot Ranch‘s prompt.

Wednesday, February 5: Today

Photo Credit: Jamesthethomas5

The Diet: It Sucks But It Works

January 29, 2020January 30, 2020 / Chel Owens / 60 Comments

I love food.

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I mean, I love food.

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I mean, I really, really love food.

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Like most humans, I love the wrong kinds of food. What can I say? The ‘bad’ sorts just taste better. Eating lots of the ‘bad’ sorts also tastes better, particularly as a coping mechanism for depression.

However, that is known is gluttony, and is my favorite sin.

As such, baby-making and age eventually caught up to my habit. I found myself considering something I’d never had to before: a diet.

Before Child #4 and my thirties, I’d been blissfully ignorant of the difficulties of weight loss. I walked a lot. I was actively breaking up fighting children. I worked around the house and in the yard. I cooked our meals; sometimes, from our garden. I’ve never consumed alcohol or coffee and do not drink soda pop often.

About who-knows-how-many years ago, I had to do more. Baby #4 could walk and talk …and go into preschool, so I couldn’t use his birth as an excuse for the 30 extra pounds anymore. So, I started my own variation of the no-carb diet.

Diet #1

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I cut out sugar, white flour, white rice, and white rap (we all know Mom’s spaghetti is loaded with carbs). Instead of going completely lettuce-wrapped, I replaced my grains with whole wheat and brown rice.

I lost about 10 lbs; then, reasonably, gave up.

This may have also coincided with school letting out for the summer.

Diet #2

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About a year after Diet #1 and Christmas, I implemented another diet. I focused more on not eating after a certain time (9 p.m.), drinking more water, and not eating any sweets or desserts.

Again, this lasted about a month.

Diet #3

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Cue yet another year and I told myself this was it. I told myself I would drop that final 10 lbs, whether or not it was Girl Scout Cookie Time.

For some reason, I had also been exercising daily since November. For some other reason, we planned our first-ever out-of-country and longer-than-two-nights trip. The husband wanted me to get a bikini. He assumed I would be seen in public wearing one.

This final time was more difficult than the others; due to its being the last few pounds, due to my exercising, and due to my wavering conviction after a few weeks. I did smaller portion sizes. I tried to avoid refined sugar. I chewed gum, wore my retainer, and shamed myself away from late-night snacks.

But, did it I did. Lost the weight I did.

Aaaand, now I’m back to where I started. Actually, I’m back to where I started, plus a little extra in case we run out of snacks on the flight to where I started. I’ve been trying to diet again, impatiently so.

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I always forget how difficult The Diet is. Day One is the hardest. Actually; like they say in Holes, “the first hole’s the hardest;” then, “the second hole’s the hardest….” If I survive the first week without killing everyone in a hangry rage, my stomach shrinks and I make it a while longer. I’m hoping to stick with it till all the extra baby weight is gone.

I write this post to explain why I’m a little testy; why I’m somewhat unfocused. I also write it to encourage anyone working on dieting or other self-improvement. Self-improvement is difficult, but you can do it. I can do it.

We can do it, one hole at a time -er, maybe one salad at a time.

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What have been your experiences with dieting? What worked? Whom did you murder during the first week?

—————-

I wrote some stuff, too:

Wednesday, January 22: Wondered at the anti-social social world in “Real Life vs. The Blogosphere.”

Thursday, January 23: Throwback: “Herculesa.”

Friday, January 24: Posted the winner of this week’s “Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.” Congratulations to Doug.

Saturday, January 25: Announced the 56th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is an epic poem of adventure. PLEASE ENTER!

Also, “Quick Game: Edit That Book Title,” for fun.

Sunday, January 26: “The Hereafter, Aloft,” in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt.

Monday, January 27: An inspirational quote from Charli Mills.

Tuesday, January 28ish: Poemed “Wanton Winter.”

Wednesday, January 29: Today

I also published a bit on my motherhood site. I wrote “You Might Have a New Baby If…” and “Time for Baby.”

Photo Credit:
Jonathan Borba
Kavita Joshi Rai
Laura Gomez
petra cigale
Ocean Ng
STIL
Pexels
Anna Pelzer

Real Life vs. The Blogosphere

January 22, 2020January 23, 2020 / Chel Owens / 85 Comments

The world’s a strange place. Connected beyond imagination, our real lives involve separation and loneliness.

When I was a child, I’d visit my neighbors. The old woman around the corner was a round, loud person with a slight, soft-spoken husband. He puttered around their yard and house, repairing and fixing and amusing himself. She’d invite me in to their homespun, soft-furnitured living room and insist I eat the cookies she’d just made.

They kept a dog or two. Whenever we played outside in our backyard, the dogs would bark. Sure enough, after a few rounds of yip-yip-yip, we’d hear her screech, “Skipper! Quiet!” I could imitate her tone and inflection; still can.

Nowadays, my neighbors are more reclusive. I still try to visit them. I plan a block party each summer. But, it’s different. It’s isolated. It’s even a bit cold.

One time, bearing the Christmas cookie plate I make and gift every year, I rang my neighbors who never come out and socialize. They’d just installed a door camera, I noted. I could hear it whirring as the focus changed, probably recording me. Their teenage daughters’ cars were out front. Their interior lights were on. I could hear their talking before I rang. Yet, no one answered.

Resisting my inner child’s urge to do something less kind, I left the plate on their porch and went back home.

It’s different. It’s rude.

I feel a similar confusion and slight affront where my writing’s concerned. Here, on my blog, I post every day. I write about my thoughts and feelings, my ideas, my odd story plots, my poetry, and -most vulnerably- my depression.

Occasionally, I share what I write to my Facebook page. Like, my personal one that everyone who is my ‘friend’ can read. All of my neighbors are ‘friends,’ although I happen to know they don’t read what I write. Only when I announce I’m having a baby do about a fourth of my ‘friends’ (130ish) click that little Like.

The rest of the time, about 30 people respond.

If I write something depressive, about 8.

In real life, sometimes 1 or 2 come up and say something.

I wonder what things would have been like if I’d become an adult fifty years ago, or even twenty. My mom would tell me that her mom’s neighbors met every morning for coffee. My grandmother said she and the kids of her childhood played jacks together. My husband’s grandmother sat outside with the other mothers in their complex at college, while their children all played in the central courtyard.

Different times. Warmer times.

This age allows me an outlet I wouldn’t have had fifty years ago, or even twenty. Instead of living in the isolation of my two-story house with only the dishes and laundry for company, I have you all.

But, I often wonder, why don’t I have those who are closer? Why don’t they notice? Why don’t they care?

Maybe it’s the cookies.

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—————-

Here’s what I wrote this week:

Wednesday, January 15: Examined the differences between the sexes in “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus (and I’m Adrift in Space).”

Thursday, January 16: Throwback to how to write poetry with “A Muse, The Blues, Some Clues -AKA How to Write Poetry.”

Friday, January 17: Posted the winners of this week’s “Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.” Congratulations to Anne, Michael, and Rob.

Saturday, January 18: Announced the 55th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is what paradise looks like to you. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, January 19: “A Small Protest,” in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt.

Also, “How Much is That Poem in the Window?,” in response to Crispina Kemp’s prompt photo.

Monday, January 20: An inspirational quote from Almost Iowa.

Tuesday, January 21: Poemed “As I Lay, Here.”

Wednesday, January 22: This post, plus “The Island Getaway, a Continued Story (My Part).”

I also published a bit on my motherhood site. I wrote “Did You Go Swimming Today? and Other Post-Delivery Fallacies” and “Short, Sweet, Sleep.”

Photo Credit: BBH Singapore

I’m Having a Baby (I Think)

November 13, 2019 / Chel Owens / 84 Comments

This last year has been the longest decade of my life. From injury to surgery to SURPRISE pregnancy to associated complications, I’ve wrestled with keeping some part of me afloat. The problem is, that part has not always been a useful one -like my face.

Yet as I draw ever nearer my scheduled surgery date, I must finally face the facts: I’m probably having a baby.

I know, I know; that sounds funny. Of course I’m having a baby. I’ve had appointments. I’m eating peppermint ice cream. There’s something moving down there that had better not be the oft-parodied Alien‘s clip. Professional people with professional equipment have seen a humanoid in my uterus.

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And, though you’ll NEVER see a picture of this, I’m about the size and weight of a hippopotamus. Still, I’ve been in a bit of denial. I’ve been ignoring the elephant in the womb in an effort to not accept the inevitable. But, facts are facts and this alien’s gonna be coming on December 2nd at 5:00 p.m.

Which leads to some other things I need to announce about life, the blog-o-verse, and my writing:

Time
Frankly, I won’t have any.
Time
Because of this, the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest will be on hold for the entire month of December. The last one of the year will run from November 16-22, 2019. The next will resume on January 4, 2020.
Time
I will not be writing on the blog, beginning on December 2nd. Oh -maybe I’ll drop a Wednesday Gripe or a Sunday Prompt, but I think taking a sabbatical would be healthiest for me and my spawn.
Time
I will also not be consistent in reading people’s blogs, though that’s been the case since about May. I love you all and will do my best.

My hope is you’ll stick around and deal with the adorable baby picture or two I’m liable to post. Thank you for your friendship, patience, and support.

—————-

And, here’s what I wrote this week:
Wednesday, November 6: Addressed my unhealthy lack of anticipation in “What do you hope for?”

Thursday, November 7: Shared Heather Dawn‘s post, “I Met Depression… and I Won.”

Friday, November 8: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to The Abject Muse!

Saturday, November 9: Announced the 51st Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is Christmas commercialism. PLEASE ENTER!

And, encouraged everyone to go vote for a finalist in Susanna Leonard Hill’s Halloweensie Contest.

Sunday, November 10: “Capture a Critter #1: Monkey Buffet Festival,” in response to Deb Whittam‘s prompt.

Monday, November 11: An ‘inspirational’ quote by Steve Martin.

Tuesday, November 12: “Since the Bombs Fell: Four,” the fourth in a series I intend to end at #6.

Wednesday, November 13: Today.

I also posted a poem at my motherhood site: “Towels, a poem.”

Where, Oh Where Should My Blogging Go?

October 16, 2019October 17, 2019 / Chel Owens / 99 Comments

I feel lost.

Where once I had goals, dreams, aspirations, directions, and a body weight I could control; I now have exhaustion and confusion. The problem is with writing, with blogging.

Why did you start a blog? I began mine because a very good (talented, beautiful, intelligent) friend recommended I start one. I’d been trying to make TwofaceBook into a salon of sorts. I failed. People on social media want it to be a trash heap -but I digress.

I started writing a blog because I wanted to share my writing with others. I also wanted to complete a book, become world famous, and retire from housework forever.

After 2.5 years and little progress in the book-writing direction, I wonder if my followers have lost interest. I know I have. I imagine everyone’s thoughts:

What is she doing with this blog, anyway?

Why does she keep posting terrible poetry?

Is this a short story or a -oh. It’s yet another piece of that serial story thing. Just END it already!

Since no one’s been blunt enough to tell me these things, I’m taking the liberty of assuming their reactions.

In all seriousness, though, what should I do? I’ve finally finished Wilhelmina Winters. I prematurely ended the life of one my favorite serials because it was going the same, lengthy direction. I’m not certain anyone ever reads my mom blog. I think the bad poetry is hilarious.

I need a re-vamp, or I’m bound to drop the thing entirely. We’re talking a new writing schedule and different posts than what I’ve been doing.

If you have a minute, could you leave a comment about what you actually enjoy reading or would like me to write? I’m open to suggestions.

Thank you.

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—————-

Here’s a brief run-down of what I wrote:
Wednesday, October 9: Asked about faves in “What’s Your Favorite Holiday? Why?”

Thursday, October 10: Whipped up a (highly condensed) version of Stephen’s writing in “A Tribute to Stephen Black of Fractured Faith Blog.”

Friday, October 11: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Peregrine Arc!

Saturday, October 12: Announced the 47th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is to parody a nursery rhyme. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, October 13: Shared Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Contest, Susanna Leonard Hill’s Children’s Halloweensie Story Contest, and Aurora Jean Alexander’s Halloween Poetry Contest.

Monday, October 14: An inspirational quote by Someone who may have been Winston Churchill.

Tuesday, October 15: “Wilhelmina Winters, Number One Hundred Eight.” The End!!!

Wednesday, October 16: Today.

I also posted a little bit at my motherhood site. I wrote “The Merits of Yelling in the House,” “Top Ten Things to Never Tell a Pregnant Woman,” and “A Parents’ Bedtime Poem.”

Photo Credit: Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay