My parents’ kitchen is seeing its final days of organization because no one knows exactly where everything goes — things are slowly being put back in places where they “fit.”
I decided to spend the night there, without any of my stuff, and realized I won’t have any “girl’s” toiletries to borrow pretty soon.
I hate seeing old people. I hate happy old people because they’re alive, and I hate grumpy old people because they should be grateful they got to be old.
I am so sick of crying.
I was under the impression that I was doing well until Newt double dipped his spoon in the peanut butter and I had to go upstairs so I wouldn’t yell at anyone.
The best part of the last 13 days has been the 3 hours I spent at the dentist today.
I watched my kids read goodbye, love letters to their Nan tonight, and, frankly, that’s just wrong.
I wonder if the noise my stomach is making means I have cancer. Or if the spot on Elfie’s lip is cancer. Or if the sore on Uno’s belly is cancer.
I wish I were in Hawaii.
Tammy Soong is a writer, wife, and mom from Reno, Nevada. She takes an absurd amount of pain medication, but not enough to have actually named her children "Newt" and "Elfie." She spends most days stressing out over clutter, writing stuff for this place, and working on podcasts with her gal pals, the Blogging Betties.