everyday life and other joyful fiascos
By purchasing your book directly through me, you get a signed copy and some extra goodies to celebrate the book release.
Continue reading “Opossum Opposites: Fosters Empathy & Environmental Awareness”
I am learning so much right now.
Just so much.
It all started with the modest goal of writing a children’s book about opossums and then publishing and selling it. No big deal. Lots of people do that.
Not everyone goes the traditional publishing route — there are many reasons for that, but this post is not about that.
Not everyone produces a high quality, beautifully illustrated, educational book that can be enjoyed by parents and children, which they then manage to sell and maybe even have a tiny little bit of profit left over in the end.
That’s my goal.
Continue reading “I’m Publishing My First Children’s Book with Crowdfunding”
Welcome to the third installment of my journey to self-publishing my first children’s book, Opossum Opposites. I started this project a few months ago and I’ve learned so much already. But, as with many industries, the more I learn, the more I find out I need to learn.
On the menu today: illustrations!
Continue reading “Opossum Opposites Has an Illustrator!”
How long can I get away with calling it “baby weight” until it’s just weight? Not that I have to “get away” with anything. I don’t owe anyone but myself an explanations about anything pertaining to my body.
Continue reading “When “Baby Weight” Overstays Its Welcome: New Me vs. Old Me”My tender mother’s heart recently sustained a stinging injury. It was a minor pin prick of reality. But it hurt. I doubt if my son even registered what happened, but I did. Memories of the long, painful process of learning to fit my square peg self into the round hole world I grew up in came flooding back to me.
My kindergartener, “Sweetie Bird,” participated in his school’s annual fundraiser. For each goal level the school reached, they earned a reward. One day was no uniform day. Another day was crazy socks & hats day. I loaned Sweetie Bird a colorful striped hat of mine and some multicolored striped socks that he pulled up over his pants all the way up his thighs. At home, before he left for school, he was thrilled with his look. Those boney striped legs were killing me. I swoon hard over his whimsical tendencies.
Continue reading “Stay Weird, My Darling Child: How kids help us rediscover our strange & beautiful selves”I’m a 41-year-old white woman married to a 42-year-old white man. We have two children and we benefit from a lot of totally unearned privilege in this world thanks to the color of our skin and the size of our bank account. Our six-year-old son, “Sweetie Bird,” and our baby daughter are automatically set on a course to follow in our footsteps just for being born into our family. It’s our responsibility to make absolutely sure that they understand their privileges and that they share the world with others who have not been dealt such a lucky hand.
My son was an only child for five and a half years. They say that oldest children and only children listen to more adult conversation, so they learn adult vocabulary, too.
Just for fun, I picked a few recent gems that had me almost crying. Since my precocious little Sweetie Bird almost never stops talking, it’s a good thing he is funny AF. Otherwise, I’d need a lot more of daytime cocktails. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
Two weeks before the miscarriage, the doctor showed us the lovely beating heart of our week seven fetus. Then she turned to me and said, “Gina, I’m concerned.” She said a lot of things after that about the size of the yolk sac relative to the other measurements and what this almost inevitably meant for the baby.
Miscarriage. Soon. But not yet.
Don’t even call me a SAHM.
I am a SAHW.
Yeah, I’ve got kids. I guess you could say I’m a mom. No, I’m not getting paid for any of my labor right now, except in love. Yes, I do spend as much time as I can at my house, but only because I’m not really all that into people & places. Still, I am uneasy with the term stay-at-home mom.
Continue reading “Stay-at-Home Writer”My six-year-old son is, rightly, kind of disgruntled about the education he’s been getting around here – from me!
It all began innocently enough when we started watching RBG tonight during family dinner. It’s a school night though, so we’ll have to finish it tomorrow. It’s a special thing to watch TV during dinner, but a really special occasion to watch during dinner on a school night.
