It’s Not Over, Again.

But this time I mean it in a good way. Seriously. The election in the U.S. is not over. Biden (and Truth, Decency, Compassion, Science and Mamala) still have a chance. A good one. So hang on. Keep the faith. Breathe.

Yes, the fact that so many people in this country somehow still support the current President is total bullshit unfathomable, ridiculous, disheartening and angering beyond words.

BUT.

Be comforted a small bit by knowing that as the popular vote stands, — once again, just as in 2016 and 2000 — the majority of voters voted blue. It’s not enough, I know. But it means you are not alone. That all is not lost because the majority of the voters in this country did the right thing.

And mamas, especially expecting and brand new ones, please do yourselves a favor and look away from your screens. Turn off the TV, stick your phone in a drawer, and trust that Steve Kornacki’s forearms will continue their work without your constant vigilance. Gaze at your belly or your brand new babies’ toes/cheeks/chonky chubs or your second-graders’ crooked grin and remember that there is good hope in this world. You’re making it, you’re holding it, you’re raising it.

Sending you love, hope and bright blue solidarity.

It’s Not Over

Today I feel like having a big, fat cry. A full tilt, snuffling, ugly one.

Why? Because it’s been raining and fairly cold for the past several days in my little part of the world (the Midwestern U.S.) and so there’s been less of what has kept me sane during all of this pandemic business. Namely, going for walks and runs outside in the sun with my son. Today, I would love nothing more than to take him for a completely mundane stroll through the mall during which we buy only coffee and maybe a little trinket for him that he completely doesn’t need but smiles at.

But I’m not doing that.

Because it doesn’t feel responsible or safe or smart or necessary. And my little family has been as careful as possible about not doing things that don’t feel responsible or safe or smart or necessary since February. (We’ll keep it up for as long as it takes for a working vaccine to be readily available and for the numbers to go down.)

The weather and my mood will pass. I’ll be fine. I get that.

But it does remind me that I’m walking around with a low (sometimes not so low) level of emotions I’m mostly ignoring because I want to be positive and happy and grateful and focused on my son. And I am positive and happy and grateful and focused on my son. But I’m also really, really angry.

I am angry that this pandemic is happening at all, that there are people not taking it seriously and not being as careful as they can be (I will never understand this). I’m angry that our government has absolutely failed to do anything about it, yet apparently wants to say it’s over. Most of all, I’m mad as hell that it has gotten this bad in the first place because it. did. not. have. to. be. this. way.

I could go on and on about how masks are common sense and caring about other people should be common too, or about how a federal government that passes the buck to local, individualized governments — letting them all make their own rules in an enormous country with 48 contiguous states that have open borders for God’s sake — is a completely inept, idiotic and selfish government that even a second-grader could outwit. (No offense meant to second-graders who are delightful and lovely.)

But I’ll just stop here with the following: It’s not over, and it’s not going to be over any time soon. The effects will be felt by every single person and we will all pay for it in some way, even if we are fortunately not one of the 226,000+ Americans who have already paid with their lives.

I’m often reminded by others that my son is not going to remember that he didn’t get to stroll through the mall or play with a fellow group of babies or spend a few hours with his grandparents while his moms went on a date. And that’s true and great. But I will. I will remember.

When I let myself think about it, which I usually don’t, I become livid about the moments that have been stolen from my family this year. Especially the small ones. I feel the absence of each missed “Oh my gosh, he’s adorable! How old is he?” from strangers. And each “Look at this! Watch what he’s doing now!” with a face-to-face friend who, in normal times, would actually be in the room, waiting to wrap their arms around him as he toddles forward.

Being a new mother (or parent in general — here’s to you new papas and foster parents and guardians and aunties, etc.) — can be isolating and challenging enough any old time, but it’s even more so if you’re living in the Covid Upside Down. I try not to think about this or dwell on it or let it get me upside down. I try to count my blessings and be grateful and all that good stuff because I’m very, very blessed and all that even better stuff. But I’m still a person, and I’m still a new mom, and so sometimes I want to:

Ugly cry.

Run 10 miles. (Fine. Only two.)

Curse at MSNBC and anything orange.

Eat a pound of cheese dipped in a vat of sour cream and onion dip (Can’t do it, not because I’m breastfeeding and don’t want to eat garbage that I pass on to my kid, but because I went and decided to become vegan during this pandemic fucker.)

Hit things.

However, if I take a breath and move away from all of this inner rage for a moment, I do feel so very grateful for my family (best wife EVER), my health, and this time at home with my so-incredibly-awe-inspiring son.

I suppose the main thing I want to say to anyone reading this, who may be struggling like I am or in worse or different ways, is that the roller coaster you’re on is not your fault. The Upside Down is only known as the Upside Down because there is a Right Side Up. And we will get back to it. Maybe it will even be righter and more up than before (not that that would make it okay that this shit show is happening.) In the meantime, know that you can be both grateful and mad as hell and a devoted connoisseur of any cheese within a 30-mile radius.

One more thing. I see you. You are doing the very best you can. It is enough. Hang in there. And please vote.

4 a.m., A Poem

You are not five.

You are definitely not six.

The cat is like, “Bitch, please.”

Even the dog doesn’t like you.

But the baby is filled with immeasurable delight.

His raspberry sounds extra loud.

Yet somehow still funny.

(Because love.)

Four f*&^%$# A.M.?!?!?!?!?!

Every time you visit

(every. morning. for. three. weeks. straight.),

I think of my grandma,

who got up with you every damn day.

To serve other people coffee.

I pour myself a cup

and appreciate my life.

Sleepily.

Say What? (or Holy Shit.)

A small sampling of things I’ve heard myself say or think while being pregnant and since having a child that have then made me ask:

Who am I?

and

Whose life is this?

These are not my boobs.

I don’t want coffee, but I want to want coffee. And that makes me mad.

This is my third milkshake today. And so what?

Would you please hold my leg up over my head later? But, like, not in a sexual way.

Five a.m. is a pretty okay time to wake up, actually, ya know?

I had three continuous hours of sleep. I feel great!

What about his butt crack?

These are clearly someone else’s boobs.

You’re squishing his penis!

Was there poop?

I’m not going to do it; I’m just saying that in theory, I understand why people are tempted to leave their babies at fire stations or whatever.

I have not been peed on today.

You have to make sure his wing wang is pointing down.

What did the poop look like?

I’m crying because it just occurred to me that I’m going to die someday. Which is unacceptable because I want to be with him forever. I will make myself the first person to never die.

I’ve been peed on four times today and barfed on twice—before noon.

I really enjoy the gender role representation in Doc McStuffins.

Is the poop supposed to look like that?

Dipsy is kind of an a-hole Teletubby. I am here for it.

This quinoa looks exactly like baby poop…I’m still eating it.

So, we agree that Dr. Seuss was kind of bat shit, right?

But I don’t want him to grow up to become a serial killer. Or a republican.

Hey! My son can weave baskets if he wants to, damn it. Or join the ballet or what the hell ever, okay?

I got the blue one. And now I’m afraid I’m a sexist, gender-stereotyping asshole.

You know the “sex talk” is not really supposed to be about how to be good at sex, right?…Though, maybe it should be.

We were seriously selfish dickheads before having kids.

I am running while pushing another human that I made with my body. Why don’t you get out of my way?

Why Biden/Harris

Dear Son is a series of open letters to my baby boy. Letters I intend to give him someday when he’s a man. Or at least old enough to read. 🙂

Dear Son,

Recently, Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away at the age of 87. This is not so much a letter about her as it is written in her honor. Much has and will be written about Justice Ginsburg. Surely when you read this you’ll know who she was, but if not (I hate to even think of it), please pick up a book, watch a film or take a class about her. It will be worth it.

My one small thing in RBG’s honor is to write to you today to express why I’m voting the way I’m voting in the upcoming 2020 election. I am realizing now that I have never fully articulated my beliefs in any concrete way. I have always avoided any talk of “politics,” especially with family. I’ve always silently agreed to disagree. It’s possible I thought no one cared, that my beliefs didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things or even that I didn’t fully understand them myself and didn’t want to be caught sounding foolish. It is an absolute fact that I was avoiding confrontation and my own discomfort by keeping my mouth shut. It’s also true that, even as a gay woman, I have been privileged enough as a white, middle-class person, not to have felt the urgent need to articulate my beliefs or actively fight for them. In this way, I’ve been part of all of the problems. I’m writing to you today because I want you to know who I am in this moment in time and what I believe — and because I want to do my best to be part of the solutions from here forward.


On November 3, 2020, I am voting for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. It is the right — and the only — thing to do.

I’m sure you’ll learn sooner than I hope that few things in life are perfectly clear and unequivocally right or wrong, black or white, no matter what, but this is one of those times. The alternative is not even an option for reasons that are very well documented. I hope they will be even more so by the time you read this.

Let me pause here to be 100-percent honest and say that I voted for Elizabeth Warren in the primary (Harris was already out of the race). This country — and the world at large — is long overdue for a woman with a plan for everything to be its leader. I will make zero apologies for saying this and for wanting a woman to be president. You bet I do. There are many who are well-qualified and Elizabeth would have been fantastic.

Two things related to this, for the record:

  1. The accusatory sneer, “You just want a woman; You’ll vote for any woman,” is ignorant and sexist. It’s absolutely never leveled in the reverse. No one ever says with disdain, “Oh, you just want a man. You’ll vote for any man.” If that was a thing, the 2016 election would not have gone how it did, when many people proved they would indeed, literally, vote for any man over one of the most qualified women in history.
  2. I remain deeply disappointed that the country and the Democratic Party, still, in this moment in time, feel only another old, white man is the best answer. No, it is not because I have anything against Biden or hate old, white men. I don’t hate them. I’m exhausted by their failures at leadership. God-willing you’ll be an old, white man some day. When you are, aim to understand the limits of your own perspective. Aim to be honest with yourself about whether you know in your heart of hearts if another person in the room, woman or otherwise, would be better at leading a thing than you. If they would be, don’t just get out of their way, get behind them with the full might of your own talents. I wish that was what every single man in the Democratic Party had done this year.

All of that said, I’m still behind Biden now. He seems to be a decent, compassionate person with a moral center, who made an excellent pick for a VP. And again, it’s the right thing to do.

To be clear, I am not voting for Biden and Harris because they are perfect, and I agree with every single thing either of them has ever done or said or will ever do or say. I really want you to understand this: That’s not what voting is for.

Politicians are people, which means they are far from perfect, do not have perfect track records, and are allowed to have made mistakes — within reason.

Voting in a way, many years ago, on a specific issue that one would not vote now is acceptable. Because people are allowed, indeed encouraged, to learn and grow.

But pathologically lying about every. single. thing., including a global pandemic that has claimed the lives of 210,000 Americans and counting, denying and hiding facts, praising dictators and white supremacists, openly encouraging and inspiring hatred and prejudice, waging war on science and a free press, bullying, name-calling and narcissistically touting your own fake greatness every moment of the day (all while not paying anywhere close to your fair share of taxes for more than a decade, by the way) are not mistakes. They are blatant, intentional, despicable acts of deceit, arrogance and disregard for fellow human beings and their inherent worth. They have no place in a democracy. Or in a person with the most basic baseline of decency.

I am voting for Biden and Harris because voting is for weighing the whole picture as much as is humanly possible. It is for prioritizing not just your own rights, hopes and protections, but those of everyone around you and even people you’ve never met or lived next to. (If you’re ever not sure how to vote for the best interests of people beside yourself or for a candidate who doesn’t reflect back all of your own best interests, ask a woman, person of color or LGBTQ+ person.)

The point is that voting is done by and for the people, not just the individual self. Never forget that. Voting is not for just one issue, for winning, or for a fucking tax break (everybody everywhere would like to pay less taxes, for the record).

Voting is a conscious, informed act of hope and goodwill; a chance to participate in building a better future for yourself, your family and total strangers. A future that may not ever exist but should. Voting is for choosing a leader who, despite their imperfections, will have the most integrity, compassion, and strength of character — the one who will help THE MOST PEOPLE and DO THE MOST GOOD.

Here are just some of the many reasons I will vote for Biden and Harris (many of the same reasons I voted for Obama twice and Hillary in 2016). I write these in no particular order because they all matter urgently.

Climate change is a fact and a clear and present danger.

There is no debate to be had. Seriously. None. The entirety of the scientific community agrees that human action (and inaction) is the cause of climate change that will only get worse if left unchecked. Without a habitable planet, we have nothing, and we can solve no other problems.

Science is real (and has integrity).

Like a decent politician, it’s not that science never gets it wrong; it’s that science doesn’t stop. It keeps going until it gets it right, and it relies on many great minds to propel knowledge forward. It also eventually admits when it got it wrong before.

Religion has no place in public policy or the judiciary.

This is not an attack on religion or even an anti-religion stance. Not at all. The fact is, in a free, democratic society with separation of church and state, citizens — and politicians — are open to believe and practice any faith they choose or none at all. As they should be.

What they are not allowed to do is force their faith onto others, enshrine it into law, impede other’s rights, stack the courts a certain way because of it or cause others harm in the name of it.

(To be crystal clear here, I’m not saying people shouldn’t wish each other Merry Christmas or that I’ll be offended if someone kindly wishes me Shabbat Shalom, Ramadan Kareem or nothing at all. Or if they pray for me. I’m saying my neighbors should have no say what-so-ever about my body, my marriage or anything else based on their personal religious beliefs, and I should have no say on theirs based on mine. There is no “war on Christmas,” son, but there has long been a war on women’s bodies and many other oppressed people’s everything.)

Faith is and can be a wonderful thing. But believing you should be able to have any say in how other people live because of your own religious beliefs is not faith and it is certainly not democracy. It’s arrogance. There is not one right religion or one way to practice that religion. Not in America and not anywhere else.

Love is love is love is love.

And “gay marriage” is just marriage. Since you have two moms, I hope you’ll know this long before you read it here. All that matters is that two people who love each other treat each other with love and respect. It does not matter what sex or gender they are, what another person outside their relationship believes, or what any religion might be interpreted as saying about their relationship. Consenting adults have the right to do whatever they please, including marry, raise a family, and live a safe and healthy life full of good hope and free from fear, discrimination or judgement.

Remember this issue any time you’re asked to vote on something you know in your heart of hearts shouldn’t be up to you or voted on at all. Remember it, too, so you know that how you vote always has a direct impact on someone else’s life.

(A personal anecdote here: Your mom and I have friends and family members who voted for the current president and his on-record, anti-gay VP just days before attending our wedding in 2016. I have no doubt they love us and thought they were showing up in full support of us then. But the fact is, they made a choice, for whatever reason and whether they thought about it or not, that has directly lead to our rights being threatened. People can say they personally support or have no issue with LGBTQ+ people and others, but actions matter. Ask yourself, if you vote in a way that negates your support, are you really offering support at all? Because it has real consequences for people’s lives.)

Black Lives Matter.

Black Lives Matter.

Black Lives Matter.

This is not a controversial statement. At least it shouldn’t be. You’ll notice, I hope, that nowhere in the words “Black Lives Matter” will you find the word only. People who say “all lives matter” completely miss the point at best and are being supremely fragile and ignorantly racist at worst, whether they mean to be or not. Of course all lives should matter equally in the eyes of the law and everywhere else. But they clearly do not in a justice system that consistently and disproportionately kills and punishes black and brown people without consequence. That is the point. And that this happens is not an opinion; it is a documented fact. Bias is real. Prejudice is real. Racism is real. Period.

Don’t ever let anyone convince you that standing up for an oppressed people means you’re against everyone else or your country. Recognizing the ways in which your country needs to improve to live up to its democratic ideals and then working to make them so are among the most patriotic things anyone can ever do.

Also, don’t buy the flawed argument that the presence of good actors within a bad system (good police officers, for instance) means the system isn’t bad or doesn’t need an overhaul or that there aren’t bad actors, too. What it means is that there are always good people in the world, trying to do the right thing for the right reasons, even in the worst of circumstances. What it means is that there is always hope.

Seriously, racism is real and not “over.”

Just in case I didn’t make it clear enough above, I’ll say it again. And — this is very important — it doesn’t need to be intentional, ill-intended or even conscious to be racism (though it often is).

Of course, racism is entrenched in our society and systems. Less than 160 years ago, human beings owned other human beings in this country and used them to build literally everything that exists now. Less than one lifetime ago, white people dictated where black people could eat, drink, sit and exist. And even when these practices officially came to an end, new discriminatory ones took their place. (See gerrymandering, redlining, voter suppression, pay inequity, healthcare disparity and on and on.) Policy change is one thing, hearts and minds are another, and concrete societal, structural, systemic change is yet another.

The sometimes unfortunate truth is, once a thing happens, good or bad, it never completely goes away. (There are still Nazis in Germany. There is still a KKK and many other hate-mongering organizations in America and elsewhere. Hate is hate by whatever name it’s presently called.) The good news is, decent, moral people can and must (and always have) come together to consciously, diligently guard against these things growing.

Also, if you ever think something isn’t a problem, yet often hear other people saying it is, don’t be arrogant or obtuse. Ask yourself if you think the way you do because it isn’t a problem for you.

Immigrants are human beings. With as much right to be anywhere on this planet as anyone else.

This country and the larger world belongs to all of us and none of us. Being born in a certain place doesn’t make you any more or less human — or more or less great — than anyone else. Believing anything else is ridiculously hypocritical considering this country was founded by immigrants who stole it through violence and pestilence from the Native Americans.

Many people do and would immigrate perfectly legally, especially if the system were improved to be about people first. But also? If someone finds it necessary to risk their life crossing a desert, an ocean, or persevering through any other inconceivable journey in search of a better, safer life for their family, may they be welcomed with open arms and generous hearts.

Please don’t be a xenophobic asshole, son. No one from another place is stealing anything from you by seeking a better life for themselves or their family members. Surely, especially in the wealthiest country in the world, there is room enough for everyone.

Gun reform is mandatory and long overdue.

There have been more than two hundred mass shootings in America in the last decade alone. That’s just the last decade, and that’s just mass shootings, to say nothing of all other gun deaths. The U.S. gun homicide rate is 25 times higher than that of all other wealthy, developed countries, and still higher than many low-income countries. Literally no other comparable place on earth has the gun epidemic that we have. The fact that the NRA profits off of all of this fear and violence is an indisputable fact. And our government has done absolutely nothing to change this.

There is not a word for how completely, morally, despicable and disgusting this is. Mass shootings — in our schools, shopping malls, concert venues, churches, movie theaters — are not the price of freedom. A society with mass violence is not free at all.

Also, the saying that “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” is garbage. People with guns kill people — and more of them in less time. And no, we can’t prevent every crime no matter what, but that doesn’t mean we should do literally nothing. And no, it’s not entirely about mental illness, and no, we can’t read minds. What we can do is change access to and better regulate guns.

Also, no one’s Second Amendment right (which I believe they are misinterpreting anyway) is more important than a child’s right to grow up – and not have to learn by age five what an “active shooter” is.

Nothing and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

Healthcare should be a priority and an inherent human right, not a privilege.

Republicans have had a decade since the Affordable Care Act went into effect to come up with a way to improve it, and even longer to come up with a better idea all together. They’ve done absolutely nothing. (Seriously. Where is their plan? It. doesn’t. exist.)

A few other thoughts and facts on this:

It’s simply not true that other wealthy, advanced countries with socialized medicine provide worse care than we do in the United States.

Taxes are a fact of life, but needing to file bankruptcy after having cancer because of insurmountable medical bills — or not being able to seek care at all — doesn’t need to be.

Denying coverage because of so-called “pre-existing conditions” is a morally bankrupt, utterly repugnant practice that is entirely about money and nothing else. And Obamacare did away with it. Also, being alive is a “pre-existing condition” for God’s sake.

Having access to healthcare should have absolutely nothing to do with the completely false ideal that people should be able to “pull themselves up by their bootstraps,” just work harder, or any other such nonsense. We are all capable of entering into a state of disability in which we will be unable to provide for ourselves or our loved ones at any time and through no fault of our own. We will all need care at some point no matter how hard we work, how much money we make, how much exercise we get.

And finally, no matter how hard we work, how much money we make or how much exercise we get, we should all be able to walk into a doctor’s office or hospital and get care, because we are all human beings with inherent dignity and worth despite our finances and not because of them.

Public education should be a priority and an inherent human right, not a privilege.

Education is essential and the key to much, if not all, of the world’s problems. Be immediately suspect of anyone who ever tries to vilify public education or educated people. That’s the tool of oppressors and dictators, nothing more. (Same goes for vilifying a free press, by the way.)

Remember that getting an education doesn’t make you better than anyone else, it makes you the best version of yourself so that you can do the most good in your own life and provide the most help outside of yourself.

(And for fucks sake, if any “leader” in the future tries to appoint a Secretary of Education who has no actual experience in education, know immediately that that person is both ridiculous and dangerous.)

Pro-choice and Pro-abortion are not exactly the same thing.

No. They’re not. This is genuinely a very difficult issue to write and think about, especially as a new mother. And I understand why many people struggle with it. Here’s the thing:

I cannot, in all honesty, say that I personally support abortion in any and all circumstances, no matter what. What I do support in any and all circumstances no matter what is a woman’s right to make her own medical decisions — her own decisions of any kind — and to have complete and total autonomy over her own body.

I am literally pro women making their own choice about pregnancy and every other thing.

Anything less is not equality.

Decency, respect, compassion and kindness are essential to being a good person (and to continuing life on this planet).

A leader who flat out fails or doesn’t even try to speak with and – more importantly – act with even the most basic level of compassion and understanding for other human beings is no leader at all.

Pathologically lying, denying facts, praising dictators and white supremacists, openly encouraging and inspiring hatred and prejudice, waging war on science and a free press, bullying, name-calling and narcissistically touting your own fake greatness every moment of the day doesn’t make you refreshingly politically incorrect or a good business man or impressive in any way.

It just makes you an unbearable asshole.

Being too “soft” or too sensitive or too considerate or too kind or too thoughtful is not a thing.

Sometimes, son, you may feel like telling everyone to lighten up and take a joke. That you were just this or just that or you really didn’t mean this or that. But here’s the thing:

Too bad. Words and actions matter, so use them carefully. And never forget this:

Genuinely caring about other people’s feelings, lives and well-being doesn’t make you weak, annoying or a “snowflake.” It makes you a decent human being with a moral center. It makes you literally not a sociopath.

Also, a world full of trigger warnings is far better than a world full of pulled triggers.

Finally, son, yes, there’s a lot that’s wrong in the world, but there’s a lot that’s right, too. A lot that’s beautiful and magical and so full of hope that it will take your breath away. I know this every single time I look at you.

I love you. Thanks for making me your mother.

The Very First Post

My son was born in December 2019 in the middle of a snowstorm. The many hours leading up to his arrival were honestly mostly quiet and really beautiful.

Until I felt about 25 percent of one real labor pain. Then I was a big baby, he was perfect, and in such a long but short time all was well.

The storm kept extended family away for a full two days afterward. This both bothered and delighted me. I wanted to hold him up in front of people like Simba in The Lion King, but my wife and I wanted him all to ourselves, too. In reality, the first 48 hours were just the three of us and, as it turns out, this aspect of his birth was perhaps a bit of foreshadowing.

My son is now nearly 10 months old and the world is grappling with a pandemic. My country, the United States, is now the epicenter, by far outpacing every other country in terms of infections and deaths. The sheer rage this makes me feel — for many, many reasons — is immense. But one of the biggest reasons is that I do not want my son’s first year of life and a pandemic to have any relationship to each other. I don’t even like seeing the words together in the sentence I just typed.

And yet here we are.

I knew when I was pregnant that I wanted to write about my experience of motherhood. I also knew, once this pandemic became real in my part of the world, that I wanted to try to share something in the midst of the chaos. Something comforting, sometimes serious, sometimes entertaining, always hopeful. Just something that could help people in some small way. For months now I’ve been frozen between these two things, thinking they couldn’t go together. Or that I didn’t know how to put them together. Or perhaps most accurately, that I just refused to put them together.

But again, here we are.

One thing life is teaching me right now (not for the first time) is that there’s so very little we have control over in this world. And fighting against that is both fruitless and an excellent way to spin into exhaustion.

So. My son’s first year of life coincides with a pandemic. I’m going to write about it. And my experience of motherhood. And many, many other things about me being me and him being him. For starters —

Him: Hilarious, smart, curious, absurdly (unfairly-to-all-other-babies) adorable. Extremely interested in adventure, all manner of tags, single strands of human hair yanked fresh from the head, and danger. Lover of cats. Liker of dogs and their lolling tongues. Proud owner of a sometimes charming, sometimes alarming, flair for the dramatic.

Me: Brand new mama, hilarious (to myself), absurdly awkward in my own mind and occasionally in reality. Lover of all the wild things, wife of a wife, recovering people pleaser and conflict avoider. MF-in’ Biden/Harris voter. And proud owner of a sometimes charming, sometimes alarming, apparently genetic, flair for the dramatic.

Welcome!

This will not be perfect. It will undoubtedly be messy. And so what? Please join me if it’s helpful, fun, entertaining, comforting or makes you feel in any way like you are a little less alone in the world. That’s my hope for you and for myself.

Stay safe and well.

Mama 1