His phone started to ring just as he was shutting his front door. It was Aurora.
“Hey!” Christopher answered the call, briefly wondering why she was calling him at 11.30am on a Tuesday.
“Hey you. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Nah, just got home from the gym. What’s up?” he replied as he flopped on the couch and kicked his shoes off.
“Well…. I was wondering what you were doing tonight… We’re hosting this super posh evening at work for a potential client, big money, blah blah blah and it starts before Tasha gets home. I won’t get back until super late and I know she’s had a shit day today so I was wondering if you were up for a little role playing to cheer her up.”
Christopher chuckled. “There’s role playing now?” Continue reading
I have friends who have kids with autism and a post like this one helps me understand a little bit what it must be like, as a parent.
glass half full
You will know today is your birthday because we will tell you “Happy Birthday!” You don’t know how to respond except to echo “Happy Birthday!” and you don’t know what birthdays mean, other than you get to sing a catchy tune with those words in it. All day yesterday, when I would tell you “It’s your birthday tomorrow!” you responded by singing “Happy Birrrrthday dear Carson!” because Carson is in your class and you went to his birthday party in September. You don’t know that we will have to train you to answer “How old are you?” with “Six.”
You don’t know that I’m having a hard time believing you’re six. That I’m quickly realizing that this is getting harder as you get older. You don’t know that one of my least favorite questions from strangers is “How old is he?” because I could always tell they…
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Told you I’d get around to this sometime. This is the second part of what I really hope is going to be only a two-part piece on school clothing; part one is here if you missed it the first time around. Before I begin, I’m going to quote myself from the first piece. This rule still applies, and in fact it applies more, because I’m more likely to trip up given the specific nature of this post when compared to the first. So, without further ado:
Lemme make this crystal clear right now: women are not, under any circumstances, responsible for the reactions of men or boys to their clothing. Period. Point-blank. If at any point in this piece I say anything that appears to contradict that statement, I should be called on it and I am wrong.
I’m probably gonna screw that up at least once. I’m not kidding about…
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We took the girls to the local library after school today. My wife took some of her uni stuff, because she has an assignment due at midnight tonight. For the first time ever, I took my laptop (usually I take my notebook).
Earlier today she was studying in our bedroom and got sidetracked writing a very smutty flash fiction instead. I got to read it before we went to pick up the girls and it kinda inspired me. In that it reminded me of something I wrote last year that might fit in the flash fiction format. So I opened that document again and had a look.
The first part of the story is just over 1000 words. The second part is about 650 words. I decided to add to the third part of the story and I was 330 words into writing more when my battery died.
It still had over 50% left but since it’s been dying, it just shuts down when it gets around the 50% mark. I looked around the part of the library we were sitting in for a power outlet but there were none.
The male character was just about to take his clothes off when my computer shut down and I can’t remember if it ate a bit of my words or not.
My laptop battery is a cock block.
it seems you decided to eat my profile photo.
I tried to fix it, it didn’t work. I deleted the photos I had uploaded and reuploaded the one I wanted. I was hoping it would fix the problem. But it doesn’t look like it has.
Yesterday was the 15th of October, which, for us members of the club no one ever wants to be a part of, means Pregnancy & Baby Loss Awareness Day and the end of Pregnancy & Baby Loss Awareness Week (9-15 October, every year).
Yesterday was the first time since I lost my daughter at 24 weeks in 2006 that I had no special plans. No memorial service to go to, not since Sands Wanganui shut down nearly two years ago now. Last year we went over to a friend’s house, a few of us lit our candles for the Global Wave of Light at 7pm and we read some poems and took comfort in the fact that we are not alone, that others know what the pain of losing a child feels like.
This year it was just me and Emma. She put our candles on the deck near the pretty flowers and succulents. I lit the candles and we sat on the deck, holding each other’s hand and watching the flames for a while, thinking about our babies.
That club no one ever wants to be a member of I mentioned before? I became a member at Christmas 2002 when my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and then on 17 August 2006 my baby girl Chloé was born sleeping at 24 weeks. She had severe spina bifida and there was nothing any doctor could do for her.
It’s for my babies I light a candle on the 15th of October every year.
For my babies and all the other babies who die every year.
We Will Remember Them.
On school dress codes and uniform policies that need consistency or what’s the point. Personally haven’t had to deal with that yet but it’s all going to change next year when Miss10 turns 11 and goes to Intermediate School…
You may have noticed– and hopefully you clicked through and read the whole thing– my reblog of a piece Gretchen Kelly did for Feminist Friday about school dress codes. All in all, it’s a really good piece, and I popped up a couple of times in the comments to address stuff that I thought was worth discussing, all the while going I will not blog about dress codes in my head.
Well, fail, I guess, because here we go. A couple of words of warning: first, I currently expect this to be a bit on the long side, and second, I think I’m probably just going to stream-of-consciousness the whole thing rather than try and organize it in a way that makes sense, because it’s Sunday night and this is a complicated subject and I still don’t feel like thinking as hard as it probably deserves. So if you…
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