Get widget

Monday, August 31, 2015

How to make that ridiculous cake with the tie-numbers inside -- Fail Kit...

"You could just make a freaking funfetti cake, and all the kids would be like, 'oh my god, you made a funfetti cake. You are a queen."


Monday, August 24, 2015

Enough -- Guest Post

I was white until I shed my skin,
Looked to depths of my cavern within.
Same was I to the woman, child, man,
Whose original shell was black, brown or tan.
Blood, bones, beating heart, thinking brain.
Walking Earth but a mere human stain.
Members of an anthropoid evolving race.
Sharing an overpopulated crowded space.
Colour of hair, shape of eyes, no more
Relevant if only to start a war.
Idolatry, false prophets, prayers to gods,
Proselytizing ideology competing, at odds.
Racist hatred blood shed, time wasted, lost.
Eviscerated humanity, and for what cost?
In end we return to dust, we disappear,
Gone with corporeal, prejudices and fear.
Equanimity achieved only in the ground.
Past due, hope for the living to be found.
History passes, time melts, into ether fades,
Till marching men storm carrying blades.
Cycle repeats, wounds unseal, hatred reborn,
Nothing learned, for our souls we must mourn.

(c) 2015. Naomi Elana Zener. All Rights Reserved.

Naomi Elana Zener is the author of both Deathbed Dimes and satire fiction, which is posted on her blog Satirical Mama. Her vociferous blogging has been read and appreciated by industry bigwigs such as Giller Prize winner Dr. Vincent Lam and New York Times best-selling author and journalist Paula Froelich. Naomi blogs for Huffington Post and her articles have been published by KvellerAbsrd Comedy, and Erica Ehm’s Yummy Mummy Club. She’s currently working on her sophomore novel. You can connect with her on her website or on Twitter @satiricalmama.


Friday, August 7, 2015

Birthday parties in the modern age

My kids are turning seven next Monday, and to celebrate, I'm throwing them a party at a local bowling alley on Saturday.

Now, when I was a kid, we all still lived close to our extended family, so my network of aunts, uncles and cousins was virtually limitless. Because of that, my mother had extra hands on board, and extra friends of friends and siblings to help undertake this task. And at the very least, SOMEONE would show up to my party because they were related and their mom brought them.

But it never got to that point because when I was growing up, the Internet wasn't a thing. In order for my friends to get together, my parents had to make an effort to get to know their parents, and they did. But it was also easier because everyone was in the same boat. Communities had to get to know each other. They were there for life. Other parents stuck at the tee-ball game would chat to you because they didn't have smart phones and their network of friends far away in the computer. They exchanged phone numbers. We had a post-it note with my friends' number on it in our cabinet for 20 years, no lie. And it wasn't weird to go out and ask for the numbers and then use them.

When my kids were in kindergarten, I went to a parent-teacher conference night and basically attacked other parents for their phone numbers. And I never used but a few of those numbers because the parents and I never had cause to interact again, and honestly, I don't even remember their names. I should add that no one has asked for my number. It's just not something that's done anymore. I've never gotten a call from a parent asking my kids to come over to play--a mainstay of my own childhood.

And so, I find myself here. Just a few days before this party. With three kids coming.

I sent out a mass email to the 53 kids in my kids' classes last year. But no one knows who I am. No one even probably remembers who my kids are. Friendships are...different these days. I don't know anyone's address so I couldn't send cute invitations in the mail. When the bowling alley gave me a stack of invitations, I was like, um. I can't use these. I can't call to confirm or make this in any way personal because I simply do not know any of these people. It's only by luck that the three kids are coming at all, their parents probably happy to have an afternoon off for any reason, and my being a fellow parent at our elementary school official enough for it to be okay.

I want to break out of this for my kids and for their social lives, but I'm not quite sure how to do it. Even when I have in past invited children to play, the parents have stayed at my house, probably because they don't know me because we never have an opportunity to speak. At least not one that we take. I'd probably have been better off introducing myself as "the woman you see walking with twins behind her every school morning" because that's how people actually know me. I'm serious. I'll get stopped on the street, in the gym, even at a restaurant or bar with "are you the woman who walks your twins to school every day?" This is how far we've wandered, people.

I have to send another mass email out today to the parents who didn't respond, meaning, I have to go through and match email responses to email addresses and delete those who responded from the second mailing because I do not know these parents' names. It's all very sad and embarrassing.

Right now, though, we do have six kids coming, which is plenty for me.

This coming school year, I will do my best to promote at least acquaintanceship with other parents. I will try to learn about at least four families and their children. I will reach out, at least a little, and hope against hope that that is reciprocated. My kids deserve better than this online life. Even if it's very hard for me to try.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

You can mourn a loss while celebrating a gift -- Guest post

Okay, so I'm going to talk about something sad. You don't have to read it; I won't feel badly if you don't. But I deserve to be able to talk about it. I don't ever deserve to hear the words "why can't you take the feelings of the rest of us into consideration?" again when I am having a moment of mourning. I do take the feelings of other women - friends, family, acquaintances - into consideration. I invite them to talk and mourn with me. But I will never again sit quietly as I am told I am being selfish for hurting, for being sad, for grieving.

I came across and ‪#‎aboutthebaby‬ a few mornings ago, and it got me thinking.

Late in August of 2014, my then-boyfriend Chris and I found out we were expecting. We were blown away and scared as fuck, and generally running around like chickens with our heads cut off, but we were excited. We were happy.

We spent the next weeks planning, talking about where our future should go. How we had put off a real relationship for 16 years, and how this was the sign we finally needed to move forward with that. How we would become a family with my two other children, and how this was what we had both longed for for such a great period of time. And, most importantly, how foolish we both were for thinking that we would find this happiness in others.

October 7th dawned bloody and crampy and devastating. I went home empty, when I was once a sacred vessel that housed what was supposed to go on to be a life that shared the best of both of us. The devastation was tremendous. I won't talk about how I coped --- or, rather, how I didn't cope. That's a side of myself many of you can guess at but have no confirmation of, and I'm not ready to provide it.

Chris was my rock, but his devastation was tremendous, as well. However, it is his own, and it is not mine to tell you about.

As my body recovered from the loss and my mind and heart cracked further, a sneaking suspicion overtook me. I woke up one morning and could smell the neighbor's breakfast.

Sure enough, there were two lines, there was a digital "pregnant," there was confirmation after confirmation. This was October 30th. Not a full month later. Not a period between the two. This wee bit of life was delivered on the wings of the one that left us far too soon.

Chris and I again mustered our combined faith and considered this a sign that things were truly meant to be. Our family was meant to soldier on through the hard times and the easy ones. We had finally come home to each other.

We weren't out of the woods yet. Another three weeks, another morning woken with blood and pain and heartache. Only, there was still hope. There was still a small miracle in there, fighting the entire time. Our son, born on June 24th, 2015, who we joyously named Felix, had a twin who was not meant to be. But Felix was strong enough to go on for both of them. He hung out through the thick and the thin of the perilous nine months to come.

I miss my angels, I won’t lie. I refer often to only one of them, but I never forget there are two. Someday, maybe I'll see them when this life comes to a close and a new chapter in our universal existence begins. Until then, my little loves, fly high and free for mommy. Fly on the currents of my love, and know that you will always be cherished. And for the other loss mothers out there reading my words, take heart. We will encounter them again either in this life, as they are brought back to us at a time when they are better suited for this world, or again in the next, when none of us are plagued by heartache and pain.


Jackie Monck-Homan is a happily married mother of three beautiful children. She blogs at


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...