Have you ever heard the phrase horse latitudes before? If you haven’t, don’t worry, it’s an outdated term with several different interpretations that the average person would have no call to know. The origins of the saying have absolutely no baring on what I’m about to tell you. That is, other than to briefly explain what it is so that you can better understand where I’m at right now.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my
The horse latitudes is an old sailing phrase that indicated that a ship had reached a location with calm waters and no crosswinds. Of course, this was prior to the days of two and four stroke engines. Are you impressed that I know that terminology, because you should be? With no prevailing winds, large ships would find themselves stalled out in the middle of the ocean. Supplies would begin to run short and sailors would start to panic.
The inhumane (and insane) fix for this often began with water rationing. The animals on board, specifically the horses, would bear the brunt of this solution. When the ships remained moored in the middle of the sea they would begin unloading their least precious cargo, the horses. This would both lighten their load and reduce the use of their finite resources.
I’m sitting on the toilet, pretending to eat a fake carrot as my toddler stands less than an inch from my bent knees begging me to keep going.
“Eat more, mommy.” She says, and pushes the carrot back to my face. Again I make the “om nom nom” noise and pretend to nibble on the tip. “It’s ice-cream!” She yells, reminding me that I can’t even eat a fake carrot correctly, because now it’s been transformed into a fake ice-cream cone. Get it together, mommy, her face says. Parenting is kind of your job. Continue reading
Every year since we first began dating, my husband and I have thrown a St. Patrick’s Day party. The tradition began as “kegs and eggs”, which was basically just an excuse for some serious day drinking. Over the years, as all of our friends began having children, it evolved into something a little more family friendly.
By the time we had our first child our annual green and orange clad shit show had morphed into something different. It had become part wild party and part daycare, complete with an arts and crafts table.
We served champagne and juice boxes, we catered to everyone. Continue reading
When I became pregnant with my first daughter I was a consumer of information. I googled, I read books, I asked every woman that I laid eyes on, that had birthed a child, all of my many questions.
I felt buoyed by the satisfaction of having knowledge. Every ache or pain got googled or a call to the OB to make sure it was within the range of normal. I checked and cross checked every item that I ate. I even made the special no egg cookie dough when my craving got to be so bad that I thought I would die without it (it was garbage, by the way… spend the money, buy the good stuff). Continue reading