Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Pen Name Jane peeks behind the curtains of a household with a new baby.
Oh, what a special time! You’re pregnant with your first child, and you and your husband are so proud. You can’t drink anymore, but that’s fine. It’s worth it, right? Your husband still can. So he does, and he goes out to bars. And for a while you go with him and everyone loves having you around because you’re the designated driver. But you quickly realize that drunk people are boring and it is only temporarily amusing to say to yourself, look, this guy is so drunk he is telling the same story again. You try to talk to anyone, but they are all happily enraptured in the retelling, like kids who can’t have enough of the same storybook (but you don’t know about that yet). So you just roll your eyes and decide: OK, you’re ready to drive …
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Pen Name Jane waxes pathetic on marriage and Green Eggs and Ham.
Marriage Vows for Her. By Rev. Seuss Will you love his dirty socks? Will you love his midnight talks? Will you love his cans of beer, that he leaves both far and near? Do you love him as you wish, or will you hate each dirty dish? Do you love him here and there? Even in white underwear? Marriage Vows for Him. Will you love those perky breasts, when upon her knees they rest? Will you love her cranky tone, and not wish to be alone? Will you love her squishy thighs, and put up with those pouty cries? Do you love her here and there? Even in huge underwear? I have to admit I haven’t spent much time writing this week. I have been frantically trying to spend fun time with my husband. Seems like everyone’s marriage is going down the pooper…
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
She has got her priorities straight.
It was a beautiful sunny Florida winter day and my husband and I had taken the kids downtown for ice cream; vanilla for my youngest, strawberry for my oldest, and chocolate for my husband. None for me thank you. I’m being good. Good, but no fun. We all sat outside in the warm sun, and they ate their ice cream. I closed my eyes and tried to absorb the sunlight. Then I snuck a peek at them enjoying their ice cream. I thought, who would want to hang out with me? I won’t bring myself to eat some ice cream? I realized what a grump I had been all weekend. I was pouting over some obscure disappointment that I couldn’t readily recall. (It may have had something to do with the dissatisfaction that comes from getting exactly what I wanted.) I …
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Here, let me fix your rocket with my toilet brush.
I am starting to believe house cleaning is as hard as rocket science. It’s just so easy for women to do, that we can’t comprehend how difficult it really is. Men, on the other hand, like to pretend they are above women’s work, or that they don’t care about any of it, masking their inability to grasp how all things domestic work. One time I asked my husband (since he was up and I was in the middle of dinner) if he would put the sheets in the dryer. “Sure,” he says. Then he stood, staring at the washer and dryer, sort of pushing things around on the shelf above them. “I don’t see any sheets,” he finally said. “TAKE THE FLIPPING WET BED SHEETS FROM THE WASHER AND PUT THEM INTO THE FREAKING DRYER, YOU DUMMY,” I wanted to shout. But then I …
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A How-Not-to Guide for Arguing in Front of Your Kids
I like to think of myself as a recovering Drama Queen. In moments of anger, I may seem quiet and possibly even under control, but in my head I am throwing fits, screaming and destroying people’s lives. In my head I imagine every element of my revenge. I go over the steps in painstaking detail. I hatch late-night, ski-masked plans that involve bricks thrown through windows and leaflet smear campaigns. But since I try to think of myself as a rational woman, I only indulge the queen in my imagination. Except, I have to admit, she seeps out a bit when I fight with my husband. Especially when we first got married, I liked to slam doors and throw things. I would scream in a high-pitched, truly laughable voice. And I liked to walk out, dramatic …
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Katie Dolac
12:53 pm on Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Hmmm .... Sounds a lot like being a Patch editor. more ›