Last weekend, families across the country gathered for hot dogs, fireworks, American flags, and clouds of bug spray. So much bug spray. My family was no different: we had our annual party at my sister’s house. But our party was better this year: we had a kiddie pool and a bucket filled with squirt guns. As the Fun Aunt (read: the only one with no children, which means I have surplus energy to run around the yard with the little monsters), I quickly armed myself and sneak-attacked some kiddos with a spray of water to the face. We ducked behind bushes and trees, shrieking with glee and, honestly, relief at a the cool bursts of water on a 90-degree suburban day.
But as we dodged and weaved and got wet, something occurred to me. I was playing with a gun. A toy gun, sure. But I was playing with a toy gun with kids. Keep reading »
Judging by her sweet face, polka dot dress, and pink tights, most people expected six-year-old “America’s Got Talent” contestant Aaralyn to sing a cute version of “Animal Crackers In My Soup,” but that’s not Aaralyn’s music style of choice. When she took the stage, backed by her nine-year-old brother Izzy on the drums, something totally unexpected — and totally awesome — came out of her mouth: an original screamo song called “Zombie Skin.” Just push play, OK? You won’t regret it. [YouTube]
I receive innumerable beauty and style-related PR emails each day, ranging on the spectrum from the genuinely appealing (well, of course I would like to try this new beauty product!) to the questionable and bizarre. They are usually boring and occasionally troubling (no, I do not wish to attend your “Cellulite Diaries” event, please do not make me go to that), so unless there’s an invitation to reply to or a product I want to call in, I generally just file ‘em away. But every so often I read something that is so baffling, so tone-deaf, SO STRAIGHT-UP FUCKING INCOMPREHENSIBLE, I feel it is my god-given duty as the recipient of this email to share it with the world at large. Like, HOW DID SOMEBODY ALLOW YOU TO SEND THIS? IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS OKAY? I opened one such email today.
My interest was piqued on the spot by the title, “What Your Kids’ Hair Says About You.” Like, what could the style of a child’s hair possibly say about a parent as a person? WELL. Cozy Friedman, “kids hair authority” and owner of Cozy’s Cuts for Kids, insists that the cut and style you choose for your child “speaks volumes” about your own personality. Is that strange and mostly baseless? Yes. Is that DUMB? Absolutely. It is offensive? Nah. HERE’S WHAT IS. Keep reading »
Remember how George Foreman named each of his five sons George? He couldn’t get enough of his own name, I guess. Well, a Brazillian mother of 12 has got him beat by a friggin’ mile. She’s named each of her 15 kids Walter. Like, all of them. Even the girls.
Erotides Brandao promised she’d name her firstborn after her husband Walter — and she did. The girl’s name is Walterlucia. But then Walter got a big head about it, and decided all of his kids would bear his name. Walter died in 2003, but the tradition continues on: all 33 of his grandchildren also have Walter in their names.
And my, did Brandao get creative.
Keep reading »
Last week, I was in a conversation on Facebook in which I admitted to not liking kids. (My comment: “Real talk: I don’t actually like babies, actually, or children.”) I thought about taking it down as soon as I posted it. An hour later, I was still thinking about taking it down. No one paid much attention to the comment; it’s not really a secret among my friends that I feel this way, although one friend wrote “Yikes,” which I’m still not sure how to respond to. Nevertheless, I felt like I had crossed some serious line. I post everything I write — mostly personal essays that connect to my political beliefs — on social media. As such, this status is definitely not the first time I’ve insulted someone with my beliefs. Yet affirming my dislike of children on Facebook seemed like a whole new level of evil.
But still, I didn’t take the status down. Keep reading »
A lot of little girls want to dress up as princesses or Disney characters for their birthdays. But Emma, the five-year-old daughter of photographer Jaime Moore, had another idea. Instead, said Jaime, “It started me thinking about all the REAL women for my daughter to know about and look up too, REAL women who without ever meeting Emma have changed her life for the better.” So Emma and Jaime created a photo shoot where Emma imitated real-life heroines, including Susan B. Anthony, Amelia Earhart and Jane Goodall. Explains Jaime of the project,
“We chose 5 women (five amazing and strong women), as it was her 5th birthday but there are thousands of unbelievable women (and girls) who have beat the odds and fought (and still fight) for their equal rights all over the world……..so let’s set aside the Barbie Dolls and the Disney Princesses for just a moment, and let’s show our girls the REAL women they can be.”
The portraits are, in a word, stunning. And Emma is so, so, lucky to have a mom who’s setting her up to succeed with positive role models. Check out a couple more after the jump! Keep reading »
Now that I’m an old-ass boring married lady, spending all my time vacuuming in heels, watching my stories and making martinis at 5 p.m. in anticipation of the imminent arrival of the most interesting man in my world, the only thing left for me to do in life is get pregnant.
But that is not the plan. Well, the making myself martinis at 5 p.m. is frequently part of the plan. Which would be a bad plan if, indeed, Patrick and I were trying to have kids. But this Sunday, and every forseeable third Sunday in May after that, I will celebrate my mom and my mother-in-law, and never be celebrated myself.
By my own design. Of my own volition. With the express agreement of my husband, who will similarly find himself celebrating his dad and father-in-law on future third Sundays in June, but never receive a hideous tie of honor himself.
I realize this isn’t normal for most people. But whether it’s normal or not, let me ask you to err on the side of not being a presumptuous snoot when talking to people who don’t have kids and who, moreover, don’t want to have kids. Keep reading »