The Toxic Housewife

Books and movies, the ones that are full of shit, love to depict the instant bonding between a mother and child. They'd have us believe a postpartum woman immediately switches from a groggy, exhausted laborer to a love-filled mom. And the chaos of the world rights itself; Ta DAAAH!

Don't you wish you were part of the Cookie Co-Op?

I like glass.  Bee likes pottery. I like things to match.  Bee appreciates the creativity of individualism.

It seems odd to me that the heart would be the nearly world-wide symbol for love, when this is what a heart looks like. I wonder how different the world would be if we had chosen a different symbol for love: say, the lung, or the appendix.  Come on; wouldn't 'I spleen you!' look great on a Valentine's Day card?

I almost didn't do anything for Valentine's Day, but then I was reading an article about the worst Valentine's Day gifts, which included giving nothing at all.  And, while I may not have minded getting nothing before, now that article made me feel like I'd be lame for not doing anything.  Since he's seen me sneaking around, I think Bee's going to feel the pressure to reciprocate with some form of gift.  Nothing says love like guilt!

Although I am a terrible cook, I am a pretty good baker. And, while cooking scares me, I actually enjoy baking. Mostly because I enjoy sugar and fats. But also because I find baking – in small amounts, mind you – to be a relaxing, fulfilling activity. The Great Experiment has allowed me more time and energy to devote to baking. A little too much time, perhaps, as I've found myself itching to bake cookies whenever I happen to be bored. And, while I love that our house therefore always smells good and that my family always has access to delicious treats, all this baking has had a few negative side effects: namely, its effect on our sugar and butter bills, and its effect on my waistline. For although I strive to embrace the idea that “Big Is Beautiful”, gaining six pounds in six weeks may be a little extreme.