Ginger fruit bowl and fuck your baby advice

SOMETHING MY HUSBAND SAID RECENTLY THAT MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T HAVE: “I feel great! I got twelve hours of sleep last night!” The Barnacle, my sweet, sweet boy, is three months old, and already he’s lived through earthquakes and some of the worst wildfires California has ever seen. His new trick is shoving both of his…

Breakfast in bed and keeping the baby alive

I’ve settled on a word for how having a baby makes me feel: peeled. If I’m not lurching from one room to another in underpants I haven’t changed in three days and a maternity bra wide open on both sides like some kind of fetish gone wrong, my post-pregnancy belly hanging out like a plastic…

Saturday-morning crepes and WTF second trimester

It’s been a sweet time with SJ, my provider of intercourse — still! What a champ! — since last May. A couple Sundays ago, I lay on my back on SJ’s bed (fully clothed — it’s not that kind of a transition) and pressed a stethoscope against my belly — and the baby kicked the stethoscope! SJ came…

Pesto scrambled eggs, Whitney Houston, and life with SJ

All week I’ve felt like crying. It feels exactly like the low-grade nausea I had during my first trimester, without the nausea. There’s no REASON for me to cry, and I DON’T cry, but I FEEL like crying. One afternoon I stood in the bathroom at work, just stood there in front of the full-length…

Squash breakfast tacos and WTF earthquake

On Tuesday, September 13, 2016, at 12:50 a.m., I was literally I AM USING THAT WORD CORRECTLY PAY ATTENTION MILLENNIALS jolted by a 3.5 earthquake. The United States Geographical Survey, which one becomes familiar with when one moves to Northern California, rated it a 3.5. Within seconds, dozens of my neighbors were online. Everyone said it felt stronger than a 3.5….

Breakfast tacos and 18 cm. = 7 ins.

My Mom updated her website. This is the description of one of her artist books: Why Me? 2003 Why Me? is about acne from an adolescent girl’s perspective. Text by Jenny [last name]. 9″ x11″ handmade paper with embedded dried beans, inkjet text. Did my mother bake cookies? No. Did she drive me to choir rehearsal? Only under…

Berries and yogurt and Rose and Dave’s nightmare landlord

I have a cousin. Let’s call her Agata. She’s my mother’s first cousin once removed, she’s my parents’ downstairs neighbor, she’s my parents’ landlord, and she’s driving my mother around the bend, which is bad news for everyone. Agata is in her early ’70s. She’s always lived in the same apartment, since she was kicked out of…

Granola and being called a bitch twice in one day

Two of my closest friends recently had kids (again), which, as David Cross says, is rude. I made a date to visit the friend who lives in the Excelsior and decided that, instead of taking a cab, I’d take public transportation. I didn’t realize she lives within walking distance of a BART station, so I ended up taking three…