Conscious Uncoupling in the suburbs: An Authentic Conversation about Parenting, Life, Love and Marriage in the Year 2016
Kara and I first met 12 years ago when I placed an ad on Craigslist for a babysitter. We were both stay-at-home moms.
I wanted to work a few hours a week on a novel I was writing and Kara was “looking to earn a little extra ‘mad money.’” I remembered her saying, a little sarcastically with an ironic chuckle… which suited my personality.
We met for the first time in her kitchen and as we got to know each other, I recognized a kindred spirit: on the outside we just looked like regular moms, but on the inside, we were not women to be trifled with. We wanted to do amazing things AND raise our children OUR own way.
I’m not a politician. I’m not a social worker. I’m a mother. I’m a writer. I’m a doer. And, the issue of homelessness in Seattle has been weighing on my conscience: I NEEDED to do something.
So, being the mom of five, a woman and a voice to be reckoned with, I was compelled to write a piece about my experiences of being homeless as a child.
Summer salsa recipes you can make your own | HOT FROM THE OVEN!
June 18, 2016
“Boy, you could bottle and sell this salsa!” said my husband.
We were sitting on the deck eating dinner. The sun was shining, our kids were out playing in the yard and we were eating simple hand-held beef tacos topped with my savory and sweet summer salsas that force you to eat with your head tilted to the side so you don’t miss anything.
“Yeah, mom, this is the BEST thing you’ve ever made!” my daughter added.
Really? The BEST thing I’ve ever made? I felt my nose crinkle and mouth twist like the Church Lady from those old Saturday Night Live sketches.
“Hey, Carolyn, how’s your mom?! She still working at the salon?” Ted asks as he jags up to the butcher counter. He has a compact frame and is always moving with intensity.
Not the random chaos of say, a chicken with its head cut off, Ted is THE supreme commander of his domain: Shawn & Ted’s Quality Meat Market.
“Good, good,” I say. “She’s not working at the salon anymore, but helping a lot around our house these days,” I add.
Normally, I avoid small talk like the handle of the grocery store restroom.
It’s repugnant to me because it usually feels forced and insincere. I realize it’s a necessary social norm to the alternative of living off the grid with squirrels for friends or Starbucks in Alaska. I know that seems harsh, but really, who enjoys small talk?
An example: There’s a coffee shop I purposely avoid (of course Karma designs that it’s my husband’s favorite coffee shop) because the barista has referred to me as Caroline for the last 10 years AND because during a “serving” of small talk, he said, “You know I always think of you and your husband whenever I watch that show Mike and Molly … because you’re a writer and she’s a writer.”