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Tag: Kids

Kids, Motherhood

The Last Day of Kindergarten

I meander through Home Goods, filling my cart with quirky treasures for our new home. In the office supply aisle, I grab a felt message board on a whim. Two weeks later, on the first day of school, I pose my brand new kindergartner for some snapshots by our front door. She beams as she holds up the message board: First Day of Kindergarten, 7 … Continue reading The Last Day of Kindergarten

Melissa KutscheMay 22, 2020April 25, 20213 Comments

I’m Melissa–writer, mama, bookworm, and spontaneous dancer. I share words about motherhood, books, life as a military spouse, and other sacred/ordinary things.

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I’m starting summer break a little early this year. I’m looking forward to chalk and bubbles in the driveway, hiking sand dunes, mornings at the beach, fishing on the lake, a beer on the deck after the kids go to bed, hot dogs on the grill, fruit from the farmers’ market, family bike rides, more books (and fewer screens), and way too much ice cream.
Geeta’s husband left her five years ago, but her neighbors all think she is a “self-made widow.” Her reputation as a husband-killer attracts the attention of a few women who want to learn her ways. This unique debut novel by Parini Shroff tells Geeta’s story with a light touch and dark humor, while still squeezing in a lot of social commentary about issues like abuse, women’s rights, and caste. The plot vacillates between serious and slapstick, but I think it mostly works. Shroff’s real talent is capturing the complexities of relationships of all kinds, and I especially loved learning via a recent Lit Hub piece that the Golden Girls were part of her inspiration for the women in The Bandit Queens. ​​​​​​​​​
We can’t all be good at everything. 🤷🏻‍♀️ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Poet Maggie Smith has a new memoir out, and while it might be a "divorce memoir," it is so much more than that. Smith utilizes imagery and metaphor as only a poet can in this compelling book that is essentially a series of vignettes. This memoir is about the end of a marriage and also the examination of a life, the choices we make, the roles we choose (or don't), and where we find love. The lyrical prose is filled with as many questions as answers, maybe more, and Smith almost taunts the reader at times, reminding us that the story is hers: it is a "tell-mine," not a tell-all. But I like that she comes right out and tell us what we won't be reading about, acknowledging the gaps, the blank space. In poems, the blank space can be just as powerful as the content of the stanzas, and Smith leverages this in her memoir as well, inviting the reader in with tenderness while forcing us to be comfortable without all the information. Even those who haven't experienced divorce or separation of this magnitude will recognize themselves in this honest account of reckoning with pain and seeking to understand in order to heal.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
There are two types of people in the world: ​​​​​​​​​
Tabitha Carvan was spending most of her time at home with two young children when she became captivated by–err, obsessed with–Benedict Cumberbatch. Her obsession was surprising to everyone, and maybe most of all to Tabitha herself. But after feeling that motherhood had stripped away her sense of identity, discovering Benedict Cumberbatch allowed her to re-discover herself at the same time. The subtitle of this book is “The Joy of Loving Something–Anything–Like Your Life Depends on It,” and I couldn’t help but consider my own preoccupations and passions and what it looks like when people, especially women and mothers, boldly follow their interests. This book is quirky and offers laugh out loud moments alongside opportunities for reflection. You don’t have to give a hoot about Benedict Cumberbatch to appreciate Tabitha’s story. Even though I’m not re-hanging my Teen Bop posters on the wall, this memoir truly encouraged me to pursue, enjoy, and share the things I love unabashedly.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I can't decide if I'm more offended or impressed by the correct use of air quotes here. 10 points for Slytherin!​​​​​​​​​
The other day I shared my birthday wish list, and it became apparent that, like me, many of you are also very interested in attending an *NSYNC reunion concert. (If you weren’t, I’ll assume it’s because you’re a loyal BSB fan, and that is okay; we can still be friends. I will admit to owning and enjoying the Millennium CD.) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
38 // No, I didn’t shave my legs for this. I can’t remember the last time I painted my nails, the last time I glossed my lips, the last time I let a pit stain bring me shame. I don’t plan on hiding my stretch marks, my under eye circles, my gray hairs; I'm a sucker for show-and-tell. Let me be clear, I’m an adult mammal–I’ve got hair on my arms, an appetite, the urge to tear your throat out if you come after my young. I don’t TikTok or Snapchat or crypto-anything, but I do make up verbs and sing while I cook dinner and dance around the house when I could be folding laundry. My personal style is high-waisted jeans, leggings-are-pants, and animal print is a neutral. Don’t get me wrong–I wear my insecurities like custom jewels. But I still know all the dance moves from those videos on TRL. I had a silver flip phone and butterfly clips before you were born. I’m not so good at volume control. Let me be clear—I’m a grown-up woman.​​​​​​​​​

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