Before I started writing this, I could have defined myself in about a thousand different ways…but since I’ve put myself on the spot, I guess I’ll start with the basics:
I am the mother of two: a sweet little boy that is four and a precious little girl that is about 9-months-old. Their father and I are not married, but we co-habitate and co-parent. You probably have a lot of questions. That’s okay. A lot of people do. All that we need to focus on here is that we have a slightly less than normal family unit and we’re as happy as any one family unit can be – and most importantly, our kids are happy campers.
I started writing a very long time ago, but I’m relatively certain my first published work was My Best Friend Todd – published in K5 circa 1996 by Kate Rich, my lovely teacher that encouraged us to write books every week on manila paper. Every Friday, she would “bind” her favorite three in white cardboard and illustrate a cover for us. One day, Todd made good on his promise to bring me a Tadpole from the pond behind his house and I wrote a book about him. This was probably the beginning of my need to overcompensate for small gifts given to my person, but that’s for a therapist to determine at a later date. Regardless, I’ve written a lot in the subsequent decades and here we are.
My mother (among other people) has encouraged me to write this and it feels somewhat awkward that I should presume that people want to read these inner ramblings. If you wanted to hear somebody squawk about things, wouldn’t you just listen to a crazy person scream at pigeons in the park or go to a Nikki Minaj concert? No? Okay. But part of this blog is self-serving in that I think more parents – humans in general! – need to read something REAL. They need to read something from somebody that feels too lazy to take the trashcan from the street to its place by the recycle bin on Friday afternoons and that also searches for things that they’re actually holding in their hand when they’re running 5 minutes late.
This blog is as real as I can get while also knowing that my sweet grandmother will be reading this thing. I promise not to really cuss often, but I’ve also been known to fuck up a one-car funeral. So no promises. (I’m sorry, Mimi!!!)
They say it takes true trauma to be funny. I’ve been told that I’m funny, and I think it’s because I’ve seen some shit in my day. My parents have done their best to protect me from the harsh realities of certain situations, but part of my hilarity comes from the fact that absolutely nothing is always sunshine and roses – even when it is. (Did you guys just hear that? That was the sound of my mother grabbing her phone and calling me to ask me just what traumas I’ve been subjected to and what in the world am I talking about?!)
I am not an influencer. Trust me, if I was, I’d be influencing my off-spring to brush his teeth without offering obscene sums of money and random Paw Patrol items – I wouldn’t be wasting that influence on strangers. I love you guys – but I also love that “no cavity report” from our beloved Dr. Todd even more (and if you, as a parent, say that you don’t get a small high from your kid having no cavities, then you’re lying). I will, however, mention some brands that I love. This is just because I really like my own opinion of things.
I will (eventually) have a resources section of my blog and will have guest writers upon occasion. I’ve been really lucky to have some very cool people in my life, and I won’t be stingy with them if they’re willing to write. This blog isn’t about me. It’s about providing content that you guys want to read.
I will not be posting about politics or extremely controversial topics. We get enough of that elsewhere. This is a space for other rants. Disclaimer: If I do, I’ll have two other people write counter arguments in addition to my post. But I really don’t plan to. It is exhausting to even think about.
Lastly, I think I should mention that I am the sum of the people that have graced my life. It’s almost silly for me to take credit for my writing, because I truly am an aggregate of some really amazing humans. But one thing sticks out for me: a dear family friend, Mariam Lukken (an author and amazing woman in general) once listened to me complain that “I only get worse at writing – I’m not getting any better” and she told me “Hannah – as long as you’re writing, you’re not getting worse. The only way you can get worse is by not writing. So just keep writing.”
So that’s my promise to you guys – the only way we can get worse is by not keepin’ on keepin’ on (as parents, as adults, as whatevers) – so we may not get better with this blog and what it provides to you guys, but at least we can be okay – because I’m going to keep writing until I don’t think it helps even one person feel seen. And “okayest” is what we’re here for, folks. Okayest isn’t so bad at all.
Cheers to being the Okayest!!
Love,
Zito
The World's Okayest Mother 