Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Category Archives: Stupid Drawings

Drawings done by yours truly. Mostly, they’re pretty bad. But some are funny despite my lack of skill.

Years ago, a woman told me she’d met her husband online. I was judgmental and horrified. Sure that the two of them must be super-nerds, I wondered why she didn’t meet people in bars or at work like normal folks did. I tried to be relaxed looking, but am pretty sure that rather than displaying a […]

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You’re familiar with mindfulness, meditation, and self care, but not because you’ve consciously practiced them. Decide to practice them. Sit on your floor in the quiet, hands placed just-so on your knees, and tell your brain to be still. It’ll be anything but. Should you move house for a bigger yard? Your ankle itches. Is it wrong […]

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Sometimes, I think about legacies and wonder whether it’s too late for me to leave one that means anything. I’m in my (late-ish) 40’s. I’ve had good jobs and did good things in them. I’ve bought homeless people food, donated clothing, time, and money. But those things are mostly about being human. They don’t exactly […]

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Ker-clump, ker-clump, ker-clump. The floor shakes above me – my son is running laps. It’s not exactly running, although he is fast. The movement reminds me of baby-him crawling on one knee while the other leg semi-walked. I guess it’s a type of skipping, but more musical and dinosaur-like. Primal somehow, and so him. I think about […]

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A long long time ago, back in the 80’s… (and 70’s), kids ran feral all day until their parents rang a cowbell at dusk from the front porch signaling supper-time. For pee-breaks and snacks, they popped in at whoever’s house was closest. The older kids looked out for the little ones between giving important life […]

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T’was the night before BlogHer, 11:08 pm; while trying to pack, I wipe my son’s ass from a late-night BM. Wondering what to wear has become a bit of a chore, ’cause I realize my pants were each designed for a bore. A bore I am not and the last minute shitshow I know, so I write a […]

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