Hey. I'm Rose.

I’m a 30-something writer, creator, and nine-to-fiver. I’m also a mom to what you might call an exceptionally spirited 2-year old, Ben. I live in Texas with my husband Quinn, and two dogs that closely resemble Laurel and Hardy.

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The spirit of this blog can be summed up as I once explained to my husband: “This parenting thing is bullshit.”

I am so over the perfectly curated family life. It’s — sorry if I’m repeating myself — bullshit. What’s more is that it’s bullshit people buy into, as if perfectly clean floors and and a temper that is never triggered is easily attainable. It’s a nice fantasy, but it doesn’t represent the reality of parenthood, or even life in general.

So I’m going to do my damnedest to be as straight with you as possible.


What you can expect:

  • Someone to commiserate with. Three hour bedtime fights and forgetting diapers for daycare and trying to reason with a toddler over why they just aren’t allowed to play with a hot stove: I’ve been there. I still haven’t figured out how to keep my coffee warm in the two hours between when I brew it and when I get around to drinking it.
  • Maybe just a little bit of whining. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, but no promises.
  • A healthy dose of reality. As much as I’d like for you to believe that my child never cries and that Q and I are perfectly put together and calm, gentle leaders — that’s just not who we are. We are noisy and messy and often frustrated, but equally full of love and commitment.


… and what you shouldn’t:

  • Recipes, style guides, or budgeting tips. Recipes? You mean “that cheap Chinese take out place down the street.” My daily uniform of jeans and a plaid shirt disqualify me from giving style advice. And don’t bother asking me for budgeting tips. I just try to not spend it any faster than it comes in.
  • Lists with all the things you could and should be doing differently. We’re all  doing the best we can with the tools we have. I’m not going to tell you what you’re doing wrong — but I am going to be very honest with what I’m doing wrong. Feel free to glean what lessons you can from my own faltering steps.
  • Mommy (or Daddy) shaming. We’re not talking about valid concerns for the health and well-being of children. We’re talking about the moms that scoff when you tell them you work full time. You know the type.

I started this blog at the beginning of 2018 after realizing I was in need of an outlet for the mountain of grievances that stem from being working mother. I have been struggling with postpartum depression since Ben was about 8 months old. Parenting can be a difficult, exhausting, lonely experience — even for those of us that might be surrounded by a large or strong support network. There’s an on-going crisis with mental health issues in the US. Mothers — and perhaps fathers — are under enormous pressure to either have it all or give up everything for the sake of their children.

When I’m not momming (which is about half an hour a day and maybe three cumulative hours on weekends), I write fiction, non-fiction, a variety of experimental games (one tabletop RPG and a handful of text games), and various other weird internet things. About a dozen or so oddball  Twitter bots. I design t-shirts that sell on Amazon. I do weird little embroideries from time to time that I may start selling. Scratching the creative itch is integral to my mental health.

I drink a lot of coffee and a bit of wine (donations accepted) but my one true love is a warm pint of Guinness. That and a lazy afternoon nap with the kiddo.