Eliana Osborn

After years in apartments that should have been condemned, even these sad restroom facilities were vast improvements. And so we stayed, the husband and I, vaguely embarrassed when guests stayed over and commented on the bordello vibe of the bathroom.

Then we had a kid. No working bathtub suddenly seemed like a big deal. And the functional bathroom spaces weren’t places you’d want to hang out. There’s a lot of bathroom time once you’ve got tiny humans. (You’ve been warned.)

1. Borrow a child.

I look tired when I stay up too late. I also look tired if I get eight hours of sleep.

1. Write a damn letter.

The most important things my mother taught me included work from Neil Diamond, Billy Joel, Wham! and Whitney Houston.

My husband is worried about stigma, about Owen feeling different, about epilepsy being part of his identity. Those are sweet concerns, really. And I get it — I love the kid too. I’d never want to make his life harder in any way.

I’m not there yet. But I need to be honest—I’m closer to 40 than any other multiple of five.

Help.

Standardized tests are taking over the world. I can say this because it is true. Like a creeping vine that seems attractive and charming at first, tests appear to be reasonable for the data and direction they can provide.

I am going to have amazing posture. My neck will look so skinny just from the way I hold my head.