Tamarah Rockwood

You really, seriously wanted this week to be different!

Before I discovered I had celiac, I ate whatever I desired. Since discovering this autoimmune blessing (yes, blessing), I research what food I am, not only putting into my body, but into my family’s as well. I taught myself how to cook nutritious food from scratch that actually tastes amazing (these two do not always go hand-in-hand).

"If I am holding an amber beer in my hand, I am not talking about naptimes. If I hear shop from your lips, I am ordering you three more martinis and getting you shitfaced..."

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

I just wonder. . . if my daughter came home one day and said she couldn’t have a job because she was too old, how would that be right?

My house is a mess, my patience is hardly a composure I explore regularly, and there are times when I feel like I am the biggest failure in the history of modern motherhood. Some days I’m just shooting for a participation trophy. There is no award for ignoring the laundry until everyone is out of underwear, or letting my 3-year-old watch Mulan 3 times before lunch. Did I mention I take my kids to McDonald’s once a week?

The last episode of “MyCoffeePot & Me” aired 2 years ago when I woke up to an unresponsive pot.