prokopetz:

prokopetz:

Rape is the only crime on the books for which arguing that the temptation to commit it was too clear and obvious to resist is treated as a defence. For every other crime, we call that a confession.

I’ve gotten more angry asks about this post than I have actual reblogs.

(via theballadofrubyjean)

I can’t decide if I want to have a proper party, with her friends from baby group and all family (cousins etc we rarely see), or just have a close family gathering at home? Hmmmm

"To die would be an awfully big adventure."
- Peter Pan in the 1991 film, “Hook” played by Robin Williams  (via meghanpotter-thegirlwholived)

(via slayerofkitties9)

"

I’ll never punish my daughter for saying no.

The first time it comes out of her mouth, I’ll smile gleefully. As she repeats “No! No! No!” I’ll laugh, overjoyed. At a young age, she’ll have mastered a wonderful skill. A skill I’m still trying to learn. I know I’ll have to teach her that she has to eat her vegetables, and she has to take a nap. But “No” is not wrong. It is not disobedience.

1. She will know her feelings are valid.
2. She will know that when I no longer guide her, she still has a right to refuse.

The first time a boy pulls her hair after she says no, and the teacher tells her “boys will be boys,” we will go to her together, and explain that my daughter’s body is not a public amenity. That boy isn’t teasing her because he likes her, he is harassing her because it is allowed. I will not reinforce that opinion. If my son can understand that “no means no” so can everyone else’s.

3. She owes no one her silence, her time, or her cooperation.

The first time she tells a teacher, “No, that is wrong,” and proceeds to correct his public school, biased rhetoric, I’ll revel in the fact that she knows her history; that she knows our history. The first time she tells me “No” with the purpose and authority that each adult is entitled, I will stop. I will apologize. I will listen.

4. She is entitled to her feelings and her space. I, even a a parent, have no right to violate them.
5. No one has a right to violate them.

The first time my mother questions why I won’t make her kiss my great aunt at Christmas, I’ll explain that her space isn’t mine to control. That she gains nothing but self doubt when she is forced into unwanted affection. I’ll explain that “no” is a complete sentence. When the rest of my family questions why she is not made to wear a dress to our reunion dinner. I will explain that her expression is her own. It provides no growth to force her into unnecessary and unwanted situation.

6. She is entitled to her expression.

When my daughter leaves my home, and learns that the world is not as open, caring, and supportive as her mother, she will be prepared. She will know that she can return if she wishes, that the real world can wait. She will not want to. She will not need to. I will have prepared her, as much as I can, for a world that will try to push her down at every turn.

7. She is her own person. She is complete as she is.

I will never punish my daughter for saying no. I want “No” to be a familiar friend. I never want her to feel that she cannot say it. She will know how to call on “No” whenever it is needed, or wanted.

"
- Lessons I Will Teach, Because the World Will Not — Y.S. (via poetryinspiredbyyou)

(via naughtywater)

Isabelle has had a bad reaction to a nappy and is blistered and red.

Apart from nappy free time, any tips? She screams if I touch it to put cream on :(

Let Isabelle have nappy free time.

She pooed on the floor, pushed herself backwards and ended up with it all over herself.

Beautiful

"

day 1,
there’s something about hospital lights and how they make everything seem traslucent and unreal and i swear i don’t remember anything, but the feeling of unreality. you can’t be gone. no. things like that don’t really happen. not in real life anyway.
day 3,
i should have bought that black dress we saw when we we went to the pier. the one i have is too sexy. and you’re not around to tell me - there’s no such thing.
day 4,
i hate funerals. you’re not here to hold my hand. why did they close the casket? i wish i could see your face.
day 7,
my mother tells me i should eat something.
day 8,
is alcohol food?
day 11,
i haven’t slept in three days. i don’t want to ruin the smell of our bed. it still smells like you. like us.
day 14,
my mother washed the sheets while i was asleep on the couch. i kicked her out. i miss you. no, i don’t want to call her. yes, i will.
day 15,
the guy at the coffee shop asked me where you were today. i said you were on a trip, coming back in a week. it didn’t feel like a lie.
day 21,
our lease is almost up. i don’t know what to do. i can’t think.
day 22,
i’m keeping the apartment.
day 23,
i’m moving out.
day 24,
i can’t move out. it’s our apartment.
day 28,
i extended the lease. no name on it. it feels wrong. all of this feels wrong. come back.
day 30,
it’s been a month. i called your mother. she cried. your dad said to stop calling for a while.
day 35,
your parents want your things back.
day 36,
i can’t bring myself to empty your side of the closet.
day 37,
your shirts still smell like you.
day 38,
my therapist said to stop texting you. apparently it’s bad for me. i told her you dying was pretty crappy. she didn’t think it was funny. maybe i’m losing it.
day 58,
i still miss you every day.
day 65,
500 days of summer came out. i don’t want to watch it without you.
day 80,
i watched it. you would have hated it.
day 100,
i hate christmas.
day 101,
i’m hungover. i miss you. i can’t stop crying. my head hurts.
day 150,
i met someone. i hate that i like him. i hate that he makes me laugh. i hate that you’d think he’s a great guy.
day 170,
we had sex. i cried after.
day 200,
he found a photo of us. said it’s about time i move on. we broke up.
day 201,
i still miss you. i don’t miss him. but you’re not here.
day 270,
i got a haircut. i hate it. i look like a chipmunk.
day 271,
maybe it’s not that bad. it works from some angles.
day 302,
happy anniversary baby.
day 303,
i’m a mess. i hate you for leaving me like this.
day 304,
i don’t hate you. i’m sorry. i love you. i miss you.
day 350,
i quit. i hated that place anyway.
day 357,
i asked for my job back. it wasn’t so bad.
day 365,
i spent the whole day on your bench. now i understand why families make them.
day 370,
i’m moving out.
day 371,
i’m moving in with him. i’m sorry.
day 463,
i still miss you, but sometimes i forget.
day 500,
i’m engaged.

number disconnected

"
- m.v., 500 days of grief.  (via findingwordsforthoughts)

(via twinsjunk)

maternalgoddess:

aliengoneawesome:

I LOVE seeing mumblr pictures of happy, healthy children with absolute chaos in the background! No joking. Seriously, those kids aren’t giggling and smiling because they loved watching their mommy scrub the floor. They are happy because they are loved to infinity and are ALWAYS more important than a cup of spilled Cheerios.

This is such a tender perspective!

(via twolittlebluebirdsx)

cassbones:

carry-on-my-otp:

hangthecode:

image

a fucking pirate king at that

And it’s awesome because she started as this fucking proper Lady who was expected to marry a wealthy and accomplished, but one she did not love, but instead fell for the blacksmith and became a pirate, fucking shit up and taking names.

And she rocked every fucking second of her story, from Lady to Pirate King.

(via syntheticmomma)