I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
The guy knocking on my front door in the middle of a weekday doesn’t seem like a Jehovah. Or Seventh Day Adventist. And it’s too early in the season for the disadvantaged teenagers hawking out-of-print magazines in 1000 degree heat or college kids indentured to knife companies or solar energy schemes. That’s probably why I answer the door. Maybe he needs help. Lost a dog. Or is a long-lost boyfriend and found me on Facebook. I
He’s been dragged to prom pictures for his three big sisters for nearly ten years, but the day has come when it’s finally little brother’s turn for his own high school prom, and this mom is ready. After successfully navigating prom season with three daughters who attended a combined seven proms, I began a new chapter of parenting, this time from the boy’s perspective, despite his very best efforts to keep me in the
Teenagers take a simple ‘don’t ask, don’t tell‘ approach to sharing details from their life with prodding parents. For some reason, this kid of mine, this fourth and final run through the teenager hormonal machine, thinks this is my first prom rodeo. What’s a parent to do? Ask questions. I’m an asshole parent for asking a barrage of questions about the forthcoming junior prom. My youngest kid, the Boy, graces us with his presence
What is open carry? It’s when you got yourself a firearm, and wear it wild-west style, loud and proud, for all the world to see just cuz you can. Attention K-Mart shoppers! At the library or town park, the movies or the mall, at the road race or concert – just in case trouble erupts, you’re ready to fight back, cuz you’re a good guy with a gun, a god-given
Before our country was completely fucked, I was a single issue voter, channeling all my guilt, grief, and anger into gun violence prevention after a military grade weapon in the hands of a mentally ill young man mowed down classrooms of kids here in Newtown. That was until President Trump began to dismantle all things American, all policies we have come to assume would be safe and secure, like um, safety and security. You know it’s gotta
If I could trade places for one week, one day even, with anyone, I would trade places with a man. Any man. Except maybe a black man, because, well, you know, times are a bit tough for the black man today. And yesterday. And tomorrow. Especially tomorrow, with the mostest mediocre white-ish orangeman of all deciding what’s what, and which lives matter. But if I could be a man for just
It’s a good title, but not SEO sufficient for what comes below. If titled appropriately, I’ll be trolled forever by creepy predators. Went to my mailbox and pulled out these two beauties. Together. The same day. So if I were to title this blog post accurately, it might be: Blowjobs and American Girl Dolls Or Boobs and dolls in my mailbox Or Bras & Dolls Or Girls Grow Up See the
My mother-in-law has commented on my writing exactly once. Once. “You spelled hear wrong.” That’s it. Once. But that’s how I found out she reads me – and is an excellent proofreader. Can’t say the same about Cousin Eloise. The perfect family matriarch strikes back. Again and again. Cousin Eloise never comments on my writing, but emails directly her disapproval. Her dissatisfaction also graced the post-script of her annual, heavy linen Christmas card,
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kate Mayer is a writer, humorist, and activist writing out loud with humor and grace about parenting, social issues, midlife, and, sigh, gun violence prevention. Mayer shares life as she lives it in Newtown, Connecticut. Since the Sandy Hook shootings, she writes and speaks often about and for Newtown, sharing stories to connect people to create kinder, safer communities. VOICE OF THE YEAR HONOREE She is a 2017 BlogHer Voice of the Year Honoree, and her blog was named 2017 Best … Read More Here...
kate@kathrynmayer.com
xo Kate