Heather Christena Schmidt

Mom, first * Writer, second * Misanthrope, always

Peegate

Heather Christena Schmidt

Peegate. If you are thinking that I’m talking about urine. Human waste. Pee. Pee pee. Wee wee. A scandal about wee wee of Watergate proportions. You would be correct. Today we had tennis lessons in the morning for the kids. After getting them there, my husband and I decided to run home and throw dinner …

Continue reading

I ask myself often: do I live in the ghetto? No, not really. I live in the suburbs. But as time has gone on, and we’ve moved from one nice area that turned out to be not-so-nice, to another, I’ve come to realize something: the suburbs may be synonymous with the ghetto. We moved on …

Continue reading

I had forgotten how many assholes live in my community. For the last year or so, we have been really swamped. I mean really. Between my father having hip replacement, and us staying with him during rehabilitation; the decision to move closer to him for seven months while we got his home ready to sell; …

Continue reading

I don’t even know why the fuck I called it a “long weekend.” It certainly was disastrous, but the concepts of weekend, or long weekend, are relatively foreign to me. My husband doesn’t get most federal holidays off. I mean, even when he does he’s usually answering text messages or emails or whatever about work …

Continue reading

I take it pretty offensively when people refer to me as “from California.” First and foremost, I don’t really like California. It’s nothing personal against anyone that does – I just don’t gel with it. Secondly, though, I’m just not from there. I’m from Chicago. Get over it. Just because I happen to live in …

Continue reading

I’m tempted to make this post just one word. Imagine it, you’d open it up and all it would read would be: Everyone. But that wouldn’t be entirely true. I like my father, he’s kind of cool when he’s not getting all preachy on me about how I’m going to hell and need to stop …

Continue reading