Spoiler: Jake Ryan Doesn’t Show Up

Dear 18 Year-Old Christen,

First of all, good job with the sunscreen. KEEP IT UP. You won’t regret that and all the girls who showed up to prom tan look like handbags now.

I feel like I need to quickly assure you that your life is going to be great. It looks almost completely different than what you’re imagining right now (some of your timelines and expectations are, to be blunt, fucking bonkers) but it’s really the best and you are happier than you thought you would be. You go through some wild stuff to get to this point, but it’s worth it.

I don’t want to give too much away, but please, please listen to your instincts when it comes to…pretty much everything. People are going to tell you you’re doing a lot of things “wrong” and it’s tempting to listen to them. But your path and your life are different from anyone else’s. Don’t settle and don’t talk yourself into doing what everyone thinks would be best. They may seem like they have it all figured out, and although they mean well, they have their own shit to figure out and are putting their neuroses on you. You’re doing just great and every mistake you make leads to this life you’re living right now.

You could stand to drink more water, though. Maybe work on that a little.

Happy Birthday!


38 Year-Old Christen

PS You’re going to wake up this morning with a zit. DUDE I KNOW.


Math. Problems.

Number of People in the Last Six Days Who Have Asked Me About My Reproductive Plans/Status in the Last Six Days: 4

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband: 0

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband’s Boss: 1

Number of People Who Wanted To Know What the Damn Problem Is: 3

Of Those People, The Number That Were My Husband’s Boss: 0, Blessedly

Number of People in the Last Six Days Who Have Called Me “Weird” or “Creepy” for Saying I Do Enjoy Children, Despite Not Being a Mother: 1

Number of Times in the Last Six Days I’ve Been Tempted to Bail on Society Because, Seriously, This is Bullshit: Lost Count

Advice From Me to You

In the event that you find yourself helping out at a 10 year old boy’s birthday party:

  • Watching a documentary series on the American mafia will absolutely get you in the right frame of mind. I was in a “take no shit” mood the moment I stepped on the scene and those little animals could sense I had zero qualms about smashing any of their faces into a wall if they disrespected me.
  • Febreeze will help the smell of FEET that your car will instantly absorb after five minutes of three rain-dampened, stinky little boys chilling in the backseat. Or you can set fire to the car*. Whichever is more convenient.
  • Beer. Just… ugh, who even cares? It’s not like they’ve listened to you all night. They wouldn’t notice if you started shooting up.
  • Whose idea was it to take these heathens bowling? A nice idea in theory, to be sure: get them out of the house, pizza, a structured activity that will ideally wear them out. On the other hand: we just handed them weapons to fling at each other. Aces.
  • Take a minute to look at that big kid. He’s playing and joking around with his friends and looking so grown-up. When did he get so damn funny? Soon he won’t want or need you at his party. Sit back and watch him laugh and be the very best little guy you could have hoped for.

You’re welcome.


*AFTER the kids have exited the vehicle. I’m not a monster.

Status Update

  • Remember a week ago when I declared that I was going to prioritize self-care? The very next day, due to a series of unfortunately scheduled meetings and also some poor planning on my part, I skipped breakfast AND lunch and was a shaky, weak mess by the time I dragged my exhausted ass home. I almost fell over while trying to pour myself some juice (“DRINK YER JOOCE, SHELBY”) and Ed had to throw some crackers at me while he made dinner, which I promptly wolfed down.
  • I did a better job the rest of the week.
  • No, really! I have limited myself to one cup of coffee in the morning, water throughout the day, and no booze. And food! I’m also chugging Emergen-C because apparently there are at least three sick people in this office on any given day.
  • Ed left town for work on Friday and it has been non-stop fun and excitement for days. I have rearranged the living and dining rooms, cleaned out the refrigerator, reorganized Ed’s side of the closet, and spent a glorious afternoon at The Container Store, but managed to restrain myself when it came to purchasing items. This evening I plan to mop the kitchen floor. One person’s cocaine-fueled orgy is another’s weekend of nesting and cleaning.
  • I’m generally indifferent to celebrity deaths and the like, but David Bowie’s passing really hit me. One of the things I’ve always appreciated about my parents was that they shared their musical tastes with me and made sure that I had exposure to various genres and didn’t grow up on a strict diet of New Kids on the Block and Milli Vanilli. I loved a lot of what we listened to together, but Bowie is probably the one artist I still gravitate towards regularly. I saw him in concert 20 years ago (when I tell my 30 year-old coworkers that, they look at me like I just announced I had a pet pterodactyl growing up) and while it was all new material and a little more emo than what I typically enjoy, there was no denying he put on a great show.

Happy New Year, Ya Filthy Animals

We’re still allowed to wish people a happy new year, right? I figure you have a week and then it’s just weird.

I’m not a big “new year, new me!” person but I am relishing this feeling of a fresh start. While wearing real pants was a bit of a shock to the system (Christen + Leggings 4Eva), being back at work is actually comforting. I crushed it today and have been whipping projects into shape. I spent much of last week getting shit together at home although there’s still work to be done. But the general feeling that everything is chaotic and overwhelming has passed. There’s such pressure to hit the ground running with a renewed sense of energy and as much as I want to – and can be – peppy and hyper-efficient, there’s something to be said for taking it easy on myself. Luckily everyone around me is dragging ass right now so I look like the Energizer Bunny by comparison. Small victories!

Speaking of “works in progress,” I am committing to some better self-care in the coming months because I’m useless to everyone around me if I’m a ball of anxiety constantly on the verge of flipping out. It’s not fair to anyone and it’s not a healthy, happy way to live. I’m not naive enough to think I can be happy at all times, but there’s a better ratio than the one I’m currently living. I know that much.

It’s also not entirely fair for me to tell 2015 to fuck off because, while the last quarter or so was a dumpster fire, much of the year was really lovely. Also, we saw The Force Awakens which reinforced my love of Han Solo (he and Captain von Trapp are two of my first crushes which says A LOT about my dating history, which could also be classified as a dumpster fire from 1994 to, oh, 2009) and any year where we get some sweet, sweet Star Wars action is a good one.