Category: Happy

  • The Girl in the Basement Apartment

    25 years ago today, I survived psychological torture and likely real physical danger.

    And the particulars don’t matter anymore; I am safe in February 10, 2026, not February 10, 2001.

    But I have to wonder what my neighbors of the time thought. They had to hear the screams; I screamed for my life that night. No one responded. It was a 55+ community probably not used to domestic violence issues.

    I don’t have to wonder about why it took that precise incident for me to decide to have the boyfriend of the time move out. It took precisely that sequence of events to upend our lives like that.

    And I don’t have to wonder because I know: I reclaimed his old room as my own, and rechristened the energy of that space the very day my Mommy came to clean up the trashed apartment he left in his wake on the last day of February when he moved out. 

    My Mommy brought my baby cat Cricket to live with me that day, and Cricket and I went on to live there a good while longer.

    And that day, that lowest of lows, was a turning point. It was the day I decided no man was worth my safety. No man, no matter how long I’d known him, was worth giving up my self-respect.

    I was done settling after that night.

    Thankfully, mostly good men followed that purging of my life.

    I am so grateful that I got to marry the best one.

    Jared is the one who has tolerated living in the light 24 hours a day for years on end.

    Jared is the one who answers the ghosts that aren’t there when I hear noises in the night.

    And Jared is the one who wants nothing from me other than my happiness. He doesn’t ask me to be anything other than real, he doesn’t ask me to perform for him. 

    He only asks me to accept his love as a gift. And that it is: a gift.

    And 25 years on: I know for a fact karma is real, as sad as that is to say in this particular instance.

    Tonight I will go to bed safe, having worked on a new jute bag for most of the day.

    And I will go to bed grateful for the new lease on life I got in 2001.

  • Mom Confession

    I have a confession to make:

    For most of the past 19 years or so, I have low-key resented all the boy blankets in the house.

    They messed with my decor sensibilities. Themed blankets that made little boys so very happy: Mario Bros., Spider-Man, Batman, Superman….. those blanket don’t very well go with a well-put together house.

    Still, little boys love that sort of thing, so I said not. a. single. word.

    But when given options for blankets in the main parts of the house, I’d choose other blankets every. last. time. for family activities, for pictures, for anything else that I could possibly think of an excuse for.

    Themed little boy blankets were for boys’ beds. That was pretty much it. Or if they dragged them to the main living areas themselves for some reason.

    But now, our boys don’t have themed blankets on their beds anymore. They prefer dark, stripes or basic slight plaid patterns.

    They prefer big boy bedding these days.

    So now, we have a supply of Spiderman and Mario Bros. blankets that don’t see a lot of love.

    Except when Jared ends up on the couch to sleep, which is often for reasons not related to our marriage one little bit.

    And Jared goes for the Mario Bros. blanket. Or the Spiderman blanket.

    And I’m not sure if he does it because it’s on the top of the pile, or if he does it because it reminds him of the little arms that used to reach up for him to pick up.

    And more and more lately, he leaves blankets, like this bunched up Mario Bros. Blanket in the photo, on the couch, for Abby or Trixie to lay on, saying “they were so comfy.”

    These blankets in no way, shape, or form fit to my decor sensibilities anymore in 2026 than they did in 2012.

    But you know what? I more and more say not one word about the out-of-place blankets left around.

    In fact, my very own pile of 5-6 blankets that I pile on top of my self in bed every night currently includes a Spiderman comforter.

    Because you know why? I’m aware that the little boy years are gone.

    Those years are gone, forever, for the Price household.

    And I am grateful for what brilliant, kind, hilarious, and gentle young men my children are growing up into.

    But now, keeping these blankets– using them while they are still fit to use– reminds me that those frantic, stressful, hilarious, fun, sleepy, beautiful years– those years mattered. Deeply.

    And I don’t know about Jared, but for myself– I sleep a little more soundly right now when a Spiderman blanket is keeping me warm.

  • This Young Man is a Future Grinnellian!!

    There are no words, but I’m going to write some anyway.

    In 2005, I moved to this little middle-of-nowhere-Iowa town named Grinnell, because Jared, my new husband, worked for them at the time.

    And in 2006, because Jared had been employed for Grinnell over two years at the time, Grinnell provided six weeks of paid paternity leave for Jared when I gave birth to our oldest son, Porter. At the time, Jared had just started his Master’s of Library Science program at the University of Iowa, and because Grinnell was very generous Jared was able to fully concentrate on only his schoolwork and Porter and me for the full first six weeks of Porter’s life. Porter was in the University of Iowa NICU for five and a half of those weeks, so it was very, very, very nice to not be without our normal income during that tumultuous time.

    And, Jared was in school to begin with at the University of Iowa because Grinnell College was paying for his Master’s program.

    And, when we received the bill for Porter’s NICU stay, we paid a grand total of $210 of Porter’s $500k medical bill thanks to Grinnell’s very generous medical benefits.

    And, our middle son, Liam, this year applied to Grinnell College for Early Decision 2.

    And not only did Liam get into Grinnell College…..he received so much in scholarships and other aid that it is going to cost less than 1/3 of what it would cost for housing and meals alone at UGA, even counting that he’d likely receive the HOPE and Zell Miller Scholarships.

    As I said, there are no words. I am so very beyond grateful, and very, very, very proud of and for Liam, and so very excited that Liam will have an opportunity to be a part of the very wonderfully diverse and vibrant culture that is Grinnell College.

  • Facing a Fear: I Did It

    I do not like dealing with my toenails. At all.

    When I was a little girl, my Mama had to hold me down to let them cut my toenails.

    It was bad. Really.

    The issue is compounded by the fact that with the scoliosis and spinal fusion, I actually can’t get to my toes super well at all. I can cut my own toenails as an adult, but it is not the easiest thing in the world.

    So when my big left toenail became fungal three years ago, I was filled with a sort of existential dread.

    And immediately, within the month, I went to a podiatrist, who promptly told me it didn’t look like a typical fungus and that I should come back in a year if it was giving me trouble.

    Three years later, it had mostly stopped growing the entirety of those three years and it was clear it was indeed a fungal infection.

    So last September, I faced it and went to the podiatrist, sure they would remove it that very day.

    Turns out podiatrist offices don’t work that way.

    She gave me some ketoconazole and told me to use it and Vicks and she didn’t know how long it would take to clear up; when I mentioned removal she said it was an option.

    Then in December when I mentioned the whole episode to my dermatologist at my appointment there, she said that the ketoconazole was going to do nothing, and gave me some weird enamel paint stuff that made my nail hard and told me to file it weekly.

    That stuff took away permanently any hope of actually cutting my toenails, and actually, for some reason the toenail started growing into the base of my toenail bed, backwards.

    And the backwards growth was what promptly sent me back to the podiatrist last week, begging to have the whole thing just taken off permanently.

    Which is no small thing, because of that whole fear of people messing with my toenails.

    And in fact, the fear is so bad that one of my greatest all-time primal fears ever has ever been someone prying off my toenails.

    So yesterday, as I sat just after having my left big toe injected with local anesthetic to deaden it, I posted this on Facebook:

    “So one of my most primal fears is having my toenails, specifically my big toenails, pried off. No joke, in the midst of the only time I had to be restrained due to psychiatric reasons, the delusion of the day was that they were restraining me to pry my big toenails off.

    So what am I sitting in the podiatrist’s chair waiting on? To have my left big toenail removed, permanently.

    It’s been fungal for at least 3 years but it has given me trouble with ingrown issues since I was a child.

    I am ecastatic it will be gone permanently, and not worried about the cosmetics, and I guess technically today is an achievement and exercise in facing one of my worst fears, all by myself since Jared is at work.

    And the dr says I made it through the worst part, which was the deadening injections.

    And I can go shopping for stuff for the weekend’s weather, too.

    I don’t normally keep my phone with me during Dr appts but she said it was fine for distracting myself.”

    The doctor said afterward, with my having told her about the fear, and told her nurse about the fear, beforehand, that she’d made sure she deadened it well and made sure to let it sit long enough to for sure be effective because she really didn’t want to have to come back in and poke me with a needle again after having hurt me with the procedure.

    But sure enough, the procedure itself took like 5 minutes, maybe 10 max, and it was not bad at all. I took a photo I will spare the world after, in fact– you know, with photography being my coping mechanism for everything and all– of the exposed toe bed before it got wrapped up in the bandage post procedure. I’d taken a photo of it before the procedure started, too, for posterity.

    And pretty much the rest of my whole morning and yesterday during the day was set up for success, because I’d done the very thing I was afraid of most as a child, probably. And that’s saying something considering they cut me open on front and back and messed with my innards in a very dramatic fashion for that scoliosis surgery.

  • Randomness

    You know what? I sure have missed writing.

    Also, randomness: I’m pretty darn good at Russian on Duolingo. Apparently there were hidden subconscious benefits to spending a good amount of time in my toddler years in a college language lab, as Russian, Greek, and Spanish are all fairly intuitive in addition to the French I did actually study.

    And, there’s a new job to get ready for, and I am glad.

    And it’s nearly tax season, and I am glad about that, too.

    But, it’s bedtime. And with said job on the horizon, routine is becoming super-duper important.

    And apparently my back is really messed up. I don’t know why my spine is a corkscrew, but it is.

    Poor Abby has to have a dental on February 2; she has an infection in her mouth and will have to have several teeth pulled too. I guess that comes from us not brushing her teeth– sorry girl. She’s been a trooper but we finally got her to the vet today. I am so thankful my therapy dog only has to have a dental and it was nothing worse to worry about. I was afraid she had kidney issues.

    Aside from the trip to the vet, it was a good day.

    I’m thankful to be getting back into the headspace that I can concentrate on writing. It’s been a long winter and I am grateful that the fictionalized memoir is still a project on the horizon. It may take me a decade to write, but will be well-worth it.