Mary McHenry PhotographyI’m a mother of two from Oakland, CA who hates mushrooms. My ears aren’t pierced. Well, they were once, but those holes closed up decades ago. My mother died of pancreatic cancer. Women who’ve had natural childbirth are my heroes. I’ve never seen Star Wars. I’ve been a VP, toy reviewer, CNN producer, and state park employee. My favorite holiday is July 4th. I love surprises, resist change, and can’t tolerate wimpyness. I adore old women. I’ve had migraines that’ve put my right eye out of commission for weeks at a time. I once ate a 24-course meal. I’ve never competed in the Olympics. I went to cooking school to become a pastry chef, then decided against it. I’ve chatted with Mick Jagger. I loved high school and was unimpressed with college. My father’s name is Ferdinand. Altogether I’ve taken 13 years of French. I’ve never had a perm. I’ve lived in Rhode Island, Ohio, Massachusetts, D.C., New York, Georgia, California, France, and England. In a life riddled with happiness, motherhood has brought me overwhelming joy. Some people think I have nice hands. I once spent a wild night out with the White House Secret Service. Sometimes I want to eat my children. I don’t know how to follow a football game. My husband spent the better part of his career at Sports Illustrated. If I were President coconut-flavored rum would cool. I pronounce ‘aunt’ AHHHnt and ‘apricot’ with a short ‘a.’ Cats scare me. I have a terrible memory. The greatest compliment I’ve ever gotten is that my daughter Kate looks like me. I can dish it out but I can’t take it. Math Game Day in fourth grade gave me a stomachache. My father is afraid of heights and peach fuzz. A psychic told me I was a famous ballerina in a past life. I skipped having a first marriage and got a brilliant trophy husband at age 37. I’ve never had braces. For a made-for-TV movie I played a woman who choked while eating in a restaurant. Parades often make me cry with joy. If I had a hammer, I most certainly wouldn’t hammer in the morning. The love I have for my husband and daughters can best be described as rabid. I’m an obsessive yard saler and recovering packrat. My super powers are the ability to sleep anywhere and parallel parking. I’m the youngest of four girls. I disagree with the way the word ‘segue’ is spelled. I didn’t make a million dollars before turning 30. I look dead in both yellow and light gray. I once stuck a pussy willow up my nose. Seeing a person carrying a box of pizza always delights me. I think people who put lines through their sevens are pretentious. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a high school marching band to play at my funeral. I know how to say the following things in Polish: ‘underwear,’ ‘Grandma,’ ‘ass,’ and ‘I’m going to throw up.’ I’m a wannabe Jew. If it weren’t for house cleaners, I’d get around to changing my sheets as often as frat boys do. My best piece of financial advice is to pay for babysitting now instead of marriage counseling later. I’m a hardcore recycler. My greatest life’s work has been ridding myself of a Rhode Island accent. It wasn’t until my mother was gone and I had kids of my own that I realized I shared her knack for impeccable laundry. I can’t be inside on sunny days. I felt betrayed after college when the hippie boys cut their hair to get jobs at investment banks. I’m not even a little bit country. My last meal would include a Del’s Lemonade.

Contact Me
If after all this you’d like to contact me, that’d be swell. Email me at kristen at motherloadblog dot com. (My husband/IT Guy told me to spell out my email address that way so something I think he called “spam bots” don’t make off with it and start sending me emails about penis enlargement treatments and how I can get rich working from home. I already make millions working from home, and I’ve got a HUGE dick.)

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