I’m attending my first tattoo convention tomorrow.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a working mom. A tattoo artist. A tattoo convention is a gathering of amazingly talented artists from around the globe, all grouping into one building for a period of three days to sling ink, learn, grow, and develop their craft.

Of course, in my head, it’s basically a bunch of people who are way better at my job than I am, huddled in large masses to point and laugh at how superior their…

Dear Pediatrician,



I wanted to say, first and foremost, thank you for taking care of my son's medical needs for his entire life. I did not attend medical school, and I'm really queasy when it comes to giving shots--*insert any and all ironic jokes here about the tattoo artist who hates needles*--so I'm incredibly grateful that you can do all those things and more.…

I blog about motherhood. But sometimes, my blog makes me a bad mother.

These observations came to me slowly over the course of several weeks. I've only been blogging for six months now, but my competitive drive to inflict my writing on the eyes of others, to showcase every funny story or present informative product review videos, sometimes clouds my ability to 'mom' appropriately.…

When I found out I was having a boy, I cried. Not beautiful, happy tears, no. I cried ugly, horrendous tears of mourning. I cried because I was not having a girl. That's right: my baby hadn't even left my uterus, and I was already the worst mother in the world.

Before you can comment on…