Author: Jaye Watson


My husband and I screwed up so badly last weekend that we didn’t even try to blame each other. Imagine that, a giant screw up in which neither spouse points the finger at the other. Yep, that’s how obviously awful

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The Break Up

There were signs I should have noticed. That’s¬†always the way with hindsight. He was unhappy. Complaining. Even angry. I still didn’t think my husband would do it, even though he’d been threatening to do it for months. I mean, who

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Gold Medal Mama

My after work snack the other day was smoked salmon on thin, golden toasted bread sprinkled with just the right amount of capers and minced red onion. Yesterday, I devoured homemade chicken salad, hand picked from a roasted chicken that

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Black and Blue

A few years into my journalism career, I became friends with a fellow reporter. When you’re young in the business, small town newsrooms are makeshift college campuses, everyone living on next to nothing paychecks, far from home, pooling their resources

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How’s your Monday? I spent mine talking about the final text messages a young man sent his mother from inside Pulse night club in Orlando. He typed out ‘Mommy’ in his pleas for help. I wanted to walk off the

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Ol’ Blue

Our house is in mourning. My son and daughter have come to me separately, in tears. “I don’t want her to go. Why does she have to go?” I explain the circle of life. I tell them nothing lasts forever.

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Idiot Girl

When you have a job in the public eye, especially one on live television, people see what you do. I’m intentionally stating the obvious. If you screw up, it’s not between you and your co-workers — it’s likely to wind

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Red Light Wake Up Call

“We’re never going to get there and I’m going to be late again. Why aren’t we moving?” He is wedged into my small backseat, his lanky, toothpick frame bulging with padding and hard plates beneath his hockey jersey. I am

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Up and Away

So sleepy. Oh so sleepy. The warmth of the sun is lulling me into a front seat stupor. I slow blink, reveling in the extra long red light. Why do they drink so much milk? I don’t even see them

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Thanks, Easter Bunny

Murphy’s Law of parenthood is that approximately 17 seconds after you sit down with your Friday night cocktail in hand, your ten year old will appear on the patio, lower lip trembling. “Johnny said it’s your parents. The Easter Bunny..he

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Father Christmas

I was home from college for Christmas. We were gathered around the table, my freshman 15 pounds packed onto my 18 year old frame. I shoveled in my mother’s famous chicken divan, so happy to be in my house, eating

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7 Awesome Things About Getting Old

My husband and I settled in for a Saturday night movie at home, some sci fi flick that had received good reviews. Within two minutes of the movie starting, I grabbed the remote and hit the button to turn on

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A Thanksgiving Stuffed with Guilt

I probably shouldn’t have said it. I just blurted it out when I realized he wasn’t there. My 8 year old had handed me a Thanksgiving card she made for us at school. It had the feathers glued to the

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On 8 point bucks and Paris

It might have been my husband’s fault. Or mine. Either way, the cacophony of rushing out of the house early on a Saturday morning meant we had forgotten some needed hockey gear. I selfishly volunteered to go home to get

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Lip Service

I busted my son in church yesterday. He’s 10 years old. An altar server. A good kid. But Catholicism isn’t easy. There are lots of prayers and lots of versions of those prayers to memorize, and he’s still learning them.

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