Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

I want you to know that sometimes I am kinda funny looking.

Y'know? You’ll wonder how parents let ourselves get so … uncool. Our hair gets funny. We get fat. We lose hair. We wear clothes from three decades back.

People usually find the decade they feel most attractive in and stay there. 

But cut me and your dad some slack. I promise that we will try hard to not be the elastic waist duo. Your father is already bragging that you will NEVER see him lose his muscular build. I mean, he is a professional trainer. And he already looks good with a bald head, so he’s got the makings of a cool old dude.

I, on the other hand, tend to go a little off the deep end with the clothes sometimes. I go through periods of normalcy and then OH LORD. I have been mistaken for homeless and mistaken for a fashion stylist, all on the same day. 

But even if I was perfect, somebody would have something bad to say about me or your dad. You kids are mean. So when it happens, don’t worry about it. Try to stay calm and shrug it off, or else they will use my Marni heels against you for the rest of your life. 

But if you feel like returning fire? Put on the straightest face you can muster and try:

That’s funny. Your dad said she’s gorgeous.

That kid’ll be wondering about that comment until he’s 35.

I want you to wait on body mods.