Posts by: Christina-Marie

Christina-Marie Wright is the manic mother of seven, wife to a real estate professional and political activist (the same guy—Mr. Wright) and author of the hilarious "Everything I Need to Know About Motherhood I Learned from Animal House," available on Amazon. After giving birth to one child—just to see if her body worked—she picked up four full-time stepchildren and two adopted children along her zigzagging path to (near) self-actualization. Her family isn’t “blended.” It’s “pureed.” That frothy blend of maternal mayhem includes: Princess (stepdaughter, b. 1990, Veterinary Medicine student), The Dude (stepson, b. 1993, employed, living on his own), Pockets (bio son, b. 1994, attending college), Pepper (stepdaughter, b. 1996, high school diva), GirlWonder (stepdaughter, b. 1997, middle school over-achiever), Curlytop (adopted daughter, b. 2005, special needs child allergic to Red Dye 40) and Snugglebug (adopted daughter, b. 2006, diagnosed Sensory Processing Dysfunction, also allergic to Red Dye 40). A vegan for over 15 years, and a Washington state native, Christina-Marie makes her home along the Columbia River, and the view from her living room is better than yours. She's also a sexual health consultant, and absolutely capable of teaching you how to find your G-spot. You can find Christina-Marie hanging out with a snifter of Southern Comfort at TheGonzoMama.com and SexyVeganMama.com.

Yours, Mine and Theirs: What Autism Looks Like… Really

I read through the test results, which may as well have been written in Japanese, for all I got out of the therapy-speak and scoring, but there… under “Conclusion”… there was what I’ve known, all along.

My daughter, Curlytop, is one of many, many people in the world who reside within the Autism Spectrum.

God, I was so relieved to finally have an accurate diagnosis! I was so ready to fax off the results to the misdiagnosis-giving-ADHD-zealots, and reiterate my desire that their bunk label find a home where the sun doesn’t shine! I mean, I’m no proctologist, but I’m pretty sure I know where to put that faulty diagnosis. I was so grateful to be on the road to accessing more services, and getting more answers! I was Supermom, on a quad-shot mocha, ready to rock that shit!

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: I Need Therapy for My Therapy

You’ll rarely hear me complain about being a special needs mom, but I’m beginning to think I need therapy to help me cope with our therapy schedule.

Currently, we are doing four sessions of speech therapy for Curlytop and Snugglebug each week, one to three occupational therapy sessions for Curlytop, one to two behavioral therapy sessions, and we’re looking at adding some more supportive appointments in, because Snugglebug was just diagnosed with Dyslexia, and Curlytop is in the middle of Autism assessments and has been evaluated and found to need Vision Therapy.

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: Motherhood Ruined my Jams

My new car has satellite radio, y’all. This is a new, exciting, grown-up thing for me.

Initially, I was in love with the idea of “all 80s, all the time,” just one click away from “badass hits of the 90s,” but reviving the music of my youth isn’t the walk down memory lane I’d hoped for.

How the hell did this filth become the anthems of my youth?! Looking back on my fave songs from adolescence and teendom, I don’t know how my mother restrained herself from burning my Walkman. Is it possible becoming a mother, myself, has made me *gasp* scrutinize the lyrics of songs I once belted out, with abandon?

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: Fifty Shades of ‘Meh’

So, there’s a movie coming out this weekend. 50 Shades of Something? A lot of my clients are really excited about it, and as a sexual health educator and purveyor of intimacy-enhancing items, I won’t say it’s been bad for business. What I will say is… I don’t see the point.

As you may know, the movie is based upon a trilogy of books which are — literarily speaking — a shining example of mediocrity. As a writer, they were painful to read. As a busy mommy, frankly, I found them yawn-worthy.

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Yours Mine and Theirs: Oh, the Emptiness…

It started in the bathroom. Upon waking I had to pee so bad, I was having third trimester flashbacks. Maybe it was too much caffeine, or maybe it was the last glass of wine before bed, but I had to go.

The sweet relief of release was tainted by the empty toilet paper roll staring back at me from the spindle. No back-up rolls, either. Ugh. Thankfully, I’ve trained hard for the Drip-Dry event of the Porcelain Olympics, and managed a near-perfect score, though it was early enough in the morning that I didn’t have any judges present. (The kids wouldn’t wake for another 30 minutes.)

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: Sorry I’m Not Sorry My Kid Didn’t Get Her Homework Done

Dear Third Grade Classroom Teacher:

Sorry I’m not sorry Curlytop didn’t get her homework packet done. I know your weekly schedule is probably very busy, and finding time to make sure my daughter is completing her assigned work is probably pretty stressful. To add to your chaos level, you happen have the distinct misfortune of having me as one of your classroom parents.

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Yours, Mine & Theirs: Caution, Slippery When Wet

In my professional role as a sexual health educator, I’m perhaps most notoriously known for being a lubricant Nazi. I’ve been known to take women from protests of, “Girl, I don’t need lube! I’m telling you, a river runs through it, if you know what I’m saying,” to paranoid exclamations of, “My God… Everything I thought I knew has been a lie!”

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: Pimp My Mom Ride

Dear Pimp My Mom Ride:

You may have seen me driving around town. That 20-year-old SUV with “WASH ME” etched into the quarter-inch of dirt and caked mud (thanks, kids)? Yeah, that was me.

Should any of my friends contact you to say my vehicle needs an overhaul (it does!), I’d appreciate it if you don’t let them know we’ve been in touch. I know loved ones always have suggestions as to what they think the vehicle owner would like, but I have some very specific needs, so if your producers could sort of nudge my peeps in the right direction, that would be awesome.

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: My Summer F*&# It List

School is ready to release for the summer, and Pinterest tells me all the good mothers of the world are looking forward to accomplishing five hundred things on their “Summer Bucket Lists” while enrolling their precious progeny in day camps, sports clinics, adventure learning sessions, and spending invaluable “quality downtime” as a family.

Um… yeah. That’s not exactly my plan for the summer. I’ve had to abandon the idea of a Summer Bucket List for something a little more attainable, thereby minimizing opportunities for my children to point out my abject failure.

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Yours, Mine and Theirs: I’m Ready… Or Not!

I had the good fortune to see my 39th birthday last month. Yep. This year will be the last time I’ll be able to say, with a smile and straight face, “I’m only 39!”

Am I ready to turn 40? Not really. I don’t feel 40. Except my feet. My feet feel every single day of 60. They’ve logged a lot of miles, hops and bounces — walking down to the old swimming hole every day of every summer (I’m almost certain it was uphill, both ways) between the ages of nine and 13, running cross country and track at 14 and 15, cheering on a winning high school football team at 16 and 17, waiting tables at 18, walking the floors in the middle of the night with an inconsolable newborn at 19, waiting more tables from 21 to 26, pushing strollers and holding hands with seven different children for so, so many years… My feet are old.

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