Adventures In Motherhood

The security light brightened our porch as I mounted the front steps. It was now dark by 4:00pm, a typical dreary December in Portland. I spied the elusive lunchbox open on the wicker chair. I was not surprised he forgot to unpack it in the kitchen. At least it's in the vicinity of our house! It took the entire semester and a bit of mom nagging for my 14-year-old son to bring the frickin lunchbox home before winter break. Hallelujah! There is hope for this child. Holy hell! Is that a banana slug? Stepping closer I wondered how a slug had climbed inside the lunchbox with lightning speed. It's the Pacific Northwest and during the rainy season slugs are everywhere. Slugs sliming the pavement meet death by foot traffic, while slugs nestled on trees disguise themselves in the thick forest canopy. I once picked this slug from my carpeted stairs thinking it was sock lint: My husband was feeding the dogs yesterday when I spotted this little beauty sliming his slippers! ...

Porn Hub dot com. I was blindsided by the images I found searching my web browser history. We had not used protection! The graphic nature of the moving ads alone burned my retinas with disproportionate images that hardly made physical sense. Logging into my computer I found the first clue. A computer hastily closed raised my suspicion. My intuition to search its web browser was a virtual a gold mine. December 28th, for an entire six minutes someone watched 'Dirty Little Stepsister'. Who knew 'Walking the Dog' was as perverse as Spanking the Monkey or Choking the Chicken? On November 8th, I found an explicit title that made my jaw hit the floor. The history in between deleted, thanks to my stealthy Christmas shopping savvy, always erasing my purchases for snooping teens, along with my red-hot trail of evidence. How much porn had been digested by virgin eyes? Sick to my stomach, I screamed for my husband upstairs. I knew it wasn't him. A computer expert woul...