Every single time I come home for a few days I end up rifling through my bedroom (now my dad's office) closet in search of...I don't know, exactly. Some amazing piece leftover from my high school years that I somehow forgot about, and somehow escaped what happened to my parents after they read The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up. I do this every time I come home, despite the fact that were there anything there, I would have found it by now (as my closet is located in New York City, and is not exactly what you'd consider "spacious"). And every time, all I find are the same four things. None of them are the kinds of pieces I'd ever even consider wearing again, but all of them are pieces that - for various reasons - I've never let go of. And so my childhood closet is where they stay.

First, here is my junior-year prom dress, worn to beguile and enchant my junior-year boyfriend, Alex (who bore a striking resemblance to Seann William Scott, but only in Dude, Where's My Car). I designed it - by which I mean drew it and sourced fabric for it, and then found hired someone to sew it for me, but still: I think that's sort of neat. Unfortunately, this self-designed dress also looks exactly what Buffy the Vampire Slayer would have worn to her prom, accessorized with a bunch of butterfly clips.

"Screen time" in our house has officially become a problem. We restrict it to what feels, to me, like a normal-ish amount - half an hour of TV at night, maybe an hour of educational-type computer games over the course of the day, and a half an hour of garbage (Angry Birds, etc) - but it's getting to the point where we're talking about (and fighting about) iPads and phones and TV shows upwards of twenty times a day.

This is not tenable. Not only because it's making me crazy, but also because while I'm generally of the opinion that all this "screens are the devil"-speak doesn't take into account the enormous educational benefits associated with them (seriously, YouTube just taught my five-year-old the concept of photosynthesis, and he can now explain it better than either of his parents), I hate the fact that they've become the default, the thing we reach for when our kids are fighting or tired or just bored. It's such a quick and easy solution, but it's also not exactly teaching our kids to look to the world around them to find fun.

The other day a friend of mine brought up the concept of a Bored Jar, and it's completely brilliant. (Apparently it's also a thing that parents everywhere - or at least parents on Pinterest - know about, but it's new to me, so I figured it may be new to you, too.) You literally just fill a jar with a zillion pieces of paper with activities written on them (popsicle sticks work especially well), and every time your kid comes to you and says "UGH I'M BORED," you're all "Here you go." I filled ours with a mix of chores, activities that I thought would be a little out-of-the-box for our kids, and a bunch of things I knew they'd just love ("watch your favorite movie," etc).

Sometimes I wonder whether those of you who read here every day can tell when something's up with me; whether I seem distant or grumpy or just "off" somehow. (...Or maybe I'm better at faking it than I suspect I am? Probably not.) Anyway, if you've noticed anything of that sort these past few days, here's what's going on:

Juuuuuuust a reminder that The Big Fat Activity Book For Pregnant People is available for preorder. We also recently went live on IG, so make sure to follow @bigactivitybook for updates on our book tour (coming to the NYC area in late April!) and pictures of surprised cats.

During my last office job my primary goal was to avoid human interaction as much as possible, so I steered wayyyyy clear of the candy dish. This is fascinating, though. (The Hidden Life of the Office Candy Dish, via Washington Post.)

Kendrick bought me my dream earrings for Christmas, and one of them fell out and I can't find it anywhere. I'm just telling you this in case you want to give me a virtual hug.

Many years ago - shortly after September 11, I think - I had a conversation with my dad that had something to do with politics and world affairs (super specific, I know). He was lamenting how my generation wasn't politically active; how we "didn't care" like his generation did.

I don't know about you, but here's what's always happened to me when someone starts talking like this: I feel like I'm being lectured and like any contributions I might make to the conversation will fall on deaf ears, and so I stop listening. What my father was saying felt like judgment; like a statement of superiority ("our generation cared...yours, not so much"). And while I don't think what he was saying was unfounded or even necessarily wrong - people who are now in their thirties largely went through their formative years during a time of (relative) prosperity and political calm, which is not the kind of environment that typically breeds vast numbers of revolutionaries - it certainly didn't make me go, "Wait! You're right! SIGN ME UP!"

The conversation made feel guilty, and judged, and irritated. And a person who feels guilty and judged and irritated tends not to be especially inspired to join the community that's making them feel this way.