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My life motto is basically my username: This And That — because that’s exactly how my days go. I wake up and immediately start doing this, then someone screams for that, then the dog throws up on this, and suddenly I’m late for that. I’m basically the unpaid manager of a circus where none of the performers listen and all of them require snacks to function.I have three kids:A 16‑year‑old who treats me like a Wi‑Fi router: only acknowledges my existence when something isn’t workingAn 11‑year‑old who asks more questions than the IRSAnd a 4‑year‑old who runs the household like a tiny, glitter‑covered dictator with zero regard for my sanityBetween Cub Scouts, science teams, doctor appointments, and the daily scavenger hunt for shoes, I realized I needed adult interaction before I started trauma‑dumping on the cashier at Target. So I started selling on WhatNot — because if I’m going to talk nonstop, I might as well talk to people who voluntarily clicked into my chaos.Now, the other half of my name — Trisomy9p — comes from my daughter’s diagnosis. March is Trisomy 9 awareness month, especially March 9th, also known as “International Day of Googling ‘What Is Trisomy 9?’”My daughter is pint‑sized but built like a Marvel origin story. One working kidney, stage 1 kidney disease, developmental delays, physical delays — and still somehow has the energy of a raccoon that found a Red Bull. She’s tiny, but her personality is Costco‑sized. She wakes up every day ready to fight, sass, charm, and dominate. Honestly, she’s stronger than all of us combined, and she knows it. She’s basically a fun‑sized superhero with the attitude of someone who knows she’s the main character.Meanwhile, I’m over here reheating the same cup of coffee for the fourth time, trying to remember if I already did something or just thought about doing it.
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