I kind of hate conflict. With the exception of my anger issues with my kiddos, conflict tends to sideline me in a head-between-my-knees, breathe-into-a-paper-bag kind of way. It’s super-attractive and mature.

Which is why, when it’s over, part of me would opt to skip away with a “tra-la-la” brand of obliviousness. Maybe I would spring to the beach, where I could bury parts of my body in the warm sand. Preferably my head. read more