Stephanie Klein Greek Tragedy

My mother bought the home in which I was raised because she liked the wallpaper in the bathroom. They’re too small to be deal-breakers, and they’d never make any cockamamie list you could ever dream up in a diary, but…

Lucas puked. That’s where it began. In his bed, the middle of the night. Changing PJs, stripping the bed, two loads of laundry. More the next day. Then he recovered. Next night the bucket switched sides after Abigail ralphed all…

My younger sister Lea flew up from Florida to stay with us for a few days. Before that, my dear friend Shannan and her family flew from Austin, Texas for a quick visit. We’ve been busy, busting through Manhattan, breezing…

“You’ve got a problem,” Phil said with the only tone one can use whilst making an accusation. Whether it was whispered or barked, there it was, judgment day in our kitchen, and once again, I was up for review.
I…

Kreplach hit the fan a few Passovers ago. Because ceiling fans are ugly and because triangular noodles filled with chopped meat are a no-go when it comes to keeping kosher for Passover, no, nothing actually hit the fan, but I…

Amazon food? I did not order anything from Amazon. Yet, there was the UPS guy, white legs in brown shorts, trailing off toward his truck. Did I accidentally order the Green Coffee Bean Extract I was eying? I knifed open…

I pulled it out of a garbage bag in my father’s basement. At least half of our memories are hidden beneath beds or boxed into basements, even if the storage is tucked in a part of our brain that makes…

Behind a curtain that provided a false sense of privacy, I was plugged up to a hospital-grade breast pump. In the lactation room of Saint David’s Hospital in Austin, TX, I tried not to look. The consultants told me not…