Okay, everyone. It’s been one week since the T or F contest. Nobody got every question right, but three people only missed one. I could just let them try my bonus round, but if they still miss them, it will get us no where. Plus, what if someone who only missed two of the original 5 gets the two bonus questions right, catapulting that person into the lead, possibly the win? Oh, the suspense! The drama!
So, not to exclude anyone from participating, you are all welcome to try these two bonus questions. After this, I will declare a winner, even it means drawing one from a hat, or letting my four-year-old choose which username she likes best. It will be something highly scientific like that.
If anyone is joining us for the first time and would like to participate in a chance to win an autographed copy of my co-authored book, 101 Tips for a Happier Marriage, answer these five T/F questions as well.
Everyone else: on to the tie breaker! Read the rest of this entry
I will mention that two blog awards were conferred upon me. Not since the days of this blog’s youth, have I received blog awards, so, for old time’s sake, and so I can display them on the sidebar and pretend it impresses people, I will gratefully acknowledge that Naptimethoughts.com sent these two my way. I like when they come as a package deal. It saves time.
There are always rules for these things, which are often disregarded or changed at the discretion of the awardee. First, I have to acknowledge who gave me the awards. Done!
Next, I’m supposed to say some stuff about myself. As Naptimethoughts put it so well: “Make up some crap about yourself.
10 5 things that are entirely false, but you TOTALLY wish they were true.” I’m pretty sure that when I got my first blog award probably three years ago, lying wasn’t encouraged, but maybe these things have been floating around for so long there’s nothing new to say. P.S. Changing it from 10 to 5 was my contribution for future blog generations. You’re welcome, kids.
I’m also going to change things up a bit here. Read the rest of this entry
I was not disappointed when I found out that my third child was yet another female. Hooray! Once again I dodged the bullet of being sprayed during diaper changes and of having to scrub the bathroom floor after the growing child’s every use!
There was more I thought I was avoiding: what my mother calls “juvenile boy humor,” a.k.a. fart and burp jokes. Yet, apparently, at least in this house, that sort of entertaining is genderless. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to admonish my children, “Stop talking about burps and gas! You’re not boys!” (My children have yet to learn the word “fart,” thank you very much.)
They just grin and run off, only to make the same scenario play out another day.
On one such occasion, after reprimanding them yet again, I turned to my husband and shook my head in exasperation. He smiled and said: Read the rest of this entry
Perhaps they’re just pleased that I’m finally washing all those clothes.
Here’s my laundry method. There’s a reason I’m spelling it out for you. Wait for iiiiiiiittttt!
1. Procrastinate until laundry basket is full to overflowing.
2. Pick up scattered articles of clothing that have fallen off the laundry heap and shove them back in the basket.
3. Heft the load to the washing machine.
4. Open washing machine…speed up steps here because you, presumably already know how to do laundry, and if not, you probably shouldn’t really be learning from me.
5. After I pour in the detergent, I set aside some large article of clothing, or, as in today’s example, a baby blanket, and put the detergent cup upside down on said article to drain out more of the good stuff while I fill the washer.
6. Fill the washer.
7. Lift up-turned detergent cup so as to toss in last item.
8. If you’re lucky, you will find that the laundry gods are smiling upon you: Read the rest of this entry
This is the title of a book I’m reading by comedian Jim Gaffigan. It’s pretty funny. I recommend it for all you parents out there. Lots to relate to. For me it’s him talking about how pale he and his children are. I totally get that. He even graced his book with a picture of himself in his swim shirt. I get that too.
My four-year-old has a full-body swimsuit. It’s actually called a rash guard–what surfers wear to avoid getting a rash from contact with their board. Why they make these in size 4 I’ll never understand. I can’t exactly picture my little girl hanging 10. But it was in the hand-me-down bag from another family, and since I’m cheap, I kept it. Plus, since two-thirds of my children are redheads, all the skin coverage they can get is for the better. In case you’ve never noticed, red hair=white skin. Look up pictures of your favorite red-headed actress and you’ll see what I mean.
The other third of my children may actually have been switched at birth. I seriously suspect this because she is capable of tanning. However, for myself (my mom is a redhead and I got her skin pigmentation but not the tell-tale excuse of the gorgeous red hair. Thanks for only passing on the lame genes, Mom!) and those two redheads of mine, the sun is our enemy. Sadly, I live in San Diego county, only a few miles from the coast; therefore, beach=fun fun happy fun time for children, and arch-nemesis for me. At least I’ve got my youngest mostly covered.
Of course wearing a rash guard anywhere other than the lower half of the West Coast or Hawaii just looks weird. This past summer we were in Ohio at a lake. I suddenly, for the first time, felt very self-conscious about my daughter’s wardrobe. “What a cute swimsuit,” someone said. “Is she Amish?” Read the rest of this entry
As the expression goes, when it rains it pours, which is ironic considering we’re in a severe drought and heat wave here in So Cal.
Anyhow, it’s like our house is falling apart. Last week there was an electrician and an AC guy here. Yesterday I had a linoleum guy come a-calling. Today was a banner day–a plumber and two more AC guys.
I commented to my husband that I had gentlemen callers in and out of here all day like I’m running a brothel. Then I pointed out that in a day or two the linoleum guy and the plumber would be back for a second round.
I tried to put on my best “seductive” pose, (I use that term very loosely–ah, pun!) but it backfired. Read the rest of this entry
My husband could attest to just how obnoxious I can be when I’m full of my own cleverness. I tell you, no one can laugh at my jokes the way I can. I had a real doozy last night that I woouuuuuld share, but it would probably offend some people.
Instead, let me relay to you the opening lines of a thank you card I just constructed in response to something that happened the last weekend of July. Read the rest of this entry