My daughter’s science assignment is to come up with analogies for the parts of a cell. My husband is helping her with ideas like a factory and an assembly line. I’m in the kitchen yelling my own suggestions: “gun runners, the Nazi regime, Read the rest of this entry
Hubs and I got separated at Walmart. When we found each other again, we both had on a giant bear head hat.
We’d come across the display separately, weighed the pros and cons of “who knows who’s had their head in this thing” vs. “gosh, it would be funny” and decided funny won. We saw each other, froze, and immediately cracked up. Read the rest of this entry
That’s what my youngest daughter said when she saw me spoiling my dinner. In fact, all three girls stopped conversation to stare at me in the kitchen, while dinner cooked.
“Why?” I asked her, innocently.
“Because then I can eat candy whenever I want, too.”
Yep, pays to be the mom.
This morning I found this taped to the girls’ bedroom door. Read the rest of this entry
Through the baby monitor, my husband and I heard Joseph wake up. I went to get him and said, “So, Joseph, what do you think of Daddy? He’s kind of funny looking, huh? But don’t worry. You get to leave when you’re 18. I’m stuck with him for life!”
My husband pushed the talk button on the receiving end Read the rest of this entry
Step 1. Get water ready.
Step 2. Change and throw away poopy diaper.
Step 3. Return from depositing poopy diaper in diaper pail five feet away only to discover baby has pooped again ALREADY!
Step 4. Repeat steps 2-4, as needed.
Step 5. Remove baby’s clothing and carry to bathroom.
Step 6. Remove diaper, praying there’s no more poop in it. (If not, continue to step 7. If so, repeat steps 2–4, as needed.)
Step 7. Gently slide baby into bath water and begin bathing.
Step 8. Try not to show irritation as second youngest child enters room to “help.” Read the rest of this entry
So, Little Man is one month old today. That leaves two months of the so-called “fourth trimester.”
I get it. I remember when my last child was a baby repeating to myself, Just get to three months. Things will be better after three months.
I’ve also heard this time referred to as the 90 Days of Darkness.
There are good days and bad days. Likewise with the nights. The hard part is, it’s never the same from one day or night to the next. Of course, if they were all bad, I’d not like that much at all. The point is, Read the rest of this entry