Archive
Every morning, when I walk in to free my little twinkies from their baby prison, I open the door and put on an expression like I am absolutely shocked to see them there.
“My men!” I exclaim. “My men are here! I am so glad to see my man-boys!”
I gasp. I swoon. I tell them I am so lucky to have such manly men in my life.
They. Eat. It. Up!
I’m telling ya. You’ve never seen such excitement. There’s booty scooting, there’s clapping, there’s foot-stomping, and of course, smiles and giggles.
What can I say? I’m kind of a big deal.
This morning was like every other morning. I walked in, Read more on Finding words in his drool: Crazy or Observant?…
Clint and I made an incredibly stupid parenting decision about a month ago.
We told the kids their first knock-knock joke.
At first, it was entertaining. They would laugh and laugh over the jokes we’ve all heard a million times. The best part Read more on Video(s): Knock-Knock……
The second a mother first holds her baby, she should automatically be granted super-human immunity.
Just my opinion.
We, as mothers (okay dads, you can be in on this too), shouldn’t be susceptible to cold, flu, or any other virus. (Or lice. Let’s put lice in that category too.)
It is miserable to be sick and to have to also parent kids who may or may not also be sick. Unfortunately, the sickness timing is rarely optimal. As far as I’ve concluded in my 5 years of parenting, there are three possible options in the virus-passing realm:
It is?
Well, too bad. You’re getting one anyway.
Time flies when you’re having fun. Time also flies when you’ve had an amazing time in New York City, and then come home to a house full of more “fun” (as in whiny kids who are secretly holding a grudge against you for leaving them for almost a week), followed by finding out you’ve been accepted to start training for an about.com job that could possibly throw you into freelance writing further than you’ve ever been thrown before.
(More about that one later, it’s awe-some!)
So yes, time has flown.
That’s not to say I have pushed aside the BlogHer10 trip as if it were some hot one-nighter. As a matter of fact it was so incredible and overwhelming, I haven’t even really been able to process it until now.
Ew. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t use the words “poo” and “niblet” in the same sentence…
Live and learn.
This morning, on the Silly Mom Thoughts Facebook Fanpage, I wrote:
Love is never having to say “I’m sorry, I crapped on you.” Apparently, my kids love me… a lot.
It turned out to be a huge tease and I received a couple of comments from readers who were anticipating a juicy poo story.
Hm… “juicy” and “poo” shouldn’t go together in a sentence either.
Noted.
The problem is, that my Facebook update wasn’t necessarily meant as a precursor to a hilarious poop story. It was more reminiscing on my part, of past poo trauma.
That’s not to say, of course, that I don’t have a recent poop story. These stories happen almost daily, so I figured you’d all get tired of them.
After reading the responses to my Facebook update, I can see that isn’t so.
Within a teensy little cavern in my brain, there lives a list. I refer to this list as: Things I Would Marry If I Could. It’s an odd list, I think, but considering I’m not the most normal duck in the pond, I’d say that sounds about right.
Given the ability to do so, and assuming it’d okay to marry more than one object (plus a real person), these are 7 things I would marry: Read more on Marry Me, Arby’s Sauce….
I have decided that I was born into the wrong family.
Don’t get me wrong, my family is great and all. They’re smart, creative, supportive, encouraging, and they’re darn cute, too.
But they don’t come with acreage.
Yesterday morning, I received a text from our friends asking if we wanted to meet them at their family’s river-side property for some fun in the shallow and slow-moving river. Perfect for the hotter than h-e-double-hockey-sticks day that it was predicted to be.
“We have an eighty acre farm,” David had said in his text.
Surely, that had been a typo. Eighty acres? Come on. Maybe eight.
I quickly learned that it wasn’t a typo in the least.
Read more on Photoblog: Summa Summa Summatime…
Mary plopped down beside us in the bar, a blue Santa hat on her head.
It was the beginning of August, but I didn’t ask questions. We were in New York at the BlogHer10 conference and I had seen far stranger things by that point in the trip.
Tracy asked how Mary was doing. She smiled and lifted a single orange high heel shoe from her bag, placing it on the table amidst our drinks.
“I lost my other stripper shoe,” she said, gesturing toward the heel.
Immediately, I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the sexy heel, and Tweeted: Read more on Lone Stripper Shoe-Napping: A Tale…
We’re @ the airport, ready to go home… worried we *might* have too much to pass for carryons.
Oh, and check this out: I shipped those boxes yesterday, right? Well, they ran out of UPS Ground forms, so I had to use 3 Day Select. I am afraid of how much that’s going to cost… I think I should’ve just checked a bag and forked out the $25.
Shippers’ remorse.
Alright. Here are our not-so-stunning morning faces: Read more on Vlog(s): Delirious in New York…
Me words no… work?
Head brain not function.
There have been few times in my life that I have ever been this tired and we still have more to do tonight. Whew! It’s exhausting. It’s ridiculous. It’s awesome.
You wouldn’t believe the swag that I’ve received here. They aren’t joking around. Read more on Vlog: Checking in from BlogHer10…
Before I dive headfirst into the first day of our trip, I have to get something off my chest:
Roberto?! Really… I mean, really?!
Chris was the perfect guy. He was the normal guy. He was the guy who was taking things at an appropriate speed and cautiously hinting at his feelings like, um, a normal dude would.
Don’t get me wrong, I think Roberto’s plenty nice on the eyes and seems sweet enough.
But Chris… Chris!
Dumb move, Allie. Dumb, dumb move.
My friend was so distraught over her choice, she chucked several M&Ms at the TV. You know a woman is pissed when she uses precious, crunchy chocolate as a projectile. Read more on #BlogHer10: Day One in New York!…
I pretty much lost it today.
Twice.
You see, my life revolves around poop. From the second I wake up in the morning, open the twins’ bedroom door and am nearly knocked unconscious by a mushroom cloud of stank, to the final nasty diaper of the day.
All day.
Every day.
Double diaper duty.
Sure, I love my babies. I do not, however, feel any fondness to their feces.
This morning, I left the babies in their cribs a little longer than normal. Read more on Seriously, enough with the crap….
That title is about to get a little more funny.
Read on. You’ll see.
This past weekend, a pregnant chick I had just met was talking about this new cupcake place she had been to. She said the cupcakes were amazingly delicious. She mentioned that one cupcake had salted caramel frosting and she loved it.
I had never heard of salted caramel before. I like salt. I like caramel. But together? I needed convincing.
And anyway, this woman is pregnant… her tastebuds can’t be trusted, can they? I know mine were whacked out when I was pregnant.
Still, I was intrigued. Read more on I am a master baker!…
Lindsay Maddox… Laughing my way through motherhood.
(And taking submission guidelines literally.)
Remember when MySpace wasn’t ghetto? That’s when my blogging career began. It started innocently: I wanted to lose weight and thought blogging would keep me accountable. I threw in some stories of my firstborn.
People commented.
Irony (ˈī-rə-nē or, for normal people: eye-ron-ee):
When a child named Colby absolutely cannot stand cheese.
Thank goodness we didn’t name him Colby Jack…
(Seriously, though, who doesn’t like cheese?! My kid is a weirdo.)
