Month: April 2012

Confessions

Celebrating Small Successes

I’ve come to the point where achievement of just one task in a day is truly something upon which I can hang my hat.  I’m a slightly obsessive vacuum-er.  What can I say, I like a lint free floor, and when running the Bissell Versus (stupidest invention this side of 2009) takes half the time of sweeping, I’m not above busting that thing out once or twice a day.

Normally, it would bother me that my floors are this dirty.  But today’s task was huge, even by non-pregnancy proportions, so Saturday morning’s bagel crumbs will simply have to wait.  Today, I tackled the seasonal closet clothes swap.

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Confessions

Do Bad Things Come In 3’s?

**WARNING: This post alludes to the subject of poop.  Stop eating or stop reading.**

I’m not very good at keeping up with old wives tales or superstitions or whatever.  But I feel like somebody is out to get me.

Can I just say for the record, that if punishment is necessary, pregnancy is absolutely enough.  God didn’t condemn Eve with this affliction in the Garden for nothing.

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Confessions

Because I Am Not One for Cliches

So I’ve done some serious considering, as of late.

I’ve decided that a public service 3rd pregnancy announcement via Facebook is exactly as trite and cliche as starting a mommy blog to chronicle the news of something as rare as triplets.  But seeing as how I am not just starting this blog (and not, to my knowledge, carrying triplets), it does not feel trite nor cliche at all to announce here, that we are expecting our 3rd baby, some time in December.  (This is according to the ever medically accurate iPeriod Ap on my once dreaded but now necessary for life iPhone).

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Carter, Confessions, Eliott

I’m Sorry, I Do Not Want You

There is something equal parts joyful and concerning about watching your not-quite-two-year old try to hug his bath water.  On the one hand, here is this kid who just loves being alive and wants to enthusiastically give everything a hug; on the other hand, he’s hugging water that I’m eighty percent sure he’s peed in.   -Andrew Hachey

How can you not want this?

I do not love animals.  In the same way that I’m not a very big fan of other people’s children.  I wasn’t born with a natural inclination to love all babies, nor all things covered in fur.  Or feathers.  Take your pick.

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Confessions

Holy Herbs

Yes, it has been a while since I’ve posted.  Yes, last week was Spring Break, which means I was on full time entertainment of children mode.  I spent every afternoon napping with the girls.  Writing simply wasn’t happening.  Same goes for laundry.

I’m nearly certain it was about this time last year that I was taking stock of the patches of jungle that are growing wild in my once (apparently) very diligently planned and tended yard.  I would hate for the former owners of this house to come back and see what we’ve allowed the place to become. Continue reading “Holy Herbs” →

Confessions

Rockin’ The Suburbs

I have recently become convinced that despite what may be implied by shows like Desperate Housewives and Weeds, getting acclimated to life in the suburbs has very little to do with what a person looks or sounds like, and virtually nothing to do with what one’s husband does for a living.  I could be wrong, by my most recent hypothesis suggests that the most important thing a person can do for social status and fraternity among the natives is succumb to the growing trend of public-scrapbooking in the form of auto “decals.”  Auto-decals, the more sophisticated younger brother to the bumper sticker, either magnetic or static in nature, can be affixed, removed, and reaffixed (if necessary) to keep up with suburban family growth and change.  For those, like me, who’s five year old’s baby book sits mostly empty in its original box at the top of the closet, I thought it might be helpful to outline a series of very simple steps to get started on the journey to suburban popularity.   Continue reading “Rockin’ The Suburbs” →