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Monthly Archives

March 2014
Celebrity Doppelganger

I think one of the most difficult aspects of blogging for me isn’t the writing, the photo editing, the video editing, or the constant need to be “in the know” technologically. No, the most difficult part for me is this black hole time waster called the Internet.

I spend at least 75% of my dedicated blog time asking myself the question, “Why in the WORLD am I reading this?”

[Funny, I often ask myself that same question while here on this blog.]

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A Strongly-Worded Letter

If you guys follow me on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter, you may have noticed last week that I had a pretty rough time, technologically speaking.

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How to Drive Your Parents Crazy: Toddler Edition

They’re baaaaaaaaaaaack!

[What’s back?]

The McRib sandwich at McDonald’s!

I’m just kidding. I’ve never eaten a McRib in my life. But if you’re a fan, I did find this handy dandy website that records McRib “sightings” all across our great nation.

You can thank me in 15 years when all 70 McRib ingredients have processed out of your colon.

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A Sound I Never Want to Forget

The kids and I were over at my friend Staci’s house last week for a play date. Staci’s daughter, Ellie, is 8 years old, and Averi is absolutely taken with her. My little girl loves to play dolls with “Ehwie” (as Averi calls her).

And Ellie even lets “A-zilla” (as I call her) play with her rather expensive American Girl doll accessories.

A-Zilla

Bad move, Ehwie.

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I think the fact that I sit at my computer and do stuff like this—for fun—makes the content of the following graphic even more applicable. I’m ashamed to say that I’m that mom at times.

Motherhood a la Social Media

I can’t be the only mom who is guilty of this.

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Sisterhood of the "Single" Moms

In all the excitement of my in-laws’ visit, I didn’t have time to share with you what happened the day before they arrived.

Two Thursdays ago, around 6:30 p.m., I sat down at a favorite, local restaurant all by my lonesome. All by my glorious lonesome. Brian and I try to set aside time each week for me to run away from home so I can write, and I generally prefer restaurants over our local Starbucks—mainly because there is a “regular” at this Starbucks who insists on wearing headphones and singing Italian opera at the top of her tone-deaf lungs.

[Tone-deaf lungs? That makes no sense.]

If lungs could be tone-deaf, this woman should donate hers to science.

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Play Imitating Life

JJ spent the morning “driving Miss Averi” all around their pretend Kansas City in our living room.

“Averi, do you want to go to Union Station and play with Thomas the Train?”

“Yesssss!”

“You do? Well, sorry. It’s closed.”

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This weekend we hosted another round of family here at the Morgan Hostel. I downgraded us from a hotel or motel to a hostel since our visitors have to share a bathroom with two toddlers. And one of them (WHO IS FINALLY POTTY TRAINED, PRAISE THE LORD) doesn’t have very good aim. Also, our guests are forced to eat my questionable cooking . . . which just adds to whole “I may die if I stay here much longer” feeling.

[I think she says stuff like this to frighten away future visitors.]

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