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My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:

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Why I'll Never Eat Chipotle Again

I know I need to update y’all on our recent trip to Disney World, but this post basically wrote itself, and I couldn’t wait to tell you.

Disclaimer: You may want to put down that breakfast burrito before you dive into this post. As a matter of fact, you will probably want to avoid any type of burrito for a week or two after you read this. And if reading the word vomit makes you want to do so, you will probably want to stop reading right about…

HERE.

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Going Viral

“I realized somebody oughtta make an alarm clock that sounds like a baby barfing. ‘Cuz you know what? There IS no snoozing’.” —Bill Engvall

I generally give you a chance to finish your breakfast burrito before I throw a vomit quote out there all willy-nilly like that, but I figured this was the best way to kick off my post-Thanksgiving wrap-up.

Get it? Burrito. Wrap-up.

[Someone get this comedic genius her own TV show.]

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Raising the Roof

Thanks in large part to your advice and encouragement last week, our home inspection on Monday went as well as we had hoped. There were some minor things that will require our further attention, but the great news is that (as far as we can tell) they were all minor things. Our inspector spent three hours with us and patiently talked us through everything we need to know as we prepare for future maintenance and repairs.

Raising the Roof

Bye bye furniture budget! 

Hello new roof in approximately 8-10 years!

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The Day We Got Sued by Supernanny

Long before Brian and I had children, one of my absolute favorite TV shows was Supernanny. This was a reality program where a female, British nanny named Jo observed the dysfunction in a household and then coached the parents on how to undo years of bad habits they have instilled in their children. Shows like Supernanny are simultaneously hilarious and disturbing to people without children. Brian and I would sit there — in all our childless naïveté — and bemoan the parental failure on public display.

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A Weird Way to Wake Up

Let’s step back to nearly a MONTH ago when the four of us went to my in-laws’ farmhouse in Indiana. When my fashionable, Chinese friend and her husband spent their honeymoon with us. Before I had THREE children in my house asking 3 million questions an hour and eating 3 million pounds of peanut butter. I would like to finally tell you the rest of that story before I forget all of it and that space in my brain is replaced with VeggieTales lyrics.

“If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey.
Even if it has a monkey-kind-of shape.
If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey. If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey. It’s an ape!”

Too late.

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I promise I haven’t forgotten about y’all. And I know that I STILL haven’t finished telling you about our trip to Indiana and our surprise visitors. I will do that soon, God willing. But our world became much busier this week when we invited my cousin’s 3 1/2-year-old daughter, Ginlee (pronounced Gin-lee, just like it’s spelled), to stay with us for the summer.

ginlee_09

How adorable is she?

If you’re keeping track, we now have a 2-year-old, a 3-year-old, and a 4-year-old sleeping under our roof.

I use the term “sleeping” quite loosely.

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Made in China (& an apology to the Chinese Government)

Dear Chinese Government,

In a blog post last week, I said this:

“Believe it or not, even this silly, little blog is banned in China. Which makes sense because access to mommy blogs is pretty high on the list of ways to completely corrupt a nation.”

And then I got a comment on that post from my friend in China that said this:

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surprises07

Those who know me best know that I love surprises — both giving and receiving. Sadly, I am tragically flawed in the secret-keeping arena. If I remember to keep the surprise a secret (a BIG if), then I become too impatient to keep it. This is why Brian almost always receives his Christmas/birthday/anniversary gifts within 25 minutes of when I purchase them.

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Motherhood: Got Earplugs?

For as long as she has had the ability to speak, Averi has referred to yogurt as “dodoke” (pronounced dough-doke). And since I’m a lousy mom with little concern for my child’s cognitive or social development, I don’t bother to correct her.

“Sure, sweetheart, I’ll get you some sugar-and-chemical-filled dodoke. Just let mommy finish her mid-morning nap first. Oh, and can you hand me that lit candle and the lighter fluid while you’re at it?”

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