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…
“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.]
These past few weeks here in our corporate apartment in Birmingham, Alabama have been challenging to say the least. Brian began his new routine at a regular, 8-5 job for the first time in our marriage. And please believe me, neither of us is complaining. Brian is home every night, and I’m pretty sure the greatest hazards facing him in this particular career field are paper cuts and carpal tunnel.
What has been most challenging for me is the period between 7:30 a.m. and 5:45 p.m. where I have two sets of eyeballs staring at me like I’m supposed to know how to entertain them all day every day.
Do I LOOK like Chuck E Cheese’s?
Don’t answer that.
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.
Bye bye furniture budget!
Hello new roof in approximately 8-10 years!
Last week I shared our house hunting adventures in Birmingham, Alabama, but I failed to mention that we’re already here in a corporate apartment close to Brian’s new office. We “moved out” (most of our junk is still there) of my in-laws’ place at the lake in Georgia and decided to live on top of each other in a two bedroom apartment until we close on our house. And thanks to our very nice but very close quarters, I have a whole new appreciation for parents whose children share a bedroom. Seriously, how do y’all do that?
Bedtime around here resembles feeding time in the chimpanzee cage at the zoo.
And I’m not talking about the cute, cuddly chimpanzees who will hug you and pick bugs out of your hair for you. Because those are some helpful, well-trained chimps. I’m talking about the crazy ones who plot against the zookeepers and help each other escape.
Bedtime is like a code red lockdown at the zoo.
It’s been nearly three weeks since I last told you guys I would fill you in on our flu shot saga, and I’m certain most of my faithful blog readers have died of curiosity. You must understand that I have a very good reason for leaving you all hanging for this long.
We won the lottery.
Warning: The following post contains images of bug bites that may be disturbing to some viewers. In other words you may not want to look at this while you’re eating.
If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, you’ve probably noticed there’s been a flurry of activity in our lives the past few weeks. Two weekends ago Brian and I attended BloggyCon ’14 in Sandusky, Ohio. In the middle of last week, we drove to Birmingham, Alabama for Brian’s first grown-up interview. We remembered that the last interview he had was in 2001 at a bookstore in Athens, Georgia. He was hired to remove stickers from the textbooks. That interview probably went something like this:
Interviewer: “Son, have you ever sniffed Goo Gone?”
Brian: “Not that I recall.”
Interviewer: “Well, today is your lucky day.”
I’m pretty sure he was high on Goo Gone that entire summer.
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.
I mentioned on my various social media accounts yesterday that JJ, our 4-year-old, wished Brian a very happy “Fodder’s Day.”
It’s almost like he knew about this blog and that Brian provides me with an infinite amount of fodder for it.