Seriously, we may have to move. I feel like I've said this before, but this time I mean it.

We have a snake. In the yard. That slithers. Through. The GRASS.

Unacceptable. And terrifying. Let me explain how bad this is...

Okay, so Bink and Bubba and I are playing in the yard. I am generally a barefoot girl and Bink is, too so we never wear shoes when we go outside (I know, that is how parasites attack your feet and get into your bloodstream and ultimately cause your demise BUT I have heard that parasites are an awesome weight loss technique so I'm willing to risk it)...

(Cue the Jaws music)

And we are running around, being princesses (obviously, what else would we be doing? Our taxes?) and I happen to glance down...

(da DA da DA da DA)


I tell her to run for her life! She tells me I am a goosehead! I pull her out of harms way, run her up the stairs and dramatically into the house. She doesn't thank me for this, rather, she tells me that she wants to stay outside because the snake is nice, and there is nothing to be scared of.

Nothing to be scared of??? This is a legit picture of a random snake I found that is not one third as scary as the snake in our yard:

(Okay, I found MANY pictures of snakes that were really, really scary and scared me too much to post. So here's one that isn't so bad)

If only our snake was this sassy.



Today we went to the playground with a bunch of Bink's little friends. It's the nicest day of the year and while Bink does not overly love the playground, I thought she would love to see her friends outside of preschool, run around a bit, and enjoy herself.

Well, she did not. She spent the entire time clinging to my leg, whining, eating goldfish and interrupting the other mothers. I reprimanded her about 599 times, and she shook her finger at me but kept her mouth shut.

Until the final time, when she hit me in the face.

It was not a real hit, it is the kind of hit that Bink (and probably other kids) do that is very light, so it doesn't actually hurt, and she can pretend it isn't a hit, but she still means it as a hit, so it counts.

So I picked her up and took her home immediately. Of course at this point she was having a full-on meltdown, but I brought her to the car anyway and we came home. She was screaming, crying, shaking her finger, the whole thing. I asked her why she thought we left, and she said that she didn't know, of course, but then we talked about what she did and she apologized and howled some more.

And then my anger dissipated, and I started to feel BADLY.

Like, so badly I have a heavy feeling in my chest. I made her cry. I took her away from her friends. And I know she cares not at all now, an hour later, but I feel like junk. And if someone told me this, I would tell that person that of course they should not feel badly, that kids have to learn and sometimes you have to do things that suck to get your point across.

But I still feel guilty.

What would you have done? What have you done in situations like this? I don't know if there is a middle ground, where we could have stayed and she would have understood the ramifications of what  she did. Is there? She's a really good girl so I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, but hitting is a mountain, isn't it?

Tell me what you would do and stop me from eating bagged shredded cheese while sobbing in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.


Things I Said Today

I have literally said all of these things in the last 24 hours.

We do not show our bums in Target.

We have been in Target 20 minutes. I am not making a third trip to the bathroom. We are going home.

I don't care what I said, you cannot call your doll LaFawnduh Throwup Fabulous.

You may call it a magina.

It's probably not poop, but wash your hands, just in case.

I know, it drives me nuts when bears break into our house at night and eat our hair, too. But we're not moving to the backyard.

I love you a million billion, too!

And most touching of all:

The small beer, please. I have to get back to preschool.


The Best Website Ever and Why My Son Will Probably Ask His Algebra Teacher to the Prom

You are all welcome. Well, if you have junky sleeping babies. This is literally a life-changer.


Um, why isn't this woman running the country? The universe? I'm serious. She is literally solving Baby Boy's sleep issues without incident and it makes TOTAL sense. Here is what I took away from it:

So Bubba is 7 months old and goes down to sleep very easily, but then wakes up and SCREAMS bloody murder for hours. I have been putting him down on the bottle, with a pacifier, so he falls asleep on me, with something in his mouth, and then wakes up in a different spot, with nothing in his mouth, and freaks out. Well, yeah, that makes sense. It would probably freak me out, too. But did I think of that? No. Her brilliancy did, so I switched it up: bottle, bath, book and bed. And I gave him a lovey, which I never did because Bink never really attached to anything. I put him down awake at 7:30. He cried for exactly 35 seconds, and made not a peep until 5:15.


And she recommends the mom carrying around the lovey for a while so it smells like you. Well, I didn't feel like doing that so in the afternoon I went into his room and sprayed my perfume on his sheet and his toy. I wear Dior Addict. It's not exactly a "baby" scent. So when he's 16 years old and wondering why he's innately drawn to the musky florals and heady Orientals that emanate from the old women working in the library, I will say not a word. And you'd better not, either.

Of course that whole situation is bunk, because he's obviously taking ME to the prom, as nobody will ever, ever love him as much as I do. And then when we share a dorm room at his college of choice, I'll spray his room down every night with my old lady perfume and we'll read "The Teddy Bears Picnic"...

I know, but I can't help it. So that excuses it. Sucka!


My Daughter is Calling Me by my First Name and Baby Boy is Mad at Me

I tough loved Baby Boy last night.

He will sleep 12 hours one night and the next be up at midnight for the day and this is NOT okay.

So last night he woke up at one. I rocked him and put him back down. And he SCREAMED and cried like I threw out Leo, his monkey (I didn't). And so I had two choices. I could go get him again or I could let him cry.

I let him cry.

I shut the door. I shut my door. I turned up the TV (sorry, Husband) and just went to sleep.

At 7:00 this morning, he was sitting calmly in his crib when I went to check on him. Usually, it's Christmas morning, the Lilly Pulitzer sale and a party sub rolled into one when I come in. Today, NOTHING. He was Somber Sam and would not smile at me. He smiled at Bink. He smiled at Husband. But I got a very serious face and then he POINTEDLY looked away. Like, totally on purpose.

So obviously I stood on my head, tickling him, bouncing him, anything I could think of and he seriously wouldn't look at me! He knows what I did and he is so disappointed in me that he can't even make eye contact. Hopefully, when I give him his applesauce and puffs he'll forgive me, but right now it's the full-on Deep Freeze.

Remember the episode of Friends when Rachel goes to the airport to talk to Ross about how he's in love with her but the flight attendant tells that random guy instead? And he says to his wife, "Don't give me that deep freeze!"? This is the current situation. Except worse. 18 pounds of pure disgust. It's tragic.

And Bink has taken to calling me by my first name. Or "Maw", like she is some old-timey cowboy.

Okay, time to get back to my furious baby...


Dealing with Mom Fails...

I really hate being someone who thinks that if something good happens and you talk about it, it gets ruined.

You know where this is going!

How do you do it? I feel like the morning was all downhill - Baby Boy won't nap, Bink is driving me nuts, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm sick of the bad weather, I just want to go to sleep until it's 60 degrees everyday. It's a total Mom Fail day. I can't get out of my head that I'm not doing a good job and I'm probably taking it out on the kids by needing time away and having a shorter fuse than normal.

I know that taking time for yourself is NOT a bad thing, it is necessary, so maybe I should just shut my trap, give myself 20 minutes and hit the reset button. That's actually probably a really good idea. You guys are so smart!

How do you deal with Mom Fails? None of us are failing, but you know what I mean, when you feel like you just can't get anything right and want to hide, what do you do?

Monday Momrotica

It is 7:39 and my kids are still sleeping. Um, wow. I love daylight savings.

Even though it is snowing right now and that is totally depressing, this weekend it was sort of warm and we got to go outside and do the things that Bink loves - specifically, looking at animals and talking to them, and then demanding to know why they aren't talking back to her. We MAY watch a bit too much TV.

I put away my Ugg boots. I'm sick of them and I never want to wear them again. Which is why it's snowing now, I'm so, so sorry.

The husband WANTED to get subs yesterday! I am generally alone in my desire for giant sandwiches, so this was huge. Also, the place had DELICIOUS mozzarella sticks, like, the best I ever had. Oh, fried cheese.

Attacking the Gwyneth Paltrow cookbook again this week. I know it's so very cliche, but I adore her and secretly think I am her (what!?) and actually her cookbook "It's All Good" is well, all good. Everything is pretty easy (I substitute the weirdo stuff with normal stuff and it's still delicious) and I guess healthy.

Kids are up, jinxed it! Next we'll talk about Mini Eggs. Um, yeah. Spoiler: Eh...