like a Carolina pine forest

said in my best (yes, I was born in Alabama) Southern drawl.

I was looking down at Edy playing a game of peek-a-boo with my boob (a fun new game she just discovered this week, where she will suck for a second then look up at me and smile and then suck again - repeat over and over and over). I was smiling back at her, of course. She arched her back in satisfaction, stretching out her neck, when I spied something...

what the heck?

I leaned in a little closer. Hidden in the folds of her second chin were these spiky little pine needles.

(Those damn things are everywhere.)

Awesome... they've been there... umm, I don't know how long.

Freshly scented, car clean, I should just hang a deodorizer from her neck, pine.



Happy 4 months, my pine scented, does anything for a smile, little girl. You are 1/3 of a year old, 1/3 of the way to no longer being a baby, 1/3 of the way to me crying hysterically at you being my last.

letter to the assistant photographer

Dearest Assistant to the Photographer,

I get it. Your parents told you if you were going to live at home, you needed to get a job. You are decided to get some cake job that had little job requirements. There... parents got off your back.

I'm sorry that you feel like life sucks. I'm sorry that preschoolers weren't impressed with your cleavage crack or your underwear show. I'm sorry that your parents made you go out in get a real job.

But, you know, someday you'll hopefully get married, have a kid or two, get a minivan and tow one of your adorable kids to preschool. One day, you'll have your darling get their pictures taken and you'll have some expectations...


like having the assistant pick up a f'ing comb.

So, keep reaching for the stars, putting your best foot forward and working your hardest - because I promise life will get better.

Good luck in your future endeavors!
Sincerely,
Anti-Supermom

the future Mrs. Wu

Wyatt barged into the bathroom yesterday afternoon, swinging the door wide open, letting it hit the linen closet. (Which I'm surprised that I even had the door closed, note: it's never locked. Murphy's law would mean if I actually locked the bathroom door someone would get sat on, bit on and/or spit on.)

So Wyatt came into the bathroom with a big smirk on his face announcing "I got married today".

I looked at him, cocking my head "what?" I say.

He changes his mind, shaking his head "No, no... I mean I kissed someone today"

"Who did you kiss?"

"Josieeee" he said with an extra emphasis on the e.

I quizzed him, 'where did you kiss her, on the cheek or on the lips?"

He answers with a little giggle "on the lips"

I pretend to be shocked. "Wyatt!"

He giggles a little more "and she has crooked teeth like me, maybe she sucks her fingers too".

*sigh*

Bonded in future orthodontics.

what's in a name

There was a family that lived close to my hometown that had the last name of Balls. The husband's name was Harry and the wife's, Sharron. Now, say that out loud: Harry Balls and Sharron Balls. Yes, seriously... true story.


So anyways, I'm always on the look out for poorly named things. I spied one at Super Target last night, Bimbo Bread. What's worse, they had to pronounce the name for people like me that think spelling bimbo would mean a foolish woman with loose morals (wait a second... umm, who's confused here). The loaf is printed with a "Say Beembo".

I'm not falling for it.

This reminded me though, of the package of donuts my husband bought on our Thanksgiving road trip down to Iowa:

That's right... it's called Creme Dream Donuts


And yes, it's says "making it fresh for you".

*

Let me know some of your favorites, I'm always in need of a good giggle~