Still. I keep doing it. I don’t know why. I guess I’m one of those dreamers who just wants my precious little angel to have shiny, pretty toe nails. Is that so wrong? I keep holding out hope that one day I’ll be able to paint her feet without smudging, streaking or whimpering (June has been known to whine, too).
Sometimes I feel sorry for the color pink. It’s so maligned by our culture. I know so many moms who are adamantly opposed to this feminine hue because they’re afraid it’s going to turn their young daughters into bubblegum clad prima donnas who spurt glittery taffeta from their eyeballs. I too had my own issues MORE »
Just yesterday June had the cutest little unselfconscious toddler giggle. Anymore, her laughter is all hammy and over the top and rehearsed, like she’s testing her vocal chords…trying to give her tonal range a workout, seeing which gurgling chuckle suits her best. It’s always a source of amusement for Jake and I at the dinner table when she busts out a laugh that sounds like it could come from Andrew Dice Clay.
he baby video monitor is a gateway device to other neurotic parenting behavior, like always sitting in the backseat with the child, or taping down the entire house with duct tape and foam. I always feel compelled to ask, “What exactly are you guys looking for? Do you think she’s going to suddenly roll up and knit a shawl?”
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August is peach season: Peach pie, peach cobbler, peach salsa, peach jam, peach ice cream, peach potatoes…. Okay, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. The only downside to peaches (if there is one) is peeling them. It’s one of those tasks that can make you feel like a crazed homesteader — slaving over the MORE »
Shocking news report: Chicken farming is not glamorous. (And here you thought it was right up there with brushing Gwyneth Paltrow’s hair right before the Oscars.) I’m always a bit amazed by how disgusted some people get by the prospect of killing animals for food but then have no problem eating the result of that MORE »
I consider myself a fairly energetic, go-with-the-flow mom, but I draw the line at June’s frequent requests to morph into her personal donkey, horse, helicopter or squirrel. “Mommy, can you give me a horsey ride?” “Nah, June, Mommy doesn’t do that.” “Can you give me a piggy back ride?” “Yeah, no…Mommy doesn’t do that either.” MORE »
Jake and I are scheduled to find out the sex of our unborn baby August 2 (I’m not one of those parents who can wait — the suspense is killing me!) but we’ve hit a glitch. Jake is supposed to attend the Oregon wedding of an army buddy he served with in Afghanistan the same MORE »
June just turned three but eats like a 45 year old truck driver: Pancakes, butter, syrup, hunks of meats, gravy, fried eggs, sausage, bacon, BLTs (hold the L and the T), French fries. All that’s missing from her meals is a slice of plumber’s butt and a chaser of Maalox.
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