‘It’s the night before Christmas, and all thro’ the house,
Every damn person is stirring, both upstairs and down.
The stockings are hung on the entertainment center with care,
I wish someone else would fill them, so I could go wash my hair.
I think it should be required that every teenager work at least three shitty jobs before they turn 18. We could make it like the military draft. Kids would sign up and get deployed to some dusty hell hole for a while. Nothing like an 11-month tour at the Cinnabon, or Perfumania, to get your head right.
Do you see this clean toilet?
I’d like to take credit for it, but I can’t, because I didn’t clean it.
My 6-year-old did.
I was drawing a bath for Colt when he said, “Mommy, I cleaned that potty earlier.”
“You did what?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“It was REALLY gross,” he said, making a disgusted face. “So I took that brush over there (pointing to the toilet wand) and I scrubbed the potty.”
We wanted Colt to feel invested in the process of preparing for our new baby, so we brought him with us to register for a few necessary items.
We didn’t expect him to hijack the scanner for the entirety of the process, but I should have guessed.
A “gun” that shoots a “laser beam?”
And anything you scan magically arrives at your house via UPS, and you don’t have to pay for it?
When you're a teenager (or a toddler with a phone, as the case may be today) the only people who call are your parents, your BFFs, your boyfriend and maybe the occasional prank caller. But once you have your own money and an aging body, you start getting all kinds of new and interesting phone calls. I try my best to never answer the phone. I figure if someone really needs me, they'll text me, or track me down via drone or carrier pigeon. But occasionally a call falls through the cracks. In my experience, these correspondances fall under one of three categories. The Insurance Call Today I received a call from my obstetrician's office saying that all of my recent medical claims had been denied by my health insurance company - because they have me listed as a male. Interesting. I'd like to know how many males named Julie are visiting the OB? And how many of these male OB-goers are submitting gynecological claims for pap smears, urine samples and ultrasounds? Now I will have to spend 30 minutes on another phone call with the insurance company navigating numerical prompts and shouting voice commands to a robot agent. Is the robot agent going [...]