Colt is fascinated by the fact that I don’t stand up to pee.
Those of you who don’t have kids are probably thinking, “EW. Why are you letting your son watch you go to the bathroom?”
First of all, to potty train your child, you have to SHOW him how to do it, so there’s that…
But even when the training is over, I can’t just lock myself in the bathroom and let my kid run free?!!!!
I was delivering letterhead to a little medical clinic when the marketing director offered to give me a free body scan on their new fancy schmancy BMI machine.
Awesome, I thought! Definitely a perk of the job!
(I had done this before at Publix waiting for a prescription, but this machine was different. Fancier…)
Classical music flowed from its speakers. It was probably pumping out pure oxygen.
I stepped onto the machine and a few moments later,
For more than a year now, my best friend and I have exchanged outfit photos each morning.
See my outfits here.
See her outfits here.
It’s been a great exercise for me because it’s forced me to put more effort into what I wear (and come to grips with my body image – I’m a size 8, and that’s OK!)
I believe when a woman likes her outfit,
Here's the cake I made for Colt's 3rd birthday. Unlike all of the other housewife bloggers out there, I did not bake this cake from scratch. I did not pluck the Valencia oranges from my modest back yard orchard, or the eggs from my grass-fed hens. I did not shave the zest from the rind of the organic lemons I picked up from Whole Foods. I bought the orange-flavored Duncan Hines cake mix on sale. And the dark chocolate icing in the can. My mother said it tasted like Baby Tylenol. She was about right. But like I always say, it matters more what's on the outside than on the inside. And It looks awesome, right!?
1. Pumpkin Spice Lattes at Fivebucks.
I mean Starbucks. It’s not my favorite time of year until I’m spending half my paycheck and one-fourth of my daily-calorie-intake on a 12 oz. cup of pie-flavored steamed milk.
Let’s hope the high-waisted-shorts trend dies before the spring flowers bloom again.
When I was in college, the trend was LOW-rise shorts. So low, that girls’
There’s nothing more exciting than an annual visit to the gynecologist.
The day when you get to be extra late to work because you have to go answer a bunch of really uncomfortable questions about intercourse and self-breast-exams and your family’s medical history. And then walk around all day with a gallon of KY Jelly oozing out of you. Asking yourself …why the hell did I decide to wear a skirt today???!!!!
Before you even see the doctor,
If you’ve had a baby, you know that baby shoes are totally impractical.
Babies kick them off, fuss when you try to wrestle them back on and outgrow them too quickly.
They are a total pain in the ass.
But they are soooooooooo cute.
So when I found a plaque that read: “Cinderella is proof that shoes can change your life.”
Ugh, I died.
It’s 2-o-clock in the morning.
I “went to bed” at 10:30, but I’ve already gotten up twice to pee. And once to check that the oven is off. And once to make sure the front door is locked.
I’ve jussssssst started really sleeping…like rapid eye movement sleeping…like dreaming about Channing Tatum’s nether-regions sleeping…
When I hear it.
The blood-curdling scream of my toddler from the other room.
It was “summer cleaning” at work, and everyone was assigned a duty. Mine was to clean the sales office.
I’m pretty sure this space hasn’t been cleaned… maybe ever? So it was a daunting task.
After sweeping up several trash bags of dead roaches, dust rabbits, and… hair (Gag… that’s what you get with four women sharing an office)… I could see the progress.
As I was putting away the last clear plastic container of odds and ends,
Whenever I’m considering a new hairstyle, I always bring a photo of a celebrity.
I google “best hair cuts” and spend 45 minutes pouring through every picture of Sandra, Cameron and Jen until I finally find my perfect muse.
I print it out on my desk jet printer, which is always out of ink (so the photo is a weird magenta color) and stuff it in my bag as I race out the door.