I have a complicated relationship with my son’s food. It started with not being able to breastfeed. It was upsetting, but amazing site like Fearless Formula Feeder helped me come to grips with it. My kid was fed, that’s the important part. Then Tater had infant acid reflux, which led to MANY different formulas being
In an effort to try to be more green, I decided to ban paper towels from our house. Jethro has this stunningly annoying habit of ripping off about five of them at a time, just to dry his hands even though there’s a perfectly good clean hand towel within arms’ reach. Which I hate. Hate, hate, HATE. (Sad
Jethro: “”Why are there titties on the infomercial?” Me: “It’s the Genie Bra.’” *Overly excited women discuss a poor woman in a boring black bra that doesn’t support.* Jethro: “You have that bra.” *Death stare* *Later* Jethro: “It’s titty spanx! Spanx for boobs…” Me: “Turn it.” Jethro: “TITTY SPANX!” ************* Me: “Field of Dreams? Again?”
You know what you need to fix a bad week? Besties and s’mores. My friend Stacey came in on Tuesday night and she had lunch with me while we talked about how everyone’s life would be better if they just listened to what we told them. (It’s true.) She also got Maggie to bark at
Her first ride home. (And the reason I was late to our first APW bookclub!) Today, I bring y0u Maggie the Wonder Dog. Also known as Maggie Moo, Moo, Goobies, Stink, Stank, Puppydawg and Babies. Or Margaret when she’s in trouble. We got Maggie from a rescue shelter whom I refuse to name because they
GAH, I feel like I have so much to do all the time. My poor Teux Deux list keeps getting longer and longer because I can’t seem to check things off… Laundry Dear God, do I need to do laundry… Not just what I need for the week, but ALL my laundry. I keep putting it
If you were a fly on the wall (or a super creepy stalker) you’d hear things like this in my house: “Jesus, Ally, when was the last time you emptied the lint trap on the dryer?” “Suck it.” “What?”
You ever start something and then, about halfway through, realize that things are going HORRIBLY wrong? And yet still you solider on, hoping that it’ll get better even though there’s no snowball’s chance in hell? Yeah. That’s the story of me and my Boob Cake.