Mommy Dearest

I think smart kids are capable of both understanding and handling way more than we give them credit for, assuming that we use the right language and maybe leave out the worst details. Hubs disagrees. So I've just finished answering a rather gruesome question from our 7yo when. . .

Hubs: Have I told you lately what a good mother you are?
Me: No..?
Hubs: There's a reason for that.

Fake Plastic Cheese

Me: Ugh. My friends and I were talking about how our husbands all eat American cheese and how gross it is.
Hubs: So? Women eat weird things. Like parfaits. And salads. What's the difference?
Me: Um... Those things are good? And nutritious?
Hubs: So is American cheese. I mean, it's cheese. Except it's not actually cheese.
Me: Exactly.
Hubs: Do you know why men like American cheese? Do you know how we got hooked on it?
Me [sighing]: Your mothers.
Hubs: Yes! Our mothers! See? It was all a woman's fault.
Me: Hey. We'll all take another reason to complain about our mothers-in-law.

Snow Dicks

I. Love. My. Friends.

A few days later... 

And one more small note about Hobby Lobby from a friend unrelated to this conversation:

An Ode to Thanksgiving

My family has a long history of Thanksgiving fowl-ups (see what I did there?), from dead mice in the oven of a rental cabin, to a flooded basement when the turkey's defrosting bath overflowed, to possibly-toxic antique dinnerware that turned the deviled eggs silver. And there's more. Oh so much more.

On the Naughty List

Sometimes a friendly neighborhood game can unearth some secrets you didn't see coming.

There's No Escaping, Part Deux

Hubs recently went out of town for a week. I survived. So did my kids. Barely.


Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday
(The background here is that Kentucky beat LSU in football on the day that Hubs and I got married. I watched the game in my dress and veil from a restaurant bar.)

Thursday

For more travel headaches, click here: There's No Escaping

One Goes Out, They All Go Out

From my cousin:

Sofa Spawn

I shared the above exchange with a friend and discovered that I'm not the only person whose conception somehow involved a couch.