Summer is Tom's Favorite Season Because People Wear Sandals, Thus Exposing Their Feet

Thing 1:
The weather is fantastic and the children are enjoying it to the fullest. And so am I. Pasty legs BE GONE!

Thing 2:
My Mother's Day was pretty perfect, thanks for asking. TP picked out and gave me a new pink peplum dress which I have already worn to work (I'll say it - to RAVE reviews). Maybe he should just pick my outfits everyday. On Mother's Day I got to sleep in until <gasp> 8:30, take a long, hot, luxurious shower with the door <gasp> CLOSED, get ready <gasp> nearly uninterrupted, and <gasp> wear make-up on the weekend! A seriously gaspy day! In the afternoon we went to a Rochester Redwings game with the family before heading out to the farm for a rootin tootin hootin hollerin downhome yummy cookout. I told you it was a pretty perfect day.

Thing 3:
Is anyone interested in purchasing a 2-year-old? Because I have one for sale. Turns out 2-year-olds are pretty emotional creatures. I thought that was some sort of old wives tale when I read about it in the parenting for dummies books. Turns out it's real. And it's way harsh. Andandand we already have another progeny waiting in the wings to reach this stage of her life. Wait...what's that I hear? Snipsnip...Snipsnip.

Thing 4:
Tonight was the last episode of The Office. Nine years I have enjoyed that particular television program. Nine years. Nine years ago I was walking the halls of The Swamp, talking to my University of Florida co-workers about recent episodes of The Office. Five years ago I was sitting on the couch with Michelle in the Vero Beach apartment we shared drinking Miller Lite, eating pizza (or pancakes, or microwaved cheese quesadillas) and watching DVDs of The Office over and over and over...and over and over, a practice I continue to this day via the technologically advanced method of Netflix. And this year me and TP watched every episode of this last season - in real time. Can't believe it's over. Truly the end of an era. Jim and Pam forever.

Thing 5:
There are bees and wasps in our house sometimes and I hate it. It better not get worse or I will seriously have this place fumigated. You would think Stockton's breath would act as a built-in fumigation system, but it hasn't. <le sigh>

Thing 6:
I got a smartphone. A Droid, to be exact. As evidenced by my incessant photo posting on the weekends now, and my recent jump onto the Instagram bandwagon. You're welcome, Internet.

Thing 7:
Happy 30th bday to Mich! We're in the same decade again, finally!

Thing 8:
I have paralysis by analysis about working out. I want to work out, but I don't know what to do. I also have the mom-guilt about spending even more time away from the chi'ren / leaving Tommy in solitary kid confinement for even more hours in the day. Should I run? Should I go to the Y? Should I do it in the morning? Before the sun comes up? What if one of the kids wakes up super early and I'm not there? And everyone at a gym is going to know that I have babies and then judge me for not being home with them, right? And what do I even wear? Do people still wear the same thing to work out now that they did 3 years ago - the last time I was in a communal workout situation? Should I Cross-fit? What if I get man-body? What about swimming? But then I would have to shower more often, and it's already hard enough fitting that into my daily routine. How about riding bikes? But we don't have bikes! This is serious stuff, people - mostly because I sound like a neurotic moron!

And I think that's all the things right now. Carry on, friends.

Lurve,
Christa

A Shard of Parenting Brilliance, From Me to You

So, it happened again.

The post-partum dog hates hit me like a ton of bricks.

I could not handle our four-legged friends and their incessant barking, shedding, poopy, snoring nonsense.

Something had to happen. Someone HAD to go.

So, she’s gone. Miley is gonzo. And she’s not coming back.



I know what you’re thinking...

How could you?! That's terrible! You're despicable! BOOOOOO

I mean, I don’t feel great about it.

And when we made the call and sent Miley to a better place, the one thought going through my mind was “What are we going to tell TJ?...How are we going to tell our 2-year-old we did away with the dog?”

The answer turned out to be pretty simple, actually. When you ask TJ where Miley went, he will tell you…

"Miley went to college!"
 

It’s only a little lie. She actually went to my aunt’s house to keep my aunt’s family’s dog company.

Oh wait…did you think we put her down? Like, put her down-down?? Beezus, please. We are not running a kill shelter over here.

Actually, quite the opposite. From what my aunt tells me Miles is exhilaratingly, ecstatically, blissfully happy. She has a yard to run around in, and a buddy dog to play with, her pick of beds to sleep in with people to cuddle up to in them, and pretty constant activity since their house has people around a lot of the time.

Things couldn’t be better for the bitty Miley-Moo. While I do miss her, I can honestly say I do not miss her constant barking. Nor do I miss the little feces stinkbombs she would leave in the middle of the rug anytime we were gone too long.

So there’s your parenting lesson of the day, friends. Next time your family dog is driving you crazy and you depose the of body, however you choose to do it, just LIE TO YOUR CHILD about it, and tell the child the pet went to college.

Duh.

Brilliant.

You’re welcome.

And I’m probably going to hell.

Pitchforks and Arrow Tails,
Christa

Sh*t My Husband Says :: Diet Coke Breath is the Worst

Tommy's eloquently worded declaration to me yesterday while we were riding in the car…

TP: “Wait a minute…come here…”

<I lean toward him>

“Oh gawd…what did you eat?” <Makes gagging noise and covers face with the neck of his shirt>

Me: “What? Seriously? It cannot be that bad.”

TP: “Oh no, it’s that bad…I have never smelled that smell from you…just straight up halitosis. What happened?”

Me: <Laughing too hard to speak> “I don’t know, I just had a Diet Coke, that’s all it could possibly be.”

TP: “Was it laced with farts, because…wow.”

And there you have it. These kinds of conversations take place quite often, and as such I have decided to document them here for your enjoyment in a series titled “Sh*t My Husband Says”.

Enjoy.

I’m gonna go brush my teeth.

AGAIN.

Keepin’ It Cavity-Free,

Christa