This weekend we are going to the beach. It may not be warm enough for sand beards and Pabst Blue Ribbon this time, but we'll find fun other ways; like brown butter cookies and taco temple.
Anyone who has met me knows that little things like smashed pillows on the sofa, crumbs on the counter, water spots on the faucet fixtures, crooked picture frames and dust bunnies don’t bother me at all. So what I am about to tell you may shock you. I few days ago ran out of crack, I mean Klean n’ Shine, a cleaning product from the 70’s that is so toxic it foams at the mouth but I can not stop using it because it cleans EVERYTHING and doesn’t streak and F you planet, I do a lot for you already, I LOVE KLEAN N’ SHINE. Anyway, I felt the can getting low and made a note to pick up a new can or 10 at the only remaining retailer brave enough to carry this cleaner, Star Market. I grab my cloth bags, see, I told you planet, and head for the market. I make my way directly to the cleaning aisle and scan the usual area only to find that there is no Klean n’ Shine. I try to remain calm but when I see that there isn’t even an empty spot where it is supposed to be, or a tag marking its old spot
Everyone knows someone who is "that" guy or "that" girl. You know the one, he or she is always saying the wrong thing or their sense of humor, or lack there of, is constantly being misinterpreted. You either know someone like this or YOU ARE this person. Either way, sometimes other peoples words don't come out quite right or you don't read/hear them as they were intended. I fear that I have become "that" girl with the sarcasm and humor in which I write about my son. Only a small handful of actual people have brought it to my attention, but it was enough for me to take their words into consideration and re-read some of my postings about Caches and the challenges we face. And you know what? They are right. Some of the things I write are a little bit inappropriate, not quite politically correct, and certainly not how some people would speak of their child, but this is how I cope. My writing and a VERY select group of people in my life whom
Every mother knows that going out in public with a baby brings on an outrageous amount of unsolicited advice from obnoxious well meaning strangers, but what's up with all the questions? Oh my goodness...the QUESTIONS!! Does he use a pacifier? Are you breastfeeding? Why are you still breastfeeding? Does he sleep through the night? Is he in his own bed? Why isn't that baby wearing a hat? It's cold. Boy or girl? Is he a good baby? Are you just so in love? Why do you hold that baby so much? You will spoil him. Are you kidding me!? Now, I understand that most people just like babies and are trying to strike up casual conversation so they can touch my baby with their questionably clean hands and tell me to enjoy every second, BUT some of these questions rub me the wrong way. Perhaps it is because of the "kind" of baby I have and perhaps it is because I just don't have the answer they are looking for. Does he use a pacifier? My answer: Yep, he d
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