First off, I should say I wouldn’t even be here without the kids. No, I’m not talking about their love or unerring support–have you even met my kids? They will cut you for a cookie. (But then again, so will I.) No, I mean that without their destructive, logic-defying antics, I wouldn’t have been writing as long as I have. The whole blog is just a protracted focus group meant to answer the question: Are they crazy or am I? Now there is a book. It’s about the insanity I am subjected to every day, be it from the kids, my hillbilly husband or my own inner, and clearly dysfunctional voice. Bowing to popular opinion, I have not given up my day job. And why would I? It’s clean, it’s quiet, and none of my co-workers demand that I wash their dirty socks or steal my earphones. I may move in.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I think I did a bad thing. Having decided that Sarah Connor is the only logical role model for the times we live in, I pulled Terminator 2 up on our TV, and settled in. You know, for parenting tips. My youngest son came down to join me and immediately started...
It’s Hubby’s birthday. Hilarious!
Tomorrow is Hubby’s fiftieth birthday, an event I have been waiting for with gleeful anticipation. “Oh, my husband? He’s not with me right now... you know how TIRED folks in their fifties get.” “Are you SURE you should eat that? Now that you’re fifty, you need to...
Diamonds are Melanie’s Best Friend.
Sometimes my husband has flashes of brilliance. For instance, he recently informed me that we met exactly 25 years ago on Super Bowl Sunday. “I think we’re going to have to celebrate,” says he, then proposes that we have his mother’s diamond engagement ring retooled...
