I Can Do Hard Things!

Hippy Dippy Egg

Hippy Dippy Egg

Have you ever met someone who seems to be good at everything they do? Pediatrician by day, chef in the evening, pro tennis player on the weekends and super model at every charity event you see her at. Yeah, that bitch! And you can’t even call her a bitch because she isn’t. She is a good friend, the Mom you call when your kid needs a place to hang out after school for a few hours and the neighbor who calls to tell you how sorry she is when she hears your cat died. I am not her, not even close. I come home from work most days and look in the refrigerator with confusion about how my husband can build an actual meal out of the contents, I fall down chasing my daughter playing a game of tag and I arrived an hour late to the last charity event I attended because I had spent the prior two hours rummaging through my closet reminding myself why it’s a good idea to try on dresses before I buy them. (more…)

Share this post...
Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailFacebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmail

Follow me here...
FacebookinstagramFacebookinstagram

Thank God my Daughter is a Velma

Riley's hero Velma

Riley’s hero Velma

The other morning while my daughter and I were rocking out to the Hex Girls in the car she pointed out that the song was from the Scooby Doo episode where Daphne was really jealous because Fred was giving the Hex Girls attention. She said “wasn’t that silly Mama, Daphne thought Fred liked the Hex Girls more than her!” I wanted to tell her that of course Fred would be a fool not to like the Hex Girls more than Daphne, but I was a good Mom and stuck to the lesson plan.

Unfortunately most of stories involving both her Dad and me don’t include him giving attention to other females. He’s kind of an introvert and doesn’t give attention to many people at all. My example was from when her Daddy was in a band and I had to contend with all kinds of women trying to get him out of his pants after seeing him perform. I worded it a little differently for her since she spends most saturday mornings trying to get him into his pants as soon as possible usually with the words “eww, Daddy, quit showing me your butt!” It brought me back to one particular night when I heard a few of these women in the ladies room talking about the best possible way to get my husband (then boyfriend) to come home with them. When I watched them approach him twenty minutes later when he was trying to make his way back to the merch booth I giggled a little bit with a friend watching him squirm his way out of the conversation gracefully. (more…)

Share this post...
Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailFacebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmail

Follow me here...
FacebookinstagramFacebookinstagram
css.php