• One playdate, a thorough house straightening, three games of tags, two hours playing in the yard, and a skipped nap session, I’ve finally worn the boys down so they’re nice and quiet.

  No, I haven’t.  I threw them out in the yard because I’m exhausted.  How?  How is it possible to be hyperactive so many hours in a row, without a single break?  Do they have little secret bags of sugar stashed beneath their mattresses?  And why did my swimming pass have to expire this week?

• Somewhere along the way Artemis got the idea she’s not allowed on the couch if we’re not home.  I have no idea why she decided that – we don’t care at all.  Nevertheless, she invented her own rule, and she always sleeps in her dog bed when we leave the house.

  I just walked in the door after JUST leaving (forgot something – no surprise), and as I walked up the front porch steps I saw something jump off the couch and dart at high-speed into the bedroom.  I walked into my house – no Artemis.  I passed a hand over the couch cushion – Yup.  Toasty warm.  I peeked in my bedroom, and Artemis was curled up on her dog bed, sound “asleep”.  As I entered the room she raised her head, opened her eyes slowly, blinked sleepily at me, yawned, and then curled back up to go back to “sleep, like the “good dog” that she is.

  Dude.  My dog’s a better Hollywood actor than most actors in Hollywood.

• Heeeere, wallet, wallet, wallet.  C’meeeere, little wallet, wallet, wallet.  It’s okay.  Don’t be shy.  You can come out now.
• “Knock, knock.”
  “Who’s there?”
  “Snowman.”
  “Snowman who?”
  “Snowman….PRIVACY POOP!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!  PRIVACY POOP! HAHAHAHAHAAHA!”

  Sigh.  We have reached the age of really, really, really inept joke creation.

• “Oh, no!  OH, NO!  Very bad word!  Very, very, VERY bad word!”  The most generically boring cussing ever, courtesy of DragonMonkey.
• “Why I have to dry my own self off with a towel after a shower?  Why I have to button my own pants?  Why I have to go get my own apple out of the fridge?  Mama, why I have to do *eeeeeverything*?”  DragonMonkey is rapidly becoming the poster child for the #FirstWorldProblems movement.

   

• “Go put on pants, Squid.”
  “No.”
  “Excuse me, young man?”
  “No, thank you.”
  “No, wait… I mean… <SIGH>.  Go put on pants.”
  “Not need pants.”
  “Yes, you need pants.  People wear pants, Squid.  Go put some on.”
  “No.  Nobody not need ’em.  No pants.”
  Well, alrighty then.
• I went to a kid’s party yesterday.  The other moms brought crustless organic spinach quiches, a variety of dairy and gluten-free cookies, organic plantain chips, kale and blueberry infused craisin salads……
  Me?  I brought day old cookies and a half-eaten bag of Frito’s.  One of these days I’m going to get my crap together.  One of these days……
• I’d like to take a moment to thank my two beautiful children for their calm, beatific behavior at today’s PNER convention.  It made for a peaceful, relaxing Saturday.  Also, I’d like to thank both my overactive imagination and my ability to repress painful memories for helping me to get past the rough times.

February

• “Can I marry someone?”
  “Uh, sure Squid. When you’re older.  Do you have anyone in mind?”
  “Yeah.  Mrs. Dawn’s babies.”
  “Mrs. Dawn with the three girls?  Which one?”
  “All of them.  Can I marry all of them?”
  “…..I’m not sure how having three wives is gonna work out for you, Squid.”
  “Maybe just two of them.  I just want two of them.”
  “Which two?”
  “Just the two of them.”
  “You just want to marry the twins?”
  “Yeah.”
  “Maybe we should put a pin in this idea, and revisit when you’re older.”
  “Okay.  Can I have some cheese puffs?”
  “Now that we can do.”
• “DON’T GO PEE OUT THERE NAKED.  Squid, you don’t go pee naked.  Everyone see you.  What you were thinking ’bout, peeing in the front yard?”
  “Nuthin’.  DragonMonkey, I just pee.  Let me in.”
  Good morning from the Beans.
• Today’s parenting goals have been lowered from “nurtured and instructed with love and patience” to “alive, and preferably not bleeding too much”.
• “Heeeey!  Look, Mama!  I finded Captain America!”
  “Sweetie, that’s Jesus.”
  “This is JESUS?!”
  “Well, it’s a figurine of him.”
  “Oh.”
  And then……
  “I’m going to squish Jesus.  I’m going to squish Jesus with my trains.”
• Your interesting fact for the day:  For every dollar a man makes, a woman makes 77 cents.  Except when women choose the same career path as men.  Then they make $1.05.
• Sigh.  The kids renamed Artemis.  She’s now named “Sniffie”, and they become angry whenever we refer to her by her “old name”.  It’s been such a long day that I don’t even care.  Come here, Sniffie.  Let’s go change the boys into pajamas and pray they go to sleep like good little boys.

March

• To be fair, “Whatever you do, don’t turn on the hose or get dirty” does sound an awful lot like “Wheee!  Do you know what makes mud?  Water does!  You should make lots of mud!  Frolic in it!  Hoo-ray!”
• “WHAT IN THE HEL—I MEAN, HECK?  NO. NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.  You do NOT pee in the basement.  I don’t…. I don’t even….WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO PEE IN OUR BASEMENT?  are you freakin’ kidding me?  WHY?!”
  “Dada not pee in bafroom.  He pee outside all the time.”
  “I guarantee you, your father does not go piss in the basement when he has to take a leak.”
  “Piss?”
  “Don’t say that.  That’s a bad word.”
  “I not supposed to say ‘piss’?”
  “Squid, quit saying it!  Just…. DON’T EVER PEE IN THE BASEMENT, EVER AGAIN,
  OR SO HELP ME…. Just…. Just DON’T.

  Bean?  Is there something we should talk about?

• Dear children,

  Please don’t stand on the front porch and scream “HI!  HI!  HIHIHIHIHIHI!” every time you see our neighbors.  We’re making a bad enough impression as it is – please give them their privacy and do not act like a pack of chihuahuas that bark every time they see a stranger.

  Your loving mother,
  “Ma”

• “I cleaning my face.”
  “Awww.  That’s sweet.  I love you, Squid.  You’re a cute kid.”
  “I cleaning my face with spit.  See?”
  “Oh.  Oh, wow.  That’s really disgusting.  I take it back – you’re not cute at all. Please don’t touch me.”
• The worst part about growing up is how rarely adults seem to carry around a guitar.  If someone had told me how rare sing-alongs were once you hit your 30s, I might have objected a little more strongly.

April

• Dear Squid, I’m sorry. I hear the “moth-eaten, ragged home haircut” look is in.
• Today is my sixth wedding anniversary.  The Bean came home early from work, and as I pulled into the driveway he walked on to the porch and smiled down at me.

  I ignored him, and slammed the door to my car a little too hard.

  “Are you okay?”

  I ignored him some more.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I made sure both boys had their backs to me as they ran to greet their dad, double-checked that they couldn’t see, and then, like the mature, sweet, loving mother that I am, I flipped off my beloved, sweet-tempered, totally well-behaved youngest son and stomped past everyone and went into the house…..where I found a dozen beautiful roses and a handwritten card with a note so sweet it made me cry.

  I’m sorry, Bean.  I promise I’ll do better next year.

• Dontcha just hate Mondays?  Dontcha just hate Mondays where all you want to do is make some quesadillas for lunch, and while you’re distracted both of your boys pee all over the family dog?
  Yeah.  me too.
• “Mama, you look just like a pwincess.”
  “Awww.  Awww, Squid, thank you.”
  “You look so pwetty.  Just like a pwincess.”
  “Awww, thank you!  Squid, that’s so sweet.  It makes me feel good.”
  “Except…. except you wearing gwasses.”
  “Uh, yes.  Yes, I am.”
  “Ewww. Pwincesses don’t wear gwasses.”
  “What do you mean, ‘ewww’?  Princesses can wear glasses if they need to.  There’s nothing wrong with glasses.”
  “Ewww.  Pwincesses NOT WEAR GWASSES.  You need to take your gwasses off.”
  “Squid, I can’t see without them.  My glasses stay on.”
  “You not look like a pwincess then.  Pwincesses not wear gwasses.”

  And then he gave a heavy, disappointed sigh as he wandered off, leaving me sitting there on the couch with my lukewarm coffee, unattractive glasses, and crushed ego.

• Abracadabra.  ABRACADABRA.  ABRACAAAADAAAAABRAAAAAA.
  Accio healthy dinner?
  Sigh.  I’ve tried every pronunciation I can think of, with every magical flourish I’ve ever read of, and yet no matter how hard I try, Friday night dinner is not cooking itself on the stove.  Apparently it is NOT the thought that counts.

May

• Heeeeere, wallet, wallet, wallet.  C’mere, little wallet.  Heeeeeere, recently-replaced-because-I-lost-the-other-one Visa card, Visa card, Visa card.  Also, heeeeere, car keys, car keys, car keys. Where’d you go, little car keys?
  Some days I really, really, REALLY hate my brain.
• “I love…. I love to kiss girls.”  Things you are not ready to hear from your three year old.
• Mosquitoes, my old nemesis.  We meet again.  And again.  And again.  And again.  Sigh.
• “No, no, no – it’s a compliment.  I said your room DIDN’T smell like old people.  You know that smell… kind of stale?  And.. mediciney?  Yeah, yours doesn’t smell like that anymore, so you’re good.”
  This concludes today’s episode of “Things You’re Not Supposed To Say When You’re a Caregiver”… also known as, “Compliments That Backfired Horribly.”
• “Ohhhhh, shit.”
  “WHAT?!  Did I just hear what I think I heard, Squid?”
  “No!!!  I not do it!”
  “Is that so?  If you didn’t do anything, then how do you know to deny something?”
  “…… I not do it!”
  “Did you just say something very bad, Squid?”
  “No!  I not do it! Grandma say shit!  Not me!”
• Crunchy rice: it’s what for dinner!
• Dear Caspian – I liked that toe, you clumsy oaf.

June

• The Iron Giant, followed by The Land Before Time, and after that they said they want to watch “That one movie with the balloons and the dog that talks” – in other word, the one movie with the most heart-wrenching 8 minutes in movie history.  Dear DragonMonkey and Squid, do you want me to do anything all day besides cry? Love, your mother.
• Today’s song of the day is apparently “I don’t have a penis now, a penis now, a penis now.  I don’t have a penis now, yeah, yeah, yeah“, sung in happy, joyful tones.

  It is weird, inappropriate and completely unsettling to hear, but I can’t seem to get them to quit.  They’re even mumbling it to themselves when they stand in the corner.

• I’m 32 years old.  How much longer do I have to wait before someone comes out with a “Raise, train, ride, and race your own Tauntaun” game?
• Microsoft Word spell check just tried to get me to switch out “your most recent investment” to “you’re most recent investment”.  I’m really, REALLY disturbed.
• “You gonna wear your clothes like that?”
  “Uh, yeah, I’m almost ready to go.  Just give me a second, DragonMonkey.”
  “Yeah, but… you gonna wear your clothes like that?”
  “Well, uh, yeah.”
  “………”
  “Why?  Is something wrong?”
  “Well, I just hope…. I just hope nobody sees your clothes like that.”
  “Oh, for goodness sakes. ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
  “Well, I just hope they not laugh at you….”
  “What is wrong with this outfit?  And why would I care if people laugh at me?”
  “Well, I just hope nobody sees….sees your bra….”
  “FINE.  FINE, DRAGONMONKEY.  I WILL GO PUT ON A TANK TOP WITH THICKER STRAPS SO NOBODY SEES THE BRA STRAPS.”
  And then I stomped out of the room in a huff to go put on something more decent, and less bra-strap-showy, and as I grumbled under my breath, I thought….wait a second.  Aren’t I supposed to be the parent?

July

• Dear mosquitoes of Oregon,

  According to the 2012 census there are 3.899 million people living in this glorious state.  Go suck on some of them for awhile.

  Love,
  The Dried-Out Husk Formerly Known As Becky

• “What do you want to be when you grow up, DragonMonkey?”
  “I want to live with you.”
  “No, I mean… you can be anything!  A cowboy, a police officer, the president, an astronaut – well, maybe not an astronaut with the way the space program’s going, but still.  Anything.  What do you want to be?”
  “I want to live with you.”
  “No, DragonMonkey, that doesn’t count.  I mean, you just can’t sit there and have your life’s ambition be to sit on my sofa the rest of your life.  You can be a soldier, or a hunter, or a businessman, or a chef, or ride horses, or drive garbage trucks, or anything!  What do you want to be?”
  “I don’t wanna leave.  I just wanna stay here and live with you.”
  “No, no… when you’re older!  When you’re a man, like Dada.”
  “I just wanna stay with you.  I don’t wanna go.  I just live with you, okay Mama?”
  “Here, let’s ask your brother.  Squid?  What do you want to be when you grow up?”
  “A gawbage truck.”
  “See, DragonMoney?  See how it works?  Squid wants to grow up and drive a garbage truck.  That sounds like a fun thing to–“
  “No, Ma.  A GAWBAGE TRUCK.”
  “Wait, so you’re telling me you don’t want to drive them, you want to BE a garbage truck?”
  “Yes, Ma.”
  “Nevermind.  I give up.  You can grow up and be a giant metal truck and you can grow a goatee and lounge on my sofa and play video games.”
  “What’s a goatee?”
  “Nevermind.  I need more coffee.”
• The truth is, you just can’t eat away your problems.  But, maaaaaan, today it is not for lack of trying.
• It’s such a nice, cool day.  I think it would be lovely weather to forget I’m wearing a sweatshirt before I pick a fight with Caspian that involves me running up and down a giant hill in 92 degrees.
• New favorite quote:  “Being home with kids all day is just the loneliest never-alone thing.  Like living in a cave filled with malfunctioning Teddy Ruxpins.”
• The Bean loves his car more than anyone I’ve ever met.  He washes and details it weekly, even in the dead of winter.  Nobody is allowed to eat or drink in it.  The boys are only allowed in there in a dire emergency…

  Which is why I’m having such a hard time not laughing at him while he’s on the phone with our insurance company, trying to to explain to them that he needs a new bumper.  Why does he need a new bumper?  Well, because on the way home tonight a raccoon fell from the sky and landed on his car.  I mean, it’s terrible, Bean.  We’re so lucky.  It could have been so much worse, and I’m so glad you’re okay, and I know how much your car means to you. I’m so, so sorry.  But…. Dude.  Your car is getting pelted by airborne animals magically falling from the sky.  It’s a teensy bit funny.

August

• I didn’t spill two glasses of water all over my stuff at the writer’s conference.  Nope.  Not me.  I just tripped and fell down the stairs while on my way to clean up after someone else spilled two glasses of water all over my stuff.
• Phew! I don’t stink.  For a bit there I thought I was struggling with terrible B.O.  It’s just cat pee all over my shirt.  What a relief.
• “No, I not need any underwear.  I just gonna let my penis dry out for a little bit.”  Well…..well, alrighty then.  I think I liked it better when they couldn’t talk.
• “When I grow up, and I gonna be a man, I not gonna have any kids.”
  “Really?  Why not, DragonMonkey?”
  “Well, they too noisy, and they put their dirty hands everywhere, and you have to wash them.  They make a racket – a big, loud racket, and I not want them to be noisy and get my house all messed up.”
  “Where the heck did you learn the term ‘make a racket’?  Wait… that’s not important.  So you don’t want kids because they might be noisy and make a mess?  You want to grow up and be childfree?”
  “Yeah, when I grow up and be a man.”
  “DRAGONMONKEY, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more hypocritical statement in my life.  It’s, like, covered in layers and layers of hypocrisy.  It’s a hypocrisy lasagna.”
  “What, Mama?”
  “Nevermind. No.  I’ll accept and even admire childfree statements from anybody in this entire universe except for you.  After what you’re putting me through, you are not allowed to have any peace in our house.  You are going to grow up, get married, and have 14 children.  With food allergies.  And colic.  And oppositional defiant disorder.”
  “But I not want any little babies.  I just wanna grow up  with a quiet house. I gonna marry Vivianna, and we gonna have a quiet house.  A clean house.”
  “Nope.  Not allowed.”
• Men’s boxers.  Borrowed dress pants.  A nursing tank top.  Why, yes, it is time for me to do laundry.  How can you tell?

September

• One book survived the hard drive crash.  One did not.  That’s all the computer I can handle for one day.
• Home at 10:15 pm. Back on the road at 4:30 am.  Friends don’t let friends become public accountants.
• 7:30 in the morning and he has now reached the hysterical hiccup stage of crying…. because I won’t let him wear two popped collars to the second day of kindergarten.  Not only am I a failure as a parent (popped collars?  TWO OF THEM???), but it’s too early to start drinking.
• “Mom?  Do cows have meat inside of them?”
  “Yes, it’s beef.  Like hamburgers.”
  “Do chickens have meat in them?”
  “Sweetie, you know that answer already.  Chickens are made out of chicken.”
  “Do people have meat in them?”
  “….look! I found some cookies! Want a cookie?”
• “MOOOOOM!  DragonMonkey put his foot in my fan!”
  “He WHAT?”
  “No I didn’t, Squid.  I put my fingers in it.  HURRY, MOM!”
  “YOU PUT YOUR FINGERS IN THE FAN?!”
  “Yeah.  Come upstairs and look.”
  “Why?  Why would you do such a thing?”
  “Because he touched my fan.  And it’s HOT, so it’s MY FAN.  You should hurry.  I’m bleeding.”
  “…. you don’t sound like you’re bleeding.”
  “…..I’m not actually bleeding.”
  “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
  “But it hurts.  HURRY, MOM.”
  “Well, I bet it hurts.  That’s kind of why we don’t put our fingers in fans.  You’re lucky the tip of it didn’t get chopped off.”
  “It does hurt.”
  “Well, I’m sure it does, but I’m not coming up there.  If you’re gonna be dumb enough to stick your fingers in a fan, that’s your problem.  I’m not climbing the stairs to your bedroom just because you’re dumb.  Close the door and go back to bed and don’t be dumb again.”
  “….okay, Mom.  G’night.”
  “Night, DragonMonkey.”
• Trying to figure out Twitter is like sitting all alone at a table in the school cafeteria, mumbling to yourself.  I mean, not that I would know anything about that.  I was totally the cool kid in school.  Everyone idolized me and admired my fashion sense.  I swear.
• DONE!  Beat every goal I had for the half marathon right out of the water, despite my iPod dying at mile five.  Not only did I cross the finish line, but I ran the entire time, and I came in at 3:15 when I originally hoped for 3:30.  The last three miles were the closest I’ve ever come to heat stroke, and everyone at the finish line was speaking…. Russian?  Wingdings?  They switched to English after I got the first five or six glasses of water in me.  Also, I didn’t cry from happiness like I normally do when I cross the finish line.  Nope.  Instead, I spent the first three miles crying from the beauty of it all.  Three. Miles. Of. Crying.  Races do weird things to me.

October

• One pound of Tillamook mild cheddar cheese.  Seven Taco Bell hard shelled tacos.  One loaf of Udi’s gluten-free bread.  Two apples.  One stick of butter.  Artemis, I hope your stomach hurts you.  Bad.  And for the record, I threw away your tennis ball.  Take that.
• Becky Bean:  Single-handedly making childfree citizens feel smugly content with their choices since 2008.
• I’ve traded in the Santa Anas for the Pineapple Express…. and for the record, that is an absolutely ridiculous name for a weather thingie, and I find it hard to take people seriously when they drop it in regular conversation.
• Listening to two 3 year olds have a conversation is even worse than being stuck behind the bar listening to two really drunk girls trying to convince each other that he didn’t deserve you, and you’re too good for him anyways.
• Holy crap.  I just picked up the DragonMonkey from school, and all of a sudden he can read.  My not-very-good Friday just got awesome.
• My parents took the boys for the evening so I planned a romantic night with The Bean. When the weather stole those plans we went out for dinner instead.  Now we are back at home.

  My makeup turned out just right, my hair is laying in shiny curls over my shoulder… I’m in my sexiest shirt and my best fitting jeans.  The lights are low, and I am lighting candles as the radio plays soft tunes from the 40s.  I approach the Bean, who looks up at me with hooded eyes.

  “You ready for this?” I speak low, barely above a whisper.  He nods at me, his eyes locked on mine.  “Take your shirt off,” I say.  The air between us is heated, steamy.  I hold my breath and look down at the man I married, and then I lean forward…..

  And try not to breathe as I smear gloppy Vick’s vapor rub all over his chest, the vaporizer on the floor between us fogging my glasses and overpowering the light perfume I applied earlier.  Eau de Menthol is the new “it” scent, right?

  Saturday night, 8pm, we’re not broke, no children, I’m not sleepy…. and the Bean has a bad cold.  Now I’m sitting on the edge of the tub, sulking.  DAGNABIT.

• “Never touch a downed power line, even with a stick.”  Word-for-word from Channel Two news that they just flashed across the screen.  Hey, Oregonians?  I’m a little concerned they had to emphasize the “EVEN with a stick.”  C’mon.  We can do better than this.
• Things that are edible:  Cinnamon rolls. Green curry.  Ice cream.  Tamales.  Misbehaving children.  Just sayin’.

November

• If you need me I’m “gone ridin’ “.   ON THE BEACH.  REPEAT:  I’M ABOUT TO RIDE A  HORSE ON THE BEACH.  I lied yesterday.  Being an adult rocks.
• You know how horses get all territorial and deliberately (however nonchalantly) pee on their hay, and then they can’t eat it, but man, they sure showed those other horses?  That’s what it’s like owning an immune system with Rheumatoid Arthritis.  You go, you bada@@ mofo.  You eat that knee.  Everyone’s totally going to respect you now.
• Things that are difficult;  Counting your hair.  Organic Chemistry.  Summertime ultra-marathons in the desert.  Trying to fatten up a super skinny dog when your other dog is a black Labrador.

• Anyone who doesn’t think that ADHD is a real thing has never sat bolt upright and thought, “CRAP, I have to give a speech tomorrow on writing – and not only did I completely forget to prepare, I have no idea where I even left my notes from that one conference.”  And then you think, “I should do this right now before I forget again.  Maybe my notes are in that notebook in my car?”  So you go to get your keys to unlock the car, except the normal keys have been lost for almost a week, and you’re stuck with that silly backup key that has no clip, so you keep having to stick it in your pocket…. Only when you go to get the key, it’s not there, but there is a giant wheel of Mexican cheese in your pocket.

  Have you been walking around town all morning with a giant unopened wheel of Queso Ranchero in your pocket?  Why, yes.  Yes, you have and now it’s getting warm and gross. Why is it even there?  I mean, obviously you put it there, but you have no memory of doing it.  You should put it in the fridge, but you wanted to make enchiladas today, and you need to double check that there’s salsa – crap, there isn’t.  You need to pick some up, except.  Double crap.  Where are those keys? You’ve been meaning to look for them, but you keep forgetting, and now you’re carting around your spare key, the one that only fits in your pocket and what the heck?  Why is there a giant package of cheese in your pocket?  That’s gross.

  That was 11:00 am.  It’s now 3pm.  I found an awesome estate sale with some really incredible stuff at great prices.  It was a bit embarrassing to reach into my jacket pocket for my debit card only to hand them cheese.  At least I found the Adderall pill I forgot to take tucked away in the lining of my other pocket, so I know I’m not suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s. I can’t decide if my memory is worse when I’m off my pills, because I’ve grown to rely on the chemical, or if it was always this bad and I didn’t know how good life could be.  I wish I’d broken down earlier in life and gotten help – who knew I could be s productive with the aid of a  tiny pill?  Seriously, though.  It’s 3pm and this cheese is gross.  I’m probably gonna have to toss it, except now my pocket feels kind of empty without the weight of it.  Also, I wish I knew where my keys were.

December

• “Hey, Mommy?”
  “Yeah, DragonMonkey?”
  “Mommy, I love you.”
  “Aww, thank you, sweetie.  I love you, too.”
  “HEY, MOMMY?”
  “Shh, not so loud, Squid.  Yes?”
  “I love…. I love….. Mommy, I love candles.”
  “….Okay, that’s nice.”
  “Yeah, I can blow them out!  I love candles.”
• On our way to cut down a Christmas tree.  We asked the boys what their favorite Christmas song was.  Their answer?  Halloween.  Halloween is their favorite Christmas song.
• I unloaded the box of ornaments…and found a wadded up breast pump shield.  What the….? So I immediately put it in the tree as an ornament, but The Bean found it and made me take it down 🙁
• I wish it was a thing to say “I need a book” in the same exhausted tones of someone saying “I need a drink”, and instead of looking confused everyone would understand exactly what you meant and would murmur, “First chapter’s on me” in sympathetic tones as they handed you a five.  I really wish this was a thing, don’t you?”
• Sometimes, when I’m feeling optimistic, I like to think of it not as a smoke alarm, but more of a gentle signal that it’s time to get creative and try a new recipe for dinner.
• You know how it is – when you wake up from a deep sleep at 1 am with the sudden urge to play tag, and then vomit, and then a rousing game of hide-and-go-seek, and then a pillow fight and bite war before nodding off at 3 or 4 in the morning?  No?  You don’t?  You mean it’s just my kids?
• Slet In Tow!  Slet In Tow! SLETIN WOT!  Sot Wi!
  I really wish the boys would quit rearranging the “Let It Snow” window clings. It’s feeling less like Christmas and more like we’re trying to speak Parseltongue.
• No, sons.  We do not open up presents at 2:30 am.  Go to bed before Mama eats you AND your presents.
• Watching my dogs express their affection for one another by licking each other’s eyeballs is slowly turning me into a cat person.