So, I’m reading a little Genesis this afternoon and it’s all, “This dude fathered this guy and this man made this baby who had more babies….” and all the sudden this man named Enoch is snatched. Into Heaven. Because God and him and like total BFFs. WHAT?! Amongst a bunch of boring who-fathered-who hoopla, Enoch disappears. Here are the verses: Continue reading
Today was crazy. I ran pretty much every errand on my list. Sent cards. Went to bank. Purchased and wrapped wedding gifts. Got ten dollar Target gift card for buying two boxes of diapers. (Woot!) Bought Maya Angelou stamps. (Double woot!) As Jack and I were exiting our car at Target, the sky fell upon us and soaked us completely. It was almost nice, as the air conditioned building helped us survive the record breaking heat that has kept us from going anywhere outdoors this week. The best part of my day may have been when my dog puked up hamburger grease on the carpet. Or maybe it was a few hours later when she did it again, but I didn’t notice-until my baby slipped in it-requiring an immediate tiny human rinse off/carpet cleaning combo. Actually, it might even be about an hour ago, when my husband woke me up in the middle of the night to find his car keys that I lost. It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago, we were living it up in Kansas City. Already, we are back to the real world of annoying my husband and bathing my puke covered toddler. Continue reading
Tonight, as I was driving to my local grocery store to buy TWO GALLONS OF MILK FOR A DOLLAR (seriously!), a group of pre-teens on their bikes had taken over my street. They were literally in the middle of and on the both sides of the road-and they did not give a poo that I was driving steadily towards them. I gave them my classic “What the heck is wrong with you?!” look as one child gave me the finger and another angrily proclaimed, “Something-something-something-lady!” while running towards my car like it had insulted his mother. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do. I don’t know if he knew what he thought he was going to do, but dammit, he was ready to do it. Continue reading
Every day, as I prepare a meal for my one year old, I think of my dad. Especially when I’m cutting his sandwiches into perfect little squares so his squishy fingers can shove bite-sized pieces into his mouth. It reminds me of the meals my dad used to make me. Peanut butter and jelly was my fav. Four perfect squares, hold the crust. Cheese toast was second best. These bits were even smaller. Tiny individual toasts with melted cheddar. Another frequent request was “pink pink”, my word for scrambled eggs. Dad isn’t quite sure where that came from, but we think I called it that because the eggs came in a pink carton. I didn’t call scrambled eggs anything, but “pink pink” until I was embarrassingly old. When I am cutting Jack’s sandwiches up for him, I think of my dad and all the fun we had growing up. All the weird and unique things I did with just my dad and no one else. Here are just a few of the things that I flashback to while cutting sandwiches: Continue reading
It was my first job ever. I didn’t even apply for it. A few days before my first day of high school, I was informed of my new position at Eldercare Pharmacy. I was to work there after school until 5:30pm. I was excited. I’m not sure why. We hadn’t even discussed that I would get a job in high school. I guess my parents just thought I should. Alright, then.
As usual, I hadn’t eaten a thing. I never woke up in time to eat anything, and I refused to eat the nastiness they served for lunch at school. No, not even the rubbery pizza with plastic cheese could tempt my palate. Someone once pointed out to me that I could pack a lunch. What? Like, plan ahead? When? The night before? Are you kidding me? Nope. Another option would have been bringing money to school for the vending machine, but I didn’t have a job, yet, so…. Continue reading
I’m confused. Am I not funny? I seriously thought I was. I mean…I didn’t think I was so funny that I could be a successful stand-up comedian or anything, but I thought I was funny. I indulge in good, sarcastic, witty conversations with my acquaintances. Usually, they laugh when I want them to laugh. I have great timing, don’t I? After this weekend, I honestly don’t know.
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Today, as Jack and Myles were playing in their car, I overheard something that you might not believe. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Myles likes to hit the car really hard and run away while Jack laughs and stays in. I was just checking to see if everything was alright and that no fingers were at risk for jamnation. I guess they didn’t notice. I walked in mid-sentence. It all seemed like normal toddler babble to me, until…. Continue reading
If your mother is anything like mine, it can freak you out when you find yourself saying or doing something the way she does. My mother is truly saddened when she sees a young lady (like myself) who chooses not to wear make up or fix her hair. It drove me nuts growing up. I was a tshirt and jeans kind of kid. I don’t think I ever actually fixed my hair until….well….11th grade? Seriously. And that was only occasionally. I refused to wear contacts until then, too. In hind sight, it is hilarious to me that these things bothered her. She is the one who taught me to never pay full price for anything. Abercrombie and Fitch was robbing people if they thought she was going to pay $50 for a tshirt. SHE WAS RIGHT. That is insane. It’s a piece of cotton that has A and F on it. YOU are PAYING Abercrombie to walk around and advertise for them. When I was very little, I’m sure she fixed my hair, but once I got old enough to dress myself and whatnot, she never really said, “Okay, Becca. This is how you fix your hair.” She didn’t pick out my outfits. I did. I had the opportunity to make my own decisions and I chose to do what required the least amount of effort possible. Which drove her nuts. Which drove ME nuts. We were very different people. I was an early teen who hated school, girls who care about A and F, and most of all, my mother. She. Was. The. Worst. She wanted me to study. She wanted me to do my homework. She wanted me to SWEEP THE DINING ROOM LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF HOUSE ELF. What was wrong with her? She was upset with me when my teacher called her and said that it looked like I may have forged her signature on my report card. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, MOM?! I GOT A C IN HISTORY! She even made me call and apologize to my evil teacher like it was MY fault that she noticed that my mother’s handwriting looked different. Then, when I decided I wanted to join a softball team because my best friend was doing it, she wouldn’t let me quit. IT WAS HOT! I was an awful softball player and she still made me stick with it until the end of the season. She came to every game just to make sure I went. Or to root me on. I don’t know. Moms, right? Ugh! Now, as an adult, I find myself doing things the way she did and it just totally freaks me out. Here are some things I have to blame on my mother: Continue reading
This is Heidi:
This is Hobbes:
We love them so much. We want them to bark. We want them to alert us of predators loitering in our garage. We want them to scare away the people who are trying to sell us something. We want them to wake us from a deep slumber if our house is on fire. BUT OH MY GOD WILL YOU PLEASE STOP BARKING AT THE LITTLE GIRL PLAYING DRESS-UP IN HER DRIVEWAY?!?! Heidi? Hobbes? While we appreciate you and your amazing skills, I need to explain to you why sometimes, it’s really unnecessary. Here are some really stupid things that make you bark: Continue reading
Do you feel like you’re surrounded by drama? Every time you think you have a good and trustworthy friend, do they disappoint you? Do you surround yourself with guys because you just can’t take anymore cat fights? Then, I have to tell you something about friendship. You’re doing it wrong. Even if you aren’t a drama queen, if you are constantly surrounded by drama then you really need to reevaluate your friendships. Here is a handy little diddy for you to read and re-read whenever you have had enough. Continue reading
The Munchkin Nugget 