Kids playing peekaboo in spaghetti and laughing so hard at the dinner table that they get the hiccups; What could be better?

It is a cruel cruel irony that at a time when it is the most important to have food in your stomach it is impossible to keep it there. Blek.

unholy jeans

My six-year-old son just holed his last pair of unholy jeans. Now all of his jeans are holy. It sounds like a good thing, but little boy jeans are one of those things that you want to remain unholy.
They say it's the style to wear holy jeans, but it's not really true. The only holes that are really acceptable in holy jeans are the ones you can tell are pre-made. Pre-made holy jeans are expensive. Holy jeans can be more expensive than unholy jeans, but accidentally hole your unholy jeans and they're now holy rags. What does that say about the advancement of our society?
Well, now off to buy more unholy jeans. Do You want to take bets on how long before they are holed into holy ones again?

Paperless

The other day I was visiting my parents. I had a few things run across my mind that I wanted to write down, but I discovered I had forgotten my red book. After the screams died down I looked for a scrap of paper to hold me over, only to discover that there was none. No paper in the entire house. Not a post-it. Not even my collage student brother had a notebook to tear a page from.
"I have a lap top." He shrugged.
I shouldn't be upset. I'm sure there are many households that now live paperless. Soon it will be a rare sight to spot a spiral bound or find a sticky-note to scribble on. It's a good thing, right? It saves trees.
So why do I find myself wondering around holding out an open notebook ready to catch any words that might fall out of virtual reality? Why am I staring at the end of my pen, watching the unused ink evaporate?

avoidance behavior

Do You know the definition and motivations of avoidance behavior? Well. . .uhm. . .I think I'll go do something else.

Why is it different?

Hello You,

Tonight I'm looking out at the park across the street where my we played earlier today. The night makes it different. If I were out there I wouldn't sit on the benches. I would slide down the cool slides. I would walk in the cool sand. I would climb the cool ladders with bare feet.
And my children are asleep.
Why is it different?

Bye You.

yucky

I have so many clever posts written in my head, but I just feel yucky. Yucky, yucky, yucky. The only person who can make it better is my mother and she's at work. How dare she? She needs to be available to sooth my sorrow at every moment. I know that there are many other people who love me and would say, 'I'll help.' But sorry, I want my mommy.

I am now sticking my tongue out at You as a goodbye.

p.s. I just realized something. I'm a mommy. I hope I can sooth sorrow as well as my Mother. Yikes!