Watching the Wee Lass’s waistline….grrr

Occasionally – and certainly lately – I feel a real affinity with that writer who got positively heaped with scorn when she penned a piece for Vogue about the struggles she was having keeping her then-7 year-old daughter’s weight down. I don’t know if you remember all that hoopla, but she got pretty much crucified…

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I think I’m missing the nurturing chip

Stop. The. Presses. I’m cooking dinner. It’s totally stressful in Momover Central at the moment. We’re 99.9 percent sure we’re selling our pad and moving just a few blocks away, but it’s that .1 percent limbo that’s had Hubby and me tied in knots for weeks now. Plus the Wee Lass doesn’t know about the impending home…

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Once in a blue moon, the “family” bed is awesome

Last night, circa whenever, my gigantic boy kitty  – Thunder – lumbered up on our bed and collapsed in a furry heap on my left thigh. He does that; it’s a habit he picked up while I was pregnant, I guess as a way to protect his vulnerable, with-child owner? Who knows. Sometimes I think…

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Today’s topic: Donning big-girl undies

TGIF, my lovely Momoverettes! It’s the first official Friday of spring! (I know; I need to stop with the “spring this, spring that” nonsense already. Can’t help it, I’m just beside myself with joy over the end of winter.) Okay, so last night I had dinner with Lisa, my dear pal and fellow Quartet member….

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Project! Finding a good driving school,stat

Happy! Happy! It’s the first day of spring! Along with longer daylight hours, MORE SUN, and much better clothes, I can always count on the Vernal Equinox (ooh, science-y!) for a heavy dose of guilt over the fact that I don’t drive. After all, the town pool will open on Memo Day weekend, which is…

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Egg-timer organizing is pretty brills

If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m sort of freaking out right now. Why? Because we’ve come to that dreaded time of year when Hubby asks me to collect all my tax documents for the previous 12 months, so he can make a game plan with the accountant and we can pay our debt to society….

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This is my idea of a super-fun read

“Barry Manilow walks into my hospital room. He’s my best friend.” Though I definitely laughed MAO off when I read it, that particular section of the book I was devouring was so completely not funny: After basically collapsing at her home, gasping for breath and covered from head-to-to with some gruesome rash, alternative-health crusader Suzanne…

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Operation Organize: The Great Toy-Purge of 2013

After steadily wearing him down with our whining and cajoling, the Wee Lass and I have finally gotten Hubby to acquiesce to our very first cruise. (Wait, this just in: The Wee Lass has informed me that, going forward, she wants to be known as The Kid rather than the Wee Lass. Veto-ing that request…

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