An Apple a Day...

Happily, Baby Boy just walked by eating an apple.

Sadly, it was the apple I had pried from the dog's mouth moments earlier.

Does that change the "apple-a-day" slogan if it is covered in dog slobber?

Maggie May

I thought it would be funny if I trained Baby Boy to call Darling Husband by his full name, Bruce.

"Bruth! Bruth!"

DH got back at me by teaching him to call me "Maggie."

At 6:30 am this morning, I awoke to BB's piercing call of, "WAKE UP, MAGGIE!"

I don't know if I am more disturbed that he calls me that or that my day started with Rod Stewart invading my dreams.

Sexy Illusions of Grandeur

Baby Boy's teacher told me that not only did he refuse to remove his sunglasses today, but when asked what he wanted for a snack he said, "cupcakes and lobster."

I wonder where he gets this ridiculous notion that that is acceptable behav...Oh, HERE'S my tiara! Hiding under my chinchilla rug again, silly accessory!

Now, where was I?

Sexy Recycling

I had ten things on my TO-DO list for the day. After accomplishing two of them , I decided to treat myself to some fabulous new yoga pants (and a dress and a shirt and...).

Since I don't have a boss, I need to reward myself for a job well (partly) done.

My last stop was to dump three giant bags of beer, wine and vodka bottles at the donation bin. This is akin to winning lottery for bums. They get a buffet of returnables (sorry Lions Club) as well as the last drops people leave in all the bottoms.

I was heaving my second bag in when a Mr. Nosey Pants started in with, "Ooo, looks like someone had a wedding." gesturing at the Patron bottle peeking out from an impending rip. This bag was about as awkward as a body rolled in a rug and he didn't offer to help but kept on with his guessing. "Graduation? Birthday party?"

I looked at him dead in the eye and said, "Nope, just a Monday."

That shut him up but not in time for me to realize that my bag of new clothes is now mixed amongst the drippings and chippings of a liquor bin.

No Cake on my "Eirth" Day?

Note to self: next year, make sure to announciate E-A-R-T-H Day.

Baby Boy is quite distressed that there were no balloons or cake upon waking this morning on his "E-I-R-T-H" Day.

I thought he seemed overly excited about Earth Day for a three-year old. The asking for presents probably should have tipped me off.

I hope I have an old box of mix in the pantry so he stops looking so depressed.

Maybe I will start calling it Planet Day so there will be no confusion in the future.

Unsexy Road Rage

I am making banana bread as Baby Boy plays with his toy cars. He lines them up to drop the kids off at school; stops so people can cross the street even takes a bird to the hospital.

I am thinking how Norman Rockwell this scene is until I hear him yell, "Goddam it lady! Learn how to drive."

Eek. Acidic tongue during road rage? Guilty as charged.

Sexy Mama Tip of the Day

If you buy a frozen pie and cook it, you are not lying if you say, "Yes, I sure did bake this pie for you darling!"

Love and laziness comes in all forms of technicalities.

Angels Amongst Us

When we were in St. Barth's a few years ago, we ended up at this amazing Angel party where everyone was dressed in white with gorgeous wings that were all feathers and silver sparkles.

Even though I had to leave most of my clothes behind to make room, I smuggled a pair of said wings back state-side. I figured I would make an occasion in my life where I would wear these and make everyone squirm with envy. I lost track of them until Baby Boy came marching out of my closet with them on.

"Hey, buddy careful with those! Those are from far away and Daddy said he would never let me go to a place that expensive again." I said.

I looked closer as he posed with his bum stuck out, his hands on his hips and his lips like a fish.

"Why are you standing like that?"

"I'm an angel like in Daddy's books."

Whaaaaat?

Ah, Victoria's Secret strikes again.

Well, with BB's mile long lashes, perfect teeth and cellulite-free thighs, he may be just what they are looking for.

Mouse in the House

Baby Boy and Darling Husband were tromping around the house the other day eating granola.

"Hey Hansel and Gretel," I scolded as I scraped the trail of crumbs from my feet. "If you want to eat do it in the kitchen. I don't feel like adopting a house full of mice."

Fast forward to today, when I find BB dumping the contents of a full box of Cheerios, cheddar bunnies, raisins and almonds all over the floor.

I didn't even need to ask what he was up to. To a three-year old, a pet is a pet, despite whatever squeaking, germy package it comes in.