The solution!

It’s a common experience.  You’re sitting in some location of your house, minding your own business, doing whatever to darn well please, because it’s your house and you can, when you start to feel the inner workings of nature calling you.  A quick scan of the area shows that all the little people you have brought into this world are actively engaged, maybe it’s in Frozen for the 800th time or they are texting that drama queen from school you’ve told them to stay away from, but it doesn’t matter at the moment. Screen time be damned!  They’re busy and the coast is clear for you.

Or so you think.

The minute you steal yourself away to take care of business, they find you.  They always find you.

I’ve experienced it. I’m sure many of you’ve experienced it. Heck, I’ve even blogged about it before.

What I present for you today friends, is a sure fire way to earn some peace and quiet and take back the sanctity of your thrown!

Warning:  The use of this method will require to leave your modesty and inhibitions at the door as you are about to intentionally embarrass yourself and mortify your children.  P.S. – You might also want to make sure those little rugrats don’t have a camera running, as no one will want to see this in replay.

Step on – Take off to the bathroom to do your business.

Step two – Complete said business.

Step three – Wait for the interrupting knock on the bathroom door from a child needing to ask you a completely useless question that didn’t need asking 30 seconds ago but is now a matter of life and death.  (Step three is slightly unnecessary as we all know there was no need to wait.  Said child knocked on the door the minute your cheeks hit the seat.)

Step Four – Tell child you will be out in just one minute.  (Use that sweet, singsongy, mommy voice.  It really lays the trap for what’s coming.)

Step Five – Emerge from the bathroom pants less and barrel towards your offspring at full speed in your underwear while loudly announcing, “I went poopy!  I went poopy!”

I have yet to have them bother me again while I’m in the bathroom.  Of course they don’t quite look me in the eyes anymore and might have to use some of their college money for therapy, but whatever….  All I know is, the bathroom it all mine right now!






Happiness is….

I had an incredible childhood.  When I think back about being a kid, my mind gets inundated with pictures and images of all the awesome things we did and the incredible times we had.  Family camping trips where we would wander and explore the campground for hours.  Making cut out sugar cookies every holiday with my loving and ever patient mom.  Vacations to Worlds of Fun where I would tease my dad about his endless trips to the bathroom, joking it was his favorite ride at the park.  Neighborhood wide water fights usually started by said father who is known to have an ornery streak, leaving no wonder where I get mine from 😉 .  Marathon Monopoly games and Clue nights.  I still have nightmares about what Colonel Mustard did in the Conservatory with the candlestick.  My brother, two of his friends, and I giving a full on KISS tribute band performance for the neighborhood kids complete with full make-up and fake wood guitars.  I was Gene Simmons.

But some of my favorite memories circle around Strawberry Shortcake. Strawberry Shortcake of the 80s was awesome.  She had a killer puffy pink hat, a smile that could melt butter, and she smelled like sunshine.  No really, sunshine…and joy…. and happiness.

And love.

Strawberry Shortcake reminds me of love.

Prior to her arrival into my world, I’m sure I had a very lovely bedspread and nicely decorated room, but I don’t remember it.  What I do remember is I was allowed to have a Strawberry Shortcake bedspread set and was over the moon about it.  My mom, being the incredible and crafty person that she is, didn’t settle for just buying a bedspread and sheet set, oh no.  She bought extra sheet sets and created a Strawberry paradise in my room.  Drapes, doilies, lampshade covers.  Heck, she even recovered the top of a stool I had in there.  But it didn’t stop there.

I had a Strawberry Shortcake doll house (of course I did, duh!) and she used some of the extra material to make miniature bedspreads, drapes, rugs, and lampshade covers, so the house could match my room.

I literally lived in a Strawberry Shortcake heaven as a child and I loved every minute of it.  And mom my even more for making it all for me.

So imagine my joy when I was wondering through Wal-Mart yesterday and stumbled upon this little slice of heaven.

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I think I stood there for five minutes, lost in my own brain as I was flooded with a sensory overload of memories.


Whoever said you can’t buy happiness never experienced the sheer, pure bliss of Strawberry Shortcake and is dead wrong.

I bought happiness yesterday and it’s sitting on my kitchen counter today.

Um…. no

I decided yesterday that I was going to make a traditional corn beef and cabbage today for St. Patty’s. My mom always made us one and I realized I have never made one for my family.

Since I’ve already proclaimed my love for Siri, I decided to let her help me with my family dinner.

I clicked on Siri’s button and spoke, “Corn beef and cabbage recipe.”

Siri listened and typed, “Porn beef and cabbage recipe.”


1.  I don’t even want to think about what that recipe entails.

2.  I’m now questioning Siri and wonder what she really does with all her time.

That’s one way

To me, it seems like God created the little webbed space between my pointer finger and my thumb as a perfect natural note pad.  On any given day, you can find me with little notes or reminders wrote there.




I’ve actually joked about getting a ‘To Do:’ tattoo in the area just to give it a more cleaned up and formalized look.  But that would be silly…….

I’m always curious, as I watch my children grow, which of my obsessions idiosyncrasies will rub off on my them.

Apparently T-Dog is received my list making gene.

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I guess that’s one way to do it!


5 – 7 servings a day

I try really hard to eat as healthy as I possibly can.  I don’t go around weighing my food or counting the calories, but I do try to balance out what I put on my plate, hit all the food groups, and keep my portions sizes in check.  

Try being the key word.  

Breakfast I usually make eggs and grab some fruit.  Two checks there.  At lunch, I’ll make a salad with whatever veggies are in the work fridge and grab a couple of fruits too, attempting to hit the quad-fecta on the fruit/veggie daily requirements.  

Like I said before, I try.

And today I failed….miserably.

This morning we had our monthly family breakfast out.  I played it safe with ham and eggs.  I should have ordered some fruit, but I figured I caught up on that later.  

Um, sure I will.  

I hit the floor running at work and didn’t get time to come up to catch my breath.  Student crisis.  Student crisis.  Student crisis.  Student crisis.  At one point, I know I took a student to the cafeteria and heated up my lunch.  Then my walkie talkie started to squelch and I took off on another, um, ‘adventure.’  One of my lovely co-workers threw my bowl of beef noodle soup in the microwave for me, which – SHIT – is where it still is at this very moment.  Well, that will be fun to deal with in the morning.  

Once the buses arrived and the darling children were all on their merry way, the evening meetings began, and I grabbed the best thing I could find to fill in for my missing nutrients.  

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These count as a fruit right?  I mean they’re orange in color and flavor.  They’re shaped like an orange.  And they’re clearly labeled as an orange.  I’m marking them down as 3 fruit servings for the day.