Mommy Started The Fire!

In my post Rocking Motherhood, I briefly mentioned flaming doughnuts. Details were requested, so today you get the story. It’s less thrilling than it sounds, but I’ll happily give you the details. Those of you who follow my other blog are familiar with this story, so aside from the doodles, this will be a repeat for you.

Several months ago I decided to make my family a sweet treat. After looking around online, I found what was supposed to be a super easy doughnut recipe — no need for yeast or waiting for the dough to rise. I told the family over supper than I planned to make them. There was much excitement.

Maybe there wasn’t so much excitement as skepticism on his part.

After we finished eating, I pulled out the ingredients, put a pot full of oil on the stove, set the burner to high, and started mixing everything (very carefully, I’ll add, so that I wouldn’t accidentally get my finger caught in the beater and beat it again). The consistency of the dough was off and was more like a thick pancake batter than something I could roll out, cut, etc., so I changed the game plan.

“Y’all, we’re having doughnut balls instead!” I called out. I figured I could just drop spoonfuls of the dough, shake some powdered sugar over them and no one would care too much that they weren’t O-shaped.

As I was finishing getting my dough ready, my husband came back into the kitchen and asked if the oil was supposed to be smoking.

“I think it’s just steaming. That means it’s ready for the dough,” I informed him.

After I finished mixing the dough, I dropped a spoonful in the oil, and it instantly turned dark and started smoking. This is where the thing certain people have said that annoys the hell out of me came into play — “you might be smart, but you don’t have much common sense.” Instead of taking the doughnut out of the oil and taking the pot off the burner, I started fumbling around with the window to open it to get the smoke out. Baby Girl started coughing in her high chair and yelled “Mommy!” at me, giving me a nasty look. I got her out and handed her off to my husband who had just come back in, and I told him to take the kids to another room. The fire alarm had also started going off by this point.

Finally it dawned on me to turn off the stove and remove the pot, so I did and headed to the backdoor to take it outside. Just as I made it to the door, I thought I saw the doughnut light up out the corner of my eye, but the flame went out quickly.

After mulling over what to do with my pot of ridiculous hot oil and charred doughnut hole, I decided to dump the contents over the back porch onto the ground. Fortunately, the ground was wet from the rain, so no more flames happened.

When I went back inside, it was pretty smoky. Little Man came running in with a bag over his head, calling it his breathing mask.

My husband took the kids down to his mom’s house for a couple of hours to give the house time to air out. When they came back, they made a big deal about being able to breathe again and gave me a lot of shit over the whole thing.

It was hard to be too annoyed with them since they were making a reference to The Office.

So, now you know the story of the time I almost burnt the house down trying to make doughnuts. You also know why I rarely fry foods and why I will always avoid jobs where I need to make split-second decisions.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Advertisements

Ways My Husband Is Rocking Fatherhood

On Friday I listed some of the ways that I’m rocking motherhood. Today — Father’s Day in the U.S. — it’s my husband’s turn to be in the spotlight. I’m going to share a few (of the many) ways that he rocks, plus include a couple of examples from the kids.

He is the king of impromptu dance parties. My husband will break into song and dance at a moment’s notice. Location does not matter — home, a friend’s house, the checkout line at Walmart…all have served as temporary dance clubs for him hundreds of times. I’m not gonna lie — sometimes I find this embarrassing depending on where we are and what’s going on. But you know what? He teaches our kids to be spontaneous, to live in the moment, and do what makes them happy. The kids love it and join in while their curmudgeon mom watches.

His mama bear mode is downright scary. Of the two of us, he’s definitely the one who’ll go mama bear on someone if he thinks they have wronged his kids, no matter how minor the transgression is. My husband is the shoot first (by “shoot” I mean ready to rip into someone) and ask questions later sort. Do. Not. Mess. With. His. Kids. Sometimes this is comical — especially when one of the injustices the kids claim to have suffered is total bullshit — but I know they’ll always take comfort in knowing they’ve got someone who will be in their corner no matter what.

He never scorches the grits. Certain individuals in this household — cough, myself — have a tendency to burn things. Not my husband. When you have a child who is the queen of picky eaters, it’s pretty important that the foods she will eat actually be edible (and not turn her off from eating them in the future). So it sounds silly, but he never scorches my daughter’s favorite food in the world — grits. He always makes them perfect, and he even discovered that he can scramble an egg and mash it up just so to add it in to sneak extra protein to Baby Girl.

He’s a big kid at heart. No one rocks play time better than my husband. I enjoy playing with my kids, but I’ll admit that there are some things that I just barely tolerate. That’s not the case with him, though. Whether they’re playing with the Peppa Pig figures, cars, or something mind-numbing like Candyland, he always gets into it. He’s a master of voices and sound effects, and the joy he takes in playing with his children is simply beautiful.

And now for some input from the kids:

“He holds me.” I fully expected Baby Girl to say something about popsicles or ice cream when I asked her what her favorite thing about her daddy is, but this is what she chose. As safe as I find his arms, I can only imagine the comfort her tiny little self must find in them.

“He’s the best at cuddles.” This one is from Little Man — apparently my husband reigns supreme at the holding people game!

Happy Father’s Day to my husband and to all of the other loving, involved fathers and father figures out there!

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

#RockingMotherhood Challenge

Right now you’re probably thinking, “What kind of awful person writes a post about how she’s rocking the mom thing two days before Father’s Day? Thunder thief!” Well, no, you probably aren’t thinking that at all (unless your name is Monica Geller), but I needed to start this post off with something, and that works well enough.

So, now that the awkward opening paragraph is out of the way, I’d like to say thanks to Crystal who blogs at The Messy Truth of Mommyhood for including me in the #RockingMotherhood Challenge! Her blog is nothing short of awesome, and I encourage you to check it out.

The goal of this challenge is to list ten ways that you rock at motherhood, which is easier said than done, so you’ll get a mix of seriousness and silliness. Here goes…

I’ve got mad monster detecting skills. When Little Man was younger, he went through that phase of being scared of monsters being in his closet. We’re Lord of the Rings fans, so to allay his concerns, I got out my Sting replica sword. If you’re not a LOTR person, know that Sting was the sword (well, dagger, technically) that Frodo carried. Whenever orcs (big baddies) were nearby, the sword glowed blue to warn Frodo. I walked around Little Man’s bedroom and showed him that since my sword wasn’t glowing, there weren’t any monsters. It worked.

The kids are fed every day. Do I make cutesy foods? No — I’m pretty sure that I’d fail so badly that it’d make them less likely to eat their food. Do I burn the shit out of food? Sometimes — there was the flaming donuts incident. My food might not be artistic or non-scorched or exceptionally nutritious, but they do have full bellies — despite their claims of starvation directly before bedtime.

My kisses have healing powers. It doesn’t matter how bad the fall is, a kiss from their mommy makes everything better. Little Man might be getting older, but even he still finds comfort in a little peck on a banged up arm.

I can withstand certain methods of torture. Sleep deprivation. Eating at McDonald’s. Being forced to listen to the same song thousands of time. This is not an exaggeration — Baby Girl had had two “nighttime songs” for the past almost three years that help her go to sleep. One of those songs has been on repeat for most of the past two years for at least 20 minutes per night.

I teach them. I worked as an English teacher for one year before having Little Man. I used to say that I wouldn’t go back to teaching, but the joke’s on me — I never truly left. I teach kids every single day. Sure, that’s my job as a parent, but it’s one that I definitely rock. There are some things I wish I wouldn’t have taught them (like how to burp the alphabet), but as long as I can teach them self-love, it’ll more than even out.

My ninja skills are off the charts. So, I might not have the best sense of balance or be able to use nunchucks without hitting myself in the face (FYI — toy nunchucks hurt worse than toy swords), but I can totally dodge some puke. And even if I do catch some spatter, I’m usually quick enough to grab a towel or bucket or shift the kid away from me so that they aren’t going total Exorcist girl on me.

We laugh a lot in our household. Little Man once told me that while I’m not as funny as Dory in Finding Nemo, that I’m hilarious. Thanks, I guess? (No really, thanks — Almost Dory Funny is pretty damn good.) Laughing and cutting up is the norm for us, but let me tell you, being able to make your kids laugh is a great weapon to have in your parenting arsenal. Many meltdowns have happened in our home, but many meltdowns have always been avoided thanks to my goofy faces.

Yeah, Disney ain’t calling me anytime soon.

I encourage them to be creative. Sometimes that backfires a bit when Little Man comes home talking about using stuff on the playground to try to make weapons, but creativity is definitely valued in our home.

I have two little stalkers. This one is my husband’s. I asked him for some input, and after saying a few sweet things, he mentioned this one. “Surely that has to count for rocking motherhood,” he told me. Despite all the things I feel that I do wrong every day, I still have two little shadows who want to hang out with me in the bathroom after Taco Bell wreaks havoc on my intestines. That tells me I’m doing something right.

My kids are very compassionate. There’s no joke tied to this one. Teaching our kids to be compassionate to others is one of the most important things we can do as parents, and my kids regularly show compassion to others. This one isn’t so much #RockingMotherhood as it is #RockingParenthood.

Bonus:

The kids have great taste in music. My children have each had a Hanson song that had to be on repeat in the car this week. As a Hanson fan who won’t call herself a Fanson, but does have a Hanson Fan Club membership card in her desk drawer, this makes me happy. I’m pretty sure their dad wouldn’t say I’m rocking motherhood for this one. (For the record, they also like The Beatles, Radiohead, Weezer, and much more.)

Again, thanks to Crystal for including me on this challenge. I hope some of you other mom will participate and that some of you dads who are clearly rocking fatherhood will write the ways you’re #RockingFatherhood, especially with Father’s Day around the corner.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Bad Mommy (Blogger)

A few days ago, Little Man and I went out for dinner after his Parkour class. We got to talking to someone at the restaurant when he sort of bragged that his mom is a blogger. We were talking about Star Wars stuff, and after bragging that his whole family is a bunch of nerds, he backed that up by mentioning my blog.

The girl didn’t look terribly impressed. “Mommy blogger?” she asked with a hint of derision. (Okay, maybe that derision was imagined, but she definitely wasn’t impressed.)

“Eh. Something like that.” I’m not much of a mom blogger since you won’t get advice or read anything introspective here.

Little Man wasn’t feeling the eh, though. “She draws these AMAZING doodles! And they’re so funny!” he bragged.

I felt a surge of pride — here is my almost tween bragging about his mom to a complete stranger. It might not be anything bragworthy to other adults, and is light years away from being amazing, but I’ll sure as hell take it.

And then he added a warning:

Maybe one day I’ll draw decent arms.

No, he didn’t read the post where I mentioned a certain word being my favorite, but I have shared a few posts with him. (I usually just show him the doodles, though.) My use of “damn” or “hell” or whatever it was certainly didn’t get past him. Then again, this is the child who commented, “They said two cuss words” after watching The Force Awakens, so I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s keeping a running tally for my blog.

(Is this what he talks about on the playground? Other kids talk about their moms doing crafts and stuff and Little Man talks about his cussing not-quite-a-mommy-blogger mom.)

I’ll take my Mom of the Year Award now.

Thanks for the promotion, Little Man. I think.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here. (Maybe that last once should be omitted for the post where I claim I’m not a mom blogger. Hmm.)

I’m Not Awesome

It’s been a long week. I’m pretty sure that any week following a vacation would feel long, but there has been a lot going on this week. We were on the go nearly every day this week, much to the dismay of my wannabe hermit 9-year-old (although he definitely had his share of fun), and even when we were at home, downtime hasn’t happened much. As such, today’s post is going to be short and definitely sweet.

One day last week, Baby Girl did something that prompted her dad to heap praise upon her. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was, but her reaction certainly stood out.

My husband informed her that she could be — and was — both.

(By the way — Baby Girl was looking over my shoulder while I did today’s doodle. She had one request: for me to draw her pooping. I declined. I will, however, be continuing the Bulba Chronicles next week. Yes, there has been enough talk lately to deserve more doodles and to be upgraded to “Chronicles.”)

Have a good weekend!

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Vacation Expectations vs. Reality

Another family vacation bites the dust. As I mentioned in another post, we went back to Myrtle Beach and spent several nights at a fun resort. (“Fun resort” means there were water slides and splash pads for the kids and a poolside bar for the parents.) There were no major hiccups while we were away, every day was either overcast or sunny, and Baby Girl’s in-restaurant meltdowns were fewer than in the past. Winning!

Now we’re trying to get back into the swing of things. The luggage is mostly unpacked and put away, which is a step up from in the past, when I ignored a suitcase full of stuff for more than a week. (No, I’m not going to specify how long.) I’m also trying to organize all of our summer activities, plan Baby Girl’s birthday party, and catch up on dozens of blog posts. And there’s the matter of my own blog, of course. I’m sure some of y’all are in withdrawal mode, going without a Dorky Mom post for over a week. (And some of y’all might be thinking, “Back so soon?” Hehe.)

Since I know y’all are chomping at the bit for some details, I’ll give you a few. And I’ll save some for later, as my kids definitely gave me more material for this blog.

Here goes.

Remember when I posted about the odd — but not really bad — sunburn I got a couple weeks ago? Despite sunscreen and an umbrella, I got a weird sunburn on my leg. Odd, but no biggie. This vacation — despite plenty of preventative measures — I got the real deal of sunburns.

Yes, the most aspire to is a few splotchy tanned areas and red cheeks.

I made the mistake of not wearing my cover-up for a while and got a nasty burn on my chest. Other parts of me were dark pink/reddish and this part was more of a Merlot color it was so dark. The worst part (aside what legit feels like nerve pain in that area)? I got a nice reminder of how my body is doing gravity-wise when I take off my bra. You ladies know what I’m talking about. I think. Every damn shift or sway, I not only get a nice jolt of pain, but also get reminded that things ain’t where they once was. (Channeling my inner country girl on that last bit.)

Non-gravity defying breasts aside, let’s talk about what a kid should be excited about when going on vacation. Little Man counts down the days until he gets to get on water slides, body board in the ocean, and dig in the sand. Baby Girl gets excited about something different.

Before we went on vacation, I asked Baby Girl what she wanted to do at the beach.

“See the ice cream man!” she answered. I was rather impressed with her memory of getting ice cream at the beach a year ago, but that wasn’t quite what I was going for. True to her word, though, this is what she looked forward to every single day.

Spend hundreds of dollars on a vacation for the kid to care about a sweet treat that costs two bucks.

“I gonna see the ice cream man today?” she’d ask after waking up in the morning. The same question would be repeated twenty minutes later, after breakfast, in between breakfast and lunch, during lunch, etc. And finally the music from the ice cream truck would play and her dad would take her to pick something out.

And, I kid you not, if you ask her what kind of ice cream she had on vacation, Baby Girl will tell you all five of the different types of cones and popsicles she had. Again, her memory is most impressive.

Now for the last vacation expectation vs. reality. Since Baby Girl is getting older, there are certain things I expect of her — namely not eating poop or crapping in the tub. Anything gross that’s related to poop, really. I’ve been pooped on in the tub a few times, but now she tells us if she has to go. As Little Man would say, “Thank Zeus!” As such, I expect the same from her when swimming. Water’s water, so give us a head’s up so we can head to the bathroom, right?

Wrong.

Just a reminder — the squiggly marks on me are from sunburn, not poop.

She did tell me about the poop — after the fact. Just as I stood her up on the edge of the pool to jump in for a cannonball, she told me that she had pooped. Sure enough, when I glanced down at her crotch area, I saw watery streams of poop coming out. For the record, she was wearing a Little Swimmer diaper, but it was no match for Baby Girl’s bowels. I’ll spare you the details from there, but just know that some beach towels were ruined and that I had to avoid eye contact with people.

All in all, it was a great trip. We spent the majority of our time either by the water or in the water, which is what it’s all about for me. In the past, it has been a challenge to get Baby Girl to even touch the sand or ocean water without tears, so it was awesome to see her work her way up to digging in it a little and splashing around. As Borat would say, “Great success!”

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Family Vacation

The family and I are headed to Myrtle Beach tomorrow morning. Well, the plan is to head out tomorrow morning, but if I know my slow, disorganized family well at all, then we probably won’t make it out the door until after lunchtime. Drama over how many toys a child is allowed to bring will almost surely happen. If we’re lucky, though, maybe we’ll remember to bring our underwear, bras, and swimsuits. Somehow those things always get left behind and a trip to Target is necessary. Sometimes I think my husband believes I intentionally forget things just so we can stop at Target, but that isn’t the case.

Those of you who read my post about my and my husband’s anniversary trip know that we had a relaxing time at Myrtle Beach a week and a half ago. It was amazing. No “I hate the water!” or “I hate the sand!” or “Hey, I’ve got poops!” to get in the way of relaxation. (Well, no poops that I had to manage, anyway.)

This coming week will be different. Very different. I have no doubt that we’ll have an amazing time and make some wonderful memories, but y’all know how it is with little kids. They’ll try their damnedest to make sure relaxing doesn’t happen and make sure the bags under your eyes pre-vacation are twice as big post-vacation. Mama’s got an umbrella drink? Let’s get sand in it. Daddy’s trying to listen to music for a few minutes? Let’s get sand on him. We’re all nice and clean and ready to go out for a good meal? Let’s get sand coordinate meltdowns of epic proportions so Mom and Dad get to do the walk of shame and haul us out.

Remember this?

Things are definitely gonna change.

Bye bye, relaxation.

Bye bye, voodoo juice bucket (most likely).

Okay, maybe the shade and the beach bag won’t really disappear, but only crossing out one or two things wasn’t as dramatic.

Hello, family vacation.

And hello, judgmental strangers.

Not pictured is the fishing rod and net that Little Man wants to bring. I imagine that he’ll inspire a doodle with those.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

The Buns and Guns Challenge

I don’t have buns.

I don’t have guns.

And I most certainly don’t have abs.

But, I am told that I could have these things if I complete a 30-day challenge called Buns, Guns, and Abs Challenge. Considering that my rapper name is Fluff Mama and that I’m too heavy to fly like Wonder Woman, I’m pretty sure that no 30-day challenge will make these mythical muscles appear, but stranger things have happened.

My husband is the one who asked me to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge. (I think we can all agree that the challenge sounds better when you leave out the word “abs.”) We’re attempting to lose weight make better lifestyle choices, and part of that includes doing things that the Couch Potato Olympics Committee frowns upon — moving.

Not moving equals happiness to sloth-like creatures.

A couple days ago, my husband approached me about the challenge. After talking about exercises and muscles for a few minutes, which I mostly tuned out, he told me, “The first day is easy. And then it goes up a little in intensity each day. Want to do it with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, without one iota of enthusiasm. I really just wanted him to stop naming muscles, plus he did say that it started out easy.

Easy.

Ha.

I’m 33. By now I’ve been around the block enough times that I should know that any time I think, “That sounds easy enough,” that it won’t be. Baking brownies out of the box — easy, right? Unless you’re me. Tying a basic braid in my daughter’s hair, walking, parking in an empty lot, and applying eyeliner also aren’t easy. Despite my best efforts, my body is determined to make me look like a spaz whenever possible.

On the first night of the challenge, my husband told me that I had to do ten squats, ten push-ups, and ten leg lifts. That really does sound easy. It should be easy. I thought, “Yeah, I got this.” A few squats later, I found out that I definitely didn’t have this.

Before getting pregnant with Baby Girl, I did a HIIT workout while trying to lose weight. (If you’re not the math sort, Baby Girl is almost three, so between that and 9 months of pregnancy, that means that the last time I did this was almost four years ago.) Anyway, I killed the squats back then. But not that night. My thighs and knees — which are certainly used to getting up and down all day long — betrayed me.

My legs were like…

Admittedly, this looks more like I’m dancing a jig than doing squats.

(Since I started writing this post and completed another day of the challenge, my husband has pointed out that I was doing the squats wrong and was doing them in a way that made it more difficult. Doing them right was easier, so that makes me feel a little better.)

Next were the leg lifts. They seemed pretty easy until my husband told me to lift slowly, hold my legs in place, and lower them slowly — apparently flailing your legs all over the place doesn’t count. Doing them right involved using my nonexistent core muscles, so after five of those, my core was like…

The last part was push-ups. I have always sucked at push-ups, even when I was at a perfectly normal weight (as I discovered many years later) and fairly athletic. My arms just do not like pushing up my body for some reason. They don’t like pulling up my body, either, so chin-ups in gym class back in the day didn’t happen much, either. Heaven forbid I fall face first into a pile of snow one day, because I guarantee that unless my body gets one of those “lift the car off the child” adrenaline rushes, I’ll perish.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, the whole time I did those push-ups, my arms were like…

(Despite my history with push-ups and my arms cursing me, they were the easiest part of the challenge on that day, so maybe all that hauling around Baby Girl has done my arms some good.)

When we were finished my husband pulled out his phone and showed me the rest of the challenge. He told me that by the end of 30 days, I’ll be able to do 100 squats, 40 push-ups, and 100 leg lifts. We’ll see. For the record, we won’t see in 30 days, since I’m sticking with day one for a few more days to work on my form, so maybe in 100 days we’ll see.

Want to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge? Knock yourself out. (Also, zoom in, because I started writing smaller halfway through for some reason.)

So, are you in? Or do you want to retain the right to make self-depracating jokes about your fluffy body?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Questions, Questions, Questions

Today I’m taking a break from doodles and will be answering some questions that were asked as part of a blog award deal.

First off — thanks to Eric at All In A Dad’s Work and Katherine at Welcome to the Nursery for nominating me for the Liebster Award. And thanks to Steve at Steve Still Standing for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award. It is much appreciated, and if you aren’t following these blogs already, then I suggest you click those links and do so. 🙂

I don’t usually do blog awards these days — although I definitely appreciate the thought — but I do have fun answering the questions. As such, I’m going to ignore all the award rules and focus on the questions that were asked.

First, the questions from Eric.

1. How do you re-energize?

I’m an introvert, so I have to find some time to myself to re-energize. Going out and being around people is draining — hell, being around my two children who talk incessantly is draining — so I need to find a quiet space and be alone with my thoughts to get back to normal.

2. What yearly salary would you consider “living comfortably”?

Hmm. Probably around $110,000. We can and do live on less, but hitting that number would give us the bump to pad our savings and to not have to worry about much of anything.

3. If you met Mother Theresa, what would you ask her?

“How do we get people to have more compassion?”

4. What ice cream flavor do you think your personality is like?

I never know how to answer this question, so I’m doing an ice cream flavor quiz to find out. Feel free to join me on this one.

I got vanilla. You’re tried and true, but far from plain. It’s the little things in life that make you happy — a good book, a nice day, or just spending time with the family. Yours is a life of utter content. I’d agree with that.

5. If your car had a super power, what super power would you like it to have?

To get to school on time, regardless of when we leave, so that my kid isn’t always getting tardies.

6. Do you have a plan for your blog for the long run?

Mostly just keep building it. I’d love to take some of the experiences I have with my kids and make a book out of it one day.

7. Is there a word you avoid using? A word you don’t like?

I don’t like words that are used for the sole purpose of being hurtful to someone.

8. Do you have a favorite word?

I love “fuck.” I don’t use it much on this blog or around most people so as not to offend (hey family members who read this blog — see the sacrifice I’m making?), but I love using it. It’s so versatile. I’m also a fan of most other curse words. Again, I try to be careful depending on who I’m around. And for anyone who might be inclined to say that cursing must mean someone doesn’t have anything to say or has a low intelligence, I’ll leave this right here. 😉

9. If we communicated by playing musical instruments, what instrument would you communicate with?

A kazoo. They’re so much fun!

10. Is there a time when something didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to, but in the end you were glad that it didn’t?

My life, I suppose. I was supposed to teach several years, get my master’s, and then have kids, but I ended up getting pregnant quickly after graduating from college/getting married (I graduated on week and got married two weeks later). The first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, but it made me realize how badly I wanted a kid and we got pregnant soon thereafter with Little Man. Sometimes I wish that things had gone according to original plan so we would’ve gotten off to a better start financially and so I’d have had a career (instead of just one year teaching and a bunch of freelance stuff for several years). But I wouldn’t be where I am now with the kids that I have now, so NO RAGRETS.

11. What’s the best piece of advice you would give a new blogger?

Find your voice. It’ll make you stand out from the crowd.

Now for the questions from Katherine.

1. What would you say you are best at?

Making people laugh. Sometimes it’s intentional and sometimes it’s not, but I can usually get a chuckle out of people.

2. What are you worst at?

Sticking with things. For reasons, I’ll start a project or work on a personal goal and be all gung-ho about it, and then that interest completely drops off and I’m done.

3. Say you can move anywhere in the country right now – where would you go?

Ashville, North Carolina. Mountains, close enough to the coast, only a three-hour drive from family, and — most importantly — it’d be cooler and less humid than where I am now.

4. Say you can move anywhere in the world right now – where would you go?

Sticking with my “cooler and less humid” mindset, northwest Spain. A quick Google search for “best climate” says that the summer temperatures rarely get outside of the 60s and 70s and that winter temperatures are usually in the 40s and 50s. This sounds like perfection.

5. What’s the longest piece of writing you’ve done? What was it for?

I have several half-finished books on my computer. (See question #2.) Outside of personal writing, I’m pretty sure there was a long paper — maybe 15 pages — due before graduating. That was 11 years ago, so my memory is fuzzy on the details.

6. Can you stand on your head? Your hands?

I can barely stand on two feet at times, so standing otherwise is out of the question.

7. If you could be an Olympic athlete, what sport would you choose?

I should probably go with something like gymnastics or swimming, since that’d mean being fit and all that, but I’m going with Ping pong. I’m pretty good at it, but the last time I played with my husband, he beat me and gloated about it. If I were good enough to be in the Olympics, then I’d surely kick his ass every time we play.

8. Ghosts – real or figments of our imagination?

I don’t believe ghosts exist in the traditional sense.

9. What’s in your heaven?

My family, books, good food, and no humidity.

10. If you were only allowed two condiments from now til death, what would you choose?

Ketchup and soy sauce.

11. Would you rather live in a desert or a rainforest?

Rainforest.

Since I’m only doing the questions, I won’t be listing any facts about myself (I can barely think of five interesting things to say about myself, let alone 29 in total!), nor will I be nominating anyone. I will, however, invite anyone who made it to the end of this post to pick a couple questions from above and answer them below.

Active Volcanoes

Sometimes Little Man and I play a game of sorts where we try to one-up each  other. For example, I’ll tell him that I want to hug him so hard his eyes pop out. And he’ll counter that with, “Well, I want to hug you so hard that your intestines come out of your mouth.”

Yes, he usually wins.

And, yes, we’re dorks.

We typically deadpan our comments to each other, which can make things more interesting if we’re out in public. If you were the casual observer and overheard some our conversations, then you’d probably be a bit shocked. You might even be tempted to call CPS, and you’d most definitely shoot a look of disgust at us. (Can you tell that we’ve been there and done that last part a few times?) For the sake of not having dirty looks shot at my blog, I’ll leave those conversations out for now.

Today’s doodle shows our most recent one-up exchange. This one won’t appall you and is rather sappy, but he one-ups me all the same.

He definitely wins. And he didn’t even make a comment about Anakin’s face burning off in the lava, which was surprising since that comes up more often than it probably should.

Is there anything that causes people to give you odd looks when you’re out?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here