The Long Vomit

If you’re planning to eat anytime soon — or are eating at the moment — save this post for later.

It has been a week since my last post, but no worries — I have not succumbed to fingernail jaundice. I’ve been dealing with lots of puke and two parties, and the two were not connected like they would’ve been in my college days.

It all started at midnight on Wednesday (well, technically Thursday). I was sitting in the living room waiting for my husband to come home from a Willie Nelson concert when Little Man ran into the living room. His wide eyes darted around in a sheer panic. Before I could ask what was the matter, he raised his hand to his mouth, and I knew. He dashed over to the trash can, but before I could yell, “The trash can is full [because I don’t like stinky things and I’m waiting on your dad to get home and empty it],” it happened. Puke everywhere.

I once described one of Baby Girl’s vomiting sessions as being like the nasty little girl in The Exorcist, but Little Man put them both to shame. If projectile vomiting were an Olympic sport, I think he’d have taken home the gold. He covered close to eight feet of my kitchen (including the trash can, island, and stuff on top of the island) with his vileness, which took me 1.5 episodes of Parks and Recreation (which he started watching while waiting to see if his stomach was settled before returning to bed) to clean.

Forget the Long Jump, we’ve got the Long Vomit.

I was hoping that it was something he’d eaten, since we had Baby Girl’s birthday weekend coming up, but it wasn’t. Not long after asking Baby Girl where she wanted to eat that night on Friday morning (her answers included “a wedding” and “chicky chicka,” a restaurant she made up), she covered me from head to toe with vomit. I jumped in the shower while my husband ran a bath to clean her off when I heard a blood curdling scream. I stuck my head out to ask what was wrong.

(I really hope you guys took my advice and aren’t eating right now.)

That wouldn’t be the last time we were puked on, as Baby Girl had an aversion to throwing up in the bucket we kept nearby. She informed me that she didn’t like throwing up in it, but wanted to throw up on ME. Just…what the hell did I do in a former life to deserve this?

Thankfully, like her brother, she was over the worst of it in about eight hours, and we didn’t have to cancel her birthday plans for the following evening. She spent her last day as a three-year-old snoozing in my arms between throw-up sessions. The puke sucked, of course, but I really enjoyed holding her all day and evening. It was like when I brought her home from the hospital again, except for instead of weighing five pounds, she weighed 30.

The rest of her birthday weekend went well. She had a Justice League themed birthday party, which was great, outside of The Pinata Incident. (Let’s just say that one should probably not take apart a t-ball set and give kids the adjustable tee to use to hit the pinata, as the adjustable part can go flying and hit one’s husband.)

So long, toddler years — they’re officially behind us, since we won’t be having anymore kids thanks to the snip-snip-sniparoo. Baby Girl should probably get a new blog nickname at this point (and so should Little Man, since he’s not so little anymore), but Little Woman and Medium Size Man don’t have quite the same ring to them.

 

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Happy Father’s Day: #MyDadChallenge

In honor of Mother’s Day last month, I created the #MyMomChallenge, where I asked my kids a bunch of questions and recorded their answers. Since today is Father’s Day (and since Eric at All In A Dad’s Work reminded me by doing his own), I’m doing the same Q&A with my kids for their dad.

And here we go…

1. My dad is _____ years old and weighs _____ pounds.

Little Man: 40; 200
Baby Girl: 5; 4

2. My dad is good at cooking _____ and is not so good at cooking _____.

Little Man: hamburgers; nothing
Baby Girl: pizza for you and me; I don’t know

3. If my dad were a superhero, his name would be ______ and his superpower would be _____.

Little Man: The Human Dad; taking people around the neighborhood
Baby Girl: Spiderman; shooting webs

4. And if my dad were a villain, his name would be ______ and he would use his evil powers to _____.

Little Man: The Hacker; getting on Facebook when his son is playing Minecraft
Baby Girl: Joker; do bad things to superheroes

5. I love it when my dad______.

Little Man: hugs me
Baby Girl: hugs me and kisses me

6. When my dad is driving, he_________.

Little Man: uses one hand
Baby Girl: holds on to the steering wheel and turns it like this (imitates steering)

7. I like it when my dad _______ and I don’t like it when my dad _________.

Little Man: plays video games with me; says “no screens”
Baby Girl: watches TV with me; be’s mean

8. My dad does not like to _______.

Little Man: wipe my hiney
Baby Girl: read me books when he’s working

9. My dad does ________ the best and _________ the worst.

Little Man: buying good watermelons; playing video games (I always beat him)
Baby Girl: cook fish sticks and cheesy tater tots; I don’t know

10. I’m thankful for my dad because ___________.

Little Man: He’s the best
Baby Girl: I love him

Those last two answers, though. All the feels.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads/father figures out there! And a special Happy Father’s Day to my husband, who sets the bar super high when it comes to his daddy game.

Feel free to join the Q&A! I know Father’s Day is almost over, but don’t let that stop you from recording your kids’ answers. It’ll be nice to have these written down (or blogged) so you can repeat them each year and compare their answers. Even if you’re an adult, your dad will enjoy it. (My kids did a version of this as a Father’s Day card for their dad, and since I forgot to buy a card for my dad, I did the same for him, and he seemed to love it, even though I am 34.) If you do join in, please tag me or add the link to the comment so I can check out your post.

No, That Isn’t A Popsicle

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


Originally posted in April of 2017…

My kids go by the “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine” rule.

My food? Also their food, even if I have the same thing that they have. My radio? Obviously theirs. My Playstation? Well, you get the picture. I say “no” sometimes, but “yes” is far more prevalent since they’re a) my offspring and b) cute. (My husband, though? You better bet that “no” accompanied with other not-so-nice words happens when he tries to get a bite of my steak or swipes one of my ice-cold Cokes.)

I’m used to sharing, but there’s one thing that I thought would remain mine and mine alone, for at least a decade, and that’s feminine hygiene products. However, since both of my children are like dehydrated people in deserts who see mirages of water everywhere in cartoons, the kids see candy everywhere and have tried to make me share my Aunt Flo-inators as well.

Note to Baby Girl: this is the first red flag that you need help with your popsicle addiction.

Now Little Man won’t think the fact that he’s called me “Mommy” is the most damaging thing I’ve posted online anymore.

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Reasons The Toddler Is Pissed

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


Originally published in May of 2017…

If you look up “temperamental” in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure that you’d find a picture of a toddler next to it. Maybe even my toddler.

Oh, wait…

How about that? I wasn’t exaggerating after all!

True to the definition of temperamental, one minute Baby Girl is happy. The next she’s mad. Sometimes she’s mad over the reason that originally made her happy, which is confusing as hell and makes the whole “navigating parenting” thing much more difficult. Other times she’s ticked off for reasons that should never tick anyone off, ever. And, occasionally, there are times when she’s pissed for reasons that are beyond me.

Here are a few of the reasons she might be mad on any given day —

I have four younger brothers and sisters, so I get #1 — I completely understand what it’s like for a look from a sibling cause someone to see red. I don’t understand why, but I do know that it happens and isn’t just a Baby Girl thing. Even worse than looking at each other is looking at an object the other sibling is playing with/using with interest — this causes a reaction akin to road rage in children.

And for the record, with #3 — we’re talking about milk that has been sitting out for maybe ten minutes. The cup is still cool to the touch. I’m not a monster who makes kids drink warm milk. Cold milk is gross enough to me, but warm milk? “Disgusting!” to use Baby Girl’s new favorite word.

I mostly don’t get the others on that list. Especially #4. Who wants to go around wearing a shitty diaper? It makes her butt red and itchy, which she also complains about. Use. The. Potty. (And use it regularly enough that I can say stop saying “potty” in a sweet, high-pitched voice that is supposed to make you take interest in it.)

What are some funny things your kids get mad over?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or Bloglovin.

Top 5 Songs For Migraines

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen. I’ll catch up with comments and your blog posts when I get back.


Originally published in March of 2017…

For a time as a parent, I didn’t have to listen to crappy music. (My husband would say, “Wait, that’s not true because you love Hanson,” which I’d ignore while pitying him for not embracing their greatness.) When Little Man came along, we didn’t play much kiddie music. We stuck to our Beatles, Radiohead, Ben Folds, Weezer, Hanson (obviously I’ve got to mention them again), etc. He loved it all and we didn’t have to listen to cheesy crap sang in high-pitched voices, so all was right in the world. Even the music for the TV shows he watched was tolerable.

All was good in our parenting world for about six years, and then things changed.

Baby Girl came along. While she likes some of our music (especially Radiohead’s No Surprises, which has been on repeat every night for much of the past two and a half years), she prefers the cheesy kids’ songs. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Five Little Monkeys. If You’re Happy And You Know It. Apples and Bananas. Itsy Bitsy Freaking Spider. And, despite having a playlist for her to shuffle through those songs, she usually picks one and wants it on repeat for the entire car ride. I get kinda road ragey as it is, but after the tenth time of listening to Itsy Bitsy Freaking Spider, all it takes for me to start cursing under my breath is for someone to put their signal light on at 90 feet out instead of 100 feet.

And then there are the songs or theme music on shows on YouTube and TV that both kids like. I liked the music on Thomas and Friends, Sid the Science Kid, and The Cat in the Hat Knows A Lot About That. The current shows they both watch? For the most part, just no. God no.

Aaaand, thanks to the newish car with satellite radio, Little Man has discovered Kidz Bop, also known as Music Hell. Kidz Bop is where they take popular music and ruin it. Much of the popular music is kind of bad already, but then they take it and make it worse with the crappy singing and such. And Little Man, the child we once bragged about for having excellent taste in music, loves Kidz Bop. (To be fair, he still likes a lot of great stuff, but Kidz Bop has tarnished his reputation.)

I’ve compiled a short list of songs that are driving me nuts right now. It could be longer. A lot longer. But there’s the matter of my laziness and the fact that y’all probably don’t want a doodled list of 1841 songs that are driving me nuts, so I cut it to five.

What song is likely to give you a headache if you have to hear it again?

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5 Times My Kids Make Me Want To Drink

You’ve seen the game; now check out the stories behind the game! 

If any of their grandparents are reading this, I know what they’re thinking right now — “Those sweet, innocent little angels would never do anything to make someone want to drink, you terrible asshole.” Okay, maybe they wouldn’t add “terrible asshole,” but they would definitely be adamant that my children are perfect little babies. That’s one of the perks of being a grandparent — you can know full well that your grandkids are mini terrorists at times, but you think they’re perfect anyway.

I adore my kiddos, of course. They’re sweet, kind, funny, clever, and a hundred other good things. But, despite all of their positive traits, they also have the tendency to occasionally make their parents consider taking up day drinking. Maybe even morning drinking. Here are a few reasons why:

1. Tattling

I’ve mentioned before that I thought the nearly 6.5 year gap between Little Man and Baby Girl would guarantee certain things — like no fighting. I also thought that tattling would be something that wouldn’t be a big deal, or one-sided, if anything.

No.

My kids tattle on each other constantly. Little Man tattled on Baby Girl before she could even walk. Baby Girl tattled on Little Man before she could even talk.

I hate the tattling with the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. I also feel bad for the parents of both of my blended families (four kids in the first and five in the second), because I’m sure whatever tattling annoyances I’m experiencing was far worse.

They tattle over dirty looks. They tattle over someone touching a toy or book that they were not using and hadn’t used in forever. They tattle over name calling. Even when one kid calls names first and the other retorts with the same, the kid that lobbed the first insult will tattle. Baby Girl is probably the pettiest of tattlers, because she will tattle over Little Man for looking at the TV while she’s watching it.

Want a drink yet?

2. Interrupting My Bath

For the record, a full post on this reason to drink is forthcoming. It happens that often.

There’s nothing I enjoy more than getting in an almost scalding hot tub with a good book and having a nice soak. These enjoyable soaks are few and far between now, though, thanks to the kids. The little one sobs wanting to join me. The older one comes in demanding help with homework or wanting to pick my brain about something that happened at school. The really old one (I’m looking at you, hubby) comes in to tell me the kids aren’t listening.

Interruptions. Interruptions, galore! And forget locking the door — if Little Man doesn’t use his library card to open the lock, Baby Girl will attempt to break it down.

The most annoying of the interruptions is when the kids come in to ask me to do something that a) I can’t do BECAUSE I’M IN THE TUB and b) they could’ve either done themselves or asked their dad to help with.

3. Destroying My House

It’s a rare thing that my house is clean and organized. I try, but most days I only whittle away at fixing the disaster zone that is our home. Sometimes, though, the moon and stars align and the house is perfect — so perfect that someone could knock on my door and I’d gladly invite them in instead of making them stand on the porch. (Yes, I will absolutely do that…so call first!)

Everyone knows that it’s in a kid’s DNA to destroy things — especially clean houses. (If your kid is neat and tidy and never spills anything, then you’ve simply lucked out with a gene mutation.) So even though I know that the kids are going to mess things up, it still makes me die inside to watch it happen.

4. When They Won’t Eat My Food

I know that I sound like the biggest hypocrite in the world right now. The picky eater who drove her grandmother crazy, who has friends who will make her something special when she eats at their home, who is a self-admitted shitty cook is griping about her kids not eating her food. But this is different, I promise!

You see, I am totally sympathetic to the plight of the picky eater, so I have no problem with whipping up something extra to make sure Baby Girl has something she likes. While I do try to get her to vary her food options, I’m also not gonna complain about being a short order cook. This isn’t what makes me want to drink.

This is:

It’s. Exactly. What. You. Asked. For. EAT. IT.

5. When They Watch Crappy TV Shows

The experts all caution against letting your kids have too much screen time because it will melt their brains or something. They neglect to mention that screen time can be dangerous for parents, too, as certain programs will make the parents want to give themselves a lobotomy. Sure, it’s nice to turn on the the TV and let them watch a show while we do dishes, fold clothes, or cry in the closet, but some of those shows are rough.

I used to be super picky about what Little Man watched on TV. “Nothing but PBS cartoons for my son!” since I hated Spongebob just as much as I hate tattling. When he got a little older, he got more free reign with age appropriate shows, and that’s when I discovered just how awful children’s programming can be. I’ve had to sit through Pokemon, Slugterra, and Lab Rats. With Baby Girl, I’ve caught parts of Peppa Pig and Mother Goose Club. (Pretty much everything on PBS kids is still amazing, outside of Caillou, though.) We have a fairly small house and they watch their shows in the living room, so it’s hard to escape.

But, yeah, that stuff totally makes me want to drink. And seeing Peppa and her family collapse in the floor every other episode makes me want a double.

Since many of you guys have already mentioned things your kids do that make you want to drink on the game post, what would your drink of choice be if you did play the game?

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Parenting Drinking Game

So, I was working on a post about things my kids do that make me want to drink when I got the idea to create a Parenting Drinking Game. Like the drinking game memes that go around during presidential speeches where you take a shot when the president uses a made up word or something, this is a game where you take a drink when your kids do something at least somewhat annoying or infuriating. I should probably release this after the other post, but here’s something a little fun to cheer up your Monday. (And if your Monday is perfect and doesn’t need cheering up, don’t tell the rest of us.)

(Click the image to view a much larger version!)

What would you add to this list?

If you’re one of the special few who might feel inclined to blast me for promoting getting blasted around your kids, let me stop you right there — this post is meant to be humorous and such comments will be deleted. That’s all. 

Let’s connect on social media! You can find me on FacebookTwitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin.

If Toddlers Had Facebook

Isn’t Facebook great? You can go online and share everything about your life with your family, friends, acquaintances (aka people you met once), and stalkers. Whether it’s picture after picture chronicling your kids’ childhoods, because the whole world really needs to know about your 10-year-old’s haircut  (guilty as charged) or vague status updates about that someone in your life who needs to butt out and piss off, you can share it all on Facebook.

Some people hated it when “old people” (our parents and grandparents) got on Facebook. “It’s gonna be ruined!” they complained. And by “ruined” they meant, “I can’t post pictures of my half naked ass puking in the bushes or status updates about all the wild sex I’m having.” Aside from the often jumbled status updates about “COUSIN LENNY XLKSKD FIRE” and the 3,249 requests to play Farmville, it wasn’t that bad, though.

“Old people” definitely did not ruin Facebook. Sure, there might be an accidental — and highly inappropriate — gif or laughing reaction on a post about someone being on their deathbed, but that’s always good for a chuckle since it slightly lightens the situation. Even more so when they apologetically post about how they didn’t mean to put that or that Zuckerburg must have hacked their profiles. (Because deleting the offensive post is clearly not an option.)

(By the way, I’m putting quotation marks around “old people” because the people that we considered old a decade ago aren’t much that much older than we are now…)

Since we know what “old people” on Facebook looks like, let’s imagine for a moment that our toddlers got accounts and were given free reign. Their pictures would probably be just as bad as an older newcomer to Facebook. Where you might see an old person post three different profile pictures in various orientations until they get one that’s upright, you’d probably see pictures like this from a toddler:

Have you ever felt especially stabby when someone posts pictures about their amazing vacation while you’re stuck in the office or at home dealing with two projectile vomiting children and Laundry Mountain?

When you take a break for a minute and mindlessly scroll through Facebook, you’re faced with a picture that is angled just right to show off an adult beverage, toes, and sand.

If a toddler had a Facebook account, this is what they’d post:

And, of course, there would be the inevitable passive-aggressive comment from a jealous toddler friend…

Oof.

Toddlers would also probably be just as self-conscious about the number of likes on their posts as the average angsty younger Millennial was.

And you know how new parents seems to be cursed with an affliction that causes them to overshare on Facebook during their child’s first year? Well, toddlers would probably be like that, too.

The best part of toddlers being on Facebook would be all of the drama, though. You know they’d have it. They go from one extreme mood to another in the snap of a finger, and just like an insecure 29-year-old who has had way too many shots of Fireball, there would be no hesitation in putting that drama all over Facebook.

Toddlers on Facebook would definitely be interesting.

Let’s connect on social media! You can find me on FacebookTwitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin.

Happy Mother’s Day: #MyMomChallenge

First and foremost, Happy Mother’s Day to all the mamas out there! To everyone who has played that played that role in a child’s life and to all the moms-in-waiting, I hope your day is great. And a special Happy Mother’s Day to my grandmother in heaven — I may not have been her biological daughter, but she sure treated me like one during our time together.

I’ll save any further sappiness (as well as a doodle of the most interesting trophy ever that I was gifted) for another post. In honor of Mother’s Day, I’m introducing a challenge of sorts that will give you the chance to grill your kids and see what sort of funny stuff they can come up with.

The #MyMomChallenge

1. My mom is _____ years old and weighs _____ pounds.
2. My mom is good at cooking _____ and is not so good at cooking _____.
3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be ______ and her superpower would be _____.
4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be ______ and she would use her evil powers to _____.
5. I love it when my mom ______.
6. When my mom is driving, she _________.
7. I like it when my mom _______ and I don’t like it when my mom _________.
8. My mom does not like to _______.
9. My mom does ________ the best and _________ the worst.
10. I’m thankful for my mom because ___________.

Rules:

Get your kid/kids (regardless of age) to fill in the blanks and create a new post with their answers. Link back to this post so that your post shows up as a pingback in the comments. Nominate three other bloggers to participate.


Little Man (age 10):

1. My mom is 34 years old and weighs 104 pounds.
2. My mom is good at cooking everything and is not so good at cooking doughnuts.

3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be Captain Obvious and her superpower would be mind control.
4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be Professor Bossypants and she would use her evil powers to make other people go my way.

5. I love it when my mom is around.
6. When my mom is driving, she always needs a GPS.
7. I like it when my mom cuddles with me and I don’t like it when my mom fusses at me.
8. My mom does not like to drive in tight spaces.
9. My mom does making cookies the best and navigates the worst.

10. I’m thankful for my mom because she made me alive.

Baby Girl (age 3):

1. My mom is ten years old and weighs 24 pounds.

2. My mom is good at cooking spaghetti and is not so good at cooking yucky crumbs.
3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be Captain Mommy and her superpower would be throwing ninja stars.

4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be Bad Mommy and she would use her evil powers to throw plastic cups.
5. I love it when my mom hugs me.
6. When my mom is driving, she holds on to the steering wheel.
7. I like it when my mom plays with me and I don’t like it when my mom says “It’s not your birthday anymore.”
8. My mom does not like to eat yucky things.

9. My mom does cuddling the best and splashes bubbles on me the worst.
10. I’m thankful for my mom because you’re my best mommy.

I love everything about these answers. And I officially want to change the name of this blog to Professor Bossypants, but I probably won’t.

For the record, I’d like to see any mom who reads this blog participate in this challenge, but here are three in particular who definitely should:

Honest K
Baby Costs Money
The Lupie Momma

And dad bloggers — feel free to join in and change the wording up a bit!

Let’s connect on social media! You can find me on FacebookTwitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin.

#AtoZChallenge: ‘Z’ is for Zzzzz

I mentioned having bad anxiety in a previous post. I have generalized anxiety disorder, so my brain tends to escalate situations at times, to put it mildly. While the whole “feeling like I’m having a heart attack” thing sucks, it has created some funny situations. I wasn’t able to laugh at the time these situations were happening, of course, but definitely had a chuckle afterwards.

Baby Girl has not been good for my anxiety. Kids will create anxiety in any parent, even those who are typically pretty calm about things, but Baby Girl is another story. Where Little Man was always my easy child who listened and didn’t do things that were remotely dangerous (he didn’t do anything to indicate needing child-proof anything a single time, even though we had it), Baby Girl has necessitated purchasing every single child safety device known to man. She can also be a bit of a daredevil at times.

Like the time when she had just turned one and couldn’t walk, yet she managed to stand on one leg on top of a toy with wheels.

And she loves jumping off the step at the top of the porch. If her brother who is 6.5 years older than her can do it safely, then so can she, in her mind.


We haven’t ended up in the ER yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Baby Girl stayed in her pack-n-play for a long time. (She hated the crib, but we had a good mattress in the pack-n-play, so it was comfortable for her.) Up until her third birthday, there was no need for a big girl bed, as she was too short to attempt climbing out. After she finally did climb out, though, we bought her a big girl bed, and that’s when the night terrors started.

And by “night terrors,” I don’t mean those dreadful nightmares that cause kids to wake up screaming. She’s the one responsible for scaring the crap out of me.

Whenever I hear a noise in the night, I get freaked out, thinking someone might be breaking into the house. And despite being hard of hearing (, I tend to hear a lot of noises, noises that my husband who hears perfectly fine doesn’t hear (overactive imagination, much?). One night I heard something and sat up in the bed, waiting to see if I would hear it again and would need to wake up my husband to go check out the source of the noise. Just then, my doorknob jiggled.

Spoiler alert: we weren’t.

‘Twas no madman — just a toddler.

This one has happened quite a few times. I’ve told Baby Girl to call us over her monitor to come and get her when she wakes up, but she runs in our room every time.

One night I didn’t fully wake up when she opened the door to the bedroom, but I did moments later. In that state between being asleep and waking, I had a feeling of being watched. I woke up to this:

That’s not the only time she’s done that creepy staring thing, either. I’ve woken up in the morning to her sitting beside my pillow staring at me with her face just a few inches from mine. Once I woke up during the night to find Little Man doing the same thing. I asked what he was doing, and he said “watching you,” which didn’t lessen the creep factor.

So, thanks, dear children — especially Baby Girl — for making my anxiety worse.

And that’s a wrap for the A to Z Challenge! Wow! Tomorrow I’ll do a wrap-up post for the challenge. Thanks for sticking around all month! 

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