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Wordless Wednesday: The (Tball) Boys are Back in Town

Tball Collage

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Terrors in the Night

Nightmare

The screaming began right around midnight.

“MOMMMMEEEEEEE!!!” It continued to gain in hysteria, growing louder and louder until a trembling child was pooled in heap upon the newly displaced dog bed.

(The dog has recently demonstrated a serious phobia of smoke alarms. I’ve recently decided to start cooking in a healthier lifestyle adoption. Kid and dog were likely going for a quid pro quo kinda thing.) Continue reading

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Muddy Buddy 2013

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First off, I would like to state this is a misnomer. There is one giant mud pit at the end – which, while fun, does not make for the dirty girl run I was expecting.

Really it was more of a Dusty Trusty. Continue reading

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When Potty Training Goes Poorly

Potty

The odds are good that in just a few short weeks you’ll stumble upon a news headline shouting, “Family Receives Million Dollar Water Bill.” And it won’t be one of those billing error issues – it will be the result of a washing machine running non-stop for 30+ days. (Not to mention the constant flushing.)

We’re potty training. Continue reading

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Happy Fathers Day

Dad Collage

Happy Fathers Day.

To Jon. To PapaStavo.

To all of you who share in the crazy that is parenthood.

To the newly minted dads and the papas to be.

To all fathers who read this stream of conscious rambling.

Logan_Papa_11-20-12

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Adventures Offline

“The Internet’s acting a little squirrelly,” Jon texted me yesterday afternoon.

By the time I got home, all the technology was askew. The Internet was down. So our VoIP didn’t work. And no cable to watch the baseball games. With only one tiny cell reception bar.

(AT&T – Less bars in more places. Because it’s not like I live in the heart of the Silicon Valley. Oh wait…)

Jon was at work. The boys were asleep. I felt so alone and isolated. Someone hold me? (Yeah. I know. I have an addiction.) Continue reading

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Kiss Me. I’m Irish

I actually am. 50/50 people. Irish/Italian, baby.

Momma Be Thy Name noted, “There is No Such Thing as Half-Italian.” And she certainly has a point. Growing up, I always associated far more with my Italian heritage. Mostly because I am first generation American on that side. (You’ve seen some of the comments posted by GrampaStavo – that’s seriously how he sounds folks.)

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