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I guess because I have younger kids, I only ever see the overachieving moms (OAM) at the over the top birthday parties or designing elaborate concoctions for school lunches. I forgot about the children the overachievers have been raising long before I started having kids. I didn't think about the high school-aged children of the OAMs. That's why I was surprised last week when I read an article about "promposals."

The Hubs' Ego

One morning the Hubs and I were watching the news and there was a story about a family fishing and as they were reeling their fish into the boat, a shark came out of nowhere and bit the fish off the line.  They showed the video and the Hubs said, "Ha!  Forget the fish, I'd go after that shark!"

"What?" I said.

People Who Post Annoying Things on Facebook

There are a lot of annoying posts on Facebook. I know we've all done these, but somehow they're not annoying when WE do them, right? Ha. Let's see if I can cover the basics:

1.  Anything to do with vomit and/or diarrhea.  WTH?  Who shares this stuff?  Why did you think we needed to know this?  At least it's usually it's kid-centered - I can handle that a lot better than I can hearing about YOUR diarrhea!  "Guess who woke up early from his nap and spread his poo poo all over the wall?  Uh oh.  Silly, King!  I'll post pictures later! ;)"

Open Letter to Rob Lowe

Rob Lowe has an interview in the New York Times Magazine titled Rob Lowe on the Problems With Being Pretty. Rob feels like no one took him seriously when he was a young heartthrob because he was too pretty and I don't think that was the case at all. I've written him a letter.

Goody Bags that are Nicer than the Gift My Kid Gave

We all know that birthday parties have become outrageous and ultra-competitive - that's yesterday's news.  The new frontier is the dreaded goody bag.

The goody bag has always been the bastard of the birthday party.  It's a throw away.  An afterthought.  Because it's the bastard it's always been full of cheap junk or teeth rotting candy.  It's a small token that says, I just paid about twelve to fifteen bucks for your kid to come celebrate my kid's birthday and we appreciate your $12-25 gift so here is your bag of shit.  Thanks for coming and see you next month at your kids' party!

The Dads at Science City on Saturday

Saturday was a great day around here.  We had beautiful weather and the Hubs didn't have to show houses so we were looking for something fun to do.

Luckily, I have good friends that I can call at a moment's notice and say, "What are YOU doing today and can we come too?"  That's pretty much what I did to my friend.

She told me that she and her family were going to go downtown and visit the new Kansas City Ballet studio that just opened.  It was a supposed to be a big party with lots of fun (free) stuff for the kids to do.  She is a ballerina and her daughters are ballerinas, so they were pretty excited.

People Who Text and Drive

I have had it with drivers who text.

This week I am noticing an epidemic of people who are texting while driving.  One of these days I will be hit by a texting driver and I won't be happy about it.  I'm not talking about those people who text and drive 80 mph down the highway.  We've all seen those commercials that are meant to scare the shit out of us with their half finished text messages and a family member saying, "This was the text Julie was sending me when she ran up the back end of a tractor trailer.  I miss Julie."  I feel like those are the 80 mph texters.  I hope to God I'm never hit by one of those.  Luckily I haven't seen any of those kinds of texters.  I'm just talking about the idiots who are driving down side streets and sort of drift into my lane or slow down to 20 mph to add a fucking emoticon, because they can't text and drive at the same time.  Ironically, they're probably texting something like, "I'm running late.  Will be there as soon as I can. :)"  Maybe if you stopped texting and just drove, you wouldn't be so late!  They can barely chew gum and jump rope at the same time so what makes them think they can operate heavy machinery and type on a tiny keyboard at the same time?

Anyone Who Would Try and Give Me a Birth Wreath

It was recently brought to my attention that there is yet another event that needs to be memorialized and decorated to the nth degree: giving birth.

I know what you're thinking. But Jen, when I gave birth I got flowers and cards and balloons and some meals. What more could I need? 

Well, girl, you missed out. Your birth experience wasn't perfect enough, because your ugly, drab hospital room door was completely and totally unadorned without a Birth Wreath. (I would have put a picture of a birth wreath in here, but shocker, no one would give me permission to use their pic. It was like they thought I might make fun of them or something. Click the link above and you'll see a picture there.) Yup. You needed some bling on that brown, (probably faux) wood thing that just stood there sneering at your guests when they arrived to see your little miracle. How embarrassing for you! Is that how you want your friends, family, and hospital staff to remember your birth experience? What about you? Do you want to remember your friends and family turning up their noses at your horrible hospital-issue (probably handwritten - the horror!!) signage? Baby Boy Jones. Ugh. You should be ashamed!

Why I Don't Want Another Baby

This week I have been getting my baby fix. Six years ago I gave birth to my final baby, Adolpha. (Yes, she was the last, although starting this blog almost two years ago felt a bit like giving birth and sometimes it's my favorite child, I still don't count it.)

Every now and again I get a little twinge and I realize that it's baby pains I'm feeling (and not gas pains as I had originally assumed). When I get these twinges I have to remind myself that I am 40-freaking years old and I am way too damn old to have another baby! So I take a Tums and I go on with my day.

Adolpha's Favorite Finger

"Guess which one is my favorite?"
I picked Adolpha up from school and I heard her ask from the backseat, "Hey Mom, do you have a favorite finger?"

"Ummm . . . no.  I don't think so," I replied as I navigated through the hell that is the elementary school pick up line.

"Really?" she asked surprised.  "'Cause I do."

I figured she'd tell me her favorite finger was her thumb, since she has been sucking it since she was in the womb.  (We've been trying to break her of this habit, so if you have any words of wisdom - don't hold back!)  "Is it your thumb?" I asked.

"No, silly!  A thumb isn't a finger.  It's a thumb!"