So this is how my blog is described over at Scholastic: A dose of Midwestern scarcasm from a mom trying to get healthy while raising two children
Didja notice the typo? Or maybe it's not a typo... Maybe I am super-scary. My kids DO look at me like I have three heads sometimes. And, for some reason, I intimidate a couple of my hubby's cousins so much that they won't talk to me. Right now, my fingernails are kinda long, so they could be mistaken for talons. And my hair is normally VERY scary -- wavy and windblown on the mildest of days.
It's OK, though. I won't let the notoriety go to my head. You ain't gonna change me, maaaan!
I am admitting to checking out the competition. And following them. Some competitor I am...
Dadcentric is huge. And male. And it might be hairier than I am. Maybe.
The Adventures of Bean and Goobs reads like my bloggy twin. Except that her kids are a smidge younger than mine and they're both boys.
To turn back towards me (hello, spotlight!) for a moment I'm going to share some of the misadventures of the last 10 hours:
Scott and I split a bottle of wine and watched the Lost series finale. You may have caught my mid-broadcast tweets. Though I wanted to, I did not chuck a shoe at the screen. We did, however, grab a couple of lanterns and head out into the dark of the back yard to plant our blue spruce fingerlings.
"You and me goin' plantin' in the dark..." Hey! I'm not using that as a euphemism -- still mid-miscarriage here, OK? But yeah, there we were, stumbling around the yard, inhaling far too many gnats to consider it a coincidence, planting the 9 free trees my mother got from the Arbor Day Foundation. Don't worry, I did clip the baby monitor to the front of the wheelbarrow, so if the kids needed us, we could have rushed back into the house, leaving a trail of topsoil behind us.
This morning, I discovered that the crazy mutts have perfected a new trick: one poops on the floor, the other eats it to clean up the evidence. Might have worked had the snacker not stepped in it before dining. I can just picture the two of them pulling off this caper. No, on second thought, I don't want to picture that.
Don't say I didn't warn you -- there is a disclaimer right there under my picture that says I might be talking about poop. It's not even in fine print...