Cross stitch Nemo has begun.
Can I be annoying and gush for a minute about my kid? She rocked her first tee ball practice.
I can’t. Bunnies and puppies are my weakness.
No cat pictures.
Well shit, if anyone is going to the NYC Locke premiere and needs a date, you know how to reach me. Ugh.
In my dreams. But now I’m scheming trying to figure out how I can get there.
queenofmedia on the Goose’s growth.
We switched her car seat today and, coupled with her first tee ball practice tonight, I’m having my first realization of my kid’s growth. She’s not a toddler anymore.
…than those lines you get on your tummy from pants that hit at the natural waist. It’s like Beyonce’s belly chain only not.
I’m back! Finally feeling better.
Little Italy, NYC 1943 by Fred Stein.
Every Italian-American family has a father/uncle/male relative who has that pregnancy belly. It’s a little-realized phenomenon.
Some Peanut decided my neck was a good Sunday lounging space.
My tabouli game so fresh, my mom should threaten to beat it with a wooden spoon.
OMGosh, motherofthemix told that today is, in all legitimacy, Rex Manning Day! I know what the Goose and I are doing tonight.
Say no more, Mon Amour.
87% of my go-to dance moves come from ‘90’s teen movies.
87% of my go-to conversational dialogue comes from ‘90’s teen movies. The other 13% is Goonies and The Karate Kid.
Buy this for me
Ditto. Late birthday present.