miss c

We’ve entered a new phase of parenting, and it’s not an especially helpful or cute phase that you want to scrapbook like “my children will fetch me a cold drink from the refrigerator” or “my children will scratch my back on demand.”

It’s incessant fighting and I don’t like it one bit.

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We survived Miss C’s weekend of partying and I came out on the other side of the weekend fairly unscathed, having only stepped on one of 249 plastic microscopic toys now residing at our house.

When I was One,
I had just begun.

When I was Two,
I was nearly new.

Monday mornings hit me in the face like a whiff of ripe garbage. I don’t do Mondays, particularly Monday mornings, very well. I am a bit of a control freak, so I don’t like the tendency for Monday to get railroaded by a million distractions.

The Deep South Moms blog (imagine Barry White saying that softly) officially launched today and while we’re not serving up fried chicken, grits, or sweet tea, we are serving up some fine home cooked blogging.

I saw this cereal at Dollar Tree today. For real, ya’ll!

7 a.m. People are soooooo going to buy my sh*t!

8 a.m. Come on people, it’s time to buy my sh*t!

9 a.m. People are actually buying my sh*t!

11 a.m. Is anyone going to buy any more of my sh*t?

Noon. I’ll pay you to take my sh*t!

Dear Miss C:

On Saturday we had the usual gathering of selves and stuff for soccer. Because we had a freak snow in March and then flooding in April (cue REM’s End of the World as We Know It), the spring soccer season is like the Energizer Bunny. It keeps going, and going, and going.