So the first F-bomb has been dropped.   No, not from me picking up dog puke, or Mark trying to make a ponytail.   Nope, rather from the mouth of my youngest child..Joseph....who's 3 years old...the one with the innocent smile who'll plan an ambush the minute you turn your back...

There comes a time in your child's life when you realize how much they're too clever for their own good.   Well actually..more like too clever for YOUR own good...

When Mark and I get a babysitter, we usually ride our bikes downtown to have dinner.   I've probably never told him this, but those 10 minute bike rides are some of my favorite minutes. For some reason, during that little half a mile we become our pre-marriage, pre-kids, pre-real responsibilities selves and we just chill...like back when he had long hair and I could still leave the house without having to rub off a Cheetos stain off my pants...

10. I'm finding pine cone needles everywhere but my ass crack.   9. My fingers are raw from prying toys from the Alcatraz that is their box.   8. Eating chips on my couch guilt free becomes much more challenging due to those f!*&ing Weight Watchers and Zumba Fitness commercials...

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a mom at Luke's gymnastics class.   Her son had been in Luke's class last year, but not this year because of scheduling problems. More specifically, the class Luke was in was too soon after school hours and her son, let's call him Paul, was just too exhausted to do cart wheels and climb ropes after a full day at school...and understandably...

As mentioned on Monday and, due to excessive screaming in favor of guitar solos and encores, I completely lost my voice over the week-end.   My only means of communication was with notes scribbled on various take-out menus and a faint whisper.   It's hard to maintain a dictatorship without a voice....so I thought....