On my way to see Magic Mike with my besties, all I could think was, are we the only ones rushing out to see this peep show... and how hard up does this make us?
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It's sleepaway camp season and everyone is getting their calls from the kiddos. I've found a pattern: I desperately want to strangle my husband after each call.
At a baseball game recently, a mom friend and I were having a bout of witty banter that went terribly, horribly, irrefutably awry.
You know how whenever you're feeling a little big for your britches, you'll get an earth-shatteringly embarrassing flashback that puts you right back in your place?
The ER that she went to said her daughter had a simple cold. They made her feel neurotic. They made her feel overprotective and ignorant.
In the blink of an eye, I went from 20 to nearly 40. If you're nearing, turning or past the big 4-0, here's one for you...
Mommas, do yourselves a favor, throw out those, "spice it up" pieces and top 10 lists. Don't be too concerned about the quantity of the sex you're having as long as your having some.
"Why can't you be more like Christian Grey?" I whined, in the same way my daughter asks things like, "Why you can't be more like Jessie's mom? She keeps ice cream cones in her house."
When I'm uncomfortable I use exaggerated humor to fill conversational gaps. It's like an oddly misplaced stand-up routine which can become painful to watch. This was one of those nights.
Love Words With Friends? If more than half of the items below describe YOU, I'll see you in WWFAA.
Yesterday, while trying to dress my daughter's Barbie in a stunning pair of black and silver lamé jeans, I realized they weren't going over her thighs. WTF? Had she borrowed a pair from Skipper?
"My name is JennyFromTheBlog91 and I'm a flash sale addict."
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