Daily Dose of M

Since I’ve begun writing again, I’ve realized that putting things down on paper (or screen) helps me appreciate the crazy a little more.  Parenting is hard stuff.  It is certainly not for the weak or faint of heart.  I’m convinced that my buttons are pushed more than an elevators! 

Being blessed enough to have a daughter and a son I’ve experienced quite an array of emotions. Now, I’m fully aware that all children are different, but for us, my girl is all sugar and drama and my boy is……..


I hope you enjoy as we bring you a little segment we call our Daily Dose of M.

For the past two weeks I’ve been looking for my iron.  I never use it (sorry J).  I dislike ironing with a passion and will always try to get away with using the wrinkle free setting on my dryer. However, little Miss G is in Girl Scouts and I have a stack of patches that need to be ironed on her Daisy tunic.  After relentlessly searching for that damn iron, I’ve decided it’s time to buy a new one.  This, of course, means that the second I open up the new iron I will find the old one.  Damn it.

M and I hop in the Mama wagon and head to Target.  The trip itself was pretty uneventful. M was a great helper, throwing every scary Halloween decoration he could in our cart. (Did I mention he’s only 3? Some of these decorations would give me nightmares! This kid has no fear.) Like any good parent, I lied and told him we’d get Halloween decorations next time.  We make our way to the check out with only the iron in the cart.  I deserve a huge pat on the back for that one!  While we are checking out M asks me if I can pick him up. Knowing that I won’t be able to pick him up much longer (the kid weighs 50 pounds already) I reach down and he jumps in my arms.  M gives me the biggest hug, pulls back, looks at me and tells me, “You’re the best mama ever!.”  At that moment, I couldn’t have been happier and thought to myself, maybe another wouldn’t be so bad. Within 2 seconds of thinking that Matthew touches a mole I have under my chin and shouts,


Great! My 3 year old is still calling my mole a nipple and this time he shouts it out for everyone at Target to hear.  I gently correct M and remind him that I have a mole there and that it is not a nipple.  He was very quick to exclaim, just as loudly,



You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.


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