My kids look like hobos. In Dora sweaters.
Growing up, my family always had an artificial Christmas tree. We’d hang tinsel on it, our cats would eat the silvery strands and the next morning we’d accidentally step in piles of hot cat tinsel-barf.
Am I the only one who has been blindsided by the holidays? It still feels like November and all of our Christmas parties are off in the distant next month, but NO, they are happening all around me: cookie exchanges, part
Never a dull moment ’round these parts.
You were born on the last day of summer and here we are, three months later, driving on a snowy road at two a.m. back to the hospital because you’re coughing so hard that you can’t breathe.
Brinley is sick with a bronchial virus and is coughing like a yellow-fingered smoker named Magda who gags on her phlegm and barfs all over the coffee table. It’s sad and gross.