2012

Three Princesses and the Small Pink Clear Backpacks

Perhaps you have heard of Disney Princesses. If you are the parent of young girls, like me, you have not only heard of them, you have lived and breathed them for some time now. We have triplets. Lord knows what secret genetic sauce is pulsing through my body that produced three identical little hellions, but it definitely checked my personal quota for child production. At first my husband and I imagined that triplets might at least have some efficiencies to offer. After all, we could buy everything in bulk. If I saw a pair of adorable pink pants on sale,…

The Disaster Date and the Purse Organizer

I’d been aware of the clear advantages of clear bags (see what I did there?) for a while. This started since the time my friends and I went out to a concert and they sailed through the security check with their clear totes while I spent five minutes unloading my highly prized and sadly abused Marc Jacobs bag to satisfy the security guards’ apparent suspicion. He thought that I was smuggling something – liquor? drugs? a small yappy dog? – into the show. I’d even bought a clear bag for myself shortly afterwards, but I never carried it. This means…

Marriage Counseling

You haven’t lived until you’ve had to shop for shampoo and conditioner in a foreign city where you don’t speak the language, especially when you think the survival of your marriage depends on success. This is my story. May it serve as a lesson to men everywhere. My wife thinks I’m not assertive enough, and she’s right. I always tend to compromise rather than argue. My wife’s the opposite: She will go after anyone if she feels wronged. I’ve seen her go after men three times her size. I’ve seen her yell at police officers until I was certain they…

Matilda

Our daughter, Matilda, is special. No, really – I know that every parent says that about their kids. Well, not my parents, who were part of an older, less touchy-feely generation. In fact my father used to refer to me as The Wretch and frequently threatened to give me away to various organizations and circuses. All done with affection … I think. But Matty really is special. She’s like a thirty-year-old in a nine-year-old’s body. Her room, for example, is pin-neat. Painfully neat. I sometimes want to go in there and scatter random dolls and clothes around just to give…

My Dog Munch

I’m going to be up-front and honest: I am one of those Crazy Dog People (CDP). My little pooch is named Munch; he’s a rescue dog who practically leaped into my arms when I visited the shelter, three pounds of shivering furry goodness. I’d always had a soft spot for critters, but Munch was my first pet and I just fell in love with the little booger the moment he slobbered all over me, and now I am full-on CDP. Munch is basically one of my children. I cook for him, buy him clothes, and take him everywhere. Munch isn’t…

Hen Night Security

When Gwen announced her engagement, I didn’t need to be asked to be her Maid of Honour – it was assumed. At least I hope it was, otherwise the last few months have been incredibly awkward and I didn’t even realise it. But even if I was wrong to assume I’m sure I changed Gwen’s mind, because I rocked the most awesome Bachelorette Hen Night ever. I know Gwen. I know she’s a sweetheart, an innocent lass who has been in a state of continuous shock ever since the moment she met me. I love her like a sister, and…

With Five You Get Chaos

We never planned to have five kids. One kid seemed like an overwhelming challenge to sanity. Five just sort of happened. First of all, triplets. Thank you, fertile genetic ancestors, for passing down to me the uterus of some sort of superwoman. Then, you guessed it, twins, fraternal. At that point my husband and I considered buying a second house to maintain constant physical separation, because a sixth (or my god, seventh or eighth) child would have sent us over the cliffs of insanity. Not to mention the cliffs of poverty. We survived, and we’re very happy. Three boys and…

Girls Fight Club

We formed the Girls Fight Club at my office after the Noodle Incident. It’s not what you think – we didn’t meet in the parking lot at lunch to slap fight and plot the end of civilisation. That’s a Boy Thing. Girls Fight Club was more about banding together and defending ourselves against our boss, known collectively as Loathsome Daryl. Loathsome Daryl was an incredible specimen: Chauvinistic, slightly racist, dim-witted, and fond of plaid pants that fit poorly in ways that were difficult to describe. Under different circumstances, we would have pitied Loathsome Daryl. Since he was our boss, and…

Clear Laptop Bags – Security Follies

I travel so much I’ve set myself up as a sort of travel guru. I used to like to interrupt overheard conversations and give people tips on getting around various airports, or to stand in the security lines and make fun of people as they make obvious, terrible mistakes that delay their trip to the gates. I once witnessed an irate man arguing that his collection of hunting knives were not an issue and should be allowed through in his carry-on luggage. That was a banner day. Of course, whenever I start to feel smug these days I glance down…

Clear Gym Bags – Freaky Friday

Usually, I can identify my son Robert’s gym bag by smell. He’s on the football, wrestling, and baseball teams and I often think he will never smell good again. This is partly due to his constant workouts in sweaty weight rooms and less-than-energetic approach to showers, but also because when he does shower he likes to douse himself in that body spray they make specifically for teen boys. It’s not so bad as far as colognes go except that Robert seems to be under the impression that a gallon of it is appropriate. Between the choices of weight-room stinky or…

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