Right on

Here is to strong women.

May we know them.

May we be them.

May we raise them.




Chances Are

Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

Probability that Little Bug will put her training pants on backwards: 2/5

Probability that she will try to put two legs into one leg hole of her training pants: 3/5

Chances that Little Bug will do a cannonball in her swim instructor’s face: 1/2

Chances that someone in her class will think splashing the instructor is funny and copy her: 1/4


Likelihood that Little Bug will successfully go “pee pee” in the toilet: 1/12

Likelihood that I will accidentally say “pee pee” in front of adults because I’ve been saying it at home so dang often: 5/6

Probability that she will eat the food from my plate, leaving me to finish her mangled version of the same meal: 1/4

Raisin bran sans raisins!

Odds that she will start yammering during an important phone call: 5/6

Chances of her keeping all of the Play-Dough on the table: 1/20

Probability of Little Bug managing to text someone in my phone book who I don’t really want to talk to, but keep in there for business purposes: 1/10

Probability of said text making any sense: 0/10

Probability of said text being auto-corrected into something embarrassing: 7/10

Likelihood that she’ll enjoy a trip to the carwash: 0/10


Likelihood that I’ll use “going to the carwash” as a threat against bad behavior: 0/100 (Come on, that’s mean… and expensive.)

Odds that she’ll be good at math: 8/9

Odds that she’s good at math right now: 1/3

I didn’t know my iPhone calculator could do that.

Probability that Little Bug will find the most germaphobic person in the room and either try to touch them with sticky hands or kiss them with an open mouth: 2/5

Likelihood that she will call someone “Mama,” regardless of gender: 2/3

Chances that she’ll decide to use her toddler bed as it was intended: 1/4

Roughing it

C vs. K

(some of this interview may be liberally imagined)

Mama C: Hi Louie.

Lucie: Hi!

MC: We had a long morning together while Mama K was at work. How do you think it went?

L: I liked working out with you. You did exactly three push-ups in with me sitting on top of you.


MC: Well, you are a hefty 32 pounds.

L: Me gusta burritos.

MC: What else did we do?

L: We watched a surprising amount of T.V. Funny… Mama K and I don’t watch that much T.V. together.

MC: Oh yeah?

L: Yep, we go on walks, go to the library, play with friends… and she doesn’t complain about my weight.


MC: You don’t jump on her!

L: Which came first, the couch potato or the trampoline?

MC: What? Well, you don’t have to punch me in the arm when you say my name. When you say Mama K’s name, you gently pat her.

L: And why do you think that is?

MC: Point taken.

L: Another thing: why does Mama K put me in real clothes with actual layers, while you leave me in my pajamas all day? 

MC: I can dress you if you want.

L: (looks Mama C up and down) No thanks. I’m good.






Beauty School

I’m no fashion expert. If I was, the world would be wearing workout clothes for everyday outfits.  Oh, wait.  I’m being told that’s an actual thing now– who knew?

Well, I may get the clothes right on occasion, but I know I definitely don’t get the hair.  As Gina Linetti from “Brooklyn Nine Nine” asks another hair-challenged character: “Did you make the cover of ‘Hair Pulled Back Magazine?'”  I would subscribe to that.


Except when it comes to Little Bug’s hair.  In that case, we drop her off at the hair salon (aka Daycare) and get back a very sensibly styled kid.  Observe the before and after:

So yes, we pay $300/week for French braids.  And indiscernible artwork.  This just goes toward the $300,000 it is estimated to cost a parent raising a kid these days.  Can’t buy me love?  I beg to differ, Patrick Dempsey.


The title of this blog entry is an appropriate reaction to Little Bug’s latest addition to her vocabulary: “no.”

We somehow made it two years, seven months and eleven days without that word being uttered from her lips (and the defiant action to follow).

On the plus side, at least it wasn’t her very first word, like a certain blogger we all know (hint: it’s me).