I told my friends and family this week that I’d be super cool about the whole hanging-out-at-Crappy-Pictures / byline-in-Huffington-Post-Parents thing as soon as I finished pooping my pants.
Then my brother was jealous of me.
You know what? It’s OK, friends. It’s natural. I’m his older sister, and it’s hard being a baby brother sometimes especially when the big kid gets to go do big-kid stuff. I get it. ...
Today is my little brother’s birthday. Jeff is 35. Woohoo!
Here’s what I need for you to know about Jeff:
Jeff pooped his pants a lot when he was younger.
Like, Jeff pooped his pants ’til he was 17. Or maybe just ’til he was 6. It’s hard to say for sure; time was all wonky when I was a kid.
My mom told me not to make fun of my brother for pooping his pants. She also told me to be nice to him and to share my stuff with him and to include him in games with my friends, so she was pretty much irrational all the way around. ...
“Uuhhh, Jeff?” I asked my brother pointedly, “Do you know that your kid’s got his pajamas on backward?”
I dunno; it didn’t seem like a completely stupid question at the time even though my kids wear crap backward all the time. Like hats. And pants. And pajamas. And attitudes. And actual crap.
And it’s not that I care that stuff’s on backward. Anyone who’s spent 25 minutes with my family knows that. ...
Just for fun, because it’s Tuesday morning (and Tuesday morning should be fun), this is my brother’s Facebook banner and profile picture:
Although I didn’t ask permission before sharing it with you which was unspeakably rude of me, I DID block out his last name which makes it all OK.
Honestly, though, when all of your Facebook posts come with this profile shot? ...
My niece: I want french fries.
Her dad: Well, I want good listeners.
My niece: But Daddy, we HAVE french fries.
…..
My little brother, Jeff, is a daddy.
Jeff and Kim have three kids.
Their kids are aged 3, 2 and almost 1.
That’s three kids aged 3 and under.
Three kids aged 3 and under is slightly less overwhelming than three kids aged 2 and under, which is what they had a few months ago. ...
Every year I’m a mom, I’m certain the Easter egg hunt can’t get any better.
From that very first time trying to convince my toddling Abby girl in her pristine, pressed Baby Gap dress, matchy-matchy bloomers and ruffle socks to amble toward the eggs that were littering the grass… to last year with myriad grubby kids (many of them mine) blithely elbowing siblings and cousins outta their way with nary a thought to the little people who could get hurt while they amassed personal billions in discount candy… every mental snapshot ups the ante. ...
WOOHOO! It finally happened! Just when I doubted that my lengthy (but extra fun and engaging) lectures were making a difference, my 12-year-old said this to his 10-year-old sister yesterday:
“You don’t need to play Wii, Aden. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s go ride bikes.”
LET’S GO RIDE BIKES, Ian said.
I just don’t understand why people doubt that miracles still happen. I mean, who needs Grilled Cheesus to point the way to God when there’s a 12-year-old boy child in America who will choose bike riding over video games? ...
