Words have failed me as of late and I find myself struggling with things to say. What else can I blog about besides my wonderful children, hot husband, crazy parenting ways, lack of breastfeeding, non-vaccinating ways?

I could talk about my job, but who really cares? I’m not going back in the Fall anyways and I have only 7 teaching days left. But who’s really counting? I did sorta half-ass apply for a teaching position in Lawrence this week. Except Lawrence isn’t hiring and I accidentally submitted the dang application when I only meant to save it.

Um, yeah.

I could talk about cloth diapering, but I’ve already done that too. (Except I did buy a new pretty diaper (thank you Chelse!) and a sweet used one recently. Although Simon didn’t seem to agree and said, "What’s so great about a gray diaper?")

Um, so…instead I’ll leave you with:

How to Torture a Child.

The kid HATES to get his haircut and it’s the most embarrassing thing ever. Well, I mean, it wasn’t so embarrassing that I didn’t whip out my camera and take a picture of his screaming, slobbering, little ‘ol adorable self who just happened to have drool dripping out of his mouth, mixed with hair and snot.

It was lovely, I tell you.

But it’s all worth it in the end though, cranky kid or not, cause we walked down Mass Street when we were finished. And walking down Mass means eating at fun, new places while not having to cook. And it meant spending time together as a family and fortheloveofallthingsholy would you look at that cutie:

(Not me.)
(The kid. Look at that cute kid)

And look at these other cuties:

I guess in the end, the only words I have to say that matter are this: I love the men in my life.

I’m assuming you all do too, or else you wouldn’t bother reading.


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