I went to lunch on Saturday and the waitress asked me if I wanted her to "Cheese down my lasagna." There are two things very wrong with this and they are 1) Cheese is not a verb and 2) CHEESE IS NOT A VERB.
I am 34 years old. I have been wearing mascara for roughly 20 years now. I would say I apply mascara at least 360 days of the year. That allows for 72,000 mascara applications (I'm not even counting the days when I reapply or go out at night and put it on twice in one day). I would think that this would be enough applications that I am able to do it without poking myself in the eye with the mascara wand. I would be wrong to think that.
I opened my eyes to see her looking at me so intently. She was taking in every angle of my face as if trying to memorize every line. It took my breath away to realize how closely she watches me, how often she copies what I say or do, and how much we love each other. There is an incredible bond that exists between mothers and daughters. She held my face in her hands for a few more seconds and gently said, "Mama?" "Yes, baby?" "You have a big hair growing out of your chin."
Whenever I go barefoot in the house, my feet seem to be magically attracted to anything on the floor that shouldn't be there, like needles, thorns, teeny pieces of glass, staples...If something little is lost, I know all I need to do is take off my shoes, and I'll find it in no time. Who needs a metal detector when I have foot-radar?
I spent Saturday afternoon spraying wood stain on the new swing set. Balancing on the top of a ladder with a sprayer isn't the safest process and to make matters worse, I was downwind of the spray. I ended up with red highlights and a spotty fake tan. A girl's gotta multitask when there's no time for pampering.
I wasn't feeling well last night, so my husband offered to get some take-out for dinner. He then asked our five year old son what he wanted to eat. Our son replied, "Pasketti." Then he corrected himself and said, "No, no, not pasketti. Sasketti." And again, "No! Not sasketti. I want Spapetti." We were just sitting there, waiting for him to come up with the right word, when he walked over to my husband and said, "Dad, I want chicken."
My daughter is grounded, and it's way worse on me then on her, I do believe. Anyway, grounded from TV, the phone and video games, she is pretty bored and is spending all her time baking. And making marshmallow fondant, which I find inexplicably irresistible. I may have to unground her just to save my waistline.
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