This post is sponsored by the empowerment of women and two glasses of merlot.

It’s summer in Florida.  I’m not sure what that means for other parts of the country (other than your summers must stink, because ALL OF YOU ARE HERE) but in Florida, it means rainy season.  The daily onslaught of flash flooding, torrential downpours, roof shaking thunder and satellite killing lightning (side eye to you, DirecTV).  When it rains, it pours…and when it pours, people want to get inside where it’s safe and dry.  Except…

People aren’t the only things wanting to get inside.

Oh, just a peaceful summer in Florida. No biggie.

We love all God’s creatures. ALL OF THEM.


Currently vacationing in our garage.


When you’ve lived here your entire life, you’re just accustomed to the things that skitter and scamper and stick to your windows and bite you when you aren’t looking.  In my 29 years (shhh…) of Florida life, I’ve seen most everything, but there are still a few things that give me the willies: spiders, lizards, frogs, roaches, palmetto bugs, geckos, snakes, armadillos, opossums, stink bugs and those enormous blind mosquitoes.  Just to name a few.  But because I have the heart of a Tibetan monk, we cannot kill these things.  If it enters the house (or truck) we have a “catch and release” rule in our house.  They all serve a purpose, and I’m not disrupting the Kingdom.  Well, except cockroaches, because I’m not certain what their actual purpose in the circle of life is, save for causing me to nearly pee all over myself if I see one.

Yesterday, I went to lunch with some friends from the office.  I didn’t drive, because I never drive (I also don’t pump gas, add washer fluid or know how to change a flat tire) but when we got back to the office, I wanted to move my truck closer to the building so it could get some shade in the afternoon.  No one likes grabbing a 487 degree steering wheel at 5:02pm, am I right?!

I open the door of my truck and there on the interior panel of the door (the part by the wheel well) there it was…a frog.  An enormous, slimy, sticky, menacing frog.

Actual size.

Actual size.


I did what any mature adult would do: slammed the door and screamed for help.  After several of my co-workers surveyed the frog and literally did nothing to help, I decided to climb through the passenger door to move the truck.  An additional three minutes spent debating the necessity of this act led to a co-worker moving my vehicle on my behalf…but leaving the frog inside.  (I hate all of you).

When he opened the door, we couldn’t “see” the frog, which meant the frog had “left”, right?  Of course, because all frogs stuck inside trucks decide it’s best to escape when they’re three miles from home and have been screamed at by an adorable girl in a green dress.  I’m sure the frog hopped on his merry way.

5pm.  Time to leave.  Time to face my fear in the parking lot.  Would he be there when I opened the door?  Four hours have passed.  A monsoon the size of Kansas has washed over our building.  Surely the frog has sensed the warm puddles just waiting for him to splash in…surely he’s left.

Open the door.  THE FROG IS STILL THERE.  Staring at me — no, challenging me.  Shit.  Shit shit shit.  I closed the door.  I paced in a circle.  I opened the door.  Still there.  SHIIIIT.  I closed the door.  I resigned myself to climbing in through the passenger side, giving many Elks at the lodge next door a good view of my polka-dot mom underwear.  In the truck.

Now…can the frog squeeze through the closed door and also join me in the truck?  Probably.  He got behind the door, he can probably get into a Chinese finger trap.  Frogs are tricky and slimy and full of sorcerer powers that I don’t understand.  I turned to face my backseat of toddler socks, shoes, cheerios, books, toys, and various other necessities, and found what I was looking for: a giant beach towel.  I grabbed the towel and shoved it down by the floorboard.  Towels stop frogs.  It’s science.

Crank the truck.  Drive two blocks to Miles’ school.  Park the truck.  Feel nervous poop cramps in my stomach because now I have to get out of the truck.  Hyperventilate.  Consider climbing out the passenger door, but realize that the parking lot is full of parents and I’m not really sure how they’d react (actually, I am totally 110% sure of how they’d react).  Take a deep breath.

Open the door.

The door swings open, slowly, and the frog is now ON THE DOOR.  OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG.  As the door inches its way ajar, his little frog eyes meet mine, and he stares, never breaking eye contact.

Close the door.

Sit in the truck.  5:07pm.  I am never this late to pick up Miles.  Panic about the frog.  Panic that Miles thinks I’ve abandoned him with Miss Kelly.  Stop panicking about Miles because it’s story time and the kid probably doesn’t want to leave yet, anyway (this is a true story).  Panic more about the frog.  Realize I have to make a decision.

Open the door.

The frog has made his way back to the wheel well, no longer on the door.  Phew.  I time my escape to meet with one of the daycare dads in the parking lot.  I leap from the vehicle, without closing the door, and I flail and flap in the direction of the creature and shout, “THERE’S A FROG!  THERE’S A FROG!”

And daycare dad, covered in drywall dust and paint (clearly a manly man), sauntering to his truck with his sweet daughter in tow, is now presented with the opportunity to show his daughter that he is a protector.  That he is a fierce warrior, here to save the world, and be his daughter’s (and my) hero.  Daycare dad does exactly what you’d expect him to do…

He frowns and shrugs his shoulders, and walks away.  Way to go, daycare dad.  I bet if this had happened before Father’s Day, you would’ve saved the frog.

I get Miles.  We load up.  I jump back in the truck.  My leaping entrance and exit occurs three more times before my husband can finally, at 9pm, save the frog (and me).

Some of you might ask why I didn’t just shoo the frog out myself, to which I’d respond by telling you that’s a silly question.  Of course I’m all for empowering women when it comes to things like becoming CEOs and doctors, bull riding, not wearing make up and winning a belching contest.  However, when it comes to bugs, reptiles, vehicle maintenance, outside chores and lifting over 50 pounds, I default to men.  Additionally, I was terrified that the frog might become disoriented and leap into my arms.  I was wearing a green dress.  Also, I smell like cookies, and everyone knows that frogs love cookies.

If you’re visiting Florida this summer, I’d encourage you to take a souvenir with you when you leave.  My suggestion:

I'd look great on your mantle.

I’d look great on your mantle.

Happy Vacationing,


Prize to anyone who has seen this.  Is Sam Elliott really in it?  Need to know.

Prize to anyone who has seen this masterpiece.  Is it real?  Is Sam Elliott really in it?  Need to know.


Sunday Mom Confessions

Oh Sunday, how quickly you arrive, always one of our favorite days of the week, yet also signaling the end of the weekend.  With feet up and wine in hand, I confess that over the past week I…

  1. Asked my son why he will not eat broccoli off his highchair tray, but will pick and eat my Scarlet Begonias in the front yard.
  2. Gave in to the dog’s sad eyes, and let her clean up the mess from dinner.  I hope tomatoes aren’t on the “NEVER FEED THIS TO A DOG” list.
  3. Ate a sweet potato for breakfast on Saturday.
  4. Learned that he answer to, “Where is all our Tupperware?” is not pleasant when you realize it’s been at least three weeks since the refrigerator was cleaned out.  This is a guesstimation, since neither my husband nor I could remember when we last made turkey tacos, and we’re almost positive it was taco meat in that container.  Almost…
  5. Taught my son how much fun it is to pick up tree limbs in the yard and toss them in the garbage can…especially when you use sound effects.  “Pew Pew Pew!” also works for putting dirty clothes in the hamper, taking clothes from the washer and putting them in the dryer, picking up our toys and putting cat food back in the dish.  Well, 32% success rate with the cat food…
  6. Realized that there are blueberry bagels baked with the special ability to explode into 1,457,832 crumbs when touched by a toddler.  Said crumbs do not show up all at once, rather in groups of 1,473, after you’ve mopped or swept or vacuumed.  Also in the car seat, diaper bag, laundry basket and my running shoes.  It’s like bagel confetti.
  7. Wondered last week how much cat food is “safe.”  He ate three kibbles this weekend.  No weird rash.
  8. Had an EPIC “mom fail” moment, when Miles tripped over my feet while we were walking, and went face first into the pavement.  While he was (thankfully, praise Jesus) not seriously injured, he does have road rash on his forehead.  Guilt the weight of the Titanic settled over me, even though I am fully aware of our son’s ability to trip and fall over thin air.
  9. Accidentally dropped some cooked pasta on the floor while cooking dinner.  Left it there because I knew Miles would just eat it (he did).  Similarity between toddlers and dogs.  Also, this was pre-facesmash, so don’t judge.
  10. Spent all three hours of my son’s naptime on both Saturday and Sunday reading.  In addition to forgetting when we last made turkey tacos, I’ve also forgotten when I last mopped the floor. (edit: today, after DOGTOMATOBAGELCRUMBFEST 2014)

We also had playdates and epic coloring sessions and ran around like crazy people in the front yard and swung on the swing until we could swing no more (that’s when mom and dad’s arms finally give out).  Miles now brings us his shoes and asks “Go? Go?” to remind us we should be outside eating driveway rocks and chasing the cats and waving to every neighbor we see.  We also finished a small project for displaying the magnitude of incredible artwork we have amassed since Miles started in the Toddler Room at school (future Rembrandt, photos to follow).  It was an awesome weekend, even if we did have a facesmash.



Mom Confessions

Another installment of Mom Confessions, because I’m tired and too lazy to finish composing anything else.  Enjoy.

This week I…

  1. Ate a pepperoni pizza Lean Pocket for dinner at 9:30pm.  AND I ENJOYED IT.
  2. Wore maternity pants to work.  Skinny cords on bottom, yoga band on top…it’s the mullet of fashion choices but OHMYGOSHSOCOMFORTABLE.
  3. Started a half dozen blog posts, and have finished none.  Because when it comes to finishing a post or taking a nap…well, naps win every time.
  4. Started a sentence with, “Miles, please don’t ride the…” many, many, MANY times.  The cat is not amused, and the laundry basked is now hidden in the garage.
  5. Contemplated how much cat food a toddler can safely eat.
  6. Wondered “What’s that sticky spot?” at least three times a day.  Answer: oatmeal, yogurt, honey, jelly, crushed Cheerios, milk, peanut butter, more jelly, more yogurt, and what I believe is banana smeared with Nutella then rolled in rubber cement and applied liberally to the sliding glass door.  Just a guess.
  7. Made BLTs for dinner after a very long work day, then instantly felt mom guilt for not cooking something more nutritious, and then craved another Lean Pocket at 9:30pm.
  9. Secretly smiled when Miles got upset as I left for rehearsal on Tuesday night.  The kid misses me when I’m gone.
  10. Covered broccoli with spaghetti sauce to make it more appealing (FYI: toddlers are super smart, and are not easily fooled).  Am I the only person who loves broccoli?
  11. Set up the water table in our kitchen on a desperately stir crazy and rainy Saturday afternoon.  Bonus: THE FLOOR IS MOPPED!
  12. Found four balls, one train and a book in the refrigerator’s produce drawer.  Was not surprised.
  13. Found my car keys in the back of a toy dump truck.  Still not surprised.
  14. Found my husband’s dirty socks in the laundry basket.  Was VERY surprised.

It’s Winesday (not that we needed a reason…) which means we’re halfway to the weekend.



Additional Confession: Tried to find something funny about Hot Pockets, spent 20 minutes scrolling through Google images, and 5 minutes laughing at this.  Who knew Hot Pockets were that funny?

Additional Confession: Tried to find something funny about Hot Pockets, spent 20 minutes scrolling through Google images, and 5 minutes laughing at this. Who knew Hot Pockets were that funny?


Remember when I tried to write a weekly round-up of the junk I was doing when I wasn’t here writing?  Well, as it turns out, I am primarily doing junk other than writing a lot (kids, right?!) and the round-up fell to the wayside.  Instead of keeping a notepad with things that happen during the week that I feel the need to share with the public, it’s evolved into a smattering of thoughts.  These are the thoughts I’ve had this evening.

Tonight, it’s just me and the kid, since Evan is running the soundboard for our praise team’s rehearsal.  I love (most of) the time I get when it’s just Miles and me; except for random trips to Target that end with the kid under one arm and an abandoned 31 pound jug of cat litter.  But for the majority, Me and Miles Time is awesomesauce.

Do you know what I really really like about M&M night?  Once Miles hits the hay, it’s just M NIGHT, as in M-E (not Shymalanlahardtospell last name but decent director of movies that scare me guy).  Choirs of angels sing while I make a list of things I’d like to do with the next glorious three hours…

  1. Finish last month’s entry in Miles’ baby book.
  2. Organize closet.  Again.  WHO DESTROYS THIS SPACE DURING THE DAY?!  I’m looking at you, cats.
  3. Read many, many discussion boards regarding this week’s episode of The Walking Dead (omgomgomg)
  4. Get a few chores done.
  5. Write nonsense for this blog.

Seems like a short list, right?  Well, here’s what ends up happening…

  1. Wash bottles and sippy cups until four layers of skin has fallen off my delicate hands.
  2. Cut fruit and vegetables for tomorrow.
  3. Clean up fruit and vegetable bits from today.
  4. Wash more things.
  6. Find more fruit and cheese and vegetables on the floor.  Dog refuses to eat it.  Clean it up myself.
  7. Pick up all the toys.
  8. Stand over Miles’ crib and watch him sleep several times.   Cry once because he’s a sleeping angel.  Giggle because he farted in his sleep.  Laugh harder because giggling caused me to fart.  Leave room before he wakes up.  Realize I’m behaving like a sorority girl on spring break.
  9. Wash more things.
  10. Look at Miles’ baby book.  Think of sweet and clever things to write.  Remember the laundry.
  11. Open the refrigerator at 8:45p.  Stare at its never changing contents.  Close the refrigerator.
  12. Worry about all the things I wanted to do that I’M NOT DOING.
  13. Make the bed.  I know, I’m weird.
  14. Pour a glass of wine.  Eat fruit and cheese and maybe a brownie and probably some potato chips with onion dip.  Eat more fruit to counteract chips.  Eat half a cookie.  Eat an apple slice.  Pour more wine and hide the brownies.
  15. Start to write.  Run out of clever, deep, thought provoking, humorous things to say.  Start thinking random thoughts.  Decide that would make an excellent post.  Commence writing after second glass of wine.
  17. Think about taking a shower.  Spoiler alert: My towel is still dry.
  18. Panic because I am getting NONE OF THE THINGS DONE.  Except washing things.
  19. Give up and watch DVR’d episodes of Law & Order: SVU.
  20. Add a number 20 because my OCD will not allow the list to end at 19.

Three hours of me time.  One hour spent panicking about what to do with me time.  110 minutes spent doing chores.  10 minutes spent drinking wine and eating random fridge food (like floor food, but on a higher shelf) and writing this nonsense.

I am making a better list for the M portion of next month’s M&M Night.  Positive things that happened tonight: Miles took six consecutive steps (!!!) before realizing he was walking and collapsing on his butt.  He picked up a banana and ate it by himself, without smashing any into his ears.  And I got lots and lots and lots and lots of snuggles.  Squee!

Come fold my laundry.  Clever ideas may arrive later this week.


PS – Do you watch The Walking Dead?  CAN YOU BELIEVE SUNDAY’S EPISODE?  I have spent an unhealthy amount of time worried about the lack of mental healthcare in the zombie apocalypse.  There are only two episodes left this season.  My brain and heart might explode.