Manpower and money hurting city’s efforts to repair streets
We're Fine. They're Fine.
I am the Meanest Mama in the World. That’s the word around my house, at least. The criteria for earning this title is ever-changing. Some days, the bar is as low as telling my children that they have to bathe. Other times, I have to work harder, like when I impose a consequence: ‘You hit your sister with the iPad, so now it’s mine.’
Oh, spring break. How I used to love thee. Ski trips or beach trips, entire days with friends, and no school!! One year when I was a kid, my family returned from a beach trip to find it was snowing in Mississippi, in March—spring break was just magical.
The summer after first grade I traveled to Houston, Texas, to visit my best friend, Katie Rogers, whose family had recently moved there. I was traveling with Lindsay Hines Dehmer who was best friends with Katie’s older sister. Back then, children flying alone could be escorted onto the plane by their parents.
A friend recently reminded me about a book I read several years ago that I really loved, What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. In it, a woman wakes up from a bad fall to find that amnesia has taken all memory of the last 10 years of her life. In her last memory, she is pregnant with her first child and blissfully in love with her husband.
There is no pride like slacker pride. I can say this because I am one of the largest purveyors of slacker pride in the south.
It should probably bother me more than it does, but I am a disorganized, procrastinating lazy bones. I am constantly playing catch up following procrastination or clean up following forgotten events or duties.
This is probably a horrible idea. As are many of the things I think will be great fun, like that perm in third grade, taking two toddlers to the Pumpkin Patch on Groupon Day by myself without a stroller, allowing an Elf on the Shelf to enter my home. These were all seemingly grand ideas prior to their enaction.