Family

Ain’t No Cure

We are rapidly approaching the dog days of summer, those sagging days when it’s too hot and the kids are crabby … to say nothing of Mom.

My creativity has just about run out; I can’t come up with another idea for home-made frozen treats, or 7 clever things to do with sidewalk chalk, or tips for getting your kids to clean the house with you and think it’s fun … I just want to plonk them in front of the TV, pour myself a cold beer, and sit on the couch with a good book.

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Bun Has a Pizza in the Oven

Having talked about my children, it’s probably only reasonable that I now introduce my husband. If I’m to call the kids Ketchup and Mustard, I am sorely tempted to refer to my husband as hot dog. However for the sake of propriety, I think I shall instead call him Bun.

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Ketchup and Mustard

I mentioned in my first post that I’d been home with the kids for a couple of years — it would be sensible then, I suppose, if I were to introduce them.

I have two boys, Ketchup and Mustard. No, I’m not one of those weird celebrity parents who gives their children strange names — I just decided that I’d prefer to be a little bit private about my family and so I’ll refer to my two year old as Ketchup and my five-year-old as Mustard. Why those particular pseudonyms? Because I’m eating a hot dog at the moment, and and those names just came to mind!

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