The Teething Mom: aka True Confessions of a Colicky and Fussy Newborn Mom. How cute is that?
Okay there are rules to accepting this award of course. Jack's motto first: "Rules are made to be broken", or what he actually says "The harder I try to be good the more I'm not good." Well said little man, well said. I told him to stop trying so hard and see what that gets him. He said "It will be very quiet then." LOL!
Soooo, here are the rules and regulations and terms and conditions. (Not that I'm currently working on a new website at work that is bogging me down with such trivial things as legal terms and credit card regulations and rules about purchasing and other things that make my head swim. I was an art major. Yikes.)
Rules of the Award:
1. Thanks to the person that gave you the award. A link back to them would also be appropriate.
2. Share 7 things about yourself. They mean 7 MORE things, because I share just about everything. (Even poop stories. Not mine of course. Not yet...)
3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers that you think are amazing. I think that will be an easy one!
4. Contact the bloggers you chose and let them know about the award. Share the love! Totally a work in progress and I may not get to it until tomorrow. Thank you all for your understanding. (GASP! is THAT the TIME???)
7 things to share about myself:
After reading Teething Mom's 7 things, I realize we have freaky things in common (memorization of phone numbers, constantly being told we're too loud, swear too much, fancied being a real writer some day, but definitely not the red sauce thing, cuz I just ate that for dinner. Kay, on with the show!)
1. I will not ever share a milk product with anyone. I don't think dairy and saliva should ever mix. Unless it's your own mix and you eat very quickly and don't look into the melty bits and wash the bowl quickly. I do NOT dunk cookies in milk. I do NOT drink cereal bowl milk leftover vomit. I do not like sharing licks of ice cream cones. I will (in the name of motherly duty "clean up" Jack's ice cream cone, but that's only because my neurotic fear of drips trumps any gag reflex I have of licking his ice cream spit).
2. When I eat out at restaurants, I pretend I'm a restaurant critic and start "assessing" the service, softness of the bread, temperature of the food, how the plate looks, etc. I don't go so far as to have a fake note pad with me to complete the charade, but let me tell you, I'm judging everything on and around my plate!
3. I had my palm read once years ago and found out I would die when I'm 92. I totally believed it, so I think I'm all set for many more years of living. The palm reader said "No one will take your life from you...you are too stubborn". Damn!
4. Nothing new to those who know me, but I can't kill anything. No bug. No spider. No creepy crawly. They are all "cute" to me and I even shoo fruit flies out the door rather than smacking at them.
5. When I speak to someone with an accent, I start to talk like them. Maybe I'm trying to make them feel better? Maybe I think they can understand me better? I don't know, but I consciously have to stop myself.
6. Ever since I was little, whenever a limo would pass our car on the highway I would think that the obviously rich and famous person inside would take one look at me and hastily pull our car over to the side of the road to let me know that they had just discovered the next big movie star or model or game show host. I really truly believed that. I still turn my head to show my good side when a limo passes...you know, just in case.
7. If I could pick my dream job, right now at this moment, I would have to steal Thomas Mangelsen's day job. Wildlife photographer extraordinaire!
So What Are You Making for Dinner?
Cate on the Run
Diarrhea of the Keyboard
The Ramblings of an Ordinary Woman
Food to Run For
Middle Ground Mom
Who Says That?
Life & Times of a Self-Proclaimed Saucy Bitch
Mum in Flip Flops
Tomorrow I'll tell Jack that my blog won a nice little friendly award. Let's see what he has to say about that! Here's my guess:
Jack: Tell me again what sh*t means?