Alright, mammas; it’s time to take a stroll down memory lane!
Do you remember B.A. (no, not Bad. Ass., but Before. Amazon.) when we actually had to put on pants, get in the car, and DRIVE to the mall to buy stuff?
It was a dark time, I know, but stay with me! When you got to the mall and wandered around for awhile, you probably stumbled upon a futuristic-looking store with oversized massage chairs that just beckoned you to come in, take a seat, and put up your feet for awhile… Remember?
Of course you do! It was Brookstone and it had the coolest, most-overpriced gadgets of any other store in the mall! Good news; Brookstone is still going strong and you can still purchase their overpriced gadgets via their stores (yes; malls are still a thing!), website, and catalog, which is where we recently did our shopping.
Curious as to what Brookstone sells in 2017? We were too, so here is a quick buyer’s guide to all things Brookstone:
I pretty much feel like a failure most days when it comes to parenting. For about three minutes, most days, I am convinced I am the worst mom around. So, another confession. If you haven’t read last month’s article where I began confessing bad mommy sins, click here (I am writing these blog articles to purge my soul of bad mommy sins.) Where was I? Oh, yeah. Confession: sometimes I look at my kids and think they are the most ungrateful, rude, little turds, ever. I am appalled every single time my eleven-year-old daughter sighs at me when I ask her to take out the recycling. I am equally outraged when I make Runzas (from SCRATCH! Here’s the link to the yummy recipe) and she tosses food in the trash saying, “You know I don’t like chicken.” (There is no chicken in a Runza, and she does too eat chicken). Or my bitty baby, she’s 18 months old, she refuses to say Mama. There are two Mamas in my house (lesbians, you know), and I just know she is being stubborn. She can say, “uh oh,” “bye,” “hi!” and “no, no, no.” But Mama? There are TWO of us answering to the name. When I feel the absolute rage fueled by disrespect, boredom or just developmental milestone charts, rather than drink (which if you need to – go on with your lushy self) I look for ANY sign that I am doing a good job, that I am not failing at life, and those signs come from the World-wide Web and all its glorious people.
Dear Olive Garden,
Where do I even begin… I guess I should start out by stating that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. When I was growing up, it was such a treat to dine at your establishment and feast on both delicious bowls of spaghetti and those perfectly soft and salty bread sticks. As I grew, your Tiramisu and Moscato made my taste buds sing! Thank you for making these little outings so delicious and memorable.
Now comes the difficult part of this letter… I am very upset with you, OG. You have cut me where I hurt the most: my tender mother’s heart.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I returned from traveling bliss: A glorious, baby-less, all-inclusive anniversary trip to Cancun.