Yesterday, while taking a mini break from my
addiction love of social media, I was brainstorming on ideas for my next few posts:
• More toddler quotes
• What my daughter is saying when she looks at me
• Reasons why I think you all haven’t been to a food truck yet
….to name a few.
Toward the end of my day, during my “nervous breakdown” over my son’s inability to listen, I had a huge
After a year of talking about my kids, I’m so grateful that blogging wasn’t a thing. Granted the internet wasn’t a thing. Journals were. So far, I haven’t found any and she hasn’t mentioned anything. Therefore, I have nothing to worry about.
Yup, you guys will never hear about the years of stuffing my messy room into my closet and under my bed. You’ll never hear about the time my “friends” from band teepeed our house the same night my brothers had parked an RV in front because we were having a family reunion and the “friends” were forced to clean it up.
Nope, no stories about missing the brake for the gas and driving my future car up onto the grass and inches from my bedroom window. Or that my mom would book our dentist appointment on Valentine’s Day so there was no candy that day. No candy.
That so bit.
No stories about the many trips my folks took to Vegas and I’d have my friends over. And NO ONE skinny dipped in the pool. Ever.
She did find a beer bottle cap though. And a shit load of M&M’s. Guess I didn’t clean up that well that time…
Aw yes, I am totally safe from you all hearing stories about my past.
My kids aren’t safe though. Their antics are an open book.