So, Chuck and I had a lovely anniversary dinner at Mohegan Sun's Tuscany. Even with my limited cooking ability I could have made a better fettuccine with bacon and green peas (salt shaker, anyone?), and the waitress forgot about us for an hour, but that's neither here nor there. I was dining with my amour.
And he sat through the whole dinner and didn't need crayons or juice with a straw and he didn't want to sit on my lap and stick his fingers in my food!
There was a banana foster thingamabob on the dessert menu, but Chuck told me he doesn't actually like bananas.
That kind of soured the edible banana negligee I had waiting at home (next post: how to make lingerie with fruit. You heard it here first!).
I guess there's always next year. The traditional gift is wood. Wooden underwear? A wooden trapeze? The possibilities are endless.
One of the best parts of the night was that I could let me bump hang free. I suck it in all day at work and cover it up with jean jackets and large purses (I've also been walking like a hunchback), so it felt nice to let it flap in the wind. Seriously, I felt like a freak with an extra appendage who was finally able to dangle it in public, without my co-workers pointing and exclaiming, "She's pregnant again?!"
I'm telling my boss on Monday.
I've been reading up on toddlers in hopes of better understanding my soon-to-be three year old, Cameron. He's our third son, but he&...
Toddlers mispronounce words. It's just what they do, and it's what makes the toddler years so darn cute. "Lello" for &...
I’m finally back from the David Gray concert in New York City. Yes, that was Saturday night and today is Tuesday, but I fell so in love with...
At least I can admit that I'm emotionally immature, juvenile and unsupportive. Subtitle: Chuck could have done betterTry as I might, I cannot stop fantasizing about Chuck being creamed by a Mack truck (I know, poor Chuck, you must think I am the wife from...