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The Sexiest Men of Toddler TV

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My husband is wonderful. Doesn’t like my writing about him, but is nevertheless fantastic. Now that I’m middle-aged and married with kids, what I find attractive in men has completely changed. Working out at the gym isn’t sexy because that means more time away from family. Begrudgingly wearing matching Christmas pajamas? Super hot.  While he’s at work, I’ve replaced him with new boyfriends from children’s programming. Kid stuff is intolerable without some courtesy eye candy.  Here are my top pics:   The Dad From Cocomelon Be still my heart, green eyes. From romantically dancing with his wife in the kitchen, to helping with dishes, he’s 100% heartthrob. Not only does he play with his kids, he patiently laughs off their shenanigans. He’s humble enough to take public transportation, and my goodness, have you seen those big hands? Swoon!  2. Blue Shirt From The Wiggles His name is Anthony Field, and he’s a 58 year old former preschool teacher, soldier, and pop musician. His openness abo

Why People Are Obsessed With Their Kids

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Just a few years ago, I convinced myself that if I ever had kids, I wouldn’t talk about them incessantly. The universe abounds with other topics, many of which won’t thoughtlessly annoy people who don’t (or can’t) have kids.   Then I had them and learned that those fascinating topics are still out there, I just can’t access them because my brain is mush. No one warned me that they do that. In fact, a lot of things were left out:  They : Once you give birth, you’ll forget all about the pain.  Me : I’ll make them pay. They : Take time to play with your kids and enjoy them.  Me : I don’t enjoy playing with my kids. Their games are dumb, and the three year old criticizes my sand building.  They : Take lots of pictures! Me : They stole my phone.  They : Write down the cute things they say. Me : I don’t even write down the cute things I say.  They : No screen-time . Me : I’m not firing the iNanny.  They : Don’t yell at them. Then they won’t listen if you need to yell.  Me

I’m Unqualified To Babysit My Kids

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If I were Zach’s and Kate’s nanny, and not their mother, I would have been fired a long time ago. Despite being the most influential person in their lives, my standard for hired help is much higher than for myself. If I came home to toddlers eating crayons for dinner while watching a documentary on Richard Ramirez, I would be furious. Yet when I’m watching them, I consider it a successful day if everyone is alive by the end of it.   My performance review of myself: 1. How has your relationship developed with the children? If I try to take a bath, they climb in and pee on me.  2. What kind of healthy foods do you serve? High fructose corn syrup is a vegetable, right? It might be a whole grain. 3. What is the bedtime routine like? I routinely scream into a pillow.     4. How much screen-time are the children exposed to? I don’t know what they do when I’m not there. 5. What disciplinary measures do you use? Darwinian ones. 6. Give an example of when you used positive parenting

The Mean-ager

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(His shirt says “Kind people are my kinda people.”) We went to a park and two boys and a girl, all about 13 years old, were sitting and chatting in front of the entrance to the slide, subsequently blocking it from my son. I told Zach to ask them politely if he can use it. He ran up, pointed, and asked if he could use the slide. The girl didn’t fully understand toddler English, and replied patronizingly, “Yeah, a slide!” The boys did and started getting up for him, to which she snapped, “I’m not getting up!”From the ground, I yelled up to them, “I told him to ask nicely.” She was huffy, but did. Zach and I thanked them, and the boys smiled and gave a hearty, “Yeah, no problem!” and the visibly irritated (and extremely pretty) girl sat back down.  Now when a woman becomes a mother, she develops the superpower to destroy a girl down to her essence. As soon as they hand us our beautiful newborn daughters, we suddenly have the ability to plant seeds of shame and can water them throughou

Hope You Like Your Birthday Hooker

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Near where my husband grew up, a new business appeared a few doors down from one of his favorite pizza shops. It claimed to be a massage parlor, but I told Jason, “That’s clearly a rub-n-tug.” He was skeptical, but upon inspection, did think it was odd that they were open until 11pm, and the only way to get in was by calling the number from the Post-It note on the front door.  I looked them up on a site that lists local massage parlors offering “extra” services, and sure enough, there it was. In fact, dozens of them were listed, and while reading the reviews, I suddenly realized that my mom accidentally sent me to one on my 25th birthday.  Upon reflection, they weren’t even trying to disguise it. This place was in Beaverton, Oregon and advertised as an “Asian spa”. I had never had a salt scrub added to a massage before, so I assumed side boobs and inner thighs were part of it. As far as her “thoroughness”, I reasoned that she should be lauded, not criticized, for going above and beyond

Funnymoon: Nemacolin

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Our first minimoon was at the Nemacolin resort in Southwestern Pennsylvania. I chose it because we had passed it on a trip to Maryland, and Jason asked, “What’s that place there?” I took that to mean that he was impressed, but in actuality, he was trying to remember if it was somewhere he had played golf. Nemacolin: Where Jason May or May Not Have Once Played Golf My first thought when we pulled up was, “I regret not going through a carwash first.” However, the valet was professional and didn’t write “Wash me” on the back of our Equinox. When we got to the room, there was a bottle of champagne to congratulate us, and I asked if they had something non-alcoholic. They replaced it with sparkling cider, and Jason later went through the menu to discover the vast price difference. To his credit, he doesn’t drink since being with me and never treats my alcoholism like it’s a punishment. The least I could have done was let him drink the $50 bottle of champagne and buy my own $1.50 bott

Funnymoon: Fort Klingensmith

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You tried.  Due to limited vacation days, our honeymoon has to be broken up into a few small getaways throughout the year. Our first excursion was over Memorial Day, and along the way, we stopped by Hannastown, where Fort Klingensmith is. "No military force in history could penetrate those walls." -Jason Klingensmith  Jason’s 5th great-grandfather, Johannes, built it with his brother John Peter. They moved to the colonies when they were young and became scouts for General George Washington during the French and Indian War. Eventually, they plopped down about thirty-five miles from where Jason grew up and worked on their farms with the occasional break to impregnate their wives. Zachy happily playing where his foremothers were publicly shamed.  All the Klingensmiths around here can be traced back to Andreas Klingenschmidt who owned a bell factory in Leipzig, Germany in the 16th century.  (Klingen=bell, schmidt=metalsmith) They probably immigrated here to escap