I’m not like those other moms. I’m a cool mom. 

Quote from my favorite movie aside (it’s from Mean Girls. If you didn’t know that, you need to go watch it as soon as possible or we can no longer be friends), tonight is going to be fun. 

Hubby is working tonight, but the kids and I went to my parents’ house for dinner and fun time with my nephew Max. We played games, ate pizza, and set off teeny fireworks. 

Now we are back at home, about to do a Netflix New Year’s Eve countdown. Seriously though, parents salute you, Netflix. These countdowns are genius. One minute of fun and then we can get those kiddos off to bed at a decent hour. 

We are going to FaceTime with Daddy. And when the countdown is over, we will shout, “Happy New Year!” And then. We will use our confetti popper. 

I found this bad boy for under $2 at Walmart. I’m a little terrified of it. It cautions that there may be recoil. It warns not to point it at animals or people. It prohibits use by anyone under 16 years of age. I’m probably going to regret this. 

Pictures of the aftermath to come. At least my kids will always know I tried to be fun. 

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Wipes in the Fridge

Annabelle has become obsessed with having a baby wipe with her when she lays down for her nap. In case her nose runs. (Can you tell we live in coastal Georgia, the allergy capital of the world?)

Today while I was getting her ready for nap time, she predictably asked for a wipe. 

So I checked in her room. The wipes weren’t there. 

Next I checked the bathroom. No wipes. 

I checked the living room and the dining room and the kitchen. I checked my room and my son’s room. No sign of them. 

I checked her bookbag. Sans wipes. 

Finally I called my husband since he was the last person I saw with the missing wipes. He told me Noah was the last one to have them. 
At which point my children gleefully informed me the wipes were in the fridge. 

Sure enough, there they were. 


Because that makes perfect sense in a house with two little kids.