Cereal Filler

Cereal Filler

The Hammer won’t eat anything.

For a while, we thought we had him with pieorogies, and pizza, and pancakes, but he soon abandoned his alliteration-based preferences and embarked on a hunger strike. Cooking food for him quickly became a chore when all he wanted was his bottle of milk.

He loves his snacks, though, and despite the fact that he has occasionally procured a potato chip or two (second kids FTW!), he mostly munches on Cheerios. And thank god, because not only does he actually eat them, they don’t require any prep!

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Stay Woke

Stay Woke

For the past week or so, ever since the baseball incident, Detective Munch has been at the top of his game.

He’s been on his best behavior, in a good mood, helpful with The Hammer, cooperative with us. There’s been nary a fit or whine-fest, and we only almost missed the school bus once. It’s kind of scary. He’s been so good it’s almost like our parenting is paying off!

This is when I need to remind myself not to get cocky, kid. Stay woke!

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The Chore of Common Core

The Chore of Common Core

When I get home from work, I’m pretty spent.

My days are usually filled with meetings and deadlines and fire drills and brainstorming and phone calls — capped off by a long commute on a crowded subway. So, by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is something mentally taxing. I want a drink, a seat and some television.

But, alas, I have kids, so before I get to do those things, I have to deal with the fruit of my loins first. And that means common core.

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Mother’s Day Made Easy With DIYZ

Mother’s Day Made Easy With DIYZ

Disclosure: This post is in collaboration with DIYZ. All opinions of apps and companies that help me complete DIY projects are my own.

When we moved to Raleigh in 2012, we bought a dining room table which came with a bench. But, the only bench the store had available was the display model. It wasn’t without some wear and tear, but we needed it. Obviously, a mere year and a half later, when we got back to Brooklyn, it broke.

The wood splintered on one of the legs and it was no longer stable enough to use. It seemed fixable, at least for someone who can fix things (read: not me), so we kept it in storage for when Mom and Buried got remarried.

To her chagrin, we’re still together, and the bench is still broken.

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