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Mother of the Year Goes to.... Not Me

Every morning I go to the gym to exercise. I love it because I have a lot of friends there (it's my adult interaction for the day...hahah...but seriously...), endorphins are released, I feel powerful and strong....etc. Fast forward to about 10 minutes after I arrive home.

Kids are fighting over who grabbed the box of cereal first.

Tears are rolling down cheeks from, "Cameron looked at me in a mean way."

Fights are breaking out between who has to be the flippin' monkey in the middle...

You get the idea.

So pretty much all the good I do at 5:30 in the wee early morning hours gets completely undone. (Perhaps I should schedule my workouts to after the kids leave for school instead?)

Anyway, today was no different. The kids actually all got ready on their own really well without any fights. They had a good 20 minutes to kill before we had to leave for school. They decided to play a game (but not the blasted Monkey in the Middle game...No! No! I banned that game [and 'jinx&#…

Oh, Butter Boy!

I wouldn’t be lying if I said I got a little cocky at a lot of things. I was one prideful kid. One time I tried standing on top of the toilet to check myself out in the bathroom mirror. I did it all the time, but this time the seat was up, so my foot went down inside the yucky, wet toilet bowl. My whole family made fun of me after that. They still do.

We all did some silly things that we still get teased about till this day. One night out family was sitting down eating dinner when a neighbor called asking if they could borrow some butter. I told my mom, and she made Lance deliver it. The only problem was, I didn’t get a name from the caller. So Lance had to go up and down the streets knocking on each neighbor’s door to see if they needed some butter. When he came back with the butter still in hand, he was fuming. (Lance always had a temper). We all got a good laugh at it. We called him “butter boy” from then on. Even to this day at Thanksgiving dinners, if someone needs the butter passed to them, we tell them to just ask “the Butter Boy.”

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