Rage Against The Minivan

The Mystery of the Murky Bath (or, Houston, We Have a Floater)

I have tried, people. I have tried to refrain from this topic. But I cannot stop myself. After playgroup today, I was giving Jafta and India their usual pre-nap bath. All of the sudden, right before my very eyes, the bathtub gets cloudy. And brown. After a second, I realize that someone has pooped in the bathtub. Someone has taken a serious. poop. in the bathtub. I whisk the kids into my shower to clean them off, and immediately start the inquisition. However, the perpetrator remains at large. . . .

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For The Record

AN OPEN LETTER TO JAFTA HOWERTON My dearest son, I need to clear something up. When you are older and we look back on pictures from this time in our lives, I don't want you wondering why there are 100 pictures of India for every 1 picture of you. If that is the case, it is not because I love your sister more. It is because this is what happens when I try to take your picture: Just for the record. Love, Mom . . .

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NWA Day

I just saw this on my friend Kendra's blog, whose husband is a rapper (of the clean variety). It is hilarious and I had to share. I have totally done this in the car with my kids, when I've just gotta listen to some potty-mouthed music like Amy Winehouse.It also brings back some memories because I can remember singing this song at the top of my lungs in high school. But that is a story for another time . . . . . .

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A Load of Croc

My family has a love-hate relationship with Crocs. My kids love them, and I hate them. I tend to be on board with this other girl named Kristen, who describes them as the bane of modern civilization. I tried so hard to resist buying them for my kids. Friends were raving about their comfort , and all the kids at playgroup were wearing them. Jafta saw them in stores and begged and begged. Finally, I relented with India, because her feet were getting stinky in her Vans and sandals would not stay . . .

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New Friend

Jafta made a new friend today. The man was an employee at the airport and he was a "little person", if you will. I think he was in his 20's or 30's, but he was Jafta's height. Jafta was sure that they were the same age and the best of friends. Jafta followed him around for about an hour, talking about his new friend and wondering why he kept having to load suitcases. He kept saying, "where is my friend? why can't he play with me?" . . .

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Happy Mother’s Day!

We had a great mother's day today, despite the fact that we spent most of the day packing. We had lunch at Havana's, my favorite Cuban restaurant. Grandma and Grandpa joined us. . . .

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How It All Went Down

Okay, so I guess I should elaborate on the Dreadlock Disaster. My cryptic post yesterday was all my could muster in the midst of my grief. Yeah, that's right, grief. Stop rolling your eyes. I'm not being overdramatic. I would never do that.So step one was that I tried to convince Jafta that we would just cut his dreadlocks shorter. That seemed like a win-win to me. I gave them a good trim, but I didn't have a clue what I was doing. The dreadlocks started getting puffy at the tip where I cut . . .

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