I gotta say, I'm not a big fan of those pants which...well, I won't say the brand name, but it's the one that labels your posterior as being juicy. I don't really need to draw more attention to my hindquarters, thankyoumovingon.
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When I found out I was having a baby boy, I quickly bought the most
masculine looking car seat I could find. Blue--dark blue--punctuated with every shade of blue. So what do I do if I have a baby girl next and I'm bitten by the pink bug, I wondered. I'd hate to toss a perfectly good car seat over the aesthetics.
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The first time they throw the bottle on the ground, it's kind of cute. They laugh, you bend over, and like the naive parent that you are, you give it back. But after doing it fifteen times straight, you realize that it's not so cute, and neither are herniated discs or painkillers.
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I used to live in Northern New Jersey, proudly known as "the embroidery capitol of the United States." Seriously. There's even a sign proclaiming the honor that's posted on the highway running through the town.
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The one time in my life I was totally dilligent about thank you notes was after the birth of my daughter. I couldn't thank everyone enough for nine months of love, support, and yeah, the gifts.
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I have found a fantastic new kids CD. In fact if you play it with your eyes closed and a latte in hand, it's almost like listening to a cool new indie band in your favorite coffee shop--if only coffee shops had Hot Wheels scattered around the floor. And the faint odor of soggy Cheerios.
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I am not apologetic that I use my daughter's chest to promote my own interests, tastes and sports affiliations. It's just a small part of my master plan to get her to agree with a few of them. If you share my perspective, you are going to have a field day at Reckon Wordwide, the online shop of poet, artist, and silkscreen master, Chris Weige.
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After being quarantined for three months with a tiny infant thanks to the advice of some old school pediatricians, I was ready to get out of house - rainy fall weather be damned. This is where I learned that my child thinks that blankets are for kicking to the ground, even in 40 degree temperatures.
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I may not be the handiest gal around, but I'm certainly not one to rely on my significant other to handle the "big stuff." And while you may not see me chopping logs in the backyard, I have been known to put together some tough toddler toys, some of which even required screwdriver usage.
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I am one of those people for whom one medicine cabinet is not enough. I have all manners of lotions and potions spilling out from every available crevice and corner in the bathroom. So when I run naked from the shower shouting about the joys of some new product, you have to believe it's something special.
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Ever since I got wind of the whole latex balloons are the devil stuff, I've been distraught. While I would hate for my daughter's birthday celebrations to be entirely balloon free, I also don't need to decorate the place with a bunch of colorful choking hazards.
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