17 Patriotic Pennant and Bunting Templates To Make — Tip Junkie.

Back in the newborn days, when the husband and I sprung loose for one of our first baby-free days we made our way to Costco. I skipped joyously from sample to sample declaring that this is, without a doubt, the best sample day in the history of Costco.

Then Gwen and  I swung by to pick up some milk on Wednesday and encountered another great day of samples. They were all for Gwen. Yogurt, mac and cheese, and oreos. OREOS I tell you. It was bananas.

I did declare on instagram that it was the best sample day ever, and immediately wanted to take it back. Because, I mean really it doesn’t compare to Superbowl Sunday when they let you try every type of chicken wing or the day they gave out diapers.

The point of this, is that perhaps it’s not too late to check out some of these end of school celebrations and traditions. Are you looking forward to summer or dreading it?

20 End of School Celebrations and Traditions — Tip Junkie.

I could feel the bitterness, frustration and resentment brewing inside all weekend. I could barely focus at church on Sunday, picked a fight on my husband’s birthday and finally, on Tuesday I snapped.  I stewed in the shower about my plight, about how I couldn’t keep up with the laundry, the dinners, the cleaning.

I came down immediately after my shower and gave a profound speech I had rehearsed while not shaving my legs. I yelled, I cried, I attacked (even when I meant not to) and I got it all off my chest.

I am overwhelmed.

We are in a time in age where stays at home moms are gaining more praise and recognition for their work. But until you’re balls deep in this thing called homemaking, you truly have no clue how difficult it can be. Let’s face it, I’m whining about vacuuming, dishes, cooking and mopping for crying out loud. How hard can it be?

Last week I spent an entire day prepping our house before we left for a weekend trip. I wanted it to be pristine for when we came back. I vacuumed, mopped, laundered and dished until it was time to leave. I worked my ass of, just like I try to do on a weekly basis or more accurately, right before we have guests. We came back and dumped a bomb on the joint that I haven’t been able to get a handle on since.

Oh sure, I do the daily stuff that keeps us from living like complete slobs. But the dogs are uber-shedding, the baby’s toys are everywhere and the laundry pile that has been sitting there for a week still hasn’t been put away.

Everyday I look around the house; get frustrated, anxiety follows suit and the next thing I know I’m sitting on the couch hiding underneath a blanket and an episode of Friends. Why can’t someone else just do it all for a week? Just so long as I don’t have to do it and it gets done, just once.

Which is basically what I said to my husband through bouts of anger, crying and staring shamefully at the floor.

So then, why can’t someone just do it for me?

Because I’m the unemployed mother of a one year old, that’s why. I’m home everyday with the most pressing part of my schedule being grocery shopping on Fridays.

That’s why.

This is also the downfall of my situation. We are here everyday creating messes, using our home to its utmost potential. Once the breakfast dishes are done it’s time to make lunch and after lunch comes snacks and then it’s time for dinner and so on. Just after you’ve mopped there’s a baby throwing grilled cheese sandwiches and cereal onto it while the dogs run around dropping fur like it’s going out of style. It’s never ending, there aren’t any weekends and sometimes you just want a freaking break.

I made this known during my speech and I realized that there is no break. We’re not going to hire someone to clean our house for us. My husband can’t be expected to come home from work and clean. This is life, the dreamy stay at home housewife life I dreamed out five years ago.

So I sucked it up and vacuumed and mopped my floors after the husband swept for me.

And I feel better already.

Family fun: $1 movies all summer long | Reno Gazette-Journal | rgj.com.

Today is my husband’s birthday so I figured it’s as good a time as any to brag about his general awesomeness. You know, like how he’s got to be the sweetest man in the history of this planet or how he’s the best dad ever. Yea, that type of stuff.

Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky as to have such a great man as my husband and the father to my child. Then he tries to give me an annoyingly awkward bed-hug and I’m put at ease. (That’s a little inside joke that I know you’re so glad I included here, since you want to hear about jokes you don’t get. And no, bed-hug is not an innuendo).

But for reals. A big giant happy birthday wish to the man that makes my life whole. We will be celebrating with a plate of some insanely delicious chocolate chip cookies, milk, two extra days off of work and a whole lot of sleeping in.

Well, my friends, it’s simply because  iphones and period tracking calendar apps didn’t exist.

I recently downloaded an app which is discreetly named “My Days.” I think its main goal is to chart everything for getting pregnant, which is fun to see when you’re just tracking things to track them. It’s like a lesson about your body, the psychology behind your actions during any given time of the month and a fine reassurance that you’re not pregnant. Except when it was quite alarming to see “your period was supposed to start 5 days ago” on the bottom of the calendar.

Anyways. I highly recommend you get yourself this app or one like it. You can track when you’re “intimate” which is funny in itself to see on a calendar and really keeps you in check with that. Even I get a little depressed when I look at a calendar and don’t see a red heart for awhile.

It tells you when you’re ovulating, which puts that week of uber-horniness into perspective, and it lets you know when you’re going to start that lovely aunt flo. So for once, you might be able to prepare for the event. Why does this always take me by surprise? It’s not like it doesn’t happen month after month.

Beware, however. All this tracking makes you acutely aware of how and when you can get pregnant. This may cause baby fever and may lead your husband to ask, “is this part of your ovulating? Thinking about baby names?”

It just might husband, it just might.

Gwyneth and I have ventured out a couple of times, and I can’t help but be confused. Here it is, a toddler story time that is meant for children from nine to 18 months. This is a stage in life where they are unable to communicate aside from yelling, are learning how to crawl or walk and exploring the world around them.

So can somebody please explain to me how and why a story time that is meant for this particular age group expects children to sit and listen to a librarian read a book or follow directions to a song?

Gwyneth is in the running amuck stage and I am powerless to control her unless I want a temper tantrum to occur. Unless she’s in danger, she can run where she wants, especially in a room full of children that is designed and meant for children. I expect nothing but the same from the other parents and their children.

Unfortunately story time is full of a bunch of uptight strict-o parents who like to force their children to sit still, conform and not play with the other children. Lest not forget about the librarian who expects them to listen and gets bitchy when they (the one year olds) approach her while she’s reading.

I honestly expect story time to be children running amuck, touching each other and playing with one another. But there we all are, sitting in a room, judging. God forbid my baby run up behind the librarian, run to the door or gasp! not sit down and listen. Or better yet, call the press when my child touches or interacts with another child.

Instead of a relaxing, encouraging atmosphere it’s a room full of stressed out parents looking over their shoulders making sure their child isn’t playing with other kids or interacting the wrong way with the librarian. And the kids are frustrated with being told no constantly, which just causes them to act out more.

I can’t decide if we should continue going or not, simply because of how crappy it makes me feel as a parent. Why is my child the only one running up front and not sitting down? It just plain makes you feel like shit.

 I feel a calling to go and let Gwen do whatever she wants and not care what anyone thinks, just to prove (mostly to myself) that it’s okay. What’s the worse that can happen? We get kicked out of a story time meant for young toddlers for letting my daughter be a young toddler?

{Simply Montessori: Printable Father’s Day Interview Poster.}

Positively Splendid {Crafts, Sewing, Recipes and Home Decor}: Fathers’ Day Photo Collage + Free Printables.