Braless Unbrushed Teeth PJ Stroll

You know you're scraping the bottom of the barrel when you take to the neighborhood (more on a recent shooting next door in the 'hood later) sidewalk in your mismatched Target PJs without a bra, littering the crisp morning air with unbrushed dragon breath and a mug of your fourth cup of coffee in your free hand. The other hand firmly grips a Jeep stroller full of Solenne. I draw the line at letting the children out in their jammies. However, I don't apply the same high standards to my dirty self. Have you ever tried to steer an umbrella stroller with one hand? Zigzagging results at best.

Thanks, Rebecca, for letting me crash your homeschooling schedule unannounced this morning with my greasy, make-up free disheveled morning self. I promise to call ahead next time, and I guess I'll even dress myself for the day.

Take a gander at Solenne's bruised ear, that is unless you are the talented, lovely pediatric orthopedic surgeon Dr. Cunningham, who advised me to try and keep falls to a minimum while Solenne recovers from her neck sprain. Someone please tell me how exactly a busy mother of three is supposed to minimize the likelihood of falls with a bumbling spark plug two-year-old who tries to keep up with her hyper big brothers? Let me know if you know. I'll give you a Bozo button, as my sister used to say when we were kids, way before we became kid factories.

Makes me think of the grotesque boxing ears Olympic wrestlers often end up with.

Right now Solenne is diligently busying herself with snatching Kade's Lincoln Logs and ruthlessly hammering him on the crown of his head with them. Better go play reluctant ref.