If You Can’t Say Anything Nice… Write About It.

What Brightens My Day:

My five-year-old, Allison, after her doctor appointment (therefore alone for once in the backseat of my car), belting out Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone. In tune and heartfelt, to boot.

My seven-year-old, Hannah, creating a dioramic world of red-scarfed, pipe-cleaner reindeer, free-standing pipe-cleaner heart trees, origami snowflakes, and bejeweled Polly Pockets, blending almost indistinguishably against a lovingly painted background in an old cardboard box.

My nine-year-old, Tanner, wearing his (thankfully!) lightweight airplane pajamas under his clothes all day at school because changing was apparently not an option in his mad rush to beat his sisters to the last two packets of instant oatmeal. Maple flavored.

My husband, Aaron, kicking back in our IKEA Poang chair, eating a frozen Gogurt and watching a fresh episode (finally!) of Gilmore Girls with me. Oh, and making comments such as, “Ooooh, Rory shouldn’t have said that, huh Cat?”

What Bugs:

Debilitating cramps and snooze-inducing guest speakers during high-powered, work-related meetings.

Dry heaves brought on while unwittingly observing colleague scratch, peel and eat own skin during said high-powered, work-related meetings.

Bobble Head Jesus and the God Almighty Action Figure (Mint In Box!) on proud display in my neighbor’s cubicle.

Honestly.

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