Monthly Archives: July 2014

Blog Tour: Answers to Questions You Never Even Asked

So, apparently there’s this thing among bloggers where they “tag” each other on their blogs and get each other to answer a series of questions. It’s like a chain letter, except that you not only answer it, you make other people read it, too! When my (Jac’s) friend Jenn at tagged me to do one of these, I considered just ignoring her. But then I remembered that she has been VERY helpful to me in starting up this blog and figuring out twitter and reminding me of the difference between a web host and a website builder, and I’m worried that if I ignore her, she’ll start to ignore me. But more importantly, I found that I really ENJOYED reading her answers. I got to know my friend Jenn a little better, and that was nice! I decided to do it, and I also recruited Juli to answer the questions too, so if you like this, you’ll be doubly happy. And if you don’t, you can be annoyed with BOTH of us, which is just the way I like it.

1. What am I working on?

Jac: I’m working on being more patient. I’m working on complaining less. I’m working on finding time to exercise. But for my blog I’m working on not having so much fun with it (and with social media in general) that I totally lose touch with the rest of my life. So I guess you could say that I’m working on maintaining eye contact with my family members and keeping a handle on my laundry pile.

Juli: In all seriousness, I am currently working on a poem about pee on the bathroom floor, and how I long for the day that my bathroom is pee-free. I am also working on a large cup-o-candies that my husband brought me from a late-night run to 7-eleven. And if you were wondering, the answer is yes. They are delicious.

2. How Does My Work Differ from Others of the Genre?

Jac: There are actually quite a few blogs like ours out there, but the fact that Juli and I have each other makes this one different. We really “get” each other’s sense of humour and parenting style, even (and especially) in online chats, and it’s been fun to share ideas with each other and to share our conversations with our Bloopies. What also sets us apart, I think, is the line we try to walk between honesty and complaining. Mostly, we make fun of ourselves and each other a lot, which we think is funny, even if no one else does.

Juli: I like to think that we keep it light, fun and funny at TwoFunMoms. There are heavy (and heady) opinions all over the interweb; lots of comparisons, lots of information, and lots of choices presented for parents to make, which I think often have us all feeling overwhelmed, and guilty, because we are SO ready to believe that we’re doing it all wrong. I think we need a break, a laugh-break, in the midst of the day’s craziness, and that’s what Jac and I try to put out there. The BEST compliment I have ever received about the blog, which I think sums up exactly what we are trying to do, was given to me by another parent, who has two very small children. She said that she would read our blog posts in the midst of her day’s chaos, and it helped to lighten her mood right there, in the moment, even with both children melting down around her. The idea that we could give parents a solidarity break—a “you’re not alone” when they are feeling SO alone, is exactly why I want to do this. Also it’s fun, and helps me to get the chaos out of my own system. Very cathartic.

3. How do I Write / Create What I Do?

Jac: When I have an idea, I have to write it down immediately. I just word-vomit it all out onto a computer, or a journal page, or a napkin … usually in point form. Then when I get the chance, I write it out in big-people sentences. When it comes time to publish it, I “edit” it approximately 97 times until I’m happy with it. I sometimes don’t think I’m actually a writer; I’m just an editor of my own words.

Oh, and I also think about what I should write when I’m supposed to be doing other things. The other day I got off the freeway at the wrong exit because I was thinking too much. I hope they don’t start handing out tickets for that!

Juli: Usually when the thing that I am drawing inspiration from is happening, in real time (my kid said something hilarious, or is peeing all over the bathroom floor—stuff like that), I grab my phone and quickly write a word or a sentence (whatever I have time for, before pee is tracked onto the carpet, for example) that will help me remember that moment, to conjure up the feelings and frustrations and humour of that moment, later, when the kids are in bed and I actually have time to write about it.

4. How Does Your Writing / Creative Process Work?

Jac: I mostly write with a computer on my lap, on the couch, when I should be in bed. Then, when it’s finished, Juli edits my work for me, which is SO helpful, and then I save what I’ve done until it’s time to post it online.

As far as pictures for the blog are concerned, I take pictures with my iPhone, or my regular old digital camera, and we generally have a no-filter, no-photo-shop style around here. This blog is about finding the hilarious in the mundane, and presenting life as it is. I kind of feel like if people think, “Wow, what a gorgeous picture!” they might not notice that the kid in the picture has her finger up her nose. Plus, photo editing takes time and talent, and I’m much more worried about the word editing.

Juli: I sit on the couch with my husband (you know, “quality time”), and write, and snack, and watch a show, and play a candy-match game, and then write some more. Eventually I will fall asleep, and at that point, the writing is done for the night. When my turn to post is coming up (usually a day or two before), I will send the post to Jac, so she can add what I like to call her “Jacqueline Sparkle,” meaning she edits all of the grammar mistakes and “proper” writing particulars that she is so good at seeing, and makes suggestions for ways to improve the post. I am free to accept or reject these suggestions, but usually they are great and I keep them—we have discovered that we are of one mind about many things, such as what is funny and what is not so funny (but maybe SEEMED funny to me, very late at night). After she sends it back to me I make my final edit, and then try to think of a picture that sums up the spirit of the post, and a caption for that picture. Then I post, sit back, and wait for all of the accolades to roll in … from Jac’s family members. (Just kidding. But they are wonderful! So encouraging!) (Jac here. This is usually true. But also, my mom only likes us on Facebook because she forgot to log out one time when I was over there so I “liked” us on her behalf. I wonder if she’s noticed yet.)

Juli's work station. This is very similar to Jac's work station, only Jac's has cheese instead of chocolate and a laptop instead of a tablet. Also, it looks like Juli needs a refill.

Juli’s work station. This is very similar to Jac’s work station, only Jac’s has cheese instead of chocolate and a laptop instead of a tablet. Also, it looks like Juli needs a refill.

Now that we’ve answered, we’re supposed to nominate three other bloggers to do this, too. Because of how it’s a chain letter blog tour, remember? I nominate:

– Louise Chapman at Louise and I played football together (really!), and it was awesome. She writes a blog that got her nominated for the top 30 Ultimate Blogger competition. And she was a runner up! So she’s basically famous, and you should check out her blog!

– Kara Overton at, a fellow mommy blogger I “met” on twitter. I love her blog. She is totally honest and vulnerable, and she is definitely a capital-w Writer; her posts are so beautifully written, personal and universal at the same time. I hope she answers these questions so I can get to “know” her better.

– Amanda Arneill at Amanda is a cousin of a friend of mine, and she started her blog to record their family’s journey with her daughter’s rare heart condition. She has continued to do this as her daughter has gotten older, and now she recently had another baby that her readers (like me!) can watch grow up. Amanda may not have time to answer these questions anytime soon, but maybe she’ll be relieved that this gives her something positive to blog about, because having a new baby and a two-year-old at the same time can make you want to write negative things. I should know.

Six Fun Kids!

When the two fun moms get together to have a playdate, we bring our six fun kids together too! Last week we went to have a swim in Jac’s parents’ pool, and because we try to make the most of the time we spend together, we of course decided to post about it.

We took a picture of each of the four “big” kids making their best silly faces, and then we interviewed them about what they thought of their Mom’s blog. Each child was supposed to answer the same question in his or her own cute and hilarious way, but—in a development surprising to absolutely no one—none of the kids behaved as they were supposed to. But it’s okay. We fun moms can make it work. We’ll just tell you some things they did say.



: So, you know how I’m writing all the time? Do you know what I’m writing?

A: Uh-huh

Juli: What do you think we should write about? What would be a good story idea for us?

A: Um … A banana with a moustache and nothing happened!

Juli: Nothing happened to him?

A: Yeah!

Juli: So … He’s just hanging out and enjoying life as a banana with a moustache?

A: Yeah! Um … A banana with a moustache jumping into a swimming pool!

Juli: ….

A: And then it could be about Spider-man, who loses the fight, and throws a moustache into the swimming pool, then jumps out of the swimming pool and jumps into a bucket of bananas, and then gets out of the bucket of bananas, then he’s covered in monkeys, and then he gets chomped by this giant Pac-man.

Juli: Um. Okay!


IMG_0624Jac: What about you, G? Do you know what I’m writing?

G: No.

Jac: Yes, honey, you know, when I’m on the computer all the time? Writing?

G: Um… No.

Jac: And you sit right beside me, and ask what I’m doing, and look at the computer, and there’s a drawn picture of me and Juli and all you kids, and—

G: Oh!

Jac: Right! It’s called a blog, remember? And we write about our lives and our kids and stuff? Do you have any ideas? What should we write about? You can say anything at all!

G: I don’t know.

(And when I want her to be quiet, she’s FULL of chatter. Sigh.)



: S, how about you? What do you think mommy should write abo—


Juli: Uh, okay. (Gets water). Okay, what do you think we should write about, if we could write any crazy or cool story in the world?

S: Um … (chugging water) … um … um … Frozen, goes in a pool, he saves some superheroes, and then, he jumps into the pool, and then, uh p-, uh, a giant monster came and … hurts the girl, and then the superheroes comed and saved the girl.

(This didn’t make much sense to us, either.)


IMG_0629All E would say when we asked her anything about the blog, or Mommy’s writing, or story ideas, or computers, or absolutely anything was “I don’t know.” So we’ll just share something else funny that happened.

Jac’s sister-in-law arrived after we got home from the pool and the kids were playing. She peeked into the playroom, and said hi to the kids in there.

E saw her and started to jump up and down with excitement. “Hi! Hi! Hi! This is my friend A!” and then she bent down to where he was sitting on the floor and KISSED HIM ON THE HEAD. Oh, and did we mention that this was the first time that they met? A was perplexed, to say the least. But he kindly went back to his block tower without comment.

Finally, I’m sure you want to know what we snacked on while we were together. We of course had fresh, home-made baking. Presentation is key.


To clarify, this is what they looked like BEFORE we started to eat any.

So there you have it! A glimpse into the minds of our six (well, four) fun kids! You’ll be pleased to note that we will likely not be writing the stories that our children have suggested. Unless we get really desperate, of course. In that case, a banana with a moustache may start to sound like a pretty good idea.

Encouragement for Parents Everywhere: The Solidarity Pound It

I was driving through a campground last night on my way home to sleep (because that’s the only way to “camp” when you have a baby) when I passed a dad leaving the campsite playground with his daughter. He had a thick moustache and dark curly hair, and while he was too young to be this girl’s grandfather, he was probably an older-than-average dad. His face was set in a determined scowl—there was underlying frustration present, but he was totally calm. And his daughter? She was having a full-on, high-volume, kicking-and-screaming fit, and he was dragging her along beside him until he picked her up, firmly but carefully, so he could walk faster, with her kicking him in the stomach and screaming into his ear. His face remained stern but determined.

I was so darn proud of that stranger! I have NO idea what was going on in their story, why this girl was flipping out, what would happen when they got to their campsite, whether or not this guy was actually even her dad. But I just wanted to jump out of my car and say, “Hey you! Stranger! You are having a rough moment, and you are HANDLING it. You are going to survive this tantrum, and the next one too. I don’t know you, but I am with you, man. Keep on keepin’ on. Parent away. I support you!”

But of course I didn’t. I can only imagine dealing with a public meltdown and then suddenly having to also deal with a crazy stranger trying to talk to me. That would not be helpful at all. So I stayed away from this gentleman who was clearly (and understandably) already at the end of his rope.

But it gave me an idea.

We need a gesture. Something like a tip-of-the-hat, a wink, the A-OK, or the Vulcan Salute. Something that communicates, instantly and silently, “You’re doing a great job, parent. Keep up the good work. I’m with you.”

If I may, I’d like to humbly suggest the Solidarity Pound It. Basically, it’s the classic “pound it out” manoeuver in which you punch someone else’s fist, only in this case you’re pounding your own fist. Imagine you are gripping two huge beer steins and then you “cheers” them together with enthusiasm. This is the Solidarity Pound It.

Please note: ANYONE, parent or not, can use this—and they should! Sometimes, we parents are extra self-conscious when surrounded by people who do not have children. We worry that we are bringing chaos and destruction to a place where there would otherwise be calm serenity. Because, usually, we are. So if you are a professional on a commuter train, reading your e-book or working on your tablet, and you see a parent struggling to keep her children from disrupting the entire train car with their ridiculous arguing, a smile and a Solidarity Pound It would be thoroughly appreciated.

Here are some more examples of where this can and should be used:

– There’s a baby crying on an airplane, and you are sitting across the aisle with three people between you. You catch the flustered mother’s eye. Solidarity Pound It.

– There’s a woman at the grocery store going the opposite direction from you, so you pass each other in every aisle. She has two kids with her, and they are getting whinier and whinier every time you pass them. Then they are suddenly quiet and you notice an opened package of cookies in the cart. As you pass her again: Solidarity Pound It.

– A man at the park is on his smartphone while his kids play. Suddenly, his son winds up and hits another kid with a stick. The Dad snaps to attention, takes the stick, talks to his son about hitting, and makes him apologize to the stranger. You are not involved in this situation at all, but you notice that the Dad seems a bit sheepish about his son’s part in this one-sided conflict. Solidarity Pound It.

Here’s a gif I made (that’s right, I’m a computer GENIUS, obviously) showing you exactly how to do this. You shouldn’t laugh afterward like I did, but you probably will.


So next time you see a parent struggling, and you want them to know that you have been there, flash the ol’ Solidarity Pound It and see what happens. Probably they will feel encouraged, strengthened in the knowledge that their tantrumming toddler is not annoying the people around them, but that they are supported by people who understand.

Another teensy-tiny possibility is that they will be very, very confused because they maybe haven’t read this particular blog post. So they will just scowl at you, the crazy stranger punching him or herself for no reason, and their confusion will distract them for a minute from their frustrating child.

Either way, it’s a win for parents everywhere. So get out there and Solidarity Pound It, far and wide! On behalf of all parents in need of encouragement (so, all parents), I thank you.


(Seriously, though, if this is going to catch on, you all need to share it! That’s what those nifty little buttons at the top and bottom of each post are for. It’s easy as pie!)


Jac here. I’m the copy editor of Comment Magazine (a publication of Cardus, a Christian think tank dedicated to the renewal of social architecture). Comment publishes an online article every week, and this week’s is a Symposium of several writers answering the same question, and I’m one of those writers!

The question: “What does rest look like for you this summer?” If you’re interested, click here for my answer.

(Spoiler: my answer was NOT “Rest? What’s that?” even though it COULD have been.)

Everything in the “Everything Bin”

By Juli

“A place for everything and everything in its place.” No doubt you’ve heard this massively guilt-producing phrase before. Well, if you’ve done any actual living, any good, hard living (such as living with small children), you’ll know by now that this concept is simply ridiculous. There is no place for EVERYTHING, even if you live in a 3 million square foot house. Because space isn’t the only issue with organizing. Sure, it can be AN issue, but it’s not THE issue. Continue reading

R’s In Charge

It’s official. My two-year-old daughter is in charge of our household. She won’t let the baby play with big kid toys, or the big kids play with their own toys, and she continually draws with pens all over my floor, and my table, and my countertops, and my walls. She chooses what to watch on TV (surprise, Frozen again!) and insists that her sisters play the same “games” with her over and over (even when those games involve her sitting on their faces). I genuinely don’t know how to maintain control unless I watch her or play with her constantly, which is pretty unrealistic considering that I occasionally have to go to the bathroom (and if I take her in there with me I know she’ll just point at the tub and shout “bath!” until I give her one).

How did this happen? I think, on the one hand, it’s because she is just so adorable. When she’s happy and she asks you in total gibberish to do something, you want to do it because she rewards you with the greatest giggle and grin combination you’ve ever seen. She really is a delight, much of the time. But, on the other hand, when she is not cheerful she ruins everything. She cries and screams and throws things, so you just give her whatever you can think of to make her stop crying. A cookie? Sure. A cup of water she is definitely going to spill? Absolutely. My iPhone? Really? Okay, fine.

This is the ice cream cone she got the other day when I needed her to want to stay home with me instead of chasing her sisters down the road. Yes, those are marshmallows on top.

This is the ice cream cone she got the other day when I needed her to decide to stay home with me instead of chasing her sisters down the road. Yes, those are marshmallows on top.

Oh yes, and then there’s her current bedtime routine. R may be behind the curve in talking, but she is well ahead of other two-year-olds when it comes to climbing. She’s been climbing out of her crib for months now, even with the mattress at it’s lowest, even while wearing a sleep sack. It’s not even difficult for her; she just glides on out of it, landing cheerfully on her feet, free to wander her room as she pleases. She already has a twin bed in her room, so our current strategy is to put her into that, her “big girl bed,” and then just shut her door when we leave. She then uses her entire room as a giant crib, getting out of bed to play with toys, looking at books, hiding in the closet, all the while singing and talking to herself. Before we go to bed, one of us goes into her room and picks her up from wherever she has fallen asleep—the foot of her bed, the pillow on the floor, inside her closet, directly in front of the door, anywhere but the crib, really—and tucks her gently back into bed. We occasionally try lying down next to her, but this has never worked because of how pleased it makes her to have the company. The other night my husband tried to put her to sleep in our bedroom because of the air conditioning in there. When I peeked into the room half an hour later, he was asleep and she was sitting up in the bed, happily pulling the pages out of my journal.

But it’s fine. Whatever. She’ll definitely outgrow most of this when she learns to talk and begins to use even small amounts of logic or reason, and then we grown-ups will be in charge again. This is a short-term problem, for the most part, and I can ride it out. Waiting until she grows up is a plan that actually does work for most problems at this age, as I have learned twice already (even if the other two did talk more and climb less).

Unless you are planning a road trip, of course. Then you’ll be paying for a hotel room just for your toddler and wondering where it all went wrong. Or so I hear. Sigh.

“Hello, Man.”

My daughter has always been one of the “friendly sort,” the type of child who will talk to anyone, everyone and everything, and as sweet as it is, it has made for some awkward and terrifying times. When she was a toddler she was always gunning for the strangest person at the park— because that was the person she wanted to smile at, touch, and/or suck on. It’s a beautiful thing, really, it is, that she is so accepting of all types of people: she is an example to us all of acceptance, empathy and compassion. But by the power of a mother’s anxiety vested in me by … my uterus, I guess, I pronounce myself freaked out by this, and often quite embarrassed. Along with her general friendliness can come a lack of cultural sensitivity … Or any kind of sensitivity, as a matter of fact. When she was two years old I was pulling her out of her carseat when she spotted a kindly, turban-clad Indian neighbour of ours. Her eyes grew wide, and she pointed at him, screeching, “Look, Mommy! A PIRATE! A pirate, mommy!!”

I don’t always have the privilege of overhearing her conversations with strangers, if, for example, she is riding her bike home from the park and I am huffing and puffing behind her and her brother in my flip-flops, trying to keep up. This is what happened the other day. I could see her on the street ahead of me, eyeing a brusque-looking neighbour, who was in his driveway tinkering with his motorcycle and minding his own business. He was big, bearded and not particularly friendly looking. S stopped, chirped a few words to the man, listened to his deep, baritone reply and, satisfied, carried on down the street. I couldn’t make out the content of this little exchange, but it made me nervous, so I started walking a little faster. When I finally flip-flopped my way up to where he was, he called out, and I noticed he’d been waiting for me. His expression was soft.
“Do you want to know what she said?” He said, looking amused.
“Oh! Sure!” I said, not doing a good job of hiding my surprise.
He cleared his throat, “She said, ‘Hello, man. What you doing? I’m just riding my bike back home. I’ll see you later, okay?'” He was smiling, clearly delighted to share this with me.
I chuckled, “That sounds like her!”
“She’s sweet.” He said, and turned his attention back to his tinkering.

I know I have to get used to it—that my daughter likes and wants to connect with all kinds of people—and it does appear that the more intimidating, weird, or “different” they might seem, the more appealing they are to her. This has been true since the moment she flashed a gooey, 9-month-old grin and reached her chubby arms out for the homeless man with the yellow teeth and the SEVERAL pet rats. Even though I smiled and carried on without stopping (on account of the SEVERAL pet rats),* it was nice to see how much she made his face light up. She’s got no pretensions, no defences, no prejudices, no anxiety or fear when it comes to other people, and this is both sweet and terrifying, embarrassing and inspiring. I can’t wait to watch her grow into the amazing and empathetic woman I just know she will be. I just hope we make it there without me having a heart attack.

My charming girl. She is the type of kid who would look past your outward appearance, and the amount of rats you own, and still ask if she can have a bite of whatever you're eating, or if she can take something home from your house.

My charming girl. She is the type of kid who would look past your outward appearance, and the amount of rats you own, and still ask if she can have a bite of whatever you’re eating, or if she can take something home from your house.


*Not sure if I was clear how many rats there were. It was SEVERAL. SEVERAL pet rats.

Ode to My Yoga Pants

This post is dedicated to Katie, our number one Bloopie,* who once said she didn’t understand why people wear Yoga Pants. Frankly, Katie, we don’t understand why you don’t.

Another reason I like to work from home. In my yoga pants.

Another reason I like to work from home. In my yoga pants.

Ode to My Yoga Pants

O Yoga Pants, preferred choice for moms universal,
You of the two-way stretch and soft cotton-nylon blend.
Thicker than tights, softer than jeans, you feel like pajamas.
But pajamas you are not.

My body has changed, and I’m not sure I like it,
But you, Yoga Pants, you don’t judge. No matter my size—you always fit.
My new curves disguised, no muffin-top emphasized,
You subtly imply I’ve been exercising, which is as good as doing it, right?
You’re like pajamas, only not.

I want to doze on the couch all day long, and sometimes I do get the chance.
And you, Yoga Pants, don’t get in the way. For bending, for crouching,
For climbing into the McDonalds playplace,
No creeping up or falling down, or drawing attention away from my task,
As inconspicuous as pajamas, only not.

I didn’t do my makeup today, and this is yesterday’s shirt with a hat.
With a Starbucks cup and a double stroller, you complement my look:
The best uniform ever worn. That put-together supermom
At the organic grocery is wearing some, so I must be stylin.
I could be in my pajamas. But I’m not!

One day, I will be ready to say goodbye, to think a skirt sounds just fine.
We will have made it through these fuzzy-brained, blurry-eyed,
Spit-covered, giggle-filled baby years. Until then, Yoga Pants, I will wear you.
Not with pride because I don’t care what I’m wearing—that’s the whole point.
I feel like wearing pajamas. But: I’m not.


*A Bloopie is a Blog Groupie, of course. Thanks to Jessica (who looks great in yoga pants) for coming up with the term bloopie. Thanks, friend, for being one!

Stop Making My Kid Feel Bad About Her Teeth!


Hello, blog friends.

So, I wrote something for a different blog ( They published it a few days ago, and I’d love it if you all read it too! If you click that little link below, it should take you right to it.

If you have kids with cavities, you’ll probably want to read it and share in my frustration. If you don’t, you may want to read it anyway to make sure you aren’t accidentally making my kid feel bad.



Click here:


My children can also be quite disgusting, as it turns out

As you may recall (unless it’s such a disturbing memory that you’ve blocked it out), I previously posted about my journey from a person who was careful about food consumption to a mom who is extravagantly careless about food consumption. I feel that the sharing of this journey would not be complete unless I also tell you about the horrendous things that my children have eaten. I am quite sure that this is a universal problem, and that toddlers have been horrifying their parents since the dawn of time by popping pre-chewed playground gum into their eager, innocent mouths, licking that cold metal bar in the handicapped washroom (it was the only open stall large enough for an adult and two small children, okay?), and sucking the rag used to clean the toilet, among other disease-ridden things.

And so, without further ado, here are just a few of the atrocious things that my children have put in their mouths:

1) A cigarette butt from the ground at the park. That butt must have looked PRETTY TASTY to my daughter, considering how quickly her chubby, eleven-month-old hands acquired it and hastened it into her mouth. Luckily, I got it out before she swallowed it, but she was pretty happy about it, and pretty angry when I took it away from her.

2) A stale bun (from under the kitchen table), which I found S generously dunking into the toilet over and over again, between voracious bites. I’m talking GENEROUS dunks, and VORACIOUS bites. And again, a lot of anger when I took that little prize away from her.

3) Whatever they can find on the floor. Like the former me, S has a no-second rule as well, but for her this means that there are NO amount of seconds that would keep her from eating whatever she finds on ANY floor. She has a “Finders, Eaters” mantra, which isn’t always limited to foodstuffs.

4) I have to throw in a terrible one for my son, too, who, though six now, has eaten his share of things that make a mother go “EWWWWWWAAAARGGGHHH!” When, at 2-and-a-half years of age, he came to visit his new sister in the hospital, we caught him (while our attention was diverted onto the new baby for a fraction of a second) vigorously licking the floor of my hospital room. What possessed him, I cannot say. What possesses any of them?! Perhaps I am a bad influence, considering the disgusting stuff I’ve admitted to eating, but for heaven’s sake, I was performing a parental service by eating those things; I certainly wasn’t doing it for my own personal enjoyment, unlike A, who was clearly enjoying that germy linoleum.

Our kids also love eating things that give them moustaches. Thankfully there are enough normal, edible foods that can perform this function.

Our kids also love eating things that give them moustaches. Thankfully there are enough normal, edible foods that can perform this function.

And so, to keep myself sane, I continue to tell myself what I believe all mothers must tell themselves when faced with the reality of what our children have put into their mouths: at least they’re going to have GREAT immune systems.

What about you? What horrid things have your children consumed, or tried to consume?

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