Though the cookies themselves are vegan-friendly, the company states that they’re made in the same factory as other dairy products, so they can’t discount cross-contamination. I say 95% because it calls for Oreos, and there are some issues with their products being totally vegan. But I will now pretend to use the bathroom for the next thirty minutes.This might look like a super creamy and dairy-filled pie, but it’s actually 95% vegan. I am not as organized as Lauren and don’t plan weekends away. Until the following day when she forgets about it. Whenever Lauren is introduced to something new, it changes her entire perspective on life. When they finish, we will bake an apple pie from the 564 apples left over from apple-picking last weekend. “Kids, let’s clean up.” They have no interest in complying, but I have one card left to play. If Lauren walks in and they are watching TV, she will assume they have been in front of the TV all weekend. I could stick them in front of the TV until Lauren gets home. We arrive home and I can see the finish line. But I can’t imagine there’s a man out there who Lauren could have had an affair with who has this level of disregard for food. Protein, maybe? I think I’m just personally offended that my children ignore food. Note: I’m not sure why exactly I’m so anxious for them to eat a burger over the fries. “Matt, four is more than three,” Liz points out, ruining things. “Four bites,” Matt bargains against his own interests. “Three bites of your burgers,” I threaten. Matt and Liz are only eating the French fries. It’s a public bathroom though so I hold it in. Two, how do I have to go to the bathroom already? It just went past my esophagus three minutes ago. A few thoughts: One, this food is delicious. I eat McDonald’s for the first time in a decade. What’s the point of this weekend if not to make me the favorite parent? I also want to close the weekend strong so that Daddy gets proper credit. In this case, I used McDonald’s as a bribe to get my kids to cooperate while getting ready for soccer (which didn’t work anyway). I spend the next twenty minutes intermittently blowing hot air into his hands and sending him back out to play. “Daddy, my hands are cold.”įuck, I forgot the gloves. Matt is more interested, though he spends 90 percent of the clinic picking the wedgie out of his butt from the jersey that’s tucked into his shorts because it’s huge on him. Playing, was an essential part of soccer. Liz is wearing jeans because she only cares about her appearance and has no interest in running, which, at least when I was (clinic halfway done) I have finally gotten their cleats and shin guards on. It was hard to accept that I may not ever have that experience.ġ:25P.M. I’m also a sports fan, and I badly want my kids to play sports so I can live vicariously through them. (Lauren met me later and refuses to believe that I’m capable of extending past whatever speed I get up to when I run to the free sample line at Costco.) Twenty years (and pounds) ago, I was a good athlete and played competitive tennis and soccer. Wait,ĭid I just say that? Have I lost that much perspective after less than 24 hours with my kids? I try not to look at my phone and the college football games. Minus my obsession with germs and complete lack of self-control when there are three pies of pizza sitting there and no one to tell me “No,” I think this portion of the party goes fairly smoothly.Īm I too old to eat icing from a cupcake? SATURDAY AFTERNOONĪt home, we watch New York Minute with the Olsen twins which won 14 Academy Awards, I believe. I make eye contact and nod my head at him like, “I feel you, kid.” He looks back at me and appears to be debating if he should scream “Stranger Danger!” Speaking of types of invites, a cousin to the “uninvited sibling” is the “parents’ friends’ older kid who’s invited to avoid offending the parents’ friends even though they didn’t want to come anyway but didn’t want to offend you.” I scan the room and get a look at all the children running around. Like the hypocrite I am, I totally excuse this behavior when it’s me he’s clinging to, as opposed to when he does it with Lauren. He’s in a stage where he does this a lot. “Of course he’s welcome! What’s his name?” Jenny’s mom says (while cursing under her breath). We arrive and I explain to Jenny’s mom that the babysitter bailed. I have to become the parent who brings the kid who isn’t invited.ġ1:16 A.M. I’m convinced some parents throw their kid a Yet there are multiple birthday parties every weekend of our lives. Liz and Matt know twenty other kids tops. I’m not sure how it’s mathematically possible.
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