I do NOT nurse flirt!

I will often harass Christopher about the fact that he has 900 gazillion friends and can't go out in public without talking to strangers. (For example, he made friends with another Dad in the Kohl's today, as they were both waiting for their teenage daughters to finish trying on clothes!!) He has now started to tease me back about the fact that I "nurse flirt" while I'm at work. I don't "flirt" I tell him. I'm "friendly." I have to be friendly, especially since there is a very real possibility that in 10 minutes I'm going to have to give that patient a shot in their ass or ask them about their menstrual cycles!

Gavin has to do a presentation for school about any topic that interests him. He originally wanted to do his presentation on the Norwegian Resistance during WWII, but after some initial research we found the topic to be too broad for a 15 minutes PowerPoint presentation and have settled for a Plan B of Chuck Yeager. I have decided that these kinds of assignments end up being done by the parents and not actually the child, and think next time I'm going to make him do a project on something that interests ME, since I'm the one that's going to end up doing it anyway!

I spent the evening making invitations for Jessie's birthday party at the end of the month. Glitter was involved. Beautiful, beautiful sparkly glitter!

Momma Rock recently found, and returned to me, my cotton candy machine. That's right. I have a cotton candy machine. Beat THAT, Ann-ette. Your Coke with Quik is nothing compared to my cavity fluff! And I dislike Giselle on principal just simply based on the fact that she's Mom-bragging AND Mom-shaming all of the other moms who don't have the nanny and personal chef to help them, because I'm pretty sure if we all had Giselle's resources, all of our kids would think broccoli was candy too! But then, you have to ask yourself, "Do you really want a kid who is that weird?" and we all know the answer is a resounding "No." So if eating an occasional sweet keeps my kid from becoming the kid who wears capes to school or pretends to be a pony, then I'll happily buy him that bag of M&Ms and not feel the least bit bad about it. So suck on THAT, Giselle!