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Fleeing the Bed Bugs

Fleeing the Bed Bugs

The signs weren’t obvious at first. (Or were they?) The track of little bumps across Bob’s forehead as if an ant brigade had visited in the night. Another bite here, and then there, across his forearm. His legs. His chest. Oh my God, what was happening? Had they arrived while we were sleeping? Was it spider bites? Mosquito’s munching? Or something far worse…bugs that lived in the bed. Punaises de lit as they would be called in French.

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Like a Hooker in a Foreign Land

Like a Hooker in a Foreign Land

As I walked by the grey-haired little old man with warm brown eyes and weathered tan skin, I couldn’t help myself but to say, “Bon soir” with a smile. I was a alone and so was he. I was wearing my wedge heels and short shorts and a black lacy top and a black backpack purse on my back. Oh my God–an overnight sack perhaps?

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I’ve Been Cursing Like a Sailor

I’ve Been Cursing Like a Sailor

Once you land on the European continent, each and every shrill scream that can be heard from your child’s mouth when she is angry and the “cute” tendency to knock things over and act like a lummox in a china shop will go from dwelling at the level of partially manageable to driving you totally insane.

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We Summer in France

We Summer in France

The start to our trip to France for a month couldn’t have been less glamorous, but I was willing to suck it up. We were going to not just Europe, but France. Birthplace of impressionism, a culture where a glass of wine cost less than a glass of juice, home to camembert and the nutella crepe. The place I had fallen in love with 16 years ago, when I studied there in college.

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The Ant Parade & Other Reasons I Suck as a Housekeeper

The Ant Parade & Other Reasons I Suck as a Housekeeper

There were ten of them, maybe twenty, walking in a fine delicate line across the counter top as another group of four or five worked mightily on picking apart a flake from a piece of bread in the corner of the windowsill. How’d that crumb get up there? More important, how did those ants get [...]

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Exercise or My Son?

Exercise or My Son?

Feelings of giddiness and anxiousness competed in my stomach as I found myself back at the gym. A short while after vowing to wait to start working out again until my 2-year-old daughter was in preschool, I was back.

An email had popped into my Inbox the day before with a simple subject line of, “Workout Plan.” The sender? My husband. Where I lacked in fortitude to take Avery to the gym’s babysitting room, Bob stood strong. He had a flawless plan, he said, and we were going to the gym after work.

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A Day of Doing Absolutely Nothing

A Day of Doing Absolutely Nothing

What if we had a day of no plans at all? What if I just followed the kids from room to room and we spent the day lazing about the house in our jammies? Forget the zoo! Maybe we’d go out later to somewhere simple like the bookstore if we felt like it, but maybe we wouldn’t. For once, we wouldn’t run out the door to make a lesson or an appointment. We wouldn’t try to get dressed and packed and buckled in before it was time for Avery’s nap. We wouldn’t meet friends at the park or run up to the grocery store. We’d just sit in our PJ’s for as long as we felt like it, and do whatever activity struck our fancy.

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I Hate Coupons

I Hate Coupons

It’s time that someone finally said it: coupons suck. I know, I know, there is an incredible thrill that you experience at the store register when you watch the cashier lop some chunky amount off your bill and turn your purchase into a great deal. Believe me, I LOVE that feeling. Unfortunately, with the total [...]

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Is Being a Good Mom Good Enough?

Is Being a Good Mom Good Enough?

Every once and a while it happens–you have a moment of absolute clarity that will stick with you for a lifetime, or so you hope anyway because you really do deserve to have your memory serve you well when it comes to a moment of mommy uplift.

I had one of these moments the other day as I was loading my car, in the Target parking lot, full of goodies for my son’s birthday. As I situated the bags of blue-and-yellow construction truck wrapping paper, precurled ribbon to match, and the sunglass-wearing, singing-pig birthday card into the back of my little SUV, I found myself falling into a familiar thought pattern. “How lame I am! Do I have to start every (self-employed) work day late?!” Guilt, disappointment, and feelings of failure bounced around in that crowded head of mine.

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