My daughter turns 10 today and I can't wait for this birthday to be OVER! She has been talking about her birthday for the past 6 months. The party...her outfit...her hair....her manicure...blah blah blah. I can't take it anymore.

Santa Claus doesn't exist...in my house. Since my children could crawl they have known that Santa is nothing more than an over weight guy playing dress up in the mall.

WHAT IN THE WORLD is Pom Pon? To me it's like the dancing/cheering/gymnastics but with a "Rockettes" synchronized feel. That's what she has been part of since she started nineth grade. She quickly moved to Varsity and the Varsity has been the the #1 in the High Kick for the last three years. Go Farmigton!!!!

Reading is a daily activity in our home and we take frequent trips to the book store to stock up on the latest Dork Diaries or Captain Underpants book.

My daughter had a scheduled doctor's appointment after not visiting her allergist since she was 2 1/2 years old. That's when we found out she was allergic to every type of seafood.

My son had a fever. I gave him a dose of Advil and sent him to school anyway. Fingers crossed, I left for work praying that the daycare wouldn't call me until the end of my workday. (Is this the epitome of neglect or what?)

I hate fundraisers. I am morally opposed to them. So how is it that I'm currently participating in THREE school fundraisers at the exact same time. This is ridiculous!

My son wants to play football. He just informed me of this fact last week. Sadly, the football registration deadline is long past and the season has already begun. He's sad. But I tried to remedy the situation by offering a chance to play soccer. He says, "soccer is boring".

So, my son wants to be a butt-scratcher inventor. But he says that he will NOT make a commercial about his product because he doesn't want people to see him scratching his butt. Nor does he want to see anyone else scratching their own butt. He's been talking about this invention for days. I'm not sure where he came up with the idea. I'm willing to bet the idea came from the fact that he has eczema. And he gets itchy. And has to scratch his backside. Often.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and took a big, long, deep breath. What was this child about to say to me? Did she kiss a boy? Did someone abuse her? Did she make a bad grade? "Mommy, I think I'm overweight."