My least favorite day of class






Just a boring, babbling introduction to me.

I have spent a lot of time as a student. It’s possible I have very little to show for all the time spent in the classroom but that’s an entirely different matter. By far my least favorite day of the new semester/quarter/whatever was the very first day. All the instructor ever does on that first day is hand out his/her syllabus and then proceeds to read it to you word for word. This was not as annoying for me in high school (because who doesn’t love a free day) as it was in college. Just give me the syllabus and let’s move on. I have made it this far in life. I’m pretty sure my ability to read and comprehend helped along the way. The only thing worse than an instructor who took all of the first class period to explain the syllabus was the instructor who took a whole week to explain the syllabus. Anyway. The point of all that babbling was to introduce you to the next part of today’s story. As much as I hate the syllabus, I feel it is important for people to understand me. I can’t even finish this statement with a straight face. Unicorns are about the only creatures who understand me. Fortunately I know a few unicorns. Sorry. More babble. Anyway. On to my own personal syllabus. I won’t read it to you. I have faith in your abilities.

I am a stay-at-home mom. I have three lovely little girls. My oldest is seven and likes to think she’s the queen of this castle. She was followed by one planned little sister and her not-so-planned identical twin. The twinkers will soon be four leaving behind the giggle of toddler-hood and entering the nest fleeing preschool age of development. Cue some pathetic mom tears now. I try not to take being a mom too seriously. Yes, it is an important job and I do understand that lives depend on me. However, it is really hard to take your job seriously when your boss plays with their own poop and eats cereal off the floor.
Everyone has a blog? What makes mine so special? There probably isn’t anything that makes my blog special. I think I’m special. I think my mom thinks I’m special. I know the other adult in my house thinks I’m all kinds of special. I will point out that my style is not for everyone. I’m snarky. I’m far from perfect. I say “fuck”. A lot. While I think I’m hilarious, I realize there will be people out there who think I am qualify for a straight-jacket and padded cell. That’s fine. There’s days I feel that way too, then I realize padded cells probably don’t come with wine. I will be using this blog primarily as a space for babbling in the hopes that someone reads and maybe even understands. If people happen to laugh while reading, bonus! I will share projects. They may be food related. They may not be. They may even be failed projects. Pinterest can’t get it right all the time.
Final word on my blog. I would like to explain the moniker. I had a few reasons for selecting the title, “I Don’t Kiss Feet”. 1.) The idea that my crazy mom babbling will show up when someone does a search to appease a fetish amuses me. 2.) It is a true statement. I don’t kiss feet. I don’t care how much pain the Lego caused you. If you would pick it up, you wouldn’t step on it. I don’t kiss feet. Bring a boo-boo on your elbow or your dirty hand and I will use my magic kisses to make it go away. Bring me a boo-boo on your foot? You will be reminded that I don’t kiss feet. 3.) Most importantly, the moniker is a tribute to my mother. While I was struggling to come up with two more girls’ names, I was repeatedly told I could not name any of my children after my mother. She said her name would make a terrible name for a child. Instead of naming a child after my mother, I’m naming a blog for her. Where do you think I learned to say “I don’t kiss feet”? As a child, my mother would make any number of boo-boos go away. However, if you came to her with a boo-boo on your foot, you were out of luck. My mom didn’t kiss feet and she didn’t kiss butts. One of these things made a slightly more appropriate title. Maybe someday I will title my autobiography I Don’t Kiss Butts.
Seriously, I babble. This is the closest thing to adult conversation I might have all day. I’ll take what I can get.



Edit: Originally post on March 23, 2016 My previous blog seems to have disappeared. Probably because of the inactivity. For now I'm just going to start over and post my previous posts from the old blog. 

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