5 going on 15 - over on B-Metro

This week: 5.. and counting. Make a wish.

I swear, whoever did this - whatever did this, they are in for quite the earful and maybe a bottle of shampoo emptied out and replaced with Nair. I did not order this, nor want it anytime soon and I’d like some sort of exchange, return, or at least a pause button.

While making Conner’s cupcakes on Saturday, he kept coming into the kitchen, and in a rather demanding tone request that he help. Thing is, no one wants to hear the dreaded words “my child helped make these!”, because that only translates directly into “these are filled with boogers and dog hair”. Because I was on a tight timeline, I asked him to do things like lick the spoon and “get mommy the big green mixing bowl” to appease a few of his requests. You could tell with his huffs and ALMOST eye-rolls that he wasn’t happy with these inadequate duties. He wanted to mix, break eggs, stir, pour things.

Figure out whether or not I make someone surprise bald by reading the rest after the jump.

On Birthdays After Babies

Today on B-Metro:

A handmade card. 

Lunch at a local “meat and three”. 

A video game ban for all.

One large hot and sour soup, spring rolls and an order of crab rangoons.

These are the things that defined my birthday. Twenty-six years ago, I transformed my own mother into the selfless woman most mothers are. The birthdays I remember from my youth and the feelings attached to those celebrations are now the same feelings I share for my children’s birthdays. But my own? They’ve taken on new meaning.

Read the rest after the jump.