Trying to Look Like a Model

Overheard By Me Mostly While Coming Out Of My Mouth Or Sitting In My House

A long time ago in blog years, a readers commented on wanting to be a fly on my wall, and it was not a euphemism.

So, of course, I invited everyone home with me.

And now we’re going home again because I have all these tidbits that are too short for anything else except flies.


Scott: Your outfit is so cool. You look like a model! Give me sexy.

Trying to Look Like a Model
Well, that career ended quickly, and I'm pretty sure the Blue's Clues photo bomb was not the problem.

 

Scott: You’re lucky I love you because you’d make an excellent adversary.


 

My toddler: Mama, a toe accident!
I look over and my daughter’s big toe is completely covered in butter. Too bad that’s not what “car accident” means.


 

As I walk into the living room, I yell: Success!
Scott: What, you poop or something?
Me: Actually, yes. I’ve been pretty backed up lately.


 

After the New York Giants won their second playoff game, my son turns to me and says: I’m so angry you didn’t name me Victor Cruz.


 

Speaking of the AMAZING NEW YORK GIANTS PLAYOFF RUN, my daughter thinks all the teams playing against the Giants are the bad guys so every time they score, she frets saying: Bad guys can’t get touchdowns. Bad guys never win.


 

Me to Scott: If you think there’s not a picture of you on Facebook sleeping after I told you to take your grumpy butt upstairs to nap and you told me to leave you alone because you weren’t tired, well, you’d be wrong.

{see photo below. also can be found on Facebook}

Scott napping
Being married to a blogger is exhausting. Or embarrassing. Probably both.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

12 thoughts to “Overheard By Me Mostly While Coming Out Of My Mouth Or Sitting In My House”

  1. I am usually in scott’s position. claiming non-tiredness and non-crabbiness…and then conking out somewhere.

    it’s a good thing that my husband, who has a blog, is not really a blogger. that shiz would be everywhere cuz i drool.

  2. I’m glad Scott realizes that awkwardness is indeed a team sport.
    (But with no bad guys. Just Blue’s Clues photo bombs. And the like.)

    p.s. Is it wrong that I can imagine several scenarios in which someone ends up with butter on her toe? Wait. Don’t answer that.

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