Scott pawned us off to Florida.

In the end, I hope my children realize how much our bodies need vitamin D in November.

It helps with calcium absorption and bone growth.


Call me old fashioned but Vitamin D is meant to be taken by the heavens, sent down on the rays from the Sunshine State. No thanks, Flintstone vitamins.


Scott pawned us off to Florida in the middle of the deer rut*.

* The deer rut: a deer humping frenzy that occurs in 10 degree weather. The male deer are too distracted by the female deer to notice the scent of a hunter sitting in the tree stand.



My husband is too distracted by the male deer to notice who the real winners are here because no one from Florida actually wants to visit Kansas in November.

Meet Lindsay.


Just kidding, Lindsay doesn’t fish.


Lindsay and I are exactly 26 days apart but I was born on a bitter, snowy morning in Kansas City and Lindsay was born with a newborn, baby tan in Key West.

Lindsay and Scott grew up together in Fort Lauderdale. That means the moment I said, “I do” to Scott, I sealed the deal with my eternal summer best friend, Lindsay. Even if summer happens to fall in November.

She doesn’t even own a pair of winter boots.


Our daughters, Emma and Madison, have known each other since diapers. They met in, well, where else but the Florida Keys.


So yes, you could say Scott pawned us off to Florida while he froze in a tree stand. A weekend alone in the woods during the rut was his only agenda. He cooked, fed the dogs, started his own laundry, and scratched his balls. I don’t know what men do alone.

I do know I came home to a slap in the face by the bitter Kansas City air. And then another slap in the face when I saw the bloody mess in our garage.

No, the blood wasn’t from a deer.

You guys, Scott did it.

It was a dirty job but it had to be done without women or children. While the girls and I were in Florida, an arrow went flying in Kansas. It went straight through the heart of a coyote.


A coyote. The canine eating canine of the animal kingdom. If you remember – a coyote attacked and tried to kill our dog, Belle.

Read the story here.

Scott won’t move the family to his hometown of Fort Lauderdale. But he will make sure we’re always warm, including Belle. She’ll stay warm for many Novembers to come under her own coyote blanket.

Does anyone else love the snowbird life? Do you prefer living with seasons or a year-round summer? Do you have a long-distance friend that lives with palm trees? I highly recommend that you find one. Can you believe Belle got the final revenge? 

** Thank you for having us, Lindsay! Until Scott pawns us off again, cheers! Save us some vitamin D.



Taco Tuesday.

People blowing up people. School shootings. Gun control. Religion. National security. Abortion. Presidental candidates and their hair. Gay marriage. Taxes. Are we really surprised Charlie Sheen has HIV?

Let’s all relax. Park your car, sit back and enjoy the flavor explosion of a Taco Bell taco.



No, I’m not drunk.

It’s my blog and I can write what I want.

And I can’t think of anything more satisfying than ripping open a Taco Bell fire sauce packet.


Have you actually had a bowel problem after Taco Bell? Have you actually ate Taco Bell then run to the bathroom? I’m guessing no – it’s just something you say because everyone else says it to be funny.

The jokes stop here.

There’s no reason to hate a fine establishment like Taco Bell.

If you want to see someone running to the bathroom after a meal, try my Mexican grandmother’s habanero salsa. You better pucker those cheeks. No, the other cheeks. The cheeks that never see sunshine. My grandma doesn’t even have any taste buds anymore. She just keeps adding habaneros.

Back to Taco Bell and America.

I enjoy eating tacos in Taco Bell’s parking lot with my fellow, hard-working Americans – the constructions workers.


Or maybe they’re not American. It doesn’t matter. It’s good food no matter where you hail from, hombres.

I’m probably addicted. I would be perfectly happy with a Taco Bell meal for Thanksgiving. I don’t care how much sodium, fat, carbs, sugar, gluten, or paleo is in it. Is paleo a real thing?

I am just enjoying the moment with my taco.

Stop fighting.

But for the record – if they forget the sauce, it’s out the window.

Are you sick of the news? What is your comfort food? Do you have a favorite guilty pleasure? Make me laugh. We need more of that in the world. 


That awkward moment.

I read a lot.

I don’t watch TV because I would rather spend my time reading. In fact, sports is the only reason I even own a TV.  If I watch a movie, it’s only so I can say, “the book is way better.” My job requires a tremendous amount of research, I am all over the Internet, reading, and learning.

But don’t let a heavy reader like me fool you into thinking I’m intelligent.

I am also on Twitter.

Some of you know her, some don’t – The Bloggess, also known as Jenny Lawson tweeted:


And then Twitter exploded.

People started telling their most awkward moments. MY PEOPLE.

But like I said – don’t let a heavy reader like me fool you into thinking I’m intelligent.

Academically, I was a B average meh, sometimes C average student. I still use the calculator on my phone to figure out tips because I refuse to accept that I will use math in real life.

You think me not watching TV is shocking – I am also terribly shy in person. All of this means I own awkward.

I’ve written this post before but everything is much funnier to me after I forget about it:


Scott and I went to Napa for a date weekend. At our first winery, I told Scott to tip the employee since they had tip jars out. Scott threw the cash into the metal container.

Three wineries later, we were told it was a spit jar.


I asked my dad’s friend, Larry, to teach me how to drive a motorcycle. Larry told me to straddle my dad’s motorcycle.

Larry: Ok, first gear is like this.

Me: Whoa. Wait, I don’t drive a stick. I need an automatic motorcycle to learn on.


“Do you think Tiger Woods is good at mini-golf? He’d have to get a hole-in-one every time, right?”


Our friend, Brett, took us fishing with country music singer, Tyler Farr.

Me: Tyler, do you actually sing on stage or do you fake sing?


At the gym.

Scott: Your turn. I’ll remove some weights for you.

Me: You don’t have to. My legs are much stronger than yours because proportionately women are stronger in their legs than men.


I was watching TV with my dad. An ad came on for a hamburger place. They advertised that their half pound cheeseburger is the biggest one around.

Me: That’s so not true. McDonald’s has the quarter pounder.


I once took a silent picture of a KFC’s employee’s nip slip. I forgot to turn the flash off and she called me out.

I squealed out of the parking lot, crying and shaking. I blogged about it.


A dry wall guy was working in our basement. I didn’t want him to hear me say I had to poop.

Me: Hey Emma, I’m going to go upstairs to P-O-O-P. Be right back.

I stopped dead in my tracks on the stairs when I realized he could spell.


“Wait, WHAT?! I totally thought ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ didn’t come out until I was in college.”


I was looking at the stars with Scott. There were supposed to be a lot of shooting stars that night.

Me: So, like, I know that way is north and that way is south. But what direction is up? Does it all kinda merge to the north?


“There’s no way Ricky Martin is gay.”


“Do guys look at each others’ penises in the locker room? Like, have you seen all your hockey friends’ penises? I would totally look. I check out boobs all the time and I have my own.”


“How do you boil an egg? I mean, like, good.”


“Oh I only eat fish, chicken and turkey. I hate the taste of red meat. Well, actually, I do eat Taco Bell’s taco meat. Completely different.”


“Scott. You have got to read this book. JFK was the biggest perv. (Singing) And I’m LOVING IT.”


I asked the grocery store employee where the guacamoles were. But for the record, that was only because Scott wrote it that way on a list.


On a boat, fishing in the Dominican Republic. I took a break to go sit upstairs with the captain.

Me: “But if you have a fish finder docked on the boat, isn’t that cheating?”


To a flight attendant, on a place.

Me: Is it true you can’t say bomb on an airplane? Or is that just in Meet the Parents?


I interviewed a coffee shop for work. They invited me to join them “cupping” – or loudly slurping coffee from a spoon.

Barista: Ok, grab a spoon and we’ll get started.

I grabbed a rusted, antique spoon hanging on the wall as art. Before I left, I saw a cup of clean, shiny spoons on the table. I used the antique spoon the whole time and no one said anything.


I don’t think there’s ever been a time I haven’t thanked an officer for a speeding ticket.


In college, my dorm roommate would ask me to sit in the bathroom while she pooped in a stall. She would read a magazine out loud and we would discuss the articles. I don’t know.

I was sitting on top of the sink when another girl walked into another stall. My roommate was mid-sentence when the girl ripped ass so loud it echoed down the hallway. My roommate completely stops talking and never finished her sentence. I could hear laughing through her nose. I jumped off the sink, ran back to our room, and slammed the door. I could never look that girl in the eye again.


Please tell me you have more to add. Tell me your most awkward moment. Then go read everyone else’s on Twitter. God, I love Twitter.


Oh Emma, Oh Kate.

I parked the car and waited for Scott and Emma to run an errand in a store. Kate climbed into the passenger seat and opened my middle console.

Kate: Ha! You have these in here. (holds up a tampon)

Me: Do you even know what that is?

Kate: That thing you put up your butt.


I was in a neighbor’s house chatting with another mom. I overheard Kate, coloring at the kitchen table.

Kate: (to other kids) How do you spell sad? Ok, now how do you spell mad?


In the car, driving the kids to school. Emma sneezes then Kate sneezes.

Emma: Stop copying me, Kate.


I walked out of a clothing boutique with Kate. I held the door open for a woman walking in. There was an outdoor rack of clothes on the sidewalk.

Kate: (to woman) All these clothes are free.

Woman: (laughs)

Me: KATE. It says 50 percent off.

Kate: Oh, I thought you could take them.


Every week, I volunteer to help Emma’s class with writing. I finished working with a few girls and looked at Emma. She was talking to a boy.

Later, after school.

Me: Emma, what were you and that boy talking about?

Emma: Oh. Well, he asked if you were my mom and I said yeah. And then he asked if you were a model because you’re so tall. And I told him, ‘HA! No, she’s not a model. She’s here to teach you how to write better.’


I bent over to pick up something on the floor.

Kate: See your boob crack.


Kate: Did you know you’re not allowed to wear socks to gymnastics?

Me: Oh. Did you wear your socks?

Kate: Ugh. Yeah. I forgot to take them off. The teacher gets so jealous about it.


In the car.

Kate: Mommy?

Me: Yep.

Kate: I gotta go to the bathroom.

Me: Ok, I have to get gas anyway. We’ll stop by QuickTrip.

Kate: Uhhhh. Does QuickTrip sell panties?


Kate: It squirted, Emma. Stop!


In the bathroom at QuickTrip.

Kate: What does that sign say?

Me: Employees must wash hands.

Kate: Is that a joke?


Me: Hey girls, just so you aren’t scared in the morning, I have an electrician coming out here and he’ll probably be here when you wake up.

Kate: Will he show us his magic tricks?


Me: Emma. If the word you’re spelling is already printed on the paper, you should be spelling it correctly in your writing. Your teacher said you….



Scott came home from work, grabbed me around the waist and gave me a kiss. I had a sports bra on with one of those tank tops with extra large arm holes.

Scott: Mmmmm. Side boob.

Me: SCOTT. (look over at girls, watching)

Scott: Oh. Whoops.

Kate: HA! Side boob.


Kate: Here, Belle! You want a bone? (gives Belle a bone) And how about a cigarette?


Kate: Did you write that one down in your phone? Ha! (high pitched voice) ‘Kate said Belle do you want a cigarette’


Emma was a flapper for Halloween. I bought her a long cigarette holder and found a fake cigarette that blows out “dust.”

Scott and I joined the group of parents walking behind the herd of kids.

Scott: Whoa! Was that Emma?

Me: What about her? AH! (Emma was running across street, no cigarette holder, just the fake cigarette in her mouth, running slow with high heels on.)

Scott: She’s got that damn cigarette in her mouth! Now she’s taking off her heels and holding them with her hands. She’s a drunk college student!


Emma: My feet hurt! I need to go barefoot!


I had to pick the girls up early from school. I was waiting in the school office. There was a stack of papers near my seat.

Me: Hi girls! You ready to go?

Emma: What’s this?

Me: Looks like a pamphlet on flu season.

Emma: I want one.

Me: What? Why?

Emma: I like facts, mom.


Me: Emma, will you call Nina (my mom) and tell her I don’t need her to babysit anymore?

Emma: Can’t we just text that?


Coach Scott was posing for pictures with Emma’s soccer team. It was cold out so Kate stayed in the car. I watched the team pose for pictures then walked back to the car to check on Kate.

The closer I get to my car, the more I realize the bass booming is coming from my car. Kate is in driver’s seat, singing as loud as she can to the radio.


We took the girls out to eat at a restaurant.

Kate: It’s hot in here.

Emma: Probably from all the candles on the tables.


The girls and I were watching Back to the Future.

Kate: Uh oh. He said the S-word. Not the stupid S-word but the other one. Here, let me whisper it.

Me: That’s ok.

Kate: No, I want to tell you.

Me: (Bend down to her)

Kate: SHIT.


Me: Kate! Let’s go! We’re all waiting on you!

Kate: Hold on, let me check my Facebook.

Me: WHAT? Do you even know what Facebook is?

Kate: Ha! Haha!


Kate was looking at my wedding rings.

Me: One is an engagement ring. And one is a wedding band. But I didn’t get my wedding band until years after our wedding.

Kate: Who makes you get married?

Me: No one. Well, usually the boy asks the girl. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Girls can ask too, if they want.

Kate: Ok. NO to a boy asking me. I decide that, not a boy.


Text message to Scott: We’re at Kauffman Stadium! Playoffs, baby! Go Royals! Look for us on TV! 3rd base side, corner outfield.


Scott: Took Kate to the farm. She wouldn’t let me watch the game because you guys are there.



Me: Oh Kate, looks like you’re going to the Nelson for your first field trip! Daddy and I took pictures there on our wedding day.

Scott: I threw up there too.

Me: He had too much tequila the night before, girls.

Scott: I was sick because I was nervous to see your mommy.

Me: No. Too much tequila.

Kate: I’m telling my teacher all of this.


The girls and I were watching Back to the Future, part 2.

Me: Isn’t this crazy? They’re in 2015! That’s now! Get it? So in 1985, when the first movie was made, they thought 2015 would have flying cars!

Emma: Seriously? Come on, people. Flying cars? I wouldn’t have thought that if I was in 1985.


The girls and I were watching Back to the Future, part 3.

Me: Ok, so now Marty is in 1885. That was about 20 years after the Civil War. See how there’s nothing around back then?

Emma: Well, he should do good on his history tests.


Emma: Man, Doc talks really loud.



Emma: What are you reading?

Me: Go Set A Watchman. It’s by Harper Lee. She only published one book, To Kill A Mockingbird. This book is a little controversial because it was published after she died. She never wanted it published. Here, you can read her bio.

Emma: (reads) Born in 1926! Was she a flapper?


I was watching cat videos with Kate on my phone. I think one was called, “Douche Bag Cat.”

Kate: What’s that say?

Me: It’s a bad word. Just watch.

Kate: Tell me.

Me: No.

Kate: Whisper in my ear.

Me: Get out of here.

Kate: Can we watch it again?

Me: Fine.

Kate: Duh-duh-do. Chee. Bag. Cat.


Special Edition: Oh Kids.

Dad brings in mail and 5-year-old son takes the Victoria Secret postcard coupon.

Dad: Do you think she’s pretty, son?

Kid: Well, I can’t tell because she doesn’t have any clothes on.


Kid (watching commercials): I want to drink a Bud Light!

Mom: You have about 15 more years.

Kid: (counting on fingers) WHAT?! You have to be 21 to have a beer?!


Kid: Mama? What do other mom’s booboos (boobs) look like?

Mom: Everybody looks different but same general idea.

Kid: Is the general idea that when you’re a mom, you have two long hangy tubes?


Is your kid hilarious? Of course they are!

If you have any kid sayings that you would like to see here, please email me at: jbugbytes@gmail.com

Your child’s name will be kept anonymous.


Saved by the Bell.

Maybe it was the fact that Zach Morris never had a beard.

Or maybe it was because Kelly Kapowski had bangs.


Zach Morris and Kelly Kapowski – 2015 Burton Halloween portrait.

Greetings from Suburbia – where the dead trump Kelly Kapowski.




Yes, that is a real 90s cell phone. And yes. I said where the dead trump Kelly Kapowski.

Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.



I mean, I don’t know – you tell me – were we in the presence of Michael Keaton and Patrice Martinez? Pom poms dropped.



Zach Morris and Kelly Kapowski lost the Halloween costume contest. But so did a lot of characters: Little Red and her bad nightgown’ed wolf. Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon. A Popeye with boobs and an Olive Oyl with an adam’s apple. Wayne and Garth showed up. I believe I saw Hillary Clinton in the corner, begging for votes.

And then we have Dr. Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show. But what if I told you this is the father of Beetlejuice. 


In the end, the trophy went to Beetlejuice and Miss Argentina under the direction of ….


Until next year – hosted by the Burtons.

Damnit, Scott. We need to up our game.

The traditional morning after picture. Kelly Kapowski only drinks from the #1 coffee cup. Oh look! So does Maverick.


The Labrador Retriever.

Well, well, well. And here we are.

Can I vent here? Sure, I can. It’s the Internet.

I am assuming you read the title. I am also assuming you know this post is about a dog, a labrador retriever.

Your assumptions are right. Her name is Stella.

Stella is six months old. A six-month-old, black labrador retriever puppy.

A puppy. There’s just something about the word – puppy. Wagging tails. Puppy dog eyes. Barks that sound like squeaks and squawks. Slobber left on your face because you love to press your nose into that mysterious, coffee-scented puppy breath.

You smiled didn’t you.


Ah, now you smiled.

  • Two days ago, I turned on the lights to find Stella squatting in pitch black, taking a steamy dump.
  • I still have one diamond earring in a small dish on my bathroom sink. The other went through the bowels of my dog and is now sitting, somewhere, in a pile of dog crap. I don’t know what to do with the one diamond earring.
  • “Just knee her down, kids. Take your knee and pop her chest down. Harder. Don’t be shy about this. She needs to learn not to knock kids over.”
  • “See? She lost some teeth! Let’s push some more baby teeth out, maybe she’ll stop chewing.”
  • Google search: how to get dog urine out of mattress pad because husband is dumbass and allows dog to sleep in our bed.
  • Did you know if you clip a dog’s nails too short, they bleed? Yes. They do. The blood gushes out at jet speeds, spraying the kitchen down from five feet away like she’s Spiderman. Woman. That was my fault.
  • Hey, watch this! I sit down. Grab my computer. Grab my notes. The dog whines at the door because OH! You decided to poop outside now?
  • We purchased a bark collar that increases the shocks the more she barks. It sounds a little cruel but she was in a downward spiral into the classification of a yippy, barking, Chihuahua that’s mad at the world.
  • She stole my Taco Bell taco from the counter top.
  • “Thanks for coming on short notice. Yes, yes you did just lay carpet down in our brand new house a month ago. You see, when we bought a house, we also bought a puppy. Yeah, a lab. Yeah, I know. No, we’re weren’t drunk. I don’t know, does my head look screwed on to you?”
  • Falling asleep to the soothing sounds of crickets or ocean waves? Try this, Sleep Pillow App – dog slurping her crotch.
  • “Scott, she’s sitting two inches from my face because I’m drinking wine. She likes to lick the wine from my lips.”
  • Hey, have you guys ever seen a lab hump a yorkie poo? Her spay appointment is getting close.
  • “Mom, how old is Stella in human years?” Stella runs into the kitchen, jumps on the dining room table, slides off and lands on floor.
  • Labrador retrievers are smart dogs. Too smart. They know your schedule. They know as soon as the kids put their backpacks on, it’s time to go in the kennel…and round and round we go, around the kitchen island. Stop. Change directions. Round and round we go wait, is that a treat?
  • “Son of a bitch. Why does this dog get so many Instagram likes? If they only knew.”
  • Scott spent a whole weekend planting new trees in our backyard. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. Stella spent 30 minutes digging the root ball back up for a re-do, in stealth mode. No one saw her do it.
  • “Scott? Hey, Stella ate something bad, I think. I don’t really know but she has diarrhea and threw up all over her kennel and it spewed all over our walls and hardwood floors. Well, it is big deal because it’s flat paint. I told you to spend the extra money on the eggshell paint. Yeah, well it’s too late to be cheap about this now. I know you can’t do anything about this over the phone but I was right. I just want to hear that I’m right. Say it. And say I’m pretty.”
  • “MOM! Stella ran down the street!! She has daddy’s underwear!!”

Scott and I are ‘ole veterans at puppy raising. Stella is our third puppy. Why? I don’t know. The same reason people have eight kids, probably. Insanity.

My labrador retriever puppy vent is over.

She’s family now. And like any 3-year-old in human years, we can’t return her.


Have you ever raised a puppy? Are labrador retriever puppies the worst? Did you swear to yourself you would never get a puppy again? Have you read Marley and Me? Tell me your bad stories – go ahead, vent. It feels good.


Phone dump.

Do you ever go to Vegas and get the sensation you’re being watched?

Well, you are being watched. The eye in the sky. Everyone knows that.

I don’t know what “the cloud” is but I get the sensation there’s someone up there watching, storing, and laughing behind a room of computer screens.

I got a new phone this week. The cloud saved my pictures because the cloud must know all. I pulled those pictures and saved them in the form of a blog post. My contact numbers are still floating around. I haven’t pulled those down yet.

So if you get a text from me asking, “who are you?” please don’t make a joke and say “I’m superman.”

Because I know that’s not true.

Scott and I are.


Just kidding. We’re not Clark Kent and Superman. Scott vetoed this Halloween costume but not before I got a picture of what could have been.


No, Emma and Kate are not mannequins either.


Mardi Gras girl? Nah.


Screw you and your beads. Tell ’em, Kate.

I just happened to catch her middle finger up. She’s not that kid.


But she is this kid hugging a bear with a latte.

Ugh. The “cloud.” Always watching. I swear we are good parents. Good people. Don’t believe everything you see on a computer screen.








Friends who know how to rhyme are always good to have around.



Well, at least the dog thinks we’re funny.


Like really funny.

I’m sorry. Scott can be mildly offensive.

A heavy flow and wide-set vagina.


Sometimes I think I am the man in this relationship.


Yes, there are women out there that love football and have a strong dislike for Alabama. And don’t even talk to me about K-State. Or the Chiefs.



Oh. He’s manned up now.



Cloud, you know how much I love that maps app. And I know Hakuna Matata means “no worries.”

I won’t worry, cloud. I have a new phone and I have a strange feeling there’s someone watching, storing, and laughing behind a room of computer screens.


Ring of Fire.

“This morning, with her, having coffee.” – Johnny Cash, when asked for his description of paradise.

“I mean, I don’t know, is her name Julie or something?” – Scott Burton, when asked if he knew who Johnny Cash was referring to.

(It’s June, Scott. Like your niece.)

If you follow me on any social media you know that Scott and I went to Nashville, Tennessee this weekend.

We needed a date weekend with country music and whiskey. Sure, you can find country music and whiskey in my own house but you won’t find this horse.


Or this one.


I call them date weekends. Sometimes we bring friends along. Sometimes we don’t. We never bring the kids.

Date weekends are a re-charge.

I get to date a bearded guy named Scott.

He’s taller than me but not by much when I have my cowboy boots on. After a few minutes of conversation, he can impersonate anyone’s accent. This only makes him more fun when he’s buying me drinks next to a group of guys from Bah-ston.

I pack my best clothes for date weekends. I don’t know why I do this because we never go anywhere that requires anything more than jeans and a t-shirt. Yet, I am the prettiest after the sun goes away and the only makeup left on my face is a sunburn. I don’t believe it but my date tells me so. Cancer and wrinkles, Scott.

We are not a mom and dad on date weekends.

We don’t have jobs to report to.

We are not even husband and wife. Scott didn’t get mad when I gave the taxi driver Luke Bryan’s house address.

The only thing we have to worry about on date weekends is if a honky tonk will show K-State playing on one of their TVs. And then crying down the streets of Nashville because football is the saddest country song we’ve ever heard. Jesus.

We’re just two friends on a date. We wake up in a strange town, in a strange bed. The only plan we make is spontaneity.

And somehow, with him, the taste of coffee the next morning is always home.

Where is your favorite place to travel with your date? Have you been to Nashville? Would you rather travel for dates or stay in town? Do you always bring your kids when you travel? Do you know all the words to Ring of Fire because I totally bombed that one.


Emma’s upgrade.

Me: EMMA! Stop! Give me the razor. Never shave side-to-side! You’ll cut yourself. Here, watch again. Start at ankle and go up. Don’t press too hard.

Emma: Oh. Ok. Ok. Got it.

Emma shaves her legs now.

She asked me a few weeks ago if I could teach her how to shave her legs. She said her leg hair bothers her when she wears pants.

I gave the go-ahead.

Scott got voted off womanhood island. “No, absolutely not. She’s too young,” can paddle itself back to the roars in the man jungle.

I told Emma she must keep it a secret from her 6-year-old going on 17-year-old younger sister. I assumed she wouldn’t say anything to Scott because what girl tells her dad about such things like shaving her legs, bras, and periods?


Emma: Daddy! LOOK!

My head jerked up from my phone. I spun around on the couch then scrabbled to get the camera turned on. What the.

Scott: WHAT THE.

Emma: What? Mommy said it was ok! Feel them!

Scott: Did you shave your legs?

I made eye contact with Scott. I shook my head no. I mouthed “don’t yell.”

Scott: Well, your mommy is grounded.

Her openness shocked me. And then again, it didn’t.

Scott and Emma hunt together. Emma, with her silky smooth legs, shot a 9-point buck last night.


Some may see a man and his child holding up a dead animal and think it’s cruel. They may feel sorry for the deer because it had no chance against man – or woman – and their weapons.

It’s not that.

This is Emma’s second time shooting a buck. I would call last night’s buck an upgrade from two years ago.


Emma has shot two deer in her life.

But the two pictures don’t show the countless hours sitting in a hunting blind with her dad. Or the summers she’s spent riding in a 4-wheeler, checking trail cameras. She’s tagged alongside Scott since she was five. She loves mud. She doesn’t like ticks but she’ll pick them off on her own without screaming. She got sprayed by a skunk a month ago. She went to school laughing about her scent because she got sprayed by a skunk. 

Nature doesn’t scare her.

I don’t know what Emma and Scott talk about for hours in the hunting blind but she always comes home happy. I get to see Scott’s interviews with her on camera. Sometimes she doing homework. Sometimes she sits and watches a spider make a web in the blind window. The temperatures can be anywhere from sweltering to bone-chilling.

And much like her father, she never complains.


Scott cannot be more proud of Emma – even if womanhood island is slowly making its way to the roars of the man jungle. She shot a buck most outdoorsmen never get a chance at.

I am proud of her too. She’s happy. Daddy’s girl is turning into one hell of a girlfriend one day. But she’s comfortable enough to ask us anything. I don’t know if a deer had anything to do with that but it sure feels like it did.


The lunch box.

I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t normally post this much in a week.

It’s Kate. This is all Kate.

I can’t even make this stuff up if I tried. 

I’ll be quick –

Scott was in Boston last night. And his dad, Jeff, was in Toronto. I was at home with the girls. It was just another day repeating the 6:30 pm chaos including reading a string of group texts.

Jeff: Toronto Blue Jays and Yankees. Row 6.


Scott: Tampa Bay Rays and Boston Red Sox. Fenway Park. Suite.


Well, they’re working’ REAL hard.

I opened Kate’s furry, leopard-print backpack to check for homework.

What the…..

I blinked. I brought the paper closer to my face.

Is this a joke?

I slowly turned to look at Kate. Emma was doing her homework at the kitchen table. Kate was tapping her pencil, waiting to work on hers.

Oh my God.

I held my breath. My body started to tremble as I stifled a laugh. I turned my back to the girls and took a picture of the paper.

Me: Kate’s backpack. 2nd base. Maybe 3rd. Depends what she did with it.


Scott: WTF!!!!!

Me: I KNOW!!!! I’m too scared to ask what these are. Hold on I’ll ask. Trying so hard not to laugh.

Kate: Mommy! Where’s my homework!

Me: Right here. Oh, hey….so tell me about your lunch box drawing. Did you do this in school today?

Kate: Yep. I did that.

Me: It’s so cute! What are you eating in your lunch box?

Kate: You don’t have to tell what you have in your lunch box.

I giggled a high-pitched giggle, walked backwards out of the room and started texting.


Scott: I’m going to counseling now.

Jeff: Oh kitty.


Scott: Hot dog?


Hot dog. Cupcake. Lipstick. Water bottle. Gummy bears. The Starship Enterprise. Candles. Bacon strip.

I heard it all.

The only person that knows what’s in Kate’s lunch box is Kate.

“You don’t have to tell what’s in your lunch box.”

Thank you for your time. You guys keep laughing it up when I pull out a mini statue of David from her backpack two days from now.