My life after the 15 minutes…

So the title of this post is 100% true: I’m forcing my husband to go on vacation. Depending on when you’re reading this, you might even know before he does. I’m telling you first partly because I want a written record of his inevitable objections before he even has the chance to say them out loud. “But Dani, I’m so busy at work and don’t have any vacation time!” Actually, you have a very crafty wife who happens to know your boss—and he also thinks you need a break. Turns out, you have plenty of time. “But Dani, we can’t afford it!” You are so freaking cheap that your baptism money is probably still earning interest in your kiddie savings account. I’ve gone up and down your spreadsheets, and trust me—we can afford it. “But Dani, you need my help with the kids!” I love how great of a dad you are, but the truth is you haven’t taken any time for yourself in… ever. We have a nanny who’s with us most of the week, and I’m a full-time stay-at-home mom. I’ll get by. “But Dani…” Shut u...

So this may be one of those blogs I regret posting—I’m not sure. But I’m here to vent because the person I want to be talking to is currently glued to a baseball game… after finding out his best friend has cancer. I keep telling myself he’s allowed to cope how he needs to—but that isn’t making me any less upset. Before I get into the specifics, I need to introduce Tyler. Tyler has been Bubs’ best friend since Bubs moved to town at age seven. Honestly, I can’t remember a time when Tyler wasn’t around. His dad did business with my dad’s company, so he was always one of those people who just existed in my world. Playdates, classes, school events, parties, etc.. I adore Tyler—not only for being such a great friend to my husband, but because he’s always been so good to me too. He’s that kind of older-brother type who teases you mercilessly but also makes you feel completely safe. Think younger Matthew McConaughey: cool, slow Texas charm wrapped up in a very good-looking package. He used to ...

So despite being viciously scolded for saying the Dodgers were in the World Series when they were actually in the National League Championship Series (another of my endless baseball blunders), the Los Angeles Dodgers are actually in the World Series starting tonight. Edit: I started this waaaaaay before the score was 10–2 in favor of the team from Canada. With that, my normally calm, composed, even “too cool for the room” husband will once again become a towel-biting, umpire-screaming madman in a T-shirt that’s older than both of us. The man is my husband. The T-shirt is a cartoon of a man named Orel (yet another mistake I made in my last blog) making the winning pitch in the 1988 World Series. Said T-shirt has not been washed since the Dodgers finally won again in the 2020 COVID season. He says it’s good luck — I say it’s a biohazard that somehow lives next to the perfectly preserved velvet box that held my wedding rings. It won’t take long after the first pitch before he’s pacin...

First, let me begin by saying: I am deeply sorry. To the entire Dodgers organization, to their fans everywhere, and especially to the one sitting on my couch in a 1988 World Series T-shirt with a cartoon caricature of a man named Oral (no, that’s not a joke). A T-shirt which, during the off-season, lives in the same drawer as the box my wedding ring came in — and has never, ever been washed. Earlier this week, in an innocent comment reply on my blog, I casually (and apparently prematurely) mentioned that the Dodgers were in the World Series. They are not. Right now they’re playing the Milwaukee Brewers in the National Championship. A harmless mistake, right? Wrong. According to Bubs, this is the kind of cosmic jinx that can derail an entire postseason. Never mind that I was sure the World Series was next because the Dodgers just won some other series. Never mind that baseball season seems to last approximately eleven and a half months of the year. What matters is that I put it in wr...

I make no secret that I met my husband when I was in middle school — in fact, I’ve made it part of my personality. Just like everyone else, my version of normal feels like the only way to live. I wouldn’t choose any other life, but sometimes you meet someone who makes you wonder, just for a second, what if? Yesterday, the kids and I flew home from San Antonio to Tucson. I’ve flown with two kids more times than I can count, but this was my first time flying with three. Normally I can plant myself firmly between Abby and TJ and keep the peace no matter how many hours we’re trapped in a plane or airport. This time, though, I had a six-month-old to keep fed, happy, and docile through a full travel day. As luck would have it, from the time we cleared security in San Antonio to the time we landed in Tucson, Abby and TJ decided they were best friends. They even helped each other with the activity books Bubs’s mom bought them. That left me with a unique problem: I had no idea how to strap in ...

The kids and I are still in Texas — and as I said in my last post, if only Bubs were here, I’d be in heaven. I like to think we’ve done a really good job splitting time between my family and Bub's family. It’s especially easy since his little sister is giving us a place to stay (in our old house, of course). On more mornings than not, I’ll wake up to my mother-in-law appearing like a cheerful ghost in my room with a bright, “There’s my little munchkin!” before scooping Ashley out of her bassinet. I should be upset at the violation of personal space, but considering she’s mastered giving Ashley a bottle and lets me sleep until nine… how could I possibly complain? By the time I’m up and moving, she and my father-in-law have already taken the kids to Target, and they’ll come back looking as if they robbed Santa’s workshop. Since my kids are on fall break from school in Arizona — while all the cousins here are still in class — we’ve had plenty of time at the in-laws’ house. My son TJ...