My train

The station was full of screaming children. I was grateful I bumped to business class. Until two of the little banshees came into business class with their mom. One broke his tray table before we left the station. God help me.

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M talks in his sleep

It typically starts with some weird question, as it did tonight. I just try to answer what I think he wants to hear, no matter how ridiculous. It keeps him calmer that way.

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Diet update

This morning I got on the scale for my weekly torture. I was simultaneously disappointed and breathing a sigh of relief. No change.

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Are we Americans? Or aren’t we?

Okay, I’ve debated whether or not to write about this. It’s controversial and a bunch of people are fired up about it. But ultimately, I feel I must. Because what is happening in my country right now is scaring the living shit out of me.

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Complementary colors

Well, we're fully into exploring our fashion sense now. I could hear her in her room this morning, rooting around in drawers. I laughed when I heard, "Oh! My tutu! My tutu!" That's what she calls that little purple skirt with ruffles thing. Then she called in to me, "Mommy? Do I have to match?" Oh boy. I told her she's a big girl now and can choose whatever she wants. She skipped out of her room so happy after she got dressed that her smile made the outfit. I can't help but love it, too. I said, "Wow, Zo. Purple and orange. You're so…bright!" She was quick to point out that there is bright yellow on her shirt, too. I wonder if this is how Lady Gaga started.

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Note to self

When encouraging your almost-five-year-old daughter to pick out her own clothes, remember to remove the one-size-too-small clothes from the drawer. If you don't, she will pick those items (naturally) and then refuse to change (of course). Then she, and you, end up looking ridiculous. M is freaking out, mumbling something about too-short shorts (they're called Daisy Dukes, sweetie) and how they must be retired immediately.

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