پاکستان میں Mostbet com ویب سائٹ ملاحظہ کریں، اور آپ یقینی طور پر کھیلوں پر شرط لگانے یا آن لائن کیسینو میں کھیلنے کے لیے یہاں واپس آنا چاہیں گے۔ کھیلوں کے شائقین کو ایونٹس کے ایک بڑے انتخاب، مختلف پروموشنز اور بونسز، مفت بیٹس، مفت گھماؤ اور زیادہ مشکلات تک رسائی حاصل ہے۔ اور کھیل کو مزید آسان بنانے کے لیے، ہم نے ایک موبائل ایپلیکیشن تیار کی ہے جسے آپ آسانی سے اپنے فون پر انسٹال کر سکتے ہیں۔

Free Advice Friday! The puberty talk, help!

 

 

Dear Kim,

I recently purchased your Beaver Baby to explain the “miracle of life” to my 6 year old son. He hasn’t asked me yet, but at least I’m prepared and can gross people out with it in the meantime.  My question today is, do you have anything that could help me explain puberty to my 12 year old daughter?  If not, any ideas?  I’m really not looking forward to this!

Please help,

Unprepared Penny

 

 

Dear Nickel,

You bought a Beaver Baby from me?! Thanks so much!  You’ll be happy to know that 100% of the proceeds go directly to my pocket!  Granted, it’s not tax deductible but I write your name on every dollar that I spend so that my nail technician, eyelash lady, and hair stylist know that you, dear Quarter, have contributed to my cause. Without donors like you, the research needed to make me beautiful would not be possible.  I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but before Beaver Baby funding became available, I was forced to cut corners, like using duct tape to wax my bikini area and doing my own spray tans.

 Mexico, 2011 (also known as Year of the Furry Brown Zebra)

Do me a favor Dime, let me know how the Beaver Baby demonstration goes over with your son.  Truth be told, I haven’t explained their purpose to my children yet.  In fact, Ana thinks they’re slippers and hops around the house, occasionally taking them off to admire their warm fuzzy lining…and getting faux pubes everywhere. Come to think of it,  that’s probably why she hasn’t been invited to any sleepovers.

As for your puberty issue, listen, I haven’t told my kids squat… zip, zero, nothing, and that’s the way I plan on keeping it.  Period, Shmeriod.  For all they know, I get a bloody nose 5 days a month and use Super Plus tampons to stop the bleeding (a brilliant suggestion by my friend Lori at The Next Step).  I’ve even figured out how to secretly change them out while my daughter’s in the same 4×4 bathroom stall with me.  Friends and family call me “The Menstrual Ninja”, a moniker that draws, what I can only describe as, looks of admiration when being introduced to new people.

Peso, I suggest waiting until your daughter gets her period, then tell her it’s nature’s way of punishing her for thinking about boys. Consequently, that should also delay the “sex” talk for a few years, or entirely.

I’m sorry I don’t have better advice for you but I come from a long line of sex-talk avoidance.  You see, my grandmother was told that she was delivered by the postman, and my mother believed babies came from Sears & Roebuck.  When she realized I wasn’t returnable despite keeping her hospital receipt, the fear was palpable in my formula.  THAT is the kind of old fashioned parenting I strive to emulate.  Besides, I figure they can learn all that stuff from the kids at school.  Isn’t that why I send them to school anyway, to learn stuff I don’t want to teach them?

Take care, Dollar, and keep dodging those questions!

Kim

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Free Advice Friday! A fabulous business opportunity for you and you and you!

If you read Tuesday’s post then you know that my family and I are currently on stay-cation. And can I just say, we’re a little less than thrilled with our accommodations.

Anyway, today is Free Advice Friday so I thought I’d take a quick break from all the excitement happening in our resort’s lounge area (aka- our family room), and answer a question that I received last week.

 

 

Dear Kim,

Other than your blog and being a mother, do you work outside of the home? I’m thinking of getting a part time job but my kids keep me busy, I’m afraid it’ll prove to be too much.

Thanks,

Becky

 

 

Dear Becky,

Technically, I do work outside of the house during the school year- I work in my driveway.

You see, last summer my kids decided to operate a stand selling watered-down lemonade and store bought chocolate chip cookies (at a 500% markup, because kids are cute and they can get away with that shit). Inspired by their business model and their overflowing piggy banks, I decided to start my own stand.

Now, when the kids are in school, I take their stand to the bottom of our driveway, replace the “Lemon” in Lemonade with “Mommy”, and sell frozen margaritas and psychological counseling to all of the stay-at-home-moms in my neighborhood.

Based on a recent Mommyade customer survey, my margaritas are a huge hit!  The psychological counseling, not so much.  But despite feedback like, “I’ve received better advice from mass produced fortune cookies” and “I thought you had a Masters in Psychology?”, business is booming!

*In my defense, I said I considered myself a “master of psychology”…and she had been drinking.

Becky, you’ve come to me at the perfect time!  I’m currently looking to expand Mommyade by offering franchise opportunities to the first people 10 million people that contact me, SO ACT FAST!

For only$199 and 30% of your profits, I’ll send you my margarita recipe and a list of my more successful canned counseling responses such as: “How did that make you feel?”, “Really? It looks like you lost weight to me.”, and “No, he’s the asshole.”

Of course, you’ll need to secure your own Mommyade stand, driveway location, lawn chairs, tissues, limes, margarita machine, cups, and tequila.  Oh, and I highly recommend increasing your homeowner’s liability insurance.  It’s as easy as 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9!

If you’re interested, email me today for an application and you could have your stand up and running by the first day of school- traditionally my biggest sales day of the year!

I’ll keep an eye out for your application request!

 

Yours truly,

Kim

 

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Free Advice Friday – Nursemaid or Nurse Slave to your kids?

Dear Kim,

Please help! Recently, my son had dental work. Therefore, it was “liquid, to soft, to regular diet as tolerated”. Well, after Day 1 he developed strep throat sooo it was back to liquids or whatever I could get him to eat. I was literally spoon feeding him chocolate ice cream! His temp was 103.4. Poor baby! Right?!?!

Well, Kim, now the fever has broken..thank goodness!! However it’s Day 5 and he still wants ME to help him eat, he says he cannot eat solids because it hurts?!?!

Help!
Nursemaid in Nebraska

PS. He is 6 years old!!

 

 

Dear Nursemaid,

Answer me this…is he at least wiping his own ass?

So your little darling insists that you hand feed him like he’s a baby bird. Well lucky for you, I happen to have second-hand experience with such matters, and second-experience is almost always better than third-hand experience.

Nursemaid, when I was in 7th grade I had this friend named Karen. I really liked Karen and her large family, until the day they took me on a 5 hour bike ride, uphill, in the middle of July, because that was their stupid idea of family fun. “What’s wrong with bowling?” I asked. Sadly, when 8th grade started, we were no longer friends. Turns out, 20 miles of sweating and sticking to a plastic banana seat is my friendship tipping point. Who knew?

Anyway, one Spring afternoon, Karen’s sister found a baby bird laying in the middle of their yard. She quickly brought it in and convinced her entire family that they had to raise it and teach it to fly. Like bats out of hell, they all hopped on their ten speeds and rode to the neighboring town library- which was about 10 miles away. Freaks. At dusk, they returned home with 50 million books, including, “Raising Wild Animals!” by Ura Phool and “Regurgitating for Dummies” by Ima Bryd.

For weeks, they hand fed that baby bird ridiculous milkshakes made from peanut butter, chicken (which still doesn’t seem right to me), and jelly beans. I think the books they borrowed from the library were being used to hold open a door or something.

One day, a neighbor told them that they had to start giving the bird real food, food that he would normally eat in the wild. Otherwise, there’s no way he’d survive on his own as an adult. And so they did.

That bird ate those crappy seeds and nuts, only because it’s all that was offered. But he was PISSED! And everyone knew he was pissed because he started doing mean stuff like, shitting on their lawn chairs, biting them at meal time, and hoarding things in his nest. He hoarded strange things too, things like small pool toys, hair accessories, acorns, and Kotex pantyliners which were often stuck to his furry brown tail. Now that I think about it…he might have been a flying squirrel.

Yes, he was definitely a flying squirrel.

Nursemaid, bird or flying squirrel, my advice is the same:

1. Remove all of his favorite liquid and soft foods from the house.

2. Purchase all of his favorite solid foods.

3. Offer to *regurgitate them.

*I’m told that regurgitating on demand is difficult, not to mention hell on your esophagus. Instead, simply chew up his food then spit it out on his plate for consumption.

By following the above steps, I have no doubt that his throat will start to feel better almost immediately!

 

Sincerely sorry for you,

Kim

 

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Free Advice Friday! So, you’re having an identity crisis?

Dear Kim,

Before I became a stay at home mom, I had a successful career as a corporate lawyer. I used to go to dinner parties and impress people with my job title and responsibilities. But now when someone asks, “So what do you do for a living?”, I don’t know how to answer them. I’m not sure who I am anymore. I think I’m going through a bit of an identity crisis right now. Do you have any advice?

 

Sincerely,

Melinda in Whoville, CA

 

Dear Melinda,

You’re not alone, sister! I’ve been there. Fortunately, I have some straightforward advice, but unfortunately, I feel compelled to tell it in the most convoluted way possible.

Years ago, I knew this guy named Neil. Neil was a regular at my anger management program, which I held every Monday and Wednesday night at the Sussex County Community Center. He was a really nice guy with this super calm demeanor. In fact, he was so calm I started to think he was only there for the free donuts and Starbucks coffee. So one day, I pulled Neil aside, confronted him with my suspicions, and asked him to leave the group. Melinda, he became so outraged over my accusations that he punched a hole in the wall- right next to my head!

“Now that’s more like it!” I said, “Welcome back to the group!”

Shortly after that, Neil stopped coming. I thought about him often, but my life went on: I eventually got fired from my anger management position because of my temper, became a life coach at SUX 2B U, left that job because my clients weren’t self-motivated enough, opened WTF Greeting Cards but it got shut down because of air conditioning issues (something about a sweat shop), made the USA Trampoline Team only to be kicked off because of my incontinence problem, then I finally settled down and had kids. Now I’m a stay-at-home mom without a paying job. Melinda, like you, I felt like I had lost my identity…well, actually, several identities. But I digress, this story is about Neil…

About 8 years ago, I saw Neil in a Sears parking lot getting into this black Mercedes convertible. I ran right over and asked him why he never returned to the group. This is what he told me…

 

While in Boston, on the way to a Celtics game, he was jumped by a group of diners gathered outside of a TGI Friday’s restaurant (coincidentally, this happened on a Friday). When he woke up in the hospital, he couldn’t remember his name, address, or phone number- basically he forgot who he was and all his identification had been stolen. The only things he had were the clothes on his back, a basketball jersey and shorts. For days, he sat around thinking he might be a basketball star. It wasn’t until he threw his empty pudding cup at the wastebasket and missed that he knew his assumption had been wrong.

Deciding to embrace his anonymity, he fell in love with the nurse who catheterized him (he didn’t need a catheter, he was just too lazy to get up and pee) and together they moved to Cancun, purchased a capuchin monkey named Monty, and started a business taking pictures of Monty on the shoulders of drunken vacationers. They called it Monkey Business (not a very clever name if you ask me). Monkey Business was a huge success and now they have franchises all over the world! (UPDATE: I looked this up and I think Neil might have exaggerated this part).

Just think, if Neil had known who he really was, he might have gone back to his wife and 7 kids and missed out on this wonderful adventure.

So Melinda, here’s my two cents: When you don’t know who you are, you’re free to stop operating within the confines of who you’re supposed to be.

Whoa! That’s some heavy shit I just laid on you! I say get that printed on some cocktail napkins and take them to your next dinner party.

 

Yours in identity crisis,

Kim

 

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