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I recently went to a new doctor for an annual check up. I brought 8-month-old Cash with me because I think it costs like $400 an hour to leave five kids with a babysitter. Cash is a crowd pleaser and a pretty mellow baby so I knew everything would go just fine.

Except that it didn’t. He was pissed off about something and just kept crying. As a result, I was flying through all the new patient paperwork and may have inadvertently said I suffered from Joshlucasitis, a condition where you watch the movie, “Sweet Home Alabama” too many times.

I finally saw the doctor who I’m going to guess was not the social chair of her sorority. She was very serious in that “I’ve never had a lemon drop shot” kind of way. But she was nice and didn’t seem to mind the fussy baby in the room.

After the check-up, the nurse gave me one of those stylish paper shirts to wear for an EKG. I put it on and while I waited for the nurse to return, I picked up Cash because he was finding the stroller extremely unacceptable.

Have you ever seen what a baby does to paper? Not an origami butterfly if that’s what you are thinking. In mere seconds, he ripped off one of my sleeves and was diving for the other one, when I plopped him back in the stroller.

My EKG was all good and then the doctor gave me a sheet for some lab work.  So I shoved the sheet in my purse and didn’t really think much about it again. Until I found this a few days ago….

lab form 2

So do you think they will still take this at Quest Diagnostics?


Two days ago, my dad had hip replacement surgery. Before the surgery, he called to tell me that if he died during the operation, he was dying a happy man.

I told him that I’m all for happiness but I’d prefer if he didn’t actually die.

And it’s a good thing he didn’t or else he wouldn’t have gotten a chance to partake in the Jennifer Lawrence dress phenomenon.

You see, actress Jennifer Lawrence wore this to the Golden Globes…


Now some people thought she looked a lot like Ariel…

Jennifer Lawrence look a like

And that’s when the #Lawrencing craze began. Everyone started doing it…

Screen shot 2014-01-16 at 12.24.39 PM

Even dogs…

Screen shot 2014-01-16 at 12.25.02 PM

So then I thought to myself – what better way to cheer up my dad after hip replacement surgery, than get him Lawrencing. I’m sure his physical therapist would recommend it.

dad jennifer lawrence 2

I can tell he feels better already.


1. Why would Jared Leto do this to his hair?!


It’s a ponytail and a bun. You know how I know? Because I used to wear my hair like this when I was studying for finals in college. Not to the Golden Globes.

2. I love Andy Samberg. I wept when he left “Saturday Night Live.” Maybe not so much weeping as just saying to my husband, “Oh that sucks that Andy Samberg is leaving SNL.” But I do think he is very funny and I really wanted to like his new sitcom “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

But the show feels uninspired and flat to me and the morning of the Golden Globes, I deleted it from my DVR for good. And then bam – two Golden Globes for the show. I think the Hollywood Foreign Press might be a little drunk. Okay, a lot.

3. Why would a 70-year-old man (who looks so much like my dad) jump on one of those electric motorcycles just two days before his hip replacement surgery?

dad on motorcycle

I guess he figured he hadn’t done enough damage to his body trying to ice skate with the twins the week before.

dad ice skating

4. Why does everyone think Jennifer Aniston is pregnant because of this photo…

85th Annual Academy Awards - Arrivals

Apparently, it’s the placement of Justin Theroux’s hand that is the tell tale sign. I guess she could be pregnant.

Or maybe she just leaned over to Justin and said, “Honey, that triple cheese beef taco I ate in the limo is not sitting well with me. I am so bloated  I am about to bust out of my Spanx so be a dear and put your hand in front of my stomach while I get my photo taken.”

Or that pregnant thing.

5. Why are they pretending that Haddie Braverman never existed on “Parenthood?” I really think she would have shown up to her mom’s election night. I’m not even a big Haddie fan but I don’t like when TV shows just change the rules like that. That little Nora Braverman better watch her back.

6. My girls loved the movie “Frozen” and I thought it had a pretty good message for girls. Plus, I seriously adore that snowman. But Disney, enough of the anorexic waistlines and big weird doe eyes.  It’s not a good example for young girls and it’s super creepy.


Yes, creepier than Jared Leto’s pony-bun.


One morning, I walked into the bathroom and saw this…

barbie doll suicide

And I immediately thought, “Wow. What the heck is going on there? Oh, this is definitely ending up in one of my blog posts.”

And then later on in the day, I saw this on Twitter…

Screen shot 2014-01-12 at 10.36.42 PM

Oh snap! My husband just stole my blog material.

He felt horrible. And by horrible, I mean, he didn’t seem to care much at all. He claims, he’s given me plenty of blog material over the years.

I don’t know what he’s talking about. Because I would never poke fun at him for  sleeping with his Emmy award or his safety dance pants or his willingness to trade shirts with strangers.

“Well what am I supposed to blog about now?” I ask.

“How about that rye bread thing?”

“Oh you mean, the fact that we buy a rye bread each week, you eat the four slices in the middle, then throw the rest in the freezer because it’s no longer fresh. And now we have 14 bags of half eaten rye bread in our freezer. Yeah, maybe I’ll mention it.”

And then I gave a fierce warning…

“Rick – if Barbie dolls ever commit suicide again in our bathroom or anywhere else in the house – do not tweet about it. Or post it on Facebook. Or Instagram. Or write it on a poster board. Or even a post-it note.”

He seemed to take me seriously but it was hard to tell because he was focused on eating a fresh rye bread turkey sandwich.

“So what are you going to blog about?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. Maybe a post about how you stole my blog post. That might work.”


The first time I ever heard about breast pumps was when one of my best college friends pumped in the way back of a car while a bunch of us were driving around on vacation in New Orleans. (She had left her baby for the weekend and needed to pump to keep producing milk while she was away.)

I didn’t really know what she was doing exactly in the back of that car but it was apparently very important because the term “liquid gold” kept being thrown around.

Once I had a baby, I learned all about the pumping thing. That basically you hook up a machine to your boobs and then it hopefully sucks the milk out like some sort of human cow while making a bizarre noise that sounds like a secret message from the dairy gods.

Meanwhile, the husbands have to act like it is completely normal to see their lovely wives attached to one of these medieval contraptions.

One of the worst things is pumping while at work. Because you invariably forget and all of a sudden you are in some meeting while your breasts, which have grown to the size of honeydew melons, are leaking faster than the BP Gulf oil spill. You have to immediately excuse yourself and seek refuge.

And unless you work for some fancy company with a deluxe breast pumping suite (I did not),  you have to barricade yourself in cold, public bathroom so you can pump and bring yourself some relief. Then you shove the milk in a community fridge and hope Eddie from Ad Sales doesn’t mistake it for his vanilla creamer.

I’m on my 5th kid and I’ve barely pumped this go around. But my sister Quinn who works 3 days a week as a lawyer must pump regularly. Which is fine because she has an office with a lock.

Except the lock broke.

So when it was time to pump, she shut the door and left this note for anyone who might come by wanting to see her….

Breast Pumping Note on Office Door

Surely, that girl deserves a new lock because it’s only a matter of time before some harried paralegal comes barreling in with a frantic deadline and has to witness what only a husband should have to see. They will be sorry indeed.

kelcey kintner


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