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My son underwent surgery this week to remove a piece of glass in his foot. Hold on there Kelcey – is this a recycled post from last May? This whole surgery thing sounds very familiar.

And yes, indeed 2 year old Cash did have surgery to remove glass from his foot last May. But here’s the problem. THERE WAS STILL GLASS IN THERE. Yup, this is take two.

How did we know there was still glass in his foot? Well, Cash mentioned something about wanting some cheddar Goldfish and I, with my finely tuned maternal instincts, took that for toddler code that there was something still stuck in there.

Okay, that might not be quite right. Actually, his walking has been off since the initial surgery so they did an x-ray and there it was.

Cash pre surgery

His doctor referred to removing this glass as “trying to find a needle in a haystack” but I think of it more as “another hefty co-pay!” And no, the hospital wasn’t running a 2 for 1 on foot surgeries. I even checked Groupon.

And you know what you shouldn’t do when waiting for your child to come out of surgery… read scary surgery stories on 24 hour news sites. But I did anyway. What is it about humans that we like to torture ourselves?

Anyway, he woke up from the surgery screaming and thrashing and thinking, “I was feeling pretty good about this hospital playroom and these super nice nurses and then you all went and cut open my foot again. What the heck people?!!”

But after some pain meds, he thankfully rested for a bit…

Cash post surgery 1

And woke up far less agitated….

Cash post surgery 2

Well, thank goodness for that age old saying, “the second time is the charm” because Cash would hate to do this surgery a third time.


A friend of mine was recently checking her kid’s phone and she stumbled on a text exchange between her nanny and her tween daughter.

In the text, her daughter asks… what is a prostitute?


As that point, the nanny should obviously text back, “I only take questions about what’s for dinner. Mac and cheese by the way. All question about hookers and pimps have to be handled by your parents! So feel free to text them at work!”

But instead the nanny attempts to explain what a prostitute is. Yup, she really does. Via text.

Text with babysitter

I’m sure that’s also the official Merriam-Webster definition of a prostitute.

I don’t know what I would say if one of my kids asked me about prostitution.

I think I’d pop in a DVD of Pretty Woman and let Julia Roberts do all the explaining.


Hey guys. It’s Cash. I’m 2 1/2 years old now and I spend most of my time scaring the crap out of my parents. Check out my visit to a 5th floor New York City balcony before my mom yanked me inside and started hyperventilating.

That woman really knows how to stress the small stuff. I mean, can’t a kid get a little fresh air without everyone freaking out?!

Anyway, I went to a grocery store (for the millionth time) today.  I’ve gotten a little bored of just throwing stuff out of the cart so I decided to try something new. At the checkout counter, I started pulling things out of some other lady’s cart and putting them in my cart. For awhile, nobody noticed anything. Then all of sudden, my mom says to the checkout guy….

“Wait, I wasn’t buying bananas. I think those belong to someone else.”

And then she’s says, “And how did those salmon burgers get in there?”

Wow. Was I laughing on the inside!  Of course, on the outside, I had to be all, I’m just a cute toddler and I don’t know what’s going on.

My mom pulled out the bananas and the salmon burgers and returned them to the lady. Then she paid for our stuff and headed to the parking lot. As she’s putting the bags into the car, she notices there are two challah breads.

At this point, I can only high five myself for my incredible thievery skills.

By now that lady I stole all the stuff from is pulling out of the parking lot. My moms runs over, waving that challah bread like a lunatic and knocks on her car window.

“Hey, I think my son stole your challah bread too!  I’m so sorry. Here please take it.”

Of course the lady wants to give my mom money and my mom refuses to take it. Have you ever noticed that about adults? They are always arguing who is going to pay for something. They’ll fight like hell to treat each other to dinner but when I want a double fudge ice cream cone, suddenly there’s no money to be found and I have to wait until college to tap into the financial reserves.

Anyway, so my mom returns the challah to the woman and then turns to me and says, “Cash, stop stealing food from people.”

And I just look at her and smile because I’m two and how the heck do I know what she’s talking about.

Oh one last tidbit.

Later that day I was playing with my siblings in the house. I took my diaper off because man is that thing bulky. And then I immediately peed all over the kitchen floor. Of course my sisters and brother acted like there was a rabid raccoon in the house and all jumped on the countertops.

Which for some reason made my mom super mad and then she slipped in my pee.

That was the most awesome thing ever.

She’s okay. I think a loaf of challah broke her fall.

Cash with challah bread

Okay that’s it for me. If I ever figure out how to log on to this computer again, I’ll write more. The password is usually CashIsCrazy. Whatever that means.


I just got back from a 4 day visit to New York City with all my kids.


My 5 year old said her favorite part was visiting Dunkin’ Donuts so obviously it was money well spent.

In life, I can be a bit over ambitious at times. Which is exactly how I ended up on an airplane alone with 5 children.

Here’s my biggest advice for when you see a mom traveling alone with many children. First, pick up one of her many carry on bags and help get it to her seat. Second, buy her a glass of wine as soon as the refreshment service begins. And third, make sure you are not seated in front of her 2 year old. Because no one can kick the hell out of a seat like a 2 year old.

Luckily my mom met me in the city so I wasn’t completely on my own. We did some fun stuff like visiting the American Museum of Natural History and the Children’s Museum of the Arts. And of course that noteworthy New York City destination… the Statue of Liberty. Oh wait, I meant Dunkin’ Donuts.

I’ve actually never been to the Statue of Liberty. I mean, sure I was born in New York City and lived a short distance from it for most of my life but I don’t want to rush it. In good time.

And there is a new chapter in 2 year old Cash’s never ending effort to give me nervous breakdowns.

I can’t really bear to drag this story out because I’m still having post traumatic stress syndrome but the 5th floor apartment we were staying at had an outside deck. A locked outdoor deck.

Well, at one point, 5 year old Harlowe says to me, “Cash is outside.”

I stare at her, not really understanding but at the same time I start racing towards this deck and there is Cash, standing on a chair trying to peer over the side.

I immediately grab him, run inside and relock the door.

How did he get out? His 5 year old brother unlocked the door.

Why would he unlock the door? He doesn’t know why because he’s a 5 year old boy.

What if Harlowe hadn’t told me? It’s terrifying.

So anybody who saw me at the Museum of Natural History with Cash on his backpack leash, don’t judge me. This kid has no regard for his personal safety and I’m just trying to keep serious tabs on him.

I’m grateful to be home. Although I still haven’t unpacked from the trip. Because that would involve things like taking stuff out of suitcases and laundry.

Like the Statue of the Liberty. All in good time.



Saturday Night.

Husband: Let’s watch a movie.

Wife: Sure. But what?

Husband: I have two movies I want to see. One’s a documentary.

Wife: Okay, what’s the other?

Husband: The other is a biographical film. It’s called Love & Mercy and it’s about Brian Wilson.

Wife: The Beach Boys are fun. Let’s watch a preview.


3 minutes later.

Wife: Okay, so it’s about Brian Wilson’s downward spiral into mental illness and some radical therapist who basically stole his money. Tell me about the documentary.

Husband: It’s about a pet cemetery.

Wife: Of course it is.

Husband: It’s a classic. It’s call Gates of Heaven. Roger Ebert said it was one of the best movies ever.

Wife: I just can’t do dead pets. Anything less depressing? More light and airy?  How about that Melissa McCarthy movie, Spy?

Husband: Let’s watch a preview.

3 minutes later.

Husband: I don’t think so.

Wife: What about The Intern? My mom said it was very good. Apparently she doesn’t have the “I don’t like Anne Hathaway” issue that many Americans suffer from. Mostly because she has no idea who Anne Hathaway is. And bonus, no romance between Hathaway and Robert De Niro because ick.

Husband: Nope, not on demand yet. The Martian?

Wife: How many hours do I have to watch Matt Damon alone on Mars, trying to get plants to grow?

Husband: Let’s see. 2 hours and 24 minutes.

Wife: What happened to the 90 minute movie? What about The Big Short?

Husband: It’s in the theaters right now. Just came out.

Wife: We should be able to stream movie theater films right into our home. It’s 2016. Why can’t we do that?

Husband: How about the Vacation remake? With Christina Applegate and Ed Helms. Only 1 hour and 39 minutes.

Wife: Yes! And Chevy Chase is in it. So we can have the “What happened to Chevy Chase? Why is he so bloated and Ben Franklin-esque” conversation.

Husband: Done.

1 hr, 39 minutes later.

Wife: That was funny! Especially for a remake. Not 100% realistic but better than I thought it would be. But seeing Chevy Chase is depressing. I want him to be young and funny again.

Husband: That’s easy. We can just watch the original. 


Wife: Good point. Anyway, I’m sorry you didn’t learn about Brian Wilson’s downward spiral into mental illness or pet cemeteries.

Husband: Another night.

kelcey kintner