After all these years with Vince, I’ve come to accept most of his quirks—except his daily ritual of starving himself to the point of hangriness. Seriously, the man acts like food doesn’t exist until he’s seconds away from a meltdown. In this post, I break down his Gremlins-level transformation from sweet husband to raging beast—all because he skipped lunch again. Spoiler: it only takes one sandwich to turn him back into a lovable human. But until then… duck and cover folks!

The other day, when I got into the car, my phone automatically hooked up and began playing one of my audio episodes of the blog I’ve been recording. I was listening to them to make sure I didn’t have any errors in the first few episodes. The one that happened to come on is my post I wrote years ago about finding out about the menstrual cup. It’s aptly called – ‘put a cup in your vagina.’ As soon as she heard my voice read out the title, she looked at the screen to see what was playing. In typical teenager fashion, she rolled her eyes and screamed “oh my God, Mom! What the heck?!”

About a year ago, I started buying Kerrygold butter. I tried it out on a whim, based on a recipe that recommended it. More expensive doesn’t always mean better, but this butter is good. You notice the difference, especially if it’s being spread on something. Like toast or corn on the cob, for example.

Vince fell in love with the butter and questioned why we never got this before.

Me: Because it’s expensive. You only get like 2 sticks of butter for the price of 4.
Him: We need this butter. Not that “peasant butter”. This is the butter for kings and queens.

And so now, in our lives, we call the store brand butter, peasant butter. Vince will gauge our current financial status on whether or not I buy peasant butter or the good stuff. The King’s butter.

We had a repair tech at the house today to check out our garage fridge. It’s a piece of shit LG so of course the compressor is bad already. While the tech was in the garage, Vince came out to move the extra minivan seat out of the tech’s way and put it back into the van.

Ohhhhh mylanta.

A few months ago, I decided to replace our wifi password frame with something more substantial. The frame sits right on our entryway table. I’d walk pass it daily, glance at the password, and think “why do I have this here? We rarely have guests. And if we do, it’s like 1-2 people max. They can just ask us this information. This is such a waste.”

This frame is in a prime location of our home. I should put something more important in it. Something I want my family to look at every day.

Until 9:14pm last night, I thought I was pretty cool under pressure. At 9:15pm, I realized I was wrong. Because at 9:15pm, I thought my 13-year-old daughter had been abducted from soccer practice.

Up until that point, I assumed I would do all the right things in this situation. I’d take the right actions. Make the right choices. But, as I watched her little circle on Life360 leave the soccer field, knowing that she was not in our car, but in someone else’s, I panicked.