Blog Posts by Jennifer Marshall

If you've been following my blog for any length of time, you know by now that Goatdog and I have a love/hate relationship. Sure, he may look cute and all, but don't let that fool ya for even one little second:

photo-59He is the Tazmanian Devil disguised as an Airedale. You'd see just what I mean if you were to watch him in action when someone approaches our front door. It's like a bull's charging full speed ahead at a red piece of cloth. The jackass will no doubt body slam himself straight through the glass one of these days.

This is exactly what he did the other day when the carpet guy game to our house for an appointment. I'd managed to let the man in the door, just in time for Goatie to come barreling like a damn canon toward the poor guy. I quickly grabbed the dog's collar to try to pull him back, but I must have lost my footing somewhere in the process. I ended up flipping completely over the dog and landing smack dab on my back across the petrified carpet dude's feet. His

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What? You mean you don't have a son who likes to shop at Bed, Bath & Beyond? Really? Well, believe it or not, mine does. Perhaps it's because he's the type of kid, bless his unique little heart, who gets fixated on totally random objects. Lord knows why, but his latest fascination is a black, plastic clip-on fan, which he apparently saw on a recent laundry basket buying excursion.

Now most of the time when I try to drag my kids with me to run errands, I'm met with a symphony of moaning and groaning. But when I told my son he had to tag along to Bed, Bath & Beyond with me last week, he was suddenly an eager and willing participant. (Cue the "Twilight Zone" theme song.) I wasn't sure just what was up, but I certainly wasn't gonna over-think it.

Turns out that the oscillating fan section, of all bizarro things, had evidently caught his eye on a previous shopping trip. He literally yanked me over to the aisle as if he'd just discovered a unicorn or something. I wish I could

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As overly cautious as we are about protecting our children these days, it's a wonder any of us survived our own childhoods of yesteryear. Heck, many of us probably rode home from the hospital on our moms' laps IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE CAR (without a seat belt, no doubt)!! All this fragility makes me wonder if our kids are missing out on some of the good old-fashioned fun that we got to experience way back when.

What started me thinking about this whole thing is the recent fascination my kids have shown over speed bumps. They think it's the absolute greatest thing in the world when I don't slow all the way down before driving over them (the bumps not the kids). They giggle and howl and hoot and holler as their little booties bounce up merely half an inch off their booster seats. (Now, granted, I'm barely going 25 mph, but when you're eight years old, that's practically a full-speed wheelie!)

It reminds me of when I was a kid and would ride in the very back of my dad's

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To some people, this necklace might look like something the Malibu Barbie serial killer would wear. But to MY group of friends? Well, this fine piece of craftsmanship is something to be treasured -- at least until you anonymously pass it along to the next unsuspecting girl.

It all started last year when it was used as a prop in a very creative ensemble at our annual Halloween costume party. Poor Ken and all his glory was left behind at the end of the night in many different bits and pieces. And somehow or another, from that point on, his head and a few of his other body parts have became fun little additions to attach to an array of different hostess gifts (thanks to the funny and very clever mind of my friend Michele who should seriously be a regular on SNL). Yes, Ken's suave-lookin' mug has made its way around our neighborhood faster than a w---- makes her way through a fraternity house.

The necklace is currently in my possession since I somehow ended up bringing Ken

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It's a dirty job, but, unfortunately, somebody's gotta do it. And this weekend? Well, I was the one who got stuck being the bad cop. Cause short people lying straight to my face is just not something that I take too lightly.

It all went down on Sunday, which was an unfortunate flurry of activity around here with the kids coming off the high of their first official sleepover. Homework needed to be done, errands had to be run, and a block party was supposed to be attended. Needless to say, the combination of an overflowing to-do list mixed with the overall household exhaustion factor was nothing short of a recipe for disaster. If s--- was ever gonna hit a fan, Sunday would no doubt have been that day.

So when I busted my daughter flat-out lying to me about her orthodontic device that we've shelled out nearly $3,000 for, I was not about to let that slide. (Trust me when I tell you that it's such a stupid lie that I'm not even gonna bore you with all the details.) Just know

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Kids sure have a way of (figuratively) punching you right in the gut when you least expect it, don't they? Their unassuming words can wash a blanket of guilt right over you in nothing flat. And before you know it, you're feeling like the suckiest parent in the world and saving your pennies for the future therapy that your kid will inevitably need thanks to you.

Yes, sometimes, even when you dedicate over 98% of your day to your children, it's still apparently not enough. My daughter pointed this very fact out to me one night last week while tucking her into bed. She was beyond tired and cranky and ready for sleep, and she blurted out an accusation so stinging that she might as well have stabbed me right in the heart. Through a haze of tears and snot, she said, "You like your computer more than you like me." Ugh. That REALLY hurt.

Given that writing is my passion and that my ultimate goal is, in fact, to write a book some day, I am on my computer a decent amount of the

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When you're a dog owner, like it or not, scooping the poop kinda just goes with the territory -- at least it's supposed to anyway. And unlike some of the other yahoos around here, I would personally never leave a steaming pile of lawn sausages in my neighbor's front yard. It's just not the neighborly thing to do. Now do I enjoy picking up a handful of stinky dog dung? Heck no! Nevertheless, though, I gag my way through every s---ty little bit of it cause that's what I signed up for when I brought a four-legged friend into our family.

And let me just tell ya that poop patrol is certainly not for the faint of heart. Try as you may to get the whole heaping mess into that skinny little plastic bag, there are times when it ends up on YOU. Take, for instance, my afternoon walk with Goatdog last week when he dropped a load that could seriously rival a cow's. I wriggled and I jiggled it into the bag as much as I possibly could, but its mountainous size made it an impossible fit.