When she’s not cleaning up poop from the children or the two awful dogs(or Boston Terrorists as she calls them), she tries to keep her husband in clean underwear and attempts to rescue the coupon section of the weekend paper from her in-laws recycling bin.
In all her spare time, she is currently working on her Great American Novel, reading the mountain of advanced-copy books found at the Salvation Army (for a steal, no less), and teaching her daughters Civil War facts they will someday use in a riveting, televised Trivial Pursuit game.
She is forgetting to mention the on-going battle with the baby weight. Because, if it’s not acknowledge, it doesn’t exist. Right?