Author: bananafudgenut

Are you trying to ruin my life with that hat?!?

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Freshman year of high school my choir went to London. I spent months fundraising. I am sure that my parents “donated” a sizeable sum in order for me and my father to go.

Let’s talk about my father for a second. He is super supportive and would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He is also the most hardworking person I know. I blame him for my need to be constantly busy. All through childhood he worked his full time day job. He also had a part time job delivering pizzas, was captain of the softball team, dartball team, and on church council. He read us adventure books…Sherlock Holmes, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit….. every night. He’s amazing. He is also quite possibly the worst communicator I have ever met.

One day at youth group, all the girls decided they were all going to play on the softball team captained by none other than my dear sweet dad. I was not athletic nor competitive. I am also more likely to run away from the ball than try to catch it. I told everyone no I was not joining the softball team. So my dad picks us up from youth group and every one is yelling Paul! Paul! You have to make Laura join the softball team. My father being the stellar communicator he is says ” I don’t want her on my team!” To all my friends….YEARS of therapy later….I can confidently say that my father meant I am not going to make her play of she doesn’t want to play. But you better believe we all make fun of him for it every chance we can.

Moving on…my father decides to chaperone the choir trip and we all go to London. Given the volatility of our relationship, it is surprising that angsty teenage Laura was okay with this but I remember it being really great to have him along. We sang in cathedrals and took castle tours. Durring free time dad and I walked around London sometimes just the two of us. It was the closest I had ever felt to him. One of our excursions took us to Portabello road which brought me back to my childhood watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks….my father decided to buy this ridiculous hat and wore it everywhere after that day. I complained everytime he put it on. It was an amazing trip! Embarrassing hat and all.

Family, Brisket, and Bug bites!

Well, we just wrapped up a week with my mother-in-law and nephew (who has Down syndrome and the biggest heart you’ve ever seen) staying with us — and wow, what a full, fun, chaotic few days it’s been.

To kick things off properly, I smoked a brisket. And when I say “smoked a brisket,” I mean I babysat a chunk of meat for hours like it was my fourth child. Totally worth it—tender, flavorful, and just enough leftovers to snack on at midnight while pretending not to hear the kids waking up again.

We had a magical movie night under the stars, with the three kiddos bundled up in blankets like popcorn-filled burritos. There’s something about watching animated animals on a projector while the night sky twinkles above and mosquitoes turn you into their personal buffet that just screams summer memories. Ferocious little things. I’m still scratching. Knowing that mosquitoes are not an integral part of the food chain and serve no purpose other than carrying disease and making life miserable makes the itching somehow worse.

Wine was consumed. A totally appropriate, adult amount of wine. Okay, a lot of wine. But when there are kids screaming, bugs feasting on your legs, and someone always asking for snacks, a generous pour becomes more of a survival strategy.

Now it’s back to real life: getting Jazmyn ready for school (how is summer alreadyover?!?), and tackling the soffits and fascia on the house. Because nothing says “back to normal” like standing on a ladder questioning all your life choices while covered in paint and mosquito bites.

Next time the bosses invite my husband to a fundraiser, I’m putting the corporate card on file….

Tonight my husband and I traded our usual toddler chaos and dinner negotiations for bow ties, bubbles, and beautiful lawns at the Penfield Croquet Ball. It was one of those picture-perfect evenings—twinkling lights, garden party glamour, the faint clink of mallets on croquet balls, and of course, my husband looking like my own personal 007. (Truly, he serves as my full-time eye candy and did not disappoint.)

Now, if you know my husband, you know he’s a good sport—adventure-ready, patient beyond belief (especially when it comes to the kiddos), and always game for whatever event I rope him into. As a stay-at-home dad, he juggles snack time, storybooks, and school pickups like a pro while I chase my career, attend networking events, and pour my energy into nonprofit work. I couldn’t do half of what I do without his support—and probably none of it without him keeping our household running with calm and humor.

Back to the Croquet Ball. The evening was full of charm and community, and, well, a few too many glasses of champagne for one of us. At one point, I turned around and realized—my darling husband had raised his paddle. Was it planned? No. Did we walk away with a very unexpected auction item? Also no. He donated to the cause. And you know what? He did it with a grin. That’s who he is: spontaneous, sweet, and always in on the adventure with me.

He might be the one watching Bluey on loop during the week, but when it’s time to step out, he cleans up well—and keeps me laughing the whole time.

The Penfield Croquet Ball was more than a night out; it was a reminder of how lucky I am to have a partner who’s with me in every season—whether it’s stroller walks or champagne toasts, packed lunches or paddle raises.Here’s to unexpected wins, sparkling evenings, and the eye candy I get to call my husband.

We skipped the snip –  Now  diapers and discovery channel.

Diapers, potty training, and erections…

How cool is being a mom? Today it’s pretty awesome. I got home from work, which dare I say was uneventful (I may pay for that statement tomorrow) to tiny human #3, 10 month old Phoebe, trying to walk and ride her little bike.

Phoebe is my child, who was meant to be. Not that the other two were accidents… we asked for them. But Thaddeus (or Little Man)-tiny human #2- is A LOT. In every way and every situation. Good. And bad. So here I am 39 and not really ready to shut the door, but not sure we could survive a 3rd. I went to pick Thaddeus up at daycare. The kiddos were all outside on the playground. The teacher saw me and asked “Did they tell you what Thaddeus did?” Ok. Give me a minute….I took a deep breath. Here we go. What did he do? Thaddeus climbed up the 8 foot tower with the big slide, but instead of going down the slide he pulls his pants down and peed of the side of tower. Great. Perfect. Buddy we don’t go potty on the playground. You have to go pee pee in the potty. A few days later Little Man has discovered his erection and proceeds to go around and ask everyone if they want to see his big penis. Buddy. You better get this out now when you’re little and cute because in a few years, you’ll be looking at a felony. I told my husband he could go ahead and schedule that vasectomy. Two weeks later, I’m ugly crying because one of my employees was mad at me. About the snip…..guess we dont have to worry about that for at least 9 months. Now here I am 40 with a 6, 3, and 10 month old. Phoebe is my bright, bubbly, go with the flow baby. A higher power knew we needed her!

As I sit here and write this, Jazmyn (tiny human #1)  and Little Man are sitting outside with me as I grill chicken (everything tastes better on the grill. Also, try Melinda’s spicy garlic parmesan wing sauce. It’s amazing) on this beautiful August night, writting their own stories, just like mommy. Life is pretty great!