My sisters started blogging. And they're funny. And witty. But it's not fair. They have secret weapons. They have an endless supply of stories about a child barfing in their face in the middle of the night, pictures of little babies that make you want to vom they're so cute, and they can talk about all the flatulence they had when they were pregnant (sorry, a little heavy on bodily functions ...) .
I don't have kids (or a pregnancy). But I do have stories about baking Kringla that was so gross my mom tried it and spit it out (it's a conspiracy ... I still maintain she didn't give me the right recipe), coworkers kicking the exercise ball I sit on at work in hopes that I fall off, and even stories about having a dance party for one while doing dishes and pretending that I'm in the middle of a circle of people who are all cheering because of my sweet, sweet moves.
So, yea. You guys have those stories to look forward to ...
