Letting our freak flags fly.

"Your son is wearing Cars pajamas and snow boots."

"So."

"In church?"

Of all the advice I have gotten in my two short years of parenting, and let me tell you, EVERYONE is always giving advice, it would be to choose your battles. Truer words were never spoken. I am comfortable in this relaxed lifestyle, I am embracing all the weird quirks my boys possess, and I have never used the word "unique" so much in my life. I mean, you can only say "no" so many times, before it should dawn on you, that maybe the person in the wrong here, is you. Why should I care what other people think? I am happy, the boys seem happy. It's all good (isn't that what the kids are saying these days?).

I do abide by some rules. Electrical outlets, bad. Dynamite, bad. Three meals a day, required...in theory (earthworms ARE food).

Don't discount the value of our clothing, somewhat optional, shoes, never, naps, overrated, lifestyle. And that means you, overly judgey first time mom, with your rigid military schedules, in your "Breastfeed or Die" t-shirt, toting your "Raising an Emotionally Intellegent Child" manual. We don't need your kind around here.

Now excuse me, I have a mud pie to make.