“The appraiser is coming on Tuesday,” Patrick told me.
“But that’s less than a week away!” I replied. “We have so much to do to get ready!”
The re-fi papers had gone through. We couldn’t turn back. A better mortgage could offer us a better life by saving us a sizable sum each month. But our approval would depend on the result of the appraisal.
I looked around my house and saw chaos.
Trucks and balls and plastic parts were strewn across the living room floor alongside a smattering of random socks. It was toy stew, and it had nearly consumed the couch. Crayon scribbles added a splash of color to my tan walls.
The cats had spilled speckles of kibble in a semicircle around their dish next to a refrigerator so covered in Collin’s artwork that you’d never know it was white, and therefore “dated.” The kitchen counters contained so many small appliances that the entire neighborhood would lose power if they were all turned on at once.
An ever growing, seldom shrinking mountain of clothing sat in a basket in front of the working dryer, while the dryer in need of repair assumed its temporary role as a landing place for displaced papers and would-be junk.
The powder room, though small, was the tidiest place and I wondered if it would be possible to encourage the appraiser to spend extra time in there.
I won’t even begin to describe the upstairs, but here are two clues: overstuffed closets and bathrooms in serious need of updating.
The bad news: I’m in for five days of cleaning the likes of which we’ve only seen on HGTV. The good news: I have time to get ready.
As soon as I finish writing the last sentence of this piece, I will launch into a frenzy to make my house look like no one lives in it. In reality, five people do. And with that comes our stuff. And since three of the five inhabitants are too young to clean up after themselves, our house always looks a little disheveled. Getting rid of some of the excess should help, but after that I need a better routine for keeping my home in appraiser-ready shape on a regular basis.
Our lives are like our homes. We live in them, with others, and sometimes it gets messy. But just as we do in our homes, we should take the time to clean up our spiritual selves. To cut out the junk that isn’t good for us on the inside. To obey the Commandments. To have a regular routine for worship by attending Mass and confession, by praying each day, and by sharing our gifts with others.
What would Jesus see if He stepped into your life today? What if He came to see your loved ones? The truth is we never know when our real appraiser is coming. We won’t have five day’s notice to straighten ourselves up. So, we must always strive to meet God’s standards for us, and hopefully, if we do we will be granted eternal life.
February 28, 2014 03:16
By Robyn Barberry
Baby food containers have changed dramatically since I began spooning puree into my children’s mouths in 2009. With Collin, it was glass jars. With Frank, plastic tubs. And now that Leo is getting ready to eat solid food, the pouch is all the rage.
Those little jars I got for Collin were under a dollar. Frank’s tubs were a little over a dollar. And the pouch? Nearly $2 a pop!
Baltimore dad Jordan Takas felt equally appalled at the cost of pouched baby food, but he also saw in it an opportunity. With his medical devices background, passion for wellness, and just plain ingenuity, Jordan developed a refillable pouch, which became EZ Squeezees.
EZ Squeezees zipper down the side to accommodate 6.5 ounces of squeezable product. (There are larger sized pouches in the works). On one end is a spout, which is where the product is dispensed. Though not advertised as such, the spout will accommodate an attachable spoon from a well-known baby products manufacturer. The best part of all is that the EZ Squeezee is easy to clean in your sink and even in the dishwasher!
To fill the EZ Squeezee, place on the lid, unzip the side of the pouch, blow in some air to fill the gusset, and spoon in the product. You can even write down the contents on the back of the pouch.
We tried the EZ Squeezee for a week, despite the fact that we won’t need to use it for baby food for a few more weeks. I used it to pack the remnants of my smoothie, rather than allowing my blender to consume precious refrigerator real estate. I also packed myself a protein shake for the gym. I found that the liquids leaked a little bit through the sides. Patrick had more success with hummus and almond butter, though squeezing those pasty condiments took a little more effort.
Baby and other pureed food – the intended fillers- are much better. Applesauce was the golden ticket for me. (Collin is getting some packed in an EZ Squeezee for his lunch tomorrow.)
As for baby food, I plan on making more of my own this time, due to increasing costs and to honor my desire to feed my children minimally processed vegetables and fruits. Using the EZ Squeezees to store Leo’s homemade food will make that goal much easier to attain for around the house or on the go. Just think – it packs flat when it’s empty and is kinder for the environment than the constant stream of plastic spilling out of homes with young children.
If you are the parent of a young child, or are health conscious when it comes to your diet, or care deeply about the environment, or, like me, are all of the above, the EZ Squeezee could easily enhance your day-to-day life. You can purchase EZ Squeezees at Wegman’s or Whole Foods (and possibly Giant in the spring) or from their website
. A three pack costs $9.99 and could pose a world of savings.
February 25, 2014 01:20
By Robyn Barberry
“I’m not your friend.”
The words no mother ever wants to hear when dropping her child off at preschool.
Collin, who is easily excited, called out to another classmate near the door. “Hey, Derrick,” he said, unzipping his coat.
“Go away,” Derrick said.
“Check out my lion shirt!”
“Go away. I’m not your friend.”
“Yes you are,” a confused-sounding Collin responded, even though Derrick had already left.
My heart broke for him, partly because he didn’t realize what had transpired. How could someone not like Collin? He’s bright and warm and entertaining. Sure he can be a little loud and slightly bossy, but why did this boy deliberately try to hurt my baby’s feelings?
“Unfortunately, that’s how the world is,” my mom explained when I brought it up to her. “We can’t protect them from everything. Their little hearts are going to break sometimes.”
I supposed she was right. I’m sure I break Collin’s heart when I take the iPad away or tell him it’s time to leave a birthday party. But, this is different. It’s an attack upon his sense of self-worth coming from another four-year-old.
“Maybe Derrick is just a mean kid or maybe he had a bad morning. Collin is always a sweet kid. Not all children are sweet,” my mom added.
Collin is extremely outgoing and loves to share and give out hugs. Derrick and some of the other preschool boys are more into play-fighting, and that’s just not Collin’s thing. They like the latest action figures; Collin likes cars. They dress like little adults; Collin still looks like a little kid. And that’s okay.
This morning when I dropped Collin off, Derrick made a comment I couldn’t hear about Collin’s snow monster shirt. I heard their teacher quickly shush Derrick. Collin ran back out to give his brothers and me a kiss. And I was happy for the sweet, innocent boy I have.
I’m still not sure to handle the Derrick situation. As long as Collin is unaware of what’s happening, I will keep quiet. I may alert the teachers, but don’t see the sense in contacting Derrick’s parents. When his feelings start to hurt, I will talk to Collin about how he’s wonderful just the way he is and that not everyone in the world will be his friend and that that’s okay. As he gets older, the conversation will change, but the sentiment will stay the same.
When asked what he’d say to those who doubted his success, Russian figure skater Yevgeny Plushenko said, “thank you.”
We can’t allow the haters we encounter triumph over our spirits. Jesus tells us to turn the other cheek. That’s exactly what we’ll do.
February 20, 2014 11:10
By Robyn Barberry
I do not have a science background. However, I do have a childish sense of wonder, one of the secrets of happiness
I explored last spring. It was that quizzical side of me that took over as I gazed out my kitchen window at the biggest snowflakes I had ever seen. I just had to get my hands on one. To touch it. To examine it up close. To have possession over something so fleeting, even just for a moment.
As I already mentioned, I’m not a scientist and overall find myself lacking in common sense. Still I remembered hearing when I was a child that you could use black construction paper and a magnifying glass to see the tiny crystals that make up each snowflake. I bolted to find the materials before the snowflakes disappeared.
“Black construction paper should be easy to find,” I thought. You can’t color on it, so there’s always plenty left over. I tore into my bin of school supplies, finding a number of items I’d been looking for (ahem, stapler), but no black construction paper.
As I turned around to look in the toy room for said paper, I passed Frank’s tiny black T-shirt. I decided it would work. I continued to the toy room to find Collin’s magnifying glass.
“What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled by my apparent hurry.
“I’m looking for your magnifying glass. I want to show you something cool,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said, returning to his silly putty.
After sifting through a pool of action figures and toy cars, I decided to use my magnifying light up mirror instead.
I unplugged the mirror, set it down on the washer, plugged it in, turned it on, and shuddered at the sight of my pores and wrinkles magnified 5x.
“Collin!” I called, thrusting open the back door. “Come here! I want to show you something.”
“Not right now,” he said.
“Aw, come on – it will only take a second.”
His feet shuffled past our wall of coats, hats, and boots. He seemed surprised to see the mirror on the washer.
“You wanna see a snowflake up close?” I asked him.
He pretended to be interested.
I threw on my sneakers and barreled through the back door, T-shirt in hand. I held the shirt like a cookie tray and waved it from left to right, filling the shirt with flakes from the size of a tic-tac to the size of a silver dollar. I noticed that when the biggest flakes hit they were actually clusters, which crumbled into specks that melted upon contact.
When I was satisfied with the number of flakes I’d gathered, I brought the shirt in for Collin to hold while I tilted the mirror. I’d expected to see crystals that looked like the snowflakes kids made by cutting paper. Instead I saw specks of white “lint” on a shirt growing wet and a bored, disappointed boy.
“I’m outta here,” Collin said, sounding more like a 14-year-old than a 4-year-old.
Defeated, I headed to the kitchen to clean up breakfast dishes while I admired the snowfall from afar. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Collin’s magnifying glass between the piano and the table in the dining room. I picked it up and turned to find sheet music just beyond the magnifying glass. It was for “Falling Slowly,” and about half of the cover was solid black. “It just might work,” I thought.
I rushed to the front door, telling Collin to join me just one more time. We stood in the foyer as I prepared a paper “cookie tray” and handed him the magnifying glass. Without taking a couple of seconds to put on a coat, I barged onto the front porch, pushing the sheet music out beyond the overhang.
I brought it back inside and quickly grabbed the magnifying glass from Collin. It was a little scratchy, but I could make out a couple of delicate crystals. “Look, Collin! Look at the crystals! Do you see them?” I asked, as I tried to point out the rapidly disintegrating fruit of my conquest.
“I’m outta here,” he said. But this time I didn’t feel defeated.
In my winter’s morning journey, I desperately wanted to possess something that I didn’t have the resources for. I wanted someone else to join me, but I couldn’t make him interested. When I finally did capture my desired prize, it didn’t last long.
Sound familiar? Life is like that. We’re on this quest and the prizes we seek are often so far out of our reach because we don’t have the right tools, or the right people, or enough time. But, maybe we’re not packing right.
If I had taken the time to research snowflake capture, I would have found this awesome experiment. Then, I could have purchased and gathered the necessary materials into a “snowflake catching kit,” ready for whenever the big flakes fall. If I was better planned or had asked him at a better time, maybe Collin would have been more interested. Or maybe I could have entertained Frank or Leo, instead.
As for time, snowflakes have a short life span. And so do we. So we should make use of it wisely. Even if that means you find yourself catching snowflakes.
February 06, 2014 03:25
By Robyn Barberry
I’d been to dozens of parent/teacher conferences over the
past eight years, but this one was different.
This time I was the parent.
Patrick and I nervously sat down in tiny primary colored
chairs at a table right out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. We were bombarded
from all sides with colorful posters advertising vowel sounds (long and short),
Spanish words for everyday things (prima/o means cousin), and class rules (never
let your voice get to Rock Star level!).
The lights were dimmed, except for the bright one from the reptile or
amphibian tank (I was too intimidated to look).
Across from us sat Collin’s teacher, Ms. Andrews, whose
mannerisms resemble the “Julie” of the same last name. She had a stack of papers all bearing
Collin’s name with a little smiley face after it.
“So do you have any concerns?” she asked.
He’d had a bad day at school the day before, blowing
raspberries when addressed and answering “No!” when directed or questioned. Ms.
Andrews had already spoken with me about it, chalking it up to “we all have our
days.” Still, I was concerned.
“His attitude!” I
exclaimed. “He’s bossy and he says the
meanest things to us, like ‘I don’t like your life,’ or ‘I’m never going to see
“Really?” she responded,
shocked. “That’s not like him. It was
really only yesterday that his behavior was off.”
“We just don’t want him being mean to his friends,” Patrick
“Collin? He gets
along with everyone. Especially the
girls. One of them was even drawing
pictures for him.”
“When we’ve seen him around other kids, he just seems so
“Not at all,” she said.
Then, Ms. Andrews began to share his school work with
us. Graphs, letter-writing practice,
self-portraits, and even a family portrait from September which showed a little
tiny Leo in my belly.
“He’s right on track,” Ms. Andrews said, handing us a
checklist for Kindergarten readiness.
Only one question remained: what could we do about sight
words, the only category in which he performed poorly on his report card.
“Don’t stress too much about sight words. They will work on them in kindergarten. But, if you want to keep exposing Collin to
them, there are games you can play, like spelling them out with food – there
are cheese crackers with letters on them.
Or you can write letters on water bottle tops, put them in a tub of water so they can float, and have him “catch”
them and spell words with the letters.”
She handed us an entire packet of sight word games, and
asked if we had any more questions. We
didn’t, but we chatted for a little while, exchanging funny Collin stories.
I left feeling much lighter. Though I’d already learned it
during my years on the other side of the conference table, I discovered that
Collin behaves much better at school than he does at home. I also got a peek at the life he has outside
of our family by hearing a narrative of his days between 9 and 1 while spending
some time in his home away from home.
Above all, I considered this conference to be a “check-up”
for me as a parent. I was relieved to be
assured I wasn’t a failure, but still found some ways I can improve. I hope to continue to keep in close
communication with Ms. Andrews and Collin’s future teachers so that we can act
as partners in shaping Collin into a kind and intelligent young man.
January 30, 2014 02:18
By Robyn Barberry
Silence is seldom a good thing when young children are playing. It usually means they’ve gotten into something they shouldn’t. So, when I stopped hearing Collin and Frank giggling, I went downstairs to investigate.
I found them surrounding a mat on the floor covered with colorful scribbles. Frank had given up since the mat was nearly full and began to draw on the floor. But, I did not fret, as they were merely playing with the AquaDoodle, and their skin and my floors were unscathed.
The AquaDoodle is a water-activated toy which includes a four-color mat and a marker-style pen. Santa brought it for Frank because he loves to track down crayons and color all over my walls. AquaDoodle allows Frank to go to town without being able to make a mess greater than the power of a rag or paper towel.
The set Frank got included a mini mat and one pen. The boys had trouble taking turns, so we ordered an additional accessory kit on Amazon.com, which included a sponge “brush,” a well for the “brush,” stencils, and an additional pen. Doubling this all important commodity has brought peace to AquaDoodle playtime.
The mess-free factor expands to include an easy cleanup. Simply roll up the mat and tuck the pen in the attached loop. It’s art made easy.
AquaDoodle also could be a tool for teaching Collin to write, and soon, do math.
The only problem is that once the mat is saturated, it takes some time (up to 30 minutes) for it to return to a clean slate. That means finding another activity in the interim or rolling it up and calling it a day. At least it’s time well spent.
AquaDoodle is available at Amazon.com and most big box or toy stores. It retails for about $25, with the accessory kit costing an additional $10.
January 21, 2014 11:18
By Robyn Barberry
A passing score on the Maryland portion of my real estate exam would mean a better life for my family. I’d quit teaching in December because I wanted a lifestyle that would offer me more time to be with my children. As a real estate agent, I could schedule my appointments around my boys so that I could be present for school events, take care of them when they are sick, and spend more time playing trucks. I’d also be able to write more. But, first I had to pass the test. And I’d already failed once before.
My parking lot prayers were for the life I dreamed of, but I still couldn’t shake my nerves. As I entered the testing center, I glanced at the door between the two proctors desks and gulped. “You can come on over,” a friendly voice called from the far desk. There I met a warm, welcoming African American young woman wearing sunny, bright colors. I spotted an open Bible on her desk.
“What book are you reading?” I asked her, as she registered me for my test.
She stopped, picked it up and showed me the cover, “The Bible,” she said, going back to her work.
“No, which book, chapter, verse?” I asked.
,” she said, handing me my scrap paper.
“What’s it about?” I asked.
She read it to me, emphasizing shines, joy, and righteous.
“Basically, it means that our God is a righteous god, greater than any other god in the world. And He will provide for those who love Him. If you believe, then you will pass this test. I know you will. And I’ll be praying for you.”
I entered the dark room behind the ominous door. As I sat down before the computer, I said one last prayer and began. I’d studied for two months and had never seen some of the information demanded of me. Halfway through I was sure I’d fail. But I remembered that my friendly proctor was praying for me. And that she told me to believe.
After reviewing my questions and reassuring the computer that I was finished, a red box appeared on the screen. I assumed the worst – red means fail. But after I read the screen a second time, I saw the word pass. I wanted to jump up and down, but I didn’t think that would be fair to the other test takers. So, I saved my celebration for the proctor.
“I passed!” I whisper-shouted to her, signing over my unused scrap paper. I jumped right back up. “Thanks for your prayers. God bless you!” I continued, heading for the door.
“Wait! Come back!” she told me. “I have to give you your paperwork.”
“Duh,” I said. “Don’t mind me, I’m excited.”
She handed me the materials I needed to apply for my real estate license.
“Here’s something else for you,” she said, handing me two post-it notes. On them, she had written a list of Bible verses and a few notes of encouragement.
I smiled the whole way home. Not just because I’d finally passed the test that was going to change my life for the better, but because I was so touched that in this day of ever-increasing prohibition of faith, someone I’d never met before prayed specifically for me.
That proctor’s gift was greater than she knew. I looked up all of the verses and found them to be just the encouragement I needed as someone with crippling anxiety; as someone who doesn’t always feel deserving of God’s gifts; as someone who wonders if her life will matter.
She told me to read the verses every day, and busy as I may be, I will certainly try to do so. If you’d like to experience them yourself, here they are:
January 13, 2014 05:10
By Robyn Barberry
Normally, my family walks the two straight blocks it takes to get to Mass, but with an icy street and frigid temperatures, Patrick decided we should drive. Loading the kids into their respective car seats takes at least five minutes (longer than our actual walk), so by the time everyone was loaded up into my SUV, we were running late.
Of course, the windshield was also covered in ice, so Patrick had to go back outside to chop through the extra layer on top of the glass using our trusty Baltimore Ravens scraper. For the sake of time, he only scraped off his half of the windshield. He could see in all directions through the portion he scraped, along with the clear rear and side windows. My side of the windshield was a blur of color.
It made me nervous. I wanted to know what was out there, even though I knew that at this point it might be a car or two, traveling at maybe ten miles an hour. Possibly one or two people crossing the street. A squirrel or two. Every few feet, I’d check the side window to see what we had passed.
But what if a car came flying towards us because its driver was texting or a child chased a ball into the street (though no sane parent would allow their child to play outside on a day like this)? It was a pretty dramatic prospect for such a short drive, but if something like that happened, I wanted to know beforehand. I wanted to see it coming.
A light began to flash to my right, just about where I expected our parish to be based on the brown blob spreading across my windshield. It looked as though a beacon had been mounted on the side of the building.
“What’s that light?” I asked Patrick.
“A salt truck,” he said.
As we passed the side street next to our church, I saw the salt truck outside of my window, hulking beside a little car, hogging up the road, waiting for us to pass so that it could spread some salt and keep us safe.
Patrick pulled right into a spot up front (I always think of those as God’s little rewards for us) and we unloaded the kids, shuffling tiny steps into a Mass that had begun without us. On a day like that, all that mattered was that we arrived safely.
During Mass, I reflected upon my experience being a passenger unable to see.
I realized that just like the song, “Jesus Take the Wheel,” there are times when we cannot be in the driver’s seat, literally and figuratively. We should not only accept, but embrace this fact.
Patrick, being a lifelong farmer, is a lot more experienced at driving in adverse conditions than I am. About ten years ago, I hit a patch of black ice and ran into a tree. I get overwhelmed in similar road conditions. Even though my vehicle has 4-wheel drive, I still panic when I start to skid and usually end up slamming, rather than pumping the brakes, like Patrick taught me. Patrick’s instincts are to stay calm and apply the appropriate driving strategy (even if it means only clearing off enough windshield for him to see, leaving me in the dark). But, I trust him with my life, every day, but especially when he’s in the driver’s seat.
Whether we’re unsure of our ability to drive, or even if we’re distressed about something, it’s better to have someone else take the wheel and get us there safe.
This is difficult for most people, myself included, to accept at one time or another (or all the time). We want to know what to expect by taking in the horizon. We get frustrated when the windshield isn’t clear on our side. It’s our car, isn’t it? Why can’t we drive?
Our life is our vehicle. And we can’t drive because God gets the clear half of the windshield. Though our side is blurry, we can still make out the shape of some of the sights ahead, like how I recognized my church through my occluded view -on the literal end, or how as a young girl I saw myself being a writer and having a husband and children someday -on the figurative end. When we stop dwelling on details and focus on the light, as I did with the salt truck and I do with Jesus Christ, we can be saved.
And so, we should trust God to determine the route our life will take. God will steer us clear of obstacles if we listen to His word and obey His orders. We must remain beside him, no matter what happens during the ride. If we do these things, our journey will continue in heaven.
January 10, 2014 02:08
By Robyn Barberry
A few days after playing "Nurse Mom
," I found myself on the other end of the spectrum. I woke up with an ailing tummy around 4 a.m. On New Year's Eve. When I failed to improve by mid-morning, Patrick wisely whisked Frank and Leo off to his parent's house. (Collin was still showing some signs of illness, so he stayed with us). I didn't even get to see them before they left, but I knew it was for the best.
Though my distressed stomach kept me busy for most of the day, it was strange not to feed or change anyone. Collin and I stayed in my bed and watched travel shows, especially enjoying one about a hot air balloon festival in New Jersey. Every few hours, he would ask in the sweetest voice, "Are you feeling better, Mommy?"
My wonderful husband saw to it that the household stayed in running order and even ran out to buy me fountain soda - my go-to beverage when my tummy aches. He checked on me constantly and saw to my every need, from medication to finding the remote.
Even when the TV was on, I tuned it out and prayed a lot, asking that Frank and Leo, being so young and frail, be protected from the flu and other serious illnesses. I also reflected on the passing year, particularly on how grateful I am for the gifts of a reconstructed home, a new decade in my life, a new baby, a new career, and, above all, my family's health and happiness.
Being sick is sometimes just God's way to slow us down. We are demanded to rest and in that time, given the opportunity to avoid daily minutiae so that we think deeply about what really matters to us. In my case, it's family.
It made me sad not to be able to kiss my two little ones at midnight, but I was glad that I was starting to feel better on New Year's Day and that a wealth of opportunity was waiting for us in 2014.
Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy, blessed new year!
January 09, 2014 03:54
By Robyn Barberry
According to statisticbrain.com
, losing weight is the number one New Year’s resolution, with 38 percent of all resolutions being based on shedding pounds. It’s a tremendous challenge in the dead of winter, when most of us are confined to our homes in hibernation mode, which means eating lots of comfort (a.k.a. bad-for-you) food. If you’re up to the health and fitness challenge, however, there is a wonderful app that can help make cinching up a, well, you know.
One of the most recommended strategies for losing weight is keeping a food journal. MyFitnessPal offers a high tech version of the essential tool and more.
When you download the app onto your phone or tablet, you can set your demographics, such as gender, age, and weight. You can choose what you’d like to weigh and at what rate (1 lb a week, 1 ½ lb a week, etc.) you’d like to lose the extra pounds.
Every day, you enter EVERYTHING (every bite, every morsel, every drop) that you eat and drink. (READ: If you want it to help you, don’t cheat!) Most foods are searchable (either by scanning their UPC code or typing in the name of the food) and once identified, the nutritional information appears. If the food does not exist in MyFitnessPal’s database, you can enter it.
Based on your weight loss goals, you will be assigned an appropriate number of calories to consume each day. At first, it will seem impossible to eat that “little,” but as you continue to eat healthier, choosing denser, whole foods, you’ll be amazed by how much you can eat.
You also enter your cardiovascular and strength training exercises. Calories will come off for walking, running, etc. You then have more calories available to fuel your workout and/or recovery.
After you’ve accounted for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks, you can total up your day and discover what you’d weigh if every day were like that one. You’ll have days when you eat and work out like a champ, and you’ll have those weak chocolate cake days that are discouraging. The point is to learn from your mistakes and keep moving forward toward your goal.
With each weigh-in (you document it by entering it into MyFitnessPal – I recommend once a week), you should see progress. If not, figure out what you should do to accelerate your weight loss. If you’re honest in entering your foods, you can get a breakdown of categories (carbs, fats, and proteins), which might help you detect an area for improvement.
Patrick and I both use MyFitnessPal, not just as a weight loss tool, but as a way to monitor our health. With three little ones running (and laying) around, we cannot afford to get sick or not to have enough energy to keep up with them.
We use MyFitnessPal differently. I enter everything the second I eat it or complete an exercise, which can be pretty annoying in a restaurant or on a piece of gym equipment. Patrick enters everything at the end of the day. (I would forget!) Either way, it’s a tool that has proven most beneficial to us.
is a free app available on all operating systems. It will work for you if you work for it.
January 08, 2014 03:20
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By Robyn Barberry