cha cha cha chia.

Well, the water is awful murky over here at my pad.

The weather.

Our Moods.

Spring can NOT get here soon enough.

E needs a hair cut. He looks a little like a reject from the cast of Annie. He refuses to fix it other than wet the middle front and use a glob of of hair gel to slick it down. The poor child has the thickest and hair and he dreams of having the new shaggy (yet cool) skater cuts everyone seems to have but he just starts looking more like a chia pet everyday.

Baby C had a rough night and you can see by his little eyes that he doesn't feel 100%


You can tell by my little eyes that sleep was not a success.

I think maybe he may be teething.

Eric may be getting his period.

Cause he is TERRIBLY bitchy.

I am not sure because I didn't really listen but it was something about how he didn't like to be told to shut-up and something about a farm-hand? I couldn't really hear over all my yelling and I was very sleepy so the details are a little foggy.

So to reiterate.

E needs pro-cuts

Baby C needs Orajel.

Eric needs Mydol.

I need a nap.

I probably could use the mydol too.

Eric might also need an icepack for the knot.

This Butts for you.

I am sitting at my desk sleepily grazing through google reader when the phone rings.

"*Bobo's insurance company, how can I help you?"

Client: "I need to blah blah blah. And Could you hootie hootie blah blah"

I am kinda zoning back into google at this point. Sorry but we all do it occasionally and my boss walks by and asks:

"Is that Jim Beam?"

I silently mouthed yes and nodded my head.

"Will you ask him if he found my butt plate?"



Blink



"Mr. Beam, could you please hold on a second?"

"Ummm", I stammered. "Would you like to talk to him?"

"No. Just ask him."

"I, uh, Mr. Bobo..

Damn! He went into his office and shut the door.

I take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

"Mr Beam?"

"Yes?"

"Did you uh, happen to uh,"

Another deep breath

"Did you find Mr. Bobo's **butt plate"?

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to bring that when I brought the gun", he chuckled.

"Tell him don't worry that I will bring it".

"OK, Well is there anything else I could do for you today?"

"No mam, thank you for your time"

So I get up and go to his office to deliver the message.

I also now know what a butt plate is.

It's not near as embarrassing as it sounds but it is still very awkward to ask a client.

*Also all the names have been changed to protect the innocent AND for my amusement. Wouldn't it be funny to have a boss named Mr. Bobo? Almost as funny as the word butt plate.

**Google it.

Monday's musings.

We need to talk. It's not me its YOU.

Well. That's not entirely true.

I guess we have both changed. Me. I know I have gotten a little sloppy. I know that I don't pay as much attention to detail anymore. But really? Do you? You expect me to be the one to always be creative and spontaneous?

What about motivation?

I remember when I couldn't wait to get to you. I felt needed and wanted.

I need to be challenged. I need to know it is not ok to ignore my responsibilities. Hell I NEED responsibilities.

Others want me.

I know.

They have told me so.

I am just not happy anymore.

I need a new Job.

My hard earned photos

First Photo. I wish I was looking at this from my couch in front of the fire, with a cup of hot cider.









My dog freezing her NUTZ off.

IITZ SNOWEEEEEEEENG

Our sleepy little town is covered in a light blanket of snow. I am stuck at work looking out side wishing I could build an erotic snowman. My snowman would have huge pecks and be hung like a horse.

I wanted to send pictorial evidence of the snow, but you see, I am sorta lazy in the mornings and not a picture taker. Eric is the photo journalist of the family and he is on vacation this week, and every morning looks like a hungover college student.

Is he staying up at night partying like a rock star? Why no. He DOES however, have the best farm operation in facebook land and a quite impressive mafia.

I did finally get him to snap a picture but when he emailed it to me I was quite a taken back.

I was not up to his usual photogenic snuff.

It was rather grainy and looked as if someone licked the camera lens before snapping the picture.

I did request a new photo and I am patiently waiting.

He will probably make me preform so sort of sexual act for the photo, so if I am walking funny tomorrow I blame YOU.

Memories

I lifted the chest and pulled out E's baby book. I flipped through the half written-half empty pages; reliving his precious first year...er six months that I wrote in the book.

Oh look he rolled over at four months.

His favorite book was "Itsy Bitsy Spider".

First foods

First smiles

My first born.

I then glance over guiltily at the fresh unmarked pages of Conner's book and sigh. I am already behind. As I pulled the book out and looked through the pages, I realized that time is flying and memories are not quite as sharp as the day I brought him home.

Newborn outfits don't quite look like the ever would have fit on his pudgy little body.

Last night as I was giving him a bath, his little hands were grabbing everything they could.

The soap bottle.

The sprayer nozzle on the sink.

Wash rag.

He splashes.

He laughs.

He is growing at an alarming rate.

How is it possible to record everything and preserve every memory for the next decade of his life.

4 months, 4 and a HALF MONTHS, ALMOST FIVE MONTHS????

It couldn't be.

Last night my eldest played his guitar for me while we sang songs.

He runs.

Talks.

ASKS GIRLS OUT.

Rides his bike down the street with his friends.

9 years, 9 and three QUARTER years, SOON WILL BE 10 YEARS.

So I write.

Furiously.

Trying to preserve every memory for them.

I am so blessed.

I get to be their mom. I get the bumble my way through awkward conversations, late dinners, household chores. Teaching them how to love and laugh. Struggling the thin line of holding them close and teaching them to fly.

Playing army in the dirt in the sand pile (hopefully it won't be filled with cat poop like last time). Riding bikes. Baseball. T-ball. Camp-outs. Match-box cars. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

This life is good.

This life is mine.

Why?

Is it just me, or does fondant suck?

It makes beautiful cakes.

It tastes just AWFUL.

Maybe it's just me, but I would have a great tasting cake that was not as perfect looking; not a beautiful cake that I couldn't eat.

I will stick to butter cream.

Thanks.

But wait! There's More!!

Don't know why but I love this guy!




LOOK. AT. THAT.





Yummm. No need to explain.

Yeah, and then there is the whole awesome story line thing too.

Get LOST baby!!

So who's getting Lost tonight?

I am so excited.

We are going to have a small family shin-dig; complete with tacos, queso dip. We have been waiting for this day for months and I hope we are not disappointed.

Ethan begged off basketball practice and I agreed. I mean, I would have to pause it to go get him and I just feel like that would ruin my whole Lost watching experience. His jump shot is just not THAT important yet.

Monday's

Highlights: Got to work on time. Strong coffee. Good hair day.

Low lights: My boss said "Stinky Pinkie"(I died a little inside).

Other than that....

I had a pretty good weekend.

E is killing this basketball season with an undefeated record thus far. He has nailed a couple of fantastic shots that I am guessing are luck, but impressive none the less. I was afraid that he wouldn't follow through with the whole season especially after the rigorous 2 hour practices and suicides that his coach has them do, but he is always excited about it.

The thought of having to do even one suicide makes me want to puke in my 8Th grade gym shoes. I tried Athletics and I was half-way decent at volley-ball, but all I ever got out of basketball was a busted nose and two jammed fingers. One of those jammed fingers was when I was playing with myself.

I just reread that and I didn't mean PLAYING with myself. I was playing BASKETBALL with myself.

This post has turned out quite differently than I planned.

I don't even know where to go from here than to say my mom got married last week. Today is her one week anniversary to be exact. I haven't talked about it much because I was hoping it was a problem that would go away on its own and I am not usually one to pay attention to those kind of problems. Sadly the problem did NOT go away; instead it decided to become my step-father.

I don't KNOW that this is a bad thing. I am grown at least and have my own home where I can escape the insanity. 3 months. That is the time it took for an Internet relationship to blossom into a marriage. A marriage where my mother is the only one with an income. Where she had to purchase her own wedding ring (and his) and get up and go to work the next morning instead of a honeymoon. It could turn out to be something great for her, but right now, she deserved better than what she got.

I guess sometimes you gotta let go and let them grow up...