Sick. Again.

It's been awhile since Ry was in daycare, or preschool for that matter. Years ago, I was used to warding off new germs she'd bring home, and although it sucked when she was a baby and always sick, I clung to the doctor's assurances that her being sick as a baby would mean she wouldn't be getting sick as much when she started school. True, true.

I forgot about Jax. No daycare, but he plays an awful lot in the nursery at church and at the gym, and he does have 2 days of pre-school a week. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that now he and I are sick almost every other week.

He was suffering from a terrible cough and cold earlier last week, and sure enough, come Friday evening, I was suffering the same fate. There are just some things that washing hands can't prevent. Like when Jax sneezes in my mouth "accidentally", or the fact that when he's sick all he wants to do is climb up on me and have me smother him with kisses. Being the loving, nurturing soul that I am, I'm happy to oblige. Until I get sick, and then it's "Get away from me you little monster, mommy needs ALONE TIME!"

I missed going to Shah's wedding-shower-slumber-party, which I was so looking forward to. (Believe it or not, I don't get invited to that many slumber parties these days.)

Ryan was ecstatic, of course, seeing as how she'd begun laying on the guilt early Saturday morning, crying violently everytime I mentioned leaving, and apparently Shawn was thrilled to have me home as well: He took the kids out for dinner so I could sleep, slept with Jax so I could sleep, took them to church so I could sleep, and even made me some Chamomile tea.

All things considered, it was a decent weekend, but one that was completely governed by germs, cough and phlegm. Thank you sir, I've had enough.

I was prepared to regale you all with hilarious tidbits from my Girls' Weekend, but seeing as how I wasn't there, I'll just leave you with some funny, if old, video.

This is their version of a "Camp Rock" singalong from earlier this summer. If only Disney knew what they're missing...

Wurstfest 2008

And this is just the g-rated fun we had. Too bad you'll never see the clip of me swinging my arms and yelling/singing, "I LOVE TO POLKA!" I'm saving that for a special night with my special man, if ya know what I mean (and I think ya do).

Gray skies are gonna clear up...

Rain drops keep fallin' on her head...

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I am not always the most prepared mother. More often than not, I'm the mom scrambling to find the last 2 socks, matching or otherwise, on the way out the door. I'm the one who frantically signs permission slips with a crayon, on the way out the door. The one who, on the way out the door, has to go back 3-5 times to grab forgotten keys, glasses, money, brains...

So when the downpour started this morning just in time for school drop-off, I was sitting a little straighter in the car, knowing that even though I hadn't bought Ryan a raincoat since she was 4, I was still prepared with my ever-ready car umbrella.

The one I forgot was broken and doesn't open all the way.

So you can imagine the look of death Ryan threw my way as she crouched under the half-opened, jimmy-rigged umbrella, tilting her head to the side to avoid the eyeball hazard jutting out in front of her. As a 5th grade safety patrol kid looked on.

Therein lies the problem. Not that the umbrella is a piece of crap that offers her limited protection, but that she was seen holding it by someone other than an immediate family member.

At least, that's what I'm assuming the eye-rolling,hair-flipping silent response to my "Love you!" meant. Unless it meant, "Woman, you are the worst mother ever. Get off your dead ass and spring for a raincoat, or at least an umbrella that opens all the way." Yeah. That could be it.

The Dark Side

While this title instantly gets me humming that awesome Eddie and the Cruisers tune (anyone?anyone?), I'm using it in it's more widely known context, ie: Darth Vader and all his little white robot people, or whatever they're called.

The point is, last night I woke in a sweat, fumbling for my glasses to see if, in fact, I'd woken up next to Darth Vader or possibly James Earl Jones. Surely that unmistakeable breathing belonged to one or the other.

But, no. It was Jax, stuffy-nosed and still sucking on his binky, his little ribs expanding with gusto every time he sucked in air, allowing no one within a 10 ft radius any peace.

Walking him back to his room, I tried to get him to give up the binky in favor of breathing, but he was having none of it. "I need it to sleep, Mom!" he protested.

"Yes, but you can't breathe, dude. If you aren't breathing, then you're not sleeping. You're dead."

You'd think the Dark Lord, of all people, would know that.

Fight Club

There's something to be said for testosterone. While at our "Family Practitioner" last week, seeking relief from the red, swollen, pocked and puss-filled tonsils attacking my throat, I came across James Dobson's Bringing Up Boys. Looking for anything to take my mind off the fact that my kids were clawing onto the end of their "good" rope, having already been waiting an hour nd all, I skimmed through the first few chapters with feigned interest.

Until I saw the part where he confirmed what I've always known -- boys are born brain-damaged. Yes, that valuable T-hormone they're so fond of having, that Y chromosome that brings so many new dads to tears, actually washes over the male fetus and damages their walnut-sized brain.

I think we can all agree that this explains so much.

Like how last week, as Shawn was getting out of his truck and witnessed Jax being pushed by a neighbor boy, he immediately yelled "Hit him back!!" As if on cue, Jax lifted the older boy off the ground and slammed him back down to Earth with gusto. Stifling a victorious yell, Shawn quickly went to "assess" the situation, where Jax was excitedly awaiting him with a request for "High Five, Dad!"

One brain-damaged penis being raised by another brain-damaged penis. Peace and harmony never stood a chance.

Sick Sick Sick

Ry has strep, and has been home going on 3 days now. The first day was fun -- a fresh breeze, my sweet little complacent sick child limply lying on the couch, wimpering with delight everytime we fawned over her, which with Shawn home all day was every 10 minutes. Did I mention Jax was at his grandmother's? Yes, life was clm and still and peaceful.

Yesterday Jax was home, but only for a bit before he was carted off to preschool, where he completed the most elaborate yarn-stretching loom thingy and had no accidents! Even his return to the house was uneventful, aided by the Happy Meals I purchased prior to picking him up. What's a little childhood obesity for the sake of sanity?

But today? God, help me, tody they're BOTH here, ALL DAY LONG, with no reprieve in sight. Well, that's not true -- tomorrow should be back to normal, but it's much more fun the melodramatic way. Either way, they've been at each other since daybreak, and I can see no further than this computer screen, I've blocked everything else out. Tht's how it works when they get this way -- I tune out and rock myself in a corner, and they turn everything upside down.

I suppose I could suck it up and be more hands-on, more involved, but I've been doing that for over 6 years now, and I'm getting tired. How home-schooling moms do this 24 hours a day, I'll never know, but if I don't get out and get some me-time pretty soon, someone may need to come check my pulse. I haven't exercised, shopped, or watched any R-rated movies in the past 3 days, and that's just 3 days too long.

Now, who's the sick one?

Kisses, rings, and other things...

The love appears to be everywhere my kids go these days, except at home. Home is where the love goes to die. Okay, maybe not "dead", but definitely in hospice care. Roll your eyes if you must, but when you consistently find yourself brought down to the same level as your little ones, yelling and screaming at them to stop yelling and screaming, defeated as kicks and blows abound, love is not the word that comes to mind. Adoption, yes, but not so much love.

I know they've got the love in there, though. Jax's preschool techer told me just the other day that he hugged a little girl in his class, wrestled her to the ground and laid a big fat smooch on her. Shawn can't stop beaming with pride. I guess he sees it as the first step in Jax's "slaying of the ho's". I see it as the first step on the road to being a sexual predator, and in an effort to curb the whole forcing-them-down-to-the-ground for a little lip-locking action (also known as ASSAULT in some circles), I tried desperately to help him understand that kissing isn't for everyone.

"We keep our kisses for our family, Jax," I said. "Mommy gets kisses, Daddy, Ryan, Menana, Big Daddy...everyone in the family is okay to kiss, but that's it."

"And the girls," he retorted.

"No Jax, only kiss family."

"And the girls."

"No, baby. Just family."

"And the girls, too."

"Why Jax? Why do you want to kiss the girls?"

"I LIKE IT!! It's FUN!!"

I'm thinking it's not so much the actual kiss that's the fun part. My gut says it's the wrestling them to the ground that he enjoys.


Then there's Ryan, who received a ring from her off/on boyfriend-buddy this week. Dude spent 260 Chuck E Cheese tix on the thing. That's a lot of skee-ball, people. It's a stamp ring, and he gave it to her at school yesterday.

"What did he say, Ry?" I asked when she told me.

"Well, we were in the hall with our classes, so he couldn't really talk, but he threw it to me and said "It has a stamp!"

"And what was your fair reply?"

"I said, 'Cool! Thanks!' And then I asked if he had one in rainbow colors, instead."

Score one for Amy. Shawn may have Jax, but I knew my girl wouldn't let me down.




As for the "other things", Ike is upon us, as we no doubt are all aware, and many of our friends and family are sitting ducks, or were. Some have evacuted, some are holding steady. We're praying for all of them, and hope they don't receive too much damage. (The kids are more worried about what will happen to their favorite Rainforest Cafe on the Sea Wall in Galveston, but that doesn't mean they don't love you guys, too. Really.)

"Mom, come see this!"

Four little words.Evoking so much emotion. Is it something good? Something bad? Something red and permnent and all over my walls?

Lately, it's been Jaxson calling me to have a look at the tater-turd he dropped in the toilet, completely oblivious to the fact that he's also managed to pee all over the bathroom floor.

This is the sight that greeted me twice today, when after hearing his beck and call, I slowly and grudgingly made my way to his locale, hazard mask, tongs, and industrial-strength cleaner already in hand.

But neither of those moments today compare to the 3rd moment I experienced with Jax -- the moment at gymnstics where he didn't make it in time, and puddled all over the bathroom floor, his clothes, and I think I even saw some in his ear. Except this time I was not prepared. At all. No change of clothes, no diapers, just some useless wet wipes and a copy of "The Other Boleyn Girl".

No way was I fashioning that into a diaper.

So, we wiped him down, pulled up his pants and walked out, pee-pee stained and all, heads held high, brazenly meeting the eyes of all the other moms and dads undoubtedly sitting in judgement, and we left.

And 5 minutes later we sent Ryan back to tell his coach that Jax hadn't run way or been kidknapped, but that his mother had snuck away with him in shame. According to Ry, he completely understood.

My Mastercard Commercial

Kitchen faucet and stop angle replacement: $400

Rebuilding toilet and pipes: $200

Replace dishwasher: $500

Replace washing machine: $600

Repair broken water softener:$300

Servicing said Water Softener before it busts and ruins your plumbing?: PRICELESS (Actually, it would have cost $120, but still, that's nothing compared to the cool 2g's we're about to unload.)

Pribacy, Please!

Jax's vocab is delightfully refreshing these days. When he's not screaming, projectile vomitting, or calling me "Stupid Mommy", that is.

We successfully completed potty training last week -- yay us!-- but now every time he goes, he yells,"Shut the door, I need my PRIBACY!!" Of course, he followed that up by running out of the bathroom, little member just a-swingin', shaking his bottom and singing, "My booty!My booty!"

Then there's the way he pronounces "Home Depot". You might not think that phrase would come around all that often, but we're talking about Jax. He owns the Home Depot 20 car, but to him its "Dome Pee-po". As in, "Mommy! That car next to us is Jimmie Johnson and we're Dome Pee-po. Go go go!!!"

Or the way he says "Holy Moly". Sounds a lot like "Homie Lowly". And I won't be correcting him anytime soon.

Sleeping with the Enemy

I have something to confess. I've been sleeping with another man, and Shawn knows all about it.


He's a short, stocky sort, prone to fits of rage followed by smothering hugs and kisses.


My baby.


I admit it, I lay down with him and "sleep" him to sleep. I know I'm prolonging the inevitable, but I don't care. A stitch in time saves nine, and all that. What's 15 minutes of extra Mommy time lost if it means not constantly having to walk him back to his room every 15 minutes for the next two hours?

Not to mention, what warm-blooded, uterus-carrying woman wouldn't indulge in extra snuggle time with her special little guy? The way he covers my face with his hand, or tells me to stop singing when I try to soothe him with a lullaby... You can't find that kind of quality pillow time just anywhere.

Except, in my case, if you were to walk down the hall and jump into bed with his dad. I can't tell you the number of times I've woken up with Shawn's hand on my face. Actually, not so much his hand, as the pillow he's holding in it.

I guess it's more my breathing he minds than my singing. Either way, I'm a lucky, lucky girl.

Finally, First Grade!

Well well. First day of school started without a hitch -- Ry was up early, bright & shiny, chatting away as I desperately tried to figure out a way to get her to hurry up without actually rushing her and stressing her out. I'm gonna save that for the second day of school.

She helped me with her lunch, then packed her toothbrush, hairbrush, and new barrettes, and we went next door so she and Emma could "get ready" together. They've been talking about it for weeks, and bless her heart, I know it must be 100 times more exciting for Ry than for Emma, but they had a great time, all smiles, and as they were pulling out of Elisa's drive, Ryan was brimming with joy.

Probably because she didn't have to have her MOM take her to school (so embarrassing). She specifically requested last night that we no longer walk her in the doors, not that we did that very much last year, but for the first day...well, no longer. She is officially "BIG", and that has left me in tears.

I've been waiting for this day so things could calm down a bit, and even though I detest neediness, I kind of wish she wanted me a little more, even when other more attractive options are present. But you reap what you sow, and so I will just be pleased that at least now I don't have to break up 600 fights today, that I can actully hold Jax without fear that she'll want to be picked up as well, and that the volume at home will be under airport decimal range.

If I could only get Jax to stop begging me to put his diaper back on, I'd be one step closer to solving World Peace. All in good time....

B2S

Thank the sweet Lord. 2 1/2 months of being constantly outnumbered? Not as much of a vacation as you'd think.

We've met Ry's teacher, found out her buddy from gym is in her class, and once she's settled, Jax's diaper is coming off until he does his deeds in the potty. (Can't go to Kids Day Out until he's potty trained!!)

Other than all that, I completely let myself go in August, and will also be excited to get back to my routine. Not that it'll help, but at least I'll feel productive again.


A couple of pics from the summer....

Here's a 4th of July pic I've been meaning to post -- it's exciting to us because Shawn's in it!! Last time for a while...



They had so much fun in that parade, as did I, my mom and Ninny on the sidelines. Any chance we get to be catty and critical of other people's ridiculous floats is a good time for us! Unfortunately, I cannot upload the video, so you won't be able to hear the snarky comments we made as "Miss World America" rode by on the back of her '89 Trans Am, portable radio playing her theme song, as she tried to hide the fact that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS "MISS WORLD AMERICA".


One of my favorite sights of the summer...Jax and Menana asleep on the deck.


And finally, some of my favorite photo subjects...My Boys...







Don't worry about Ry -- she's received plenty of photog attention from me, too...just check out her new webpage. God help us.

Back again

Short hiatus, I apologize. Lice will do that to you, though. Blood-and-soul sucking little assholes.

This is what I've been doing the past two weeks:





Laundry, lots of laundry. And vacuuming. And nit-picking. Lord, the nit-picking.

I have to say, I was a little surprised at the pure exhaustiveness of it all. Not to mention, the tenacity of the buggers. They're apparently everywhere, have completely grown immune to pesticides of all strength, and the best you can do is wash, dry, vacuum and pry. And pick. Let's not forget the picking.

All I remember about lice as a kid was that one time some girl got it so bad they shaved her hair off, and so I shaved Jax's head (just to be over and done with him), and Ryan's hair was looking a little scraggly, so I bobbed it, too!

Thank God for the stimulus checks -- we spent 1/3 of ours on carpet and upholstery cleaning (things were looking scraggly here, too). One time when it was a blessing to have a last name beginning with Y. If we were the Babitts, that check would have been gone 2 months ago.

But now they're gone, until the next kid brings them home, and I'm back!

Measuring Time with Ryan

Me: You guys have quiet time in your rooms for one hour.

Ryan: How many SpongeBob's is that?

Me: Four.

Ryan: Oh man...

Fun for Young and Old

I'm not sure the video will even be viewable. My computer can't play any videos, audio, or any other media file, so my hopes are not very high for its uploadability.

Let me know if it works!

Number 7

This morning as Shawn and I were trying to grasp a few extra minutes of alone time, we heard Jax scream, stomp up the stairs, and scream again.

"Whose I idea was Jax?" I mumbled.

Then, as if in answer, we heard Ryan scream, chasing Jax down the stairs.

"I don't know," Shawn said,"but I think we know who made him that way."

Does the 7- year-itch apply to your children as well?

Happy Anniversary, Baby!!

Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler!!!

Mother of God, Shah is getting married. Going about it in the only way fitting -- friends with the guy, start dating one month ago, and now they're planning on a January wedding. This is just one of the thousands of reasons I love her, as is her queer ability to find similarities in completely opposite items of clothing. She's famously quoted as saying, "I have a shirt just like that, except it's long-sleeved and has stripes instead of polka dots and is open in the back." And in the very next breath, she will give a painfully detailed matter-of-fact explanation as to why she can't eat green leafy items on Tuesdays, due to her shellfish and strawberry allergies. Or something to that effect.


So even though I've never met, spoken with, or even seen a picture of this "John", I'm more than certain that he must be FIERCE if he was able to snag that crazy coonass.




Let's pass a time, bebe!

Fool's Gold

I'm not sure which is funnier -- Jax dancing to Dave Matthews Band "Listener Supported" like a mini bongo-wielding McConaughey, or Ryan replying "Thank you!" to Dave's "Y'all smell good this evening" comment to the crowd.

Basically, Shawn's been working the last two nights and we're clearly going into withdrawl.

Checking In

From the 4th of July to a week alone with Jax, my days have been full and I haven't been able to get on to tell you all the wonderful stories that you've been missing. Plus, my horoscope for the month says I need to chill and just relax, so who am I to argue with the Zodiac???

Anyway, the 4th was spent at the lake where we outdid ourselves decorating the golf cart for this year's parade, which the kids thoroughly enjoyed being a part of, but even better than that -- Shawn was there!! This is the first time in I-don't-know-how-many years that he's been able to take off for the 4th, so the celebration was as much in honor of his independence as the US of A's.

I've got to get ready for my annual check-up now, or else I'd write about all the excitement we had surrounding fireworks and the 5th of July. Patience, children. The story will come.

Anyway, Ryan stayed with my folks this week while she took tennis lessons from one of Menana's old students. Apparently she's become the social secretary of Horseshoe Bay, scheduling dinners and tea parties, hob-knobbing with the cream of the crop, and keeping everyone on their toes. She oversaw the hatching of 2 baby birds and became a vegetarian for a few hours (until she learned that chicken tenders were banned).

Jax and I have spent the week together playing, napping, baking, and cleaning up one mess after another. We're very ready to get our girl back, although I think she's more excited about seeing her friends than seeing us, especially after the conversation we had yesterday:

Ryan: Did you clean my room?

Me: Uh, NO.

Ryan: Is it still messy?

Me: Uh, YES.

Ryan: Do you think you could take care of that for me?

Me: Uh, NO.

Ryan: Am I gonna have to do it when I get home?

Me: Uh, YES.

Ryan: hmmpphh!

Good times, good times.

Anyway, we were supposed to be heading to Corpus this weekend, but Shawn's been working non-stop since the holiday and is feeling inder the weather so we're forgoing the beach to hang around the house and just be chill.

Wish us luck with that.

Trail's End

Yesterday my friend Jill and I took the kids to Trail's End Equestrian Center in Leander to feed the horses there. It's owned by our Psycho Spin Instructor Ben and his wife Kerri, and we've been talking about going for months now, but as is usually the case, one thing or another always comes up -- until now!



Their ranch is amazing -- set deep in a canyon in the hill country, just 20 minutes from our house, the view is spectactular, the horses were gorgeous, and my resolve to live on some real expanse of land and own a horse was definitely reinforced.



They use the Parelli method of training the horses and use no saddles, reins, or anything. You can totally tell how calm and gentle they are with the horses, especially as Jax was spinning and running and yelling and jumping, even grabbing a tail or two, and not one kick or whinny did he receive. Those horses could teach Ryan a thing or two about ignoring her brother...


Here's Crazy Ben, who though surely mentally imbalanced when it comes to spinning, is actually quite tame and normal when his horses are around.


This is him playing and doing tricks with two of the horses -- they climb stairs, play with exercise balls, run figure eights -- all without him touching or talking to them. He just uses his body to signal what he wants them to and they DO IT! (**Note to self: must find Parelli training method for children...)



The kids were so excited, and had such a good time, that it took massive effort on our parts to get them back in the cars, but seeing as how Crazy Ben was about to start building the foundation for a hay barn, we thought it best to get out of the way before he put us to work. You never know with that one.


And this? Well this is just a pic of Ryan Bingham from his show a couple of weeks ago. Just thought you might like to see it. You can thank me later.

Teaching what matters

Yesterday, in a valiant effort to fight boredom, Ryan decided to set up a stand to sell her stuffed animals. She made a sign that read like this:

Anamul stor

ownd by
Ryan York

I helped her drag out a table, and off she went, lugging 8 stuffed animals behind her, into the ridiculously hot 3 pm Texas afternoon.

Five minutes later, she walked back in the house carrying her animals, lower lip dragging on the floor.

"What happened?" I asked.

"No one came. Stupid stuffed animals."


What a relief to see the amazing job I've done of instilling in her the virtues of impatience and blame. We wouldn't want her to be too well-developed, now would we? Got to give the other kids a chance and all that.

Even more encouraging was the conversation we had earlier this morning. Ryan had seen a mosquito and mentioned wanting to shoot all the mosquitos with a gun.

"That's a bit much, huh? Guns aren't funny. They take people's lives, and who's in charge of ending people's lives? "

"You?"

And don't you forget it....

Who's Your Daddy?

I really was just a carrier, wasn't I?

Big Balls In Cow Town

(Written Tuesday Night 6/17):

When I was in high school, there was this coach who taught economics. Complete stereotypical Texas coach -- big belly, tight pants, and a very heavy accent. And did I mention his NUTS WERE THE SIZE OF TENNIS BALLS? Well, they were. And when I say he wore his pants tight, I'm referring to Wranglers. The really really tight ones.

And do you want to guess where his favorite place to hang out in the clssroom was? Front and center, half-perched on a kitchen stool. As if to say, "See? See my ridiculously LARGE BALLS?See them. Love them. "

I never once got through that class without humming, Big balls in cowtown, we'll all go down...

Why am I subjecting you to these cruel, cruel visuals? Because until last night, I hadn't thought of him in years. In fact, there's another reason why I've desperately tried to banish him from my memory (as if that wasn't enough).

First, let me just say how pissed I am now that they let a coach like him teach economics. He was horrible. Didn't teach me one damn thing. I, of course, got an A in the class. (My project partner was the valedictorian--it was a tight race; he insisted on completing the project entirely on his own. He didn't trust the rest of us mere mortals. We, being 17 and months away from FREEDOM, sad "have fun" and kicked back. So now I know shit about economics, all because Big Bazlls didn't care enough to actually make me work. Or, perhps he was a phenomenal teacher -- I was most certainly so entranced by the lure of the loins that it all went right past me. Either way, I was short changed. (Put that in your economics pipe and smoke it)


Second, and most important, Big Ball's class was the scene of the FATAL FINGER FOLLY. It was a warm summer day, we were counting down the weeks until graduation, Valedictorian Boy was covering my ass in eco, so I, of course, was spending my class time severing the head of a min-Barbie doll (I'd had a Happy Meal for lunch that day... hmmm...not much has changed, has it?) with my mini Swiss Army knife. So there I was, happily sawing along, and Slip! Slice! Spurts of blood came shooting out of my middle finger, covering my books, desk, Valedictorian Boy in splashes of red. Big Balls, rolling his eyes at the weird girl playing with a pocket knife and a miniature Barbie, sent me straight to the nurse with strict instruction not to come back "until you've got all that crap cleaned up now, ya hear?" (Hauck, spit, adjust ENORMOUS BALLS)

Aside from the fact that my finger was throbbing and losing pints of blood by the minute, I was enjoying my break from class until I had to start explaining how it happened to everyone I saw in the hallway. And you know me, Miss TMI, I couldn't get away with simply telling people I cut myself; no, I had to stop and mime the actual activity, explaining it pretty much the same as I just did above. (Again, not much has changed on my end of things.)

Beyond the fact that after about the 3rd explnation, I began to catch on that people thought I was a bit off, and stopped thinking of it as a funny diversion from class, I also learned that there would be a possibility of stitches.

This was not turning into the fun joyride I'd thought it'd be.

Lucky for me, I ended up with just a butterfly bandaid thingy and some very funny "You Are The Dumbest Human On The Planet" cards from my closest friends.


Good Lord, this is longer story than I'd planned.

Anywy, the reason I thought about him was because I sliced my finger open earlier this week, blood spurted, it hurt, and this time, well this time I ended up with 6 stitches. REL ONES. The kind they do on tv. AND I hd to get a tetanus shot. TETANUS SHOTS HURT.

And then? And then he shot numbing stuff into each of my 2 huge, gaping cuts . WITH A NEEDLE. HARD.

I wasn't aware that this would be happening until about 2 seconds before it happened. Apparently Shawn knew, but I was clueless. It was after the 5th time the doctor asked if I was sure I would be okay, did I need to lie down? Throw up? that I finally said, "what the hell are you about to do to me?"

Then they told me, I lied down, almost threw up, told him just to do it, and squeezed the ever-living soul out of Shawn through his hand.

That was Tuesday morning at 1:30. We'd been there since 9:30 Monday night, but what with all the waiting and xrays and TETANUS SHOTS, you can understand how putting 6 stitches into a cut pinky finger would take 4 hours.

That's all I kept saying, by the way..."but I just cut my finger. I wasn't even going to come in." I think it was the shock. But this time? This time I had a much more valid, grown-up excuse: I was washing our glass blender in the sink, lost my grip, it shattered and sliced my pinky. Twice.

When I wasn't whining about all the fuss, I was humming...Big Balls in cowtown, we'll all go down...

I TOLD YOU SO

Forgive the title. It's directed at my soul mate, my best friend, my husband. The one family member who never reads this blog. My Shawn. It's referring to a little snippit of convo I just heard between Ryan and her friend Grace,

Grace: I like your Dad, but sometimes he scares me.

Ryan: Why?

Grace: You know, because he's...scary.

I've been telling Shawn this for the past two years. I've warned him of becoming Scary Grizzly Dad. And now he's done it.

All Dressed Up...

Hohum...Just getting all the finishing touches ready for the "theatre camp" I'm holding here this week. I'm really quite excited about it -- I haven't pulled some of this theatre stuff out in years. But now, I'm on this excited, anticipatory high, and I've got nothing left to do but log on and finally update the internets on what's been happening in our world as of late... (hang on, I may need to chug one more Macha Frappaccino before I go any further)

Last week was pretty decent -- Ryan was at Camp Doublecreek most of the time, while Jax and I took turns alternating between swimming at the pool and watching old school Scooby-Doo. He also spent two days at Kids Day Out, where he was hailed as "hysterical" and "so much fun."

Well sure, when, you surround him with other kids his age and tons of fun stuff to do...

Anyway, Saturday and Sunday were spent at the lake, where Jax is still residing until Friday afternoon at 12:30.

That's when we'll be performing our camp circus, so I might as well let him come -- he can be all "hysterical" and stuff. People will think we planned it. It'll be a hit.

02:14:32

I DID IT!! Not as fast as I would have liked, but that's what happens when you don't train hard enough, and then take a nasty spill on the bike course. I'm not at all surprised, what with my turbulent relationship with bikes and all. What? You've not heard the many hilarious stories of me falling off a bike? Well...

First, when I was about 5 0r 6, I received a boy's bike as a hand-me-down, and LOVED it. Until I took a major blow to the crotch, experiencing pain no little girl should ever have to experience.

Then there was the time I was "running away" on my 10 speed at the age of 10 or 11, got a bee in my hair, and in an attempt to shake it out, ate the road instead.

Then there was the time when, just minutes after having learned that Big Daddy had had his 3rd heart attack while at college, I went riding with my friend Brad and bit it on a downhill curve on the busiest road at SWT. Not at all embarassing.

So was I surprised that I crashed yesterday, taking a chunk out of my elbow, skinning my hip bone and ripping open the skin on my knee? Huh. I expected nothing less.

Anyway, here are a few pics from the big day:

One of those yellow caps is me!

Showing off my war wounds halfwy through the run (the pic does not do them justice!!)

And, finally, Big Booty Judy in all her glory, getting ready to cross the finish line.

Woohoo!! And just because I'm sooo happy to have this over with, I'm going to leave you with an OT, but very cute pic of Jax from the pool -- he sported that Alfalfa look the whole time we were swimming -- priceless!

HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!!

The Triathalon Cometh

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I'm not so sure about this whole "triathalon" nonsense. I leave to pick up my race day packet in about 45 minutes, and as I'm perusing the map of the race site, I'm starting to think that I've lost my mind.

I'm not an athelete. I never got picked first for any sports, and it's been said that I may even have passed out 10 feet from the finish line during our district 400 meter run in Jr. High. (I was unaware of the term "carb-loading" at the time.)

Also? Just took the bike I'll be riding out for the first time last night. Great bike, easy to ride (thanks, Elisa!), but 3 miles in 20 minutes? At that rate, I'll finish in under 3 hours, not under 2 like I was hoping. If I even finish -- the swim looks like a BITCH. But, I've waited this long to start panicking, so I guess I can shove my emotions down down down and not think about it until tomorrow around 6 am....



This next part is mainly for my family, none of whom is willing to drag their respective butt's out of bed and cheer me on. Here's the map of the entire course. See that little spot where it says "Swim Exit"? That's where I'm thinking I will punk out and possibly die. If I don't cross the finish line, someone tell Shawn to look for me there.

Headbands and Hannah

This boy of ours slays me. He is so ridiculously rough and destructive one minute, and the next he's prancing around with Ryan, wearing one of her glitter headbands, repeating everything Ryan says, like: "WooHoo!! The Jonas Brothers!" or "Oh my Gosh! Tinkerbell!!" with as much emphasis and enthusiasm as any 6 yr old girl I know.



And then he snaps the headband in 2, throws it at his sister, and runs off, laughing and singing, "Booty Butt Ryan! Stinky booty! Booty Booty Booty!!!"

Random Video Saturday

A day late, I know, but here are some pics of what's been keeping me away...






THE APRON. I finally finished our end-of-year gift for Ryan's teacher yesterday at 2:25 pm. 10 minutes before our very last chance to give it to her. Normally I would chalk up this kinda of under-the-wire finish to procrastination, but in this case, the delay was, well, Jaxson. Let's just be honest.

The Chinese characters mean "teacher". God, I hope they do, anyway. It would be just like me to accidentally sew "prostitute" or something.

Also? I've been spending extra time with some of my newest babies:


We went to Wildseed Farms last weekend and I picked up 2 new Hibiscus, although one of the new ones isn't in this picture. I also got these:

My Spanish Lavender, tucked away in the little make-shift herb garden. I'll save more of those tantalizing pics for another day.

Anyway, here's the video! It's a fun one of Ry climbing at the Dillo Jr. Run. (I told you I'd post them eventually...) Enjoy!!

May Madness

Forget about the Sweet Sixteen and the Final Four, if you really want to show you're tough, you have to survive May Madness.

Very similar in origin to Holiday Havoc, May Madness comes stocked with end-of-school parties, gifts to be made/purchsed, camps and classes to plan and register for, vacations to schedule, oh, andc then there's the little matter of fending off/relenting to the children's hourly request to go to the pool. Throw in birthdays, Mother's Day, weddings and Memorial Day, and the one standing at the end of the month is the winner!

I'm gonna go ahead and just admit that although I gripe about the stress May incurs, I'm very thankful for the minimal level it causes now, considering the colossal ball of walking tears I'll become during the maximum level of stress waiting for me in May 2020.

Ryan had her awards assembly yesterday, which we were late for, along with 1/3 of the other parents. Jax was rowdy, Ryan was LAST (of the entire assembly) and we were so far in the back, we didn't really get any good pictures. (That'd be where that whole "late" thing comes in.)

Here is what I did get:

See how proudly she's displaying her "most inquiring learner" award? Little does she know that's teacher speak for "the one who won't stop asking questions". I think it's awesome -- QUESTION AUTHORITY RYAN!! (Except when it's me or dad. Then you may let it slide.)

Now I'm off to tend to my garden, small and meek though it is. I've got pics, but I'll save them for later....

Hibiscus Hysterics

My beautiful, beautiful babies!!

So vibrant. So fresh. So totally massacred 10 minutes after these pics were taken by a lug-headed 3 yr old troll wielding a plastic toy saw.

Random Video Friday

Sorry, I'd stay and chat, but Jax just poured a bottle of parmesan cheese into his mouth and half of it ended up on the floor. Gotta go!

Fun Fleamarket Find

So, I'm not sure when this little jewel was actually made, although I'm guessing...80's? Did they even have battery-operated cars in the 70's? How about battery-operated cars complete with hydraulics, flashing lights and accompanying Mariachi music?

Whenever it was made, it was totally worth the $4 I paid at last weekend's Fredericksburg Trade Days. Jax hasn't stopped playing with it, and although the noise is a little distracting, can anyone really ever hear too much Mariachi music? I mean, really?

Angel Kisses

Ryan: "Mom! I'm getting really tired of everybody always asking me about the bumps on my neck! Everyday they ask, 'what are those things?what are those things?' And everyday I tell them 'They're my Angel Kisses, okay! They're ANGEL KISSES!!!' but they just keep asking and it's really making me mad!"

Mom: "Well, Baby, then just tell them this: 'These are my top-secret warts and they won't hurt me, but if you get too close or touch them, or make me really mad, then they will explode and kill you.' That should stop them."

Ryan: "Okay, mom, like nobody is going to believe that."

Mom: "Then just say that they're your skin tags, they're just bumps of skin, they don't hurt you and they won't hurt anyone else. Just tell them the truth."

Dad: "They're just like birthmarks, Ry."

Ryan: "Well you know what I'm going to say? I'm just going to tell them 'You know what? If you had a funny birthmark on you and I asked what it was and you said "Angel Kisses", then I wouldn't ask anymore. And I wouldn't laugh at you or make fun of you, I would just leave you alone. Can you do the same for me??' That's what I'm gonna say."

Mom: "That's wonderful Ry. Just remind them that everyone has birthmarks, and everyone's are different. You can even tell them about Mommy's birthmark on my butt if you want."

Ryan: "OOH! No, I'm not gonna tell them about that! ....What birthmark on your butt? Let me see....OOOOOOHHHH! The Angels kissed your butt!!! "

The one where Mommy goes Mad

Mad is the new black, or hadn't you heard?



I'm not sure if it's the pre-breakfast temper tantrums Jax has been throwing this week, the fact that the Family Selection committee I chair for Habitat has dwindled down to three, leaving us to scramble to meet the newly moved-up deadline of having all home visits done by...TODAY, the fact that Ryan went to school today with my cellphone in her pocket, or that it's May, which means DADDY WORKS ALL THE TIME. Whatever it is, it got up bright and early to pee all over my cheerios and now I feel the wave of insanity inching its way toward the surface.



Breathe with me, people. I'm afraid if I yell anymore my head may explode, which I'm thinking would be even harder to clean off the carpet than those eggs. Remember them??

Catholic Guilt Runs Deep, My Sistah

So I just received an email from Ninny in response to another email I'd sent about helping Chinese earthquake victims. She wanted to know why I wasn't trying to help her friends by forwarding their charity golf tournament email she'd sent to me. Although I gently explained that I am a perfect sister, and therefore had already forwarded the email, I still feel her Inner Catholic Eye (or as I like to call it: I.C.E.).


Yes, her I.C.E. is boring a hole through my soul using lasers of guilt pebbled with tiny fragments of shame, and so that it is why I would like to tell you all about a little Charity Golf Tournment being held September 29, 2008. Well, that's not the only reason, but it is a pretty good motivator.

I'm just going to go ahead and post the email below:


Hello everyone,

If you are receiving this email, then you either know Phillip and Sara Kreymer, or you know someone who knows them. As you may have heard, Phillip was diagnosed with a brain tumor just over a year ago. He has had two surgeries and has been undergoing chemotherapy and radiation treatments this past year. In an effort to help support the Kreymers during this difficult time, we will be having a golf tournament benefiting Phillip on September 29, 2008 . This event is to raise money for the Kreymers as Phillip continues to undergo his treatments. Please take a moment to read the attached bio to learn more about Phillip’s experience.

We are asking each of you to please help us in this effort by sending this information to everyone you can to help us find sponsors, players, items for raffles and prizes, etc. This event can be a great success if you will help us spread the word to your friends, family, co-workers, and any business owners you may know.

For those of you who are not interested in playing, donating items for raffles and prizes would be great. For those of you who would like to play or volunteer at the event, the registration forms are attached for you to fill out. All of the forms for volunteers, donations, sponsorships, and players are attached – be sure to scroll down to see all of the forms. Registering as soon as possible is greatly appreciated!

For further information regarding sponsorship, golf registration and raffle donations, please contact Stayci Runnels at Lantana Golf Club, 940-728-4653 or visit http://www.strengthforphillip.com/.

You can also view an article written by The News Connection by clicking this link:
http://www.thenewsconnection.com/article.cfm?articleID=31378

We appreciate your support!

I'm not sure if any of you live near Lantana or know someone who does, but I, for one, am planning on making a ROAD TRI-UHP!! (Tanya - that means Shawn & I will be staying with you. And probably Jeff & Lalo, too. But don't tell them yet. I want to ambush them. I really think they'll be surprised!)

Really, though. Take a look at the website. Now. NOW. (Now you're just thinking I can see you from the computer, right? Well I can. Now go!)

Just another 5 minutes

Now if I'd only recorded the 15 minutes we all spent in the hall closet last night while waiting out the "tornado". Let me put it this way: Shawn, dark closet, flashlight, ghost story. You've never seen 2 kids so enthralled, or so bummed to come out of a closet.

Knitting for Peace

Well, I'd planned on showing a random 5 min video clip from yesterday that made me laugh, but it's still"processing", which it has been doing for over 8 hours now. For 5 min of footage. That's correct. It's been "processing" "99%" of 5 minutes of video for over 8 hours. It's been a great excuse to practice my breathing. And my sighing, grunting, and growling.



So rather than postpone the next post until next week (by when I'm sure it would be done "processing"...um, right?), I thought I'd just pop in and tell you about the book I bought last week and subsequently fell in LOVE with. BFF love. 4-EVA.



Truly, I've already started a list of who's getting which projects for Christmas. Lemme just say, I know a couple of gals who are really going to enjoy their Peace Fleece Classic Wool Socks! Am I right Lea? Nin?

The Lemonade Stand

Once upon a time, there was a Fair Queen who threw a festive "trunk show" party, bubbling for weeks with excitement over the beautiful products she was creating and the certain success of the upcoming event.



The day of the party finally arrived and our Queen, having steamed the carpet by hand, moved furniture, redecorated with displays of her gorgeous gift baskets and custom holiday cards, purchased mini quiches, mini cheesecakes and bottles of champagne, sat anxiously in her home, alone, waiting eagerly for the company that never came.



Ironically, years before the Queen's own mother had experienced a similar fate as a child, when no one attended the birthday party she and her parents had worked so hard on. (Don't feel too bad for the Queen and her mother -- they both ended up with wonderful lives, and I've hjeard tell that the Fair Queen even managed to turn her frown upside down by consuming all the mini-quiches and mini cheesecakes and bottles of champagne all by herself, though again, that's just a rumor.)

You can see why, with all the history in her family, the King was a little worried no one would show up to his Princess's Lemonade Stand that she'd been planning for days.

Little did he know, the curse of the Lonely Party had been broken when the beautiful Princess was born, (owing mainly to her incessant reminders and bugging of friends and family, but that is neither here nor there).

And so it was that Ryan's Annual Peace, Love & Lemonade Event was born, a huge success in its own right, with sold-out cookies, candy, popcorn and lemonade, a FREE sprinkler to play in, and $25 in proceeds donated to Unicef. Friends, family and teachers came from high and lo, along with a couple of Lawn Men who came back for seconds, thirds and fourths (although they did refuse the sprinkler, even after the kids mentioned it was FREE. Silly Lawn Men).

The Prince and Princess, obviously deep in a marketing strategy meeting


THE LEMONADE STAND



Ryan's secret wepon: The neighborhood GodFather. Would YOU say "no" to this face???

Jax Says...

"Daddy loves me."

Me: "And who else?"

"Ryan."

Me: "And who else?"

"Menana and Big Daddy."

Me: "Uh-huh. Who else?"

"...Jeff Gordon..."


I can hear Shawn banging his head against the wall even as I type this...

That Sounds About Right

Had you been a fly on my wall just 5 minutes ago, here's what you would have overheard:

Me (talking to my sis on the phone): "Nin, I gotta go. Jax is beating the guitar with a golf club."

Our weekend kicks your weekend's ASS!

Took what can only be described as a LONG road trip with Big Daddy, Menana and the kids to visit Honey and Pappy this weekend.

Considering the behavior issues Jax has been throwing at us lately, you'd think we'd know better, but you'd be wrong. We are incomprehensibly stupid and no amount of banging pur heads on any hard surface will change that. Believe me, we've tried.

Our first mistake was leaving around 4 pm on a Friday afternoon. For a 5 hour trip. Through Houston. Did I mention Jax was with us?

While we couldn't help the time we left, we did try to be prepared. We brought along our little dvd player (which, SONY, is NOT skip-proof), plenty of movies, snacks galore, toys, books, and I, of course, had my beer. Open Container Policy, be damned!!!!

15 minutes down the road, though, none of that mattered, because Scooby Doo kept skipping, Ryan kept whining that Scooby kept skipping, Jax kept dropping his cars and asking me to retrieve them, and I, consequently, kept spilling my beer.

Oh, and did I mention the pinched nerve in my lower back that has been sending shooting pains down my leg since Thursday night? Those came with us, too -- hence, the beer.

We reached our midway mark around 7pm, stopped, had dinner, treated the kids to ice cream cones that had to be finished in 5 minutes (before entering the car), and kept heading east. Houston came too quickly, as it seems to do every time we venture to our old stomping grounds, and I think it was right around Pasadena that we were forced to merge to one lane on I10 in order to give the Houston CSU team enough room to gather evidence from the Freeway Shootout that must have happened just hours before. Try explaining that one to the world's most inquisitive children.

Finally, we reached our destination around 10:45, after managing to get the kids to sleep a mere 30 minutes before. No big deal. Surely they were as tired as we, no? Surely they would gratefully collapse into bed and drift off to dreams in no time. Surely I've been reading too many fairytales.

It wasn't until 12:30 that Jax finally went down, having exhausted himself for half an hour crying over the binky we spent the previous half hour searching for to no avail, until, at the end of my already very short rope, I did one more crawl-around, begging Saint Anthony for his God-Blessed help JUST THIS ONE LAST TIME, PLEASE, and discovered it gingerly lying just under the bed's dust-ruffle.

Normally, this type of fiasco would really have pissed Big Daddy off, but seeing as how he and Menana had opted to shack up at the Holiday Inn, rather than roughing it with us at Pappy's, he didn't have to endure even one second of the RAGE THAT WOULD NOT STOP.

He did, however, get to suffer the effects of it the next morning when, after waking again at 3 am for another screaming bout, Jax was up and ready to go at 6:30 am. Mommy, however, was not, and so graciously ALLOWED Menana, Big Daddy and Pappy to take the kids with them to breakfast and a shopping jaunt at Target. Suckers.

They returned around 11 am, with a story that must have seemed one-of-a-kind to them but sadly, to me, sounded like just another day.

Apparently, Jax managed to crash a mannequin, seperating her body from her arms, legs, and hands, as well as severing her right index finger. Next, when kindly approached by a patrolling officer, proceeded to "blllttthhhh" with his tongue at the nice man, and then body-slam Menana to the ground.

And was rewarded with a new set of Thomas toys. Wonders never cease.

Apprently, raising hell takes a bit out of you, because as soon as we set him down in bed for a nap, he was out for the next 3 hours.

According to Big Daddy, Menana and I used that down time to our advantage, being the, what was the word he used?Ahh yes, OPPORTUNISTS that were, and left to visit Honey for lunch and do some light shopping at Target (apparently, Port Neches is the Target shopping mecca of SE Texas). Our high-rolling time didn't last long though, for Big Daddy was quickly on the phone demanding we get back asap. Was Jax awake? No, but we were having fun while he was stuck in the same house alone with his father-in-law and two young kids. This is not the way he rolls.

We continued our assault on our Cajun counterparts at a family crawfish boil, yelling at Jax to stop putting his fingers near the resident Pit Bull's mouth, and listening to Pappy do his thing on the fiddle. Hey diddle diddle.

Next up was dinner time with Honey, while Ry made friends with the smoking population of Gulf Heath Nursing Home out on the front porch. Then it was on to the hotel for a dip in the pool, which Ryan couldn't get enough of (once I'd made the second trip back to the house to retrieve her forgotten bathingsuit), much the opposite from her brother who would not allow himself to be brought even an inch off the steps without complete air-lift support from Big Daddy. For such a tough little horse's ass, he sure is a big ol' pussycat. We topped the evening with McDonalds, consumed around a kitchen table that just doesn't seem alive without Honey's presence, bid our goodnight's to Mom and Dad, and headed to bed.

And then I realized that the binky was in the car. At the hotel. Side note: I can now drive from Pappy's house to the Holidy Inn in my sleep.

Thanks to the long day and swimming episode, the night was sleep-filled and uneventful, as was the majority of the ride home. Actually, the ease of the ride home was largely due to the influence of this book, which I'd just checked out from the library on the recommendation of a child psychologist friend. (Every mom should have a Child Psychologist for a friend.)

And that, my friends, is why our weekend kicks your weekend's weenie ass. Challenge me. I dare you.

Typo Tantrum

Yes, I have noticed the typo's in recent posts, and no, I'm not regressing back to 5th grade english. The fact of the matter is, Jax is obsessed with the "A" key, has removed it several times, chewed on it a bit, and now it is what we like to call "tempermental".

As you can see, I don't care about it enough to do spellcheck everytime, especially since you're lucky to get me to type anything on here these days. That said, I promise to try harder to punch that A key as hard as possible in the future. I hope this will please those of you who I know are mentally scolding me everytime you see the errors of my typing (mom).

That said, I'm off to darn the holes in Shawn's socks -- how mad do you think he'd be if I used pink thread? I'm seriously considering...

The Monster in the House

Jax camre running into our room in the wee hours of the morning tody, as usual, but this time he was scared -- nd very vocal.

"There's a monster in my room! The monster, thew clock, Ryan. The monster!!!"

Having just been dreaming that this sweet little 3 yr old was trying to kill me (yeah, what does THAT mean??), I mumbled something, set up a pallet on the floor and tried to go back to sleep.

Of course, just minutes later Ry cam bounding in, whining, "No fair! How come he gets to sleep in here?"

So I set up a pllet for her, listened to them argue for a few minutes about who had more/not enough room on the floor, then giggled to myself as Shawn grumbled to them fron his sleep, sending them into another arguement (a whispering one this one) about who was being louder.

Later this morning as I ws getting Jax dressed, he commented on the monster in his room again, and this time I answered, "No, baby. There's no monster. See?" Showing him that all the nooks and crannies in his room were just that, he bounced back with, "No, Mommy! The monster! Ryan! By the clock!!"

"There is no clock in here Jax -- and are you saying that Ryan was the monster?"

"Yes! Ryan Monster! She SCARE me!!"

Listening to her bully him now, I can certainly see why...

24 Hours Later...

...and we have video!!! You do NOT want to know what I went through to get this out to you kind folks. All I can say is, if there is anyone reading out there from Flip Video, please let me know why it took all day to "process", "save" and "upload" the following 5 minutes of video. Also, if there is an "easy" way to edit them all together, that would be great. I tried, but when I realized it wouldn't be finished until 2010, I decided to just leave them dissected and seperate. At least I was able to put them in order on here.

Also, in honor of the wonderful firemen who transported my precious cargo, let's all get out to Baskin Robbins today for their 31 cents per scoop day, supporting America's Firefighters. Yumm!!!! (That's what she said.)

I guess you might be wondering how they got so lucky as to get a ride to school on the Big Red Bus, and let me just tell you -- it wasn't cheap. I won the 2 seats in a silent auction at Ry's school (yes, I'm THAT mom). Lea and Nin chipped in to pay for Jax's seat as a birthday gift, and my wallet is very appreciative!!

You know you're an AWESOME parent when...

...your 6 yr old daughter proclaims that you are the "worstest and meanest" mom ever, and that she wishes she was never born...all because you were too rough when brushing her hair. I can't wait to see how she reacts when we have her fitted for her chastity belt.

** Check back later for pics from the kids' ride to school on the firetruck -- and to hear all about Ninny's attempts to snag herself a fireman.

The Parenting Gap

Shawn is such a good Dad. He loves his kids, sacrifices for them everyday, and even indulges my periodic thoughts of having more. But like every man, he has his shortcomings. One of which is the weird way he chooses what misbehavior gets disciplined and what does not.

Take for instance his latest battle with Jax. For whatever reason, Jax's newest thing is repeating the phrase "booty butt" over nd over and over. And over. It doesn't really bother me (in fact, I may or may not be guilty of using the phrase myself from time to time), but it downright boils Shawn's blood.

I'm not sure what it is about the phrase, but those two words together flowing from our son's mouth send Shawn reeling. He doesn't mind the "booty", seeing as how he's yet to reprimand Jax when he calls any of us "booty" (which he frequently does; I am, in fact, looking into legally changing my name to Mommy Booty York), and I know it's not the "butt" part, because he himself is frequently heard clling the kids "butt-munch", "butt-head", and so forth. No, it's the joining of the words that pulls the punch, inexplicable to me, but then again, so is his habit of smelling his food before he eats.

I guess it's a little like my refusal to let Ryan watch some of the "tween" dramas on tv, all the while letting her pull up a chair next to me to watch Desperate Housewives. Although, in my defense, I do cover her eyes and ears any time Edie or Gabrielle get anywhere near a man.

The Distance Between Us

Let me just lay it out for ya nice and simple-like:

I'm having lots and lots of fun with my family, volunteering left, right, front and back, "training" for a triathalon, and spending my free time on projects like this and the ones in here. I've got a Theatre Camp I'm holding here in June, and another (potentially) in August, am still grasping at my fading dreams of maintaining a garden this summer, and then there's the whole other matter of keeping up with Jax during the day. Blogging has just become one more thing on my list of things to do, and slowly but surely, it's making its way further and further down that list.

That's not to say I've forgotten my far away friends and family who check in for updates from time to time -- I still love you and will post when I can, but be warned: they will no longer be quite so "daily basis", as it were.

I understand how hard this must be for some of you who rely on my wit to carry you through the day, but for those of you who have found yourself forlorn, please note: I'm not that funny. Funny went out the door with my waistline and self-lifting breasts. There are lots and lots of other sites you can read with much more accompanying laughter than this little blog. I know it's hard to believe, but trust me, you will survive.

So, until next week, hugs and kisses and all that good stuff.

My Baby, the Big Boy.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAX MAN!! We love you so so much -- you are so much fun to have around, even when you're spilling unidentified liquids, marking the furniture with Sharpies, and kicking the walls with unbridled rage. You are more than we ever bargained for, and we thank God every day for sending you to us!!! And now you'll have to excuse Mommy while I hide in my closet and cry. Don't be alarmed, now that I'm practically pre-menapausal, this will be happening often. Just do what Ryan does, Buddy -- Go into your room and start singing/screaming at the top of your lungs. That should drown out the sobs. Happy Birthday Big Boy!!