Inspiration

Just as I'm musing over no longer feeling the motivation to write, Jax up and gets himself sent to the Principal's office at school today. Well, The YMCA's Mother's Day Out version of the Principal's office, which technically is the office of the lady in charge of child services at the Y, but you get the point.

His teacher is a lovely lady who taught Ryan in the program when she was 3, and lucky for us, she has a son a few years older than Ryan who was exactly like Jax at his age. She's always saying how happy she is to have the opportunity to teach him, and goes out of her way to paint any "incidents" with Jax in the most rose-colored of ways.

Today, for instance, all she said at pick-up was, "We had to visit Miss Toni's office today, but afterwards he did much better. His energy level was just a little higher than normal today."

Which is like saying Rush Limbaugh is just a little pompous. That's all. Just a smidge.

Once in the hallway, I question Jax as nonchalantly as possible, asking him if he got to go see Miss Toni today, and what, per chance, did they talk about? "Yeah," he responded. "I don't know."

"Okay, well can you tell me why you got to go to her office?"

"'Cause I was like jumping and jumping and jumping and then I jumped on the big blue thing and was like ahahahahahaha." Oh. Okay. I can only assume that by the "big blue thing" he meant the big blue tube-slide, and that by going ahahahaha, he meant jumping/scooting all the way down on top of it. Or something.

My questions were quickly dismissed as we were walking by the elderly grandmother of one of his classmates, and he said, "WHOA! She's OLD!"

"Shhh," I scolded, bending down to his eye level. "It's not nice to talk about people like that, Jax."

"Okay," he reluctantly grumbled. Then, in the time it took me to straighten myself up, he'd run over to her, grabbed her dress and yelled, "HEY! YOU'RE OLD!"

And I'm back to blogging. Good time, good times.

Another one from Jax

I know these QOTD's are trite, but I've not been too inspired lately. Unless you want to hear me rattle on about screaming tantrums, hitting, kicking walls and slamming doors. Personally, living through it every day is enough for me. No need to hash out the details. So, in lieu of an actual post, and because I'm digging deep to find humorous bits about this boy, here are his latest quotes:

"Mommy, I'm the FART MASTER!!"

"Hey Mom, I'm going to find the poop with my binoculars."

"How come when I poop it makes my butt hot?"

I'm seeing a theme here...smelling it, too.

Mysterious Ways

We've just finished dinner and have been talking to Ryan about excluding friends at school, being mean to someone just because they were mean to you first, and all that other glorious cattiness we encounter when girls are concerned. I can't tell you how much I look forward to these "talks".

It's possible I may have gone on a tad too long this time, muddling the point with examples and explanations, because after my "everyone-is-different-and-that's-okay-because-that's-how-God-wants-us-to-be-He-can-do-anything-He-wants-and-if-He-wanted-us-to-all-be-the-same-He-would-have" speech, she concurred with the following story:

"Yeah, Mom, because you know, He really can do anything He wants. Like today I was sad and not feeling that great, but I still tried to be nice and good, and so when I was watching Phineas and Ferb today, they usually go straight to the cartoon after the beginning song, but this time, God said, 'You know what? Ryan has been really good all day and I know she really has to go to the bathroom, so I'm gonna put a commercial on so she doesn't have to miss anything.' And He DID!!"

Clearly, my work here is done.

Hustle and Flow, Baby

It's Cookie Time at the York house, which basically just means a lot of anxiety for Mommy. Anxiety over how I am ever going to avoid eating these things by the ton, and anxiety over forcing Ryan to be an underage travelling salesman. I know the process builds character, initiative, goal-setting and all that gobbledy-gook, but none of those lofty ideals have any power to stop my hands from sweating and my stomach from flipping every time she approaches a new target. I hate selling. Hate hate hate. Hate. I take rejection to a completely ridiculous personal level, so watching my child get rejected is the type of vicarious living I don't strive for. Not that she's been rejected all that much (twice -- and I will remember who you are), or even that she'll have to do all that much selling -- she's got Shawn's delegating gene. (Big Daddy, Lea and Ninny are currently in a race to see which of them can sell the most cookies for Ry). Anyway, we all have to grow up sometime, so I guess age 31 is just as good an age as 6.

Not to mention, Jax is completely in her corner. Not only did he point out to me how big Ryan is ("She's so big Mommy. She can drink beer now, I think."), but he's also informed us exhaustively that if anyone tells her "No", he'll "punch them in the head, sucker". So, there you go.

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...

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.

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.

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!

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.

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...

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.

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!!