Kids Are Funny

Last night was one of those rare nights where the kids were not only well-behaved all evening, but also hysterically funny. I will share my favorite conversation. Maybe you had to be there, or maybe you had to have a margarita in your belly, but the whole thing just struck me as funny.

Avery: Mom, there is a girl in my class who just does this to me all the time: shows me how the girl blows in her face and gives her the "raspberries" all the time.

Me: Why in the world does she do that?

Avery: I don't know. She does it when we sit on the carpet and when we stand in line. I never even talked to her before.

Me: That is kind of strange. Have you told her to stop?

Avery: No. I just a-nore (ignore) her.

Me: Well, if she ever says naughty words to you or hits you, you can tell the teacher. Otherwise, just keep ignoring her.

Avery: Can I tell you something and you won't get mad? It's kind of mean.

Uh oh. Here it comes.

Me: Sure, you can tell me anything (gulp.)

Avery: She kind of has, well, kind of has a mean face. It looks like she's mean all the time. And she has alot of leftover boogers on her face. Her mom doesn't wipe stuff off her face at all.

Me: (Holding back laughter) Well, she probably just isn't a very happy little girl and it's probably best that you just be kind but ignore her if she is mean.

That was the end of it until we got in the car.

Me: Avery, I was just thinking. I bet that little girl just wants to be your friend but she doesn't know how to ask you. Do you think?

Reese (out of nowhere), shouting: STUPID OLD MAN!!!

Me: What? What did you just say?

Reese is silent, as if she has no idea what I am talking about.

Me: Did you say 'stupid old man?' Who were you talking about?

Reese: This (points at her car seat buckle, which she has been working on buckling for 5 minutes and can't seem to work it.)

According to Avery, Reese says "Stupid old man" all the time when she's upset. I have no idea where she got this, but I blew snot out of my nose trying not to laugh at her. And then I had leftover boogers on my face, which made me laugh again.

Kids are funny.

Who Cares If It's Lame?

This morning, when Avery suggested that I buy myself a birthday cake so we could have a party after school, I told her no. I told her that most people don't buy themselves a birthday cake. She said "Why not?" And I thought...why not, indeed? Who cares if it will just be me, my kids, and the kids I drag home after school with us? This could actually be pretty fun.

Confession: I was kind of excited because I knew immediately which cake I would pick if they had it in the case at Kroger. Every time I see this, I want to have a reason to get it. And today I did.

Thanks, Ave, for making me feel like it's ok to buy my own cheeseburger and fries birthday cake!

Bad Mood? Go to Wal Mart

Who knew Wal Mart could be the happiest place on Earth? Not me, that's for sure. I normally dread trips to Wal Mart and today was no different. Plus, I've been in a perpetual state of bad-moodness for the past week or so. It's a combination of a lot of things, mostly to do with being a parent (Avery has been in some big trouble lately), some with school starting (I don't do well with change), and some with getting older (I'll be 36 tomorrow!). None of these things are big enough to ruin a person's day, but when you combine them all every day for a week, it starts to feel kinda big.
I've been trying to find ways to lift my spirits, including drinking spirits, but nothing seems to be working. My house has been a pit and sometimes, the out-of-control appearance of my house makes me feel out of control. I'm babysitting and busy, so I decided to milk my bad mood and beg my husband to hire Celia, our once-every-six-months housekeeper. (How many hyphenated words can one person use in a post?)
I should be elated. And it makes me feel like a spoiled brat that I was irritated that she was 2 hours late. I was irritated because I have Reese (2 1/2), Rhett (15 months) and the baby I keep (9 months.) I had meals, naps and poops all planned out so that I could get it all done, be gone for a couple of hours and then come back in time for one more feeding for the baby before we walk to the school to pick up Avery and other kids I'm keeping today. Ok, so she's 2 hours late. I am not going to act rude about it because it's not like she was at the mall shopping. She was cleaning someone else's house and I should be grateful I can afford to hire her (sometimes when it's my birthday week) at all. So we rolled with it.
I loaded up the kids and the baby immediately started screaming. I began to dread walking around Wal Mart with three kids under three when only two can fit in the cart and the one who can walk is notorious for hiding in stores. But the minute we walked in the door, I could tell it would be a good trip.
There was a band singing directly behind the cash registers. Actually, it was a man and two women, but they were really getting after it. The man's name is Fisher Stevenson, and according to the Wal Mart workers, he's "the next big thing." He was very social and personable and he talked to people as they walked by. He spotted Reese in her pink princess gown and tap shoes and told her she was beautiful. That's all that girl needs to hear. She stopped directly in front of him. He looked at me, asked her her name and told me she looked like Suri Cruise (2nd person in 10 minutes, by the way.) He then said "This next song is dedicated to Reese here." He asked Reese if she knew ballet and she put her hands up and twirled. He began to play and she proceeded to dance, all by herself in a circle of onlookers. She didn't stop the entire song, and a few other kids came to join. I know it's a cliche, but that girl danced like nobody was watching. And when the song ended and the group of spectators began to applaud, she came running up to me, arms wide open, with a look of pure joy on her face. It was one of "those" moments. The moments as a mother where you feel as if your heart will burst right out of your chest. One of those moments where everything else in the world fades completely away and all you can feel is happiness. I will never in my life forget Sweet Little Reesie, twirling in her "pin-thess" dress and "tippy taps," confident and secure that, at that moment she was the most beautiful, talented ballerina in the world.

The First "Real" Day

EDITED 12:29 p.m. (I forgot one more thing that made my heart swell...Avery came in after brushing her teeth this morning holding a sample of perfume. She said "Mom, I put this on since I have school today, ok? Say it with me..."Awwwwww.")


Today was the first full day of school for Kindergarten and I was surprised that it went so well. Avery couldn't wait to go and she didn't even want me to walk in with her. She said "Mom, do you have to come inside with me?" I told her no, but that I was going to do it all week and she said "I thought it was a REAL school day today?!" I obviously did not have one of those children who was clinging to my leg, begging Mom to stick around. She was more than ready to be on her own. She can't wait to eat at school ("Awesome!"), play on the playground ("So awesome!") and go to PE ("We get to do sports in the school? Awesome!"). Needless to say, she is a tad bit independent and terribly excited to get this whole ball rolling. That makes it easier, I think, to leave them.

Leaving Avery was easier than expected. Leaving the house was not. Getting all three of them dressed and fed by 7:40 proved to be a challenge. I was sweating profusely by the time we reached the school. At any rate, Reese, Rhett and I are home and wondering what to do with ourselves. Here are a few pictures of our morning.

Here's Avery, walking down our driveway. Her Pa Pa got her new school shoes and she loves them.

The little ones are pretty excited too, although they don't know why.

Here's the Kindergartener unpacking her bag. She knew right where to put everything. She was so on the ball. I asked her if she knew where her cubby was and she said "Of course, we were already here once." Duh, Mom.

This was probably my favorite moment of the morning. I promise it's not staged. Avery told Reese to come give her a hug and I was lucky enough to have my camera ready. I could cry just looking at it and thinking of Reesie's little voice as we walked out of the classroom saying, "Mom, now where do I go?" It's so hard to be the ones left behind.

This is how we left her. Sitting at her desk, waiting for all the unknown, exciting things to happen. I see a tiny bit of apprehension in her face, but she wouldn't dare admit it. That tells me is that she will miss us a little bit today. Maybe not as much as we miss her, but she'll still miss us. Won't she?

Homeschooling?

Is it too late for me to decide to keep Avery at home one more year? Or homeschool her? Just for one more year?
Today was her first day of school and they only went for about an hour while the parents listened to a bunch of procedural stuff. Basically telling us about lunch, how to pick them up after school and other general "don't-be-an-annoying-parent" stuff. And I still cried.
What is my problem? I taught Kindergarten at this school. I know the principal and many of the teachers. And I'm still a total basket case over it.
I'm not ready to let my baby girl go. I feel like, once they start school, it all goes so fast and every year is a step further away from me. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.
I realize that I can repeat that all I want, but that tomorrow will still come and she will leave me. And she can't wait.
I'm off to cry some more. And try to think of distracting things I can do tomorrow so that I won't be so lonely without her on her first full day of Kindergarten.

I Feel Sorry For Her

I don't even know this girl, but I feel sorry for her. Every time I see this ad pop up on my computer screen, I wonder if she's seen it. It's not the picture that would make me wilt, it's the caption. "She's a model now?!" Am I just being hormonal or is this mean? I feel sorry for her...and also I worry that one of my old yearbook pictures is floating around out there with the caption, "Can you believe her teeth are actually straight now?!" or "Would you believe someone married this chick?!" or "Can you believe this girl stopped wearing color-coordinated Esprit outfits with matching twist beads?" or...

Ok, so you get my drift. Yearbook pictures should stay in the yearbook, where they belong, only to be shared with your equally-dorky classmates.

Juice Bong?

What does it appear that she is doing? Maybe I'm just a raging alcoholic, but this reminds me of bonging beers in high school. That's not, of course, what she is doing, but that's immediately where my mind went, which is why I had to grab a camera.

What she is really doing is, in my opinion, still somewhat wrong. She's letting her sister use this makeshift fire hose to blow into her mouth. Ick.

And now her ear....

They are so weird. They must get this from their dad's side of the family.

Mmmmm, Cheetos

This was quite possibly the happiest moment of Rhett's week. He found his sister's Cheetos. He took them to the kitchen and ate quietly, presumably so no one would notice he was there.

He crammed them in as fast as he could, trying to savor every moment before he got caught.

Big Tuna Goes to the Doctor

So Friday was Big Tuna's 15-month Well Check appointment. It was basically uneventful except for two things.
1. We realized that he weighs a mere TWO POUNDS less than his older sister. Rhett is tipping the scales at 29 pounds, while Reese had to keep her shoes on to hit 31.
The good news is that he's a boy. There are always nose guard positions available as well as Olympic weightlifting. Also, according to the doctor, "He may look like a hunk, but he's also tall for his age, so he should weigh that much."

2. The doctor says bunk beds are a hazard. He hates them. His twin boys have them, but they've never stacked them, even though the boys are now 8 years old. He sees just too many injuries that way. He recommends leaving them unstacked for as long as possible.
Huh? Why would he mention this out of the blue? Oh yeah, the huge scrape down Rhett's back and the two busted lips from falling off of the ladder that is supposed to be under the bed, but somehow wasn't because they "wanted to play army fort and they have to get on the top."
the doctor suggested that we put the ladder in the attic. He didn't seem amused with my neglectful parenting.
I'm just glad it wasn't Reese's appointment. I would have had to tell him that she chewed through the electrical cord on the DVD player and almost shocked the hell out of herself. Can you imagine the look on his face then?
Wait...do I hear knocking at the door? Is that Child Protective Services? Uh oh. We're going out the back...

The Payback

I felt like Supermom yesterday. I'm not bragging, I promise. It only happens once in a blue moon, so I know I'm not actually Supermom. But I felt like it.
I was up at 5 so I could go jogging before Aaron left for an overnight trip. After jogging, I came in, went through my clothes so my friend could borrow the ones that don't fit me. Until they do fit me. Which hasn't happened since my children were born, but I'm sure it will happen soon. Oh wait. I quit boot camp, didn't I?
Ok, whatever, I'm still Supermom. I cleaned out the closet, then began preparing homemade biscuits for when my children woke up. One of the kids I babysit arrived around 8:30 and he was sad. Comforted him and woke Avery up to help me. Feeling great.
As Supermom, I feel that a scheduled craft will help lift every one's spirits so we make Suncatchers. The kids loved them. Score one for Supermom! Never mind the tiny beads all over the floor. I sweep it all up and send them outside to play while the Suncatchers bake in the oven.
In the meantime, the baby I keep shows up. I put her in the high chair with Cheerios and call my friend to see if her two boys want to come over to play in the water. They show up and all of my kids, plus the boy I babysit, plus the two boys are outside playing in the water. I yell out the door that I will make cookies for them to decorate after lunch. They are excited. "Way to go, Supermom!" They don't say this, but I know they were thinking it.
I realize I have no sugar cookie dough, but I have a cookbook and all the basics, so I decide to make them from scratch. Yes, from scratch. I make the cookies and refrigerate the dough as directed. I then wonder what I will make all these kids for lunch. I am not in the mood for a sandwich assembly line. Plus, I'm not sure we even have enough turkey for 6 children. I spot the hamburger I'm thawing in the sink. I had planned to make the kids and I a cheeseburger macaroni-ish casserole for dinner. I decide it makes more sense to make it for lunch. So while I clean the cookie dishes, I begin browning hamburger and cooking macaroni.
I see the clock. It's 11:00 and I've already done more in this day than I usually do in one day. Go, Supermom.
I call them inside to dry off, change clothes and wash up for lunch. They track in more grass and water than I thought possible. I sweep the kitchen floor for the second time.
Lunch is ready. They love it. Three of the kids ask for seconds. This gives me a rush, which is embarrassing.
They all eat good and I send them off to play while I bake the cookies and get the icing ready. The dough is all cold and pliable so I decide to form it in the shape of the first letter of their name. They will love this. As the cookies bake, I dye all the frosting and get all the sprinkles out. They come downstairs to see their initials and they are all excited. They can't believe it. "Way to go, Supermom." They don't say it, but I know they are thinking it.
The cookie decorating lasts a lot longer than I had anticipated and it's relatively calm and argument-free. It went very well. When they are finished, I see sprinkles, cookie crumbs and icing all over the floor. I send them off to play, bag up the leftover cookies, and begin cleaning the kitchen. I sweep the floor for the third time. It's only 1:30.
The baby wakes up (oh yeah, I fed her and put her down for a nap during all of this) and wants to be held and changed. I hold her while I gather up all the wet towels and throw them in the wash. I change Rhett, put him down for a nap and rock the baby for a bit.
The kids are all watching a movie and playing Ninja Turtle while they watch.
Once Rhett wakes up, I gather up all the kids and throw them in the car. I drop the friend's boys off at their house and the rest of us go up to the neighborhood Parcel Post to mail a package. It's closed, so I have to drive a ways to the post office. The five kids and I run in to the post office to mail a package. The trip inside takes about 4 minutes. Getting in and out of the car with five kids takes approximately 16 minutes.
We stop for drinks at Sonic and head home. The baby is asleep, so I put her in bed and tell the big kids they have to rest for a bit. That goes over like a fart in a phone booth, but I sit for a while.
Finally, it's 4:30 and the baby goes home. Then the boy. It's just my kids and me. They remind me that I promised to take them to buy more crafts for tomorrow (today). I'm exhausted, but I promised. So we go. On the way, Avery asks if we can eat dinner at a restaurant. There is one next to Hobby Lobby and I'm Supermom, so I say yes. We get to Hobby Lobby, everyone is picking out what they want and we get in the checkout lane. As I am paying, Reese walks up and says "Momma, I need new pants."
And here's where it all starts to go downhill. She has wet her pants and left a huge puddle near the checkout lanes. There are four people in line behind me and only one lane open. So everyone sees and hears what is going on. I tell the lady behind the counter and she hands me a roll of brown paper towels. These things soak up NOTHING, so I use half a roll to clean up the tee-tee. She has called the manager in the meantime, so he and all the spectators are just standing around, watching me clean my child's pee. She is standing there with wet pants, wet shoes and itchy legs, asking me for new shorts. Avery keeps saying "Mom, can we just go eat?"
We get it all cleaned up and exit the store as quickly as possible. I inform Avery that we cannot go eat since Reese has wet pants. She is immediately devastated and bursts into tears. I know she is just exhausted from all of the days' activities, so I tell her we'll go through McDonald's and get something to take home. This makes her sort of happy, but then she pushes Reese and calls her a "Doodie." We don't call names in our family (not much anyway) so I tell them we are not going to McDonald's. We are going home and eating Lunchables. Oh. My. Lord.
Don't ever tell your exhausted, whiny 5-year-old that she is eating a Lunchable, because the shit will hit the fan.
The resulting conversation went something like this. I was mortified and shocked by this whole situation, by the way. And my Supermom feeling went flying out the window, only to be replaced by the worstmotherintheworld feeling that lurks in my stomach still today.

Avery: (through tears) I'm not eating a Lunchable. I'm never eating any of your food ever again.
Me: Good, that saves us some money.
Avery: You are so mean. You are the meanest I ever saw.
Me: You haven't even seen me be mean. I suggest your zip your mouth before you see me get mean.
Avery: I have too seen mean. You are mean. I see mean every day.

I decide at this point, it's best to ignore her. She wants to rile me up and I shouldn't feed into that. But what she says next shocks me. I cannot believe this is my sweet baby girl.

Avery: You know those kids you babysit? I'm going to tell every one's mom that you are the meanest person ever and no one will bring their kids to you anymore.
You won't get to babysit. Ever.

Still ignoring.

Avery: EVER NEVER EVER NEVER EVER NEVER. You will just be alone and mean all the time!!!!!

Still ignoring. Pit in stomach has grown to the size of a small country. I turn up the radio and dance with Rhett. He is oblivious to the anger Avery is sending my way and just bangs his head against his seat to the rhythm. Reese is sucking her fingers. I say sweet things to them so they won't think everyone in the car is nuts.

Avery: Mom. Can I say sorry?

Ignore.

Avery: MOM. I WANT TO SAY SORRY. Sorry Reese. For saying you are a Doodie.

Ignoring, very purposefully now..

Avery: ANSWER ME, MOM. WHY WON"T YOU ANSWER ME???? I SAID SORRY.

Me: Avery, I don't let anyone talk to me that way, especially my 5-year-old child. I appreciate that you are sorry, but you need to realize that words hurt people and "sorry" doesn't always make it go away so quickly. I have done nothing but sweet things for you and your friends all day and the one thing I say 'No' to sends you into a huge fit. That is ridiculous and I won't tolerate it.

Avery: I'M NOT EATING A LUNCHABLE!!!

I'll stop here, even though this went on for about an hour after we got home. Avery had to spend about 40 minutes total in her room before she adjusted her attitude and came out for hugs and apologies. I did forgive her (of course), but the pit in my stomach is still there. This is what she says to me when she's angry when she's FIVE. I think it's safe to say I am scared out of my mind.

And as for the Supermom gig? Since I see how Supermom gets paid back, I have not planned any activities, meals or fun for them today. I plan to jack around on my computer while I make them clean house. Let's see how THAT mom gets treated tonight....

You're Not the Boss of Me

I quit boot camp. There, I said it. I quit boot camp. I said it again.
It's been super hard for me to admit that. I don't like to quit anything. Ever. It makes me feel like a sad loser, but I had to do it. Ok, well, I didn't have to. I wanted to. Sort of.
Honestly, I'm not sure that I really quit. In fact, tonight would have been my second night of this session and I already miss it, so I'm 99.9% sure that this is just a break. I'm not sure why I felt that I needed to, but all signs pointed to me taking a break. I've been dreading this session starting for some reason, so when my friend called to say she couldn't go Monday night and then Aaron said "I wish you weren't going tonight," it took me about 4.2 seconds to call the instructor and tell her I was sitting this session out.
I've been worried about my decision for the past three days. Even though I feel some relief and not having to go, I think I needed a break. But why did I need a break from something I loved?
I figured this much out. It wasn't just this session. I was the same way last session. So much so that I refused to do much of anything pertaining to exercise on our "off days." As if that is hurting someone else somehow. "You force me to do boot camp on Monday/Wednesday/Saturday? Well, then, I will sit on my fat ass on Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday. I will also eat junk and gain weight instead of losing. See? YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! So there!" (For the record, I'm not sure who the YOU is in these sentences. If it is somehow me, then that means I'm telling myself that I'm not the boss of myself, which is weird because if I'm not the boss of me then that means someone else is the boss of me and I don't like when someone else bosses me. Got it?)
This is what it all boils down to for me. Once something starts to feel like something I have to do instead of something I choose to do, I don't like it anymore.
So basically, I quit boot camp because I felt forced, yet had no problem jumping out of bed to do 3 miles on the treadmill this morning because I chose to do it. (Ha ha, Self. You aren't the boss of me because I am the boss of me!)
Is anyone else starting to think that maybe therapy is another thing I shouldn't have quit?

"Making a Scoop-ture"

I love their imagination. And the way Reese says "sculpture." And the fact that she's pantless and Avery's shirtless. Or the goggles. Or the Yo-Yo Ball attached to the stair rail. Or the...

Oh, whatever. You get the idea. I think they are cute. And funny. And....somebody stop me.

The Girls from the Real O.C.

I know I've skipped a few days, but I've had good reason. One, my stupid internet connection keeps going in and out, driving me crazy while I try to write and navigate this site. So I gave up.
The other reason is a really, really good reason to take a break. Girls Weekend.
Last year, three girls I went to high school with and I decided to start a tradition. One night a year, we use my husband's Marriott points for a free night at a hotel and we just hang out. No kids, no husbands, no responsibility. We can drink and no one has to drive home, which is a good thing, because nobody drinks like girls from Osage County. (Bring your own 18 pack, iced down in a bathtub.) It's either in the water up there or it's because there's nothing else to do in that small town except backroad and drink or have sex. We will not discuss the latter. At all.
Back to Girls' Weekend. The best part about this weekend is that we are all friends who have known each other for years and years but none of us are like "best friends." We get along great and pick up right where we left off when we do see each other, but we all live in different areas of the metroplex (and one of us is still living in the O.C.) so we don't spend alot of time together. Girls' Weekend is a great time for us to catch up on each other's lives and relive past moments that no one else can understand.
This weekend was perhaps the best thing I have done in a long, long time. Without going into great, dramatic detail, I'll just say that it seems that my husband and I have hit a rough patch. Some might call it the Seven Year Itch. I don't know what I call it, but it's been tough at times. I've been frustrated, to stay the least. Until last weekend. I think I can safely say that the Girls may have just singlehandedly put our relationship back on track. Who else but your longtime girlfriends can tell you to pull your head out, stop being a victim and do something about your messed up situation? Who else but your girlfriends can make you feel instantly better about your situation because they too have been there? I took everything they said to heart and began working on the situation yesterday upon returning home.
I can guarantee one thing: My husband will never be negative about Girls' Weekend after this. I think he'd be ok with me going once a month. Yikes. Once a month with the Girls from the Real O.C.? My liver couldn't take it.

.

The Mullet

Let me start by saying that my brother is not a tool. Well, sometimes he is a tool, but only when he is trying to be but then, it's not like he's a real tool, he's just acting like a tool to be funny so that means he's not a tool. Got it?
He is also NOT the type who would ever ask to be photographed in front of a car. Ever. I made him stand there and he thought it was stupid. It probably is, but I am a tool and I don't care.

Ok, on to the meat of this post. My brother, who is not a tool, is very, um, frugal. I wouldn't say cheap, but his wife might. And he drives to the big city every two days for his job as a fireman. So you know these gas prices have been driving him insane. I'm sure he couldn't sleep at night, trying to think of a way to leave the big, gas-guzzling pickup at home. He would have ridden a horse if someone had one to loan him. Or tried to find a way to use the horse's turds as fuel for the gas-guzzling pickup he has to have for his on-the-side painting gig. I know him and I bet he mentioned the price of gas every single time he had to drive to work. Every 48 hours.

And then he found The Mullet. He found this car, which, according to him, gets "unbelievable gas mileage" and he drives it to and from work. I have no idea what year this car was made or even what kind it is. I don't know where Josh got it, but someone took the time to lovingly adorn the words "THE MULLET" to the back of it. I can't imagine why. Except that maybe this car looks like the type of car a dude with a mullet would drive?

I made him pose for the above photo. He chose to pose for this next one. He said "I'll pretend I'm in high school and just got my first car." So maybe he is a tool. But in his defense, he gets it from me.

If you knew my brother, you would know how stupidly funny this is. If you don't know him you just think he's a tool. That's ok, but he's not. He just has a really good sense of humor, especially about himself. He can never be accused of taking himself too seriously.

Check out the front license plate the guys at the fire station made for him.

Ok, I don't know why it says Dirty White Boy. But I do know why there is a Huskie dog on the left. Our high school's mascot is the Huskies. So there's that. And they drew it with funny, gap teeth because even though my brother is adorable, he's been convinced that he has messed up teeth, so they made the Huskie have messed up teeth. The picture on the right is of my brother sweating. Because they've never seen anything like the way he sweats. (Our whole family does this and as a woman, it's humiliating. I'm the only one at wedding receptions who has to change clothes and dry her hair between songs.) Look back at the first pictures. The wet all over Josh's shirt is sweat from working in the yard. For about 15 minutes. So I guess the fire station guys make fun of him for that, too.

"The Real O.C" is for Osage County, which is where we are from. And it is the real O.C. If you don't believe me, just go there.

In case you can't tell, I got a kick out of the whole thing. Saturday night, we were going to go toilet papering in The Mullet, but then realized it was 2 a.m. and decided to be responsible and go to bed. Plus, it's not the most inconspicuous car in the world. I wish I had one.

Updates!

1. JF wins the Lovely toilet water because she is the only person who cares.





2. We are back from Oklahoma and I'm swimming in laundry and snuggling my baby boy, who I missed severely, any free moment I have, so I'm not posting much today.





3. My sweet nephew, RJ, is perfect. He gave everybody quite a scare and had to stay in the hospital for a few extra days, but he is at home now, doing very well. So is his momma.


Here's a picture. Couldn't you just eat him up?





That's his momma's hand. She can't stop touching him. Can you blame her?

More on our "Girls' trip" home (Rhett was sick and stayed home with Daddy) later. Including a picture of my adorable brother with his Mullet. Stay tuned!

Ghetto Giveaway

First let me make something clear. I'm not going to start doing giveaways all the time. One, because I don't have alot of money or crap to giveaway and two, I'm not trying to increase traffic on this site. Both of those seem to be important elements of the blog giveaway.
BUT, in this case, I have something I need to get rid of, I've already offered it to my sister, my sister in law already has it, and I don't know who else likes it.
What is it? A one-squirt-used 1.7 oz bottle of Sarah Jessica Parker's LOVELY.
I just got it...it's $52 at Sephora but I can't return it because I opened it and took ONE SQUIRT. I love, love ,love the way it smells in the bottle. And on the sample squirty sheet they give you. But when I put it on me, it stinks to high heaven. If you don't believe me, ask my husband. He agreed that I STUNK when I wore it.
SOOOOO who wants it? I will do a random drawing amongst the comments left for me while I"m in Oklahoma this weekend. Which means you have until Monday afternoon to get those comments in.
I know it's ghetto, but it's an almost brand new bottle of perfume that I can't do anything with. So take it off my hands and enjoy. If it stinks on you, toss it. It's not like you paid for it.