Happy Birthday?

Poor Chris...  Today is his birthday.  He had plans.  He took the day off.  (which he never does.  ever.) He was going to spend the day working in the yard.  (Bliss.)  We even had a sitter for tonight so that we could go out for a birthday dinner.  Just the two of us.

But instead...

He cleaned up Max puke.

Awesome.

Happy Birthday?

Yes.  Minus the Max puke.  Happy Birthday to the best husband and daddy the world has ever seen.  We love you!

Homecoming

Daddy has to work out of town sometimes.  We all really miss him when he's gone...  But it sure is great when he comes home!

Weekend Getaway. With Ryan Seacrest.

As soon as Lucas was finished playing his festival on Saturday, Chris and I loaded up the minivan and drove far, far away...  (I don't have a name for the van yet, by the way...  I'm thinking maybe, The Mom-Bomb?  Van-tastic?  It's a work in progress.)  Chris's mom and dad came up to stay with the boys while we were gone.  They had four children themselves, so they're not too terrified of our brood.  But I do think those 36 hours were loud...  And they are a little older, and much nicer than they were back then...  Like Bill Cosby says, they're old people trying to get into Heaven.  So...  I think there was a little bit of chaos while we were gone.  But Nonna and Poppa handled it with great grace.  Everyone survived the 36 hours.

While our children were being tended to by grandparents and a couple of poodles, Chris and I headed to Dallas.  Chris has been working like a dog at work.  I've been working like a dog at home.  (Consequently, the dog doesn't work at all.  He just sleeps on our bed and eats food Harry feeds him from his high chair with his chubby little fingers.  Free loader.)  

We just wanted to get away for a night, stay at a nice hotel, go shopping and eat good food.  That's all.  Chris was in meetings all last week, so we didn't really have much time to discuss plans.  He texted me, "Book us a room anywhere you want to stay.  Really.  Anywhere.  I don't care how much it costs."  Ummm....  Okay.  So I did.  I managed to find the only 5 star rated hotel in the great state of Texas and book us the "Get Away" Package.  It was...  quite a splurge.  But, let me tell you...  I am not sorry.  Not one bit.

We scrambled out of the van, disheveled and a little frantic, not used to the polite efficiency of valet parking, then walked into the beautiful lobby and checked in.  "Come on, let's go stand next to the fire".  said Chris.  But I couldn't.  I was standing in the middle of the lobby.  Very pregnant.  Hair frizzy and unkempt from the five hour drive.  My head cocked to one side, and a very confused look on my face.  And clutching my knitting bag close...  It was the only thing I thought about grabbing as we scrambled out of the van.

I was very confused.  Because this guy was in the lobby.  And I knew I knew him from somewhere...

Disheveled.  Confused.  Frizzy haired.  Knitting bag.  And just standing there staring at Ryan Seacrest.

I.  am.  so.  cool.

"Is that Ryan Seacrest?"  I whispered to Chris, when he finally managed to drag me over to the fireplace.  I wasn't starstruck, just really confused.  If it would have been someone like, Sting, or Paul Simon, or Aretha Franklin, or Steven Spielberg, or anyone from the cast of Downton Abbey...  Then I would have been starstruck and made a right fool of myself.  But, thankfully it was just Ryan.  (No disrespect Ryan, dear.  I know you work hard, and you're probably a real stand up guy.  But Honey.  You're no Sting.)  So instead of humiliating myself, I just stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, staring at him.  Mouth agape and clutching my knitting bag.  whew.  Lucky for me it wasn't Sting, or that might have been embarrassing.  And by the way, he's taller in person than he looks on TV.  Just a bit of trivia.

So for the rest of the weekend, anytime Chris mentioned the name Ryan Seacrest, I would make this face.

And maybe almost pee.  Maybe.

Great time.  Lovely hotel...

And two amazing meals...  The kind of meal that is somewhat of an emotional roller coaster...  While you're eating it, disbelief.  Joy.  Bliss.  When it's over, weighty sadness.  Because it's over.  And you will never get to eat that exact meal again...

Which is where these unbelievable macaroons come in handy...

Whoops.  Someone said, Ryan Seacrest again.

Great weekend.  Thanks, Nonna and Poppa.  Thanks, five star hotel.  Thanks, Chris.  Thanks, Ryan.

The Possum

Saturday evening we had a little fall fellowship shin dig at our church.  Nothing big, nothing fancy.  Really just an excuse to get together and eat.  Which is just how we do things...  If we aint a churchin', we're a eatin'.  Dig.  So, anyhoo...  We got home and Chris was upstairs getting the boys to bed.  I went out into the garage to get my leftover food and dishes out of the car.  Our garage isn't huge, so I opened the door so that I wouldn't hit it with the back hatch of my Honda Pilot.  (My trusty, loyal Honda Pilot that is about to be replaced my a minivan because I am a hardcore breeder.)  As I was loading up, a giant, ferocious man eating possum came tearing around the corner with a hunger in his beady eyes.

Okay, not really.  He was gray and cute.  About the size of my dog.  But even though he was poodle sized and cute, I knew I didn't want that guy in our garage.  And he was walking up like he had lawfully rented a room there.  "No.  No, no, no, no!"  I firmly told the possum.  He totally ignored me.  Just like my children. "No, No, No, NO!!!"  I repeated.  He never looked up at me, (granted, I am not fully informed on the anatomy of the noble possum, his face is really close to the ground... Perhaps his little neck can't bend that way.) but he just hung a sharp right and started heading up the sidewalk to the front door.  Impressed with my wild animal taming abilities, I hurriedly shut the door of the car and quickly shut the garage door and headed into the house.  Chris and I had a good laugh over my stern possum reprimanding skills...  Not everyone can do it you know.  It's a gift.  You've either got it, or you don't.

The next morning, I had to go to the garage for something.  I thought it smelled a little funky...  But dismissed it.  I was probably just being paranoid.  But I was quick getting food out of the freezer, because I felt like there were beady eyes on me.  And that someone was contemplating biting my ankles.  Kinda gave me the heebie jeebies.  We were almost ready to go to church, Chris was getting little boys in the car.  He came in and said, "The possum is in the garage."  

"But I specifically told him not to."  Why doesn't anyone do what I tell them??!!!  It's maddening.

Chris could tell that he was in there because there was some paint cans knocked over, and there was a big pile of stinky possum poo.  That was the funk I smelled earlier in the morning.  Possum butt.  And let me tell you, Gentle Reader.  It is an unmistakable odor.  Once you get a whiff of possum butt, you will never be the same.  I started to panic a little.  I didn't know what to do with my hands.  possum in the garage.  possum in the garage.  possum in the garage.  possum in the garage.  I guess that in the two seconds it took me to walk to the garage door button, he had turned around and snuck in.  Or he got in after I pushed the button, all stealth like.  Jumped over our high tech suburban garage door sensor Mission Impossible style.  Maybe his turning and walking up our front sidewalk was just a ruse...  He really fooled me, that tricky little possum.  All right, lady.  You told me No NO NO.  I guess I'll just leave now.  La-de-da-de-da...

He was cuddled up on the bag of the lawnmower.  Just made himself at home and found a little possum hammock.  He pooped twice, rummaged through a bunch of stuff, and made the garage smell like possum butt.  All of that is really tiring, so he needed a comfy place to rest.

After consulting a website called, Possum Lovers, Chris just rolled the lawnmower out into the driveway.  I was standing in the garage with a broom playing defense, making sure he didn't run the wrong way and into the abyss of our messy garage to hide in there and rub his smelly butt on anything else.  Our plan worked.  He bared his teeth at Chris and surfed the lawnmower into the driveway.  Then he jumped off and ran into our neighbor's bushes.  And now their box woods smell like possum butt.  Sorry...

Fare thee well, sweet possum.  May your road be straight, every garage door be open to you, and your lawnmowers be plentiful.  May you never be without a cozy place to stink up with your unbelievably noxious possum butt.

Father's Day

I can't possibly ever be nice enough to Chris.  I can't.  Just can't.  He's too good.  The boys and I made him a few hand made gifts for Father's Day (Which I don't have pictures of.  Because I'm tired.), and I cooked some yummy food...  but it still can't possibly be enough.  They really do have an amazing Daddy.  sigh...  I'm on lucky lady.  

Chris's Father's Day card

Chris's parents and baby sister came up yesterday to celebrate.  We grilled meats on sticks.  Meats on sticks!  Hooray for Father's Day!  Meats on sticks!  Again, no pictures of anything...  I guess I'm tired.

Hope everyone had a great Father's Day weekend!

Nine Years

Nine years ago today, I really had a good head on my shoulders.  I did something smart.  Super human smart.  I married Chris.  Good call, self.  Good call.

 It's been a nine year long slumber party with my best friend.  We should get best friends necklaces...  I guess our wedding rings will do.

 Happy Anniversary, Chris.  You're the cat's pajamas.  My best friend in the whole wide world.  You should write a book on how to be the best husband.  And devote an entire chapter to hash browns.

Next year, we're leaving the kids with your mom.

Family Wall

Ahhh, yes.  The family photo wall.

Every Grandparent's hallway has one.

Do you have one?

I have...  ummm...  several.

But this is the newest installment.

It makes me smile.

I got the idea last summer when I was at Ashley's house for a SnapShop photo thing-a-mi-jig workshop.  That would be the very technical name for the photography workshop that Ashley teaches out of her home where she shows kids like me how to work all the pretty buttons on our cameras.  (She is doing an online course soon, and you should so.  totally.  do it.)

You can see her family photos here.

I loved, LOVED how fun and sweet they were...  so I decided to do something similar at my house.

Fast forward a full year and one baby later...  sniff sniff...  look how tiny and squalling he was!

I gotch-yer crazy right here...

Watch out, he bites.

Poodle goes right in the middle.  Like Alice on The Brady Bunch.

Silly family = silly family photo wall.  It's how we roll.

I'm linking up with Emily's blog today!  Now, go take a silly photo with your kids!  Go!   Run!  Soon they will be off at college and not call you enough!  Go have ice cream!

Hey, Chris. Happy Anniversary.

"Oh, you're engaged.  How exciting."

Then, in the next breath...  The heavy stuff.

"So.  Are you on the same page about finances?  Never, ever say anything bad about your spouse to their family.  Ever.  Take time for you as a couple.  No matter how many good friends you have, or how much your family grows.  Take time for the two of you."

Clifford and JoRetta.  Unbelievable couple.

Unbelievable.


We went to them as soon as we were engaged to tell then our happy news.  They were so excited for us.  They shared in our joy with their whole hearts.  They were also very practical.

Chris and I have thought about the advice they gave us many, many times.

Apples of gold.  Pictures of silver.

The thing that has stayed with us maybe the most, and brought us the most joy...

They told us to not believe all that nonsense everyone says about our first year of marriage.  That is is so hard, such an adjustment, so much work...  It doesn't have to be.  It can be wonderful.

And it has been.

Eight years of hanging out with my best friend.

Eight years of laughs, hugs, inside jokes.

Eight years of bursting into song.

Eight Christmas mornings together.

Eight New Years Eve kisses.

Our family has grown a bit since we said "I do" eight years ago today.  Things around here can get a little hectic.  Messy.  Loud.  Buried in laundry.

But.

But.

It started with just us.


Today is a great day to remember how we started.

Us.


Happy Anniversary, Love of my life.