the next movement

I know you've been waiting for this day to come. And, dear readers, you know I hate to disappoint, so here it is. The first ever real live video of one of my children. I apologize for the fact that the sound is a half-second or so behind the video; I am but a girl, after all. Technology frightens me. (My kid is the one in the green shirt with the blue tie.)

Be sure to not miss the following highlights:
  1. The nose-pick
  2. The nose wipe
  3. The yawn
  4. The fidgit with the tie
After a minute, it switches to my friends' kid, who doesn't pick his nose or fuss with his apparel, and so is boring.

Enjoy, and be warned; now that I know how to do this, you bet your bottom dollar there are more a'coming.

Dear Darren,

Happy birthday. I have known you for almost four years now, and not once in that time have we had that defining moment that people have in relationships, that moment that allows me to write something terribly witty and clever for the Internet to read about you. I don't have any funny stories to share about you; I have never seen you drunk, or silly, or crabby for that matter. So, there will be no inside jokes about you today, there will be no embarrassing confessions, blog-style. There will only be this one little thing:

Dude, I seriously, painfully love you. Of all the people in my world, you are the hardest for me to put a definition on. I guess you are my half-step-brother-in-law-by-proxy, or something like that. I really don't know that much about you, which is odd seeings how long I've known you, but I do know a few things.

I know that you are probably the most honest, kind man I have ever met. I know that you are an amazing husband to my sister, I know that you are a devoted son-in-law to my half-step-parents-in-law-by-proxy, or something like that. I know that my kids love you. A lot. Especially L. I know that you have a ridiculous amount of talent up those sleeves of yours, I know that you look hot in those pants, I know that you have no reason at all to me a friend to me, much less a brother. And yet you are both things to me. I know that I would not trade you for all the tea in China. You play a much bigger role in my life than I think you realize and I just hope you know that my days are a little sunnier because of you. I watch you play with my little baby and I thank Jesus that she will always know you and always have such a wonderful, tall uncle. She will never want for kisses or for lost balloons.

The thing that I know more than anything in the world is that you will be the very best father ever in the history of fathers. I cannot wait to see you hold you baby girls. I cannot wait to watch you wipe their boogie noses and gag over their poopey diapers and put their hair in ponytails and send them off to kindergarten and walk them down their aisles. No two children will be more loved and more protected and more adored. They will write country songs about you. And don't think I'm not honored to get to be a part of it with you.

So thanks. Thanks for being a part of my little family. A big part. Thanks for sharing your life with us. Thanks for making me giggle, thanks for inspiring me.

And thanks for being my very most loyal reader. My blog loves you, too.

Happy birthday, hot pants.


you better start with the shopping

Do you know what today is? Do you have any idea what today is? It's February 24! Yippee! Today means two things.

One: I'd like to send a happy 32nd birthday to my childhood best friend, Rainy Day. I haven't actually seen her since the day we buried her mother 19 years ago (wowzas, time flies by) and I haven't spoken to her in a decade, but happy birthday anyway. Dude, I love you. So very very much. I miss you every day.

Incidentally, I'm not making that shit up. Her name really is Rainy Day. Her parents may have been tree-hugging hippies, but they're both long gone and her mother was the most amazing woman to ever walk the earth, so they get a pass on the poor name choice.

Two: The 24th of February means that there are only 24 days left until my birthday. Unless it's a leap year. Curse you, leap year. But it's not this year, so let the countdown begin.

I'd like some earrings, a CD or two, a nice pen and maybe a decent* roll in the hay. You know, if you're so inclined.

*I'd like a decent one. I would settle, however, for much, much less.

what the world needs now is cookie dough, sweet chocolate chip cookie dough

It is now officially 45 minutes past the bedtime that is set for my daughter based upon the assumption of a two-hour afternoon nap, and she is screaming her little lungs out in her crib. You know how long of a nap she had today?

Exactly no-hours. That's how many.

She has screamed much like the proverbial banshee for a good deal of our night at home. My guess is it's because that horrible girl and that hideous boy are still on American Idol. She did calm down a bit when she saw that Paula Adbul managed to tame that wild beast that took up residence on her head this week. These things concern us here at Chez Mr. Lady.

I suppose that it is admirable that a 16 month old baby found a way to go from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. with almost no peeping*, sit through an entire Cub Scout pack meeting, and still look this flippin' unbelieveably cute....

...but if you look very closely you will see that she is wearing, that's right, baby leg warmers and how could you possibly NOT look unbelieveably flippin' cute with little pink baby leg warmers? So that answers that. Leg warmers = unbearable cuteness > brain-curdling screaming and back arching rivaling Russian gymnasts.

Speaking of Cub Scouts, my sons found out that they would have to wait another month (they have already waited two) to receive their Bobcat trail badges. The reason is too dull to go into, but though B took it in stride, T took a vow of silence. And kicking. Silent kicking. The boy was mad with a capital Piss Off.

And so, being a good mother who in no way has an eating disorder**, I took them to Dairy Queen to soften the blow. I offered T a Blizzard and explained what one was, and he begrudgingly broke his vow to order one. He took one bite and stated as matter-of-factly as a pouting 6 year old can, "Well...this just changed my life!"

That's right. I changed his life. Ah, the power of a mothers' love. And frozen novelties. Mostly the novelties, I'm guessing.

*Peeping is the nice word for that noise she makes that makes me dream of the orphanage at night.

**Um, if I have to explain that one, you haven't met me.