Once Upon A Miracle

seven eve

2013-05-18T12:37:00.001-07:00

The week had been exhausting.

I don’t know how you single parents do it… but when my husband is out of town working for a week and I manage to get the kid to school with a breakfast of a granola bar and gummy vitamins, I feel like a rockstar.

And oh.my.Lord… was it ever a crazy school week.

Huge Science Fair project, check.

(which I hilariously caught another kid posing with a’la Vanna White for a picture)

Wacky Outfit Day, check.

(With a request for purple spiked hair, no less. Another sleeping picture, poor kid.)

A baseball game sans Daddy, check.

(You’re looking at the first hit of the game and scorer of two runs!)

Up before dawn. Two hours of driving each day. A fulltime job. A birthday party to plan. Mother’s Day. Meals to my mother who’d come out the losing end of a battle with her lawn mower. A Spring Musical. Is it any wonder I still looked like my post-toilet-water-battle mugshot?

The morning of his birthday party, Itty Bit was on his way to a bath.

The next thing I knew, a little streaker with a pair of glasses and cowboy hat was making bang-bang noises at his very surprised mother.

The day only got crazier from there.

We tempted fate at the bounce house infamous for our Stupid Injury collection. This time no blood or concussions – success!

You have to love that my big butt takes a couple seconds to figure out this gravity vs. bounce house thing… and the kids totally scatter.

You know he didn’t want to turn seven? Because it was an odd number? (OCD much?) Every single time someone sang to him, he had this pensive look.

Oh kid… I hope you realize soon how much fun seven is going to be!

A story in two pictures:

What’s this?

A fart bomb, of cooouuurse.

(Look at May-May’s face. I dare you not to grin)

But what I really loved?

Was the fact that a big fat twenty-dollar bill fell out of this card. And he quickly scooped it up and dropped it in front of me without hardly looking at it. He was too enthralled with a card full of pictures that were hand-drawn for him by some of his best friends.

(Of course, that twenty came in handy later when he wanted some Legos, but for that moment, I loved that he was delighted over someone’s thoughtfulness rather than the cash. I felt like a good mom for 14.2 seconds).

And then? Grandma and Grandpa pulled rank after the party.

And busted out an honest-to-goodness cap gun.

Because we don’t have enough weaponry in his life.

He didn’t enjoy it.

At all.

In a day pretty much awesomesauce for any almost-7 year old, he got to run around the field with a Transformers glow necklace and throw dandelions in a bonfire.

I think it was a modern day Norman Rockwell life.

He ended it perfectly with a clone trooper helmet in bed.

(You see why I never know what I’m going to stumble upon when I tell him to get ready for a bath or get ready for bed?)

And he woke up Mother’s Day excited to be Captain Rex again.

(What? You noticed he slept in that shirt? This is my ONE trick for restoring some of my sanity… no early morning wardrobe changes! Don’t judge :)

I really love this picture. Because we all share our birthday parties, but you can see my sister is in on the secret that we are fake-blowing so Itty Bit can have the fun.

I really heart her.

Why yes, those are pumpkin rolls. Which are heretofore our cake of choice… can you seriously beat a BACONATOR? Or chocolate peanutbutter?

Yes, Mr. Daddy was there too. Apparently partied out.

And when we attempted to get a three generation Mother’s Day picture, we got totally photobombed by the dog.

See my mom’s bandages? Gruesome injury – mowing the lawn is verboten for her from now on. I only snickered twice watching her use a walker. Poor thing was also visually assaulted by the card my sister and I gave her for Mother’s Day.

(see, there are worse things than having me for a kid!)

And that night… it was Itty Bit’s last of being 6-years old.

Through the insanity of the non-stop events that week, he found my reset button.

“Mommy? Will you lay down with me for awhile?”

I was treated to his subtle response when I agreed.

In my mind, I thought, "just a few minutes… so much to do…”

And then he reminded me why he is the king of unexpected comedy.

“Mommy, I’m totally gonna fire a missile at you! Guess from where?!?!”

And then he flipped himself back over and laughed so hard his whole body shook.

His whole almost-7-year-old silly boy body.

I gasped in mock horror, snorted and laughed, and pulled him into a hug.

His head still smelled like Baby Johnson’s shampoo (his feet were a different matter entirely), and I laid there for a long time with my thoughts.

Every few moments, he’d lift his head, look silently at me, and smile a huge grin.

My to-do list was pushed exactly where it belonged. My mind went back fourteen years to the beginning of long years of infertility. And seven years of prayers that finally stopped because they were too sad to keep praying.

And I realized that we’d come full circle – seven years with this precious miracle boy.

In a life that I never would have imagined back then, my heart is full of a family that is bursting at the seams with blessings.

And he, this crazy, hilarious, thoughtful, rambunctious comedian of mine, is an irreplaceable part of it.

He was the reason for starting this blog – so I thank you for sticking with us through it. And with much reluctance, I realize that he is not so Itty Bit anymore. May I introduce you to our 7-year old Boogadacious?

(I kid you not. He prefers the full name and is called this in real life)

Happy Birthday Boogie. Love you to the moon and back.

in 75 words or less

2013-05-08T23:22:00.001-07:00

Rachel from and then she snapped asked us to nominate deserving moms for a $50 Target giftcard.

And pretty much every single mom who reads here (and especially those who want to be moms and are waiting and praying) has something special that makes them deserving.

So in 75 words or less (brutal for someone who rambles), I wrote about our Dana.

The woman who flew across the country for a whirlwind 24 hours after learning that a (never met in real life) blogging friend’s mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and had no recent family photos.

What a godsend she was.

She captured the everyday,real, I love who you are moments.

(he’s the boy who fell in love and married her as soon as she turned 18)

(he’s the first-grader who misses his Grandma)

(he’s the kid who used to get in trouble on her bus)

(she’s the girl who needed a home and a family and found it)

(he’s her silly brother who can’t resist mischief)

These photos are achingly beautiful to me. And Dana made it happen.

We spent part of that precious 24 hours sitting at our dining room table, praying aloud for the foster child they were waiting for.

We had no idea the “child” was child(ren)!

Their rescue was a beautiful part of a heartbreaking chapter.

WNOW Test

She gives and lives sacrificially. And sometimes it’s just a quiet soldiering on… hugging children that have been broken, mending childhoods that have been robbed, speaking kindness into needy hearts.

That’s why I nominated her. And I hope you will pay forward an act of kindness and give two clicks of your time.

The votes are counted here. It’s nothing but an anonymous click (voting only up until Friday. Andale, andale!) It would make her day :)

Never underestimate how infinitely valuable you are. Others need you. Dana’s story shows it… but it happens in your life too.

xoxo

the universe listened to the wrong lady

2013-04-28T23:13:00.001-07:00

I needed a nice weekend to recover from a dumptruck of bad news.

Instead, Brandi from My Four Bubs bemoaned on Facebook how I wasn’t posting any crazy statuses (statusi?) lately.

And the universe listened to HER.

Universe, you buttshinksy traitor, you.

Of course, it was a blatant invitation for something remarkably stupid to happen to me. And if you never hear it elsewhere, you know you can always get the truth here:

CLEANING CAN AND DOES CAUSE INJURY!

IT IS HARMFUL!

AND SOMETIMES REALLY, REALLY GROSS!

I was on my own for the day with Mr. Daddy helping someone move. I plunked the kiddo into the bath where he played with approximately 119 small plastic toys and I examined the weird rust marks on the floor.

(requisite bath baby picture from ages past)

So I did what any good person at home on a Saturday does… I busted out the Clorox wipes and went to work on those dumb marks.

City Chick education here: this thingy is a toilet water supply line:

Do not touch them.

They are seriously ticked off beings.

GIFSoup

See, I bumped (literally BUMPED) it while scrubbing.

And suddenly my kid was screaming, I was screaming, and the Pacific Ocean dropped three feet and freaked Al Gore out.

Seriously, y’all. You think what flows through that tiny little ~~ticked off~~ tube is this?

No dude.

It’s this:

GIFSoup

It’s Old Faithful… right in your face.

That was me. SCREAMING as the frigid blast of Niagara Falls pummeled my tonsils with the force of 2000 dental rinse sticks.

I shook my head desperately to breathe while my glasses were slammed against my eyeballs and making a dent in my brain matter.

Through eyes that were swimming upstream the last Splash Mountain drop, I realized the geyser was coming from the FLOOR.

I grabbed that stupid angry tube and tried frantically to reconnect it.

Over

and

over

again.

Then I realized the metal had been sheared clean off.

(I’m talented like that).

I am soaked from my gray hairs to my socks with mascara escaping in huge rings under the deluge. Itty Bit is cowering at the far side of the tub screaming.

And as much as I am totally wholly utterly completely disgusted that something even remotely touching the toilet is spraying in my face…

I.cannot.force.my.lungs.to.stop.screaming.

(Instinct, y’all, instinct. As long as air is being forced OUT of my lungs, I can’t drown, right?)

As the water level on the floor begins to approach two inches (not.even.kidding), I finally do the only smart thing all morning: I find the shut-off valve through waterlogged eyeballs and desperately turn it.

This picture, as completely awful as it is… does not do it justice. My hair was dripping, my pants were sloshing, my shirt was soaked through. Every ounce of makeup pressure-washer blasted off my face. I was actually surprised to see my glasses survive the dam break.

(Love that a friend commented how I am game to post the worst pictures of myself on social media… keeping it real folks, keeping it real.)

When the spray suddenly stopped, Itty Bit and I looked at each other silently. Until both of us were able to stop breathing hard.

Key fact: Itty Bit does not like water on his face.

Hate may not be a strong enough term.

He looked at me, with the most serious confused expression and said,

WHAT WAS THAT??

I exhaled and dripped another 14 gallons of water from my hair.

“I don’t know Boogie, I don’t know”.

He looked at me in shock, then in measured tones (because my apparent stupidity was so obvious)

“Why did you do THAT?”

Oh Boogie. I don’t know, I just don’t know.

(but really, I do. Because the universe wanted me to, honey.)

because someday I’ll need to prove I was a fun mom

2013-04-22T01:25:00.001-07:00

I was determined.

With the constant stress that surrounds the “Thing We Can’t Talk About”… we were going to have ONE fun thing to look forward to.

I thought I had totally nailed it when an email came through about a monster truck show.

Who cares if I’d never been to one or even considered it.

I had two redneck boys and this had to be right up their alley, right?

Let’s just say that one of those redneck boys is a good traveler, and the other one can’t play on a Kindle and drive at the same time.

So after two months of waiting (and keeping it a secret from Itty Bit), we finally arrived to a very wet show day.

An even bigger secret was the fact that we were picking up cousin Bubba on the way and we were going to RIDE in a monster truck!

Y’all remember Bubba, right?

The dude is FEARLESS.

Itty Bit? Uncharacteristically began a mantra of “I am NOT going on that. I am NEVER IN MY WHOLE LIFE going on that.”

Guess which mean momma made him go on it?

The fist-pumping one who whooped through every wet pavement donut.

And guess which kid climbed down off it saying, “AWESOME! I am DEFINITELY going on that again!”

(Introducing “Tissy” above. AKA: favorite relative of all kids).

When our party of 13 finally took our awesome seats, the kids were ready to rock and roll.

This is what happens when Bubba is being sweet and compliant, Itty Bit is refusing to look at the camera, Cutie Left is waaay too smart for his own good (and held up a FOUR after I yelled a count of 1-2-3 for the pic), and Cindy Lou Hoo is loving on her popcorn.

Quick disclaimer: I spent more time watching the show (and generally making an idiot out of my excited self) than messing with camera settings. The show was at night and I refused to annoy everyone with flash. So please forgive for the less than stellar photos.

After Danny Bonaduce did the introductions (yes, really… it was a slightly surreal moment)… the kids looked SO SERIOUS when the show began.

But do not fear… as serious as she looks. Cindy Lou Hoo absolutely had the best time.

She was in awe – jumping and cheering for each driver.

It was pretty impressive watching some crazy skills!

I have no idea how he salvaged this… but he did.

Proof that the Grumpy Traveler had a good time.

And that his wife is apparently exceptionally pale.

And that the kid behind us isn’t half bad at photobombing.

There were many trucks that night… but I know y’all know what a monster truck show looks like. Here are just a few memorable moments:

And then? He got stuck.

Eliciting many cheers from the crowd… and…

…basically creating every redneck 6-year-old’s dream… a monster truck being towed by a crane truck. BOOYAH.

The screaming continued.

Umm y’all? The truck is ON FIRE.

ON FIRE.

Yeah, pretty much the best thing ever.

See Cindy Lou Hoo getting her cheer on?

The 16-year old driver of one of the trucks came up to give her a high-five! Pretty sure it rocked her world to see that a girl could do this!

After the winner was crowned, we had one last surprise for the kids.

I think Cutie Left pretty much summed up the whole day.

I had to laugh the next morning when Itty Bit instructed me to write something and then take his picture. Because the kid actually referred to himself as, “Itty Bit”.

Blogging family much?

That something…? Was TEN DOLLARS worth of “don’t wave that in his face, don’t flap it at her, quit snapping it around, put it down, I can’t see when you do that”.

It’s also proof that I was a fun mom.

Minus the gritted teeth as I said for the eleventieth time, “quit waving that in my face”.

What was your weekend like? Any Danny Bonaduce moments?

Shopping with children: first-grader style

2013-04-14T23:10:00.001-07:00

Somehow… I thought this shopping with offspring thing would get EASIER once we made it out of the toddler years.

You know… the one where my leashed kiddo wiped out an entire Baby Gap mannequin display. Or where he broke a cheapo candle holder at Target. And the resulting me almost dying of blood loss in the dollar section, and an employee nearly passing out.

Or when even my husband got in on the action and kicked a soccer ball into my face? Then totally ninja-photo’d me?

Or the proud parenting moment when the poor kiddo puked into his hands at Macy’s. Well, that one kind of wasn’t his fault…

Or when he mooned me? In the store? Help me.

Or the one that started it all? The infamous “craft paint lids are not childproof” (otherwise known as “Carnage at Michael’s”).

Or hey… remember this one more recently when durnitall, there was a woman in there?

(Sorry for the link overload… even just reading those has me all traumatized again).

Let’s just say that now that the kid can read, and now that he realizes that not everyone is (ahem) normal… Walmart has been “interesting”.

It was tough enough getting him to stop staring at the employee who was going for a slightly windblown look:

I hope I never outgrow the guts to try to look like Vanilla Ice after my hair goes gray. The mullet was just bonus.

And by the way, a word to my fellow photo ninjas:

you WILL get caught.

This guy totally busted me taking his picture. Just pretend you’re texting. Smile and wave boys, smile and wave (50,000 OnceUponAmiracle points for which movie that’s from).

Then came the dude who wore this glorious coral ensemble without shame. It was pure awesomesauce.

I had to turn Itty Bit away from these creeptastic blind chocolate bunnies. Who does that?

And my favorite, spending 20 minutes in line because Walmart abides by that jacked up policy of only two checkouts open at any time, regardless of a holiday crowd.

But extra time in line leaves more time to enjoy these little beauties:

Somehow, I can’t imagine this is better than bacon off the griddle?

Oh, and this assortment of chapsticks…

impressive that every single box was empty. Walmart shoppers must have exceptionally kissable lips.

But where Itty Bit made his entrance into this shopping story was at the mini-Subway inside Walmart. Where he excitedly told me he wanted to join the Subway Club.

And then got mad at me when I laughed and laughed.

(he thought it “cost” 310 calories to join the CLUB).

As further proof that shopping with kids does NOT get easier…

…at an antique swapmeet full of AWESOME stuff, the kiddo begged (and ultimately sweet-talked Grandma) for a classic eggbeater.

(Cute, except he HAS two of them at home already. HOARDER)

It was fine that everyone oohed and ahhed over him at the swapmeet.

But Daddy wasn’t keen about being followed around Home Depot with the constant whirring behind him and the attention it attracted.

Holla pained picturetaking expression!

Holla Double Eyebrows!

And Holla! Helpful Home Depot lady who thinks you’re adorable!

Tell me… are his shoes on the wrong feet? I can’t tell?

Weird expressions in stores are trending…

What are you doing, Boogie?

Seriously? What are you doing?

Ohhh.

(for the record, he BEGGED to buy that sign. THAT was a fun public fit).

For those who might accuse me of being a helicopter parent… not having eyeballs on this kid is cause for panic. A deaf mom has nothing to rely on except instinct if she loses sight of a mischievous boy!

I didn’t get a picture of his sheer terror after seeing this freaky thing at TJ Maxx. Even creepier? They had several different versions of headless robed guys. These things were like 4 feet tall, guys!

MIND BLEACH.

And for where Itty Bit gets his public antics?

Look.no.further.

I’d ask when they outgrow it, but I think I answered my own question.

What are your shopping-with-kids adventures?

(and no worries about all those links to the individual stories… you can find them all here in the Shopping With Kids series. Traumatic enough to earn its own tag… you’ll feel so normal!)

nobody said life was fair

2013-04-07T22:44:00.001-07:00

In typical OnceUponAmiracle style, this conversation actually happened in our home last week.

My boy is nothing if not blogworthy.

And since it happened while he was taking a bubble bath and begging me to read him a story… I pulled some old pictures of him in the bathtub so you could get the full experience of what this was like.

Hey Momma?

Yes Boogie?

Can I drink the water?

What?

Yeah? Can I drink the water?

In the bathtub?!? NO! GROSS!

Pleeeeease Momma?

Ahem

But whyyyyyyy not?

Because! There’s germs in it!

Germs? You drink it!

No!

But we have the same germs!

No we don’t Boogie.

Why not?

Cuz I’ve had other stuff.

Like what?

Like chicken pox.

…

That’s not fair.

What’s not fair?

You got to have chicken pox and I didn’t.

That’s not fair?!?!

This went back and forth for five minutes. Until I finally figured out that he thought Chicken Pox was a cereal.

A CEREAL, y’all!

Momma, it’s NOT funny!

Stop it Momma!

MOMMY!

I love him. I really, really do.

Chicken Pox.

It’s what’s for breakfast.

(and does anyone else know how stinkin’ awkward it is to take pictures of yourself like that?)

Smash Recap

2013-04-01T00:31:00.001-07:00

Because in about 2.5 more hours, everyone is going to be SOOOO done with all the Easter pictures online.

And if I don’t write this now, it’ll never get written.

And when I went back to last year’s post, I actually GOT EMBARRASSED about what I shared with the whole dingdong online universe.

(Caution: I’m the only one ridiculous enough to combine assault on an elderly person, a birds and the bees explanation to the kiddo, and *gasp* P00P in one blog post. Shameful. You’ve been warned).

So the assault on an elderly person last year, was my sister enjoying our family tradition of smashing blown eggs on each other’s heads. Except, she chose our 81-year old grandmother instead of any number of perfectly available non-AARP members.

So while my grandma was just as good-natured about it this year (and yes, any pictures of my sister will fall under the category of “14,237 versions of Ju’s hair)…

she had a little something up her sleeve.

Except… they both got a little surprise!

(That is my dad’s hand. He has some crazy commandment about me not posting his face on this here blog. So I’m not technically in violation for posting a limb).

But Grandma came through and Ju ended up with a double whammy.

Don’t feel too bad though - this was pretty tame in comparison to the year Murkatroid filled an egg with frosting…

(hairstyle version #592)

Normally I escape major damage by being the photog.

Brace yourself for a series of me making truly awful faces.

I apologize in advance.

Blame the husband who surprised me once I offloaded the camera.

When I attempted to retaliate… the egg painfully bounced off his noggin.

(God’ll get ya)

But justice prevailed.

And the rest of the photo overkill is to prove that the kiddos were there and cute. And that Itty Bit cannot stop making bang-bang fingers at everything since going shooting with GunDiva.

And as bad as I am in the kitchen? I brought some ingredients to the family dinner and recruited a mustachioed Little Jo to help me with some bacon-wrapped asparagus. Nobody died.

Success.

As fun as this was… nothing quite says awesomesauce like y’know… rising from the dead. I am in continual awe that the creator of the universe considers me worth that kind of sacrifice.

I LOVED this quote today:

Upon a life I did not live,
Upon a death I did not die;
Another’s life, another’s death,
I stake my whole eternity.

Horatius Bonar

How was your Easter?

you’re two. and you’re terrified

2013-03-26T01:29:00.001-07:00

So I sat on this for awhile.

You know… with that totally illogical fear that by the six degrees of Kevin Bacon, the person you are writing about will stumble upon your little blog, recognize themselves, and be totally ticked off at you?

But this is eating at me.

I’m not really offended by people who might call me a helicopter parent.

One: it takes someone who has experienced years of infertility (who WANTS a baby) to understand what it is like to suddenly have a huge miracle laying in your arms.

Two: It takes someone who is deaf to understand that my eyes are my ears… and if I can’t see or hear my child, your imagination doesn’t do justice to the guilt I feel when he IS hurt and I cannot find him.

And since most of you probably aren’t two for two on those, I don’t feel all that terrible if you roll your eyes at the tight Itty Bit radar I keep when we are out in public places :)

Scene:

A very busy children’s museum during the weekend. Chaotic would best describe it, so my job was simply to not lose track of my kid.

Who suddenly had to pee.

(of course… remember his public restrooms quest?)

Insert Helicopter Mom: there is no way the kid was going to go to the men’s room by himself in a very crowded public space.

So I ushered him into the women’s restroom – which was uncharacteristically empty.

Except for one little boy.

Insert six degrees of Kevin Bacon (or person who I’m going to tick off)

I knew this little boy.

He was two years old.

And he was crying. Frightened sobs.

Tearfully trying to shake a stall door open with real fear in his eyes.

Mama Mama Mama Mamamamamamamamamamama.

I saw his mother’s shoes behind the stall door and suddenly realized that she had intentionally locked him out.

I was stunned.

I immediately stooped down and reassured him over and over that his mommy would be right back. I tried to keep the shock off my face as I wondered why the stall door didn’t fly open for Mama Bear to check who was talking to her little one.

Somehow, the fact that he was still a breastfed little one made him seem all the more vulnerable; and the situation all the more confusing.

Recall what my kiddo looked like at two years old?

He looks so teeny. Now picture him crying his head off because he’s scared, been left alone, and now some woman he doesn’t recognize is talking to him in a strange bathroom.

The poor kid had tears and I was absolutely helpless.

I got Itty Bit into a stall and I kept an eye on the abandoned little one.

Another woman entered the restroom and sympathetically looked at the distraught toddler.

And as overly-careful as I can be accused of being, I was still trying to figure out why someone would trust a huge building full of strangers with her beautiful defenseless boy.

Call me paranoid, but as someone who has firsthand experience in vetting criminal histories for people who target these kind of places… one time is too many.

I feel ill even writing this.

And quite possibly there will be backlash in real life – depending on who reads this. I hope they know this was written in genuine concern.

What do you do?

Would you have handled this differently?

At what age do you send your son into the boy’s restroom by himself?

Am I paranoid?

(and for the record, I’m not a mean mom who takes pictures of her kid crying :) here’s the original blog post about his little freak out)

and the winner…

2013-03-24T08:58:00.001-07:00

of the free Shutterfly 8x8 photobook is…

Please check your email Sharon – Shutterfly will be getting in touch!

Thanks to Shutterfly for offering these great giveaways. Thanks to everyone who played along. It was cool to see how many great teachers you guys had. My personal favorite was my chem/phys teacher that was so good at his job that the Pentagon tapped him to come work for them.

And… because we can’t end a blog post without something humorous:

(you’re welcome for being that friend)

Take it from me

2013-03-19T22:10:00.001-07:00

When they tell you to cut brownies with a plastic knife…

to make them all presentable like

you know

instead of looking like something I planted my vegetable garden in…

…they LIE!

Despite my near flawless record for “cooking by neighbor notification”

(ie: when the smoke alarm freaks out the horses next door and the owners come tell me),

I don’t mess around with brownies.

So I tried my darndest to follow those display-worthy serving tips.

I removed the brownies from the oven (without burning myself, hallelujah!), and set to work cutting neat rows with tiny sawing motions of the prescribed plastic knife.

Umm…

What dingdong waits for a brownie to cool off before dishing it out?

The ice cream won’t get soft otherwise.

Stoopid diet wasn’t working anyway.

For a foolproof and zero-calorie treat, head on over to the Shutterfly photobook giveaway! Low entries and lots of ways to enter. And just so’s you know? You can tweet each day for two entries, and you can pick any kind of photobook… not just their new yearbook. And I pretty much wish I could give y’all one. Enter here.

the one where I don’t embarrass my husband again

2013-03-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day y’all!

(That is what happens when you have an Irish grandmother and a mother born in Texas. Holla!)

I figured I’d jump in and talk about saving you some GREEN!

I nearly fainted, when I opened an email from Shutterfly asking if we’d want to join their Shutterfly Yearbooks campaign this year.

Y’all remembered last time they tempted fate and I pulled out my husband’s yearbooks, right? And posted that really awesomesauce picture of him in ~~hot pants~~ basketball shorts that very nearly revealed his manly bits. I could be really mean and post that picture here again – especially since I owe the dude some retaliation for his Urgent Care Toe Yoga ninja picture that he hacked my blog with recently.

But Shutterfly forgave the hot pants picture and invited us to try out their yearbook for free – as well as offer one of you guys one too!

I would never do a sponsored post unless I believed in the product and Shutterfly has been my go-to for years. But in this case, Shutterfly really hits the nail on the head:

Make it a school year to remember. Shutterfly Yearbooks are the easiest way to preserve school memories.

Emphasis on EASY.

Shutterfly accounts are ideal to share in secure groups – perfect for parents to add photos of school events because an “official school photographer” isn’t always around for those moments. (You know, when you’re chaperoning the group of crazy boys at the zoo and catch that shot of all four of them picking their noses at the otter exhibit? Yeah)

You know how I usually like to kind of put our own Miracle spin on stuff? Yeah, I’m sure you guys remember the Christmas Card Debacle of 2012, right?

I could totally picture this working for our little school. So I substituted a few of our wee family members for some students to show you the kinds of easy pages they have to just “fill in the blanks”. Waaay easier than scrapbooking and this way all the families can enjoy it.

So here’s my twist on it… I think homeschoolers can get slighted when it comes to yearbooks. This would also be an ultimate way to capture your homeschooling adventure each year. Come on, it would rock, right?

Shutterfly has included Yearbook Shortcuts & Ideas (good stuff, it explains how you can tailor each yearbook to each class), and you can order them here.

Now for the giveaway deets! Winner takes home their own 20 page 8x8 photobook! You’ve already captured the memories. They’re sitting in your computer ~~lonely~~ waiting to be shared. Shutterfly can even dump them all into pages for you once you’ve uploaded them… then you can mix them around how you like.

Just to be clear… you can pick any 8x8 photobook – it doesn’t have to be a yearbook style (hint hint… all you friends with new babies!)

No going to the craft store and buying eleventy hundred cute embellishments that will make a 10” thick scrapbook that those eleventy hundred embellishments will ultimately fall out of. (Hardy scrapbookers of the world, I salute you!) Seriously, y’all remember what happened to me when I took my kid to Michaels, right? Craft paint purgatory.

So do yourself a favor and get yourself in the mix to win one of these books. Prize includes shipping!

Giveaway closes March 21st.

Oh… and I totally changed my mind.

Look at the cute guy with the knee injury ;)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

what not to do in other people’s houses

2013-03-10T22:04:00.001-07:00

more specifically… what not to do in someone’s HOUSE FOR SALE.

I would be impressed if you guys remembered the last time we went house hunting, and how we walked into a farmhouse where they had a fairly inebriated game of poker going on and dirty dishes and beer bottles piled throughout the kitchen.

I would be super impressed if you remember that epic moment our realtor went to show us the bathroom and our entourage walked in on a man (ahem) going number two.

(The most surreal part was that the dude didn’t even look surprised. Never said a word. Disturbing on so many levels).

Well, we are back into house-hunting and more mortifying experiences. Except… yours truly was the unintended victim of bathroom trauma.

And get this? The SAME realtor.

(We have to keep her forever and ever… she knows too much.)

So we happily start exploring this no-dirty-dishes-no-beer-bottles beautiful space when Mr. Daddy hears nature’s call. He heads for the bathroom while the rest of us chase a manic Itty Bit through the house.

(seriously… what is it with kids and empty houses?)

After another half hour of real-estate talk, I realize that there is no way I can make the drive home without a bladder emergency.

So I head for the same bathroom without a second thought.

I was missing several important observations.

1. There was no doorknob. This meant that anyone could see me.

2. There were no handles on the sink. No washy-the-hands = eww.

3. The water was shut off.

Of course, all of these things were duly noted much too late. I prayed no one would walk past the see-through door as I peed in record time.

Then I thanked the good Lord there was a random roll of toilet paper on the counter.

Then I zipped up at warp speed and turned to flush.

Nothing.

No stirring of the waters. No sucketh the tinkle away.

Four squares of toilet paper floated in absolute stillness… mocking me.

GAH!

I closed the lid and begged forgiveness of the next house hunters.

And reached for the sink handle.

Which… only existed in my assumptions.

So I finally gave up… 1000% disgusted that I was leaving a beautiful on-the-market home after desecrating it in such a fashion… and with bathroom hands to boot! UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!

I snorted in frustration and reached to open the door.

Except… that it was exactly like the unnoticed item #1.

It had a mechanism that actually latched.

As in: one that I had no idea how to UN-latch.

Cue panic.

I MacGyvered that thing every way I could think of. And several long moments later, I was accepting the mortification that I would have to try to either somehow escape from a second story window, or holler for the realtor to rescue me.

Y’all remember what happened last time I climbed out a second story window, right?

Right.

I had visions of Mr. Daddy unscrewing the hinges off the door to get me out, and I blanched at the thought of the endless Facebook and blog fodder that would give him.

I gave one last try and finally pinched together Part 13P2 and Part Z194 and the latch gave slightly.

It was enough!

I ran down the stairs and tasted sweet freedom and congratulated myself for escaping another family legend in the making.

Except… Mr. Daddy was smirking.

“So… did you see there was no doorknob?

And anyone could look in?”

“Umm… yeah. I saw it too late”.

“Ha! How’d you get out?”

“Ohmygosh – I had to try eleventy things until it opened. Freaked me out. I was about to yell for you guys, but…”

“Ha ha! Did you flush?”

“Umm, no. The water was off.”

“Yeah… you have to turn the water back on…”

“WHAT? You can turn the water on?!?”

“Yeah, it’s the little thing by the floor.”

“Seriously? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah… I turned it on and flushed, then turned it off again.”

“UGH! I didn’t know that!”

“You mean… you didn’t flush?”

“Well… no. I couldn’t.”

“HA HA HA HA HA! Go flush!”

“I can’t, the house is locked up now.”

I may or may not have put Ex-Lax in his coffee when we got home.

Urgent Care Yoga and other ridiculousness

2013-03-03T21:36:00.001-08:00

So last week my husband hacked in and posted a very attractive picture of his wife.

This was obviously one of the better recent pictures of me, and it triggered some apparent confusion.

Was I biting my toenails?

Was I doing yoga?

In the ER?

No worries y’all. The picture was just proof that I can be considerate of others occasionally. And my husband pulled a photo ninja on me and used his powers for evil.

Ironically, this story probably started almost two decades ago. Back when these were my footwear of choice:

I’d managed to escape most of the disfigurement caused by the body saying, “Seriously… GET OFF YOUR TOES”.

Except… for one tiny baby toe that had a wee crack where the nail had tried to divorce itself. It was so teeny that I usually just tugged the sliver of a nail out with a pair of tweezers instead of duking it out with clippers.

Until that fateful day when my body forgot to be grateful that I was no longer subjecting my metatarsals to my entire bodily weight, and instead objected to the darn tweezers.

Dumb dumb dumb. Within days my crybaby pinky toe was angry red and screaming with every step. After three days of limping, I finally caved and went to Urgent Care.

They sent us back to a room where we appeared to be forgotten for an entire hour.

In which time my husband had plenty of opportunity to mock my predicament and to remark on the questionable state of lower appendage scent.

Mortified, I gave a rousing defense of my daily shower regimen and immediately went to confirm that my bare foot was indeed inoffensive to the medical staff’s olfactory senses.

See? Considerate!

Seriously y’all… I should have smelled the trap. Pun totally intended.

Faster than a speeding shutter click… I was doomed.

Mr. Daddy started laughing so hard the racket prompted the medical staff to check in.

Thankfully, my new yoga pose was nowhere to be seen, so I didn’t risk on-site embarrassment.

He left that all for you guys.

Well… until the words “digital block” were uttered. But that’s a story for another day.

I don’t understand why everything didn’t stop

2013-02-28T21:04:00.001-08:00

It is the most bittersweet story of our family.

My sister and her husband – expecting their second baby girl.

I was eight years into being involuntarily childless – and I threw myself into being the Fun Aunt.

And then a radiology technician took a little too long.

And got quiet.

And your entire life turns upside down.

I’ve shared about Gracie before.

And you guys have been so loving, so compassionate.

Today is her birthday.

And instead of a party with her third-grade classmates, she is probably playing Guitar Hero with Moses and eating Cheetos with Jesus.

I wanted to let my sister share her with you.

So you can read in her own words what Gracie means to her.

Her gift with words. I felt suckerpunched when I read it and the loss was immediately so new again.

But do you get it?

That is real motherhood.

To sacrifice for your child.

To refuse to see only sadness, but to DELIGHT in your baby girl.

To allow yourself to fall in love because

THAT PRECIOUS GIFT IS YOURS.

It matters not that Gracie has a heavenly zipcode – her momma’s heart is every bit devoted to her.

I’m reminded again, the incredible mix of emotions I saw on my sister’s face as we stood around Gracie’s tiny NICU bed.

Pride

Fear

Wonder

Pain

Stubbornness

and

Love.

It felt like holy ground, knowing that her time was short and we desperately wanted her to feel how much she meant to us.

Completely and utterly loved.

My heart breaks at the picture of my sister and her husband holding her for the first time.

She was already dying.

And in the moments before she was gone, she loved like only she could.

We left the next day. With tiny clothes and pictures.

Pushing the hospital doors out into a windy spring day with masses of people moving in every direction – going on with their everyday lives.

And it felt so wrong.

With a box instead of a baby. And no one stopped. No one knew we were leaving our hearts on a floor high above street level. Nothing had changed for them.

But we were changed.

On Craigslist dates and other dangerous ventures

2013-02-18T10:05:00.001-08:00

What do you do when grandma unexpectedly whisks your kiddo away for an overnighter?

(with these two Toby Keith fans… I understand pizza, donuts, and Hot Wheels are also involved. Anyone else taking bets on how thrilled Itty Bit is going to be to come home?)

You strap on your personal firearm and you go meet a Craigslist seller.

What? You don’t?

Now this girl has been a Craigslist believer for awhile now. Remember this particular score?

(Let me clearly state that this is a BEFORE picture of the day we brought her home. The AFTER picture is below. I want to cry when I look at both).

But I am also all about safety.

I Google the snot out of every seller, I ask a million questions, meetings are in public places and attended by my well-armed husband.

So when we had a chance to save some major $$$, my cute date strapped his sidearm on and we hit the road to meet a guy selling one of these:

Grabbing a table at Starbucks, we started testing the gear. At one point, Mr. Daddy gave Mr. Seller some friendly advice to face me while he was talking so that I could read his lips.

OH EM GEE.

Mr. Seller suddenly decided that the fact that I’d been answering every question appropriately and speaking normally to him was not enough. He began prefacing every statement with looking at Mr. Daddy and saying, “Tell her..”

I’m sitting right here dude. Watching you say, “Tell her…tell her… tell her…” and plastering a smile on my face while Mr. Daddy tells you, “it’s fine… she’s really good at lipreading. She’s got it”.

After he says it for the eleventieth time, Mr. Daddy gives him a sideways grin and says, “If I hadn’t told you, you probably wouldn’t have even known she was deaf.”

Turns out the guy had more questions for me about my equipment than I did about his.

So the guy left the coffee shop a little richer and one lens lighter. We stayed a bit and laughed at how people suddenly talk as if I’m not there when they discover I cannot hear. Remember this woman?

Then Mr. Daddy decided to demonstrate the fine talent of drinking a caffeinated beverage sans hands.

He’s a keeper, I tell ya.

Then we detoured to exact revenge for Best Buy’s refusal to honor their price match four years ago. I don’t hold a grudge or anything…

We walked out with a big bad memory card for 40% off, booyah!

And the next stop was right up Mr. Daddy’s alley:

(We sure know how to rock a date night, right?)

Ostensibly to look for a gun for the WIFE.

Yeah, he’s a genius, right?

In all fairness, this chick is working toward shooting something a bit more deterring to the criminal element than a Canon.

After pointing guns at walls for the better part of an hour, the O Garden was next on the list.

Typical phone capture of a carb-loader interrupted:

And truly, the point of this whole post was to do some damage control because I knew that husband of mine would blog it otherwise.

IN MY DEFENSE: I didn’t want to waste anything. So, I mean, I did what everybody does… I just didn’t time it right.

So Ken and Barbie and their 2.5 kids in trendy outfits were sitting kitty-corner from us. Seriously, the guy was like a less hirsute skinnier version of Hugh Jackman, and the wife was this tiny Kelly Ripa thing.

I was doing so good… avoiding the bread, boxing up half my meal, turning down dessert.

Except, that marsala sauce was staring at me from the plate. And you know… my wallet was saying, “girl, you know that was $16 marsala sauce. You’d better get your money’s worth”.

(Your food doesn’t talk to you?)

Mr. Daddy totally knew what was coming. I mean, you remember our restaurant spit wad wars, right? He knows that “public humiliation” is totally subjective.

Especially when it comes to $16 marsala sauce.

So I used my fork to “transport” the majority of the sauce. Except, I suddenly realized that that yummo stuff was starting to leak over the edge of the plate.

So I took care of it.

As in… lifted my plate up, and ahem licked it off while turning the plate.

Seriously folks… it was a thing of precision and efficiency.

Except. Mid-lick, with the plate still over my head… I made eye-contact with shaven skinny Hugh Jackman.

Who was totally staring.

And who immediately burst into unsuccessfully stifled loud laughter.

I sat there in growing horror with my eyes wide and sauce on my chin.

I ducked my head and turned… to meet the eyes of my husband who had.seen.everything.

Oh SNAP.

By this point, Kelly Ripa was baffled by the apparent inside joke that was occurring between her husband (whose shoulders were heaving with silent laughter) and the completely red-faced girl at Table 4. Except, she didn’t realize that it was Mr. Daddy in on it too.

The two men exchanged several wordless looks that spoke volumes, and it was clear later that Hugh Jackman filled in his nuclear family about what he had witnessed.

His grade-school daughter kept pointedly giggling at me, while the wife actually seemed a bit annoyed.

The laughter simply would.not.stop; I finally convinced Mr. Daddy to bail from the scene of my humiliation.

I stood to put my coat on and quickly blurted,

“I am SO sorry you had to see that.”

Their table erupted in laughter (well, except for annoyed Kelly Ripa), and my husband then brought the house down.

“I can’t take her ANYWHERE”.

Mr. Daddy hacking in:

See what I mean?

Need I say more?

Heart day Etsy love

2013-02-05T22:29:00.001-08:00

So, I’ll just confess… I’m not really big on Valentine’s Day.

Might sort of have something to do with getting in trouble in elementary school for taking some literary license with my classmates’ valentines.

Next thing I know Mom was being called into a meeting.

Again.

Sheesh, no sense of humor.

Oh snap…Itty Bit is the same age.

He wouldn’t… ?

I’m just not all that excited about “formal” romance. Forego the fancy tiny entrees and confusing silverware… give me a pizza and the Yankees getting their butts kicked and I’m a happy girl.

I mean seriously… do y'all REMEMBER what happened last time someone gifted us a fancy spa trip?

But… I really do love when I find something absolutely perfect to let someone know I’m thinking of them.

I’ve put together some of my favorite Etsy finds – most of whom I’ve purchased from personally. You still have some time to score a sweet gift for the special people in your life.

First up is Pumpernickel and Wry:

I love that they use old serving pieces… there’s a quality to the silver you can’t find with new items. Each piece I ordered found happy homes.

For the photographer in your life:

Utterly perfect: from Longfellow Designs.

(hint hint: they also do custom wedding vows a’la chalkboard prints!)

And for a fun cards from UUPP; they carry personalized sentiments such as:

“I love you more than chocolate”

“I love you more than bacon”

“I love you more than sushi”

and of course…

And for those squirrel aficionados from our original nutty series:

Wish Daisy has the sweetest glittered miniature squirrels you never knew you needed.

I may or may not have placed mine in our nativity this Christmas.

Oh shush.

If it’s still a bit nippy where you’re at, these infinity scarves from Lovely Little Whimsy make all the difference.

And they somehow make your face look 5 pounds thinner. True story.

For the smeller in your life

(Of course that’s a word. And I bet you knew exactly what I meant)

Lola’s Handcrafted has some yummy smelling soaps. Speaking of which, Christopher in 2nd grade probably could have used this.

In trying to avoid harsh chemicals, we’ve switched to natural soaps for years now. Currently in our shower is the Honey scent (pictured above) – gender neutral and lathers up impressively.

And a longtime favorite blogger has her own shop: Off On My Tangent:

So many encouraging pieces and countless customizations!

Are you like me? Slightly depressed by wilting blooms?

Anthology on Main has gorgeous paper flowers from antique books and sheet music. Simply beautiful!

And I’m kind of breaking my own rule here… because this isn’t a shop I’ve purchased from… but come on, is this not PERFECT for the mom of a crazy little aviator kid?

It’s from HanddMadeForU and I can’t stop grinning.

For the record, if you needed a pop quiz review on why the cool steampunk glasses, check out my squirrelly model:

And Mr. Daddy? You can just click on the picture of the t-shirt. Then click on “ADD TO CART”. I left the PayPal password on your nightstand. You know… in case…

(this is not a sponsored post. these sellers have no idea I’m linking to them and I hope I didn’t embarrass them too badly. they really do rock, and I hope you find some new favorites too!)

Misery loves company

2013-02-03T07:50:00.001-08:00

or at least sleeping-crashed-out-on-someone-else’s-couch misery does.

Remember we all got sick again?

We drug (or dragged. Seriously, which one are you supposed to use?) our snot-nosed selves to my parents’ house on my Dad’s birthday.

(Remember this dude? The one who wont let me show his face on my blog?)

No worries… he was the one who shared his germs with us earlier, so we knew we weren’t going to get him sick for his birthday.

Happy Influenza to You!

An hour into the festivities, this was the scene:

Mr. Daddy had crashed. But not without Hoss the ~~Wonder~~ Lap Dog.

A little while later, apparently Itty Bit had hit a wall too.

My poor mother had gone two days without sleep and can never resist a slumbering child.

Dad and I ate our respective ice cream concoctions, took ninja photos, and poked good fun at the snoring trio.

Apparently we really know how to party.

And in a bit of seriousness… happy belated birthday daddy.

I know I was a real bugger those first 14 years (give or take another decade). I’ve always known you love me. I hope you know that I do too.

Happy Mail

2013-01-30T22:49:00.001-08:00

Would you believe it?

We are sick.

AGAIN.

I am so over this.

A medical pro asked if maybe that “thing I can’t talk about”… was causing stress to the point of immunosuppression. I had already suspected, and readily agreed. We are catching every little bug.

So it was after three days of multitasking - barking like a seal while trying not to blow bubbles out my nose (sorry) , that some happy mail arrived and sent me into a fit of cough-laughter.

Our GunDiva knows all about our squirrelly past. And her husband had nabbed some amazing swag while they were at the SHOT show.

This… is what I opened to find:

That’s right baby! Two glossy posters and two packages of peanuts. With the coolest mascot EVER!

And since Itty Bit already had a major crush on GunDiva, this pretty much cemented his plans to run away to Colorado and spend his days target shooting with her.

Between the mail, emails, Facebook messages, texts, blog comments… you all are such good therapy.

blog friends that are every bit as real as the ones you can hug.

I hope you have people just as special in your life.

And I hope you aren’t multitasking like I am right now ;)

Colorado Part Deux– aww shoot

2013-01-22T22:34:00.001-08:00

Part Uno here

(Because I’m too lazy to look up how to say “Part One” in French, though my OCD is killing me to mix French and Spanish in two titles).

So we had that crazy impromptu getaway a few months ago… shame on me for getting so behind in blogging.

The flight was a little disconcerting after seeing a TORNADO SHELTER sign at the airport…

The drive was mesmerizing. My ~~still broken~~ camera doesn’t do it justice.

Itty Bit made himself right at home at Beel & Juanita’s lodge.

(What is it with males and knee high socks?)

Oh, and he schooled every patient adult in the finer points of Cheskers…

He promptly introduced himself to each of the furry and feathered family members too. Thankfully there were no injuries to beast or child from the overly-friendly-in-your-face affection that was lavished.

And I realized later that every time I tried to take a picture of Phoenix the dove, Itty Bit was totally photobombing.
Stinker

Take one look at Itty Bit’s face here and tell me you don’t already know the story:

Heck yeah… he was totally tattling on one of the horses, ha!

Then he got some quality time with Queen Estes and her close ups.

And this dude? Has a whole sigh-worthy story of his own.

Poor GunDiva & Jay got stuck with entertainment committee duties and we ran them ragged cramming in as much fun as we could into those few days. First daylight was too bitterly cold and windy for a ride. Which suited Mr. Daddy just fine because he was pretty darn happy at the thought of some gunpowder therapy.

Seriously… the dude was SMELLING THE SPENT SHELLS.
That just ain’t right.

GunDiva’s shooting husband, Mez was nice enough to bring all kinds of firepower for the shoot-em-up fun.
I was slightly intimidated by the expert marksmen (and marksWOman), and stuck to shooting with my camera mostly.

It wasn’t long before my camera found a target… an entire family of deer were completely unfazed by the BOOM BANG POW business.
Ridiculous.

Despite my lack of skill, it’s important to me that Itty Bit knows how to handle a gun safely. We have many hunters and law enforcement officers in our lives. Knowledge is the best protection I can give him.
Correction: GunDiva can give him.

I never thought I’d say this, but I was seriously choked up at the care she took in ensuring that not only was he SAFE, but that he was LEARNING what HE could do to handle them safely.
The added bonus was that she pretty much made his whole year.

So grateful for the way she patiently taught him at his level.
He kinda sorta has a huge crush on her.

The adults managed to tear up some targets.

And one in particular managed to tear it up to the point of needing repair

(disclaimer… which I really am conflicted about even posting: I realize there are some who are uncomfortable with firearms. As big and bad as some of them looked, they all operate the same: one squeeze, one shot; just like your granddaddy’s hunting rifle. While there were plenty of smiles to go around, safety was #1. Our good friends are responsible gun owners and I wouldn’t hesitate to stand behind one of them if a bad guy was dumb enough to cross them.)

There were more adventures to be had – I am so grateful for friends who showed such hospitality!

Up next: a zoo like you’ve never seen before, Dr. Doolittle strikes, and Willie Nelson for president.

But really… my kid has pretty much been doing this nonstop for three months now…

.

Punched

2013-01-17T23:32:00.001-08:00

I wanted to write something lighthearted. You know, appropriate for a YEEHAW IT’S FRIDAY!

I’m just still feeling more than a little sucker-punched.

If you’ve been around for awhile, you’ll know that Itty Bit was a miracle after long years of infertility.

Add a deaf mother to the mix, and you have a recipe for a helicopter parent. Kinda. Sometimes.

Mr. Daddy will tell you it has not been an easy road in living with a spouse whose motto is,

“If I wouldn’t leave my car keys with them, I won’t leave my child”.

This was repeated each time we considered a babysitter, walked past the kiddie playland at Krogers, looked at schools.

Seriously, who could have measured up to grandmas like these?

So decisions about school earned extra soul-searching.

I’m not sure if Mr. Daddy actually agreed with me or simply wanted relief from his worried wife, but we enrolled Itty Bit in an out-of-district school staffed with people I’d known for 20+ years.

People I’d leave my car keys with.

I knew I felt better about where he was… but I still suffered mommy guilt for the extra hours on the road, the early morning dropoffs so I could pick him up right after school, and those days when the poor kid fell asleep in the cafeteria… ouch.

And today… came a sense of horror and relief in the same moment.

In our small community… a teacher from the local elementary school – arrested on charges of child p%rn.

Suddenly the wonky work schedules, outrageous gas budget, the extra time and money… seemed so small and worthwhile because I knew he was as safe as I could make him – surrounded by people who love God and truly live what they teach.

My heart breaks for the children from the other school who may have been hurt or exposed to this evil. For the parents who are being instructed to contact police if their child has had contact with this teacher. For the families who thought they were sending their child to a place of safety, and are confronted with a horrible reality.

I wasn’t going anywhere with this post. Except to ask for prayers for these children and families. All of these terrible things can be so paralyzing. I want our home to be a sanctuary. And to remember that

Remember when I said

2013-01-12T12:41:00.001-08:00

Well, I kinda got called out for not posting a picture of said font.

But you realize that would be just as bad as farding, right?

You heard me.

FARDING.

(I love that this word is “archaic”. I also love that I may have just found the one word that Grammar King Brian may not have already known ;)

You know… it’s too dangerous to snap a picture on my phone while I’m applying mascara, eating a Taco Supreme, shaving my legs, rocking out to Toby Keith, blindly batting at the kid in the back to stop kicking my seat, giving the stinkeye to the guy who just cut me off, waving my Taco Supreme at him, merging onto the freeway, accidentally setting off my windshield wipers, and thinking about a blog post.

Seriously, do you think I would Fard in my Ford?

So I was half laughing about this to myself the next day… when the SAME truck pulled in front of me. My life, people. Really.

Except… instead of that beautiful hand-lettering on the back, it now had a brand new PLYWOOD rollup door.

Really? Who makes a rollup door out of plywood? Apparently a local business who suddenly had their pretty font door destroyed after somebody blogged about how cool it was. Freaky coinkidink.

And umm…. I only got a picture of it because Big Macs are easier to handle than Taco Supremes.

And this is just for the “anonymous” commenter who complained that I didn’t even include a picture of her Angel Boy in the last post. So *cough* Grandma *cough*, here’s a picture of that “Angel Boy” you referred to – and what he thinks about Mommy blogging random truck pictures. He’s 3/4 of the way to a teenaged eyeroll – that ‘tude is waaay too big for a first grader.

And would someone please tell me what color his eyes are???

Who does that? The freeway episode

2013-01-09T21:18:00.001-08:00

Part Uno - THE Casa Bonita

2013-01-05T22:58:00.001-08:00

I’m royally behind. Like when you get Thank You letters halfway written and then realize four months later that you STILL haven’t sent them. And then you’re in that awkward stage where you totally appreciate the gift, but sending the card is just going to remind them that you’re a classic Martha failure.

Yeah.

Poor GunDiva and Beel and Juanita have already posted about our little escape up to their lovely stomping grounds ~~last month~~ MONTHS AGO (see how behind I am???).

And I can barely get started with the first part of our trip recap.

Let me assure you… no matter how crazy and improbable it seems in writing here… it was a million zillion times more so in person. These people seriously know how to have fun. It might help that none of us really fuss about dignity around eachother… as evidenced within the first 42 seconds of excited hugs and greetings - then turning around to see Jay relieving himself in a restaurant fountain.

Nothing like public urination to break the ice.

Our awesomesauce hosts had been convinced to endure the humiliation of an anniversary dinner at their “favorite” place. (Ahh yes, the post where GunDiva and her sibs pretty much ensured that Beel could be entitled to a lifetime grudge :)

See how cute they are?

Not telling which somebody had just licked somebody.

Then we dared to pass through those hallowed doors and be transported to a place like no other in the world.

CASA BONITA

Go back and say that again with a James Earl Jones voice and one eyebrow raised.

There ya go.

I was completely uninitiated on the legend that is Casa Bonita. As in “the neverending place that seats 1000 people, has a two-story waterfall with dive shows and skits with guys in gorilla suits, comes replete with a haunted cave, mining shaft, massive animated dragon, a wishing well with a crazy guy laughing at the bottom of it, and a million ways to get lost and suddenly find yourself in a giant fairytale ballroom with mirrored ceilings and a stage with velvet curtains.”

It was more than a little awe-inspiring to try to figure out where the restaurant actually ended.

Let’s just say my camera skills pretty much sucked with the dramatic low-light areas.

See what happens when you use flash?

Itty Bit was not excited to run poor Beel ragged all over the restaurant. Not a bit.

The dude scored mega points when he took him BEHIND the waterfall.

GunDiva did NOT score mega points when she took me through a “it’s only scary for kids” tunnel, then totally laughed when I screamyelped at a freaky monster thing moving toward me.

Seriously y’all… I thought I was going to wet myself, then I looked at GunDiva and realized that SHE was just as likely to wet herself laughing.

So we couldn’t pass up pictures in front of the waterfall. Which you clearly cannot even see in these pics.

And I am dying y’all. (You can tell, because I can’t stop using “y’all”). Beel and Mr. Daddy are pulling their “normal” act, and Jay is totally gangsta after marking the fountain outside earlier, and Itty Bit? Well Itty Bit looks like he’s having some sort of sign language Tourettes. That’s my boy.

And you don’t have to biggerfy the picture below… I’m doing that thing where I’m so happy I oversmile and give myself a couple of extra chins. Look how ridiculously cute Jay and GunDiva are!

Really… Beel and Itty Bit just pretty much walked around looking like photo ops waiting to happen.

Now read that sign again. See what I mean about GunDiva’s bladder challenge? Tsk tsk.

So after we survived the interior, we headed back out to the fountain ~~of urination~~ and attempted a photo shoot.

First it was insanely windy, so pardon the fact that I’m eating my hair in three out of four shots.

Oh look, how sweet! Beel is giving Itty Bit a coin to toss into the fountain… such a nice guy.

Waitaminute.

Seriously? Did he just put.it.in.his.pocket??!?!

I can’t see anything.

BOOGIE! You can’t do that!

And this is what he had to say about that. Can you SEE why I had no pictures to use for Christmas cards this year???

Now that I think about it… I’m not sure which was crazier: Casa Bonita or US?

Anyone else sneak away for a weekend and live to blog about it?

vs. fear

2013-01-01T18:43:00.001-08:00

It’s been a month.

The stats don’t lie.

I wrote 168 posts the year before.

And I only managed to hit publish 71 times in 2012.

A graph chart of that would look pretty pathetic. And it would closely mirror any type of calculation of peace in the circumstances of my life.

The plague of “that thing I can’t talk about” that touches every area of our lives… it instilled a fear of writing about even anything at all.

A government entity demanding your entire online profile will do that.

Ironically, because I spoke up.

So 2013? Is not going to be about resolutions.

It’s going to be about not living in fear.

And if I needed to worry that my completely amazing readers would be joined by unfriendlies looking to dig up dirt here… then I’d rather address them head-on:

I write.

About my life.

About my family.

About my friends.

About my faith in Someone who makes it all worth it.

There is plenty of dirt in my life. It’s not hidden. It’s in painfully honest words all over my blog. I am insecure, burn dinner often, have 20 pounds to lose, am graying faster than I can dye, and I am.so.tired.

Instead of fixing the situation like we trust authorities to, “damage control” has been to undermine the words and experiences of an overwhelming majority of those who have witnessed my story.

In refusing to live in fear, this is as clearly as I can put it to you:

The best risk mitigation is to ensure that this never ever happens again.

(p.s… those aforementioned amazing readers and friends will be happy to share their thoughts once information reaches public domain. I hereby give fair warning of squirrels and elbutts and people who have their own pens and readerships and inability to ignore wrongs).

Thank you for sticking with us through a difficult 2012.

And for a real part of the writing I miss? It took weeks to filter and process. And I still feel pieces of Newtown every day.

That Friday, I was at work when the news rolled in. And each wave brought more horrifying details. I felt the overwhelming need to drive to Itty Bit’s school and just hold my not-so-itty boy.

When I arrived, he spotted me from across the gym and ran full force with a scream that lasted the entire way.

MOMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

He’s done this as long as he’s been uprightly mobile. Open mouth scream-smiling as he races into a jump-hug with wild arms that swing to find eachother and squeeze the oxygen from me. At two years old it was devastatingly charming.

And at six years old, it was painfully healing to my grieving heart.

It was a wordless gratitude that the sweet first-grader in my arms… his mind had not been touched by the unspeakable horror of the day.

As I stood there surrounded by a room of running jumping laughing arguing skipping noisy children, a staff member approached me.

“I wish all kids were that happy to see their parents”.

I nodded, unable to speak as the tears spilled and I squeezed the boy whose sneakers now dangled almost to my ankles.

The nearby shooting and Itty Bit’s school lockdown several months ago were fresh in my mind. He’d walked away unharmed. And in that incredibly busily normal gym full of crazy kids… I hugged and hugged my son and ached for the parents who were being utterly broken.

I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to be more intentional. Grateful. And I have 216 Lego injuries to prove it. Life is so incredibly short – and each of you readers have been a huge part of the good in mine.

2013 is going to be good. Awesomesauce even.

What does your 2013 hold?

It’s no secret

2012-12-02T15:04:00.001-08:00

I’m a fan of good customer service.

Let’s just say that when something goes wrong with important stuff like oh… CHRISTMAS CARDS… it’s harder for a deaf person to find ways to communicate with a company who first messes up, then keeps telling the deaf customer to CALL THEM.

Not mentioning names (ahem… ends with FISH and starts with SNAP, ahem), but delays are the last thing you want to worry about when in the middle of holiday prep. I know there are more important things…. but I didn’t want to be THAT person whose Christmas cards arrive on December 27th.

Let’s be honest: I kinda glaze over at those sponsored posts where someone rah-rah’s about a company. And yeah, Shutterfly is giving me a purchase credit to write about them (awesomesauce!). But really – have you SEEN the kind of embarrassing posts I’ve put out? Shutterfly probably flinched last time I blogged about them and included a picture of my husband in his high school hot pants outfit.

But somehow the holiday spirit of amnesia worked in my favor and they apparently forgave and forgot ;) My husband; however, has neither forgiven nor forgotten that I published that photo (not awesomesauce).

Don’t y’all think it’s way more fun to see samples of Christmas Cards with people you actually know? I put together some possibilities for this year. Just ignore the fact that some of these photos are not from this year. Because, my friends, 2012 was not kind to my hair. Or my face that can’t decide between wrinkles and acne. Or that 6-year old baby weight. Or my camera that broke.

Oh who am I kidding?
I’ll apologize in advance if this is what you get in the mail this year:

But let’s put the weight of happy family representation on the cutest member of the family:

And just for you… I’ve linked each picture back to where you can find it on Shutterfly. Just click on it and it’ll take you to where you can customize it for your own family. Cuz it would be kind of weird if you used ours.

Shutterfly’s special offers are here – or connect with them on Facebook.

Now I’m off to look into making this the official one for this year…

Are you doing Christmas cards this year?