It's Business Time.

In honor of my NINTH wedding anniversary tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sending this looove letter and song out to my honey. So avert your eyes to the sappiness and squishy heart love if you can't handle it... ya, you know who you are! Just get outta here...

Bahz,

I know our 'business' time has changed a little since that fateful day 9 years ago when we said "I do" next to that beautiful creek in Sedona... I mean now we've got 2 kids to pin down to brush their teeth, and your toe nails to clip, and bills to pay, and Idol to watch. The list goes on. But I can assure you, when I see you comin' at me with your Breathe Right Strip on (ya, that's right) and your bite guard in to prevent your teeth from grinding, all I can think about is... "wow... that's MY man!" And I'm sure that over the years, you've come to appreciate my Thermal Fusion Enzyme Masque face and my toussled hair tied in a messy bun and my still-sexy-maternity-sweat-pants-that-are-too-comfortable-NOT-to-wear-
even-in-the-summer slinky outfits.

And according to our "Business Schedule", tonight it's "time" baby. So I throw this little love song out to you as a precursor, my love... to let you know that even though I'm always tired, I still think you're all that, and one hot husband - even more today than 9 years ago.

I love you Bab (pronounced Bob). Happy Business Time, Honey.

Random Thoughts.

1. I will officially NOT be boycotting American Idol since my honey David Cook won. I was completely ready to never watch it again if little Gomer Pyle Archuletta was victorious. Praise God. There is some semblance of sanity left in this world. Now moving on to "So You Think You Can Dance?" I know I can, so I can't wait to see these losers try and show me up tomorrow.

2. Can you tell my 4-year-old is a chef in the making (or that we watch too much Food Network)? Today, she and I were enjoying a mommy-daughter moment of mani's and pedi's on my bathroom floor in preparation for her "Moving Up" program at preschool tonight, when I started filing her nails with my nail file. I asked her to run and get the clippers and off she went, but not before saying, "Mommy, I'll go get the clippers and then I'll come RIGHT back so we can finish zesting my nails!"

The End.

The Sad, Sad Toilet - A Memoir

Hello dear readers. My name is Toilet. I've enjoyed a good life with Mommica, Husband, Princess and Prince. In fact, I remember the day Husband picked me out at Home Depot... I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be picked! I live in hall bathroom now, and while things are a bit more eventful at times now that the children are in the world, I'm quite happy. I'm used often and have witnessed some gruesome, and some lovely things in my short life.

The lovely things? Oh I remember Princess's first time on me. She called me the "big girl potty" - ah, the celebration, the tears. Prince's first crying when placed upon the "big boy potty" (he's not ready for me quite yet). Mommica's many nights sitting contentedly on my lid while we watched the kids bathe happily in the tub. The Prince hands splashing around in my water before Mommica comes and scolds him. Yes, I've seen some sweet times.

I've also seen some dark times. Times I don't wish to recall. And yet, something keeps bringing me back to that terrible place. In fact, I still have nightmares about it all when it happened the first time ... I was alone... disassembled like some two-bit appliance thrown in the yard where uncivilized animals go to the bathroom. No love. No TP. Husband had to unscrew every bolt, loosen every seal and pry me off the wall... taking me from my home, only to shove things up my pipes I had no idea could be shoved there. Yes, I was returned to my home, feeling cleansed and a bit free-er. But I cannot bear the thought of another cold, dark night when I'm ripped from all that I know and love about my life in hall bathroom.

You see, the Prince likes throw toys in water... all water - whether it's a mop bucket, the dog water bowl, or my beloved bowl. He callously laughes as he watches them go 'bye-bye' into the abyss that is my pipes. But he doesn't know the torment he puts me through. And as hard as I try to flush the toys and avoid the hell that's sure to follow, it's to no avail. He doesn't hear Husband swear like an emotionally-charged premenstrual woman who's just run out of chocolate ice cream, when he sees me overflowing from clogged pipes. The Prince just thinks its all fun and games.

And yet... here I am again. Brutally torn from my safety. My home in hall bathroom. Damn that doll shoe and bracelet that I could not pass. My only hope is that Husband will remember the good times we've had. The clean flushes. The quiet mornings reading together. Will I ever be allowed to return? Not if Prince can help it, I fear.

Dinner Conversation

Conversation with my 4-year old at dinner tonight:

(E): "Mommy and Daddy, do you know what a special day I'm going to have tomorrow?"
(M&D): "No, tell us!"
(E Waiving her arms, gesturing with both hands and using little mouth clicks while nodding her head as if saying "yep, yep I know exactly what I'm saying"): "WELL, I'm flying to California and I'm running late so I'm taking all my kids and (insert brother's name) and we're going to stay from the 17th to the 16th. And Kiki and Mary (dolls) are coming with us and Kiki is going to fall asleep on my lap and (as she pulls down the top of her tank top to expose her chest) she's going to drink my milk from my 'thing ' (pointing to her "nibble") and then her father is going to hold her."
(M&D): "Who's her father?"
(E): (flicking her pointer finger toward her brother) "That guy."
(M&D understandably grossed out): "oh."

Cute cuteness

Yep, I'm a little late in posting some of these Easter pics, but they're too cute, so here they are. Feel free to ridicule me for my tardiness.

Wo... trying to hold fuzzy bunny and drink... do NOT let go of that Mimosa...wo.. wo...

Again. Not letting go of the Mimosa.



"Uncle J, I'm about to throw up on you. Yes, yes indeed I threw up. What would an outing be without me throwing up on my nice clothes?"

"Oh little bitty bunny. You will be mine. I will love you. And kiss you. And squish you. And never let you go." (And then I'll hold you by your ears and drag you around until you scratch my eyes out trying to get away.)

"Oh, mommy I love this baby bunny so much that I will take him home and force him to be my baby doll slave bunny."

I Sty Something In My Eye and Other Funny Games

I believe I'm developing a massive sty in my eye. And truly, it's developing a life of its own. In fact, its likely going to be so large that it quite possibly will become my eye. How do I know this, you ask? Well, when I bend over to pick something up (read: every toy we own thrown all over the house) my eye feels like it has its own migraine. I'm thinking I'll look something like this tomorrow...
OR possibly more like this...


OK enough about my ugly eye-ness... I have a surprise for you! I have a Guest Blogger today! My SIL. Melissa. She rocks and I knew when I held her hair back while she was puking the first time I met her that we were meant to be SILs forever. Love her. Here she is... pay attention.

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Greetings!

So here we are enjoying the heat of Arizona as a welcome change from the cold of Colorado and my SIL tells me that I'm going to be her guest blogger today. Now don't get me wrong, I love reading her blog and even posting comments on occasion, but...I've never actually written a blog before. So, I've been pondering all day, 'what on earth am I going to write about?' So, I've decided to write about one of the things that makes me unique. I have 2 toes, that's it. Not like 2 toes on each foot, but 2 toes total. Technically, I have the 4th and 5th toes on my left foot, nothing on the right. To make a long story short, I had an "accident" that involved a blizzard, a creek, and spending the night at 10,000 feet in 10 degree weather with bare feet. That was May 20th, 2001.

I have always had a sense of humor about my feet, something I get from my dad (he's got a million jokes about "under toes, toe heads, etc." If I have an opportunity to set up a joke that involves my feet I'm all over it. For example, the time I was snorkeling with my husband and told some kids that the sharks got my toes. When my niece was little I would show her my feet and ask her where my toes were and help her look for them. I have to say, kids LOVE my feet (my nephew was just kissing and caressing them yesterday.) I teach elementary school and I've actually had students tell me that my feet are "cool".

Anyway, what's fun for me is that my son (and daughter) has never known me with more than 2 toes. That's just the way his mom is. He's 3 now and he just asked me for the first time where my other toes were. He hadn't realized before that most people had 10 like he does. I hope that on some level it will make my kids more accepting of people with differences. I'm also teaching them that it's okay to ask about something if you see it (ie. "what happened to your toes?") I would definitely rather have someone ask me about my toes than stare. I'm different and I'm proud of it!

Note the pedicure left over from Valentines.

I hope you've enjoyed your guest blog, thanks for listening.

Merci Beaucoup

My sweet blogger friend Angie from Keep Believing is passing along this bling because she said I make her smile. How great is that??? How amazing is it to have someone tell you that? I mean, the best feeling a person can have is when something makes them smile or laugh, so I am beyond honored with this award.

But, sometimes all I can do when I read her blog is cry. I mean - she is a wonderful writer and a very funny person, but she and her husband and two boys are dealing with a Herculean mountain to climb in their lives. One that is not deserved, nor pleasurable to climb. This mountain is a brain tumor inside her husband's head, and she and her family are taking a beating right now. But I'd like to share something with you...

I had the pleasure of hearing someone speak at a conference I was at this past weekend, and it opened my eyes. His name was Eric Weihenmayer and if you haven't heard of him, he's the only blind man to have climbed the "Seven Summits" which include the world's highest and deadliest mountain, Mt. Everest. His message was simple. The famous saying, "Seeing is Believing" has it all wrong. The truth is Believing Is Seeing. I say he's exactly right. This man has done what no other person in history has even attempted. And even after failure upon failure, his BELIEF is what propelled him through the agonizing pain, the beatings on the mountain, the doubters, the blood shed and the heartbreak, until it nearly killed him. But. He. Made it.

So I'd like to ask you all to KEEP BELIEVING too. Angie's husband received some not so great test results this past week, and they need uplifting. Big time. So instead of doing the usual passing along of this award to a deserving blogger in appreciation of receiving it, I'm going to give it back to her to keep. So visit her blog and send her some believing love. Because imagine your life with a mountain like this right in the middle of it. I'll ask you all this week to really Believe together that our God will heal this dear man and give this family a miracle.

As Angie always says... Keep Believing!