Honey, I'm Home

The husband has now been off of work for five days.

And we haven't done anything.

Which is so incredibly weird for us.

Usually if he's off of work for vacation time, then we are traveling. Sleeping in different beds. Eating different food. Packing on the miles to Ye Ole Red Bombe.

But during these five days, the only time that any of us left our premises was to go to a baseball practice, to Wal-Mart, and to the Farm Store. Oh..and the one time that the husband got called to work at 3:00 in the morning in the middle of his vacation. But that's a sore subject. We're not to discuss it. Ahem.

We've played outside a lot.

We've worked outside a lot.

We've worked on the remodel a lot.

We've watched a lot of television. Some mindless. Some not. (Like that documentary on medieval torture devices...which I'm pretty sure the husband was watching with thoughts of that whole 3:00 a.m. work call thing.)

We've played lots of board games.

But, really, that's about it.

No laundry. No cleaning. No extreme cooking (oh, wait...I don't do that anyway.) No taking the trash out.

The house in a word: GROSS.

Why? I mean, I've been home all.week. With no school to worry about and lots and lots of hours to tend with. So why in the world isn't everything shined and polished and spotless?

I have a theory.

It's because THE HUSBAND IS HOME.

I can.not.clean.when.he's.here.

I just can't.

And it's not that I'm all huddled up on him. He could be outside mowing and I am physically unable to lift a broom or dust rag. His presence in the vicinity renders me absolutely helpless when it comes to my regular chores.

So what do I do?

Spend all of my time helping him clean his stuff. (He and I have a deal: I get the inside of the house; he gets all of the outside junk important matters.) I've cleaned out flowerbeds....his job. I've cleaned up the yard....his job. I've helped him work on the batting cage...his job. I've painted stuff....his job.

And yet Mt. Washmore is growing legs in my laundry room. I've had to rewash the same load of laundry 3 times because I keep letting it sour. There are critters growing in our toilets. And it is advisable to not walk barefooted across our floor...something might reach up and grab ya.

I've discussed my theory with some of my peeps and they have the same trouble.

What about you? And what do you do about it?

Because I need to figure this out...or I need to start praying heavily now over retirement.

He's My Lobster

I just realized that I totally bypassed Valentine's Day.
Get it? 

Bypass?  On HEART Day?  Crack.Me.Up.

Well, I didn't really bypass V-Day...not in real life anyway.  Just here.  Like here.here.  I didn't blog about my Valentine.  I didn't say anything about my husband.  Sheesh.  Some sweetheart I am.  I should be tar and feathered. 

So....in honor of the husband who is my for-better-or-for-worse-better-half Valentine....I give you:

Fascinating Facts About Me and the Husband That You Had No Idea You Were Missing Out On But Now Your Life Will Be Complete Because of This Post.

You're Welcome.

1. What are your middle names?

• His -- Matthew
• Mine -- Janell  (I usually spell my name JANELLE, with an E, because it's more romantic like "Anne with an E" from Anne of Green Gables.  Not sure why my parents named me just plain ole boring Janell.)

2. How long have you been together?

• Married?  12 years. 1 month. 3 weeks. 4 hours. 12 minutes. & 8 seconds. 
• 9 seconds.
• 11 seconds.
• shoot....you get the idea.

3. How long did you know each other before you started dating? 

• Exactly 4 school years.  I met him on the first day of 9th grade, and we started dating on the night of our high school graduation. 
• A collective "Awwww" is appropriate.  Go on.  I'll wait.

4. Who asked who out?

• Neither.  We just kinda ended up together.  We were one of "those."

5. Whose siblings do you see the most?

• It's a toss up.  We're one of those families where no one lives in the same town as anyone else, so it's pretty tit-for-tat.  Just depends on the weather and price of gas in Norway.

6. Do you have any children together?

• Um...you do know what blog you're reading, right?  But, I'll play along. 
• Yep.  Kids.  Three of 'em. 

7. What about pets?

• Velvet -- the black lab puppy we found in a ditch.  She died.
• Daisy -- our sweet yellow lab that was our first pet as a hitched couple.  She died. 
• Lucy -- a black lab that was the spawn of Satan.  She died.
• Seeing a theme here?  Moving on.
• Ty and Puddles -- my dogs from my parents' house that moved in with us.  They died.
• Einstein -- our turtle.  He was set free.  But I'm sure he died.
• Luke Skywalker -- a cat.  He got in a fight with another animal; lost his bottom lip.  And then he died.
• Ozzie -- our golden retriever.  Best dog EVER.  Had a run-in with a car and the car won; left him with 3 legs.  He's been missing about 5 weeks now.  We're very sad.
• Lunabelle -- our Humane Society dog that we considered ours for exactly 25 hours.  Then we took her back.  She is still alive.
• Indiana Jones -- our cat.  He's still alive.
• We don't have the best luck with pets.  But we're nice people, wear our seatbelts, and occasionally give money to charity.  Don't hold our animal inabilities against us.

8. Did you go to the same school?

• We went to the same High School.  We fell in love in Spanish class.  And I used to borrow his way cool silk shirts.  Holla.

9. Who is the most sensitive?

• The husband has a way sensitive nose.  Like don't even dare touch it with the tip of your pinkie or he will come unglued and slug you.  You think I'm kidding?  Just try it. 
• But I think the question means feelings and lying-on-a-couch-talking-to-a-legal-pad and stuff.  Me.  Definitely me.  It is possible that I cry often.  But not as much as the husband if you touch his nose.  Just sayin'.

10. Where do you go out to eat most as a couple?

• That question insinuates going out alone as a couple.  That doesn't happen. 
• So....McDonald's.  For Happy Meals.

11. Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?

• Vancouver.  Eh?

12. Who has the craziest exes?

• I plead the Fifth.

13. Who has the worst temper?

• Me -- about stuff that doesn't matter
• Him -- about stuff that does

14. Who does the cooking?

• I guess I do, but I don't really call what I do "cooking."  It's more "dump stuff out of boxes into pots."  But we'll call it "cooking" if you want to.

15. Who is more social?

• Um...that would be me.  The husband would be content to never come in contact with another human being for the rest of his life. 

16. Who is the neat freak?

• We both like things neat, but neither of us freak out if things aren't.  Praise.the.Lord. because neat doesn't happen around here very often. 

17. Who is the most stubborn?

• He is.  No question.  Although he lets me have my way a lot.....Sucker. *wink*

18. Who hogs the bed?

• Him. Him. Him. Did I mention Him?  No? .....Him.

19. Who wakes up earlier?

• He's going to want me to tell you that he does.  Because he gets up at 6 a.m. every morning to go to the gym.  Truth is:  the alarm is on my side of the bed because he can't hear an alarm go off.  So that means I have to get up every morning to get him up.  The things we do for love.

20. Where was your first date?

• I don't remember.  Shameful.  I do, however, remember the night that we "hooked up."  That's something, right????  It was at our Project Graduation, and the next morning we went and ate breakfast together at Steak-n-Shake.  Romance over a plate of skinny fries at 7 in the morning. 

21. Do you get flowers often? 

• Nah.  But that's alright.  I'd rather buy new shoes.

22. How long did it take to get serious?

• Um.....started dating at the end of May.  Engaged in November.  What do you think?

23. Who eats more?

• I can hold my own, thank you very much.

24. Who sings better?

• We both think that we sound marvelous.  No one else seems to agree with us.

25. Who does the laundry?

• I can count on one hand the loads of laundry that the husband has done since we got married.  And those were only because I was out of town, and he wasn't at his mama's house.

26. Who’s better with the computer?

• If you're talking techy?  Him.
• If you're talking socially?  Me. 

27. Who drives when you are together?

• The husband.  But I will take the wheel if he is dead tired.  But I don't know why I do, because he rarely sleeps when I'm driving.  Apparently he doesn't appreciate my skilz.

28. Who picks where you go to dinner?

• That would be me.  Because I'm a princess.

29. Who wears the pants?

• I prefer a cute summer skirt, thanks. 
• Kidding....he does.  And he grunts and beats his chest, too. 

30. Who has the better sense of humor?

• Not a day goes by that I don't giggle at that man. 

31. Who eats more sweets?

• Again.  I plead the Fifth.

32. Who cries more?

• I'm a faucet. 

33. What's your favorite tv show together?

• We used to be very mature tv watchers.  Very grown-up shows like CSI and NCIS.  But then I dragged him to the dark side of Reality TV.  Muahahahaha.

34.  Would you marry him again?

• A million times over.  He's my lobster.

I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is
trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you.    -- Anonymous

Happy Anniversary, Kirk!

Love you like a skunk loves stink.

Honeymooning.....In a Small Town

We live in a college town.  Actually a two-college town. 

So as you can imagine, life here in our only place to shop is Walmart one horse town revolves a lot around those colleges and their professors and their students.  Everything we do, from church to restaurants to Walmart to just driving through town, is affected by college life.

So it is no surprise that my kids have been talking since the day they were born about when they get to go to college.  They are fascinated with the huge buildings of higher education that we drive past daily and are always asking questions about when they "get to go to school in that building" or when they "get to go and live there."

We have family debates over which university is better (playful banter, of course, because in no way are we locking our kids into school here....in no way).  We occasionally go to football games and pretend like we care who wins.  And even though one of these schools is my alma mater and my heart should be swollen with pride every time someone mentions its name, college life has become everyday and not super special anymore.  I think that just happens when you live here, and when college students being back for the year just means longer lines at Walmart and more people to take up your booths and tables at the few restaurants that you do have. 

So yesterday's conversation in the car started out like many others that involve going to college, but quickly turned...uh...weird.

KEATON:  Hey, Mom...uh...when do I get to go to college?

ME:  (thinking Here we go again.)  When you graduate from high school, kiddo.

KEATON:  And then Saw and Tate go to college, right?

ME:  That's the plan.

KEATON:  So what are you going to do when all of us are gone to college?

ME:  (thinking to myself) Sleep! And have a clean house!

ME:  (to Keaton)  Well, I'll cry, of course.  Because I'll miss you guys.

KEATON:  But, Mom.  Then you'll be able to go have lots of honeymoons with dad.  You'll be happy.  You know it.


Uh..stammer...stutter...trip over my tongue...what?....Honeymoons?....huh?....say what?.....

I have no idea where he gets this stuff.

Stories About the Husband. He'll Kill Me Later.

The husband often despises the fact that I'm a blogger.

And it doesn't really have anything to do with the fact that I blab personal details about our family all over cyberspace.  Or that I talk about all of you people like you live next door to me, and he often times has to have me clarify who exactly I'm talking about. 

Really what irritates him is that I parade pictures around of him, make snide comments about him never smiling, and tell embarrassing stories about him....all without his permission.  And I've thought about being a teensy bit more respectful of him and his feelings, but if I did that then you wouldn't know about this:

1)  That on Halloween night we had just arrived back home, and the boys were stripping off their costumes...and I was digging in their candy buckets stealing all the chocolate checking all the pieces for safety.  We have a motion sensor light as our porch light, and though we had it turned off because we weren't home that night, it had popped on when we came home.  We hadn't been home 5 minutes and the doorbell rang.  Trick-or-Treater.  So, Kirk went to the door and TOLD THE PRINCESS THAT WE DIDN'T HAVE ANY CANDY AND SENT THE PRINCESS AWAY.  Oh yes he did.  All while I was sitting at the table stuffing my face with Laffy Taffy and Crunch Bars. 

2)  That he laid in bed and thought about that poor princess all night long.  And felt terrible.  And when I joked that her big brothers were going to come back and toilet paper our house that night, he decided that that would, in fact, make him feel better.  And even contemplated going and rolling our house himself.

3)  That I love to watch him get dressed in the morning.  Now...don't let your mind get all wandery.  It isn't what you are thinking.  It is because it is so ding dang comical.  The man walks back and forth between his closet and his dresser no less than 78 times.  He puts shirts on top of shirts because he forgets that he already put a shirt on.  Same with socks.  He'll be telling me about what he's going to do at the gym (he goes every morning before work) while putting on work clothes.  And then he'll realize what he's doing and have to undress and put on gym clothes.  He will be fully dressed and go to the closet, turn the light on, and just stare at his clothes.  And then he'll remember that he's already dressed, turn the light off, and head out of the room.
It.cracks.me.up.  And it makes my days start off just marvelously.

4)  That his favorite word is "literally."  And he uses it a.lot.  Literally.

5)  That he taps his foot when he is talking all smarty.  I can always tell when he's being thinky, because his feet just start a-tappin'.

6)  That all his friends call him the Redneck Physicist.  And it is the truth.  He is the only man I know who can discuss the art of guttin' deer using the Theory of Relativity.  And all while tappin' his foot.  Literally.

Now...before you go off thinking I'm being all disrespectful of my man, I'm not.  I adore him like crazy.  And already warned him ahead of time that I was going to "out" him.  He's just decided to roll with it. 

Because you know what is the best thing about my man?  He is the kindest, gentlest, most compassionate man I've ever met.  He is funny and witty and smart.  And he loves us.

And even though he turns little princesses away...he is amazing.  Literally.

Empty Drawer

I got home from the gym this morning and plopped myself back in bed.  Kirk was in the shower when I got home, like he is most mornings, getting ready to head out to his gym and then off to work.

I grabbed my laptop and perused a few blogs, checked in on twitter, and read through some emails.  And I could hear Kirk going through his morning rituals in the bathroom.  The click of his deodorant.  The exact same water pressure speed that he uses every.day when he shaves.  The sound of his toothbrush. 

I grinned to myself because I love that I know those things about him.  I love that if a room full of 10 men were all doing those exact things, I could pick Kirk out just by KNOWING how he taps his razor on the side of the sink.

And then he did something amazing.

Small.  But amazing.

He walked into our bedroom to get dressed. (That's not the amazing part...by the way.)  He opened up the drawer where he keeps the shirts he works out in, and then shut it.  I cringed because I knew that drawer was empty.  That load of clothes was still in the washer.  And has been for 2 days.  And needs to be rewashed because now the clothes stink like soured gym shoes. 

But he didn't say anything.

He just walked to his closet where he keeps his other t-shirts and grabbed one of those.

And I realized that he does this all.the.time.

And then I just had to kiss him.

Because he never says anything. 

He goes to work everyday and works his tail off for his family.  But never so much as even utters a complaint about deadlines, schedules, or stress. 

He heads out everyday and trusts me to take care of his babies.  But he knows that I take a lot of naps and spend a lot of time on my computer, but never even hints that he wishes I didn't.

He comes home and usually has to step over huge piles of toys, blocks, and shoes not put away just to get to the kitchen to grab a glass of tea, which on some days isn't even made up yet.  But he just steps around it and comes in and plants big kisses on each and every one of us and tells us how glad he is just to be home.

And then he goes to get clothes out of his drawer...and they aren't there.  But he doesn't say anything.

I'm not sure why he doesn't.

Because I know it has to bother him. 

But I think he just respects me enough to not.  I know that I waste a lot of time around the house piddling on the computer, watching DVR'd episodes of GLEE over and over and over again, and catching cat naps on the couch.  But I take great comfort in being able to do those things and not feel guilty about them either, because I know that Kirk won't ever hound me about choosing a nap over folding a load of towels.  He just won't. 

Again...not because he's superman.  But because he respects me.

So this morning as I smiled to myself and counted out the rhythm of his razor taps, and then watched him open and close the empty drawer without a word....I decided that I want to be different.

I want his shelves and dresser drawers to be full.
I want his tea pitcher to be full every day.
I want there to be clean towels in the cabinet waiting on him.
I want there to be at least a clear path from the front door to his recliner.
I want there to be good food waiting for him when he gets home from work.

Because he deserves it.
Because I love him.
Because he loves us.

So blessed.

The Husband

That guy right there is Mr. Raising Rascals.
Also known around these parts as Dude Who Never Smiles.

It's his birthday today. And he turned the big 32. (Yah. Yah. We're babies....tell me all about it.)

In honor of the man who just might be crazier than me (because he continues to come home to our nut house at night instead of high-tailing it to Wisconsin), I'm dedicating this post to him. And I'm going to fill ya in on some facts that you may not know about Mr. Mystery With the Wicked Dimples....

1. He is insanely smart. Like has a degree in Physics smart. He likes to spout off random facts about theories and equations of planetary something-or-other, and I pretend to listen. Because I don't want him to leave us for Wisconsin.

2. He is incredibly handy around the house. I can count on one hand the number of times we have had to call a repairman to our house to fix something, and that was only the air conditioning man because we needed freon, and apparently they don't sell that stuff to just anybody...even if you can quote Einstein and Bernoulli.

3. He has a crazy old car fetish. Right now in our garage sits a 1953 Chevy pickup that is being restored. And in his dreams are a bazillion other vehicles that are just waiting for him to refurbish.

4. He loves to bow fish.

5. He is a card shark at Texas Hold 'Em.

6. His fantasy job is to be an astronaut. His eyes drift to the stars on most nights.

7. He is bilingual. He is completely fluent in both Redneck Arkanese and High-Falootin' Smart People Speak.

8. He is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. And if he killed the meat himself, then it is even better.

9. He can cook breakfast like nobody's business.

10. He loves a big ole' glass of sweet tea.

11. He never gets ice in his fountain sodas....because they don't water down that way. See? Always thinkin', this guy.

12. He has lots of best friends. Because he is a great friend.

13. His middle name is Matthew. And Tate shares his daddy's middle name.

14. He has an insanely sarcastic and dry sense of humor, and he can always be counted on for clever commentary on any conversation.

15. His favorite chips are Original Pringles, and his favorite candy is Reece's Peanut Butter Cups.

16. His favorite dessert is cheesecake. I've seen him cry grown man tears when it comes to good cheesecake.

17. He loves the St. Louis Cardinals; the Green Bay Packers; and the Arkansas Razorbacks.

18. He doesn't like basketball....unless his boys are playing it....or he has 5 bucks invested in the office March Madness pool.

19. He works out at the gym every morning....except when he sleeps in.

20. He doesn't understand my blog obsession or my relationships that I've made with "people I've never met," but he is totally and wholly supportive of it and me. Even though eye-rolling is an adequate summation of his mannerisms whenever my blogeeps are discussed.

And lastly....but certainly not leastly....

He is an amazing father. And an amazing husband. And an amazing friend.

I'm honored everyday to be married to such a tremendous guy, and have to pinch myself constantly to realize that this crazy ride we're on together is real.

Happy Birthday, Kirk!

You are most definitely my favorite!!

A Very Short Play In Which The Husband Swallowed His Foot. Written By Me.

Characters:

• Amber -- dressed in a ratty teeshirt and lounge-around shorts and wearing no makeup....obviously ready for bed.
• Husband -- also dressed for bed in teeshirt and shorts. Also no makeup.

Setting:

• A bed in a bedroom that is in desperate need of renovation (in which the husband is taking on as his summer project...woo hoo! ahem. sorry. back to play.). The bed is positioned so that it is facing the television set in the room. Playing on the television is TV Guide' Channel's "World's Sexiest TV Women." The room is littered with dirty clothes and a dirty cereal bowl is sitting by the bed spotless.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The curtain opens with Amber and Husband in bed. Husband has tight hold on remote, eyes glued to television spectacle. Amber is propped up with laptop, eyes glued on her computer screen. She barely notices the tv or Husband. A sundry of television's past and present leading ladies parade across the television screen.

HUSBAND: You know who the sexiest woman in the world is?

AMBER: (finishes up what she is typing and then turns to look at him. looks confused.) Huh?

HUSBAND: Do you know who the sexiest woman in the world is?

AMBER: (rolls eyes) Jennifer Love Hewitt? (side note....this is who the husband is crushing on. he apparently has a thing for people who can whisper to ghosts.)

HUSBAND: (long pause. looks as if he is mulling something over. begins to stutter.) Uh. Uh. Uh. Yes.

Amber punches Husband and returns to laptop.


CURTAIN.



The husband says I talked fancy to him and got him all kinds of confused.

Maybe I should have whispered.


If you are interested....you can find Act I here and Act II here.

I've Been Hijacked

OK. Here's the deal.

For all of you blogstalkers, BFFs, blog buddies, genetically linked peeps, and the poor unfortunate sucker who was deceived by a Google, Yahoo, or some other search engine with an "oo" in it, I, the poor neglected significant other, have hijacked the blogspot today. There will be no plays, giveaways (still not quite sure why we are giving away things!!), pictures of candy bar consumption, makeup instruction brochures, or rants about her annoying Pineapple Diet Dr Pepper! Give it a rest!!!

You are all part of a serious problem that needs to be corrected. By problem I mean the endless hours spent voyeuristically (that may have suckered the poor guy typing on the yoogly search engine) peering into your lives and shamelessly plastering our dysfunctional, rascally, and down right weird lives on this WORLD WIDE WEB . . . . . WORLD WIDE!!!

Yah. Yah. Yah. I may be slightly (by slightly, I mean not at all!!) responsible by purchasing this:

and this:

But let me explain the situation from my point of view. There have been countless nights where I selflessly rub her feet, brush her hair, and massage her shoulders, and all I hear is the relentless tapping of those stupid keys. Oh, those stupid, stupid keys!!! The tapping is usually only interrupted by an occasional "Shush! I'm concentrating!" or "What laundry?" or my personal favorite . . . . "Fruity Pebbles are in the cabinet."

So that being said, next time you post a comment, blog a spot, or what ever else it is that you people do in the world on the other side of a computer screen, remember this. There is a perfect husband (that's me) climbing Mt. Laundry trying to make it to the cabinet for Fruity Pebbles who could use your support. Please don't send a jock strap it's not that funny, really ("PG13 comment! But I hijacked it, so I can say what I want!!" says the neglected husband as his adoring wife rolls her eyes at him).

Oh, forget it. I know you all are going to encourage this behavior without any thought of me. But I just have to say that I am still the luckiest goob in the world, even if all I get is Flintstone endorsed breakfast cereal for dinner, and I am forced (because men can't do laundry) to wear the same pair of pants for weeks.

Mostly because not everyone gets to come home to this everyday.

But seriously, I heart this girl. Who couldn't? She's a rockstar in our rascally world.

You can all breathe a sigh of relief because tomorrow your blog world will be "Normal" again.

Our boy crazy world wouldn't be the same without this girl, even if I never get the cole slaw I love so much.

Love You, Amb.

March Madness is Maddening

I think I deserve diamonds for what just happened tonight.

Or flowers.

Or at least a Pineapple Diet Dr. Pepper from Sonic.

Because I handed over the remote. Oh, yes...I did. And with grace, mind you. Not much of a smile, but with grace.

Apparently there is some big basketball game on TV tonight. And my husband decided that he needed to watch it. What?! He can't stand basketball. I'm blessed in that every March I'm not dealt a double-whammy. My prime time lineup may be tampered with, but at least I'm not forced to watch the Madness. I feel for the wives who aren't so fortunate.

But....tonight.....the husband decided to delve into testosterone territory. He needed to breathe man air. He needed to stretch his man legs.

And something had to give.

It was either his manhood. Or the channel which held my precious Dancing With the Stars.

GASP! No, Amber....You didn't.

Oh. I did. And I deserve something shiny for my efforts.

I am now neck deep in a sea of Green and Baby Blue, long basketball shorts, and a scoreboard that is reflecting a very un-close game. And we turned the channel for this?! Supposedly the TarHeels are making history....huh. Not really very impressed.

The only redeeming factor is that Tyler Hansbrough is from our hometown.

We don't get out much in PB, MO....so Tyler is somewhat of a celebrity. No. He is our only celebrity. So, it is kinda fun to scan the crowd for his dad, say things like "Ah...I remember little Tyler," and get giddy every time I think about Tyler once being a Poplar Bluff Mule. (Isn't that a great mascot....I'm so proud!)

By the way....I'm only doing this for the husband. And only because he did the laundry yesterday. And only for nostalgia's sake with Tyler. And only because it is only one night out of 365 that I have to be subjected to such misery.

The One Where I Say "Y'all" A Lot

I'm tired, y'all. This weekend has been a doosey for me. All good. All exhausting.

I'm thinking in random spurts, so this blog post will be nothing but.

Read no further...unless you are willing to subject yourself to an overdose of randomosity. Consider yourself warned.

1) I'm going to write this in numbered list form. It will bring the only semblance of order and organization to this post....it seemed necessary.

2) Tate is dealing with the Girl Pants drama remarkably well. He has overheard me a couple of times discuss the GP's, and is coping. I'm pretty much a loudmouth....the GP's weren't going to stay under wraps long. But, luckily, Tate is 4. Doesn't really understand the magnitude of his mama's decision to cross-dress him. And has since been seen wearing only the Ring Master's sequin vest and bow tie with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle undies. I'm now thinking that the Girl Pants are the least of our worries.

3) Our Little League Baseball Jamboree was Saturday. If you're new to these parts, then you haven't been exposed to my small obsession with baseball. Namely baseball that my kids play. I'm one of those climb-the-fence, lose my voice sports moms. I'm the mom that horrifies her kids when she screams things like "Sweetie" and "Baby" from the bleachers. I also am unopposed to saying ugly things if my sweetie babies' baseball skillz are questioned. So, aside from being out at the fields ALL FREAKIN' DAY....it was right up my alley. I could have done without the splotchy sunburn and Keaton having his b-ball picture made with blue lips thanks to the slushie he drank during Tate's game....but whatever.

4) Saturday night, Kirk and I went on a triple-date with some of our best buddies. We left the kids with a babysitter and headed out for a night on the town. Talking to grown-ups is so much fun....even when no one acts like one! (Had a great time, You Guys! Can't wait to do it again...soon!!!!)

5) I discovered while I was out with our friends that I must be the only one who watches useless tv. Conversations at dinner revolved around Glenn Beck, FoxNews, and political correctness. Uh....I used that time to stuff my face with the most delicious cheese dip in the world. These would be my "smart friends" that I was out with last night. I even everyone out by being the "friend who watches entirely too much reality tv and knows entirely too much about useless celebrity gossip." It takes all kinds.

6) After dinner, we headed to the mall. We were there with all the Jr. High kids who dress weird and are really pumped to be at the mall on a Saturday night. We girls drooled over Vera Bradley bags and tried on dresses. The men looked at baseball bats and frowned when we came out of Victoria's Secret empty-handed.

7) We discussed Britney Spears. And she still scares me. What scares me more is that I know a lot of her songs by heart.

8) Kirk and I flipped a coin this morning to see who was going to get to stay home with puney kids and who got to go to church. He stayed. I went.

9) My smart friends and I all were reminded of how old we are while we yawned our way through church. An 11:00 curfew proved to be too late for us old fogies....

10) I have discovered that Sawyer has mastered the Art of the Spit Wad. Excellent. Nothing else needs to be said about this little matter. Trust me.

11) Our small group at church spent the afternoon with a bunch of great underprivileged kids this afternoon for our service project. We feasted on hot dogs and those yummy frosted sugar cookies from WalMart that just kind of melt in your mouth. Oh my goodness. Cookie heaven. Then we had an Easter Egg Hunt, had a telling of the Easter Story, and then just played, visited, and ate more cookies. And I yawned a lot...because I'm old. Good day. Good people. Amazing Jesus.

12) I am positive that I remember the Bible mentioning that StarBurst Jellybeans exist in Heaven along with streets of gold. Because they are just. that. good.

13) Sawyer was the only one of my kids well enough to venture out of the house today, so I indulged myself in a little only-had-one-kid-hallelujah shopping after we left our project. Amazing that Sawyer can resist the urge to climb around in all the clothes racks when he is the only little person. I reminded him several times that I noticed this spectacular miracle. He rolled his eyes at me. I rolled mine back.

14) New flip flops always make me smile. I got a new pair today. Perfect for the 28 degree weather that is rolling in tomorrow! Global warming my foot.

15) While I was out today, I had to run by the auto parts store to buy new brake shoes for my van. (Look at me typing that like I have any idea what those are.) I was laughed at and mocked by the people who work there when I had to call Kirk on the phone and be the messenger between him and the sales clerk. How am I supposed to know if my van has anti-lock breaks or drums in the back? You can't tell me that I'm the only woman who finds the only thing remotely interesting about car maintenance is the fact that cars do indeed wear "shoes." Seriously.

16) I came home this afternoon to find that my sweet husband had done the laundry. I didn't even think he knew where the laundry room was. I just had to give him a big ole' kiss! And then I rewarded him further by allowing myself to take a nap while he helped my van try on her new shoes.

17) Y'all...he did the laundry!

18) I just got poked in the eye with a golf club. Just totally put a damper on my he-did-the-laundry high.

No. Nothing could squelch that joy. Because, y'all! He did the laundry!! :)

Our First Date Was....Uh....I'll Get Back To You On That

One of my very good friends is going on a date with her husband tonight.

For their anniversary.

Typical. Sure. IF IT IS YOUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!

They, however, are celebrating the anniversary of their first date. 15 years ago, to the day, they ate at a certain restaurant in Little Rock. And he's taking her back to that same restaurant tonight.

I almost swallowed the spoon I was gagging myself with.

Seriously? First date anniversaries? People do that? When you aren't wearing braces and passing origami folded notes decorated with hearts in the halls? Really?

Because Kirk and I can't even remember the exact date of our engagement, and half the time our marriage, let alone our first date.

And even if we could remember it....I know a date would probably never happen. Because, after having to have my mom remind us of our wedding anniversary, we rarely go out for even it. Instead....we hang out with the family. MY ENTIRE FAMILY to be exact.

True.

Kirk and I have been married for 12 years (I think!), and (no joke!) we have spent EVERY single anniversary with my extended family. Because it is always at Christmas.

See, we made (ahem....I made) the stupid decision to be married 2 days after Christmas. I was in love with the decorations my church went overboard with each holiday and was convinced that nothing other than that atmosphere would work. My poor parents. I am forever indebted to them for putting up with that insanity. Not only did it cause HUGE problems at wedding time, it will forever be overshadowed by Christmas.

Maybe that is why I can't even remember how many years it has been half the time....because we just don't focus on it.

Kirk and I go out on dates to celebrate all the laundry being done or as therapy or just because some poor soul offered to keep the hoodlums. Anniversaries? Not so much.

So....today when I found out about my friend's hot date planned for the evening, soda almost came out of my nose. Because they actually keep up with their calendar dates. And that seems so profound to me.

And weird.

And loverly.



***Editor's note....please don't recommend marriage counseling or Dr. Phil interventions. Kirk and I are more than good....even if we can't remember how it was exactly that we ended up together!!! Just seems like it's always been that way. I wash his dirty socks and put up with his weird eating habits, and he just...well...puts up with me. And we don't have to put it on a calendar to know we like it that way. :)

What Was I Thinking?

Exercise and I are not on good terms. We have a mutual understanding....we ignore each other and we are both happy.

This relationship was working just fine and dandy for the two of us....until....

A deal was cut. A slimy, sneaky, make-me-crazy deal.

And I blame it all on this:

Have you ever heard of this madness? It is an insane, pathetically hard workout program that is supposed to rip you into beach body perfection in 90 days. It is a psychotic mix of cardio, weight training, and yoga. Insanity, I tell ya, pure insanity.

Kirk decided to jump on the P90X train when some friends at work did. (I gave him my speech about jumping off bridges just because his friends do, but he didn't listen). He asked me nicely to do the program with him, and I chuckled rather loudly in his face, then gently reminded him of the fact that exercise and I are not on speaking terms.

Then it happened. He pulled the card that makes me turn to mush. He busted out a vacation to the sunny beaches of Mexico.

He said that if I finish this program with him, then my ticket to Mexico will be ready and waiting. And the icing on the cake is that apparently I'll also look good in a bathing suit if I do the program. Yah....we'll see about that last part, but just the thought of Mexico was enough to make my eyes swim.

So we shook on it, and for the past 4 nights I have subjected my body to the most horrendous display of muscle torture known to man. And I hurt. Everywhere.

I can't even sit down without grimacing.

But I just keep thinking...Mexico, Mexico, Mexico.

Kirk seems to think that once I go through the whole 90 days that I will be addicted to exercise and want to keep going.

I think I chuckled louder at that comment than the first one.

It All Started In Spanish Class

Kirk and I were best buddies in high school. Back when he had a Mexican Mafia goatee, and I had bleach blonde hair that I didn't dye. I dreamed about dating him, but never thought it would happen. We were just friends. Just really good friends.

But something happened around graduation time. I can't even really remember how it happened now. We didn't go out on a date and he didn't formally "ask me out." We just ended up together. We somehow progressed from good buddies to an inseparable couple.

Been together ever since.

When people say things like, "I married my best friend," it always makes me smile.

Because I really did.

Happy Valentine's Day, Honey!

Love you to pieces.

More Realness

Remember what I said about being a real person in a real marriage?

Real marriage happened to Kirk and I this week. Last night, in fact.

It was one of those long nights that included lots of words and a few tears. We hashed some stuff out. He talked and I let him.

We went to bed last night rather silent, but we were okay. We woke up this morning the same way.

Tonight was better. We ate dinner and smiled at each other. We watched American Idol and laughed together. Every once in awhile he winked at me. Every once in awhile I winked back.

Real marriage happens. It isn't always pretty. But it is always beautiful. Because we promised to love each other through the good and the bad.

That's beautiful.

11 Years....

Eleven years ago today....I married my best friend.

Happy Anniversary, Kirk! I love you to the stars and back.

Looking For My Black Mourning Suit

Tomorrow I become a widow. Around 4:30 in the morning to be exact. I have around 7 more hours of wedded bliss and then it will be over...for about a month.

I am getting ready to lose my husband to the deer woods.

Tomorrow is Opening Day of deer season here in Arkansas, and there is not much else that gets Kirk as excited as this particular day does. To him it is better than Christmas and birthdays. If our children would have held Fall due dates, I'm not sure that he would have shown up to the hospital for their births had it been deer season...or at least he would have shown up in full camo, smelling like the woods.

Around here....this is big stuff.

I guess he is ready for tomorrow. He engaged me in thrilling conversation over dinner tonight about which gun he has decided to hunt with first time out. He placed his new deer stand a week ago, and he is super excited about the "bungee seat" -- don't ask...I don't know. He has invested in deer urine and has his hunter's orange ready by the door. I offered to set the coffee pot, so that he would have some piping hot joe in the morning, but he declined....saying then he would just have to go to the bathroom and get off his stand. This is super serious business.

From now until the end of season, Kirk will be MIA. He will be in the woods every chance he gets. He'll go in the woods before work and he will be cleaning his gun and I'll be washing camo after work. Every day and weekend will be full of nothing but "I saw one," "His horns weren't big enough," "I missed him," or (hopefully) "I got a big one!"

Tomorrow......and so it begins!

Oh, and just because I think it is weird...here is a picture of the deer urine....can you see the picture on the bottle? Feels very strange that we purchased something that would involve that kind of thing!! :)