Everyday he’s shuffling…

On Monday, he’s shuffling.  Tuesday?  He shuffles.  Even on Wednesday…he shuffled…

♫ wiggle – wiggle – wiggle – wiggle – wiggle… ♫

♫ YEAH! ♫

Every gosh darn day…the boy’s shuffling!

Halloween is going to be a blast this year!

It’s been 2 months and 7 days since my last post…

And I’ve just fallen off the wagon.  I could go on and on with all the things I was doing, rather than blogging…but,…well…on second thought.  That’s exactly what I’ll do.  But, I’ll do it in pictures, so as not to bore with you a ridiculous diatribe about how crazy busy we’ve been.  Deal? 

We’ve been crazy busy…I know I said I wouldn’t bore you with that…but, it’s the truth.  Cold hard truth.  We’re busier than we’ve been.  Things are going as smoothly as they’ve ever been.  People in the house seem as happy as they’ve ever been.  Well, strike that…MOST of the people in the house.  Actually all the little people in the house are happy.  Us big people are stressing the fuck out.  Jake’s arms ache from stretching things so much to make ends meet, and Tuesday, I almost committed homicide.  My clinical professor pissed me off so badly that all I could do was cry.  I had to release the anger inside, and since murdering your clinical instructor is frowned upon in the nursing program…I had to cry to let it all out.  Like a little bitch.  For four hours.  AT CLINICAL!!!!  Oh well, at least the bitch is still alive.  Unless she was struck down by lightning during that storm the other night…which I swear I didn’t pray to God for.  I still don’t pray.  If I did, I may have prayed for lightning to strike her a little bit.  Just a little…just enough to singe the hair right off her head, and maybe fry some of the bitch out of her. 

Dude…I digress…sorry….

On with the pictures!!!  This is what’s been happening for the last two months and seven days…

We’re finding cheap ways to entertain the family…

Our biggest boy broke his arm.  At a skate park. 
He doesn’t know how to skateboard…hence the broken arm! 

All the monkeys started school…

Including me…

By the way, did I tell you that I almost murdered my clinical instructor, but, instead cried like a bitch?  If I could change one thing about myself, instead of crying like a bitch when I’m angry, I would be instantly given the most perfect recipe of wit, and snark, and truth without cutdowns, delivered to my brain then my tongue to unleash on the object of my anger.  Instead…tears, puffy eyes, red nose, sniffling…yeah…that just SCREAMS, “You’re a shitty instructor, and one day I’ll be your boss and fire YOU’RE sorry ass!”

Again with the digression…

This one kicks ass on the football field with his BFF.  We call them “Shake and Bake!”

This one plays a mean trumpet.  We call him Dizzy…

These guys are all a year older…

Us girls are going for our black belts.  Lily in Tae Kwon Do, me, in Nursing…

This one is playing fall baseball…

And this one spent a night in the hospital.  He developed a nasty infection from a bug bite that he’s allergic to, and he had major swelling to his family jewels.  The docs were worried about his boys, so they kept him overnight.  His boys are fine now, and my boy is back to his old self!

That’s about it…we should be caught up. 

I’ve missed this place. 

Happy Friday’s Eve!

Six Word Saturday…

♫♫ Sittin’ on the docka the bay… ♫♫

♫♫…wastin’ tiiiiiime… ♫♫

A letter…

Dear Medical Assistant at my Doc’s office:

I got your message.  Thanks for letting me know my test results.  Since I’m getting old older, I was actually a bit worried about this last scraping of my cervix.  Well, the scraping of the half of a cervix that was left after my poor, tired, uterus was removed.  The remaining half that was too mangled and twisted and wrapped around my bladder to be removed.  That old thing. 

Side note:  I bet my uterus looked rad.  It was probably all graffiti’ed up, there were probably bean bag chairs in the corner of it, Christmas lights strung throughout it.  That’s what I bet the inside of that puppy looked like.  Hendrix and Marley posters lined the walls of it.  I just described my first dorm room, insinuating I gave birth to pot smoking college kids. 

Anywho…your message…

Yeah, this is what you said, and I quote, “Yes, this is So-and-So from Dr. So-and-So’s office, with your pap smear results.  They initially came back abnormal, so we sent them for further testing, and they came back normal.  So, we’ll see you next year.  Thanks and have a good afternoon.”

So, bottom line, my mangled mess left over from my baby maker is normal.  Normal, right?  Couldn’t you just have left it at that?  I’m getting old older.  I don’t need to hear shit like my shit was abnormal.  Hearing shit like that, scares the shit outta me. 

You made my ears start ringing and my head start pounding…and MY FUCKING HEART JUMPED UP INTO MY FUCKING THROAT FOR A SPLIT SECOND!  Was it really necessary to deliver the new that way? 

That was rhetorical.  No.  No, So, and So, it wasn’t.  Next time, a simple, “Your test results came back normal,” will be fine, alright?  Ya dig?

Thanks again, and I hope YOU have a great afternoon.  You know, unless a medical assistant tells YOU that YOUR shit is abnormal! 

Until next year, when I hop back in the stirrups again,

Nikki

Old and drunk...

You know you're the former when this song is blaring on the way home from the bar..

and you know you're the latter, when you're screaming the chorus, windows down, flinging your arms, directing the line, "IT'S NONE OF YO BIZNESS," at a deer, literally, in headlights in your driveway!  

I had a damn good night out on the town in their small town in MD with my brother and sister-in-law, for my birthday; old, drunk, and all!

My lobster…

♫ Joy (pump it up, pump it up)…and Pain  ♫

♫ Like sunshine (what else, what else), and Rain ♫

We’ve seen it all in our marriage, and I can easily say that I love him so much more today than I did 13 years ago, when I said “I do,” in that tiny little chapel on Las Vegas Blvd.  I can’t take all the credit for breezing through the past 15 years with this man.  Rob Base sang it best (again) when he sang…

♫ It takes two to make a thing go right…It takes two to make it outta sight… ♫

Man that rapper knows a thing or two about love! 

Happy Anniversary to my lobster!

End of the summer…

It’s the end of The One Who Knows Everything’s summer.  He know a lot, but, he didn’t know that it’s not a good idea to climb the tallest skate ramp, and attempt to skate down it, when you’re not an amateur or professional skateboarder.  Especially so, when you’re hardly considered a skateboarder of any kind, or at all. 

He broke his arm (a buckle fracture on the distal end of his right radius, about an inch from the epiphyseal plate…to be exact and use my big, fancy nursing terms!), a cast was placed, and his fun in the water has come to an end. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His broken arm did not, however, put an end to his monkeying around, as evidenced by this little gem…

Not the sharpest tool in the shed…

It’s actually amazing that this is the first broken arm in our household! 

Boys!!

Soaking it up…

Been busy soaking up time with these guys, before this glorious summer break ends…

Damn it feels good…

to be a planksta!

Are you a planksta?

They come in all shapes and sizes…

There are even wannabe, gonnabe, plankstas…

But, there’s nothing like a true hard hitting O-G planksta, like this one…

So, are you?  Are you a planksta?  If so, I wanna see how planksta you really are. 

A first…

We haven’t had a first around our house in a long time. 

Well, I did have Crown Royal for the first time the other day, and was subsequently more intoxicated than I’ve ever been in my life, but, I’m not talking about me. 

I’m talking about the kiddos.  FirstS are few and seriously far between these days.  Haven’t been hit with anything new in a long while. 

Until today. 

It caught my eye in my peripheral vision of The One Who Knows Everything’s profile as we watched TV this afternoon.  I grabbed his chin, squished his cheeks and pulled his face to me for closer inspection. 

“Is that a zit?” I said. 

His brother and sister were no where within earshot, but, I could still see a bit of embarrassment on his face. 

“NO!” he shouted as he pulled his face away from me and covered the pimple on his chin with one hand, as his face reddened. 

“YES IT IS!” I shouted back, and said excitedly, “Let me see it.  Awwww…you’re growing up, Dude.  I need to call Dad.  Oooh…let me take a picture of it and send it to Dad.”

With that request, he jumped up off the couch and ran from me, swinging his arms with no regard for his brother, who happened to walk into the room at just the wrong time, and who happened to get knocked to the floor.  The One Who Gets Away With Murder fell to the floor in a dramatic heap, wailing, as the bigger one slammed the bathroom door. 

This was enough activity to pique the girl’s curiosity, and she came out of her room and nonchalantly said, “What is going on?” 

I quickly comforted Jack and coaxed Avery out of the bathroom.  I sat him down on the couch, and tried to explain, “You’re growing up, kid.  This is the first of many zits you’ll have.  And I’m your mother, and you’re sorely mistaken if you think that between now and the time that you’ve navigated safely through your teens, that I won’t tease you once, twice, or two thousand times.  That’s just how I am.  Besides, it’s just a zit.”

Having calmed himself down and having just heard the tail end of my monologue, Jack added insult to injury (his brother’s, not his own), busting into the room, yelling, “I KNEW IT!  I KNEW IT WAS A ZIT.  I KNEW IT.  I TOLD HIM LAST NIGHT HE HAD A ZIT, AND…AND…HE KEPT SAYING, ‘No…it’s just a blemish,’ OR WHATEVER.  BUT, I KNEW IT.  AVERY HAS A ZI-IT, AVERY HAS A ZI-IT.  AVERY HAS A ZI-,” but, he was interrupted by a hard shove, and Jack hit the ground before he could finish the word zit!

Ave stormed off again, slammed another door, and the little one was in another dramatic heap on the floor.  Wailing.  Again. 

Just as nonchalantly, never letting the chaos of our house get under her skin, Lily said, “Really?  This is all about a zit?” 

I tried to calm Avery down, apologizing for teasing him, but, encouraging him to grow some thicker skin rather quick like.  I warned him of the numerous zits he’d have and the hair that would begin to emerge soon, and all the fun stuff that puberty would bring, and that a little ole zit and his mother’s excitement over it, was nothing to get upset about. 

I promised to be more sensitive to his feelings, he promised to stop slamming doors, and use his words, instead, and Jack promised to punch Avery in the face if was shoved to the ground one more time. 

It was my prepubescent boy’s first zit.  Although he wouldn’t let me take a picture of it, it looked exactly like this…

photo from HERE

Not that you’ve never seen one before.  But, I have never seen on before on the face of one of my children.  Another milestone for the books. 

A first. 

I sure as hell hope both of us handle the next one a little better!

A night to remember…

As we stirred this morning afternoon from a few hours of slumber, to The One, I said, “Oh, man…I had fun last night.  I think I was a little tipsy.”

The One replied, sarcastically, “Uh…do you have a new tattoo this morning?”

This image flashed into my head…

and I looked down at the small tingly place on my right thigh.

I said, “Why, yes.  Yes, I do have a fresh one.”

The One responded, “Then, yes.  Yes, I’d say you were a bit tipsy.  At least.” 

They are so totally addictive! 

Addict…

I get lost on this website for hours.  Literally…hours! 

And I’m eagerly awaiting the release of it’s app for Droid, much like a crackhead might wait for a text back from his pusher.  Not that I know what a crackhead feels like, per se…but, you know.  What I imagine he might feel like. 

Anyway…alls I was trying to say is that I love Pinterest. 

Small town, USA…

I love our little town. 

In spite of my deep longing to be an Austinite, to be a part of the the downtown, city life, I have to acknowledge  my love for our sleepy little village on the outskirts of the suburbs. 

I especially love it on weekends like this one. 

When we visited a nearby, family run firework stand/used car lot/family farm.  It’s run by a good ole boy, his little lady, and their teenaged boys who know everything about every single firework they sell.  A knowledge that completely impressed my teenage wannabe boys.  

I pass by this little stand/car lot regularly.  Sometimes several times a day.  That kind of regularly.  I love looking at this sculpture that sits near the road, although, I’ve never known what it is, exactly. 

It looks to be old, and maybe like it’s missing some spokes, but, it’s always piqued my interest.  During the school year, we pass by this place daily taking the kids to and from practices, and as we passed by all those evenings the sculpture never stood out. 

However, this week, I guess I passed by it for the first time, in the evening, in the months of late June, early July.  And this week, I finally realized what the thing actually was…

It’s a metal and fiber-optic sculpture of a firework, exploding in the sky.  I talked to the owner when I asked if I could take pictures, and she commented, “You should’ve seen it when we first got it…it was gorgeous.  The wind’s done a number on it.  It’s seen better days, but we’re proud of it.” 

Picnic tables lined the property and locals sat and chatted with each other and with the owners.  Kids popped firecrackers on a slab of cement…

the smell of sulfur filled the air, the sky was illuminated with flashes of color…

mosquitos and moths buzzed overhead…

and the air was heavy with heat and humidity. 

That night was the very definition of summer…

The very definition of America…

I love our little town. 

Happy Independence Day!

Punks…

Not this kind…

(photo from HERE)

Instead, the girl and I used this kind…

(photo from HERE)

To make this…

Y’all have fun! 

Enough...

Enough with the sentimental, patriotic, Rainbow Brite posts, already.  Time to get back to your regularly scheduled blog...

(photo from HERE) 

I love Pinterest!

Martha frickin’ Stewart…

I hope everyone has a great 4th!  

Sometimes...

A pot left on the kitchen counter to dry, is just as entertaining as a funhouse mirror...

And sometimes...

The dog dresses inappropriately for the season...

but, we love him anyway!

Sometimes...

Sometimes, people on Facebook drive me up the frickin' wall.

Like when they post purposefully vague statuses, like, "I can't believe this is happening again," or the like, and when their friends offer support, and say things, like, "Is everything okay," they reply back with, "Can't talk about it on Facebook."  Or something like that!  Drives me insane.  THEY BROUGHT IT UP ON FACEBOOK...but, then, they can't elaborate on Facebook.  So, why not leave it off Facebook?

I hate when people bring drama to Facebook.  Really hate it.  Which is why when I saw this status, I cringed. Until, that is, I read my "friend's" friend's comment!

Sometimes...I frickin' LOVE Facebook!!