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…