Year's End...

I sat down with every intention of writing a fresh new post. My ADD kicked in, and I just spent the last two hours reading my own blog.

Doesn't get much more self-absorbed than that, does it?!?

It was actually incredible. I love having this virtual time capsule. A place to store my thoughts, whims, fears, insecurities, and adventures, as a wife, mother, and a woman.

Before I sat down, I was thinking that 2009 was a year of disappointment for me, because of the whole nursing school debacle.

However, after reading these old posts of mine, I realized that my rejection letter was just one day. One post. Out of hundreds of happy, funny, amazing moments this year...I was focusing on that one day. That one memory.

If nothing else, this blog reminds me that I'm lucky.

I love my life. Every single bit of it!

Thank you all so much, for the supportive, compassionate, challenging, and uplifting comments all along the way!

And Tucker says...

Post it Note Tuesday...

Head here to make you own sticky note, and here if you wanna play along with SupahMommy!

Here's mines:

One down...two to go...

This Christmas goes down in the Bullock history books as the year that Avery found out about Santa!

I SWEAR that he found out by accident! At least, consciously...it was an accident. Subconsciously? Probably notsomuch!

We bought each of the kids electric Razor scooters from Santa. We put them together the week before Christmas, and charged them, while the kids were staying at Jake's mom's for the weekend.

We wanted to get rid of the evidence, and a brilliant idea was hatched that when we picked up the kids, we would leave the big scooter boxes in Jake's mom's trash...and our kids would be none-the-wiser.

Well, Avery happened to walk by the truck, and happened to peer into the tinted windows, and happened to see the three scooter boxes, and happened to even notice what color each of the scooters was...as he "happened to glance in the truck." I think he did a little more than glance. I think he was snooping, but, that's neither here, nor there!

He raced to find me and said, "Mom...Mom...MOM! Why are there three scooter boxes in the back of the truck? There's two red ones, and a pink one! What are they for?"

Caught off guard, I fumbled, "Uhhh...Ummmmm. Uh. We're throwing those away for Aunt Taylor. Don't tell the other kids, okay."

After I said it...I realized how stupid it was to lie. He would obviously awake on Christmas morn, to two red scooters and a pink one in his living room, and he would hear his parents claim that they were left by Jolly Old Saint Nick. !

When things like this have happened in the past, I have rearranged gifts with my mom, or Jake's mom, and switched up what the kids would receive from Santa...so, that the fat guy's gifts were always a surprise. Not this year. We decided to let this one run it's course. Avery is on the tail end of his Santa believing years, anyway...so, it was time.

I was positively GIDDY!

Just as we expected, in the early morning hours of Christmas Day, while Lily and Jack did happy dances around their pile of Santa loot, Avery stood aside. The reality that his parents were big fat liars was dumped on top of his head, and he stood there, covered in it. Confused. Disappointed. Not knowing how to react, he slathered on his best poker face. He smiled, laughed, and kept this revelation to himself all day long.

Later that night, while I tucked him into bed, alone with him for the first time that day, I said, "Did you have a good Christmas, Buddy?"

He looked defeated, and his disappointment was evident in his speech, when he said, "Yeah, Mom. I guess I did," as he averted his eyes away from mine.

Feeding the elephant in the room a peanut, I said, "So, did you just totally catch us this year, or what?"

Relieved to be able to vent his frustration, he came alive, and said, "UH...YEAH! I DID!"

Rhetorically, he asked, "You guys are Santa??" He said it again. This time, it was a statement. It was accusatory, "YOU GUYS ARE SANTA!!!"

Finally speaking nothing but the truth, I said, "Yup! We sure are! It's just something fun that moms and dads do for their kids on Christmas. It's fun to pretend, and it's fun to see how magical you kids think it is."

He was silent for a minute, then began firing the questions at me, in rapid succession.

"So, elves are real, but Santa's not?"

Laughing, I answered, "Nope. Elves aren't real either."

Another revelation, "Oooooooh...so, you guys just go out and buy the toys?"

"Yes, son. That's exactly what we do."

"And all those letters to Santa? Where do they go?"

I replied, "Well, we let you put them in the mailbox, and after you kids were in bed, we would get the letter out of the mailbox. I stash them in a keepsake box to save in your baby books. I have all the letters you've written through the years."

"And what about all the things on the news about Santa? And that Santa network on our satellite? What is that about?"

Again, with the truth, I said, "Yeah...us grownups just kinda work together on keeping the magic of Christmas alive for our kids. It's kind of a big ole conspiracy --"

He interrupted me, fingering big, dramatic air quotes, and said, "Oh...Oh...And "SANTA" eats those cookies we leave out for him, huh?! YOU GUYS EAT THE COOKIES, DON'T YOU?! OH.MY.GAAAWD! THIS IS CRAZY! All this time, you had me believing in Santa. All this time, you guys sneak around at night, pretending to be Santa?!"

I could see yet another revelation in his eyes, and he said, "OH MY GAAAAAWD! The other day, when I lost a tooth? Don't tell me you're the tooth fairy, too! Mom, are you the Tooth Fairy?"

"Yes. Guilty as charged. Dad and I are the Tooth Fairy, too!"

He was shocked, "So, when I put the tooth under my pillow, y'all come creeping in here, take it while I'm sleeping, and leave some money under there?!?"

I nodded.

He yelled, "That's weird!! You shouldn't sneak around in my room while I'm sleeping! That's weird!!" Then, he gasped, "WHAT ABOUT THE EASTER BUNNY?"

Not able to restrain myself from effing with him a bit, I said, "Naw...the Easter Bunny's real!"

"Oh...whew! Good! I thought...." He stopped himself short, and said, "You're just messing with me! That's mean! My whole life is a lie, and you're teasing me! Mom, that's mean!"

He began to laugh. So did I.

I explained, "We don't do it to be mean, kid. It's just something fun we do. You'll likely do it with your kids, too. I'm sorry you had to find out that way, but, I'm glad you know. Now you know that we have to work to pay for those things you guys get. They don't just magically appear! Just do me a favor...please don't tell your brother and sister. Let them find out for themselves, too, okay?"

He responded, "Mom...I would never tell Lily and Jack that Santa's not real. It would crush them if they found out, Mom. This morning, when they were so excited about what Santa brought, and I knew the truth...I cried. We can't tell them, ever, Mom! EVER!"

With that, I watched my boy grow up a bit. Actually, he grew up a lot. And, that crushed me a little!

Merry Christmas, Dammit...

Have a good one, or the baby gets it!

Between a rock and a hard place...

He would've been TWELVE today!!

TUH-WELVE!

A sixth grader...approaching Junior High.

A pre-teen.

It's hard to believe.

On this day, I always think about what life would've been like if my boy were still here. There is that big part of me that longs to have him with me, to make me whole again.

Each time these thoughts run through my head, I'm forced to realize that, if he were still here...there are three little people in the other room, who wouldn't be here. Our lives would've been consumed with taking care of Joey's medical needs, and there likely wouldn't have been time for Avery, Lily, or Jack.

It leaves me wishing that my Joey were still here...but, at the same time, grateful for the amazing life I have, because he's not.

THAT'S some fucked up shit!

Mary Jane...

A week ago, the school sent home a consent form for us to sign, allowing Avery to participate in an anonymous drug and alchol survey.

At first, I thought they were prying for information about us.

**Guilty conscience, much??**

I was all paranoid thinking that they were going to ask questions like, "Is there NEVER / SOMETIMES / or, YOUR MOM WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT DEAD WITHOUT a box of wine in your fridge, at home?"

Or..."Does your dad kick back A COUPLE / A SIX PACK / or, / THERE ARE SO MANY EMPTYS ON THE COUNTER ON SATURDAY MORNINGS, THAT THERE IS NO COUNTER SPACE TO MAKE YOUR OWN CEREAL WHILE DAD SLEEPS IT OFF?"

I thought it would be shit like that...I was nervous.

After reading the letter a few times, we realized that its' purpose was to gather statistics on what, if any, drugs kids are exposed to, and at what ages.

**WHEW!**

We consented.

Avery came home last night, and said, "Hey...Mom and Dad. We took that questionaire about drugs and alcohol today."

In unison, we said, "You did? What kind of questions did it ask," as we glanced at one another...bracing ourselves.

He asked, "Wait, first, I have a question."

"Sure. What?"

He struggled, "What is MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA?"

**So, we're here. We're standing on the brink of that age old hypothetical question..."When your kids ask you about drugs, are you gonna tell them if you tried them?" And, for the record, yeah...I inhaled. There. I said it. But, Jake did it, too!! Yesterday, we were reading about the 'great green room...and the telephone...and the red balloon,' and today, he's asking me about 'MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA!!' Wow!!**

I said, "It's a drug."

Jake said, "You smoke it."

I looked at Jake, and my eyes said, "Dude?!?"

Aloud, I said, "Well, some people smoke it."

Jake said, "To get high."

This time, my eyes yelled, "DUDE?!?"

Avery, taking advantage of the pause, said, "What does 'high' mean?"

My eyes, to Jake, "ABORT...ABORT...ABORT...he's gonna ask us if we've ever gotten high!!"

To Avery, I said, "High means stupid. Some people think it's fun to be stupid. But, stupid's stupid. Getting high is stupid."

Avery said, "Well, I just put that I'd never heard of it...because I hadn't."

Again, in unison, Jake and I said, "GOOD!"

**Because, by god, if kids are talking about MAWR-I-JOO-ONNA in elementary school...society's screwed!**

We weren't finished.

Next, he asked, "It also asked me if I've ever used anything at home to get high. What does that mean?"

Jake replied, "Some people will sniff glue, or paint, or aerosol cans, things like that, to get high."

I finished Jake's thought with, "So, just because it's something that is around the house, doesn't make it okay to get high with it. And 'high' isn't cool."

Avery reminded me, "Yeah, and high is stupid."

And with that, the inquisition was over.

**thank god!!**

So, I think the dry run went well, and maybe we'll be better prepared for our next little convo. For, now, it is quite clear that when our kids ask if we've ever gotten high...WE'RE GONNA LIE LIKE A MUTHA!!

Milestones...

In the beginning of our childrens' lives, there are milestones galore. Smiling, cooing, sitting, walking, talking, etc....

For those first few years, they come in rapid succession. It always seemed like there was a new one to celebrate each week.

Some of those milestones were warm and welcomed. Like, that first true smile. The simple turning up of the corners of their little mouths, meant that there was indeed a little person in that tiny little bundle. An individual.

Some were bittersweet. Like, nursing them for the last time. I remember the last time I nursed each of my children. I remember looking into their faces, and holding their hand, while they were cradled close to me. They were content, and so was I. I remember telling myself to memorize every bit of that moment. And I did.

As my children have grown, the milestones are fewer and farther between. Riding a bike. Losing that first tooth. Starting school. There are months between these milestones...even years. These milestones mark large strides toward independence. And while I sometimes think that it would be nice if my children would stay this age forever...I look forward to their autonomy. After all, it is the ultimate goal of parenthood.

The past week, a major milestone was reached in our house. One that might go unnoticed by some, but, one I choose to celebrate. A fairly major, pivotal milestone, if you ask me.

For the first time in the history of my childrens' lives, and mine as a mother, I didn't have to clean vomit out of comforters, sheets, carpet, clothes, body parts, bathroom floors, or their hair, as a stomach virus made its' rounds among them.

Avery, the over-achiever that he is, even puked in a bucket, dumped it in the toilet, washed the bucket, washed his hands...THEN woke me up and told me he puked!

Damn, they make me proud!

Again...

I climbed back up on top of an old soap box of mine again...I couldn't help it.

I bought myself an early Christmas present the other day. I bought the New Super Mario Brothers for Wii. It's like the OLD SCHOOL Super Mario Brothers that we grew up on. I guess I should only speak for my own age...It's the OLD SCHOOL Super Mario Brothers that I grew up on!

I've been eyeballing the game since it's release.

The other night, Jack started puking, and ruined our plans for hanging out with friends. Desperate for entertainment, I broke down and bought the game and a box of wine, for a fun filled night with two of the coolest plumbers I know.

I love the game.

It contains the same old busting of bricks, collecting of coins, shooting of fireballs, jumping of the flag pole, and slaying of the dragon, that I remember fondly from the original.

However, it also showcases the endless lives, countless continues, and superfluous save flags found throughout the levels, TO WHICH, this coddled generation of prepubescent pantywaists, have grown so accustomed!!

Avery watched me struggle with a particularly hard world, then asked for a turn to conquer it.

I begrudgingly happily shared my new toy.

Within minutes of the controller entering his hands, the kid found some "Luigi guide" option that I didn't know existed. He was able to watch a computerized Luigi reveal the secrets of the level, and effortlessly make it to the end. Once the "guide" completed the level, it gave Avery the option of trying it himself...or, or...OR...you guessed it...MOVING ON TO THE NEXT LEVEL!!!

Avery looked up at me, and said, "OH SA-WEET! LOOK, MOM! I just beat the level!"

I flipped my shit.

Part of me was still frustrated from my struggle with the level, and having the computerized Luigi throw it all up in my face how simple it acutally was...but, mostly, I was pissed at this lazy, sorry excuse for a generation of kids we're raising!!

I snatched the controller out of his hand, and started the ranting and raving...

"NO WAY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HAD TO DO, WHEN I WAS A KID, AND A LEVEL WAS HARD? I HAD TO FIGURE IT OUT FOR MYSELF. NO "GUIDE" TO SHOW ME THE WAY. NO INTERNET FOR CHEAT CODES. UH-UH. JUST BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS. AND ONLY THREE LIVES!! DID YA HEAR THAT? THREE. NOT FIVE. NO ENDLESS CONTINUES. NO SAVES. UH-UH. THREE LIVES. ANY LIVES OVER THAT, HAD TO BE EARNED!! IF YOU WERE ON LEVEL 8-4, AND ABOUT TO BEAT THE DRAGON, AND BEAT THE GAME...AND YOU DIED...YOU WENT ALL.THE.WAY.BACK.TO.THE.BEGINNING!! AND YOU STARTED THE FRICK OVER!! WHY EVEN PLAY THE GAME? WHY NOT JUST LET LUIGI PLAY IT FOR YOU, HUH? WHEN I WAS A KID..."

Jake interrupted me. Mocking, "Easy, Grandma, you're scaring the kids."

All the kids laughed and taunted me, with their father.

So, now...NOW? None of them are allowed to play my video game!

Proof...

The other day, I told you about a conversation I'd had with Jack about Santa. He asked me if the big guy was real...I wasn't going to lie, and gave him the opportunity to figure out for himself who likely puts the presents under the tree.

He came up with midgets.

The only thing that made sense in is six year old brain, was that midgets left the presents there for him. A fat man in fur wouldn't fit...and it was ridiculous, to him, to think that Mom and Dad were responsible.

Thank goodness he's so pretty!

Well, lo and behold, tonight at the second grade Christmas program at the school...where, by the way, his sister delivered the loudest line of the night and absolutely NAILED her teddy bear performance to the effing wall...

One of the other little second graders was dressed as Santa...


Having totally forgotten about our previous conversation...seeing a Santa of short stature didn't really ring a bell, with me.

Oh, but, it sure did with Jack.

When the vertically challenged Saint Nicholas took the stage to deliver his lines, Jack whipped his head around to me, and boasted, "Do you see that? A midget Santa! I TOLD YOU!!"

Master of my domain...

Yes...I am the master of my domain!

I am also the master of this domain...

www.nikkibullockphotography.com

Yay, me!

While researching domain names, I ran across some information that was a bit disheartening.

I'm not the only Nikki Bullock in the world! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!

All that bullshit my parents spewed about me being special...telling me that there was no one else like me in this whole wide world...BULLSHIT!

A quick Google search, and I found out that, not only is there already a Nikki B Photography somewhere in the US, by someone named Nikki B-something, or other...there is another "Nikki Bullock" in the world. Separate and apart from me, and Nikki B-something, or other!!

And...AND...

This "Nikki Bullock" hoochie, is also a photographer!!

AND...AND...

She's in Australia!

Do you know what that means?

Her accent is way hotter than mine (pronounced 'm-aah-n'...like a big ole redneck)!!

Effing bitch!

Ants marching...

My cousin has a brain tumor.

It's wrapped around his auditory nerve, and he lost his hearing in his left ear.

He's an evangelist.

He's a singer.

It sucks.

He doesn't deserve that.

They don't think it's cancer, and he's having surgery in a week.

My brother's 12 year old daughter is autistic.

His family just visited us for the holidays for the first time in...I don't even remember how long...because her behavior was too bad for them to travel with her.

He and his wife have been pushed to every emotional, psychological, and physical ledge, that a person could imagine. And some that you couldn't even fathom.

It's not fair.

He doesn't deserve that.

When Joey died, I liked to tell myself that there was some lesson to be learned. That it happened for a reason. I used to find comfort in that. Comforted by the idea of a greater good...a higher purpose...a destiny.

However, standing at this point in my life...having had a few more life experiences...I don't think that's true anymore.

I hear people say all the time..."It's God's will." Or, "God has a plan."

Bullshit...

Applying that theory to my cousin, and my brother's life...and even my own...that would make God cruel. To cause, or allow the suffering of one person, to teach a lesson to another? WTF?

The more I think about God...the more I tend to agree that he is just a kid with an ant farm.

I actually find this thought much more comforting.

Thanksgiving numbers...

- 5 day weekend

- 6 photo shoots

- 4,000 pictures taken

- 3 days spent with my brother and his family

- 30 enchiladas cooked

- 2 birthday parties with the in-laws

- 1 nasty cold

- 150 dollars saved on Black Friday

- 10 houseguests

- 2 boxes of wine

- 24 bottles of beer

- and only 25 days left until Christmas

WOW!

Sneak peek...

I have been so busy taking pictures for other people's Christmas cards...that I almost forgot about our Christmas cards.

We're still making final touches.

In honor of Awkward Family Photos everywhere...Merry Christmas, Dammit!!

Conversations in the car...

Jack and I were alone in the car. Christmas music was on the radio. I was dying a little inside...

Jack: Mom. I love Christmas songs. You 'member that one about the girl farting on Santa...then, Santa farts when he's leaving presents under the tree? That song is hilarious!

Me: Son, farts are funny, I don't care who ya are!

*We laugh. A sure fire way to bond with your boy, is to talk about farts together*

Jack: Hey, Mom. Is Santa real?

*Oh my dear sweet Jesus!! This is the moment I've been waiting for. Finally, I can put an end to these reindeer games!*

Me: Hmmmmm...I am really glad you asked that question. What do you think?

Jack: I think he's real.

*Fuck! I thought this was my moment...DAMMIT!*

Jack: No...wait.

*YES!! Hope!!*

Jack: He's not real. No way. He can't be real. A fat man can't fit down the chimney. It doesn't make sense.

*OMG...it's over. All the stress. All the sneaking. All the lies. It's over!!*

Me: You're a smart kid. So, if Santa isn't real, then, who do you think leaves those presents under the tree?

*Please say Mom and Dad...Please say Mom and Dad...PLEEEEEEASE SAY MOM AND DAD!!!*

Jack: Midgets. I don't believe in Santa...but, I do believe in midgets.

Me: What?! Midgets?! Seriously?!

Jack: Yeah, Mom, it's the only thing that makes sense.

*SHOOT ME NOW!!! Limited by the logical capabilities of THIS CHILD...he's never gonna figure it out, and I'm gonna have to pretend to be Santa FOREVER!!!*

Consolation...

Thanks to the guilt trip the encouragement of a few of you guys...we have a new rat in the house. A welcomed guest. One we did not greet with gunfire!

My mom couldn't stand it, and in the middle of dinner on Friday night, she brought over a new rat, identical to Marly. Just a newer model. I mean, like, literally, in the MIDDLE of dinner. Lily opened the box, and the new girl jumped into her nachos.

She was home!

Losing Marly was a bit traumatic for Lily. Trauma that was possibly compounded by her bonehead brother.

The other day, when I told Lily to come into our room. That we needed to talk to her. The little brother followed. He could tell I was a bit somber, and I could tell that he thought she was in trouble. He was humming, and skipping, and bouncing...elated that her ass was on the chopping block, and not his!

There wasn't an easy way to tell her. I just said it. "Lil. I'm sorry, sweetie, but, I went to check on Marly, and she died."

I'd never seen tears appear that fast. In a second, she was bawling, but, managed to mutter, "Awwwwwwww...mom...I miss MarMar," as she fell into my lap.

I held her, and rocked her. Jake talked to her in his voice that is reserved for his baby girl...and no one else.

Jack was watching the whole thing. Wide-eyed and worried. He has a tender heart, and didn't like seeing his sister so upset. He approached her, not knowing what to say, but, knowing he should say something.

Finally, in the softest, sweetest voice he could serve, he said, "Awwwww, Sister. It's okay. Dad's gonna die, too."

Note to self: WTF?!? Teach the boy that a simple 'I'm sorry' is all that is needed for the recently bereaved!

Lucky for Lily, she tunes her brothers out completely, and I don't think she even heard him.

Jake did however, and has a checkup scheduled with the doctor for tomorrow!

I heart faces...

Click the button to see the entries this week!
I took pictures of a childhood friend of mine, and her family this weekend. It was such a fun shoot...her boys are RIDICULOUSLY beautiful!

I was soooooo excited when I saw that this week's challenge was "Autumn Beauty"! I snapped this pic while Dad was keeping Creed entertained in between poses. Well, when I say 'poses,' I mean as much posing as you can do with little ones.

I loved this pic, and a few dry, brittle, beautifully colored leaves on the ground, is about as much "autumn beauty" as we get here in my neck of the woods!!

Have a good week, y'all!

Outlook...

If things are looking bleak and dreary...

Wait just a little while...things will change!


These two photos were taken about an hour apart, in my neighborhood!

Heartless...

This probably isn't the coldest story ever told, but it is graphic, and gross, and inhumane, in some cultures unethical, sad, bloody, and someone dies at the end. And it's about rats. Not our well loved and missed Marly *pour one for muh homie* but, wild rats. And you've seen how we treat rats around here. We're ruthless. RA-HU.THLESS!

You've been warned...

I prefer any rats that I encounter, to be without a pulse! It's the only thing that will stop the scurrying.

Truthfully, I'm even afraid of dead mice. Ya know...on the off chance that Jesus decides to perform that miracle I've been asking for, and he resurrects the damned thing, bringing the bugger's scurry back! Totally irrational fear. I know. I'm working on it. My therapist thinks we're close.

We have every intention of being humane...and do our best, but, for some reason, our methods of terminating the rats, usually end with it dying a slow, miserable, painful death.

This rat was GINORMOUS, and was sitting by our back sliding door, teasing the dog. Tucker was going insane. As was I. For the sake of our emotional and psychological stability, the rat had to die.

We knew from past experience, that the airsoft guns couldn't handle a job this big. It could barely handle a tiny little run of the mill mouse. This mofo was GINORMOUS!

I'm totally not exaggerating. From his head, to the tip of his tail, was probably about 10 inches! And I'm not talking about what Jake would call 10 inches. Uh-uh. I'm talking about a REAL. TEN. INCHES.

We decided on the BB gun, for a quick, painless kill, in order to be more humane to the furry little bastard who, in my book, the world could do without. I know. I know. The circle of life, and all that jazz...

My brave husband laid on the patio and saw the rat underneath the grill. He had the shot. He aimed. He fired. In an instant, the BB shot out of the gun, hit it's target, bounced off the patio, shot right back at us, in front of Jake's face, and hit our inflatable hot tub. Yes. We have an inflatable hot tub. And it's awesome!

I temporarily forgot about the rat, and was deeply concerned about my hot tub. I was yelling at Jake, "Holy Shit, we forgot about the tub. You better not have popped a hole in my tub!" Jake says, "Oh shit! Damn, we did not think about that."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

The dog was going BATSHIT CRAZY, as was the writhing, flopping, profusely bleeding, rat, with a GSW to the head. Blood was flying, as the dog grabbed the rat. I freaked out, "DO RATS CARRY RABIES. TUCKER IS DUE FOR A RABIES SHOT. WHAT IF HE GETS RABIES? IF HE GETS RABIES WE HAVE TO KILL HIM." Jake was yelling at me, and with me, "NIKKI, WILL YOU CHILL!! TUCKER, DROP IT. DROP IT." Like a good dog, he relinquished the rat and ran for the back door. He was terrified, and shaking. As was I.

We watched the thing flop for a few more seconds, Tucker and I from inside the house, Jake and the rat on the outside. Then, like a whisper, he went to be with the lord. Alright, so, it was more like a blood curdling shriek of agony and despair...but, he's nowhere near my effing house at peace now, that's all that matters.

This is Jake, and his kill...

This is the evidence...


He was DOA, and forensics have shown that upon the bullet's entry, the rat's head went back, and to the left.

Published...

Remember this photo...

I entered it in the Blurb Book contest at I heart faces...and it was chosen, along with 71 other photos, to be featured in the book!

You can check out the book HERE, and see all the amazing faces!

YAY ME!

Happy Hump Day!

Post it Note Tuesday...

Go HERE to make your own Post It Notes. Create your own Post It Note Tuesday blog post, then, go HERE, to link up at Supah Mommy's and check out all the other Post Its.

Here's mines...

Marly and she...

The girl is such a responsible child. She is responsible with her chores, her homework, her belongings, her money. She is patient and focused...and couldn't be any less like me, or any more like her father!!

Early in the year, Lily decided that she wanted a hamster. She began saving her money. For weeks, and months, she resisted the temptation of instant gratification. While her brothers were blowing their money on candy, or trips to the dollar store, Lily added to her hamster fund, one dollar at a time.

After a few months, she had saved enough money to buy the necessities on craigslist, and adopt a rescued hamster at the pet store. She was so proud, and in spite of my serious disdain for all things that scurry, I welcomed Marly into our home.

Lily proved to be a responsible pet owner, too. She kept up with the feeding and the cage cleaning, without the need for constant nagging from me.

Yesterday morning, I discovered that the furball was dead. I had to sit my baby girl down, and carefully break the news, that would undoubtedly break her heart.


It sucked...

The girl cried and cried, and when she ran out of tears, she made a decision. She is saving her money, and one dollar at a time, she will add to her Marly II fund.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

See that vest up there in the photo?

It's mine.

I was wearing it one night, when we were hanging out at a friends' house. After a couple of beers, the boys thought it would be so funny to try it on. S tried it on, and I snapped this pic.

*Huh...he was right! It is hilarious now that I see it plastered on the web!!*

*Speaking of...Crystal Balls, Victor...please don't tell on me!*

Jake tried it on, and we laughed a little bit more. We eventually ran out of jokes about the vest, changed the subject and we hurried out the door to fetch a lime before the imbibing got out of hand, and we were stranded.

Jake ran into the convenient store, leaving S and I chit-chatting in the car. We were watching through the windows of the 7-11, as Jake strolled the aisles, with his manly strut...IN A TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST!

My first thought was, Huh...my husband is so cool. He can just walk right in there with that TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST on...and not think a thing of it. Look how he is sportin' that vest without a care in the world about what other people think of him. He even looks cute in that little bitty vest. Damn, I love that man.

S was laughing and said, "Does he know he's wearing the vest?"

I said, "Holy shit! He's forgotten that he's wearing that fucking vest!"

At this point in the story, I wish I could say, that I felt sorry for the man, and waited until he was back in the car to tell him that he'd just worn the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST...IN PUBLIC!!

But that would be no fun...at all!

S and I were HYSTERICAL, and decided it was best for all parties involved, if we fucked with him a little bit.

When I could gather enough air to form actual words...I called Jake on his cell.

S and I watched through the windows, as Jake reached for his phone.

He answered, and I covered my mouth a bit with my hand, and loudly whispered, "Dude...don't look now..."

Jake says, "WHAT? Why what's up," and he nervously looked around.

Seeing his confusion, and muffling laughter, I said, "I SAID DON'T LOOK! Dude, I don't know if you're aware, or not...but...you're still wearing the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST!"

We watched as Jake looked down and saw the vest.

We could actually see the testosterone drain out of his body. His shoulders slumped, he hung his head, and like a bitch who'd just lost her bra in a game of strip poker, Jake furiously tried to cover the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST, with his arms.

As I watched my beloved, giggle, nervously shift his weight from one foot to the other...still desperately trying to hide the vest, I thought, Huh...look how gay my husband looks right now!

Post it Note Tuesday...

Another rendition. I love this carnival!! Click the button above to play along and read Supah Mommy and the rest of her posse's Post it Notes. Here's mine...

We got lasers...

They got candy...




We got lasers...







The boys threw a hissy fit, and didn't want to dress up. So, we opted out of the costume thing for the concert. That is, except for that wascally wabbit, Shelly, and my husband, who dressed as a 'creepy, sleazy, pedophile' with that damn mustache!

He thinks it's hilarious that it grosses me out. I think it's hilarious that until he either shaves that thing off, or grows some supplemental hair around it...he has chosen a life of celibacy!

How much for that arm over there?

"So, listen up, babe. This is our new life/medical insurance information. I just renewed it."

I was only halfway listening. I really should pay more attention to this kinda stuff, but, like the finances, this is one of those things that Jake handles. Alone.

Without turning from the monitor, I say, "Sounds good, honey, whatever you think."

Jake, not realizing that I wasn't paying too much attention, continues, "...and the Accidental Death and Dismemberment coverage is whatever-hundred thousand."

*That word is weird. Dismemberment. Dismemberment is what serial killers do to bodies they are trying to hide.*

Distracted by the word, I say, "Dismemberment. Is that, like, if you lose an arm, or something?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

I'm still turning this word over and over in my head, I finally turn from the computer and say, "So, if you lose an arm, I get whatever-hundred thousand dollars?"

Jake looks up from his computer and my eye catches his. He sees where I'm going with this, and before the question is even asked, he says, "Uh...NO!"

"Whatever-hundred thousand dollars...FOR YOUR ARM? You think they're worth more than that? Because, I would consider sacrificing an arm for a nice chunk of cash."

Emphatically, Jake says, "NO FUCKING WAY! Not even for a million dollars. NO WAY!!"

Raising the 'emphatic' bar, I say, "ONE MILLION?!?! YOU WOULDN'T GIVE UP YOUR ARM FOR A MILLION DOLLARS?! I think I might do it! I mean, you would still love me if I only had one arm, right?"

Thinking, which is not what a woman wants her husband to do after being asked this question, Jake says, "Uh...I don't...may...I guess I would, but, I WOULDN'T GIVE UP MY ARM!! Not even for a million dollars!!"

After a little banter, I let it go. We each turn back to our computers, clicking our mice.

A few minutes pass, and I'm sure Jake is no longer thinking about it, but, I was.

Breaking the silence, I say, "Honey, what about a finger? How much would it take for you to give up a finger?"

"What the fuck's wrong with you? It would take a lot. Maybe a hundred thousand. I like all my parts. All of them. I need all my fingers. Not even for the well-being of our family. I'd rather stress over money for the rest of our lives and have all my parts, than live the rest of it worry free, without an appendage! You're such a freak!"

"Well, you're a selfish prick!"

What about you? How much are your arms/fingers/other parts worth?

Post It Note Tuesday...

I'm found this carnival via my crazy Canadian friend, Melinda. It looks like fun, and it's still Tuesday for a little while longer.

So, here goes...

Pothead...

I love my pot!

I love the way it makes me feel.

My head feels clearer when I use the pot.

I heart my pot...A LOT!

I even had to Google how often you can safely use the pot.

I thought I might OD on the pot. Turns out...what your stoner friends told you, is true. You can't overdose on the pot!

So, to cope with the allergy symptoms I've been suffering this season...I've become a pothead!

A Neti pothead, that is!!

All Hallows Eve...

Totally ditching the kids this Halloween for a bad ass concert!

Don't worry, they'll be fine. You give a kid a bucket of candy...they forget all about the neglect!

We saw these guys in Austin at ACL...and this is the concert we were trying to get into when Jake was snapped and curtsied at, by two gay, middle aged men.

Ghostland Observatory.

They are RIDICULOUS, and put on one helluva show. Complete with lasers and glow sticks!! Yeah, it's that kinda party.

Our friends are coming up from Austin, and my good friend D, from high school, and her husband are hanging with us.

D and J are dressing up as the Queen of Hearts and the Madd Hatter from Alice...Tucker and his girl are gonna come up with something...which just leaves Jake and I.

Jake really doesn't want to dress up...and I wanna do something that I'll be able to be comfortable in for the show.

What'd'ya think? What should I dress up as?

I have a fro that would be fun...and thought about dressing up as the lead singer with tight ass jeans, braids, and aviators.

Are you guys dressing up this year? If so...I need ideas. Cheap, easy, ideas conducive for the groove that I'll be getting on!

Priorities...

We're on a pretty tight budget.

You know, since I don't have a job that pays me a respectable sum of money...and because those assholes won't let me into nursing school!

Yesterday, at the grocery store, I was given a set dollar amount, not to exceed.

In the check out line, as my total grew and grew, then teetered just over the edge of my limit...I was forced to make a decision.

A decision that completely revealed my priorites.

I put back a bottle of these...

That would help to keep Jake and I healthy during flu season, to buy a box of this...


That would help me get my drink on, this weekend.

Cast your stones, if you must...they won't hurt me, because I'll be buzzin'!

Scrooge...

It's coming.

No matter how deep I dig my heels into October, it's coming to an end. I'm sure November is gonna do the same damn thing. Then, December will come along, thumbing her nose at me, as she whizzes right by!

Yes, December is a she...cuz she's a bitch!!

I lovelovelovelove spending time with family and all the good food during the holidays.

That's it!!

I hate every other part of it!!

It's ridiculous. I bet if Jesus were here, he would even think it was a little silly. I always hear, "Jesus is the reason for the season." I call bullshit on that.

I can guarantee that kids only have their minds on one man during the holidays...and sorry, Jesus, that man is Santa!!

I can also guarantee that Jesus was the furthest thing from my mind last year when I had a glass or two, too much wine, and verbally assaulted my SIL, over a giant chartreuse purse, during a Chinese gift exchange. We're still cool, though. It wasn't the first time it happened...and it likely, won't be the last!

Speaking of Chinese gift exchanges, no one was thinking about Jesus when Jake and I someone wrapped up a GI-normous summer sausage and two cheeseballs up, to look like...well, the male genitalia, because we thought it was hilarious they were sick and twisted!! And the rest of the family wasn't thinking about Jesus either, when they gave it to Jake's grandmother to open!!

I digress...

Alas, there is one more part of the holidays that I heart. It's actually my fave-avorite part of all...

HOLIDAY CARDS!!

We plan these year/s in advance because we have so much fun. The kids love it, and it's a blast seeing what we can come up with each year!

Here are the last three year's cards...

Last night we photographed and I worked on this year's Christmas card! Dude, I'm stoked!

I was talking about it on Facebook, and people were calling me 'over achiever' and 'show off.' I would like to address those claims.

First, I am anything BUT an over achiever. I have, and from what I can tell, always will, do the bare minimum to squeak by. I set goals and work for them. However, I will slack off in the beginning, but finish HELLA strong!! It's just how I roll, yo. I'm lazy. Lazy people are NOT over-achievers!!

Second, the claims that I'm a 'show off.' Well, that may be partly true, but these holiday cards are the only joy I get out of the season. I hate Christmas. All the shopping, all the wrapping, all the stress, the financial drain, all the 'I want this, I want that'!! Ugh...it makes me clench my teeth just thinking about it!! Anyway, these cards are my most favorite part...so, maybe I'm showing off. But, Dammit Jim, just let me have my moment, 'kay?!

I'm dying to show you 2009's card, but, I think I should at least wait until after Halloween to get them out!!

Oh, yeah! That reminds me. Some of you bloggy friends of mine, have become well, friends. If you would trust me, and you don't think it's too weird, I'd love to have some of your addresses for when we send out cards. If you wouldn't mind emailing them to me.

I guess if you don't trust me, and you do think it's too weird...then, we just aren't that good of friends, now are we? And, I'm hurt!

300...and a giveaway!

This is my 300th post. It really doesn't mean shit, but, I thought it was a nice round number, on which, to announce my first giveaway winner!

I really appreciate all your help with the name of my photography business.

The winner of the Target gift card, for, like, $10.83 goes to...

Kameron at A Wrinkle in Time...with "Phuckin' Photography".

I LOVED IT!!

Albeit a kickass name...I can't use it. I mean, I could. But, I probably wouldn't be a very successful photographer.

I can just see all the ladies at the church potluck...

"Oh, I LOVED your maternity pictures. Who did them?"

"Nikki at Phuckin' Photography. Aren't they great?"

Silence would ensue...awkward glances...and nary a referral!!

So, there is another winner.

Brooke at Dinkypops No More! She was the first to suggest "Nikki B Photography," and I think it sounds great!

Sorry, Brooke. You're stuck with the WalMart gift card!!

Thanks so much, guys!!

Smarty pants...

We took the kids to the movies this weekend to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in 3D.

Decent enough show. The 3D effects kept us entertained when the plot started to drag.

At the end of the movie, I took this picture...

I looked at it when we got to the car and thought Jack's teeth looked funny. In the pic, it looks like he's missing at least one tooth.

I turned around to look at him, and said, "Jack...open your mouth. Did you lose a tooth? Why didn't you tell me you lost a tooth?"

He said, "I lost a tooth? Lemme see! Is the tooth fairy coming? You're right, Avery, it didn't even hurt. Ye-aaaah!"

I grabbed his lips and stretched them, to get a good look. He hadn't lost a tooth, and I assumed it was his lip or tongue covering them in the picture.

Then, I started really looking at his teeth. And they were tiny. I mean, freakishly small, and I started freaking out a bit.

I said, "JAKE...JAKE...LOOK! Look at his teeth! What's wrong with them? What happened? Jack...what happened? Did you bang your teeth or jaw on the concrete? Jake...his teeth are jammed further up in his head. They're shrinking!! Why would his teeth BE SHRINKING?! What happened, buddy?"

Jake just stared at me, blankly.

I said, "What? What do you think happened? Should we take him to the dentist?"

Jake, began to slowly shake his head, and said, "Nikki...seriously?"

"WHAT?! His teeth should not be SHRINKING!! Something happened!"

Jake just stared. Waiting. Giving me a chance to redeem myself.

"WHAT?! Something is wrong with his frickin' teeth!! Would you just quit shaking your head at me!! WHAT?!"

I had no idea that I had just lost all of my cool points.

As if he were mercifully killing a lame dog with a bullet to the head, he finally said, "His teeth aren't shrinking, you freak...he's growing!"

"Ooooooooh!! Yeah...that does make more sense, doesn't it!"

¯...Somebody once told me, the world is gonna roll me...¯...I ain't the sharpest tool in the she-ed...¯

Taking care of MORE business...

I've been in a bit of a funk over the last few days.

Just blah...

That is, until Kelly awarded me this...

Nice, right? I haven't received an award in a long time. It's always good to feel the love!! Thanks a ton, Kelly!! You can find her here!

Then...THEN...the very next day, I received ANOTHER award!!

From Shelly!


Thanks so much, Shelly...I love feelin' the love!! You guys can find her here!

Another bit of "business"...

I so appreciate all of your ideas for my photography. It took MrsW and my friends from high school, Kristy, and Chris, to remind me that I have other names!! I kinda forgot that I had my real name, Nicole, and maiden name, Bownds, to add to my choices!!

Kam's idea was tacky, and inappropriate, and crude...AND I LOVED IT! But, I'm pretty sure that "Phuckin' Photography" probably wouldn't fly! Not far, anyway!

Anyway, you guys gave me lots of good ideas, and I'll let you know who gets the gift card tomorrow.