So, did anyone notice anything special about the picture I posted? Anyone? Bueller?

Look a little closer and you'll see that my baby girl's scrumptious cheeks are RASH FREE! Thank you, Aveeno baby wash and Hydrocortisone cream. No more angry red hives or crusty ears. Now I can move on to worrying about other things, like that annoying flat spot she's developing from having a right side preference, or that her poop may possibly not be the right shade of honey Dijon yellow. Lets hope I learn to stop obsessing over everything by the time she's twelve.



My emotional state has improved tenfold in the past week or so. Thanks, in part, to a massive blow out in which I aired all my thoughts and fears to DH and he thankfully didn't declare me loony toons and run for the hills. And also thanks to a baby who sleeps amazingly well so I haven't had to deal with any sleep deprivation thus far.

I used to think that a newborn being a good sleeper was a myth and anyone who said they had one was lying through their teeth (although I still secretly hated them and wanted to land a swift punch right in their well-rested eye). A quick read through my archives will have you understanding the sleep hell I dealt with when Beckett was a baby. But Avonlea is different. I now know that easy babies DO exist. I also know I had every reason to hate those bitches because it is A-FLIPPING-MAZING. You're free to hate me, too. But I was about due for an easy one this time around, if you ask me. DH is loving it too, because it means he doesn't have to walk a stroller around the block at three in the morning every. single. day. Thanks for that, Beckett. Yes, the man is a saint.

I should probably stop talking about it now, because my superstitious subconscious won't stop whispering that it's going to come back and bite me in the ass in a couple months. That'd be my luck.

We have a busy weekend ahead, filled with cleaning and packing and my first Tupperware party tomorrow. (Which, by the way, if you're just dying to get your hands on some air-tight-sealed goodness, jump over to my website!) Avonlea has an appointment with our chiropractor tomorrow afternoon to deal with this pesky side preference. Sunday will be devoted to packing, making lists, checking off those lists and then checking again to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, as well as cat-proofing the house so they can't destroy anything while we're gone. And then we're leaving bright and early Monday morning for the 8-hour trip to the land of cheese curds and no cell phone service, aka Wisconsin.

Eight hours.

With three kids.

I have a feeling the DVD player in the Pilot will become my new best friend, so much so that I may want to name my next child after it, much like babies end up being named Bob or Gary thanks to a good anesthesiologist. Samsung Melban has a nice ring to it.

So. We are five days into being a family of five. Five! Five days seems ridiculously small when you're talking about something that will be around for the rest of your life, but also incredibly long when you remember being in a moment of feeling that the pain would never end and OMG THIS BABY IS NEVER COMING OUT. So yeah, wow, it's already been five days since I experienced that and conquered it. Tomorrow is Saturday, and then it's Sunday, and then Monday morning will dawn, Shelby will go back to work and I'll be thrust into dealing with three children by myself. Which is, in a word, terrifying.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Lots of people have been asking how the baby is, and how the boys are doing and if they are in love with their sister. The answers are wonderful, pretty good considering, and most of the time.

Avonlea is fabulous and beautiful and perfect. She's a great nurser, is letting us get a fair amount of sleep and seems to be in perfect working order as far as five-day-old babies go. She's a pretty chilled out baby, which I'm scared to get excited about since Beckett was such a hellbeast, but I'm hoping our luck continues in that area. Her umbilical stump fell off today and I totally cried because she's changing so much already and um, wasn't it just a few days ago that she was still INSIDE ME? Sheesh.

The boys are really doing fantastic, considering their world has just been dramatically interrupted by this tiny pink yelling creature. Sawyer doesn't seem to be phased much at all. He goes about his day as he normally would, occasionally walking over to ask if he can hold "his baby." He likes to tell me about the things he's going to do with her when she's bigger, his favorites being play tag and drive with his cars. Beckett has been acting out a small bit, but doesn't seem to be jealous. I've been making it a point to give him lots of cuddles and remind him that he's still my baby too. He's incredibly sweet and loves to kiss her head, and when she yells he asks, "What did she say?" Too stinkin' cute.

And Shelby is, of course, amazing. He is the perfect husband and perfect daddy and there are several moments throughout each day that I look at him and am just overcome with emotion at how I got so lucky. That sounds ridiculously cheesy, but guys, this man is seriously the kind you just don't find very often. He makes me dinner, gets me Dunkin' Donuts whenever I want and watches the baby in the evenings so I can get a few hours of sleep. Avonlea has him wrapped about a dozen times tightly around her finger and it is absolutely adorable to watch.

And then there's me. Ha. I'm doing.. okay. Mostly okay. But sometimes not okay at all. Physically, I'm healing rapidly. Thanks to a fabulous waterbirth I have no tears to worry about, which is awesome. I'm not too fatigued and the afterpains are finally gone (HATE those suckers). My belly is shrinking and I'm counting down the weeks until I can start exercising and get my body back. Oh, how I can't wait to have my body back. I feel so unattractive right now. I know that will come with time though.

Mentally? Emotionally? Well, that's a different story. The first couple days were great. I felt on top of the world, completely overjoyed with my baby girl and had a constant smile on my face. I was inviting visitors to come see us the day after she was born. My midwife visited on Tuesday and warned that some moms experience a flood of emotions on the third day and I admit it - I fully expected to skip that whole bit.

And then the third day came. With it came the tears. Oh my goodness, the tears. Out of absolutely nowhere and for absolutely no reason. I'd be standing at the counter eating a bite of chicken and just start bawling. I began to feel panicked, anxious, overwhelmed and sad. The What Ifs started flowing in. What if I can't handle this at all when Shelby goes back to work? What if she's a high-needs baby like Beckett was? What if I just lose it in the middle of the day and I have no one to call, no one to rescue me?

There is also extreme sorrow over not having my family here, my mom in particular. When Sawyer was born, she had a flexible job and we could go visit her at work every single day. She lived two blocks away and could swoop in any time I needed her, for any reason. Then came Beckett, and although she was working a different job, she was still available almost all the time and if it weren't for that, I'd have gone insane. So to not have her here at ALL? With a brand new baby? It is killing me. I miss her so much. Nothing could have prepared me for how crippling it is to need someone near you and they just can't be there in person. Phone is wonderful - she has already saved me more than once just with calming words. But it's not the same.

Then there is the worry that the mental and emotional havoc I dealt with just a couple months before I got pregnant will return, in the form of horrible post-partum depression. I am scared. I still have my medication and I could easily start taking it again, but the thought of going back down that road of dependency is a double-edged sword. I have a gorgeous, healthy new daughter and a wonderfully supportive family. I should be bursting with happiness and it angers me that I let irrational worries cloud that positivity.

For now, I'm trying to just take it a day at time. Enjoy the moment and not worry about what will come tomorrow, because when it comes, I'll handle it - do I really have any other option?

Last night was a rough one but today has been good. I have to keep my focus on the good. And right this moment there is a daddy cooing at a tiny little baby as she kicks her feet and gazes at him with her big blue eyes - sounds like something pretty good I don't want to miss. Goodnight for now.

I don't much care for Valentine's Day, but my hubs is a sweetie so I wanted to do something for him without spending money. I also needed to practice hand-stitching quilt binding, and he likes showing his military pride. So voila, a quilted service flag is born. He loves it. :)

This is probably more suitable for Not Me! Monday, because it's more of a confession than anything else. But it's too hilarious not to blog. One of those moments where you say out loud, "I'm totally blogging this, honey, and the whole internet is going to laugh at you." You know you've had those moments.

So last night, we're laying in bed, laughing about an incident earlier in the day (and me making a mental note to blog about it) in which Beckett was fighting his nap and hollering from his crib. After about ten minutes of it, I turned to DH and said, "Well, what should we do with him?" Without missing a beat, he responded, "Give him a chocolate donut and tell him to go to sleep?"

We totally did give him that chocolate donut. And guess what? We got two hours of free time because the bribe worked and he went to sleep. My husband is a genius.

That lead to him mentioning to me that he had made the boys hot dog quesadillas for lunch.

"Come again?!"

"Yeah. Hot dog quesadillas. They needed meat in them and we didn't have any chicken left."

"Oh, you're so getting blogged TWICE now."

Yesterday, Sawyer helped me write out a birthday card for DH. I tried to instruct him in writing "Happy Birthday" but we ended up with "Happe" and then the B-I in birthday, plus a bunch of random letters. It still charmed the pants off DH though, of course.



Also. He gets the letters F and S confused, because they sound so similar. And he absolutely insists that his name is spelled F-A-W-Y-E-R. Ah well, what can ya do?



DH and I had a deliciously unhealthy birthday dinner at Outback, where I guiltlessly snarfed down a bloomin' onion, Caesar salad, bloomin' burger (okay, so I only ate half of that) and some fries. NOM NOM NOM.

Today I'm participating in MckMama's Not Me! Monday for the first time. Never heard of it? Then hop on over to her blog and read the rules so that you, too, can air your dirty laundry and not feel an ounce of guilt about it. Or at least, be able to find someone who totally did not do something just a little more scandalous than you.

So, on to my.. erm.. confessions.

Yesterday morning, I totally did not fall down the stairs while holding Beckett. We were not only about halfway down and thus fell a full 8-9 steps. As clumsy as I am, I did manage to keep him on top of me and break his fall, resulting in several lovely battle wounds for myself. And yes, I did check on the baby with the doppler and he/she is fine. No, I definitely do not have my big fat cushiony butt to thank for that. Do I?

I did not get a hankering for nachos at almost one this morning while watching Food Network. And I most certainly did not use being pregnant as an excuse to melt some shredded cheese over tortilla chips and indulge, at 1am. They were not tasty at all.

I have not been a lazy oaf for the past several weeks, spending most of my time on the couch. My laundry is not piling up and my kids definitely do not watch too much Dora and Blues Clues. I also have not trained Sawyer to do things like bring me clean diapers and throw the dirty ones away. Nope, definitely not already behaving like this in the first trimester of pregnancy.

And speaking of the first trimester, I do not already have to keep my pants unbuttoned at only 13 weeks pregnant. My parents, however, did get me two BellaBands for Christmas which have been a lifesaver for my chronically unbuttoned jeans.

My husband is not turning 27 today, and I am not turning 24 in a couple weeks. We are not getting older. It has not been ten years since he graduated high school and we certainly do not sometimes act like we still ARE in high school. Nope, not us.

And lastly, I am not still in my pajamas at almost noon and my kids are not eating waffles and bananas for lunch. Of course I have already been to the store for baking supplies to make DH's birthday cupcakes, and they are already in the oven.

Or.. not.

I was all geared up to write 30 posts in 30 days for NaBloPoMo. I had some ideas ready and planned to look to some other blogs for interesting writing prompts.

Then Halloween happened, and seemed to drain me of every ounce of energy and motivation I had, and I decided to take a short bloggy vacation instead. I haven't checked in on my Bloglines feeds in days and the 'new post' button on my dashboard has gone untouched. So, like a few others, I'm a drop-out. But that's okay! I'll enjoy reading a post a day for the whole month at my favorite blogs. I never was good at meeting deadlines anyhow.

And I have to say, the break has been nice and much-needed. I had a very ME weekend, which I don't do very often. Friday night, my mom and I treated ourselves to Starbucks. I sipped hot chocolate and munched a pumpkin cream cheese muffin as we sank ourselves into their big comfy chairs and had a nice chat. We try to do this about once a month and I always look forward to it. I'm so lucky that DH doesn't mind at all and in fact, encourages me to go out and leave the boys with him. He knows I need the break and is always good at reminding me that it's OKAY to want that break. Sometimes my mommy guilt clouds over me and I feel so bad leaving them for a few hours, but I feel so refreshed and reenergized when I do.

Saturday, I left Beckett with DH and took Sawyer with me to my sister's softball game. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a chance to do something with just him, and it was so nice. Seriously, you cannot believe how much easier it is to only have to worry about a two-year-old and no baby. I was able to actually sit down and STAY sitting down as he played around me. No fumbling a squirmy baby, no trying to discreetly nurse a distractable infant among dozens of people, no shushing or swaying or walking. Yes, I'm definitely one of the few mamas who can't wait for the baby stage to be over. I don't want my babies to stay babies. I love the age Sawyer is at and will be a much more stress-free mom when Beckett is there.

My judgement is probably clouded a little by the fact that he still wakes, oh, five or six times a night. Those of you who deal with a sporadic night-waker and still go on to have more kids, my hats are off to you. I'm just not that resilient I guess and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It is HARD. I thrive on sleep and am a wreck without it so this round is it for me, no more babies. DH agrees. So uh, any tips on breaking him of nursing every hour and a half at night would be much appreciated. For the gift of sanity, I would be forever indebted to you.

Saturday night, my parents watched the boys for us so we could make it to church. After two failed attempts at taking them with us, we've accepted the fact that we'll just have to wait until they're a little older to enjoy church as a family. It's either a battle to keep them quiet throughout the service (resulting in us paying attention to nothing but them and kind of defeating the purpose of going to church in the first place) or they scream for us the whole time in the nursery. Bless the little old lady that runs the place, she does try. But they just aren't comfortable with her and I won't force them to stay there and be hysterical the whole time.

So, we were able to enjoy the service alone for once and it was a nice breather. Afterwards, DH took the boys home and I went out for dinner with some friends I hadn't seen in awhile. I really owe him now because he allowed me TWO getaways this weekend. He's a brave man. I told him he needs to plan something with his friends and asked him, "Don't guys go out to dinner like women? Why can't you do that?"

"Oh, yes, I'll just call Larry and be like, 'Hey, you wanna hit Panera with me? Oh oh and there's a JoAnn's right there, we can make a night of it!'"

Judging by the high-pitched lispy voice he used, I'm guessing that's a no? Men are strange. Don't some guys do the beer and wings and sports thing? Mine is just weird I guess. But then again, I did marry him because he's not a typical man.

So, now we're at Monday morning yet again. We survived falling back an hour and the boys seem to be back on their normal schedule. I'm determined to make this week go by quickly, because Saturday is when I get to head to my hair dresser for a pretty drastic change and I'm antsy with anticipation. Maybe we'll hit up the Children's Museum and meet some friends for lunch. The days always seem to go so much quicker when we get out of the house.

And on that note, the baby is up.

We just got over a nasty cold a few weeks ago and already, we're getting hit again. A product of the moms group Halloween party we attended last week, I'm sure. The baby hasn't been sleeping more than two hours at a time for the past four nights and it's just a fabulously good time, let me tell you. Sawyer wore a permanent scowl today as he walked around and randomly wiped his nose on the furniture if I didn't catch him with a tissue soon enough.

Speaking of snotty noses, back when I was childless, yet apparently knew everything there was to know about child rearing (like we all did when we were still blissfully unaware, you know), I always scoffed at the children I'd see at the grocery store with crusty green mustaches. My child will never be dirty in public! *snort*

Then I had a Sawyer. And I realized that while nauseating and embarrassing enough to wear a disguise so as not to be recognized, quiet and crusty-faced is still better than a clean screamer. Because toddlers? They do not like it when you try to wipe their nose. In fact, mine dislikes it so much that he perfected the art of making it seem like I'm brutally beating him. Which, as you can imagine, doesn't go over well in public. I'll take a little bit of snot over the "pulling out my cell phone to call CPS" glares, thanks.

I'm just hoping this passes quickly, because it'll be a little hard for me to sit still for my tattoo on Friday if I'm sneezing and hacking up a lung all over the artist. Plus we were planning to hit up the pumpkin patch on Saturday and tackling that with an entire sick family is not on my list of fun things to do.

Luckily, both boys went to bed without incident for my mom last night while DH and I were out having a quiet dinner at The Melting Pot. Alone. No children. Yes, it was wonderful. There were roses and a card waiting for me on the table and we had a private corner booth that made it seem like we were the only patrons in the whole restaurant. And we left weighing about five pounds more than when we went in.

Tomorrow's installment: the husband's first tattoo (yes, I'm dragging him over to the dark side) and how I tried to defend myself from burglars with a broom stick. Mensa candidate right here, y'all.

Oh, and if you could, please clicky that Top Momma button at the top of the page! Or, if you're using a reader, you can just click here. Lets see how long I last!

Has it only been two years? The husband and I were married two years ago today but it seems like a lifetime ago. I don't remember life without him and I don't care to. We've known each other much longer than that, so maybe that's why.

We practically grew up together, playing on the same high school tennis team in a tiny Texas town. I first met him when I was 12, and secretly had a crush on him all through middle school. Once I got to high school, he was the guy all the girls were after; a senior and a quiet guy with a cute smile and a curl in his hair. And I was the timid freshman, sure that I didn't stand a chance at getting him to notice me but still determined to try.

I can still remember the team trip to Corpus Christie the summer before my freshman year. My friend Katie and I teased the crap out of him, stealing his hat and giggling as he chased us for it. I remember spending hours picking out my outfit to wear to the steakhouse that night, curling my hair just so and trying to suck my stomach in and stick my chest out as best I could. I remember watching him play a match from up in the stands with the senior girls, and them commenting on his cute butt. One of those girls would later date him, and many years after that, we'd visit her and her new husband on a trip back to Texas. It's so funny how things work out.

We did end up dating for a short time in high school, but not long enough to really even count as a relationship. My dad caught us kissing in the driveway once after practice, and I remember trying to pass it off as a dare from the other girls. But believe me, no one had to dare me to kiss him. I was plenty willing!

After he graduated, he moved to Arizona to go to a local college in Phoenix, and shortly after that, my dad's job relocated him and we moved to Indiana. I didn't talk to him for nearly two years. One day, I decided to send a note to his old email address and see if he still checked it. Much to my surprise, I received a response, and we began talking again. We'd talk on the phone a lot, just a platonic relationship. For me it was a way to hang on to the life I once knew.

A few months after we reconnected, he told me he was being sent to Indiana on a business trip. I was so incredibly excited and begged my mom to take me to see him. We hadn't lived here long and didn't know that Ft. Wayne was a two-hour drive north. But we made the trip, and had an amazing time. He kissed me in his hotel room that night and rekindled something I never thought would ever be again. My mom still to this day says that if she had known how far we would have to drive, we never would have gone. Thank goodness for small miracles, right?

After that, we talked non-stop. I entered my senior year of high school and had my fair share of boyfriends, but he was always in the back of my mind. For Spring Break that year, he invited me to come to Phoenix for a week, and I was ecstatic. I did go, and to describe it in one word: life-changing. I still can't believe my parents let me go, but I thank my lucky stars that they did. After returning home, I sent him an email and mustered up the guts to tell him in that email that I loved him. His response was less than stellar, because he didn't say it back. But I assured him my feelings would be the same if he ever changed his mind.

October of that same year, he came to Indiana again to visit me at college. Our time together then was very confusing, and I wasn't sure how I felt any more. But when I took him to the airport, I cried as he walked away from me and it was then that I knew I still loved him. When he returned home and called me that night, he finally said it back. We became an exclusive couple that night. The funniest part of this is that when we decided it, it was past midnight in Indiana but three hours behind in Arizona. So to determine what day would be the "official" day, we decided to use the time it was in our Texas hometown. It was just after 11pm on October 22, 2003.

Despite the distance, our relationship flourished, and five months later in March of 2004, he made the leap of faith to quit his job in Arizona, pack his things, and move to Indiana. It was an incredible decision to make in that he had no job lined up here and was just trusting that he would be able to find one. He lived with my parents (for much longer than expected, actually) and I am thankful every day that they took him in and allowed us to make things work. I was still at college at that time and would drive home every weekend to see him.

Sawyer was conceived three days before our one year dating anniversary, and I found out I was pregnant on Halloween. That event started a snowball of activity and when I was 14 weeks pregnant, January 5th, 2005, he proposed to me. Two months later, in March, we bought our first home and in May after I finished my sophomore year of college, I was able to finally come home and live in our house. Sawyer was born that July, and we were finally married three months later on October 22nd, 2005. Exactly two years after we started dating.

I always love telling our story because I think it's such an amazing example of fate and how everything happens for a reason. What if we hadn't moved to Indiana, or I hadn't ever emailed him, or he hadn't chosen to work for that particular company that sent him to Indiana? It's such a crazy chain reaction.

It sounds like such a short time, but like I said, it seems so, so much longer. We've been through so much and in that short time, we've had two children, one wedding, bought two houses and changed jobs twice. We've seen life, death, hardship, rejoicing and everything in between. And I wouldn't change a thing.

Happy two years of complete bliss to my amazing husband. You are my happy ending.

My husband and I are going to hell. We hid from the baby tonight. Yes, hid. As in, behind a blanket, holding perfectly still and trying not to laugh.

The boys were playing together with the magnets on the fridge and DH and I were watching TV on the couch. It was the much anticipate Rock of Love reunion and I was glued to the screen. Every now and then I'd hear Sawyer say, "Don't, Beckett. Beckett, stoooop it!" But no screaming or sounds of body parts being impaled with plastic alphabet magnets, so they were fine.

DH got up to peek over the bar at them, and he got too close because Beckett saw him. And when Beckett sees you, that's it. He's coming for you. The kid is like a bloodhound, I'm telling you. DH flew back onto the couch and whispered, "HIDE!!!" as he jerked a blanket over us. We huddled silently under the blanket for a few seconds until I peered out to make sure the coast was clear.

We were giggling and trying to be quiet, and then the shadow of his bald head appeared in the door way and we raised the blanket up to form a wall. I heard him shuffle onto the carpet, babble a bit, and then be still. We sat like that for a good five minutes, until he turned around and crawled back into the kitchen to resume tormenting his brother.

Yes, we are evil. Don't worry, the kids both definitely inherited that trait so there will be paybacks.

Good thing they're cute.

As you may have gathered from my last post, our house is sick today. It started with DH bringing a cold home a week and a half ago. Just your typical congestion and sneezing. He was over it in a few days, and by the weekend I thought the rest of us had gotten lucky and dodged it.

Not so. I started sneezing yesterday and by late afternoon, my head was spinning. I went to the store to search for some fabric storage options and had to leave my cart in the middle of the aisle and go directly home because I was worried I might pass out. I spent the rest of the evening on the couch, shivering and being achy all over. DH ended up taking me up to bed and piling four blankets on top of me, then shoving a heating pad underneath me, which did the trick to snap me out of the chill.

The baby must have sensed something was up because for the first time ever, he slept seven consecutive hours. And then four more on top of that. That's a record for him, and was much enjoyed by us. Thank you, Chunky.

This morning, I still couldn't get out of bed without my knees going weak, so DH played Super Dad and stayed home. I slept the majority of the day (which I haven't done since... hell, since I was pregnant with Sawyer) and by mid-afternoon, I was up and around again. Only to notice something a little off about Sawyer. And within twenty minutes, something was really off, because he spent the next few hours going into random fits of crying and twisting around on the floor. We concluded that he must be sick as well, which was heartbreaking to witness because I knew how awful I had felt last night and couldn't imagine how confusing that must be to a two-year-old.

The last time he was really sick was with a 12-hour stomach bug around Christmas, and he slept through most of it. (That was also when he painted my beige carpet a nice shade of orange with his puke. Fun times!) When he gets colds, it never seems to bother him. So seeing him this out of sorts was a new thing for me.

He went through bouts of wanting things, then not wanting them, crying, screaming, and then being happy again. He wouldn't even talk on the phone to Grandma, which is when I knew he must really feel awful. I finally convinced him to cuddle up on the couch with me and watch iCarly, and he seemed to feel much better after that. It probably also helped that his Tylenol kicked in around then. We called Grandma back and he croaked out in the saddest little voice, "I siiiick." Talk about a heartbreaker!

He's in bed now, so hopefully he'll feel better in the morning. Now I just have to hope and pray that Beckett doesn't get a nasty case of it, because he's a drama king on a normal day so I can just imagine the show we'll get when he is sick for the first time.

I am slowly making my way through my customs list. Today I finished a scrumptious minkee blankie set for a friend's son. Tonight I think I'm going to cut squares for a custom quilt and finish a diaper wallet, and tomorrow I'll embroider a big stack of fleece I have waiting to be made into loveys. Only... 15 left on the list. Gah.

I would have finished more today but Beckett decided he needed to be attached to my hip or he would die. It's a little difficult to run a sewing machine or a rotary cutter with a 22-pound growth protruding from one's hip. You know, the whole needing both hands thing. Any time I put him down he'd crawl after me and then do that silent cry with his mouth wide open like I'd told him I was giving him away to the Jehovah's Witnesses. I finally just gave up and help him most of the day.

However, I did manage to get both kids down for naps at the same time without a fuss, so score one for me. When they woke up, I was stir crazy so we headed out to the park across the street. Sawyer picked up some rocks and I let him bring them home. It was so neat to watch how he chose certain ones over others. As soon as I figure out how to do his nature table, I'll add them to it. I can't wait for the leaves to start falling so I can let him explore and collect some.

When we came back inside, I was in the office for a couple minutes and heard Sawyer climbing up onto a chair that I had left by the counter. I went out to catch him and was met with him holding an avocado that was missing a chunk, and green slime oozing from his mouth. This is hilarious to me because it opens up a whole new world of ways I can torment my children when they get older. Like spinach inside chocolate cupcakes. Much easier and more effective than Time Out. And funnier.

Since the skin was broken, I had to use the avocado right then, so I mashed some up for Beckett. We started bananas on Monday and he wasn't crazy about them, so I didn't have very high hopes for the green fruit. Well, you would have thought I was feeding him foot fungus the way he gagged and choked and spit out every bit of food and saliva from his mouth. After that, he shrieked any time I got the spoon within a foot of him, so I think I have my answer for avocados. We'll take a solids break tomorrow and this weekend I plan to buy a bunch of produce and cook everything up and freeze it. We can try something else on Saturday and maybe I'll find something he likes. Sawyer would eat anything, so of course we would get a picky eater this time around. One of them had to take after me.



I used the picture with his eyes closed, even though there were a few others featuring more face contortion. But it seems that DH is not capable of taking a picture without glaring red laser eyes. Speaking of DH, he's getting more creative. This morning was the next installment of Cheesy Love Notes, following the Starburst Message. When I sat down at my computer, I had ten emails in a row from him.

See?



The funny part was that when I looked in my trash, I could see that it had taken him about 15 tries to get it right. But still. I am spoiled.

He also blogs. You should read his blog. And be nice and comment. Because for every blog comment he gets, I lose an article of clothing. (Okay, not really, but isn't strip blogging a good idea? Especially since I don't know how to play poker.)

While DH was cooking dinner tonight, he mentioned that he was disappointed that no one on his MySpace friends list had said anything about today being 9/11. Considering that I'm on his Myspace friends list and wanted to save myself from being cut (which is a Big Deal on the internet, you know), I quickly offered up, "Happy 9/11, babe!"

"Ehh, not the word I would have chosen, but thanks."

My DH is an extremely proud citizen. Dare I say, patriotic. Much more so than I am. He has a very high respect for military and I'm pretty sure that if the kids and I were to perish in some sort of unfortunate incident tomorrow, he'd sign up for the Marines on Thursday. September 11th is a very sacred day to him and he takes it very seriously. Not that I don't -- but I guess I'm just sort of removed from the whole thing and it's hard for me to relate any emotion to it.

I just typed up a blurb about what I was doing that day and how I felt (or really, my lack of feeling) and I just can't post that. It's not me. I still don't feel much of anything about the whole thing. I feel like I should, but I just don't. My mommy board has a couple conversations going on about 9/11, one specifically about how we will explain this event to our children several years from now. I will be honest and say that's not something I ever really think about. My husband would choke on his Keystone Light if he knew I considered saying, "Eh, they'll teach them about it in school." I think it is safe to say that I will leave all the explaining of wars and politics to him.

I'm an eternal optimist in that regard and live by the belief that "everything will work out." Bills will get paid, the baby will sleep through the night eventually, my mother-in-law will appreciate me some day, I will be skinny again soon enough. I don't worry about the hows or whys of getting there, I just believe that it will happen. That line of thinking will probably come back to haunt me one day, but for now it works and I'm all about living in the moment.

And now, for something completely different, because I can't let it get too serious around here. At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that my husband cooks dinner. I know, I know, amazing, right? Well, not only does he cook, but he also a knack for coming up with quirky ways to show his affection. Once, I came downstairs one morning to find a note propped on my keyboard that read "I <3 You." A couple days after that, I was working on my computer when an Outlook reminder popped up. "Your husband loves you" was set to take place in ten minutes.

It took him a few weeks to come up with something to outdo that one, but he did it today. When I came into the office this morning, I noticed that my bag of Starbursts had been emptied onto my postage scale. The first thought that popped into my head was that DH had fished through them and picked out all his favorite kinds and left me with the rest. Because that is totally something he would do (although he would leave the pink ones for me because he's just sweet like that).

An hour or so later, I was digging through my embroidery thread, which is next to the postage scale. I looked down at the square candies and about melted into a puddle on the floor at what I saw. He had spelled out his love for me in fruit chews.

Now, my husband is the king of cheesy, but is that not adorable?? Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. He has his fair share of undesirable qualities. Like his tendency to tell me things like, "I had the most awesome crap this morning. I considered leaving it for you. It was like a coral reef, emerging from the water."

So see, he kind of owes me.

On our way up to bed last night, DH casually informed me that he gave my blog address to his grandmother. I stood there stunned for a few moments and then the following conversation ensued. Imagine my voice as more of a frantic howl.

Me: "Why would you do that?!"
DH: "What?"
Me: "Why would you give your grandmother my blog address?!"
DH: "Um.. I.. don't know?"
Me: "What if I want to write about my period!!"
DH: "I'm pretty sure she used to have one of those."
Me: "What if I want to write about our sex life?"
DH: "She knows we have sex."
Me: "But! But! Why would you DO that?!"
DH: "She said she was not good with bookmarks so I don't think you need to worry."

More stunned silence.

Me: "I am so blogging about this tomorrow."

So Nese, if you're reading this, HI! I love you and I promise I won't write about anything too terribly embarrassing. Or if I do, I'll try to put a warning at the top, something like "If you wish to read about my horrid yeast infection, proceed with caution" or "This post involves 42 swear words." Just kidding, I don't swear much. But the yeast infection thing.. I can't make any promises about that!

I see what happens when I brag about sleep on my blog. I get a baby that wakes twice during the night and decides to be up for the day at 6am. No more jinxing myself on here, that's for sure. He's sleeping again now though, so I won't complain too much.

Yesterday was overly stressful, yet again. Are you noticing a trend? I got an email from a customer politely asking about the status of her order, an order I had promised to have to her by tomorrow. An order I had totally spaced on and not even started when she emailed me yesterday. Yeah, talk about seriously kicking myself.

So after Cara and the boys left, I spent the rest of the day trying like mad to finish the order, in between Bex having a meltdown every time I moved more than an inch away from him and Sam spreading a can of French fried onions all over the living room, amongst other random mischief.

When DH got home, I shoved the package at him and sent him to the post office to overnight it to its destination. But of course, that couldn't be the end of it. It never is for me! The phone rang fifteen minutes later. DH, telling me that our post office can't do Express mail past 5pm and the location that can is 30 minutes away, and closes at 7pm. It was 6:36. Well, my DH is truly my knight in shining armor because he somehow made it there in time and saved the day. This was no small feat for him, considering he'd never been there before and is horrible with directions. Oh, and did I mention he had taken the baby with him? Yes, I love that man.

He also called after dropping off the package and asked me what was for dinner. Big sigh from me. "Well, go and, you know, take an honest look in the pantry and if you don't see anything.."

"Do you wanna bring home Subway?"

"That was an honest look, babe. What kind of sandwich do you want?"

Two of the many, many reasons I married this man: he has a sense of humor and he loves spoiling me. I'm lucky, I know. :)

Today I think I'll allow myself to relax a little, because it's Friday, and thanks to the holiday, we have THREE WHOLE DAYS with DH home so I can get caught up on orders. Maybe I'll take the boys to see Pappy if he's home. We need out of the house. Tomorrow I'm going to lunch with a friend and maybe doing some shopping afterward. It will be a test for Bex to see how long he can go with a bottle of pumped milk instead of me (I'm staying close just in case). Mama is in need of more than an hour away every once in awhile.