"MOUSE! MOUUUUUSE!"

"Mickey Mouse?"

"Nooooo! Mouse!"

"Cheerios?"

"Nooooo!"

"Mail?"

"Nooooooooooo"

Then he bangs on the pantry door and as soon as I let him in, what does he make a beeline for? MARSHMALLOWS. Duh, Mom.

My cats are gay.

No, really.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just feel slightly violated when I'm awoken at 2:30am to the rhythm of my two male cats going at it next to me on the bed. At first I thought one of them was having a seizure. Then I turned the light on. And saw Zachary splayed out on his back, Julius straddled over him. And went, "Oh. OH. NO, none of that. NONE OF THAT NONSENSE."

Looks like I'll be putting in a call to the spay and neuter clinic when we get back from vacation. They're five months old now so I suppose it's time. No feline promiscuity in this house!

Oh, and yes, I thought about how I would blog this as I laid in bed at 2:30am, and I did ponder if it would be appropriate to post about my humping cats on the internet. You see what conclusion I came to.

And this, my friends, is evidence that I will be able to be seen from space by July 2009. I will be my own friggin' country if I keep growing at this rate.

I had been happily gloating that I wasn't getting poochy at all, up until around four days ago. Then THIS THING popped up out of nowhere. Hey there, ten weeks and four days old fetus.

My children both have a profound love for crayons. For Beckett, it's tasting them. He just can't resist the rainbow of wax and it's not uncommon for me to open a diaper and find hot pink nuggets staring back at me. It's become a game for him now, and he gnaws on them just to get a rise out of me. He'll sneak one from Sawyer's stash and wait until I notice him inching it towards his mouth, and then dart off behind the recliner giggling his head off. He's apparently shared this hobby with the cats too, because a couple weeks ago I witnessed Zachary pooping a yellow crayon turd into the little box. Lovely, right?

Sawyer, on the other hand does not eat them, thankfully. He draws. All. Day. Long. Every page of every coloring book he owns is covered in a prism of colors, and he's even confiscated several of DH's notepads for use as his own personal sketch books. I'm also happy to say that he's inherited my artistic talent as opposed to his father's, which is a very fortunate thing. I think at this point the kid would win hands down in a draw-off with Daddy.

For some reason, lately he has started *ahem* "decorating" my furniture with his drawings. I don't know why, because he KNOWS he's not supposed to. But nonetheless, my kitchen table is now adorned with two smiling stick figures standing on some tall grass under a very bright sun.

And on Tuesday, what I thought was an innocent gazing out the living room window was actually him depicting an entire scene along the whole length of the window sills. It's wasn't until I heard him announce, "Mommy, I'm drawing your shirt!" that I found the artwork that he was oh-so-proud of. And really, how can you be mad about this? It's better than the boring white, yes?



From left to right we have some balloons, a dinosaur, a smiling sun and Sawyer and Mommy dancing around. Down at the other side were more suns, people, and random letters.



I tried to get him to pose with his masterpiece, but only Beckett was willing to get in the shot.

A couple recent conversations with my ever so logical three-year-old:

Him: Mommy, what does a monkey say?
Me: *monkey sounds*
Him: What does a cow say?
Me: Moooo.
Me: Hey, what does Beckett say?
Him: *thinks for a minute* Um, Beckett is not an animal.


Him: Mommy, where did you come from?
Me: I came from Grandma.
Him: And where did I come from?
Me: You came from me.
Him: No, I came from the store.

HA. If only it had been as easy as scanning his butt across the U-Scan and popping in a credit card!

Beckett got his first haircut today! He was NOT excited about it. At all. The entire process looked like this:




But he looks so cute and grown up. He went from this:



To this:

With the impending arrival of a third little person in our family, I joined a "due date club" as I have with my previous pregnancies. As I check in from day to day, it's becoming increasingly obvious to me that I really need to just stay away from those places this time around.

This is my third baby, so there's really nothing I have questions about or that is the "unknown." And there is only so much I can read from the clueless first time mommies before I can no longer sit on my hands to keep from typing, "Yes, lunch meat is going to make your baby grow five legs" or "Don't take a hot shower unless you want your uterus to spontaneously combust" or "You can totally feel your grape-size baby wiggling around already!" And my personal favorite, "Ew, GROSS, how dare someone offer you hand-me-downs for your precious little angel who only deserves top of the line designer duds?? How dare they touch your belly without getting PERMISSION???"

Seriously, I don't mean to be snarky. I was there once too. I remember being so incredibly neurotic during my pregnancy with Sawyer. It was insane. I was addicted to those mommy boards and felt the need to run and gab about every twinge, craving and doctor's appointment. And when he was born - holy cats on a cracker. I was the most over-protective and bitchy mom ever. I was the only one who was good enough for my baby and anyone even breathing in his general direction was a cause for concern.

The second time around, I did somewhat better and was more laid back. I still tended to get uppity about certain things though, and allowed myself to get involved in tiffs over breastfeeding or circumcision a little too often. Not quite out of the know-it-all phase of motherhood, I'm embarrassed to say.

This time, I am the most carefree I have ever been during a pregnancy. I welcome advice from people. I love that people rub my belly already, and I don't care if they don't ask first. I'm stoked every time someone offers me their baby's old clothes and gear, because we all know that crap is way too expensive for how short of a span it is used. I still *GASP* eat at Subway. And I don't give a hamster's hernia how other people choose to give birth or raise their kids. It is REFRESHING.

Maybe this is just the natural progression of motherhood coupled with getting older, I don't know. But I like it.

And on that note, I have to go teach my three-year-old why it's not cool to tell me he hates me. Oh boy, this is starting already?

We had "Breakfast with Santa" today, complete with pancakes and sausage. I had hopes of getting at least one picture with both boys in it, but as expected, Sawyer was in full-on "I'll cover my face and pretend no one can see me" mode and completely refused to sit anywhere near Santa. Beckett surprised me and didn't want to leave Santa's side.

(crappy quality, scanned)


This is as close as Sawyer got.

We still haven't gotten around to painting cookies, but I wanted to share the recipe I used. I search high and low every year for a good sugar cookie recipe and can never find one. It's always too sticky or too crumbly or expands too much and loses its shape. This one is PERFECT and tastes so good. The glaze is really easy and tasty too. Enjoy!

Cream Cheese Sugar Cookies

1 cup white sugar
1 cup butter, softened
1 (3 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg yolk
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

In a large bowl, combine the sugar, butter, cream cheese, salt, almond and vanilla extracts, and egg yolk. Beat until smooth. Stir in flour until well blended. Chill the dough for 8 hours, or overnight.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough 1/3 at a time to 1/8 inch thickness, refrigerating remaining dough until ready to use. Cut into desired shapes with lightly floured cookie cutters. Place 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Leave cookies plain for frosting, or brush with slightly beaten egg white and sprinkle with candy sprinkles or colored sugar.

Bake for 7 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or until light and golden brown. Cool cookies completely before frosting.



Vanilla Glaze

1/3 cup butter or stick margarine
2 cups powdered sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 to 4 tablespoons hot water

Melt better over low heat. Remove from heat. Stir in powdered sugar and vanilla. Stir in hot water 1 tablespoon at a time until consistency of thick syrup. Ice cookies immediately. Glaze will harden quickly.

Is this not the cutest thing you have ever seen?? They do it all the time. <3





They crack me up.

I'm a scrooge this year. I'm not afraid to admit it.

I decided last week that I wouldn't put our Christmas tree up this year. The boys are young enough yet that they don't really care, and I get a headache just thinking about what fun it would be to constantly be chasing our two kittens out of the tree. They are into EVERYTHING still, being only 5 months old, and I think we'll have much better luck next year when they're more mellow.

DH and I also decided we aren't getting the boys any big gifts. We'll fill their stockings with small stuff and they will be perfectly content with that. I have always hated how commercialized Christmas is, and how it's all about who gives and gets the best gifts. Absolutely hate it. And I refuse to succumb to the hysteria.

Now, before I come off as the worst mom on the planet, I will say that we are traveling to Wisconsin to spend the holiday with my parents, and my mom does have her tree up. So they will still get to experience the lights and ornaments and wonderment there. She also will undoubtedly go overboard with gifts, so the boys will have plenty to rip into on Christmas morning.

We're also creating some new traditions to carry on through the years that I feel are more important and worthwhile than a bunch of gifts. Sawyer helped me make Christmas-shaped sugar cookies a couple days ago, and tomorrow I'll let both boys "paint" designs on them with icing. We're going to "Breakfast with Santa" this Saturday too, which will be the first time the boys have visited Santa. I'm still waiting for the first good snow to help them build their first snowman, but I'm thinking we'll just have to wait until we get to Wisconsin where the white stuff is plentiful.

I'm still thinking of other ideas to make the holidays fun for our family without breaking the bank. This little bambino I'm cooking was a huge surprise, and thus not planned for financially, so we really need to be careful with what we spend in the coming months. We have to get a new vehicle at some point, because three carseats won't fit in our Ford Focus. We also need to begin making payments to the midwife for the homebirth, since Indiana is backwards and insurance probably won't cover any of it.

Okay, so maybe I'm not so much a scrooge as just extra frugal this year - and all about making things easier on my extremely fatigued and morning sick self. I tend to get down on myself a lot for not being super mom and having elaborate Christmas-themed plans each day until the 25th, or a pristine house adorned with snowflakes and garlands in every room. But I'm getting better about realizing that it's not the quantity of what I do, but the memories I create for my kids that really matter.

This post was not supposed to be so serious, I swear! Tomorrow will be better with pictures of my crazy men covered in a rainbow of icings and loving every minute of it.

On a good note, my husband is awesome because he dyes my hair - and actually does a good job. No more roots!

Wow. It's been over a year since I cracked open the virtual pages of this thing. I just spent awhile reading over my tirades as a new mom of two and had a good chuckle. And then became terrified when I realized I'm doing that all over again, this time with three. Here's to hoping that the little bebe I'm cooking this time decides to take after her oldest brother and be the most mellow kid on the planet. Yes, that would be nice.

Last night, I was looking at pictures of our kittens from when we first got them, and said aloud to DH, "I don't remember them being that small!" That, of course, led me to pictures of the boys in their infancy and those days are all but a distant memory. Sawyer is now a very articulate and sensitive 3-and-a-half-year-old, and not nearly the terror he was at age two. Beckett will turn two soon, yet is still very much my little baby. Luckily, he's past the constant night-waking and crying all day, THANK YOU GODS. How is it that I can barely remember what it was like back then?

I decided today that I would start writing here again, because I NEED to be able to remember these times. I don't want to be looking at pictures a year from now and not know what my kids were like in them, how their laughs sounded, what antics they devised to drive me crazy yet make me giggle hysterically.

I need to remember what it was like to show Sawyer the first ultrasound picture of his new sibling at nine weeks gestation, and see his eyes light up with wonder when I told him it was a baby. "Oh, that is SO cool, Mommy!" Seriously priceless. He then declared to his father and me, "Mommy, you are having a girl baby. Daddy, you are having a Spiderman baby. And I want a boy baby." I definitely cannot allow myself to forget moments like that.

I need to be able to envision in my mind how warm and wonderful it feels when Beckett crawls onto the couch with me and snuggles up right against my face to look in my eyes. He doesn't say anything, just grins and giggles and plays with my hair. Such a mama's boy he is, and I love it.

Sawyer is becoming more loving and affectionate as well, constantly asking, "Mommy, do you love me?" and demanding hugs and kisses throughout the day. I am so lucky to have these moments with my children and it would really be a shame to just let them slip away into the past, unrecorded.

I am one of those slacker moms who is the victim of the digital age, with very VERY few printed pictures of my children. The ones hanging on the walls are all I have. I take so many and am so far behind now that it would take hours upon hours and cost a fortune to have them all printed. I haven't made tangible baby books either, which I feel awful about. It goes hand in hand with not writing hand-written letters to relatives or compiling photo albums of our family for my children.

I have to start somewhere, so getting our day to day life down in virtual format is as good a place as any. Some day I WILL have the time and money to get those pictures printed, and my kids will have books full of memories to look back upon. But for now, I'm happy just writing about our adventures here for safe keeping.

So, hello again!

Yeah, yeah, so I've been a bad blogger. Many of you noticed that I made the blog private for a couple days, and I won't lie, I was very surprised and flattered by the outpouring of concern. I'm fine, but I was in a slump, and I guess it made me feel better to think that the blog was locked up and people weren't checking it for new posts. I guess I thought no one would notice? Ha! You all definitely noticed. So thank you. :)

Last night I got the next part of my sleeve done and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out. It's beautiful and I need to give a plug to Amanda Cancilla at Artistic Skin Designs (that's the one on US 31 for you Indy peeps, if you need any ink done, I highly recommend her). She did a fabulous job and it's exactly what I wanted.

I go back at the end of this month for the third session, a pink and purple koi on the inside of my arm. It'll be rounded out with some swirly sparkly water around the koi, bee, clovers and roots of the tree, and thunder clouds up behind and around the branches. Squee! (Yes, I just squeed. This is squee-worthy.)

Today I've been feeling like utter poo on a stick, and I think I might be coming down with mastitis. Who the hell gets mastitis after almost 9 months of breastfeeding? Apparently I do. At first I thought it was just my adrenaline crashing after the tattoo but today I've had body aches, a headache and dizziness all day, and my right boob is firm and tender. I get nauseous when I touch it. Joy.

DH was the best husband ever and let me take a nap, which ended up being four hours long. Yes, he is a saint. I've got a heating pad on the boobie right now so please please keep me in your thoughts that I can kick this quickly so DH won't have to take any time off work.

Happy Thanksgiving, from our crazy little family to yours!

Okay, let's see if I can peel myself off the ceiling long enough to tell this morning's tale of horror.

I was in the bathroom going pee, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a dark blob. I have some wicked good spi-dar and I KNEW what it was before I even turned my head. It was a huge nasty spider and it was gross. And huge. And really, really gross.

Okay, I HATE spiders. Seriously, I'm still shaking because they freak me out that much. Have you ever seen those episodes of Maury Povich that he does about phobias? And the woman that runs screaming off the stage because they bring out a bowl of chalk or some aluminum foil? That's me. Deathly, unhealthily, irrationally afraid of spiders.

Well, Sawyer came in and swung the door open and it started crawling, and I was still on the pot so I told him to step on it. AND HE BENT DOWN AND PICKED IT UP. Oh my God, I jumped off the pot and ran out of the bathroom screaming NO NO PUT IT DOWN!!! He was holding the damn thing by a leg and it was wiggling and being gross with it's nasty long legs and.. eww. Then it was CRAWLING ON HIS ARM.

I was like "Sawyer put it down!!! Step on it! Smash it!" So he gets down on the floor with it and is laying on his belly and starts poking it, with his face two inches from it. Oh I about DIED. I was seriously jumping all over the place. I wish there had been a camera rolling because we'd have won a bunch of money on America's Funniest Home Videos.

Then, he tried to step on it but didn't do it hard enough and it was still moving, so he picked it up AGAIN and came at me with it. Oh, I just about lost it then. I have childhood memories of my brother chasing me with locust shells and I am traumatized for life, I tell you. I ran shrieking through the house to grab a shoe and when he dropped it again I smashed it.

OMG. My hair is standing on end. I probably shouldn't teach him that bugs are scary but I can't help it, my phobia is too bad. If it had been a tiny one I might have been okay but this one was big and gross and just.. NO!

And he didn't seem phased by me screaming at all. Just kept playing with it and looking at me like I was crazy. And now he's telling me it's "asleep." And I feel bad for killing the ugly thing. Wait, no I don't.

I have to stop thinking about it. Must calm down and breathe. Go on and laugh. But remember me and my tale of peril when your 2-year-old is chasing you with the most disgusting worst nightmare ever and maybe then you won't be laughing so hard NOW WILL YOU.

And I will spend the rest of my day jumping ten inches off the floor every time I feel a tickle on my feet.

So, I just realized that I commited one of the biggest crimes in blogging: I talked about a resource I used and didn't link it. For shame! I went back and looked and it wasn't YouTube but actually Videojug. YouTube has an endless supply of smoky techniques too, though. This is the one I used, very basic. Behold, the smoky eye tutorial:

VideoJug: How To Create A Smoky Eye Effect

It worked pretty well for me and looked good for my first try. Yes, I'm in my twenties and just now learning how to properly do eye makeup. Hush. Mothers of the world who did not teach their daughters the fine art of eyeshadow should be thanking Al Gore and his internet for giving us novices a second chance.

Interested in bright green smoking eyes? Check. Or perhaps you want hot cocktail eyes, fruity eyes or mermaid eyes. YouTube's got ya covered. So go, watch, learn, be colorful. I've already warned the husband that a makeup addiction could be a dangerous, dangerous thing (for his bank account).

Hello, separation anxiety. How pleasant to see you again. Didn't we already get plenty acquainted the last time you were here though? Please try not to overstay your welcome, thanks.

Trying to fix my hair was interesting this morning, with Mr. Separation Anxiety here as a guest. Beckett crawled after me screaming his loud little head off until I strapped him to my back in the mei tai, which, in case you were wondering, is not the most ideal thing to have on your back when you're wielding a hair dryer. So that didn't last long.

And see, I'm hair impaired. I'm one of those people who can never get their hair to look as good as the stylist does. I hold out on washing for as long as I can, so as to preserve the state of hair euphoria I get from the salon. And now that I have this rockin' purple hair, I'm not supposed to wash it as much. I washed it for the first time on Tuesday, and was less than impressed with how it looked after I styled it, and then bitched to a friend about it. To which she responded, in the most well-meaning way, that maybe I needed something to make it more shiny (and of course I got pissy, because I'm a woman and that is what We Do, and was then obsessed with finding a way to fix it).

I got lots of helpful advice, like more product actually makes it more dull and only washing in cold water. Which would be a hell of a lot easier if we had a detachable shower head. But, we don't, so instead I washed it in the shower and then applied the conditioner and got out to rinse it in the tub with a big cup. Because me and cold showers? We do not mix.

I dumped cup after cup of cold water on my head, being sure to come at it from every angle to get a good rinse. Or so I thought. Then I went downstairs to start the drying process, which now takes about three times as long since I have also learned that heat is bad and evil and makes your hair dull. And I have hair thicker than a friggin' wooly mammoth's. After 20 minutes of drying I was starting to realize that the "wetness" wasn't really going away, even though it was mostly dry. Yeah, not only do I suck at styling, but I apparently also suck at what should be the easiest part: rinsing. I didn't get all the damn conditioner rinsed out and my hair was a greasy mess. Lovely.

We were supposed to meet a friend for lunch at 11am and it was 10:17, and I still had to get the boys ready. So I threw on a headband and attempted to salvage it enough to go out in public. And that was a big negative. It was slicked down and stuck to my head and just gross. So in a matter of about 15 minutes, I said screw the cold water and the cold hair dryer, jumped in the shower to wash it yet again (twice in one day, for shame!), I used my regular shampoo without color protection (bad bad bad!) then flipped my head over and dried it like mad on the hot setting. And you know what? It looks surprisingly decent now. Still not the same, though. And no, not shiny.

And I'm still pissed that I can't use a brush and a hair dryer at the same time, or get the cold rinse down, or use the spray wax and mousse without looking like a grease ball, or work magic with a flat iron and it's just ANNOYING. Seriously, I've been doing my own hair since I was what, 12? And I still don't have the first clue what I'm doing? NOT COOL. My mom never showed me how to apply makeup either, which led to me sitting on YouTube learning how to do smoky eyes for the first time EVER on Monday night. One of the many reasons I'm glad I don't have girls.

Jaclyn has been more than patient with me though, answering all my stupid questions and giving me ideas. So I have to be a good pupil and keep trying, so I can have hot hair when I visit her and Lucas. (Wink wink, Jaclyn!)

So tell me, oh great Internets. What is your hair routine? Got any great secrets? Fool-proof tricks? Please do shair share with the Hair Impaired.

It's the middle of November and is finally starting to look and feel like Fall around here. The grass is still green, but is littered with leaves that Beckett loves to munch. And it's brisk enough for a soft, cushy liner in the BabyHawk!

Did you know that oven doors have built-in locks? Ours does. And I know this. Now, that is. It would have been nice to know before I smelled burning plastic while pre-heating for some cookies. Sawyer wanted to give his plastic stethoscope a tan, apparently. It got more of an incineration though, and I found it dripping hot down through the racks and into the bottom of the oven. TASTY. And not harmful in the least when those fumes leach into your food! I guess I should have listened to my mom when she would preach about "Always LOOK inside before you turn on the oven!" Yes, Mother.

I must be doing something right though, because my two-year-old says please and thank you. "Mommy, I want a banana, please!" Which I'm happy to oblige, and feel all giddy because as soon as I hand it to him, he says, "Thanks, Mom!" (Oh and yes, he calls me just 'Mom' sometimes. Isn't he too young for that?) AND, he throws the peel away on his own. He's quite fascinated with the trash can, actually, which is nice for me because now I can easily convince him to throw anything away for me. Of course, now is when many toys will begin to go missing, as I've already rescued Diego's maned wolf from the bottom of the bag twice.

Despite being incredibly curious and just way too smart for his own good, he really is a pretty easy kid. Which bring's me to Fizzledink's question of how we transitioned him out of the crib. And I feel kind of stupid saying this - but I honestly don't know. Sawyer has always been such a good sleeper that it wasn't much of a bump in the road at all for us. He started sleeping through the night, with no help at all from us, at around three months old. Since then, we've had a couple bouts of night waking but nothing that lasts more than a week.

So when the time came to think about breaking out the Big Boy Bed, I really wasn't worried. I was probably a tad over-confident, but at that point in parenting I'd never really had any incident with him that had knocked me on my ass too hard (no worries though, Beckett fixed that for me!)

His crib is the type that turns into toddler bed so one day when I was eight or so months pregnant, we decided to just go for it. No careful planning or a course of action, just cold turkey. (Which really makes me think I'm probably not the best person to be giving advice on this subject, but well, I'm already halfway through the story.) We wanted him out of the crib before the baby got here so we wouldn't have to worry about that on top of a newborn.

So that night, I had his bed all made up with comfy blankets and a big cushy pillow, and we took him in like normal and put him in it. Said goodnight, gave him kisses, and shut the door. Now, this part is this single most important thing we did: we put a gate on his door. I honestly don't know how we would have remained sane if it weren't for that gate. Him coming out of his room multiple times? Possibly wandering the house at night when we're sleeping? No thank you. Not to mention that the bedrooms are upstairs and I'd had visions of him tumbling down them in the dark. So the gate was a safety precaution as well as peace of mind for me.

In hindsight though, I think it definitely helped to teach him that once we put him in his room and put the gate up, it means bed time. The gate is not there during the day so he can go in and out. The first night of the Big Boy Bed, he didn't get out of bed a single time. He went right to sleep without a peep. Of course, that was the calm before the storm, because the next few nights were a relay race of running up the stairs and putting him back in bed because he'd stand at the gate and yell for us. It didn't take long for him to catch on, though. Now, if he gets up, we just ignore him and 99% of the time, he gets back in bed and goes to sleep himself. Occasionally he'll want something, like a drink or a hug or a story, and we always get him whatever he needs.

He was about 18 months old when we made the transition so he's been sleeping in his bed successfully for close to ten months. Naps, however, are another story and he generally refuses them now (although he did used to take them just fine, even in the toddler bed). So I have no advice there. Except that sometimes, you may need to turn the bed to the wall so the kiddo can't get out repeatedly (if you have a crib that has been transitioned, that is). We've had to do this a handful of times when he was extra defiant to show him that we mean business.

I have to add though that very rarely did he ever cry or act scared to be in the bed. We've never had to sit with him until he fell asleep or do anything else drastic. So, again, probably a sign that I'm not the best person to get advice from. But this was my experience and I hope that it helps somewhat. I think the key is consistency and probably the best thing you can do is to just keep trying, keep putting them back in the bed, and don't give in. Of course, if you truly feel that your child isn't ready yet, then by all means, don't force it. Take a break and try again in a week or so.

And now that I feel like a The More You Know commercial, I'll end with a video of Beckett from a few days ago. He can clap! *sniff*

Time, that is. Thursday? Have I really not blogged since Thursday? For shame, for shame.

I've been busy, though. Saturday, I went purple.

And I don't think I could be any more in love with it. My girl did such a good job! I feel like a rock star. And that sounds so corny but seriously. Rock. Star. It's weird how a new hair cut and color can give you so much more confidence. Although I think I almost gave a few ladies at church a heart attack yesterday. The median age of our congregation is probably 60 so you can imagine the looks I got. And I'm sure it didn't help that when someone would ask about it, I told them it was to match my full back tattoo. I've never seen eyes pop wide faster.

It's fun though and I figure I better have my fun now while I don't have a stuffy professional job that prohibits anything "weird." [insert giant eyeroll here]

And I know a bunch of you left questions for me in comments on past posts, and I promise I'll get to them! I'm going to write some answers as separate posts in the next couple days. You gave me some good topics.

This post was supposed to have more guts but Beckett apparently thought it would be fun to sleep a total of 40 minutes total all day, and is currently yelling for me from his bed. Please wish me some patience so I don't lock myself in a closet with my iPod..