Forget You One Pound of M&M's!

I got the real stuff!

He did good, didn't he? He may have created a monster though. I never thought I was a flowers and chocolate kind of girl, but---okay, that's a lie, I've ALWAYS been a chocolate kind of girl, but oh the joy I felt when I set my eyes upon these flowers with the box of chocolates nestled up against them...

Off to smell the roses and gorge delicately taste only a small sampling of chocolates...

And I mean this lovingly...

You know you are confident in your position as a very good friend to me, if you can send an anniversary card (to me and my husband) that says, "I'm glad you didn't take my advice and dump him..."

I have good friends. And they make me laugh too. Thanks Breitmama!

Tomorrow is 5 years for me and Big J. He is in LA and I am in Texas. I won't get to spend my anniversary with the love of my life, but I will get to spend it with our three little loves. And J's mother. So, that ought to be good. Maybe I'll throw in a pound of peanut M&M's and make it like a new kind of anniversary trifecta.

To commemorate this milestone,
The evolution of J and Ang:
7 years ago in June, we met.














Time has changed us both, don't you think?

5 years ago in June, we were married

Four years ago in June I had just gotten rid of the first of:

Three years ago in June we were doing a 4 month internship in Rexburg, Idaho. This was exactly 10 years after I left there, finishing my first year of college. This time, when I went back, I totally let a boy past the living room. And sometimes even into my bedroom. And I have no idea when curfew was, but I am certain that I was passed out a good 4 hours before it came along. Also, Taco Time across the street from our apartment burned down one night. We watched it happen. Some guys tried banging on the door to tell the employees their restuarant was on fire but the employees were all, "Only 3 packets of hot sauce per burrito---AND WE'RE CLOSED."

Look how innocent and young and free we look. Family pictures were within the realm of possible three short years ago.

Two years ago in June, J had just completed his degree. It only took one mission, one business venture, one wife, two kids, and ten years to complete. Avee was not quite 3 months old but was well established by then as the ruler of our household.

One year ago in June we were surviving our first Texas summer, and falling in love with Texas. And we talked about all the things we would accomplish since we weren't going to have another baby for a while. We had a one year old who knew no limits and a three year old who loved trains and still needed naps. J was entering his last year of 20's. I was exiting my first year of 30's. So unfair.

















This year in June, we did this:

And J spends his free time doing this:

It's been a good ride.

Probably Not What The Scripture Actually Means...

You know, we are supposed to be like little children. And since I spend my days with the smallest of them, I have chance to observe many of the things they do. I can't help but think I would be contributing a lot to society to share some of those things.

A few of these things I just don't see my other adult friends doing, and perhaps that's something that needs to change.

If you feel gassy or feel like you need a little extra help going to the bathroom. Try yelling it out. It doesn't have to be angry or distraught yelling, just a good hearty yell. Works for Danyo.

If you want to stay up later where the big people are and the lights are still on, think of the most unique, un-fixable problem and then wander out with your belly button showing and your pajama bottoms not quite covering what they are intended to and report your problem. Even if the big people who are there to solve all your problems start laughing and send you back to the dark, boring, room where your younger sister is saying "SHH!" for no reason, it will buy you some time in the light, grown-up world. Totally worth it. "There's blood under my skin, I think it's coming out of my bones, it's really bad" is a problem that works for Bo.

If the Chocolate-Keeper says no "shock-wet" until after lunch/dinner---go find the foot high stool that the Chocolate-Keeper stupidly bought at Ikea and get it yourself. From on top of the refrigerator. Because Diana Ross is right, ain't no mountain or cupboard high enough. Even when you are two.

Announce every time you have to go to the bathroom. Or have just gone. Wherever that is.

Define the rules of your world by your most recent obsession. "Karate Kid doesn't wear underwear" or "Spiderman's mom doesn't kiss him. He doesn't even have a mom. And he doesn't have to be nice to his sister. Ever. He doesn't even have a sister."

Within 10 minutes of doing something totally embarrassing like, laying on the floor, kicking and screaming, or flopping across the living room like a jelly-fish, whining, on your way to a time-out---totally act like it never happened and not be an ounce embarrassed.

When the grownups who take care of you say "Let's go to _______'s house" and you know he is a cute, older, 5 year old man, remember the two most important things, clean underwear and pretty hair. "Uh-oh, I need cween dipoh! UH-OH!!! DO MY HAIR!"

When your mom catches you unfolding and flinging around laundry she just washed and folded while simultaneously nursing a baby and she starts to yell at you for making twice as much work for her and whatever else is annoying her at that moment, bug out your eyes and start shaking your entire body like you are freezing cold because it's a totally weird response and it will make her laugh and kind of feel bad for yelling about dumb ol' laundry anyway.

If you feel like doing something "naughty" just repeat what you know the grownup in your life will say when they catch you, while you are doing it. Sort of braces you for the blow, while you still indulge in some naughtiness.

Hover around the toilet anytime someone is using it just for a chance at the quick thrill of flushing.

Throw yourself on the floor while half-naked and wail for 6.5 minutes if you have a sneaky, hovering sister who flushes the toilet before you can, right after you've used it.

Let everything be made better by the promise that Dad will be home at 1.

Repeat anything you say 7 times. Even if you are totally being listened and responded to.

Believe that kisses and bandaids really do make everything better.

Tell the secret of your super spiderman dive and not holding your breath under water to the newborn because he can't repeat it for a long long long long long time. All he ever says is crying and no one even understands him when he's doing that.

Manage to be impossibly perfect and precious even when all you do is poop, squirm, sleep, suck, and occasionally yell for cleansing purposes.

And probably most importantly: Within minutes of being the brunt of a grownup's frustration/exhaustion/stupidity when you are just being yourself, forgive her. Completely. So completely that you think nothing of climbing on her lap and snuggling her because you haven't the slightest inclination to hold a grudge. And because you trust in the goodness of others and without knowing it, trust that even grownups are just doing the best they can.

My Little Go-Go

Go-Going on a walk

97 degrees, and these are the shoes she insists on wearing.

It's My Prerogative

"You aren't going to say anything like, bad about him, are you?"
"Uhhhhhh, no. I guess not."

J sat next to B0bby Br0wn's dad last week on his flight from LA. Bobby sat in front of them with his girlfriend. On the way home from the airport, I got to hear some of the highlights of J's conversation with, whom he affectionately calls, "Papa Brown."

Some people's claim to fame is sitting next to famous people. Or the father's of famous people. My claim to fame is being married to someone like J. Who doesn't recognize famous people. And then probably couldn't care less when he finds out he's sitting by/talking to one.

He really liked Papa Brown and talked to him the entire trip.

My two favorite highlights of the conversation.

When he was finally told who Bobby was, J leaned forward and pointed to the woman sitting next to BB and said, "So, is that Whitney?"

Later he and Papa Brown were talking about who he knew in "Hollywood" or, LA. Michael Jackson's name came up and then J asked about OJ---if Papa Brown knew him. Yes, he does know him. "So, is he guilty?"

I got a pretty big kick out that. Turns out, according to Papa, he is in fact not guilty.

So there you have it.

Can I Get An Amen?

I have a confession.

I don't really care for, oh, how do you say it---the wearing of religion on one's sleeve. Or bumper. Or shirt. I appreciate a person's devotion and dedication, but bumper stickers that say, "Honk for Jesus" or even the basic "Jesus loves you" kind of bug me. I don't get worked up about it because clearly they do it for some people, but they do make me roll my eyes a little...

So, the other day I was trolling the aisles of Walsmart I passed a guy wearing a shirt that said, "Jesus Loves You" and I rolled my eyes. Ever so subtly.

Later I happened to pass him again in another aisle. This time there weren't stacks and stacks of Double Chocolate Oreo Cookies to distract me and I saw his shirt in its entirety. Below the proclamation of Jesus' love for every stranger he passed, it read, "(BUT I'M HIS FAVORITE)"

Now that is some religion I could slap on my bumper...

Happy Flag Day Y'all

My kids are going stir crazy. Kind of. And I feel a little guilty, but there's little to nothing I can do about it. It's so hot during the day, our activities are limited. I need to find something for Bo to do besides riding our gliding rocker like a bucking bronco and webbing Aves randomly throughout the day. Any ideas?

Today my mom took the kids swimming. She didn't want to pack a swimsuit. But she did. She didn't want to put one on and go to the pool. But she did. I realized as she walked out the door with my kids, who were ecstatic to be going swimming, that moms never stop doing things they don't want to do, if it makes their kids happy. Even if their kids are 31 years old with three kids of her own.

THREE KIDS!?! What the!?!?! How did THAT happen!?!?!

Today I had to meet with a lactation consultant. By choice. I really never thought I would utter or type those words in my lifetime. The woman was so helpful I wanted to cry. My perfect little baby has one flaw and it may have been corrected today. Seriously, you have never seen a more perfect newborn. While I was getting my consultation, a young girl came in with her four week old baby. Named Av3ry. She was screeching incessantly---the baby, not the mom---and I thought "what's in a name?" I lived that for 4 months with my own little Av3ry screeching incessantly. Maybe that's why I think baby Danyo is so perfect---he can barely even muster up a cry that isn't absolutely adorable when he's hungry. Try to make that sentence make sense.

I feel like I should post, but as you can see, I'm lacking for things of interest or importance.

Also, I have to post pictures for my friend who is so dear to me and I am so dear to her, she skims my blog for pictures and when there aren't any, calls to yell at me. Skims. Can you believe that?

So, here's the pictures Jen. You lame butt.

Oh yeah, yesterday Bo had a "scuffle" at McDonald's playland. My friend came and took the two kids for TWO HOURS. Some kid, a year or two older than him, told him that he was "totally not awesome." It devastated Bo. He responded to the boy with a swift kick, apparently. Bo then sat on my friend's lap and cried for 10 minutes. The whole thing makes me kind of sad---my baby being exposed to bullying. But it also is funny. A, because Bo kicked the kid, so at least he knows not to take other people's crap. And while I did lecture him on hurting other children, I am glad he didn't go cower in a corner and let the bully get the best of him. He cowered on Amy's lap after he kicked the kid. And b, because "totally not awesome" is just a hysterical insult to me.

Anyway, the best part was, that night during prayers, Bo included, "And please bless that we never go to McDonald's again and see that boy." I feel like that is a prayer that just might be answered.

Looking remarkably identical to his big brother, even though in real life he doesn't that much.

The only thing he can truthfully put on his resume

I'd Say He's Adjusting To The New Baby Well

Where I found Ben taking his nap today.

Reason # 743 Why I Love My Mom

Why I Have Time To Blog

Tonight, just before bed...

Wednesday

First, a little Avee cuteness.

What are you doing in here Aves?



No! Nuffin! No Mama!






Tell me what you are hiding...




No. want. to!




Please show me?




COOKIE!!!




Oh Avee....




I share! Want some Mama?





Secondly. When I got home from the hospital, this was posted on our refrigerator.


I knew that it wasn't there for reference to use in the future, but because J is a HUGE fan of any type of child entrepreneurism. I got a pretty big kick out of it, considering the timing and all.

I would totally call these girls, but I'm confused about their rate. Is it $3 or $1? And if they're gonna be that shifty in their ad, who's to say they won't try to swindle me when I hire them?

Also, I'd say these girls are about 9 or 10. Did you notice that Nyla has TWO contact numbers. Excuse me? I had a college degree and a car payment before I had two contact numbers...

I particularly like "We guarantee your child will always remember us" You gotta respect a 9 year old who can spell guarantee. But I am a little concerned about what exactly they do to ensure that remembrance.

Struggling With The Name

We love the name Tucker. It just doesn't quite fit. We've settled on Daniel. A name I've loved and wanted to use since before Bo was born. He's named after my brother, whom I adore.

We brought him home from the hospital nameless. He gave me the cold shoulder until we settled on the right name. He's all happy and up in my face now. First time he's really been awake and actively involved in getting sustenance and whatnot.

Shortly after we got home and he was laying on the couch nameless, I looked to my profound 4 year old for some insights into a name.

"What is his name Bo?"

Bo darted over to the couch and offered enthusiastically, "I don't know mom, let's look at the tag on his wrist to see!"

Last Night I Slept On My Stomach

He's a HE!

And he's perfect.


Of course. :)


I have to say, I highly recommend the "not finding out" route if you've never tried it. It was very exciting. I felt a little bit of an unfair advantage because this pregnancy was quite similar to my pregnancy with Bo---but you know, when it comes right down to it, you just don't know.

Hearing "It's a...boy" for the first time as he was being born was just cool.

The name we had picked out beforehand just didn't seem to fit once he was born. Nothing is on the birth certificate, but at this very early morning hour, Tucker is the final pick. It could be Alouicious by 8 though, so don't have it tatooed on your butt or anything.


Sorry I said "butt" in a post about my newborn, Mom.


He has HAIR, which is a first for us. I have a great ability to birth bald babies.

He was born at 11 PM on June 2nd. I started contracting at 7 PM. Yeah, crazy.

My friends picked me up at 7 for a girl's night out and I immediately started having contractions. I had been having false labor pretty much every night so I wasn't really thinking much of it. As we were waiting to be seated at the Cheesecake Factory, I walked around to slow the contractions, which is what stopped them in the prior nights.

One short little walk made them considerably more painful.

Amy walked past me during one of those painful ones and all but shoved me down the escalator to the parking lot. I felt like a doofus for trying to go out for a night on the town while in labor, and was kind of balking at first, but I'm really glad Amy ignored me because even the 30 minutes longer I would have had to wait for my sister or J to come and get me, might have made the difference in epidural or no epidural. And let me just tell you, I am certain I would STILL be swearing if I had had to go without an epidural. I know, I know, people do it all the time. I'm not one of them. :)

My friends Amy and Rebecca dropped me off at the hospital and my sister who had the van, quickly went and got Jay so he could meet me at the hospital. Right after he ate the frozen custard she got for him.

Everything happened so quickly that we were all sort of crazy with the excitement. I was a little less crazy than my friends, but I was contending with contractions. After Amy and Rebecca left, to go have dinner and then watch my kids so my sister so she could be at the birth, my nurse asked how much they had had to drink before they had to bring me in. I laughed pretty hard. Those were two very sober girls, but there were NO indications in their behavior.

I went from a 5 to a 10 in the next 2 hours, but waited to let the baby come down on his own, so my job of getting him out was easier. Sara got to be at the delivery and that was pretty cool. When the doctor and nurse told me to push, she joined me. It was very hard for me to concentrate on pushing and not keep laughing as I could hear her next to me, pushing away.

Everything went very smoothly and all things considered, it was an easy delivery. He was 8 lbs, 7 ounces and not quite 20 inches. Just a lil' ol' thing.

He has a new look, he's definitely related to Bo and Aves, but he's not identical to them.

When he was first born I didn't feel an immediate urgency to hold him and see him and it sort of concerned me. I just needed to rest because now, I have to constantly resist the urge to eat him whole. He's absolutely delectable.


I get to go home today (I'm blogging from the hospital, they have wireless here!) and Grandma's on her way, so it's a great day!


Amy documented the evening from her vantage point, which is only slightly more g-rated than my version of the evening. She made a slide show which you are welcome to look at, however, I'll need you to email me for the link. It's got some info that I'm not so concerned about you seeing, but I don't necessarily want floating around the internet, associated with my high profile blog. Nobodycalledtoday @ gmail dot com.

Oh yeah, before I go----the second greatest thing that happened the night I delivered.

My nurse was wonderful. I have always had great nurses. They make all the difference in the world. This one was no exception, she was a gem. We bonded over the couple of hours before the delivery and I was quite comfortable with her by the end of the night. After the delivery, she went to change the blankets/padding under me one last time. Any time she had done it before, it had been an ordeal because I was numb and I'm not slight of frame in any way, so shifting around was difficult. For all parties involved.

She stood in front of me and went to say, "Okay, one last big lift now" but instead said, "Okay, lift, Big Butt." Numb legs, jiggly belly and all, I almost fell off the bed laughing. The other nurse in the room who had only come and gone a couple of times turned around in horror after hearing her colleague call this poor sweet girl who'd just given birth, "Big Butt." I pretty much couldn't stop laughing the rest of the night.