'Cause I Can

Has it really been over a week since I posted? Time sure is flying. Last night I mentioned something about Easter to J and he said, "Wow, it's already almost Easter!? Feels like yesterday was the beginning of January!" I seriously bit my tongue to keep from saying, "Yeah, that's what happens when you get older. Now you know how I've been feeling for the last two years."

See, that's funny. Because I'm two years older than J. You know, I never thought to ask, but I wonder how he feels about being 27 for the rest of his life. I'm so selfish sometimes.

I'm pretty sure I have the funniest babysitter on the planet. Earlier, I ran to the store quickly with the two younger kids. When I got back, there was a message from her. She said, "I was just calling to see if you needed me to babysit tonight because I remember you needed me to babysit a lot on Thursdays last year." I laughed right out loud. I should hire her to keep track of my life, because I sure has heckfire couldn't do that good of a job!

Earlier in the week I got a text that asked if I needed her anytime in the near future. I can always tell when she's wanting to buy something. That and she can't get enough of my kids.

Yesterday Avee came home with a rock that had her name written on it. She was told it would bring her luck. I guess if her preschool can't take her to the blarney stone, they'll just label some rocks and make do.

This is the little girl who tries to steal a rock every time she leaves her friends house, from their nicely landscaped front yard. This is the girl that once landed herself a smooth, gray rock that fit perfectly fit in the palm of her hand, and named him "Cole". Or "Coley" most days. She slept with Cole, bathed with Cole, tried to feed Cole, and loved him desperately.

So, you can probably understand my surprise and amusement when this morning she picked up her nice, labeled, good-luck rock and chucked it carelessly across the floor. "This thing is a piece of crap. It doesn't bring me any luck. It's just a stupid rock with my name on it."

I didn't say anything. I believe the relationship between a girl and her rock is sacred. I'm sure they'll work it out.

While I was at the store, waiting for my cash back from the cashier, Danyo did a little ballistic spaz attack on the debit/credit card machine thingy. Punch, smacking, shaking it. I grabbed his hands to stop him (He really was just being a spaz, he knows that kind of stuff makes Bo and Avee laugh, so he was shooting for the moon) and said, "Really, Danyo? Really!?" I learned that word from my friend Rebecca. It means a million things and in the moment you say it, it means one thing. And that thing is always very clear, in the moment.

Danyo looks back up at me with his ridiculously adorable blue eyes and squishy cheeks and says, "Ya! Rilly Mom! Rilly!"

The people behind me who had previously been annoyed that I went to the 20 item checkout with 19 things, the cashier who wasn't enchanted by my adorable little angels in the cart, all burst out laughing. I know they were laughing at me. I'm okay with that. All of them said something along the lines of "I guess you've met your match."

I never spoke to my mom like that!

You know how I can get away with outright lying like that on my blog? It's because my mom is too nice, she will never call me out. She reads every one of my posts, she almost always comments (in an email), but she will not out me on the internets. For the liar that I am.

Well, I got called in to work tonight. So that means instead of laying around in "workout clothes" eating snack packs of chips, I have to get dressed and comb my hair. It's a little depressing, but someone has to put the junior bacon cheeseburgers on the table. That's my husband's humor, by the way.