Overheard tonight while in the front yard, watching two 6-yr-old boys play on their bikes:

First Boy: Do you want to come over and play? Or maybe I can come over to YOUR house and play!

Second Boy: If you come to MY house, you will have to be careful.

First Boy: Why's that??

Second Boy: 'Cause I don't want you to break my collection of buddhas and deities.

(and it was at this point all of us mothers - sans his - stopped to stare, and then of course, I started giggling ...)

A follow-up to this post from this morning:

From: HotDrWife
Sent: Thursday, March 30, 2006 1:58 PM
To: HotDrHusband
Subject: wine

Has arrived, so you can breathe now.


From: HDH
To: HDW
Re: wine

(His-nickname-for-me):
My goal is to set up our cellar so that no matter how bad life gets with me and HDToddler aka THE STINK, you can go down there and pull out an excellent bottle of wine and make the pain go away.

HDH

My two-year-old son has a tendency to take off with (anybody's) shoes and we never, ever see them again. I am still looking for the matches of these two dress shoes. If you know where they are, hit me up!

(You can get in on the HNT fun by checking out Osbasso's blog or the HNT link on my sidebar)

Last night before bed:

Me: Hey! I'm soooo excited! I've lost three pounds!!

Him: (not looking up) Oh really? Did you take a three pound dump or something?


An email exchange this morning:


----- Original Message -----

From: HDH@irritating.com

To: HDW@patientbutnotforlong.com

Sent: Thursday, March 30, 2006 6:44 AM

Subject: Wine delivery

HDW,

There is a case of wine coming UPS today.

HDH


From: HDW
Sent: Thursday, March 30, 2006 7:43 AM
To: AssHatHDH
Subject: Re: Wine delivery



I like how you used (my nickname).
You mean I've got to be here all day again??? AAAAAAAAAARGH!

(remember: I waited around all day the last time for wine that didn't show until well after 5:30 pm. Today I need to run errands and get the hell out of this house, not sit around for wine that will show up around dinnertime)


FROM: HD"gonnadiesoon"Husband
TO: HDW Goddess
Re: Wine Delivery

Lets review- here is the coding (oh former coder)

I sign it (my nickname) when I am going to shit on you.

(YourRealName) when I am just communicating something.

Sorry, if tomorrow is better, fine ... So it is no big crisis when we get it.

In addition, every time we go over (to our neighbor's) I will bring a bottle of it (opened already) so I won’t have to drink that (certain wine label) cat piss they serve. The difference is when I get to drink wine it is a big deal – given call schedules and such – when he drinks wine it is just ‘cause he ran out of Scotch.

HDH




(I should add, we hosted a little something at our house last year for the neighbors. HDH had opened some really good stuff and offered it to his friends. One guy-neighbor said, "I don't know this" and went home to get his own. Now, HDH just wants to have good wine so he can make guy-neighbor ... uncomfortable? I don't know.)

All I know, is I'm not sticking around for long today.
MARK MY WORDS.

Dear Blog:

When I was in college, I was laughing my ass off at something ridiculous my roommate had said. I was holding a Coleman cooler lunch box and I slammed it shut. ON MY BOOBIE. And then I was laughing AND crying and everyone ELSE was laughing, and no one could get the lunchbox off my boobie. When the thing was finally excised, my nipple was squished and black and blue.

The next morning, I was getting ready (nekkid) and managed to drop a hot curling iron on it, as well.

I gave up on curling irons and lunch boxes then.

The End.

Around the holidays in December of 2003, I was almost seven-months pregnant with our son and big as a boat. Truly. I was miserable and waddled a lot.

We had volunteered (why?) to host a holiday party for my husband's section at the hospitalm as well as a division at the hospital they work closely with. So, not only did we have the doctors and wives I knew, but we had what seemed like 40 other people I didn't know from a hole in the ground. Normally, this would be no big thing. I could do my best and running around (read: waddling), and HDHusband could do the small talk with the guests. We could be a team! YAY!

Except ... we didn't plan on HDH coming down with a raging sinus infection. He spent the majority of the party upstairs in bed, sick as a dog. I spent the party, waddling around, making introductions, and trying to keep everyone from seperating like the damn Red Sea.

The evening progressed, and the Other Doctors kept getting more and more shit housed. One in particular kept trying to open wine bottles, but continued to break them.

When HDH finally was roused to come downstairs and at least hang out for a little bit (read: threatened with his life by me), he was given a speech I shall never forget.

HDH: Yah, I've got this pressure under my eyes. It's horrible.

DrunkDoctorWhoBrokeWineBottles: You know, so-and-so thought he had a sinus infection. But he didn't have a sinus infection! OH NO! He ended up with a tumor behind his eye and it blew up. BLEW UP! You don't want to fuck around with that!!!

DrunkDoctorsWife: Shut up, DD. You're scaring his wife.

Me: Giggling at the "you don't want to fuck around with that" part. We've now used this term a million times over and over again.

After HDH went back up to bed and the party continued, I went up to check on my husband. He was just knocking back the last little bit of the cough syrup with codeine. This syrup was old, I thought, so I didn't think much could happen. Um, yah. I was really waaaaaaaay off that ...

Me: Here are some warm compresses for your face. Just lay back, k?
HDH: Hey .... (big pause) ... What team do you play for?
Me: What do you mean, 'what team'?
HDH: You know, what NBA team do you play for??

OH MY GOD.

I hid the bottle in my jewerly box (and told him I played for the Pistons). I put him to bed and prayed to God in heaven my husband didn't come down to the party in his underwear. It was possible that night. Trust me.

Finally, guests leave, the Nice Doctor's Wives cleaned up my kitchen ... but this, you see, is when the real party began.

I find my way upstairs, into bed, and pray my husband is asleep. Maybe by now he's gotten zonked out, right? Nope. Instead, he's moaning and making all sorts of horrific noises over there, but I keep still, hoping he'll make it through the night and we'll both get the last little bit of sleep we'll ever have again (cue baby in March).

Thirty (fast) minutes later: HDH jumps out of bed - all bald, 6'5" and 230 of him - and goes into the closet. Bear in a damn china cabinet. He's mumbling about 'needing pressure' on his face. He's looking, he says, for this sleeping eye pack they give you on international flights. He can't find it .

I'm closing my eyes (read: rolling them) to sleep as he gets back in the bed. And that's when I hear it ...

I look over and see my husband, flat on his back, with SKI GOGGLES ON. He's breathing like Darth Vader and swearing this is his last night on Earth.

And it almost was. I could have punched him them and it would have been enough pressure, believe me.

He might try to dispute this story ... and I welcome it, but all and all, this is a pretty freaking accurate description of the worst holiday party of my LIFE.

We have hosted other parties since, but none related to the section/division. I'm not sure we will ever again.

HDHusband was bent over tonight looking in a cabinet for tupperware (what a good kitchen bitch!), teasing me about something (not unusual).

But tonight, I decided to retaliate.

I gave him a damn good wedgie. Not too hard, but I pulled those fuckers UP!

Conversation that follows:

Him: OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!! ARE WE IN JUNIOR HIGH AGAIN?

(me, giggling uncontrollably)

Him: YOU GAVE ME INDIAN SHORTS!

me: What the hell are Indian Shorts?

Him: Indian Shorts. You know, they sneak up on you and wipe you out.

(me, laughing so hard I start and almost pee my pants --- and he was laughing, too. I promise!)

Because the weather sucked today (25-30 mph winds), we decided to take HDToddler to The Children's Museum. Such the mecca of coolness for little kids. They had a little grocery store complete with a check out stand, fruits and veggies they could 'scan', very cute (HDT kept putting groceries in another kid's basket).

Then ... then we stumbled across a room that took an act of God to remove our child from.

HDHusband and I can't quite come up with the right name for it (burrough, maybe?), but here is the website with photos. You could climb the branches and go up on top of the hill, or take the (small) tunnel through and get lost. Doesn't look too massive, but there are tons of twists and turns under there.

Because my son is 2, but is tall enough to look about 4, I had to go into that damn tunnel with him. A lot of other mothers were in there, and a lot of patient 'big' kids who were trying to get around us. (My favorite comment was, "EXCUSE ME MISSUS! I NEED TO GOOOOOO!")

Inside, you had about ... oh, I'd say ... NO ROOM to move. It's clearly not built for someone Mom Size. But, for the love my son, I was crawling around in a very small space, pointing out the stuffed ants and skunks that he was clearly not interested in. He wanted to climb back up the freakishly small space and go up onto the mountain, only to fall (head first in a 'controlled slide) back down inside the hole.


HDHusband's perspective as reported to me later:

"You went in, and then I swear half of the children living in Denver went in behind you. I kept waiting and waiting for you to come out, but you didn't. I started to think if I heard crying in there that it wasn't coming from a kid but my wife!!"


We stumbled across a fire truck before we left, and this was super cool to HDT, as well. They had little fireman jackets to put on, a stuffed dalmation, and a whole bunch of bells and whistles and button and knobs to turn.

So, all in all, a good day out of the wind.

Sidenote: HDH made a fantastic dinner last night. And as he was preparing something requiring fresh basil (that he had just purchased pre-packaged at the grocery store), he opened the container and there was a lone lady bug, hanging out on the leaves.

After unsuccessfully trying to get the ladybug to stop flying off my hand and go outside, it flew away and I figured we'd find a dead ladybug sooner or later. Turns out, the ladybug was hitching a ride on my kid's hair.

HDToddler and I spent the afternoon outside, running around, jumping in puddles, checking out ladybugs, and generally, getting really messy.

We came inside, I changed HDT's stinky diaper, and left the bath tub duty up to Daddy. After about 15 minutes, this is the report I get from HDHusband:

HDH: HE JUST CRAPPED IN THE TUB!!! IT'S A FLEET OF SUBMARINES!!! YUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

ME: Laughing my ass off.

Apparently, a little someone felt way too comfortable in the warm water. And even better that the 'fleet of subs' was on Daddy's watch, not mine.

A few of the things I've done on this fine (finally a beautiful day outside) Friday:

1. I spent an hour figuring out how to get a fucking Trojan virus off this computer. It couldn't be 'cleaned', but was 'moved'. Once I figured out what the hell to do, I got that fucker deleted from the computer.

2. Continued nursing a headache I've had for five days which has now spread into my jaw. What the hell?

3. Entertained a two-year-old with a lot of renditions of nursery songs - the favorite being Ring Around The Rosie. You start singing that song, and he falls down on the spot. Very funny.

4. Spent another big chunk of time trying to figure out a bill from Children's Hospital. YOU PEOPLE ARE STUPID!! They have sent us a bill again (this is the second) for a procedure done in Dec. of 2004.

First time we receive the bill (LAST MARCH), I call the insurance company and they say they never received a claim for the procedure. I tell this to the lady at Children's. And today in the mail, a snotty little note from the same wench at Children's, threatening all sorts of shit if we don't pay. I call up our insurance company again, and yep!! Still no claim filed. I am NOT PAYING $162.01 for something they haven't even filed with our insurance company. They can lick shit.



5. Waiting (and waiting) for a delivery from UPS. It's important. A box of WINE. But, because it is required that someone over 21 sign, and it's important for me to drink this shit after today, I am waiting ever-so-patiently. I took the fastest shower in the world in case they rang the bell. I have wanted to take my son outside and go for a walk as the weather has been so, so pretty. But nope. We're sitting here ... waiting.

He's taking a nap. I'm waiting, anyway ...

Did you like the cartoon a couple posts below, 'Flirting'?

Then head to my friend Clairebell's blog and see some more Cyanide and Happiness.

Thanks for finding those, CB!

Oh, HDToddler.

Tonight, HDToddler climbs up the ladder by fish tank. Daddy had been using ladder to reach into fish tank and pick at coral, using some big ass tweezers.

HDToddler proceeds to use fish tank as canvas and makes his masterpiece in the left corner of the tank. Corner? Well, not really. Try "a lot more of the corner than not".



You cannot see the scratches in this photo, as they are hard to capture on camera. But TRUST ME PEOPLE: there are a lot, and they are deep. Sigh. I used some buffing cream that HDHusband bought called 210 Plus while HDH was un-steaming in the other room. He swears he can take them out using a big buffer thingie in the garage, but will do it later. (Note to self: BE GONE LATER)


HDToddler gave Daddy a kiss after it was all said done. And I had a SUPER CUTE photo to post here of HDToddler, but blogger is being a temperamental bitch tonight ... maybe later ...

I've already subjected Fyrchk, Dark Damian and Laurie to my rant about what happened a few hours ago.


Now, I subject the rest of you to it:

DAMN DENVER DRIVERS!

For those of you familiar with 9th Ave. and Colorado, you'll know how busy it is. It's extremely busy. Colorado Blvd. itself just SUCKS.

So, I was on my way to pick up HDH and take him to get his car from the shop. I turn onto 9th, and the street is already packed. PACKED.

I'm trying to get under the bridge to pick HDH. I don't need a parking spot. A woman in the little Civic in front of me decided she wanted a parking space parallel to where I was at the moment. She stopped about two car lengths up and started to back up.

THERE WAS NOWHERE FOR ME TO GO.

I could not go back - there were five (impatient) people in their cars behind me, and many starting to jam back up on Colorado.

I could not go around - there were already cars in the direction waiting to turn onto Colorado.

She continued to back up. She about hit my car trying to get into the space. A man in a car facing the other direction began honking at her to stop. She was half-way into the space, then .... flipped me off.

I flipped her off in return.



And the only thing keeping me from stopping under the bridge and walking a nasty-0-gram back to the windshield of her car was the flowers I saw in the backseat of her car. I'm sure she was on her to give them to a sick relative, friend, something, and maybe - just maybe - she was already worked up about that.

Maybe.

But that's the free pass of the year, folks.

Still. Pissed. Grrrrrrr ..........

An Irish Palm Pilot!

(Come on, it's funny, dammit. Have a fun and safe St. Patty's Day!)

I drove up yesterday to Breckenridge to meet HDHusband (he went up the day before for a meeting). I was going to take my time going up the mountain, then looked out and saw a nice, big, ominous cloud and decided to get my shit in gear and go.

I left at noon. I got there at 3:00. I drove through white-out conditions and asshole Spring Breaker's who obviously wanted to die by the way they were driving. The only break of sun was a two-mile traffic jam (due to construction) that took 40 minutes to get through. My windshield wipers were sucking, and even more so because of the wind blowing us off the road. Had I had my baby in the car, I would have turned around and gone home.

But ... this was a night to drink and be merry, dammit. So, after cursing a lot and listening to music to fuel the cursing, I pulled into the resort. Got lost (again) trying to get to the stupid building we were staying at. We are in the SAME EFFING BUILDING EVERY YEAR, and this is the 5th year I've gone. You'd think I'd have it figured out by now!! When you park in the garage, there aren't signs pointing to Bldg. 4. You have options to park close to Building 2 or 3 and I always think that it would make sense to park closer to 3. I'm wrong every time, and every time I swear I hate the place. And yet I go back. Why? We're not paying for the room, that's why. (Thank you Dept. of Surgery!)

We had a great dinner (martini, wine, Bailey's and coffee), then set out to find a swimsuit for me. I had managed to forget mine in the rush to get the hell out the door (you know, trying not to get STUCK on I-25 for 3 hours, yuk-yuk). Ended up in the outdoor hot tub looking up at the stars for a good half of an hour. It was HEAVEN. And the swimsuit I found wasn't half bad. (I still hate swimsuits, and I still hate being in them)

There wasn't much sleep had because it's a double bed, and my husband is 6'5" and 240. I kept getting elbows to the head most of the night, and the covers kept getting kicked off. About 4:00 a.m., some asshat upstairs decided to get up, stomp around in his ski gear. Needless to say, we were up at 6:00 and out the door by 6:30. Back down the mountain (icy before Eisenhower Tunnel and decent after that), home now, and ready to start another day. I will be napping, of course.

Here's a photo of me post-all-those-beverages I mentioned last night.

"Happy Apple Friends All Episodes" ... from someone in the UK.

I had my first kiss at the County Fair.

I choose to remember this kiss the way most little girl's would ... sparks and fireworks, you know.

I had the biggest crush on this guy. I mean, it was just plain ridiculous. For almost two years, I'd followed him around like a little puppy dog. He was about three years older than me, from a different school, and oh-so-charming. He made me laugh, he was quirky: he was mine.

The County Fair is the huge social event in a small town like ours. All these towns join together, stomp around in cow shit, ride the Ferris Wheel and stuff our faces with funnel cake. You know, total romance, baby.

What do I want to remember??

I remember sitting in the front seat of his car, laughing, and he leaned over and kissed me. Softly and gently on the lips. I remember a song by Mr. Big playing on the radio, and I remember turning into a complete pile of mush. It was innocent and lovely.

What really happened?

We'd been on the Rock-o-Plane (a ferris wheel where the boxed in seats can be moved back and forth as you go round and round). I'd been riding with him and laughing my ass off. And then it happened ....

Someone BARFED on us. Someone couldn't handle the Rock-o-Plane and blew chow all over us. I was covered in funnel cake and burrito. He laughed even harder, flicking pieces of barf off our legs. I don't remember it getting in our hair, but I remember his shirt was covered in someone's yack.

We went back to his car so he could change shirts. I hung-out in the front seat, totally appalled that I was covered in puke.

And he kissed me.

Still, I was a pile of mush in the front seat, but covered in it as well.

Only me, folks. Only me.

I'm just a touch bent this morning. A little on the pissed off side, methinks. And if you aren't in the mood for an angry rant with nothing funny whatsoever to read, skip this post entirely.


Late last year, my little brother's birthmother found him. My brother was beyond thrilled to learn about his history, know more about his bio-family, and has been in touch with everyone but the birthfather since then.

My brother told me for two reasons:

1. I am adopted, as well, and I could relate well (or guess, anyway) at how he was feeling. To go your entire life looking in the mirror and not seeing any family resemblance isn't always easy.

2. Our adoptive mother (whom I refer to as The Emotional Vampire or Captain Bringdown ... no, really) is the most narcisstic person I know. We knew she'd flip out. We knew she'd try and make this happy occasion into something all about her. She'd charge in and ruin this.



Yesterday, my grandmother called (mom's mom). My mom had apparently just found out five months later. My nephew (six) had spilled the beans and my brother had to tell her what had happened. And my mother did exactly what I expected her to to do - make it entirely about her.

This is my brother's ... this new relationship with his biological family . His biological mother hasn't pushed anything, only to tell him how much she wanted to know more about him. She told him she was 15, and after having him, wanted him back, that she tried to get my brother back from my parents. And in all fairness, it would have been harder for her ... my brother has Sensory Integration Dysfunction with Hyperactivity. He was a total handful growing up. He required a lot of time and resources.

My brother showed me photos of her and his half-siblings. It's uncanny. They look just like him. In one photo, I thought of sure I was staring at my brother around the age of 9. I have not met them, and I'm not sure I ever will. It's just fine if I don't - this is my brother's. He owns this experience. Of course, I'm curious - but truly, it's more self-directed now that he's found his. I wonder more about mine. This is a new path for him, and I'm proud that he's taking it and learning about his biological family and their history.

According to my grandmother, my mother's first statement to my brother was, "So, does she want to meet me?"

Oh, EmotionalVampire, it's all 'drama, drama' for you, now isn't?

Not, "How incredible. How are you feeling about this?"
Or, "What is she like? Do you have brothers or sisters?"

No, just the assumption that it's going to be a big group hug. Not hardly. When his bio-mom asked about his family, my brother said, "My dad died and my sister is married with a kid". When she asked him about EmotionalVampire, my brother said, "Well, it ain't all that good." That's quite the understatement.

My mother told my grandmother that she's now 'lost both of her children'. And at least half of that is true: she lost me years ago.

Too many episdoes of verbal abuse ("You killed your father; you broke his heart and he DIED!"), physical abuse (getting suckerpunched down the stairs at 8-yrs-old and knocked out cold) and countless of other issues, finally forcing me to protect myself and my family from her.

I finally cut ties with her almost two years ago, and I have not looked back since. I don't miss feeling like shit. I don't miss begging for love I was never going to get. I don't miss having a narcissitic person sucking the life out of me. I don't miss throwing a bucket down a well expecting water and getting dust. It wasn't a hard decision once it was made. The only regret I have is that I didn't have a mother I could go to and talk with. I couldn't trust my mother and still can't do this day.

My brother is tied to her for various reasons. She controls him financially - which is the biggest reason why he sticks around for more. Every time he starts to gain his independence, she pushes my brother down again. She truly is the "no more wire hangers!!" mom. (HDH does a great impression, by the way)

I expected all of her control issues to seep back up when she found out about the news. Everything I predicted she'd do, she has. The spotlight must always be on her, you know. It's a matter of time before she hunts the woman down herself because my brother won't pony up a name and number.

If she's not careful, my brother will tell the biological mother exactly the kind of bat-shit crazy person my mom has been;she'll have a whole new war to contend with. He'll tell his biological mom about how his mom tried to hit him while he had his son in his arms, and instead of taking a hit, he grabbed her hand and said, "You will never hurt me or sis ever again" - and held on to her so tightly he broke a little bone in her little finger.

If my brother wanted to, he could say quite a bit. He won't, but he could.

Oh, I find this law so very important.

I'm a huge supporter in Colorado (read: in touch monthly with those who passed this and spread the word to the community) and will always be.

This story features my high school girlfriend's husband ... a firefighter at the station where the baby was delivered and left to be taken good care of. He's not happy with the attention for himself, but it's imperative for those who are in this situation to know this is a very real and safe option for their babies.

Granted, this law came into effect about the time I had my son. Within MONTHS of having him, two women left their full-term babies in trashcans --- one in a bar trashcan. This hurt me to the core. This is an OPTION. Within 72 hours of having your child, you can relinquish your baby at a fire station with no penalites, no questions asked. You can give at the very least THIS gift .... ?

Woman Gives Birth To Baby At Ft. Collins Fire Station

Last night, after putting HDToddler to bed and picking out a movie to watch with HDHusband ... I had my glass of wine and was ready to head downstairs.

And that's when I saw it ...

The Artist Formerly Known as HDT had taken purple crayon and made the wall his own. I was laughing and completely failed to take a picture of said "artwork". Lots of busy lines here and there, around the corner and onto the wall by the fridge.

He had obviously taken his time.

Where the hell were we when this happened?? Making dinner, putting laundry in ... I'm not sure, but he was busy for quite some time.

(I noticed later the crayon and been 'tossed aside' ... almost like, "... and I'm SPENT!!")

I remembered years ago my girlfriend telling me that best thing ever for crayon on walls was The Magic Eraser. She had sent out an email detailing what her son had done to their freshly painted walls, and wanted me to know "in case that ever happens to you". I didn't have HDT yet, but I stored it away ...

People, the art is now gone from the walls. The Crayons (and hopefully ALL OF THEM THIS TIME) have been put away. Replacing them now is a birthday gift from Mom and Dad:

Aquadoodle.

No mess. Just add water.

Works for me.

Truly and without pause, I hate mornings.

Do you know what I hate more than mornings? HDH should know, as he DOES IT EVERY FREAKING MORNING!!

He wakes me up. Chattering away in the bathroom, trying to sit on my legs to get ready, babbling along about crap that matters not before 6:30 a.m. Because HDH is up early, everyone else must be, too.

This morning was no different.

6:15 a.m.
HDW: .................. sleeping away, after hitting the bed at 11, and knowing HDToddler won't be up until at least 8:30 a.m.

HDH: Hey, do you want to hear my impersonation of the American Idol judges?

HDW: No.

HDH: My coordinator thought it was funny yesterday.

HDW: So call her now. She might not think it's so funny at 6:15 a.m. Stop talking.

HDH: No, really. It's funny. You know, "Waddup Daaawg".

HDW: Stop talking or I swear when they ask me what your last words were, and I will tell them, "I don't know. He was gurgling a lot". Be quiet.

HDH: Okay, so this is Randy (proceeds to do this impersonation). And Paula ... and Simon.

HDW: (putting a pillow over my head and begging for death)

And because it takes me a hell of a long time to fall asleep in the first place, and a long time to get BACK to sleep once I am awakened by said-stupid-shit-babbling, I'm not a nice person to be around - even more than usual.

Reminds me of the song by the Ben Taylor Band:

But she don't like early in the morning, best to let her wake herself
If you can't respect her warning
You might wind up waking someone else

Don't worry, HDH. It's ON. You want to sleep in this weekend? Nope. I'm sending HDToddler in at oh-dark-thirty to jump on your head with the stinky diaper I didn't change.

Kid gloves OFF!!

People, I have found my soulmate. Someone who uses the "F" word just as much as me!! (and a favorite word is "fucktard" .. love that word)

Tonight, I met Kath (a fellow blogger, a recent transplant from FL to CO) for drinks (dirty martini's!) and appetizers at a fantastic bar in the neighborhood.

What a GREAT time!!

We had a great time meeting, exchanging stories, drinks, and laughs. We met a gentleman from Australia that owns mines, has been around the world and ended up on the right end of a "Copper" from Denver (yay, Monty!). He was 65, I believe, and still had the Mack Daddy shit goin'. We have business cards ... and I'm sure we're both respectivately Googling him now. Ha!

We're headed out again next weekend to celebrate St. Patty's Day in true Denver fashion. (And Frank, keep your Denver digs to yourself ... You're just jealous you aren't here to kick up your happy heels with us. Bish!)

Kath, it was a blast, and I'm hoping we do it again real soon!

Jillibean, I'm hoping you got our message (could you even hear it from that loud bar?) and will plan on joining us in 5280 soon. VERY SOON!!

My son won't say anything when you ask him how old he is, no matter how hard I've tried. Instead, he's been singing a part of the Happy Birthday song ...

His version:

"Happy ........... yooooooooooooooooooooou" (the abridged version, apparently)

This morning, HDToddler was sitting in the living room watching his morning cartoon. I headed upstairs to change shirts ... and as I'm coming back down the stairs, I hear him singing the "Happy You" song.

Only he's pushed up a barstool up to the kitchen island, sat down, and had taken off the lid to the leftover cake. He most definitely had his way with the remainder of said cake with lots of frosting by 7:20 a.m.

It was priceless.

We had the little neighborhood kids over tonight for pizza and cake. The parents had their choice of a myriad of alcoholic beverages. The party was not nearly as chaotic as the party on Saturday afternoon, but still, some major damage was done.

I overheard a conversation though that had me laughing, and astounded:

5-yr-old son to mom:

C: Hey mom. Were you ever skinny like BullemicMom? (no really, she is)

Mom: WHAT? What do you mean?

C: I mean, were you ever, you know, THIN, like that? Like back when you were skinny?

She's not heavy. Not in the slightest. She's a woman with curves and has taken good care of herself. She isn't vomiting up dinners and working out 22 out of the 24 hours in a day.

She laughed; I found it sad.

I'd rather have womanly curves than a stick figure like that. And I hope my son knows the difference some day, too.

And on the present front, we have a plethora of toys that I'll never ever be able to keep track of. Ever.

I give you ... 9-months-pregnant and ready to blow. I remember thinking that there wasn't much more I could take of feeling like a bloated sea cow. I escaped without stretch marks on the belly, though. Note: I'm still sportin' a thong. I'm sure I looked deaaaaaaaaaaaaaad sexy in that, too.









The Bug arrives. Labor started early on Sunday morning (around 1:00 a.m.) and ended on Monday night at 7:08 p.m. Yes, two minutes apart that entire time, with not a lot of dilation. Finally, after an hour of pushing, this little man came into the world all too silent. After the neo-natal team brought my baby back to life, I held him and fell in love instantly. I knew then I would lay down my life for this child - then, now, or always. He owns my heart.

(During the pushing part, HDH said, "OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT HEAD!!" No shit. Bug weighed in a 8 lbs and 10 oz of pure muscle)



Sleep?? Sleep is for the weak. After one of the longest nights of my life, HDH snapped this photo. He says this photo is likened to the Civil War soldiers who died in battle and just fell where they were.

Oh Momma. You had months ahead of this same thing ...








Last year on his 1st birthday.

So many lovely things have happened this past year ... he's learned to talk, express himself (temper tantrums, yay!), give kisses, tell us about the fish and babies and a whole mess of things. He's been healthy and happy and well, what else can a two-year-old ask for, right?






So, Happy 2nd Birthday, Bug. We love you very, very much!!








"Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)"

Dragon tales and the "water is wide"
Pirate's sail and lost boys fly
Fish bite moonbeams every night
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

The rocket racer's all tuckered out
Superman's in pajamas on the couch
Goodnight moon, we'll find the mouse
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

God bless mommy and match box cars
God bless dad and thanks for the stars
God hears "Amen," wherever we are
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

What an odd and incredible painful last few days this has been. I shake my head even as I write this ...

First of all, my car. Because the in-law's were coming into town, I thought it would be nice of me to have my car all spiffied up. You know, I thought they might like to ride in a clean car versus a car owned and operated by a 23-month-old. I'm nice that way.

What I did NOT plan on was the absolute shit job they would do on my car - all the way around. The car is gone no more than the 20-30 minutes it usually is gone during said detailing. This is where I went for said shit detailing, and I wouldn't advise going to this Fucktard's-R-Us Detailing Center #2:

Upon return:

1. My carseat didn't scoot back anymore. My legs were jammed up so far underneath the steering column, I bruised my thigh numerous time trying to get the fuck out of the car. When I pulled over about a block away, I looked under the seat to find a can of something jammed underneath the seat. Because I'd been driving a good long time without any trouble with my carseat, this was concerning. And because I couldn't fix it in an abandoned parking lot at noon, I decided to go home.

2. I noticed when I got out in the parking lot that the lazy fucktards hadn't really cleaned my car at all. The backseat still had HDToddler remnants all over. Dried milk from throwing his cup that morning. Pieces of crumbs on the back seat floor. NOTHING WAS DIFFERENT. Well, other than the fact I couldn't MOVE BACK MY SEAT!!

3. I came home, and realized they'd fucked up my key. Likely, they used it to try and dig free the can of whatever underneath the car seat and broke it. This angers me more. Why? It will be fucking expensive to fix. Damn foreign car keys. My dad would be turning in his grave now.


Once in the garage ... oh, the safety of my garage ... I unleashed the Fury That Is HDW and beat the ever-loving shit out of the can under my seat with a wrench. I attacked it with such force, I believe - truly - I let out years of pent up anger. Then, I got the can free from the seat and removed it (read: threw it far) from the car (read: across the garage).

I think I have the car problem solved. I think I'm going to have a couple of relaxing hours before the In-Law's arrive. I am wrong again.

In a matter of minutes, my car goes from broken to possessed. The horn is going off. The car is locking and unlocking by itself. I still don't see Ashton Kuchter punking me, but it's possible at this point. And had he been there, I would have shoved the can of whatever up his ass. Truly.

In the end (a weekend later), it's determined by the Yo-Ho's at the dealership that three things have happened to the car:

1. someone broke the key
2. someone stuck a hose under the seat and unhooked a cord ($57, please)
3. a leak in the windshield wiper fluid container ($230 or some such amount)


One funny:
On my way home from picking up the car, I stopped in at Walgreen's. There was a woman in some 80's leotard with a big bandana, and big ol' curly ass hair. She was chattering up a storm to the guy behind me.

CrazyWoman: They are going to stop selling DVD's here. That's what they told me. ... jibberishjibberishjibberish ... because Snickers are better.

GuyInLine: That's wild.

CW: I have premonitions. They aren't just regular ones you get, but REAL ones. .... jibberishjibberish ... Sonny and Cher, but I told her, Sonny is gonna die. Dead on a tree. .... more jibberish ... And I can tell you when you'll die. I can see people dying before they die.

GL: That's crazy.

I check-out, get to the car, and see in time the Guy In Line RUNNING in a dead sprint to his car. He says to me, "That chick is fucking WHACK, man. She ain't with me!!"

And you say Denver is boring. Meh.

We had a party for my son this weekend ... I can hardly believe he'll be TWO next week. (I say that, then he throws himself on the floor in a rage over not getting a 'cookeeeeeee' at 7:00 a.m., and then it seems that two isn't that hard to believe), but I digress.

HDToddler loving the streamers:


HDToddler in love with his FAVORITE gift ... a Nemo that blows bubbles. He now says, "MEMO! BUBBLES!!"

HDToddler and his Momma (who had spent five hours running after little children amped up on sugar). I promptly fell asleep after this:

And the gayest gift ever. His grandparents gave him a photo of their favorite cat. Like he's going to care:

Kath tagged me:

Top Ten Movie Choices - and in no order:

1. The Goonies:
"Goonies never say die!!"

2. Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead:
"I am Godzilla! You are Japan!" (Critical Bill)

3. The Breakfast Club:
"Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy."

4. Chasing Amy:
"All every woman really wants, be it mother, senator, nun, is some serious deep-dickin'."

5. We Don't Live Here Anymore:
"It's much easier living with a woman who feels loved."

6. Miller's Crossing:
"Sister, when I've raised hell, you'll know it!"

7. Love Actually:
“When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge- they were all messages of love”

8. Me You and Everyone We Know:
"I just wish I had met her 50 years sooner. But then maybe I needed 70 years of life to be ready for a woman like Ellen."

9. The Big Lebowski:
"You mark that frame an 8, and you're entering a world of pain."

10. Whale Rider:
I loved this movie. LOVED IT. Bawl every time. The music is incredible. I might have to go be sappy and watch it again!

1. I got new bras today. I had to be fitted all over again. Having a baby and losing weight will really force a person into the little Boobie Boutique. I felt like a brand new woman leave that place. I dropped a King's Ransom on them, but whatever. It's been way. too. long. since I've purchased new bras (um, like years??).

HDH will be happy. Or he'd better NOTICE (ahem!).

2. There was a giant grass and brush fire burning near my hometown (not ultra-close, but still close to our farm/ranch) yesterday. It burned 23,000 acres, people. 10 miles WIDE in some places. They aren't reporting any lives lost, but structures are gone and likely livestock lost. I wonder what started it ... definitely not lightning.

3. Watched a seriously intense movie with HDH last night called "We Don't Live Here Anymore". My movie crush, Mark Ruffalo, plays in the film. HDH asked me why I liked him - and I said, "I'm not sure. Maybe it's just the characters he plays". HDH continued to call him "Mark Hump-alo" the rest of the night. And he's right. I'd hump that man silly.

4. We're celebrating my son's 2nd birthday this weekend. Lots of little people running around, family flying in from Oregon, etc. It will be mass chaos at our casa. Little kids all amped up on sugar ... everyone fighting for the same toy ... oooooh, lawd. What was I thinking??

Simple:

Shave or wax the bikini area?

What's the recommendation on this?

I've shaved for so long, but I'm ready to give the other a try if it's better.

I have no modesty - that's really not the issue.

What do you do with YOUR nether regions??

Thoughts?