swimming

i always know when summer actually hits, because it turns into a little people nudist colony at my house. (not talking about my husband, people.) my kids shed their clothes and shoes when it heats up and don't really come in from being outside during their waking hours. they love playing in the sandbox, on the swing set...and in the mud. today my two year old sat on my lap outside and blew bubbles for 25 minutes, then both kids ran through the sprinkler like two crazy fools. i do love this about my kids, because if they didn't like being outside...it would kinda piss me off. (just telling the truth here.) i love being outdoors and seeing them run amok barefoot in the yard makes me very happy. my husband, on the other hand, enjoys a well air conditioned room and his lazy boy. he's content just layin' there...man parts akimbo, watching his episodes of bait car and spooky movies. to each is own, though, if that's what makes him happy...whatever. (he's "relaxing" as he says.) so the start of summer doesn't only mean i'm running a nudist colony in my backyard, it also means i have to catch up on cleaning and stuff that i have let go the whole school year. when i actually have a chance to sit and look around at the filth, it makes me want to do one thing...and that is burn the house down. i've had to let a lot of my cleaning psychosis go after i had children, but it still creeps in every once in a while and makes me want to light a match and set this place ablaze. moreover, i also always save summertime for other things like doctor appointments and our newest endeavour...swim lessons.

taking my kid to swim lessons is something that i see as a very "adult" thing to do. (agree?) i mean, i still feel like i'm straight out of an episode of 16 and pregnant...but here i am taking my kid to swim lessons. (maybe i'm the only one that feels this way.) i was actually really nervous on tuesday because i didn't know where the pool was, what these lessons were going to entail, and plus...i was required to actually get in the water with my just turned 4 year old. (yikes!) as we arrived at the aquatic center, i walked in the door and stated to the guy at the desk, "we are here for swim lessons, and it's our first time." he looked me in the eye and said, "oh no! didn't they call you!?" i said, "no?" he went on, "all lessons are cancelled for today." i said, "WHAT?!" a huge smile came across his face and then he said, "just kidding, here's your pass...you can go right in there to the pool and warm up." (now it was my turn to mess with him...) i yelped, "warm up!? i signed her up for a class called tadpoles...i didn't know we were here for the olympic trials?!" he lost it laughing and said, "mark will be your instructor, he will get you when he is ready. have fun!" when i walked through the doors, i fully expected (was hoping) to see a michael phelps look alike. i was sadly mistaken when a very large middle aged man, with an even larger head waved at me from the pool. he somehow stuffed himself into a full body wet suit (tight as a bologna skin) and all i could think about was how much he did not look like michael phelps. regardless, he seemed pleasant, and that was refreshing. the wet suit was a little intense...but whatever worked for mark, worked for me.

across the pool in another quadrant, there was some type of senior citizen jazzercise class going on in the water. there were about 25 women between the ages 65-85 just getting all aerobic in the waves. the instructor hopped out of the water at one point and i could see she was wearing....sneakers. (what the hell?!) turns out they were all wearing sneakers. also, there is something very wrong about the aforementioned group of women getting down to blurred lines by robin thicke. (the song was blasting.) then, a man in about his eighties walked by us in a speedo and winked at me. ella turned to me after seeing all this going on and said very seriously, "are we at the right place!?" (i lost it.) mark then told us to strip down and get into the pool. ella was very compliant and excited...and i was glad that there was only one other mom in the class, with her 4 year old son. she was 47 and had a 4 year old. (holy cripes.) i jokingly asked her if she was, "done." and she said, "um, yeah..i'm done." meanwhile this crazy ass kid was splashing her in the retinas with chlorine. ella thought this whole charade was hilarious and started belly laughing...making the kid act even more wild. most of the class was uneventful, but then mark said..."alright moms! grab a noodle and put it between your legs!?" (what in the...?) i said, "excuse me?" and gave him some eyebrows. he said (between chuckles), "you are going to ride the noodle like a horse with your child...so SADDLE UP!" (oh for fucksake.)

so there i was, straddling the noodle like it was mr. ed and ella was sitting in front of me on the same noodle laughing her head off. i was hopping up and back the length of the pool on it, like it was a goddamn pony. i gave mark a look like, "this is so eff'd up." mark thought this was highly hilarious. (you are not funny, mark.) however, this turned out to be ella's favorite part of the class...she thought it was great. i tried to remember that as i regained my dignity...which happened shortly after pulling the noodle out from in between my legs. right at the very end of swim lessons, ella declared, "i really have to go to the bathroom." now i had a coupla options here, and i knew we didn't have very long to go...so i could: a. tell her to hold it. b. tell her to pee in the pool. (which is totally what i would do.) c. take her immediately. (ps. does telling your child to pee in the pool make you a bad mother? i don't know.) and so, i went with option a and she made it the last couple of minutes. i will say, though, that whenever we are in public...we are now on a godforsaken potty tour. half the time i know damn well she doesn't have to use the bathroom, but she always asks when we are in a new place. (every. time.) i happen to hate public bathrooms, so this is something that really makes me question my choice to procreate. i always say, "just don't touch anything." and she stares at me, while touching everrrryyythhhinngg. then after we go, i want to spray her down from head to toe with sanitizer because she has touched way more then i ever would. so i really didn't know if she had to go at the aquatic center or not, so i just took her anyway. good thing i did this time, cause she actually went. (tour de shitter continues.)

we went back two more times this week for lessons and she loved every minute of them. i had to ride that noodle at every class and i really don't know if it was part of mark's regular instruction or if he just wanted to see me make an ass out of myself. either way, my kid had fun. i will tell you though, even though i said in the beginning that taking your kid to a swim lesson is a very "adult" thing to do...i felt more like a kid when i was actually there. i forgot how much fun an indoor pool and trying new things is...ella never forgets that important piece, cause she's a kid. she was splashing around and acting like it was the best day of her life. i guess one of the fun parts about parenting is living vicariously through your children and reliving your own childhood. i also know that when i sent the above picture of ella to my parents, they were living vicariously through me. (all my dad sent back was, "wow! flashback!" my mom stated, "she looks just like you did!") even though we wrapped up our lessons for this month today, we head back to the center for another 2 weeks of lessons in july. luckily, ella completed the tadpole set of sessions and is now considered a sunfish. (look out, phelps.) so when we return, i will not be required to be in the water with her...nor riding any noodles into the sunset. also, i refuse to go back in that bathroom...so i'm totally telling her it's perfectly acceptable to pee in the pool. my luck, though, she'll first announce it and then state, "my MOMMY SAID it was OKAY for me to DO" after she goes. i guess we will cross that bridge when we come to it, and if she happens to slip and fall off that bridge...at least she'll know how to swim. thank god i won't have to be there to save her...with a godforsaken noodle between my legs. saddle up!

simple

so ella got a lot of really cool presents at her birthday party this past weekend...but this one seemed to be her most favorite. someone needs to explain why this always happens. i mean, it legitimately looks like that giraffe from toys r us threw up things all over our house and backyard...but she was marching around yesterday with a mask made ala lager box on her head. even though it's kind of unnerving to have all of these toys for your children and then they prefer a beer box...it's one of the things i love best about kids. (their imagination and creativity, that is.) one time in my classroom i brought in a 6 pack of play doh and let the kids have at it. in about 15 minutes, they had an entire restaurant set up...with a kitchen, waitstaff, customers, and a cook who was serving play doh delicacies. so although i know technology is blowing up the free world right now, i also know that i do not need to shove an ipad in my kids' faces for them to be happy. technology is great, but not as great as a child's mind. as a mother and a teacher, i strongly feel this way. (steps off soap box.) now i'm not getting all high and mighty (or judgy) with those mom's that let their kids play video games and stuff like that, i'm just saying that i feel like as a generation we rush to placate our children with that shit and really...they are able to figure it out on their own. (you have to give them a chance.) when i was a kid (and being a pain in the ass), my mom used to simply say, "go play." (and we did.) little ones have fierce imaginations...and when they get "bored" is when their creativity really starts to brew. (i know this to be true.)

this catapults me into my next point...although technology is booming, kids still play with some of the same toys that i had when i was a kid. (other than boxes.) for instance...barbie dolls. ella received her first ever barbie as a birthday gift this weekend and as she opened it...i couldn't help but wonder when barbie became such a whore. (hear me out...) she was always really pretty (even 'back in the day') with her blonde hair, big boobs, and small waist...but i don't really remember the excessive amount of make up or accessories that she comes with now. i'm not one of those feminist mom's that said, "my daughter will never own a barbie"...she just never had one up until this point. when she unwrapped "hairdresser barbie" i did a double take on the box to make sure it wasn't "hooker barbie." i scanned the plastic container to see if she came with her own box of condoms. i shit you not, she did come complete with pink hooker boots and enough makeup to put rupaul to shame. this being said, i will not ever stop my daughters from playing with barbies if that's what they want to do...because i also enjoyed them as a kid. moreover, i don't think girls get a distorted self image by playing with them. (as some people believe.) girls know that real women don't look like that, i mean hell...my kids have me as their mother. i'm no barbie. (i'm like barbie's shorter, chubbier, brunette sister.) but i guess barbie has done a bit of a metamorphosis over the years and i kinda missed that. (make up and all.) ella thinks her hooker boots are really cool and as long as she doesn't ask me for a pair just like barbie's...i think we are good.

alright, enough about this toy talk. having a party (especially one of the birthday variety) is a complete pain in the dick. it's so much money, work, and effort...and then it's over in a couple of hours. i always clean like a banshee the days leading up to it and then it's a huge shithole after the event. in other words, i should've just left it a shithole, so it could get even more shitty. anyway, i had all the cleaning and cooking done prior to heading out for a run on saturday morning. butch was in the lazy boy watching frozen for the 3273 time with the kids when i said goodbye. i embarked out into the sunshine (hoping not to shit my pants) and when i arrived back home (46 minutes later), i opened the front door and was smacked in the face with the smell of gasoline. i couldn't even get a word out before he hopped around the corner and said, "i'm sooooo sorry!...i thought i could treat my poison ivy! over the kitchen sink! i only used a LITTLE BIT of it! and it still smells so bad!" (he was talking in exclamation points.) i. went. off. and gave him all kinds of colorful hell. i really wanted to high five him...in the face. with a chair. i started with, "didn't you learn your lesson the LAST TIME!?"...as this is not his first rodeo with the gasoline. a few months ago, he dumped an entire bucket of it down the drain thinking this was the best way to dispose of the substance. our house smelled for a week. this is also not his first rodeo with poison...as it infected his penis one time and he chose not to tell me prior to having intercourse. (no words.) it was clear though..that he had not "learned his lesson" because he did it again. nothing says "happy birthday, little ones!" like the smell of gasoline permeating your walls and furniture.

despite the smell, the party basically went off with out a hitch. we are at that weird transition stage where not all of our friend's have kids...only some of them do. you don't want to not invite the people without kids, but you know damn well that they probably don't want to subject themselves to the torture of 16 kids under the age of 10 running around the house and yard like little assholes. so your guest list includes mostly families, and a few close friends that can tune out the madness with the help of a few beers. at one point when there was an entire crazy asshole train of kids running and screaming through the house...i looked over at my dad. he said, "i'm too old for this shit...and went to grab a some sangria." (i already had a solo cup full...it's how i survive.) after the guests left and my own kids went to bed, i sent all of the boys out to the bar. first of all, i didn't want them messing up the house any more than it already was. second of all, i wanted them out of my hair. however, at 2am when warren still wasn't home, i called him and (kindly) asked him where the hell he was. he replied, "no worries! i'm walking home from the bar and i am going to get a ride the rest of the way with a bunch of mexicans!" sadly, this is not his first rodeo with this either. (stellar end to a child's birthday celebration.) so now that the birthday party is behind us..and we have enough tutu's and hooker barbies to last a lifetime, we can say sayonara to another year gone by. ella is pumped with her best present from the party ever...a beer box helmet. moreover, my kids forever remind me to enjoy the simple things. as we slide into summer, i promise not to forget the joys of lightening bugs, s'mores, sprinklers...and let's not forget the sangria.

gazelle

so i just want to put out there, that if you so choose to go on a sunset run shortly after you have consumed large amounts of seafood...you may want to reconsider. i did this on sunday evening and the end result was not really something i ever want to happen again in my lifetime. now let me start by saying that i hardly ever run late at night, especially after a large meal. i usually go right after school two days a week and during the girl's nap time on the weekends. even though i know it's totally acceptable to do an hour of exercise for myself a couple days a week, i still work around my kid's schedules because i have that pang of guilt that comes with the territory. the pull that tells you it's not okay to do anything for yourself, because there are little people that need you at all hours of the day. (the motherhood curse.) however, i don't only run because i like to consume cheeseburgers and beer without growing another set of ass cheeks...i also run because it makes me feel good. (endorphins are no joke.) the hour to myself in the sunshine is sometimes all i need to restore the sanity that motherhood has mangled...and i believe i am a better mom because of it. so anyway, i didn't have a chance to go during nap time yesterday, so after i put both kids down to bed and butch was settled in with an episode of bait car...i decided to lace up my shoes and set out.

normally i wouldn't embark on an adventure such as this so late on a sunday night, but i had wine and coors lites out the wazoo this past weekend. not to mention the oreo cream pie that fen's sister made for the girls' birthday's on saturday...that of which i consumed as if it was the last food on earth. this shit was so good that i could survive solely on it for the next 32 years and be very happy doing so. moreover, it probably had enough calories in one serving for me to grow that extra set of ass cheeks (that i was talking about earlier) on the spot. so anyway, we also had a heavy dinner for father's day...snow crab legs (butter a la mode) and a creamy shrimp vodka pasta that i made. (eat your heart out, martha stewart.) we decided to feed and bathe the kids first, then set them up with a showing of snow white...so that we could eat in peace. by "in peace," i mean not having to get up 73 times from the table because someone needs something or dodging spaghetti fragments flying about. we filled both of the kid's bellies with food and then warren took them up for a bath. i finished up making our dinner and we settled down at the pub table to eat it as soon as the seven dwarfs started singing their first song. moreover, whenever i eat a meal with my husband...i feel like i am on an episode of "man vs. food." it's like there is someone behind the scenes (that i don't see, but he does), with a stop watch. i shit you not, he makes me feel like he's racing me. this time i actually said, "slow the hell down!" to which he stated, "it's just so good. i can't." (oh sweet christ.)

as we finished up our seafood feast, i couldn't help feeling like a total blob. my second set of ass cheeks were mocking me from the stool and i knew i needed to do something. so after i put the kids up to bed i thought what the hell...i have nothing to lose. little did i know this statement would haunt me at about mile 2...clear through the end of the run. things started off smoothly as i got into a rhythm during mile 1. for some reason, the first mile for me is almost always the hardest. sometimes i dry heave and have to get myself together...thinking there is no way i can go on. however, by the time mile 2 arrives...i usually feel like forrest gump on his trek across the states. alas, this time, as i jogged into into mile 2, i could tell things were different. my seafood was sloshing around in my stomach and i was very unsettled. i decided to keep going and i turned out onto a main road. suddenly (and violently), it was as if the snow crab and shrimp had come back alive in my insides. all i know is, they wanted to get the hell OUT of my system. i wasn't sure at this point whether or not i was going to vomit on myself or shit my shorts...but both seemed like highly likely possibilities. i didn't know if i should slow down to a walk or speed up to a sprint. my head was spinning and the seafood was sparring my stomach and intestines like muhammad ali in a fight against mayweather. my body went through the fight or flight reflex and i decided it was best that i just run faster instead of walking. if i was going to shit my own pants in public, i better have made some sort of effort first to get the hell home.

despite pain in my stomach and lower region that rivaled labor pains, i ran as fast as i friggen could. my short stocky legs were going crazy and i must've looked like a chubby gazelle on crack. i started puke burping and letting flatulence fly. (i couldn't help it.) luckily, i was on a main road and there were cars whizzing by, so no one could hear the ode to the seafood i was so eloquently playing with my orifices. as i turned into mile 3, i knew the end was near. i came to the conclusion that there was a very real possibility that i might not be able to make it home in time. i wrapped by brain around the fact that i have never shit myself or puked in public before and at 32 years old, i may have to add that to my list of 'firsts.' tim mcgraw was singing sweet nothings in my ear about how a lady should act...and i knew damn well there was nothing lady like about what the hell was going on in that moment. after a few more intense pangs of pain, i finally turned onto my street and was so glad i was in the homestretch. when i arrived there, i was in a full blown sweat...partly because of the intense sprint i just endured and partly because of the fear i just faced. i jogged in the door and saw my husband in the same spot as when i left..on the lazy boy. luckily, just as fast as the seafood storm hit... it went away. (what the hell!?) i got some water and stood in the kitchen as he stared at me. i was still breathing heavily and said, "i almost just puked on myself and shit my own shorts on that run. it was awful." i wanted to go into more detail, but he just stared straight ahead at the tv...i can only assume he was second guessing his choice of marrying me. (whatever.)

although i thoroughly enjoy running at this point in my life, that is about 43 minutes i would really like to get back. had i unleashed crab on the side of the road or shrimp in my shorts, i would've died a little inside. (okay, a lot inside.) the fact that i couldn't get a grip on my bodily functions was enough to make me reconsider my life goals. i mean, i want to go to graduate school and earn a masters degree soon...but maybe i should focus on other things, like not crapping my pants in my early thirties. i've made a serious mental note that maybe running after a large meal is really not for me. (or anyone for that matter.) i should probably just stick to afternoon and nap time workouts. i'm not proud of my predicament, but i know for a fact that my friend fen has also experienced this phenomenon. she shared her story with me shortly after it happened a few months ago...and i died laughing. so that is why, dear friends, i am sharing it with you. maybe you aren't laughing with me on this one...maybe you are laughing at me, but guess what? i don't give a rat's ass because as long as you were laughing at all is what really matters. the birth of my first daughter taught me many important lessons...but most of all, she taught me not to take myself too seriously. after reading this story, you can tell i whole heartedly believe this statement. happy fourth birthday to my first born...may she never have the urge to simultaneously puke on herself or shit her pants in public due to seafood warfare. if this should happen, though, i hope she has the sense and ability make it home like her mother...by running into the sunset like a chubby gazelle on crack.

lemons

 

when i arrived home last sunday afternoon, i felt like i was walking into a taping of "what not to wear: toddler edition." both of my girls greeted me at the door with hugs and then i leaned back and took a long look. (lemon shirt? yes.) they paraded around for a while (proud as peacocks) and then ran off to play. i walked around to the corner to find my husband lounging in his lazy boy. i said, "what the hell are they wearing?!" he replied, "i told ella to dress herself and pick something out for her sister to wear. she even dressed her for me!" (oh, good.) i went on, "did you go anywhere with them dressed like that?" he said, "yeah, the store and stuff...people were staring. who cares." he went back to watching bait car and i went about cleaning up the mess that was left from the 37 hours i was absent from our house. mothers are born multitaskers, where as men feel better focusing on one thing. my husband's goal that weekend was: "keep the kids alive." he succeeded. the fact that our kids were dressed like circus clowns, the house was in complete disarray, and the laundry was piled up just didn't matter to him. scratching his ballsack and watching the latest episode of bait car was much more important. however, i will say that my kids were happy and they had fun with their dad. he even helped ella build a tent over her bed with a...table cloth, she was thrilled. (that's a win in my book.)

although we actually had a sitter to watch our cherubs last weekend (so that we could both attend a funeral), my youngest came home from the sitter on friday with a high fever. alas, after a week, she caught the freak virus that her sister had the previous weekend. (par for the course.) i felt awful leaving her (in a hannibal lecter state) with someone else, so butch bucked up and decided to stay home with them. (i made him believe it was his idea.) even when you have things planned out, kids are perpetual monkey wrenches. i swear from the time they are born, they find a way to screw your shit up. (they love doing this.) so we have been dealing with fevers, sickness, and now a bout of bronchitis for the past 2 weeks. i haven't slept in alotta nights. (i'm spent.) after i changed the kids out of their clown costumes and gave them their first bath in a coupla days...i knew that one or both of them would probably be up in the middle of the night. (they were. both of them.) i ended up having to call off of work on monday because carrie was just so miserable. when i went in to get her on monday morning (after being up multiple times)...she looked like a train hit her. actually, she looked exactly like i felt. (her hair was AWESOME.) i ran right back out of the room to grab my phone to take a picture. as you can tell, she was not amused at all by my need to capture this kodak moment. (it makes me laugh every time i look at it.)

the week went on without incident, however my husband has been getting hyper about a few things that i would like to bring to your attention. first of all, he joined this "dollar shave club" a few months ago in an attempt to save (more) money. this "club" sends you razors each month and you pay like a dollar for them to be delivered. he was super pumped when he first signed up and shared his excitement with everyone. (a dollar! it's only a dollar!) however, he told me this week that i am going through the razors way too fast and i needed to stop switching them out so much. i was like, "listen, buddy...i have a lot more landscape to cover than you. if you don't want me to look like sasquatch's sister do not (under any circumstances) reprimand my razor usage." he replied, "well i skipped a delivery this month in order to save MORE money...i saved $1.27 by skipping!" (oh sweet jesus.) then this morning he sauntered shirtless into the bathroom and stood next to me while i was brushing my teeth. (i stared at him.) he said, "so i think i need to join the gym for like two months to work on my "beach body." i shit you not..i choked on my toothpaste as i stifled my laughter. i said, "your WHAT?!" he went on, grabbing his sides..."well what are these!?" i said, "those would be what we call "love handles." he said, "well i don't love them...oh, and i had to buy size 38 shorts the other day. i forgot to tell you that." this whole conversation amused me because a few days prior i came home from a run and he was eating a TRIPLE cheeseburger from wendy's. he leaned over and asked me if i wanted a bite while the sweat was pouring down my face. (i'll pass.)

so now that the weather has warmed up, warren wants to workout. (awesome.) i told him that with all the money he is saving with the razor club, he should have enough for a gym membership. deep down, i know this is an awful idea because he will use it like 3 times and then never again...but i'll just let mr. love handle learn this lesson for himself. when he goes back to the lazy boy and bait car routine, all will be well in the world. it's been a rough coupla weeks in our household, but we are trying to grin and bear through it all. i try to hold onto the statement, "this too shall pass." i'm completely exhausted and hope that this weekend is a relaxing one. however, i'm sure my two little monkey wrenches will find some way to mess this up. i'd bet a paycheck that either one of them is going to flip the script and wreak havoc on the weekend. both are celebrating birthday's in the next couple of days...carrie will turn two tomorrow and ella will turn four next monday. i don't know where the hell that time went. i feel like they went from helpless babies to capable circus clowns in no time flat. i will continue to be a mommy multitasker, as warren still strives in ridiculous ways to save us money. i will definitely keep you posted on his quest to get his body ready for the beach...my guess it will be one triple cheeseburger at a time. (guaranteed he as a coupon for each and every one of them.) when life hands you lemons (or lemon print shirts for that matter), take a tip from my toddlers: pair them with a plaid skirt, polka dot socks, and mismatched plastic princess heels...then parade around with your sister and act as if you rule the world. later on, relax under your tablecloth tent...and realize that tomorrow is another day to start again.

sick

so ella has been sick the past couple of days. as you can see, she's been handling it really well. i've said it before and i'll say it again...sick kids are the absolute worst. not only do you never, ever want to see your child in pain, but then on top of that...you have to take care of them. (double whammy.) after three days of a fever, i took her to the minute clinic to get a strep test. at this point, you are almost hoping it is something "treatable" (with antibiotics) and not some freak virus that has to "run it's course." guess which one she has this time? yep...the freak virus. do you know what i wanna do when the doctor states, "it's a virus and it just has to run it's course." i wanna rip the medical certificate off of the wall, shred it into a million pieces, and light it on fire. then, i want to sit back and roast marshmallows over the flame and ask the good doctor how long this "course" is going to take...cause i need some sleep you quack bastard. ok, that's harsh...i know there are freak viruses out there, but lack of sleep will turn you into a goddamn lunatic. (a medical certificate marshmallow roasting lunatic.) not only will the sickness turn your toddler into a mini hannibal lecter, the lack of sleep will turn you into a shell of your former self. i shit you not, if ella could've eaten my liver with a side of fava beans during some of her outrages the past couple of days, she would've. (she was nuts.)

i mean, i get it. they don't really understand what is happening to them. (little ones that is.) they just know they feel like hell and want to feel better. in the midst of one of her meltdowns she threw her hands up in the air and yelled, "whyyy is this HAPPENING to ME!? whyyyy!?" (i had to hold back a laugh.) i felt awful for her, but the drama was a bit much. butch often states she gets her dramatic antics from me...but i beg to differ. i've seen this man when he is sick, and they mirror each other. if you haven't read my post entitled "oscar" you should. i went to the ER with him one time for a stomach bug and pretty sure he thought he had the bubonic plague. even as i was preparing to fire two kids out of my lady parts and into the real world...i was not as dramatic as he was during that instance. (for real.) anyway, in between her crying jags (when the medicine quieted her fever)...she acted totally normal. in fact, she woke me up on sunday morning dressed in full princess garb. she whacked me with her magic wand at, like, ass o'clock and said, "it's time to get up mommy! it's light outside!" i rolled over and said, "it's sunday...it's too early to be awake and too early for pink dresses, girlfriend." i snapped her picture and off she went to kiss frogs and turn them into princes or some shit. at this age, she loves to dress up and play pretend...and i truly love her imagination, but at 6am it's sometimes hard to embrace.

5:53am

so i'm staring down night four of no sleep...alas the drama not only goes on throughout the day, but creeps into the wee hours of the morning in the form of bad dreams and belly aches. i have no idea how long it's going to take this virus to "run it's course," but i'm hoping we are at the tail end of it's tornado-like terror. i also want to state that sometimes it may come across as if i am ignorant to the bigger picture...i assure you i am not. sure, i like to bring to the forefront the daily stuff that infects our lives and makes us crazy (like sick kids), but i know these plights are peanuts in the game of life. yes, sick toddlers are pretty horrific...but losing a young hero is far more horrible. in the next few days i am forced to say goodbye to a fallen soldier and very close family friend. he is now a hero in the hearts of many. the thing i loved most about him was his ability make the best of every situation and his willingness to laugh along the way. he lived this way from childhood to adulthood and we shared many, many laughs together over the years. he was a good son, fabulous friend, brave soldier, devoted brother, and honored husband. he is gone from this earth, but certainly will never be forgotten. sometimes when things like this happen, it makes you question, well...everything. all i know is, as i lay mini hannibal lecter and her sister down to bed tonight...they are safer because of fellow americans such as my friend, who are willing to sacrifice themselves and serve their country selflessly. for that, i am eternally grateful.