I missed my weekly Sunday Thanks post because I was so darn thankful to be home I fell asleep. Long weekend perhaps? Yes. Good? Uh-huh. Bad? Unfortunately, also. Ugly? Definitely more than a little.

THE GOOD:
Darling Jess-from-the-country journeyed up to the city on Friday. In fact, when I walked through the door after work I realized that the world had ceased to revolve around the sun, and was instead crazily spinning around Planet Jess. Now ya’ll know I’m a diva in my own right and I wouldn’t normally relinquish my ‘Goddess of the Universe’ tiara to just anyone, and certainly not without a hair-pullin’ fight. But, since it was Jess and we sort of go way back, I temporarily rescinded my throne. Saturday morning was spent stretched out on our respective couches, sipping coffee and gossiping. Because BabyDaddy had to work on Halloween, Jess, the Muffin, and I went back to God’s Country for Trick-or-Treating. (I’ll skip over the trip, because you’ll hear all about that later in the “Ugly” section.) My nephew was able to join us, which was awesome. The boys had a terrific time, except for the fact that I put my son’s shoes on the wrong feet. (We discovered this after we posted the pictures on Facebook – the incident was only slightly less embarrassing than when I posted a picture of the Muffin on FB with no pants.) To be fair however, I changed him into his costume in the middle of a Wendy’s while he was attempting to tag Kelt “it” and squirm away from me. I didn’t want him to get ketchup all over his bright yellow costume, and so he wasn’t wearing it during dinner. Regardless of our little left foot-right shoe blunder, it was a grand evening. The night ended, as per my as of yet unpublished (but just-as-good-as-enforceable-law) RULES OF MOMMY, with my ‘inspection’ of the candy. Hmmm. Almond Joy? Wouldn’t want you to choke on that almond my dear, I’ll just take care of that. Nerds? Much too small for you. Into the Mommy pile. Dark chocolate Hershey’s? Definitely too rich. Might give you a tummy ache, and we wouldn’t want that now would we? Aaaahhh. The joys of a late night, and slightly unethical, sugar rush. The old cliché stealing candy from a baby? That doesn’t apply – my son is almost three and I didn’t really ‘steal’ it. I merely confiscated and relocated it. Now, the tried and true, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you? Oh, blessed angels in heaven, it did. A stomach isn’t made for that kind of abuse, and mine told me so my scrunching itself into a tight little knot of painful sugar-hyped protest. It was that last package of Gummy Starbursts, I just know it. Score – Candy: 1 Tummy: 0. Viva la Rol-Aids!

THE BAD:
Fortunately, we had only a few mishaps with the boys. The Muffin nearly gave himself a concussion while trying to monitor a hatchling baby dinosaur. It was one of those grow creatures that you put in water, only this one was in an egg, and as he expanded in the water, he ‘hatched’. One of the Muffin’s favorite movies is Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs, so this whole hatching baby dinosaurs was old hat for him. We could barely get him to leave it alone. “Come OUT baby dinosaur. I NeeeeeD you. ‘Es all-wight. You should not be s’keered.” Anyway, the egg was in its bowl of water on the kitchen counter. The Muffin, in sock feet, scales the bar stool in an attempt to check on the baby one more time before church, slips, and introduces the side of his face to the edge of the counter. He actually looked a bit like “Scarface” from The Lion King, with a perfect line bisecting the right half of his face. Also in the category of ‘Bad’, after church we noticed that my nephew was starting to cough and act lethargic, with a bit of sneezing and low-grade fever thrown in on the side. Yesterday, we got word he has the flu. Both he and the Muffin had their vaccines about the same time. And both of them were all over each other the whole weekend. My juice box is your juice box -- you know the drill with kids. So far, Kelt is on Tamiflu and seems to be doing okay, and the Muffin hasn’t shown any symptoms. Yet.

THE UGLY:
The trip back to God’s Country on Saturday started out pretty smooth. The Muffin fell asleep while watching the afore-mentioned Ice Age movie for the 3,475th time, and I was rocking out my iPod. Just cruising along, with Jess behind me in her car. Then, The Hill. One of those huge, mile-long incline type deals. The road opened up to three lanes, and I eased out to pass the all-too-common rusted out farm truck. I was somewhere in the middle of “Fantasy” by Mariah Carey, singing about talking sweet and lookin’ fine, so I didn’t hear the nasty choking sound the engine was making. Then, I realized that I was going slower. Like, a lot slower. In fact, the harder I pushed on the gas, the slower I went. Not usually a good thing. Poor Jess passed me with her hands thrown up in question. I’m frantically signing back, “What-the-crap-I-have-no-freaking-idea-what’s-going-on!” (I was moving my arms quite a bit to get all that across.) God Bless Jess. Cool, calm, and collected Jess. She called me on my cell, and she convinced me to pull over at a service station where the super-nice gentleman owner came out – I guess there’s something about me in a service station parking lot with the hood popped that screams “I know nothing about cars, come save me!” So he moseys over and informs Jess and I (the Muffin was still thankfully asleep in his car seat) after a quick peek that there is no oil in my truck. Yep. That’s what I said. NO OIL. Sort of a big deal. Especially since we took the truck to some hack about 3 weeks ago for a full tune up and oil change. Thankfully, the step-daddio was able to get a trailer and come pull the sorry heap of junk home. We have been informed that we would be better off scouring the junk yards for an engine instead of trying to repair the existing one. Great. Just freaking wonderful. BabyDaddy had to drive down to God’s Country on Sunday (in my trusty Toyota – who in goodness name EVER said a Chevy was reliable? I should have stuck to my guns…) and haul us all home.

It was a looooong weekend. But we still had a lot of fun. And a lot of candy. An awful, AWFUL lot of candy. (I have been trying to pace myself after the gorging disaster on Saturday night, so be comforted.)

Sunday Thanks

I am thankful for days when I don't have to wake up to an alarm clock. I am thankful for pumpkin guts, and that they are just as much fun to play with now as they were when I was a kid. I am thankful for time spent scrunched in the Muffin's bathroom for his 'big boy bathroom makeover'. (I'll post pictures of the finished product soon!) We finally broke down when the Muffin calmly stated, "Se-we-ous-wy Mommy. Yellow duckies are for widdle boys. I a big boy now, okay?" I am thankful for the chance to see Sesame Street Live, for dancing in the aisles, and for popcorn and cotton candy. I am thankful for today.

Can you tell who we've been thinking about all week?

Ready to go!

Cotton candy in one hand, popcorn in the other...it just doesn't get much better.

Little Bee

Another 'makes-you-think' book that I had to plug. The book jacket of Little Bee reads:

"We don't want to tell you what happens in this book. Nevertheless, you need to know enough to buy it, so we will just say this: This is the story of two women. Their lives collide one fateful day, and one of them has to make a terrible choice, the kind of choice we hope you never have to face. Two years later, they meet again -- the story starts there... Once you have read it, you'll want to tell your friends about it. When you do, don't tell them what happens. The magic is how the story unfolds."

This book is fiction, but the same types of things happen to women every day in places like Nigeria, where the main character of the book is from. The writing is beautiful, but can be almost painful to read at times. However, nobody learned anything by staying in their comfort zone. I'll share a couple of excerpts that jumped out at me....and then, you should go out and get this book.

"In my village, each year when the rains stopped, the men went to the town and they brought back a projector and a diesel generator, and they tied a rope between two trees, and we watched a film on a white sheet that they hung from the rope. There was no sound, only the rumble of the generator and the shrieking of the creatures in the jungle. This is how we learned about your world. the only film we had was Top Gun and we watched it five times. It was a film about a man who had to travel everywhere very fast, sometimes on a motorbike and sometimes in an aeroplane. We discussed this, the children in my village, and we decided two things: one, that the film should be called The Man Who Was In a Great Hurry and two, that the moral of the film was that he should get up earlier so that he would not have to rush to fit everything into his day, instead of lying around with the woman with blond hair that we called The Stay-In-Bed Woman."

"Everything was happiness and singing when I was a little girl. There was plenty of time for it. We did not have to hurry. We did not have electricity or fresh water or sadness either, because none of these had been connected to our village yet. In the village that we did not yet know was built on an oil field and would soon be fought over by men in a crazy hurry to drill down to that oil. This is the trouble with all happiness -- all of it is built on top of something that men want."

"Even the missionaries had boarded up their mission. They left us with the holy books that were not worth the expense of shipping back to your country. In our village our only Bible had all of its pages missing after the forty-sixth chapter of Matthew, so that the end of our religion, as far as any of us knew, was My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? We understood that this was the end of the story."

Dark? Yes. Sad? Yes. Hopeful? Also, yes.

Congratulations are in order darlings!

I just love happy endings -- and happy beginnings are just as peachy. One of my dearest childhood friends got herself proposed to last night! There is nothing better than those first few shell-shocked "Holy-crap-did-that-really-just-happen?" days after your man pops the question. I remember feeling like one of those cheapy kaleidoscope things whose picture keeps changing as it turns, only this was my mental kaleidoscope and some sadist was dancing the salsa with it. I was clammy-panicked...then ecstatic....then disbelieving...then giggly.... And poor BD on the ground getting a crick in his leg waiting for an answer. *Sigh* The joy of those brand-spankin' new moments that open up to the rest of your life. Good stuff.

L: The best friends in life are what I like to call the 'North Star' types. These are the friends that know you inside and out. They remind you of who you are, where you came from, and can point you home when you need help finding it. You may not be able to see them or talk to them every day, but they are always there when you need them. I am lucky to have some of these North Star friends, and I am so thankful that you are one of them. You deserve the best, and I truly hope G. is up to the challenge. Welcome to the world of domesticated bliss!

Sunday Thanks

I am thankful for a warm lap dog on a cold night. (Even if said dog has ridiculously awful breath and sheds like cheap shag carpet.) I am thankful for family group hugs, which the Muffin has begun insisting on before he goes to bed, or gets in the bath, or changes clothes, or goes to the potty. One can never, EVER have enough group hugs. I am thankful for a Halloween costume that can transform a giggly, dimpled boy into a brutish, snarling super hero who leaps off to save the world, complete with face mask and realistic padded abs. I am thankful for crafts made in Sunday school. "I made 'dis for YOU Mommy! Look, 'es a flower! Did you know 'dat GAWD made 'da whole Earf? He made 'da rocks, and 'da gwass, and 'da rain....." I am thankful for the changing leaves and the smell of wood burning fireplaces. I am thankful for the Muffin's frog hat, because it never fails to make me smile. I am thankful that llama spit is not hazardous. BabyDaddy had a most unfortunate incident involving a rather grumpy alpaca at our local pumpkin patch. Suffice it to say that yes, they DO spit. (And they have bloody good aim.) I am thankful for laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. I am thankful for today.

It's finally cold enough to bring out the frog!

He's just a farm boy at heart. All anyone ever really needs is a good pedal tractor.

Okay, so it was cute at first with the kissy noises and all, but I don't think the llama was really digging on it. I tried to warn BD. He never listens.

"Seriously," I tell him. "I don't think he likes what you're doing. He looks kind of mad. You should probably leave him alone."

*SPIT*

That's BD's head off to the side there. Apparently those babies pack a punch! (Can you see all the little mushy bits of the ice cream cone full of grain that we had just fed him?)

Four years of delightful wedded bliss (most of the time anyhow...)

As many of ya'll know, BabyDaddy and I celebrated our anniversary this week. So, I thought it would be a rather good time to expound upon some of the (purely unsentimental) reasons that I love him like crazy. (And believe me: CRAZY is essential in our relationship on so many - some unhealthy - levels.)

TEN REASONS WHY BABYDADDY ROCKS

10) He pulls the chunks of my hair out of the shower drain.

9) He can do a really good "Running Man" and has taught me how to "C-Walk".


8) He lets me tweeze his eyebrows when they grow in the middle.


7) He will go to Wendy's at 10pm to get me a frosty, or McDonald's at 6am to get me a latte, or Wal-Mart at midnight because I want to play Scrabble and we don't have that game.


6) He lets me get a shower first, even though I take 20 minutes and he only needs 5.


5) He generally does all the (mostly) unreasonable things that I ask of him. Like putting down the laundry he's doing and walking carefully across the floor he just mopped to bring me a glass of water while I'm sitting on the couch less than two feet from the kitchen watching TV and flipping through a magazine...


4) He looks hot in his uniform.


3) He watched Twilight with me. TWICE. (That's sort of a big deal in Man-Land.)

2) He puts up with my raging, snarky, Diva mentality 24/7, and most of the time he acts like he likes it!

1) When there are only so many seats available in the Mule, he always volunteers to ride the bicycle...THAT'S love!

Isn't he just more than I deserve? (Okay - scratch the question. Don't answer that.)

What's the big deer? (Ahem, I mean, DEAL...)

I hate deer season. I hate the fact that my human husband morphs into a below-average-intelligence neanderthal. ME NEEDS KILL BIG BUCK. RAWR! Seriously. I'm totally surprised that my big brown eyeballs haven't popped out of my smart-mouthed little head by now. I've been rolling them THAT much.

Poor BabyDaddy. Well, heck -- poor ME!

BabyDaddy: "I just saw the BIGGEST buck when I was coming out of my tree stand tonight!"

Me: "Maybe you should just sleep in your tree stand. Then you'd never miss him!" I say.

**EYE ROLL**

BD: "Man, those bucks are tearin' the trees to smithereens! You should see the rubs they're leaving!"

Me: "Something else is going to be torn to smithereens soon. I'm thinking about your house key."

**EYE ROLL**

BD: "I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder because I just packed 893 pounds of corn (that cost just about as much dollars) three miles uphill into the woods to feed the deer so that I can shoot them and hang their dead noggins on my wall! Gosh, it hurts...."

Me: "There's a package of pees in the freezer you moron. Get to it."

**EYE ROLL**

Okay, well, I sort of edited the last one to add some dramatic flair. You understand, yes?

And the man (because it had to have been a man) that invented these blasted wildlife cameras?! He better just hope I never meet him. I've never in my life seen grown men act like such bloody idiots.

The following exchange took place last night. Picture, well, maybe not 'picture' picture, but you know what I mean, BD sitting on the couch in his camo hat, autumn woods printed socks, and tighty whities, (sorry 'bout that, but I'm trying to set the scene here) jumping up and screaming (while doing a disturbing little Riverdance-esque two step) with the lap top as he surfs through the latest offerings from his wildlife camera.

BD: "OHMIGOSHOHMIGOSHOHMIGOSH! Look at the rack on that thing! I've got to call Dad! I've got to call my brother! I've got to call my buddies!"

Me: "I've got to call my therapist," I snort.

**EYE ROLL**