Parenthood...

There are so many roles that a parent has to play. Sometimes it is the role of the compassionate caregiver, sometimes it is the role of the iron fisted tyrant. Sometimes it is the role of the lay-er down of rules, it is the role of friend, it is the role of listener, it is the role of mighty vanquisher of bugs and nightmares... Maid, chef, referee, nurse, diaper changing, butt wiping, snot cleaning, spill mopping, homework helping, fixer of things broken. The list goes on and on. Seriously... Then there are times when we have to play the role of the game player... I'm not talking about Chutes and Ladders, Trouble or Pictionary... I am talking about the NOT fun games. Like "Whadju DO?" or "It's going to cost me HOW MUCH?" or "It's ten o'clock at night... Why are you still up? Okay, let's see what it takes to get you to fall asleep..." or how about the ever favorite "What the HECK is that smell?" or even worse, "Where the HECK is that SMELL coming from??!??". 
Frustration ABOUND comes from wearing ALL the different hats at any given time during the day. It can change from one minute to the next. Then when there is more than one child... YEESH! "Multiple personality syndrome" doesn't even begin to cover it!
I get asked, "Four kids? How do you do it?" It's dead simple to answer really. I roll with the punches and deal. You will never find a more perfect love that's unconditional and pure. It's worth every bit of the effort you put in to it and it's damn worth it for me because I have the greatest kids on the face of the planet. Plus I have a weird sense of humor. That helps a lot too.

What the HECK possesses you to do that??!??

Kids are fun to watch... They have no qualms about a lot of things. They are dead nuts honest and will get right to the point even if it hurts. And they have the social graces of canker sores when it comes to certain things and they have NO control over the things they do sometimes... Even THEY look like they don't understand it. It's weird. They see something or are watching something and something possesses them to act and DO something. I once watched my youngest son picking his nose... He pulled himself out a winner, and looked around, couldn't find the tissues, and wiped the mess right onto the couch pillow, looked up and saw that I was watching and cried about it for half an hour. I don't know whether it was because he got caught or because he felt bad because he knew he did wrong, or a little of both, but there you have it.
My daughter poked Otis in the eye simply to see his reaction, my eldest son squished a bug that was minding its own business, my middle son dumped out his dinner on the floor because he didn't want what we were having that night...
So I ask, "What the HECK possesses you to DO THAT!" The answer is always the same... It doesn't matter which kid it is, it doesn't matter what it was that they did... It's always the same answer... "I don't know...."
Strange thing is... I believe it sometimes... Sometimes...

Dis my baby...

Way back in the day, I had a saint bernard... A gojillion pounds of fur and drool... And of course, he was about as smart as a potato.
I know... It's a picture of an otter, but doing some picture surfing, I came across this picture and it reminded me of that giant stupid, animal. I DID mention that he was a saint bernard right? Apparently, nobody told HIM that. He was in constant fear of everything. The cat, thunder, dust bunnies, geese, the garbage disposal, car horns, the dark... Oh and did I mention that if it was snowing out, he was NOT going out? Yeah... I had to set up newspaper in the garage for him to do his business... A saint bernard that was afraid of snow... He was a gentle giant and a bit soft in the head, but as soft as he was in the head, he was a thousand times more soft in the heart.
Well, the point that I wanted to come to was that he had this fleece stuffed bunny. It was (at one point in time...) a light blue. By the time he was gone, the thing was a dark gray, missing all the stuffing and it was more like a ratty pile of fluff than anything that resembled what it once was in it's full glory. I referred to it as his "baby" and he treated it as such. It went with him everywhere. He slept with it while "sucking his thumb" (he used to suck on his dew claws... Weird...), he played with it, and loved showing it to people. Only those he deemed worthy were allowed to touch his baby, although it was kind of hard pressed to get anyone to touch the drool soaked gray rag... I have several pictures of my saint, but I don't have one of him and "his baby"...
I guess the whole point of this post is really about the moments in our lives that we take for granted. I never thought that there would be a moment that I would think back to that stinky, slimy, gray rag that he held so dear and the moments that I would watch him sleeping with it while he sucked on his dew claws and thought "Awww!" It would have taken about ten seconds to grab the camera and taken the picture. It's something that is permanently ingrained in my memory, sure, but ten second of my life and this picture of the otter could have been of my saint with his woobie.
Life is short. Filling it with such trivial things instead of the moments that really DO stick with us is something of a waste. Go out and live. Life is what you make of it. Fill it with love and laughter, good music, good friends, good food and good fun... And of course the awkward moments... We need to be able to laugh at ourselves too!

The fail...

There are just certain moments when you just know. It's not just a feeling any more. You KNOW. You had already sensed it a mile away, you can see it going bad and before it strikes, you know. Pointing it out? Futile. So the only thing you can do is stand back and watch. Sometimes when you do, you will notice that you aren't the only one. It makes me feel better when there are other people there to witness the stupid. I don't feel like half the sadistic bitch that way.
This is a story, with a moral, believe it or not. I know. Since when did MY blog posts EVER have a friggin' moral... It won't happen often, I promise, so listen up! This is a story that involved a gas station attendant, some spilled fuel, a lighter and an improper way of cleaning up a spill.
I went to the gas station to get a gallon of milk. I didn't need gas, just milk. It was probably a good thing. At the same time, a young gentleman was filling up a 5 gallon gas can for his ATV. In trying to fill up the gas can, he spilled some fuel. Not a lot, but enough that there was a puddle, so like a good boy, he went to tell the attendant that there was a puddle of fuel.
Normally, at a gas station, if there is a spill, they pour some crap on it and sweep it up. THIS particular attendant believed that "burning it away" would be a better solution since there wasn't a lot of fuel... The boy and his gas can left. Quickly. Especially after the guy came out with a lighter from the display. I was in the parking lot area of the Quik-E-Mart section of the gas station. A safe distance away, but close enough to see the fun. "Maybe that's not such a good idea!" I said.
I was shocked that I wasn't called a stupid bitch this time. He simply rolled his eyes and told me not to worry.
So he set the puddle aflame... Kind of. A puddle of fuel won't burn. It's really only the surface and the fumes emitted that are really on fire. It does tend to fizzle out though... So he decided to spread the fuel around a little... With his foot... While it was still going... Near a gas pump... An active gas pump... His shoe caught fire a little which he managed to stamp out after jumping around like a cracked out weasel for a little while, and there was a streak of fire with spots here and there... Pretty. <Sigh!> I left shortly there after. I really didn't want to stick around long enough to see how things were going to progress from there. Witnessing THAT fail was enough.
Well, so the moral here is, if I'm loitering somewhere and I'm watching someone doing something with interest with a smirk on my face, more than likely, the subject of my attention is about to do something stupid. Something that I am finding vaguely to very amusing at his/ her expense and it will be funny. There just doesn't seem to be enough laughter in the world these days, so I've learned to take my laughs where I can... Oh, and you shouldn't play with lighters near gas pumps...

Cathartic moment...

I never actually realized how much anger and bitterness and resentment and negativity that I harbored until I did a serious, self-introspective, analytical assessment of myself, my life and what brought me to this moment here and now. Ouch... And DANG!
Probably one of the hardest things a person can do is turn a critical eye on one's self. It's easy to point out the flaws of others, find their shortcomings, their wrong doings. It gets a little harder when it has to be a matter of, pointing out your own flaws and wrong doings   AND saying "I was wrong for these reasons here and I'm sorry..."
I've been going back and forth with a few people via email (as they live in different parts of the country/ world). People I have come to call "friends" in the truest sense. Different walks of life, different spiritual views, different political standpoints, different careers... Apples, oranges and in one case an absolute bag of nuts. Assorted nuts. :) A healer, a spiritual leader, an activist, a terminally ill woman (May God welcome her Home with open arms.), and a warrior of sorts. Throw in a few grapes who added to or gave their two cents when it was called for as I have been taking this to a few others I've come across.
The core that makes them similar and the reason I chose them to go to with questions regarding the "path" of my own life was that they lived life like I wanted to. Not in the things that they have or the lives they have, but the lives they lead, with a strong rooted faith in something greater than themselves, the ability to be accountable for themselves and their own actions, choosing to make the world a better place by starting with themselves. Accepting the fact that only the individual can choose for themselves what they do.
It's not a matter of laying down the warrior and becoming a passive monk, so to speak. Anger can be used as a tool to fuel actions that require it, but one needs to find the proper balance or be consumed by it. The choices an individual makes as to HOW the energy gets used... That's where most of us make our mistakes. I'm guilty of it myself. Did I have the right to be angry? In some cases, damn skippy I did. In some of the cases, it was a perceptual issue on my part. A highly charged, emotional situation can quickly escalate. Who hasn't been there. But by feeding more hate and negativity to the situation, it just breeds more. (Guilty!)
There will always be those who care far too much about what others around them think about them. Their outward appearances to everybody are much more important than doing the right thing. I'd much rather know that I myself am trying to do the right thing and to hell with the people who don't know me, but will choose to judge me anyway. I matter to those I can share everything with, no matter what's going on in my life. They are those who know me and not just from the trivialities of secondhand "information".
I'd much rather know that the people I surround myself with on a personal level are those that I can rely on, share things with, those who are there should I need help (even when I don't think I need it), sharing in burdens and woes and celebrating right beside me in times of triumph. I believe there to be a far stretch between those whom I would consider friends, those whom I would consider acquaintances and then everybody else.
I cannot control the actions of others, how they feel, how they act, what they do, but I can control all of those things in myself and how I CHOOSE to handle things that come my way. Life is short. Sure I'll get shit thrown my way from time to time.That's life. And the learning process is one that won't be overnight. I go through moments of shut downs. It may be hours, it may be days. Personal introspection, self analysis and assessment. Cathartic? I guess. But this time I have been taking more positive steps forward before letting things go as opposed to just letting things go. Not an easy task.
I've accepted the fact that I'm not perfect. I never will be. I'm okay with that too. But I need to start with myself to make sure that this "better world" will start with me.

Quality time...

Although Lucky and I don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like, when we do spend time together, it is quality. The enjoying of each others company. The simple pleasure of sharing with each other. Debating the pros and cons of hummus (still yucky!) And lets face it, it can be fun to violate the snot out of each others personal space too. We talk, laugh, eat, play, sing (badly), dance (even worse), go out, stay in, live and love. We share in each others triumphs and woes and battles. We support each other when it really is a matter of one of us having to stand alone. Sometimes, it's just the two of us. Other times we share our time with friends. It may not be every day, but we're coming to find that it isn't really about the quantity as much as it is the quality. Would we like to have more of this "quality" time? Sure. Is it possible? No, but there's not much that can be done.
In the meantime, what we can do is make sure that the time we do have together is something that will fuel us and carry us to the next time. Keeping the positive a positive and moving forward. Life is short and with all that is going on in the world, I will be damned if I will have any negatives tainting and poisoning something that I hold precious and dear.

Yeah, Baby! That's it! Don't stop!

If there ever was an acceptable, public orgasmic moment...
Sometimes Lucky gets these itchie spots on his back that sneak up on him out of NOWHERE. You would think the way they pop up, someone poked him with a hot needle and made him jump up about two feet. It's cute! It's almost like what a dog looks like when they scare themselves out of a sound sleep when they fart.
So, we were walking along, when BAM! He got hit with an itchie spot from hell. It's usually right up and down the spine, a little to the left or right or one of the shoulder blades, depending... This one was particularly bad... The little itchie bit moved around a lot. I had to chase the itchie spot all over poor Lucky's back. My poor Puppy Guts looked like he just wanted to crawl out of his skin.
When I finally GOT the itchie and vanquished it with my mighty scratching powers of doom, the look on Lucky's face (You know... The initial "Oh, YEAH!", then the slack jawed, eyes rolling back in the sockets...), with the sounds he was making (OH MY GOD! OH, Oh, oh , oh, OH! YEAH! YESSSSSS! Yeh heh heh heh hessssssss! OH! WOO HOO!!!! Don't stop yet... Don't stop yet... Keep going! Keep going! Wait... Left... No, back a little more...Please! Yes... OH! BABY!) Then the goofy, post orgasmic grin...
My Honey Bunny Puppy Guts is just so gosh darn adorable and such a goof. It's awesome.

Kids and their explanation of stuff...

If you're trying to get the explanation about what happened in a situation, never ask a child. I mean, I get the whole concept of" if twenty people witnessed an event and you asked them what happened, you're going to get twenty differing answers". But if one of those twenty was a child, the answer is going to be something that may or may not jive with ANYTHING that ANYBODY said.
We once had a mouse in the house. It was two of the children who saw it. I heard them scream from the kitchen as I sat in the TV room and I rushed in to see what the commotion was about. "MOMMYMOUSEITWENTOVERTHEREITWASLIKETHISBIGITWASHUGE!" Run on sentence from hell and it sounded like it was all one word... The two of them were hugging on to one another and practically in tears as they explained what happened and described the mouse. The way I understood it, it was the size of a German shepard, it had huge fangs with blood dripping off of them, it had a crazed look in it's beady, glowing, red eyes, and this vicious animal was trying to eat them.
I caught the mouse in one of those "Have-a-Heart" traps. A standard little brown mouse, about an inch long without the tail, black eyes, shivering and scared out of its tiny little mind. I put it in one of those plastic bug carriers for the boys to take a look at after they got home from school. Well, the way they tell it, this was probably not the mouse that they saw because the one they saw was WAY bigger and much more vicious... So, watch out for gigantic, dangerous, vicious rodents. They're coming for your kids I guess...

List of stuff I want to do before I bite the big one...

A bucket list...
1.) Finish a "Where's Waldo" book and find Waldo on every page...
2.)Sell at least one item in EVERY category on Ebay...
3.) Title my book series...
4.) Have "the perfect picnic"...
5.) Meet at least one of my great grand children...
6.) Figure out how to work the Facebook thing...
7.)Drive on the Autobahn in a stolen HIGH PERFORMANCE car...
8.)I want someone to say "I love you" and mean it... Oh, wait... I already have that!
9.) Run with the bulls in Madrid.
10.) Climb Mount Fuji.
11.) I want to go to Graceland...
12.) Eat Buffalo wings until I puke... Then keep eating more Buffalo wings...
13.) Find the "perfect spot" to have my ashes scattered.
14.) Spend a weekend in bed, being catered to, pampered, spoiled and all around lazy and not because I was sick...
15.) Beat my ultimate high score in Tetris...

This one is DEFINITELY going to grow over time...

Cute, but DAMN!

There are times when I SWEAR there must be some kind of evil entity whispering in my children's ears telling them to do the things they do... And they KNOW that they're doing something wrong and you can see the "Oh SHIT!" look as they're doing it, but they do it anyway... I don't know if it's just defiance or what it is, but sometimes, I find that it's hard to keep a my "This is my serious face".
My middle son once unraveled a whole roll of toilet paper onto the floor. I caught him mid roll and he burst into tears, but didn't stop unrolling. He was wailing away and saying, "I'M SOWEEEEEEEEEEEE!" as he kept on doing it. My eldest threw things when he was having a temper tantrum and same deal. Crying and apologizing as he did it anyway. My youngest son is the "touch-er". Oh, you know...
Me: Don't touch that!
Youngest Son: Okay <Touch>
Me: I TOLD you not to touch that!
Youngest Son: <TOUCH>I'm <Sniffle> <TOUCH, TOUCH, TOUCH> <Sniffle>SORRY! <TOUCHITY, TOUCHITY, TOUCH, TOUCH, TOUCH!> <Sniffle> WAAAAAA! <TOUCH>   <pause>   <TOUCH>
And of course, there is my daughter... All of the above and then some with more drama and flair. She follows up with the hug and "I Wuboo!" with the puppy dog eyes and the well timed sniffle after she's done...
Yup... Little gremlins on their shoulders telling them to do things... It's the only explanation... At least that's what I'm going to keep telling myself in order to keep my sense of humor about all of it.  :)

My evil plot to take over the world...

It would start off with a half a pound of bacon. (Everything is better when it starts off with a half a pound of bacon!) I know, I know... Ruling the world is just asking for trouble... Power corrupts... Yada, yada. yada... But, still... Think about what I could DO! Changes that I want to see made, things that I want being done... I suppose it would take a genius to do it... And I suppose it would help if I didn't get distracted by things... And I suppose I would need like a gajillion dollars... Oh, and an army... And... Oh, hey look! A marble!
                                      

                                     ???

Wait, what? Right. Okay, so half a pound of bacon... Maybe a pound. Oooh! And some onions and garlic sauteed in the bacon fat. Adding in some nice flour coated venison medallions, baby 'bella mushrooms, celery, carrots... Salt, pepper, a sprig or two of thyme... Braise the whole concoction in a red wine reduction and throw the whole thing into the broiler for a little while... A nice big loaf of crusty on the outside, chewy on the inside bread... A nice salad of baby spinach with a balsamic vinegar and rosemary infused olive oil... A tall glass of Thai iced tea... Wait... What was I talking about? Never mind. I'm hungry...

I don't have nightmares...

It's the front I have to put on for the kids when they cry out in the middle of the night because they have a bad dream. "I'm scarier than anything you're going to come across in your nightmares." I tuck them into bed next to me and done. All better.
In giving this whole concept some thought, I came to the realization that MY nightmares are worlds different from THEIR nightmares. They dream about monsters and boogeymen and scary clowns and giant pink fuzzy things with sharp teeth... Mine have a lot more to do with the current state of the world, and sick, malicious, crazy people and a whole different KIND of thing that goes bump in the night.
I've come to the realization that I have to step up and BE the person in my children's lives who WILL be the savior no matter what the nightmare is when they are with me. I've also come to the realization that although being scared is okay, it's being able to push past it and DO SOMETHING that's going to make the difference. With my children's safety and well-being first and foremost fueling me, there isn't going to be a whole helluva lot that's going to stop me...

Pictures...

I've tried to explain in a previous post that I am not the most photogenic person in the world... Going through boxes of crap throughout the house, I came across a bunch of pictures and pictures of cave drawings from the time my pop was a little baby all being slug-like and all squishing around on the floor to recently... I discovered something rather disturbing... I inherited that goofy, retarded smile from my dad.
There is no denying the genetics... I am my father's daughter. I am the female spittin' image of my dad. If THAT wasn't bad enough... I was looking through these pictures of my dad from a million years ago and it's the same "smile" face with the same "special" quality and everything. Boxes upon boxes of pictures from forever ago to the present and in looking at some of the more recent shots, I noticed that my adorable children have sometimes adopted that same "special" looking smile. I had to laugh... At first... Then the sinking realization struck me like a ton of bricks... My adorable children have sometimes adopted that same "special" looking smile. Great!
I complained that none of the kids looked like me... I wanted them to have SOMETHING that made them look like me... I take it back now. Anything but the "Cheeeeeeeeese!" face. Please...

I question my own intelligence sometimes....

Duh.... Alright, I'll never qualify as the super genius needed to fill the role of the ultimate evil super villain , but I won't say that I'm an absolute and total moron with the intellectual capacity of a grapefruit (although I'm sure there are those who will disagree...)either, but there are times when even I will question that...
So, the other day, I had to run out to the store... No big deal. I'm a big girl. I can handle that all by myself... I get to the store, list in hand and realized I forgot my wallet... FUCK! I ran back to the house to go get it. Fine!
Back into the car, I realized I left my keys on the counter... SHIT! Get out of the car to get my keys... I get back to the store and realized that I had put the list on the counter when I picked up the keys... GAAAAH! I called my mom to have her read me the list... She can't read my chicken scratch... Great!
I did the best I could to remember all of the items on the list... I did a pretty good job, or so I thought...  I get the groceries back to the house and as I was unpacking them, mom asks, "Well, did you pick up the pickles I asked for?" No...
I read off the list, discovered a few other missing items, wrote it down on my hand and I went back to the store, without my whole entire purse this time.... Back to the house again, grabbed the purse, went to the store, picked up the items and came back to the house. Mom says to me, "Sugar! I forgot to put sugar on the list!"
I told her where to put the sugar....

If I had super powers...

Well, duh! First off, I'd wanna be able to fly. Imagine what you'd be able to do with that! Skip over the traffic, go anywhere, any time...
X-Ray vision... Well, I suppose it would have certain uses and applications, but, eh...
Ever watch Avatar: The Last Airbender? Yeah... I want to be Aang after he mastered the bending capabilities... I just think it'd be cool as all get out!
Telekinesis... Well,  COME ON! Moving shit around with your mind? Who hasn't wished for that at one point in time in their lives?
Wolverine's healing powers... I'm such a friggin' spaz, this one might be helpful to me...
Super strength would be kinda cool too. I would have helped out tons during the move!
Now, if I had all these super powers, the questions  becomes, would I be a super HERO or a super VILLAIN... Maybe a little bit of both... I guess that's why the Super Powers Commission won't let me have super powers... Dang!

I love it when...

My Lucky always complains about the way he looks. "I'm uneven!"  "I'm hairy!"   "I'm bulky!"...
I find comfort in having his hunky, warm, furry body in the bed next to me where I can snuggle up to him and sleep. I get the best nights of sleep when I have him close... Purrrrrrr! And for the record, I think my Lucky is perfect just the way he is. For reals! The only thing I would change is his location.

#(&^(#%#(&^)!!!!!!!!!

Shit,  Piss,  Cunt,  Fuck,  Cock Sucker,  Mother Fucker and Tits...
They may be seven "no-no" s, but they're more versatile than any other words in the English language. I'm just sayin'...

The "Woobies"...

I have a collection of them... Reason being? Once upon a time, they were loved. Loved to the point where over the years, they have become tattered, torn, thread bare, holey, mismatched, missing parts and pieces... Maybe they'd been patched up several times over. New parts had to be added...
They had shown loyalty like no other in a child's life. The constant companion that gave comfort without a word, were told secrets they will forever keep... I can't bear to see something like that just tossed away... (I still have mine!)
With four kids who have their own little things... Well, let's just say they'll also always have a home with me too because they brought me the comfort of knowing that for a time, they were VERY important (and still are...) to my children...

Songs that BEG for "air guitar"!

Don't even try... You've done it... I know you have. You might play, you might not play, but EVERYONE has played the air guitar at one point in their lives... Shut up. Yes you have. Come ON! There are just songs that BEG for it... Songs like:
1.)Sweet child o' Mine (Guns 'n' Roses)
2.) Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)
3.) Crazy Train (Ozzy)
4.) Thunderstruck (AC/DC)
5.) La Grange (ZZ TOP)
6.) Satch Boogie (Duh! Satriani)
7.) Land of Confusion (but the Disturbed version...)
8.)Everything Eric Clapton... "Jeez Geoff, I didn't know you liked Clapton!"   "Doesn't everybody?"
9.) Wild Thing (but the Sam Kinison version...)
10.) Play with Me (Extreme)
11.) Epic (Faith No More)
12.) Juke box Hero (Foreigner)
13.) I Stand Alone (Godsmack)
14.) Points of Authority (Linkin ParkReanimation (Dig))
15.) Cowboy (Kid Rock)
16.) Beat It (Michael Jackson ONLY because of Eddie Van Halen's guitar solo...)
17.) Enter Sandman (Metallica)
18.) Shit... Damn near everything Metallica!
19.) Side of a Bullet (Nickelback)
20.) Louie, Louie (The Kingsmen or John Belushi/ Animal House)
21.) Tom Sawyer (RUSH)
This list will grow over time...

I would've given you the fuckin' money if you had asked!

So, a few years ago, I was walking across the parking lot of a shopping center. I had one of my kids in the shopping cart and I threw my purse into the cart. It was open.... Some guy came out from behind me, dropped me onto my butt, reached into my bag and made off with about $14... My boy and I were left unharmed and that was the end of that...
I gave this whole incident some thought... Probably more than it deserved, but I did... I can understand being so desperate that you would go to any lengths to get money... At least that was my take on this guy's situation. It wasn't like he tried to rob me at gun or knife point and if he had intended to do any real harm to me or the boy, it would have been done. Hell, he could have taken the whole purse, contents and all, but he didn't. He just took the money that was sitting at the top of my open purse... (I, like some women, just throw shit into the bag and rummage through later to play hide and seek...) So I became rather MEOW! about the whole situation. If he'd of asked for the money, I probably would have given it to him. Jerk.... On the other side of that, if he had laid so much as a finger on my child, I probably would have killed him or at the very least done him severe damage. I don't get people. Me likes them less and less...

Go away! Bye-bye Mommy!

<Sigh!> My little miss independent with her "I can dooooo it my by myself!"
Whether it's picking out clothes and putting them on, getting ready for a bath, brushing her teeth, pouring milk into a cup, turning on the tv, getting into her bed, getting out of her bed or calculating this:

 

It doesn't matter. She can do it by herself and she will let everybody know it! Fine! <Sniffle!> I get it! I understand... Kinda... 

With three older brothers she is strong, she's no pansy and her will is iron. It's awesome to watch. So I let her do the thing on her own, but always stay near enough that should she need it, the help is there. It's nice to know that there are times when she still "needs" me and will run full bore at me for a hug though! Happiest of birthdays to you my sweet!

At night...

At night when everyone is asleep and all is quiet... That's probably my favorite time. I like to enjoy the little bit of peace and quiet and collect my thoughts and piece together the sanity so that I can be ready to face the morning... It's a time when I check in on the kids and they're all hunkered down and nestled into their beds and they look angelic.
Despite what may have happened or what's going on, it just doesn't seem to matter and all seems well with the world... Yeah... It's cool.

My sister...

I suppose life wouldn't have been too bad for either of us if we had been only children... In different families... On opposite sides of the world...
There's an eleven year gap between us and growing up with her as an older sister was tough. She is a sadistic bitch and the "favorite"... Any of the "games" we played usually ended with me sustaining multiple injuries by her hand and yet I got yelled at to be more careful... I'm still not sure how that worked. Oh well...
That was when I was smaller than her... I'd like to see her try any of that shit now. I'd toss her a whoopin' crammed packed with years of pent up rage and frustration... I'm sure my parents would hoot and holler at me about it, but it'd be worth it.