Computer Troubles

my mac is down. really down. Hubba Hubba has promised to get it fixed for my birthday.
In the meantime, I'm spending time with The Boys, working, getting my new company car (very cool Subaru Legacy), going to school, and skipping therapist appts. :)

Just an update, I have cancelled all appts for the forseeable future with the PhD. After much discussion, I've decided that I struggle with enough "mommy guilt" and I certainly don't need anything added to it. I feel that if there was something to be gained and it would benefit Sweet Center, then I would certainly subject myself to it. Fortunately, someone brought up a really good point regarding therapists. She said that if this guy really thought I had issues that needed to be addressed then as a responsible therapist he should have referred me to someone else outside of our sessions with Sweet Center. Since he didn't do that, and he even reminded me to call my insurance company prior to my visit to make sure of payment, then perhaps I should really look at his motive. I can't read his mind and I can only go off of what/how Hubba Hubba and I feel about this.

For now, we are focusing on Sweet Center and making sure that all is right in his world. He's actually discovered a love for football!! His nickname is "Sticky" b/c he's such a great receiver. He wants to play next year and there are plenty of dads around here who will help him get caught up on his skills so that he's on par with the other boys for next season. It's gonna be fun to watch! :)

On Monday I'm taking them to the State Fair. If you don't live in Texas then you may not be aware of what a huge thing this whole Fair thing is. The kids get the day off of school just so that they can go. It's just going to be me, Sweet Center, and Sir Toots. I'm contemplating a leash for Sir Toots. I'm kidding. We'll have fun and get to eat all sorts of fried things. I believe the new thing this year is Fried Coke. If it's Diet Coke, then I'm all over it!
I'll let you know how it goes. And I will be back to my regularly scheduled posting sometime this week after my mac is back on it's feet again.

We're dogsitting for my mother....

Me: Pepper! Jack! Pepper! Get back here, you two!
Hubba Hubba: Man, we've got cheese for dogs. That's funny.

Look in the mirror and repeat after me...

I am not a bad mother. I am not a bad mother.

Remember the therapist that I mentioned we were taking Sweet Center to see for some general unhappiness? Well, yesterday's session was so not a good one for me. It was my turn to sit and talk one-on-one and this man has the audacity to question my mothering skills. Like perhaps there are deeper issues going on with Sweet Center that we haven't even thought of and perhaps, maybe, it could be my fault.

We have determined that there isn't anything sinister like true depression really going on. Actually Hubba Hubba and I have been talking with Sweet Center on our own and we think that the kid is just bored, of all things! Evidently we haven't taught him how to use the word 'bored' properly and he thinks that anytime he doesn't know what to do with himself then he gets "this funny feeling". I will admit to knowing that the whole bored feeling is fairly similar to feeling a little restless and I can understand the confusion for a nine year old. So, our discussions at home are going well and we've found some things to do to keep him challenged and really engaged. Things like learning to focus on his drawing (with the special pencils and paper- there's always gotta be an incentive!) and working on his reading and spelling. Things that normal people do to pass the time. It doesn't have to be electronic, we've told him. The good news is that it's working and he's really enjoying himself. We've had no real issues in the past week since we sat down and really talked about just being bored and what it means.

Okay, I am the first person to sign up for therapy if I think it will be beneficial. I don't mind sitting on the couch if it will help a situation. As for being a mom, I will admit to struggling in the beginning. I was in no way prepared to take care of another human at 21. Fortunately, I had Hubba Hubba, who was a natural, and he helped me get the hang of the whole parenting thing. My struggle was minor and the issues were just general, they were in no way detrimental to Sweet Center's well being. Over the last nine years, I have worked my ass off to get this right. As a matter of fact, we ended up in this guys office because I wanted to make sure that we handled this whole issue right with Sweet Center.

So, yesterday I'm sitting in the office and as we talk this PhD (who I had really liked up to this point) looks at me and ask if I would be willing to come in on my own. "Your son interacts with your husband in ways that he finds enjoyable. Your interactions are different. Why is that? How does next Thurs at 3pm sound to you to really discuss?" Well, hell I wanted to say, my interactions aren't bad with him. They just aren't as much fun to him as playing video games with dad. Also, could it be because it's just his age? I don't think it's a bad thing that he connects with his father like he does. I really believe the world needs more men like Hubba Hubba. Men that are caring and tuned in to their children. Anyway, I get some serious love from this kid. I know we have a good relationship.
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I believe I'm getting off track and defending myself to the Internet. Man, the Internet Court is a hard mistress. You want to share the fun stories, and then you find that you can't ignore the serious stuff either. It's fun in the beginning and then you realize that it's just like any other old relationship, fraught with stress and drama.
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So, anyway, the encouraging news is that after I overcame my shock I was able to talk to Hubba Hubba. After he overcame his shock , he looked me straight in the eye and said, "You are a great mother. Evidently this guy hasn't been paying attention to our family dynamic, otherwise he would see how Sweet Center interacts with you." But, I wanted to shout, he's the expert! What if he's seeing something that we don't? What if I'm damaging my kid and don't even know it?!? "Cancel, cancel now- we are NOT going back to see him. He's not doing this to you" Hubba Hubba said. (I told you he was great- that's why I keep him.)

And I have to say that, Sweet Center answered my doubts a short while later when were packing it up from being outside playing with all the neighborhood kids. As we walked up the sidewalk home, he reached over and grabbed my hand. In a very casual way, he tucked his hand into mine. His almost-man-but-yet-still-a-boy-hand with all it's cracking skin and rough edges, just tucked into mine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And I realized, between Sweet Center and I, it really is.

Seriously?!?! (Grey's Anatomy-a random thoughtless posting)

He really said it! McDreamy totally told Meredith that he loved her and chose wrong when he chose to stay with Addison! Oh.My.God.

I'm a bit addicted to Grey's Anatomy. I Tivo'd the season finale b/c I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle the cliff hanger. I knew that I would have to watch it with the first episode of this season. So, I waited all summer and last night while my own McDreamy was out having drinks and a good time with coworkers, I bribed The Boys and got them to bed so that I could watch a little over 3 hours worth of Seattle Grace.

Is that like totally sad? In my defense, The Boys have been getting to bed late and I did only make them go to bed on time. Usually there is no On Time in our house. It just doesn't work that way when we are all running around trying to figure out where we are supposed to be at any given momemt. Anyway, they went to bed and I stayed up and watched and watched and yes, I even cried. Oh please don' t tell me that I am the only onewho feels this way. I mean, it will totally make me feel bad about this obsession, but nothing is totally getting me down today b/c he totally said it and now she gets to choose. Meredith gets the power back.

and. somehow, I've totally gotten my old high-school-valley-girl-speak back. I mean, seriously, that's a little too weird for me. I think I need a nap.

I always said my second husband would be cute...

He's the sweetest, kindest, most michevious groom you've ever met! He waited until after dinner and then picked a flower out of the bouquet and asked his father to "marry us, okay?" Stairway to Heaven was on the radio and the lights were turned off in the kitchen and living room. Bathroom lights stayed on, just in case the groom needed to make a midwedding run. Four year olds tend to pee quite frequently, as I'm sure you've heard.

I thought the flower was for me, but alas, it was for the groom. Sir Toots informed me that since he was the prince he got to hold the flower- between his teeth. Think Spanish bull fighter, but with a yellow daisy. He put his arm around my back and said that we must dance if we are going to get married. I wasn't aware of this new tradition, but it was a fun spin around the kitchen none the less.

Hubba Hubba held up the flashlight and officially asked Sir Toots if he would take his mommy to be his mommy for ever and ever. Sir Toots shook his head Yes and then removed the flower to lean in and kiss me. It was actually a bit more convincing then my first wedding day! :) Sweet Center served as Best Man and stood by and cheered us on.

My new name is "Princess". I tried to get the title Queen, but I was told that I married a Prince and that means I'm a Princess.

Now, after discussing our honeymoon plans (the toy room is getting top votes, right now) I'm sitting here letting him draw all over my legs with the pen he stole out of my purse. I figure that I have to sacrifice for the good of the new marriage. It's a fragile thing and must be properly cherished. I won't analyze that I married a man and the first thing he did was go for my purse.

So, I'm taking Sir Toots to be my Sir Toots for ever and ever. We have matching wedding tattoos to prove it.

No gifts, please. Knowing that you smile and that you too cherish our love is enough of a present for us.

An All-the-Way-Around Hug

Definition:

Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): wrap around hug; circumference hug·ging
Etymology: strongly of DeRusha origin; akin to a routine hugga in a circle or circumference but more intense: to soothe completely in a round way
1 : to press tightly and completely so that the arms meet in back while comforting another.
2: the most complete way to show true affection or adoration. usually accompanied by a wet kiss to the cheek.

My "Mother of The Year" badge is around here somewhere

Sweet Center has the sickness now. Our pediatricians office is the greatest and they got us in right away to wipe it out with some killer antibiotics. Poor kid. Yesterday was a not so good day for him. They got off to a late start and he was late to school. Then I got the call from the Asst. Principal, who notifiied me that if he is late 10 times in a school year, Hubba Hubba and I have to go before a judge and explain why we feel like being a hindrance to our kid's education. The next call was the school nurse letting me know that the child I sent to school that morning was sick. Really sick. Not just in the way that he's jealous that his brother gets to stay home and watch cartoons and isn't is his turn sick? This kid is really sick. Come get him, you moron.

This feeling of parental inadequacy started a few weeks ago. Sweet Center has been having some problems in school and at home. He truly is the greatest kid. I know every mother feels this way, but he really is! He has this great habit of wanting to do the right thing. His heart is huge and he (tries to) think of others. Unfortunately, lately he has struggled with some general sadness. Hubba Hubba and I sat down with him to talk about it. I believe Sweet Centers words were, "I just feel funny inside. Like I'm sad inside." This feeling started shortly after we put his beloved Lab to sleep. We really had no choice and it was a hard decision, but one that had to be made. Sweet Center has kept the dogs tags and wants to frame them. My heart breaks even thinking about the look on his face as he said this. I can't breathe when I think about it. My response was to talk to a specialist. In no way do I want Sweet Center to feel this way. I want him to have complete faith in his ability to deal with anything that life throws at him.
So, the therapist is a nice man. He reminds us of Santa Claus. White beard, twinkle in his eye. The whole tender bit. We like him.

Well, the last visit it was just me and Sweet Center. We spent the time talking about what Sweet Center likes to do to fill his time. What's a normal day like? Well, there's no TV or video games on school nights. But, somehow it appeared that all the kid does is spend his time plugged into something electronic. The one bright spot is his bedtime ritual, which resolves around Hubba Hubba reading to him. Saturday mornings are full of the two of them playing video games. It's their bonding time. I don't get it, I have no coordination in handling the little control and playing the game at the same time. Likewise my involvement in the reading time. I seem to be a hindrance to the actual reading part. It could because I'm trying to keep Sir Toots occupied while they read. Or it could just be because I keep thinking of the dishes and laundry that aren't getting themselves clean. I can't just lay there, for goodness sake! There are things to get done!

Anyway, the sweet therapist (whom, I really truly do like- did I mention that?) looks at me and ask what I do. What's my interaction consist of with Sweet Center? Well, geez, we play, I promise. We run around outside like crazy banshees and toss balls and draw on the sidewalk with chalk and ride scooters to terrorize the neighbors. Evidently this doesn't cut it for Sweet Center. His discussion centered around playing with his father. His father, who wasn't there to back me up. His father, who would assure the kindly man that I am a good mother. That I love my son with every single frickin' fiber of my being. Actually, Sweet Center did give me that. He did say that he knew I loved him.

But, see I'm MOM, I wanted to shout. I have to do the really important stuff.
Is your homework complete? Have you taken your medicine? Your allergies aren't going away of their own free will, you know. Have you brushed your teeth? Has your hair been cleaned sometime in the last week? Are those clean socks? and underwear? Please, put on clean socks and underwear. You never know could happen out there. You need clean socks and underwear. Oh, and honey, is your hamster still even alive? Does he have fresh water?

As I'm sitting there thinking these things, I realize that it's not about what I do or don't do. It's about Sweet Center. It's about making sure he is okay. It's making sure that he doesn't feel sad. It's about developing behavorial habits that will ensure he feels confident in himself and his abilities. I don't care if I ever win a badge for my duties. Being recognized for service to man and country isn't in my job description. The only thing that counts is whether or not my kid utterly and truly knows he is loved. Badge or no badge, as long as Sweet Center knows the really important stuff, then it's okay. Even if he does leave the house in dirty underwear.

Love is...

1) Running through Walgreen's, shoving people out of the way, so that a 4 year old can throw up in the bathroom and not in the middle of the toy aisle.

2) Retrieving the correct fork at the request (nay, demand!) of the same child so that he may eat his waffles the way God intended.

3) Jumping out of the shower at the sound of a bloodcurling scream coming from the living room where said child is watching a movie, only to discover that the blanket has dislodged itself and needs to be placed back on top of his prone body laying 30 inches away.

4) Running upstairs at the sound of "MAMA!" so that the special cup may be picked up and handed it to a deeply thirsty sick child who seems to have lost all ability to reach his nightstand.

5) Kissing the feverish brow of a sweet little boy as his body shakes and then says that he doesn't feel sick and he really needs to "partricipate" in soccer practice.

6) The precious sound of Sir Toots husky voice as he tells me that he "weally wuvs me a wot."

oh Pumpkin, Mama loves you, too.

You put your right arm in....

Riding in the car yesterday talking to The Boys. A sweet neighbor was kind enough to give us tickets to a major league baskeball game for yesterday afternoon. How swell is baseball on a Sunday afternoon?!? Sweet Center went to her house to pick the tickets up.
Side Note: I have this fear that my children will, God forbid, forget to appropriately thank someone when I'm not around. This fear ranks right up there with worrying that, thanks to current White House policy, my grandchildren will not get to enjoy public parks or something.
Anyway, I asked just to make sure that Sweet Center showed his appreciation when he was given the tickets. He grunted in the affirmative and kept playing his gameboy.
Well, Sir Toots joins in the conversation by asking,"Did you raise your hand? Huh? Did you raise your hand before you talked to her?"

I wanted to start singing: Do the Hokey-Pokey. You put your right arm in and you shake it all about....

I guess Hubba Hubba and I have beaten that horse to death, huh? The good news is that it's actually working at school! We've gotten two good reports on his behavior since we started the whole raise-your-hand-to-make-sure-it's-okay-to-talk ritual.

And really, That's What It's All About!!

Succumbing to self pity

Merriam Webster: SUCCUMB
to be brought to an end (as death) by the effect of destructive or disruptive forces. Synonym: to Yield

For the last 6 days I have suffered, and I truly mean SUFFERED, from strep throat. (**WARNING: strong visual coming up!**)The icky lining on my throat went away on day 3, but the lovely antibiotics brought on vomiting and diarrhea from hell during day 2. I do not believe that I have watched so much go in and come out so quickly in my entire life. Poor little me couldn't even drink a Diet Coke at the baseball game on Sunday. And really, if a girl can't enjoy her Diet Coke outside in the summer sun at the ballpark, then tell me what is the point of living?

Poor Hubba hubba has slept beside Grumpy Bitch and then actually had to interact with her during the long weekend. At least last week he was able to escape to work. On Thursday we had a phone call that went something like this:
me: (small voice) help
HH: Who's there
me: Why is the toilet taunting me?
HH: Sweetie, take some medicine and go to bed
This last line was punctuated by a prolonged sigh and then: I have to go.....uhm...to a meeting, yea, I have to be in a meeting for the rest of the afternoon. See you tonight!

So, I was left to myself. Just me and The Golden Girls on Lifetime.

blog and the everyday life

okay, so since I started blogging and putting it all there I have found myself at random times in the day thinking of how I would present something to the Internet. I want this to be a kind of record for The Boys. I'm not sure when this will come in handy, but the theory is a work in progress so go with me here. I figure that as I learn things then I can blog it and then they will know the thought process behind it.

For example, Sweet Center is really struggling in school. He's having a hard time staying quiet and keeping on task. Well, helloo! He is my son, so I guess that explains some of it, but really I'm getting a bit tired of the daily updates that he just isn't doing the right thing at the right time. We finally had to intiate the whole 'raise-your-hand-when-you-want-to-talk-so-your-teacher-can-tell-you-if-it's-okay-to-do-so-at-this-particular-time' practice. Again, another work in progress. The poor kid has been moved twice now and he still can't seem to keep it together. Hubba Hubba and I do the hand raising thing during reading time at the end of the day, otherwise we wouldn't get anything read. We'll see if this works over the next couple of days. He has a very sweet teacher who is keeping us updated on his progress, so the instant feedback is nice. But, man oh man, I would so love a day without a phone call.

okay, Sweet Center? We aren't doing this to be meanies. We aren't out to make life unfun. We really love you and want you get the most out of school. (After all, we pay out the wazoo for the mortgage so you are in a good school district). I know it's super hard to foucs sometimes, but really is it worth having to talk about all your talking?

Anyway, back to your regularaly scheduled programming. Cute story, Sir Toots has started talking about himself and Sweet Center as "The Boys". He will say, 'The Boys want to watch cartoons'. Evidently they have now become third person. And yes, I have started saving for their future therapy. Why do you ask?

The 3-2 theory

Or as I like to call it, a Working Mother's Philosophy.
The idea is that a woman can do 3 things, but only 2 of them really well at any given time. I believe it's what we call a "juggling act" in this play of life. So, I have 3 roles to perfect at any given time.
1) Wife and Mother 2) Worker 3) Student

Hubba Hubba is aware that Wife used to be it's own role. Now, with school added into the mix, he gets lumped in with the boys. He's okay with it. As long as it's temporary. Besides, he gets the option to yell "SAN ANTONIO!" Which basically means that he feels neglected and I need to put something on the back burner and go away with him like a very memorable trip we once took sans The Boys. San Antonio is our key word to each other that we need to reconnect. It means to me that I have to refocus on him and put something else aside. Even if it just means that we hang on the couch wrapped around each other like two little monkeys. For him, it means that the video controller has to be turned off and he has to look at me for at least 20 minutes of conversation. Boy, he loves that! But, it's worth it. Because if Hubba Hubba and I aren't right then all the other roles suffer.

As for Mom, Worker, and Student roles, I have to just try and balance it out as the moment arrives. This evening we spent in the sandbox making Feet Castles and then dancing as The Boys took turns in the shower. It was too fun to watch Sir Toots play air guitar and have Sweet Center do a dance a la Britney Spears in the water. It was a sight! Work will wait until they go to bed. And school will wait until work is accomplished tomorrow. See, it's a juggling act. Which fire is burning and what needs immediate attention.

Mom role is the most imporant of the three, of course. See, the boys don't have a phrase like 'San Antonio'. They just look at me and ask to play. I have to decide if what I'm doing is worth making them wait. Sometimes it is, like when I'm on a conference call and other people expect me to have semi intelligent things to say. I can't very well toss the football and answer questions that will justify my salary at the same time. But, when I'm answering email, then I will leave it and go make some memories.

My mother in law told me once,'They won't remember the dirty dishes in the sink, but they will remember if you played with them or not'. I think going with the 3-2 Working Mother's Philosophy means that they won't remember whether it was a work thing or a school thing, they'll just remember that I spent time with them when it counted.
So, excuse me, I'm off to hear about Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. Everything else will have to wait.

morning

Me: Come on, Sweetie, we have to get ready for school.
Sir Toots: Silence
Me: Come on, Hon, don't you want to see your friends?
Sir Toots: Mommy, lay here with me....
Me: (a little sterner) Sweetheart, it's getting late and mommy has to be at a meeting in a little bit. Let's go.
Sir Toots: But Mom, sometimes in the morning I just need some Wuvin' (LOVING)

Can you blame me for being a few minutes late to my meeting?

PreK and Lice

So I'm dropping off Sir Toots a Lot this morning and there's this HUGE sign that screams "LICE!" on the door that leads into his classroom. Gah, I'm so freaked right now. I did NOT want to leave him, but as Hubba Hubba said, 'if he was going to have them, he'd have them by now.' This before the teacher tells me it takes 6 days for new eggs to hatch. uuuhhhhooohhhhh.
I'm itching and trying not to think about what poor Sir Toots is hatching on top of his sweet little head. We don't need lice. We have dust mites and dust bunnies to keep us company. Lice really wouldn't like us. I know there's a movement to bring these vile creatures into the mainstream and take away the stigma, but good god, I can't get over the icky feeling.

Please God, no lice, I promise to be good forever and ever. Amen.

UPDATE:
Only one little child had lice. he was sick on Monday morning and when his mom took him to the pedi they found the lice. Okay, how sad is it that this little boy had lice, but his mom didn't know until his pedi pointed it out to her?!? Well, the good news is that no one else has it and the infected one was only at school for an hour before he left to go to the doctor. Fingers crossed that my prayer was answered and we won't get lice. :) Say a prayer for me. And please let me know that you said a quickie. I'm sure God won't mind. He's cool like that.

Ask not for whom the school bell tolls...

It tolls for me! I started on my master's tonight. After talking about it for frickin' ever I finally got my stuffing together and got accepted into a real program. Imagine that, the great university thinks I'm teachable. I have to admit it, I snicker at their naive willingness to open the great halls of education, but Look Out Baby, Here I Come! My first class and I didn't have my book!
Oh well, plenty of time to get those 300+ pages read by next Tues. No problem, right. I can fit it in between loads of laundry and work and getting the boys off to school and getting Sir Toots a Lot to soccer and fixing dinner and making sure Pep is fed. Oh yes, as I told Hubba Hubba when we really discussed school, I have time to do this. Just as soon as I'm done vacuuming the living room.

A year ago today....

I was recovering from a horrendous over exposure to Paxil. Hmmm...I wonder what made that sweet NP think that I should be on the highest dose known to man? Could it have been my hysterical crying while wearing a paper napkin on that cold little bed? Well, I would have thought that a somewhat smaller dose would have been sufficient in dealing with the anxiety. I think that maybe telling her that I wanted to plant the front end of my car into a tree might have been the cherry on top that sealed the deal.

I have suffered from sort of anxiety/depression for years. Lovely Hubba Hubba is usually the one who holds me close and tells me that tomorrow will be a better day. Unfortunately that wasn't working this time. So I went to see the ever helpful practitioner.

I remember joking with Hubba Hubba when I got my RX filled that if I flipped out and went over the edge that we could thank the FDA for requiring the little black box on the packaging as a warning. It's the Surgeon General's Warning for crazy people.

Two weeks later I realized how desperately unhappy I was. Not like before though. Nothing at all like before. This was despair so severe that I didn't even want to think about pushing through to get better. I felt so empty. I just wanted to sit down and not move ever again. My support group was phenomenal. I remember talking with Mom, but I don't remember the conversation. I know she asked about The Boys and told me that I needed to go get them. The thought was that I would be safe if I kept them within arms reach. I couldn't bear seeing them or rather, having them see me like this. I did though. I had too. Because she was right. I knew looking at them that I couldn't do anything to myself while they were around. No matter the blackness, I had to hold on. She called Hubba Hubba and told him to GET HOME NOW. Then she put my sister on alert.

By 3am I had escalated and developed the most severe panic attack. I couldn't even bear to close my eyes. I kept thinking that if I did then I would lose The Boys. I couldn't leave them and so my solution was to just not sleep. or breathe. Rational thinking was not possible. Hubba Hubba held me tight and called my sister. She is the most amazing selfless person who just happens to be a truly phenomenal nurse. She drove me to the ER and explained to the doctor in words that buzzed by me that I wasn't well and that I needed help. I was admitted to what I now refer to as "The Nutward". There's a whole story there, but that's for another day.

Today, I celebrate making it through the blackness. I celebrate my family for being there for me when I couldn't take care of myself. And I thank my mother- in- law for the wonderful assortment of nuts to celebrate my homecoming. :)
I am reminded that nothing is beyond Hope. Today, one year later, I hold my boys extra tight and kiss their heads and silently thank them for giving me a reason to get up and move when I didn't feel I could.

Rejection in the Third Grade

There's a table in the cafetorium (you know, a cafeteria and an auditorium all in one...like magic!) with a sad little woman sitting there and she's wondering why she bothered to shower and pull herself together this morning. I think it had something to do with being asked like 50 times if she would please, please come have lunch today. School started on Monday and Sweet Center's birthday was Thursday. Well, Mommy was busy with work and making money to buy shoes and other frivolous things and couldn't make it on Thursday so it would have to be Friday.
The line to the cafetorium was being organized and Sweet Center was right in the middle of the hub. Mommy got left behind but figured that it would be okay once all the small little people were given food and their gold coins for dessert. The special table awaited! The one where stay at home parents get to sit with their golden children and celebrate that they are able to come eat lunch whenver they damn well feel like it, thank you very much. Unfortunately, Sweet Center decided that he was a bit embarrased that Mom was there and didn't know what to do with her. He looked up and went, "Huh, you really came. Now what?" We sat at the regular table and he didn't even want to talk or tell me about his friends. Rejection. Man, what a bitch at any age.
He's growing up and it makes me so sad. I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of this whole 'being a mom' thing and now he's ready to kick me to the curb. I figured I had a good year or two left in me.

Anyway, in honor of Sweet Center's 9th birthday we had 3 other boys in our home last night. There were legs and arms and laughs in every direction. Sir Toots a Lot had to sleep on the floor in his room, just like the big boys. Snacks and movies and video games ruled the night. It was a fun study in chaos. Much better than lunch time.

okay, I wanted this whole big ridiculous party for our 10th anniv and Hubba Hubba, being the normal sane one in this coupling, suggestsed that we spend the $ on the house and just have our close friends and loved ones come here to celebrate with us. See he appealed to my vanity, I want people to enjoy my house and feel happy when they come here. Unfortunately, I live with four men. One handsome husband, two rambunctious little boys, and a shih tzu. yep, all men. So keeping this house up, running and clean is no easy task. Decorating would be nice and Hubba Hubba knew that by suggesting we put in hardwood floors and other such things that I would have to agree and not spend the dough on ONE night (emphasis his).

So, please feel free to join us on Feb 8, 2007 for our 10th anniv celebration. Please know that, as promised, a CD with songs that mean something to us will be mailed soon. I'm trying to finalize design and other such silly thigs. You would think that being married to an Interactive Guru would move this process along, but alas, I am still waiting on scans of Sweet Center when he was three. he's 9 now, people! Hopefully we won't be waiting quite that long so please just have patience and realize that things are in the works and will be sent out eventually. Or soonest. Whichever comes first.