Hold on; let me grab the list.

In preparing for the wonderful holiday of thankfulness I was left with no time for blogging about being thankful. Ironic, no? I jotted this down the night before Thanksgiving and I'm thinking the week before Christmas isn't too late to post it...

I have probably mentioned this before – I am a list maker. I’m not talking scribbled notes on a post-it note type of thing, either. I create color-coded, multiple category lists on excel spreadsheets for everything from grocery needs to Christmas gifts. I even have a list of other lists I need to make. (I am very much type-A). I often communicate through email in list form; last night I chatted with a friend on facebook in list form. My listing ability really knows no boundaries.
So today I will offer you multiple things for which I am thankful in the form of a list.

1. My hairdryer – because for the 15 or so minutes that I use it every morning my ears are deaf to the darlings’ pleas for snacks, or cries from one darling because the other has hit her/stolen her toy/looked at her the wrong way. For those 15 glorious minutes I am the parent of two well-behaved children who speak softly and live in perfect harmony with one another.

2. Scrubbing Bubbles – they work hard; so I don’t have to.

3. Southerners – it had to be a southerner that decided frying the turkey for Thanksgiving would work out. And work out it does. Hubby kicks some serious turkey-frying butt every year which liberates me from the hassle. (It also liberates our guests from the burnt-ness which would certainly occur if I were left in charge.)

4. Bright green foaming hand soap- because the dried remnants of it left on the bathroom counter each day is proof that my darlings are washing their hands.


Cheers!

"WHY didn't it say to SLOW DOWN?"

I am huge fan of all things Christmas and as such was thrilled when Jess invited me to attend the Holiday Pops concert with her. So, I threw on the face paint (which doesn't happen often with me) and clothes that didn't smell of young child goo and off we went.

I must say that for Jessica and I the outing was somewhat non-eventful. Usually when we are together we cannot stop talking long enough to take correct exits or turns or refrain from swerving violently after being temporarily blinded by laughter. We've even been known to skid off of a loose gravel road because our gift of gab caused us to miss the "SLOW DOWN; LOOSE GRAVEL AHEAD" sign. We cannot watch movies together, we cannot schedule "Quick" visits with one another - it's just understood that we lack the ability to shut up in each other's company.

On to the actual concert; we got there unharmed and sans any major traffic violations. The concert was wonderful; complete with a drunken elderly couple sitting next to me and a garlic-breathed man singing behind Jessica. The conductor was fabulous and certainly devoted to his craft, though I'm convinced he should take stock in Excedrin as his head bobs more violently than my car when careening off of gravel roads. But I digress.

The choir did a number that was simply breathtaking and a rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas that made me actually enjoy the song. (Come on; there's no way around it. It's just TOO long.)

All in all it was a splendid evening; and miraculously Jess and I managed to keep quiet for most of the concert.

Also, Christmas is 11 days away. Ecstasy.

I'll try to be a better blogger.

Cheers!

If looks could kill

Saturday morning Hubby and I took the girls for our annual Christmas card picture shoot. It's a daunting task; taking pictures of your own kids, especially when it's the first time the darlings have seen their father (a.k.a. their favorite human in the world) in a week.

It was apparent after 2 minutes that nothing short of duct tape would get them in a picture together, so I focused on one darling at a time.

It is no surprise that Ashlyn came through with flying colors. In fact, I ended up with about 12 good shots of her.

This pose was actually her idea -

As I've mentioned previously; Kenly is somewhat difficult when it comes to picture taking. The child REFUSES to look at the camera if and when it's in front of my face. I have approximately 5 pictures of her running away from me and 7 or so in which she is giving me "the look."

"I am NOT going to give in, Mom. I'm just not."

This particular adventure ended with me and Kenly both crying and Allen mumbling something about taking the kids by himself next year. Alas, today I am (Again) thankful for the husband and his mustering the ONE and ONLY smile out of Kenly that day and even more thankful that the Canon was on my face and my finger was at the ready when it happened. That ONE picture plus one of 12 I have to choose from of Ash will comprise our card this year. When you receive it in the mail; please take a minute and appreciate the trouble I go through to make the darned thing happen.

Cheers!

P.S. Notice the shoe in the background of Kenly's pic? That would be from her plopping down, taking her shoes off and throwing them. Before it was over the skirt was given the same treatment. I need a xanax just thinking about it all..

Oh, it's just some refried beans and Yoplait.

I'm not exactly sure what I did to deserve this:

But golly, I wouldn't trade her for a million other squeaky clean kids. I am also abundantly thankful for baby wipes given that this is the scene at my house every night. Don't get me wrong, a mess of these propprtions certainly will need a run through the bath tub, but one must slightly de-noodle before being transported from point A to point B.

I am afraid this child is going to grow up with a fear of touching things due to the nightly "NO MA'AM. DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. NOTHING. STRAIGHT TO THE BATHTUB." On second thought, no - I'm not worried about that at all. My concern lies with her hearing ability. Because no matter how loudly or how often the above is yelled at-um, I mean spoken to her in a sweet motherly way she still manages to leave bean-y, yogurt-y, ketchup-y handprints everywhere. Hmm.

Cheers!

Not a Woman of my word..

I was determined to post every day, and believe me I certainly have enough reasons to be thankful to warrant a post every day. I simply failed. But you all will forgive me. Or you won't. Whatev.
Moving along...


My darling husband is a sound sleeper. Like, I’m convinced that if I were to (one night after he’s asleep) call all of our friends, have them pile into the bedroom, fill them full of liquor and crank some heavy metal jams he would simply adjust his snoring rhythm to match the music and stay nicely tucked away in dreamland. (I may need to test this theory….)

*He's going to KILL me for posting this - it was after a day of swimming on vacation*

Over the course of our marriage his nightly nocturnal coma has created some interesting predicaments. Until recently the funniest (also scariest) incident happened when Ashlyn was a newborn. I asked him around 3 a.m. to get me a bottle and after stumbling and fumbling around for 15 minutes or so he returned with a tiny little baby bottle full of Dr. Pepper. I’m not kidding. And he was absolutely positive that I requested a bottle of Dr. Pepper. For a 2 week old.

The latest episode went like this:

*I woke up around 12:30 one night to the sound of our house alarm….I wrestle Allen to wake him*

K: Babe, wake up – the alarm is going off…. BABE! WAKE UP!

A: Oh… ok…

*Al Stumbles off… after a minute or two the alarm stops screaming. He gets back in bed with a growl *

K: Thanks, babe… did you turn the alarm back on?

A: Oh… no…

* he rolls back out of bed, again stumbles to the front door…stumbles back to bed*

K: Wow; that’s really scary – someone just tried to break in our house…

*Allen SPRINGS out of bed; grabs the baseball bat and starts looking out of the window*

A: WHAT? Someone tried to break in?? Huh??

K: That’s usually why an alarm goes off in the middle of the night. Yes, dear.

*Allen is still scouring the yard from the window; still with bat in hand*

K: Honey; it’s been 5 minutes since the alarm went off, and I’m pretty sure it scared them away at that point. Whoever it was is gone now. You can come back to bed.

Suffice it to say; I am now in charge of any midnight burglaries that take place in the McMillan household as my husband is liable to get confused and rob his own house rather than protecting it.

Even though he's like a fat momma bear in hibernation when he sleeps - I am 125 % thankful for that beautiful, hot, sexy, strong, caring, thoughtful, intelligent, supportive and hilarious man that snores loudly in the bed next to me.

Cheers!

Sir Dickens, you done me right.

A family of vampires that sparkle. A woman who leaves her negligent husband and takes her daugher across country. A friendship that spans a lifetime. A love that transcends centuries.

Books offer me an escape into another world, into an alternate reality; they provide me with profound lessons and provoking thoughts. They allow me to explore and experience life through someone else's eyes and in ways that I would otherwise never get the chance.

They, at times, make my husband angry.

"Kayla... it's 3 in the morning, turn the light OFF and go to sleep."

"But, BUUUUTT"

"Let me guess. The girl who reminds you of yourself is about to make a life changing discovery about her past while slaying magical dragons and castrating all of the male species and it's just getting to the good part so you can't possibly stop now"

"NO!, well - sort of; BUT she does it ALL while wearing pumps. She's BRILLIANT! Just ONE more chapter babe, promise.'

Although they may well cause the dissolution of my marriage; today I am thankful for books. And authors. And publishing companies. And, well you get the drift.


Cheers!

Who brought lizard girl?

This is tomorrow's post, only it's here today. But it's still the post intended for tomorrow. Got it?

Around October 12th of every year the powder keg fairy begins nightly visits to my house. This fairy must be a devout little creature, too; EVERY night I practically drench myself in lotion only to awaken EVERY morning with scales. I'm not kidding. Thank Heavens my husband is gone 5 days a week because this epidermis is rough. I'm just waiting for him to come home and use my leg to sharpen his knives. He has many of them. My husband is a hunter/gatherer.

But I digress. (You can uncrinkle your face... it's my random and decidedly unfunny humor creeping in. I can't help it.)

Ah, who cares? He did vow to love me in sickness and in health, with scaly skin and with smooth skin, right? Yup. I'm for sure that was part of the whole deal.


So today, no tomorrow, no, NO TODAY I am thankful for lotion. The lotion that I use in effort to (albeit in vain) (I almost typed vein) (which might work better) halt my progression towards becoming a reptile.

**I'm not sure if it's the wine or the late hour but in re-reading this mess I can't find one coherent thought. But I'm not rewriting it. Apologies..

Cheers!

He was afraid of this

It was late. The lights in the house were low. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, an almost empty bottle of wine. Sweet, soft music was echoing in the background and there we were. The two of us.

We knew he was coming home soon, any minute now. But it had been so long, and not even his imminent arrival would deter us from enjoying the evening we’d planned.


Just as we nestled by the fire to enjoy our succulent dessert together, we heard it. The garage door was opening; it was him. There was no time to cover our tracks. He had surely already seen the car that didn’t belong in the driveway and any second he would open the door and find us there. Like that.

And he did. He opened the door and with that crooked smile that still knocks me to my knees said "Am I interrupting somthing?" He also took a picture – I suppose for evidence.


Today I am thankful for friends who sacrifice their precious time to come and hang with me when Allen is gone. They make me feel human, they help me remember that there is more to me than being a mom and they provide me with an adult outlet - to share thoughts and hopes and stories with when Allen is miles away. This small group of miracle workers will never know how much their time and presence means to me.

**Please excuse my scariness in this picture. It was after Halloween at work and not a stitch of makeup was in sight.. it's frightening.

CHEERS!

From a song to a state of mind

We are sick all the time. No, seriously – I think I have the sickest family south of the Mason-Dixon Line, and it seems that no amount of Lysol or Clorox wipes or Purel can keep germs from invading our house and bodies and causing us days of misery. I’ve had many breakdowns; deciding that I’m an absolute failure at parenting because I cannot seem to keep my kids (or myself) healthy.

Early last week I started to feel the throat tickle; you know- the warning sign that within a day or two you’ll be laid up in bed with tissues hanging out of your swollen nose and a scarf tied around your vapo-rubbed neck while trying to pour scalding hot tea down your throat because the burn feels so good? Yeah. That one.

As the boys of Cross Canadian Ragweed so profoundly stated; I was sick and tired of being sick and tired so I fought the throat tickle. I fought it with all my might. First, I stole my kids’ orange juice. All of it. Chugged it like a teenager at a keg party. Then I grabbed the bottle of Vitamin C tablets, opened it and took one out. One?! ONE?? I turned that bottle up and let the orangey pills pour into my mouth; I was NOT going to let the throat tickle get me this time. It wouldn’t. It COULDN’T.

It worked. I didn’t get sick. For that reason; today I am thankful for Vitamin C.

Cheers!

A month of thankfulness..

I’m going to put a serious effort towards posting every day this month; each post either revolving around or at least mentioning something I’m thankful for at that moment. We’ll see how long this lasts. I’ve got money on 2 days…. Any other takers?

Today; I am thankful for toilet paper. That’s right –I’m paying homage to the sometimes quilted, always reliable, and positively pillowy soft rolls of necessity that help us all rid ourselves of sh- er, uh; that make our lives easier (and certainly cleaner.)

Cheers!

Fall Days at the Corn Maize

Don’t be jealous of my mad poetry skills.

The opening of the Corn Maize (for all of you spelling and grammar police; I AM spelling that correctly. This particular “maze” is cut from a cornfield; hence the play on words) here in Lubbock marks the beginning of my favorite time of year. The crisp air, the spices, the warm food, the snuggly blankets and nights spent at home with family; it’s the mark of fall.

A couple of weekends ago we gathered the darlings for our annual trip to the maize and per usual, a good time was had by all.

As the “cow train” pulled off I noticed a hint of panic in Allen’s eyes. “You’re afraid Kenly’s going to jump ship and get lost in the cornfield, aren’t you?” I asked. And he didn’t have to answer; because the truth is we both know. If anyone is going to climb out of a moving barrel and take off to hide in the field; it will be that precious child. We’ve got a lot of sleepless nights in our future.

Ashlyn LOVES this trampoline bungee thingamajig; and I cannot blame her. If they made one that would support me and all this backside I carry around I’d be harnessed up and bouncing before you could say milkshake

While Ashlyn was bouncing Allen and Kenly took off to play hide and seek in the trees and Kenly found a field of dirt. Right up her alley.

Sidenote: My delightful husband and I took a giant step on our journey to forever at this little corn maize 7 years ago; as this is where he proposed. A little bit redneck, you say? Indeed it was; but that’s us – sweet with a pinch of country hick.

My love affair with colons. (those of the "semi" variety at least)

I’m a huge fan of the semi-colon. I adore this little mark of punctuation; so much so that I tend to throw one in my writing at times when one is most definitely not needed. I’m beginning to think that my brain has a “haven’t used a semi-colon in a while” trigger that goes off and forces the pressing of that precious key beside the L. Perhaps in an effort to re-train my brain I’ll throw in random slashes for a month.

And now; before I face the wrath of a pregnant woman, here are a couple of pictures from Sara'a fabulous "Baby Q" shower.

The gorgeous Mommy-to-be. I happen to think she has the most adorable baby bump I've ever seen.

Two Lovely Ladies:

Two lovely ladies and a decidedly unfortunate-looking one:

Cheers!

Highway driving or the Fountain of Youth?

My dear friend Sara moved to Austin last year and a few months later got herself knocked up. So when we got word that she was having a baby shower in Roswell (her hometown) Cheyanna and I jumped at the chance to make the short trip and surprise her.

As we set out on the 3 hour drive I noticed that there was something a little different about this road trip than those of my past.


When did we cross the line from “young and carefree” to “old and dependent on medication?”


I was very unsettled at the thought of having left my carefree youth behind and in an attempt to stir some adolescent mischief I announced that I was going to- wait for it - take pictures of all of the passing cars. Yes. That was my idea of gettin’ a little crazy; snapping pictures of oncoming highway traffic with a camera. Cheyanna; on the other hand, has a wilder side and as soon as the words “take pictures of passing cars” left my mouth she was ready to up the ante.

With a glance upward at her sunroof she offered “Why don’t you hang out of the top of the car to take the picture.”

I hesitated.

After all, this was a pretty precarious endeavor. Raising myself outside of a vehicle travelling 70 miles an hour? With a pricey electronic device in hand? What if the force of motion was too strong; plucking the camera out of my grasp and slamming it to its’ death on the pavement? What if, at the sight of a hefty mad-woman acting all “papparrazzi” from the top of a car, the driver of another vehicle crashes in a panic? What if a UFO descended upon us and beamed me into outerspace?

I decided to myself “well, that’s that. It’s simply too hazardous.” Just then I saw the medicine bottles from the corner of my eye; taunting me; reminding me that my formative years were long gone and I was a pair of bifocals away from middle aged. An impish grin slowly crept upon my face and a new resolution was made.

I threw caution to the wind, waited until I saw an 18 wheeler barreling down the pavement, grabbed my camera and hoisted myself out of the car. The wind blew my hair (and apparently my saliva) mercilessly as I snapped the picture; I then turned the camera on myself to document my brazen act of silliness. I collapsed, laughing hysterically into the passenger seat a new woman. A woman who had shown those medications who was boss and defeated old age

This is the victim:

Me at 70 mph = SCARY as hell:


Look closely and you'll see the slobber.. cute huh? (I apologize for the closeness of this picture; it's pretty gruesome..)

The wind had forced tears from my eyes and there wasn’t a tissue in sight; so I did what every resourceful woman would do:

Sara, darling – don’t send yourself into early labor. I will post the pics from the shower in a day or two; promise! Also in an effort to prevent the ever sweet Sara from delivering this child before he's done baking; let me clarify that Sara has been married for a few years - I use the term "knocked up" for dramatic effect only.

Indeed, I am 2 legit.

It is utterly impossible for me to remain still in my office chair when Billie Jean is playing in my ears. Im.Poss.Ible. From the time that awesome hubby of mine presented me with my very own Ipod (which was only a couple of months ago..we’re a little behind technologically around here) my work days have been exceedingly more fun. Not that work has ever been bad; it’s just so much nicer when I have John Mayer telling me that My Body is a Wonderland, or Shakira reminding me that my Hips Don’t Lie. And if I’m having a truly bad day all I have to do is crank Michael Buble followed with a Fall Out Boy medley and life is right again.

The problem is that I am continually having to act aloof when a coworker walks by my office door in the middle of a serious head –bobbing; toe-tapping mini- jam session. I think my efforts have worked thus far and I’ve remained stealthy in my dance-capades.

What are some of your favorite tunes for jamming out? I’m always looking to expand my arsenal…

Cheers!

Is someone paying him large sums of money?

(To stay married to me; that is)

In no way, shape or form do I deserve to have Allen as a husband. It's a fact. I'm a whole hot mess and that man is still hangin' around. Later this month we'll celebrate our 6th anniversary; so I think I should devote a blog post or two entirely to the fabulousness of my man.

It's no secret that I'm a hard pill to swallow. Hell, I'm a hard pill to be in the same zip code with most days. I am high-strung, much too passionate about miniscule things, an over-reactor extraordinaire, and my OCD tendencies would drive a sane person mad. Yet Allen takes it all in stride. He handles my stress better than anyone and never seems to mind. He digs my quirks; he makes fun of them, yes - but he digs them nonetheless. I believe my family counts Allen as a saint. Had he not taken me off of their hands they would be the ones left to deal with all this insanity.

Allen is also one of the most selfLESS people I've ever encountered. He thinks of others before himself at every turn; he gives every ounce of his being to better the lives of his family and friends and he succeeds with flying colors.

I know its sickeningly cliche, but I love the way he loves me. I love that he knows me better than I know myself. I love that he takes so much time and puts so much effort in to making me happy. I love that he holds me when I need his stength, pushes me when I'm holding back, and lets me dream freely with no judgement. I love HIM. His infectious laugh, his ridiculous jokes, his giving soul and huge heart, and let us not discount that deliciously cute deriere.

Oh, and the man can grill a MEAN steak. This is absolutely key when married to a big girl..

Cheers!

Today was the perfect day. (minus a few boogers)

I adore family time. The girls are at wonderful ages; old enough to have some independence and hilarious personality and still young enough to believe Mom and Dad are the two coolest humans ever. They are so very much fun right now and while I relish every moment, my heart simultaneously aches -knowing that all too soon this childhood bliss will pass and be replaced with teenage angst.

Today is one of the days I am burning into my memory; storing it away for a time when my opinions, comforts, thoughts and very presence are repulsed and replaced with those of adolescent peers.

We started with a shopping trip to Academy so we could outfit the entire family in brand new Tech gear for football season... Then we had lunch at Logan's and Kenly didn't break anything, offend anyone, nor did she burn the joint down. She did locate the stash of napkins behind our table, blow her nose 45 times and discard the snot-filled trash into the booth next to us - but no one was sitting there so I'm not sweating that one. (I picked them all up, BTW). We came home and played in the water; complete with some wicked mud-pie making. (I must say that I am coming a LOONG way with my phobia of dirty children. I only had a mild panic attack when both girls plopped down in the middle of the mud-pit; this is progress.) The girls and I have done makeovers on one-another; Lala came by and watched a movie and ate popcorn with Ashlyn in her room, and for a solid hour we played a family game of hide-n-seek.

Also, Ashlyn explained to me (after having my makeover) that I needed to "walk like this (she then proceeded to very dramatically swing her hips) so that Daddy will notice how pretty you are and then he'll marry you." Bless her heart; she doesn't realize that the swinging of these Sonic-sized hips of mine; dramatically or otherwise, would lead to either serious injury or severe property damage.

Like I said; it was the perfect day.

Cookie Dough Blues

My severe stupidity often shocks me. Not that I find it shocking that I’m dumb; no, no – I’m well aware that intelligence isn’t exactly my thing. However there are times when I think or do something so completely and utterly dim-witted that I begin to question the contents of that space between my ears.

An example:
I recently decided to attempt a new cookie recipe, and on the eve of the experiment I shared my intentions with a few friends. This particular recipe was for “no-roll” sugar cookies and we were discussing how that meant the dough would end up a large blob from which you plucked smaller blobs to roll into small circles rather than a neatly rolled log of which you cut raw cookie slices. Fast forward to the making of said blob-dough and I begin to think about the “logs” of cookie dough you get from the grocery store. We purchase those footlong packages of heaven often around my house and the offspring and I make a huge mess with a few cookies to spare. It occurs to me that perhaps the log of pre-packaged cookie dough is meant to be sliced rather than plucked. (I know, I know… these are things I should understand by now.)

After discussing my thoughts with pretty much everyone I know I came to the conclusion that everyone slices the log. Everyone besides me, that is. There I am; pulling dollops of dough and rolling it into balls only to realize that I need more dough for the 1-inch diameter requirement, therefore forcing me to tug off another bit of dough and continue rolling-all the while having smallish dough pieces stick to my fingers and causing me to have a moral “do I lick it off and keep working and never tell those who will eat these cookies” dilemma. Had I anything besides protoplasmic goop (does that even exist?) in my noggin I might have realized much earlier that pre-made cookie dough was developed to make life easier, and as such there might be an easier way to get from log to cookie sheet. Oy.

Cheers!

Suds in the Bucket

When we woke up this morning to the already blazin' heat the girls and I decided that washing Daddy's truck would be a fun thing to do for father's day. (Or it was just a good way to get wet.. whichever..) I'm not sure Allen's truck got any cleaner; but it was a lot of fun watching the girls work on it... Then we moved to the backyard for a little pool time and a picnic.
Al is leaving for work again tomorrow but he'll be much closer to home and should be home next weekend; so my sanity should remain intact.

"We don't want to eat, we want to get back in the water..."

Cheers!

Kayla

So much to catch up on!

Yeah, yeah - all of this "I'm going to make time for the blog" talk but no action. It seems that not having Allen home was causing me to be busy. That's right - I spoke of his being gone in the PAST tense. He made it home FINALLY and has been here almost a week. I'm just now rejoining the real world as I have finally stopped staring at him long enough to do so. Gosh, we missed him! Of course (and don't tell him this) it's also been an adjustment. I've done everything alone and had the place to myself (not counting the offspring) for so long that when hubby wants to watch The Military Channel during my regularly scheduled reality TV viewing things are getting hairy. Ah well, I'll definitely take fighting with him over the remote over him being gone anyday!
There are a million things to blog about and I will get to them soon... I will also say that it is high time that the rest of my blogger friends get on the ball, too. C'mon, it's not like you people have lives to lead or children to raise (or bake, in Sara's case). Tell me what's going on in your lives already. Or just tell me a joke. Something.

Cheers

There's something about that red circle

I MISS MY HUSBAND! Allen won't be home until the end of July and I'm losing my mind without him. (Okay, okay so I didn't have much of a "mind" to begin with) He's never home during the week but for awhile now and until July he won't even be home on the weekends. Trying to keep this house clean and laundry done and kids fed while spending quality time with them and finding "me" time is becoming increasingly difficult... plus, I just MISS him. The girls miss him so much, too and comforting them takes such an emotional tole on me somedays.
I'm going to get through this though; Lala (my mom) is helping a ton and I've got great friends who are willing to give up their free time to come hang out and help me feel human every now and then. Plus, I'm choosing to stop wallowing in how much this sucks and just get through it. (Uh, that does NOT mean that when you see me you won't hear 153 times that I'm lonely, tired, need help, etc... I'm just not wallowing. Got it?)

So enough whining already, eh? Let's discuss Target. Target is seriously the most genious establishment in existance. I cannot pinpoint why, exactly; other than the sheer fact that everytime I "pop" in that place to purchase one item I walk out 2 hours later with $200.00 worth of "Oooooh, I could really use that." How do they do it? Seriously... I need an answer here.

Until next time...

I see the winds of change, but I don't even feel a breeze.

Have you ever reached a time in your life when it seems like everything around you is changing? Relationships, routines, attitudes, passions, etc? I feel like that is where I am now - everything is changing yet I haven't actively invited or implemented any of it and I sort of feel like I'm sitting in idle watching it all happen. It's very strange, and I guess it means that I need to jump on the bandwagon and get to changing some things.

Until then.. a few pictures of the darlings. The bond between these two gets stronger every day, and they love playing together. They fight too - but more often than not they are laughing and stirring up trouble together. It's fun! (Unless they've conspired to coat every standing thing in the house with vaseline. That, it turns out, is absolutely NOT fun.)

I knew I was missing something..

I have no clue why she is posed this way... I had nothing to do with it. I pull out the camera and for the next ten minutes hear "Oooh Mommy, this is beautiful, take a picture of this"... I believe I'm in big trouble with this one...

Oops. I sort-of forgot about my blog.. I'm finding that the older I get the less time I have available. I long for days of old when I would say "I'm bored; there's nothing to do" - but it seems those days are long gone and replaced with days where I don't have time bathe myself. Or the kids. Rest assured, though that I will drench us all in perfume if you want to come visit. Just don't expect me to have time to talk to you. In fact, if you do come visit please do a chore or two for me. Leave a note somewhere telling me who you are and what you did. I'll send you a thank you note.

Regarding the picture above:

Yes, I have 2 kids. No, I do not have an updated picture of the youngest. Is it because I don't love her as much? No, no - she is quite loved. She just also happens to be quite full of attitude. Anytime I pull the camera out she looks at me long enough to see that I have the flashing/clicking contraption in hand and she REFUSES to look at me again until I put it down. Seriously. I will ask her questions and she will answer- all without eye contact. Perhaps I will post a collage of pictures of Kenly's profile, or the top of her head, or her backside. Because that's all I have.

I will be around more often, as my goal is to produce a little boredom in my life. Who needs a clean house/clean clothes/fed kids anyway?

Weekend fun

Kenly is Queen of the mountain (rock)
Ash is always posing..

Such sweet chaos with these two!

No clue what that face is..

Me and Ash sledding - check out my feet..

Young children + vacation= EXHAUSTED mom and dad! I'm still trying to recover from our weekend in Ruidoso, in fact; if anyone would like to borrow my children for awhile so that I may sleep I will gladly oblige. We actually had a great time despite my ever-present lack of logic. We went hiking and shopping, we rode ponies and had a picnic - I even took Ashlyn sledding. In my flip flops. As in, I hiked through the snow with a kid and huge tube in tow IN FLIP FLOPS. Seriously? Allen said that everyone in that place was saying "Who is the crazy lady sledding with no shoes on?" Yup, that's me. The lunatic.

On a more serious note, one of Allen's good work friends suffered a brain aneurysm on Monday and they've decided to turn his life support off tomorrow as he has no brain activity. This guy is only 22 years old and everyone around him is in total shock. Please pray for his wife and the rest of his family - I know they're confused and hurting so very much right now.

Love to everyone...

Ashlyn and Kenly and bears; Oh my.

We're leaving for Ruidoso on Friday. I have a few concerns.

1. Restless small children (with powerful lungs) in the confines of a car for 4 hours strongly resembles a horror movie. (and it seems strapping them to the roof is frowned upon)
2. Bears.
3. Because we are required to pack way more crap than our car will hold we will be forced to leave the stroller here. I'll actually have to walk.
4. Allen and I don't often spend 4 whole days together, and I'm told that 60 straight hours with me is a wee bit intolerable. We shall see.
5. We are driving home on Monday which happens to be my birthday. It is impossible to properly celebrate the 26th anniversary of my birth in only half of a day. You will all just have to make up for it with jewels. Or cake. Or both.

It's in the "jeans"..or busting out of them.

I'm trying to lose weight for several reasons..

1. No reputable surgeon will perform a disc fusion on me until I do (and when letting someone re build your spine, that someone should apparently be- among other things- "reputable.")
2. Fat just isn't fun.
3. My poor husband (who gets increasingly better looking every second) does not deserve to be forever bound to my post-wedding, post-baby 60 pound weight gain.

I'm currently down 17 pounds which; roughly translated, means that you can see a difference. In my fingers.

On the upside I am notorious for my ability to lose things, so I'm hoping that genetic pre-disposition will also apply when it comes to pounds.

Keep it simple, stupid

After dinner last night I took the girls outside to ride scooters and bikes and expend some energy when I heard the familiar (but incredibly annoying) music of the ice cream truck rolling down our street. I usually avoid the jingling freezer like the plague, with a mind set of “If we never stop the truck the girls will never know what it is – thus I will not be exposed to pleas of “But MOOOOOMMMM It’s the ICE CREAM TRUCK!”

So I was little surprised when Ashlyn saw it and knew exactly what it was…. And for whatever reason (that I can already tell I’ll regret every day when we hear the music) I decided we would get ice cream. The girls were thrilled! They thought getting to choose which bar they wanted and paying the lady was so much fun! Ashlyn even picked a weed and gave it to her. Then they sat in the garage in their little chair and had the best time giggling and licking and getting completely and utterly sticky (hard for this OCD mom to watch). They both thought they had gotten the most awesome little treat and it reminded me that sometimes we shouldn’t ignore the simple things. Who needs Chuck E. Cheese when you have ice cream on wheels?

I was also very pleasantly surprised to know that the failing economy has not caused inflation in the ice cream truck industry. Most of the treats were only $1.00…. this is comforting news. We may soon lack the funds for milk, cheese and eggs, but we will be able to purchase ice cream and we won’t have to waste any gas in order to do so!

Noteworthy Items; in list form:

1. Facebook is causing me to be a bad mother.
2. I purchased new bras and my tata's are back where they belong; just under my chin.
3. Since Christmas, I have acquired 14 new books and have read 9 of them. I'm. A. Nerd.
4. 3 of those books are historical non-fiction; meaning I'm learning stuff. Serious. Nerd.
5. I need someone to explain to me (Again) that 32 degrees is cold. Way cold. When you see that temperature on the forecast for the following day you should wear long sleeves. And shoes that cover your whole foot.
6. My daughters believe that dandelions are the most beautiful flower alive. Because of this every cup, saucer or other such dish I own is housing a dead weed.

That is all.

Finally, she uses a brain cell..

I have 3 (or 4; depending on how you look at it) tattoos. I personally feel that they can be a wonderful expression of self, faith, artistry... and, as most who have ever gone under the inking needle will atest, they are mildly addicting.

Sometimes, though - tats are not an expression of anything more than a dumb 18 year old deciding that she "has to have one." I mean, the state of Texas says I'm mature enough so by jove - I'm gonna do it! This is how my first tat came to be. I walked into the tattoo parlor, straight up to the pictures on the wall, saw the most ridiculous drawing and said "THAT'S IT!" Because of this gross lack of sane thinking I will forever be inked on the right hip with a palm tree. Yeah, I know..

I also have a large butterfly on my left foot that used to be a small butterfly. I wanted another tat but didn't want to put one anywhere else so I just covered the old with a new. Again, I know..

FINALLY I have gotten a tattoo that means something and that I can honestly say I love. It's the Chinese symbol for "dad" - as most of you know I lost my Dad almost 10 years ago, so this one was completely planned and has meaning behind it.

Booty girls!

I have absolutely NO idea what caused this.. but it happened, it made me laugh hysterically, and I got a picture. These kids are nuts.

Also, my kids are con-artists, and I'm convinced that this could prove very lucrative for our future.

Happy Sunday everyone!

Will someone please hit the pause button?

These offspring of mine have decided that they will grow up at the speed of light, and apparently there is nothing I can do to stop it. Kenly is speaking in complete sentences (occasionally...) and last week Ashlyn used the word "comtemplation" in the correct context. I'm sorry, I did not sign up for this, and now that I see how quickly this whole thing is going to go I don't think I want to continue. (ok, ok so I did sign up for it and I'll keep the kids I suppose; but SERIOUSLY. I guess I should go ahead and get graduation announcements ready. At this rate that will be happening next week.)

Kayla; the anti-crafter

I am easily inspired by anything crafty. I always find things in stores or magazines or on HGTV and decide that “I can TOTALLY make that”; which in-turn leads me to Hobby Lobby to purchase paint, sparkles, glue, ribbon, papers or whatever materials my latest project requires. I’ll get home, feeling hopeful and confident about myself, lay out my workspace and dive head first into creating. I will then happily cut, glue, staple and poke for awhile; until I reach a step that is entirely too advanced for my elementary skill level. I’ll fumble and curse and growl and begin blaming my husband (who’s 300 miles away) or my kids (who are in bed) for my “lack of concentration” -( lack of ability). Ultimately I’ll quit; leaving countless unfinished projects lying around that sooner or later get scrapped for parts and thrown out. It’s maddening, really.

However; I was able to FINALLY start and finish something all on my own and I will post pictures here as proof that I am not a complete crafting failure.

These are hanging in Ashlyn’s room; above her bed. I’m waiting for the night when my shotty craftsmanship gives way and the balls descend onto her head.

Boys will be boys...

This weekend we met up with Allen’s good friend, Joe, and some friends to celebrate Joe’s birthday. Allen and Joe have been buddies since they were more or less in diapers and (as men do) seem to find trouble anytime they are together. Per normal “married folk” behavior; the guys had gathered in one area and the girls in another to visit and catch up. After a few minutes I hear something like this; “Yeah Allen, like that time we shot you TWICE” followed by an uproar of man-laughter. I catch Allen’s face at that moment and it goes from sheer joy at the thought of this memory to “Oh CRAP*” in about 2 seconds flat. You see, this little shooting incident happened only a couple of years ago and certainly after Allen and I were married but I had not heard a THING about it before.

When Al took me to lunch today I brought it up (Because I’m a woman, and we can’t help it. We have to nag and gripe and question every little thing. That’s just how it works.) It starts innocently enough – I’m jokingly asking him how this little story slipped by me for this long and he’s giving me this “I have no idea; I thought I told you” look coupled with a knowing smirk. A little later (Again, because I’m a woman and estrogen is a determined hormone) I sneak in something about being irresponsible and being dangerous with guns and “we have kids you can’t act that way.” Of course Allen then points out that this reaction is exactly why he’d omitted this information in the first place. After further consideration, I’m also curious as to how the ginormous bruising he suffered escaped my sights. This happened in the beginning of our marriage and probably around the time we were still, um – enjoying “being newlyweds.” A lot. Constantly. (sorry mom).

Fear not, ladies – for in the end I still conquered. I ended by pointing out that, contrary to his plan, omitting this story had not saved him a butt-chewing – it had merely delayed it. Plus, he had ignited the obligatory “what else has he done that I don’t know about” thought process that always follows in these cases. I have also concluded that stories like these remind me of how thankful I am for my daughters. Yeah – once a month there will be raging, unruly hormonal outbursts and emotional overflows and giggling silly nonsense aplenty; but (hopefully) there will not be reckless gun-shooting, testosterone-driven idiocy.

I love you, honey!

**I should clarify that Allen was “shot” with only the “wad” without pellets from a shotgun… these are his terms; not mine – but I just needed to ensure that it was understood that no bullets/pellets/other such metal actually entered his body.

The kiddos; and vital information about x-rays.

I promised updated pics of the kids- and here they are! Aunt Amanda gave Kenly the tutu she's wearing for Christmas and she NEVER takes it off, she has even slept in it a few times.

Also - most of you know that I have some really bad back issues. I had surgery when Ash was just 6 weeks old and will probably have a disc fusion in a year or so. I have regular steroid injections and facet blocks and they are going to "kill" my nerves in a month. But for now I live with a lot of pain and my back constantly locks, leaving me walking like an 85 year old. I had a really bad flare-up on Monday and my pain Dr. couldn't get me in so I ended up in the ER. They, of course, took x-rays and it was then that I found out that THEY CAN SEE TAMPONS on an x-ray! I mean, I'm not modest or shy by ANY means about things like that (obviously; as I'm telling this story.. ) but it's kind of unnerving to know that these COMPLETE strangers are aware of my current visitor by means of a photo of my screwed-up back!

I hope you all have a great Sunday!