Save The Date.

Exactly, 4 months from today....
Our little town,
will be rocked with the Greatest Relay Event Eva.
(ok, that may be over shooting-it a touch.)
But our team will be aiming for Awesomeness.



Grab your Daily Planner,
open your Blackberry Calender,
Rip a scrap piece a paper, tape it to your fridge...
Mark down the Date, ASAP.
(I mean, do it NOW!)

January 29, 2011 at 8:00pm.
Our Team will celebrate Relay Dance Night with a

Recycled Wedding Reception!

Start digging in your closet.
Spend your holiday season, in your parents attic.
Locate your most hideous Bridesmaid dress.
(Or your most beautiful.)
Find an old Wedding Gown (or two!)
Squeeze into Daddy's faded blue tuxedo.

It is never too early to start planning.

Especially, because...
Someone will be getting Married that night.
Who knows..
Maybe...it will be You.

Dear My Boyfriend:

This evening, as you look around your home...

If you see your fabulously beautiful wife
and you think,
you just can not spend one more second
basking in her Joy and falling deeper and more
madly in love with her...

If you notice your cute children,
and feel painfully annoyed with their
obedience and Chore-minding abilities...

If you wake up for work,
and are immediately bored with the idea
of surrounding yourself with co-workers
who find you mysteriously unique and clever....



Than call me...
And we will run away together.
We may not get far, as we are both extremely unfriendly and socially retarded... but it's worth a shot. Adventure, in the name of Forbidden Love.

Coach Hearts you so very much,
I doubt he would even mind.

In the words of a very wise and stable, Ke$ha..
"I Like yer Beard."

Happy Birthday, Clark.
The Offer stands for the next 48 hours.
Or, maybe longer....

Vote: Yes or No.

Is it or is it not very, very wrong.
That the person, with the longest, most beautiful head of cascading blond hair, on the Monday Night Football telecast....
Was a Green Bay Packer?

Not a Cheer leading Green Bay Packer.
Actually, a growling ugly-lookin Packer.

Yes: That is wrong.
No: That makes perfect sense to you?

Please remember, I said cascading.

What I learned This Afternoon.

There is a channel.
On the television.
Devoted entirely to Fantasy Football Stat Tracking.
Honest to God.

Clark has Bad Ideas.

I Like.
In the following order.
'1' being cute like a Unicorn.
'4' being the total opposite of cute.
Kinda like, Not Cute or very much Not Good.

1. My pink 1980's Strawberry Shortcake Lunchbox.
2. Free Tinkerbell Lunchbox with the purchase of the New Tinkerbell Fairy Rescue.
3. Packing The Kid's daily Lunchbox.
4. Quickly Slamming a Lunchbox.

Actually,
some days 3 and 4 could be interchangeable.

'Light Up your Face with Gladness...'

If you were a....



..Barbie, you would be Skipper.
..Pretty Pony, you would be Buttercup.
..Disney Princess, you would be Cinderella.
..Flower, you would be a glowing Spring Tulip.
..or a window box bursting Full of cascading Petunias.

You are a brilliant Primary Yellow. A radiant snuggle of Sunshine. A sparkle so blinding, I need sunglasses to absorb your twinkling chatter.
You are softly bouncing, while standing still.
A welcomed, invader of personal space.
The dazzling Rainbow, glowing in our Sky.
You have inherited your Mother's infectious spirit-lifting Joy. Her compassionate, Mother-Hen devotion. You both, are a cloud of shimmering Summer-time Bubbles, at each family gathering.
Thank-you...
for shining your warm beam of love,
in our direction.
Happy Birthday, Eight.
We adore you.

So...while we were ....

...just chillin in front row dug out seats....
At the Cubs game....
Did that sound casual?
Like it's just no big deal,
to lean on a Professional Dugout?

Unfortunately, while we were not leaning on the Dugout, we were racing for cover due to rain. The game started one hour later, which gave us plenty of time to purchase me an emergency hat.
The mess I carry upon my head...
Does NOT, interact well with rain.



Other observations.
While inches away from Byrd, Coach awkwardly reached his hand out and pulled it back as if he could absorb his Baseball Godness, by high-fiving his aura.



Later, they were practically Besties.
Taking quick pictures together and what not.



This man, is big.
You see him on TV... and yet, he is Massive.
Huge, freaky intensely big.
I wasn't intimidated, because My Husband is also Freakishly Huge. I had a moment, where I went to yell out his name and became a little nervous of what may happen, if his giant head turned around.



Congratulations Coach,
on taking home something Pretty.
Something, he will love forever.
Something, he would lay down his life for...



A Cubbie baseball. Thrown from a player. Fresh with Sweat and Wrigley dirt and smut, smeared all over it. He will cherish her forever.

Thanks, Dittas for the Evening.
It was a slightly better Date, than our regular Tuesday evening plans.

Ranting...

I felt it was time, for a good ol' edition of

Why the F....

...did Dancing with the Stars, have to rip my guts out, with a painful Pre-teen flashback to the beautiful soul-twisting glory of Dirty Dancing?

...didn't Three score a touchdown last night? Did he not realize how that could have improved my mood? Selfish.

...do I look forward to each Sons Of Anarchy with the same giddy anticipation as the birth of my children?

Why the F...

...are friends planning a Moustache Party? Are there not enough people in this town, left with violent flashbacks from Coach's 1985 Prom Creepy.Pervert.Moustache? Or is that just me?

...is Tink obsessed with Band-aides?

...Does my son wear me the F out?
...Does One wear me the F out?
...Do lots of things...etc.?

Why the F...

...am I not losing weight from my
Casey's pizza/Candy Corn Diet?

...do I have to suffer 4 full weeks, with the Heavy Weight of the Secret of Munchkin's Halloween costume...when I want to discuss the inevitably hilarious details, with any stranger I may bump in to on the street...
(If I in fact, was ever in public, other than walking 1 short block to high school football games..)?

...do I have to drive all the way to Chicago, to sit in Lame First row Dug-out seats at a boring ol' Professional Baseball game tonight? Blah, blah..boring. My life is soooo tough.

Game On.

It's Possible, she may Never Wash her Face Again.

Painted Faces, Corn Dogs and Craft Shows...
Oh My.



Softball Champions, Parades and Flag Boys...
Oh My.



Cousins, Late Nights and Early Mornings...
Oh My.



Friends, Jump Ropes and Candy...
Oh My.



Rain Delays, Dancing and Ice Cream...
Oh My.



The Hip Hoppity Buzz of The Festival,
is winding down.
The Children are zonked.
The Husband is Basking in his win.
The Home is vibrating from the Parade Drums.
The Carnies are clearing out.
And The Mom is happy to report, The Second Greatest weekend is still pretty great.
Our wallets are empty our pants are too tight and our memory box is full.
Thanks for Lovin us Back so hard, Hometown.

And so it Begins...

"The Greatest Weekend On Earth,
Second to Christmas."









Three Full Days of Tired, Spoiled, Cranky, Sweaty, Face-painted, Happy, Smiling, Stuffed, Greedy, Happy, Happy, Happy...Children.

Stay tuned,
there will seriously be many more pics to follow.

Happy 'Second Greatest Weekend'
to Everyone!

Happily Flashing Forward

Given where we were, exactly One Year ago this morning, this very second....

I have never, loved looking at this beautiful face, in this beautiful picture, during this big beautiful busy month of yours...
more than now.



A daughter is a miracle that never ceases to be miraculous...full of beauty and forever beautiful...loving and caring and Tru-ly amazing.
-- Deanna Beisser

I love you, Tink.
Happy Carnival Day.
You and I have a Date on the Ferris Wheel.

I Heart my Fall Diet.

Set Scene:
Coach and I are shopping.
I grab 2 of the Jumbo Value Size bags of Candy Corn.
The slightest hint of shock and disapproval registers and quickly clears on my husband's face.

Me: What? It's Fat Free.

Coach: Yes, I know.
You tell me that every year.

Me: Then, I guess there was no need for the Face.
It is practically health food.
Don't Judge.

Maybe, we Should Consider Supervising her TV time better.

In an effort to get Tink, off of the couch and into the Big Girl World...we signed her up for Tumbling.
Her first class was last week.
Her ignorant mother, dressed her in yoga clothes. Assuming, such outfit, would be appropriate to 'tumble in'.
I was wrong and told as much, several times.

"Eberybody has da ballerina clodes!"
"I want da black ballerina clodes like Lola!"
"She is mine faborite friend of ballerina clodes!"

Footnote: Lola is unbelievably cute. That said, she has only crossed Tink's path a possible 6 or 7 times, making it difficult to believe she is actually Tink's Faborite Clodes Friend.

But when Tink says Jump:
Grammy says.."To Target or Old Navy??"



Therefore, this evening (and for the last 6 days)
Tink was dressed for Tumbling.
She requested (demanded) I take her picture.
She posed, sweetly.

Then...
She wanted to take a picture like a 'Real Dancer'.
She dashed over to the wall.
Below was her Pose Choice.



Ummm,
Exactly what kind of Dancer is she mimicking?

Coach's Rules:

Yes.
Apparently, it is completely necessary...
to have 3 televisions,
in our home,
playing the exact same Football Game,
at the exact same time.

Next time,
I will know better,
than to ask such a ridiculous question.

My fault.

The Cups are Tiny.

You really have not lived until...
You take your toddler daughter for her
"First Official Physical" and are promoted to the balancer/navigator/encourager/handler of her
"First Official Pee in the Cup".
Typically, this would have been a tension filled,
stress-headache inducing scene... and yet,
with her little Tink voice, curiously, repeatedly
and loudly questioning:

"Why dos da Doctor need my pee?"
"Why dos da Doctor like pee?"
"Dat is berry gross of him."
"Da Doctor is berry gross to play wif mine pee!"

There is really no good answer to that question and
I could not stop laughing, in spite of myself.

10-Four Good Buddy!

Webster's Definition of 'Good':
adj : of a favorable character or tendency : handsome, attractive : agreeable, pleasant : salutary, wholesome

Webster's Definition of 'Buddy':
noun: companion, partner : fellow (used in informal address) : friend.



My Definition of 'Good Buddy': Our Four.

You are Coach's Godson-buddy. Your Dad's Cubbie-Buddy. Tink's oldercousincrush-buddy, Your sister's Bigbrother-Buddy, Your Mom's lightupherlife-Buddy. You are, this entire family's... Buddy.

And...You. Are. Good.

You are polite, well-mannered, well-behaved,
well-dressed, well-spoken.
You are always in Good-humour.
A good baseball player, a good brother, a good son.
You were Good Daddy Practice for Coach.
Inside and out, you ooze Goodness.

Having you around, makes us feel Good. Calmer, safer more relaxed. Sometimes, this crazy giant Irish ship of a family needs a Port in our Storm...
Thank you,
for anchoring our Clan,
Good Buddy.
Happy Birthday, Four.
We love you!

Tinkerbell starts Pre-school

The Actual Events (The story inside my Head.)

The alarm rings.
Me: Well, today is the Big Day. I am totally ready for this. I don't think I am going to cry!

Coach: You hate the girls. You only love The Kid.

Me: It's not that. I just think Tink is VERY ready.
(I mean, we are together ALL the time. We need a break from each other. She needs to make some friends. Learn, grow...get OUT there!)

We wake her. She is bouncing with excitement. She dresses herself, eats her breakfast and repeatedly declares "I am berry big now, like mine broda."
(Gulp. Big like her broda?)



We head outside, take the standard 'First Day of School' Pic in the same location as her brother.
(Ummm, hold the phone. That backpack seems pretty big. She's just a tiny person. She can't carry a bag THAT big. Tiny people, can't just be walkin around without their mothers, carrying giant bags!)



We ditch Coco, to make Tink's morning special. We cheerfully drive 4 blocks to the Church Preschool.
(Wow. We are really, kinda doing this. What do we even know about this school? I can't even remember her teacher's name.)

We arrive outside.
Coach asks if we go inside, or drop her at the door.
(What is wrong with him! Drop her at the door! She is just tiny! She can't get in the door by herself. My God, I am surprised he didn't just slow down on the street and push her out of the van.)

We take a pic at the door.
(Umm, does she look nervous? Is she not ready?)

We open the door and head inside.
Just then.. her hand, reaches up for mine.
(Throat closing! Her hand is so tiny. She loves me.)



We place her huge back pack, in the too small cubby.
We enter her room, she begins to play.

Coach: Well, are you ready to go?

Me: What! None of her friends are here yet. Can we at least wait for her people?
(Oh my gosh, wait a minute!)

Friends arrive.

Coach: Are you ready, now?
Me: Just because you don't love her and are ready to run out and celebrate our tiny daughter growing up and leaving home...
(Jerk! Why did I marry someone so insensitive?)

Coach kisses her goodbye.
I lean down to kiss her goodbye.

Me: Good luck. I love you. Have a great first day.
Tink: I lobe you too. I am big now, like mine broda.

(What did she say? Tears welling. Big like her brother? She can't be. She was JUST a baby. A teeny baby.)

Tink turns to her friends. Totally over me. Coach walks out of the room. I follow (the jerk).

(My chest hurts! Tears. What just happened? How the heck did that JUST happened? When did she become big? I'm not ready. I change my mind.)

Coach and I get in the van.

Coach (smiling with his ugly face): I thought you weren't going to cry?

Me: Shut up.

The Bridges of Madison County.

I found myself, alone. (rarely happens) And spent my evening watching The Bridges of Madison County.
I read this book many years ago and it ripped my heart out. I cried and cried. While it still flipped my gut, as she gripped the door handle (Seriously! Get out of the car!) ... I felt less romantic towards the movie, as it relates to my life.
This Boring ol' housewife, in a small Mid-western town, should relate to Francesca. Instead, I pictured myself in her shoes, realizing several reasons....

I Probably will NOT have a Passionate Love Affair:

1. Let's just pretend, Coach ever left his town for 4 days. It would probably be for a softball tournament and he would NEVER take his 3 children. Let's get crazy and suppose he did... if a rugged Photographer came knocking at my door for directions... I would probably ignore him because I was comfy in bed, watching Reality TV.

2. Suppose, I did answer and after an endearing conversation, invited him for dinner. I would never use the energy to cook a meal for a stranger... leaving my only available option to order a pizza and... well, Coach always drives to pick it up! That would be unfortunate telling the Handsome Stranger, I am too lazy to pick up my own fast-food. Or...
The Delivery Boy, would Heart Coach and would be peering around my Nothingness, to catch a glimpse of Coach's SuperFlyAwesomeness.

3. If, Handsome Stranger were to park his Rugged-man truck at my corner-lot home. Coach would receive 47 text messages within an hour, asking if he had traded-in his Little-boy truck.
His town, would not keep my secret.

4. If dinner progressed and Handsome Stranger began detailing his worldly travels with whimsy Poetic Quotes. I would either... Be Unable:
A.) to suppress the 'You are a Poet Dork giggle'
or
B.) to pay attention because I would be wondering when was the last time, I shaved my legs.

5. As the evening turned Romantic, I fear the seduction would be repeatedly interrupted, by my Father-in-Law calling to ask if 'I had heard any updates on Coach's Softball game'.

6. If, by some miracle, we had skipped past all of the above and walked hand-in-hand to my Marital Bed to consummate our affair... I'm sure The Mood, would be lost as Handsome Stranger clumsily tripped over the Gigantic! Pile Of Dirty Clothes! My Pig of a Husband! Leaves Hidden on his Side! Of the Bed!!

7. Last... um, I guess I love my husband. Anyway...

In Conclusion,
If you are a Handsome Stranger, you had better just skip this house. I am apparently too Jaded, Lazy, Boring or I suppose 'in love' Blah, Blah... to embark on Whirl-wind Romance for the Ages.
Or, I am already in the middle of One.
What Ev.

Stop Driving by our Home.

Quick show of hands....?

Did everybody in town, drive past my house yesterday, to witness Tink outside without pants?
Or just the 10 unrelated people, I spoke too?
She was wearing panties and a long Tinkerbell shirt.
While we discussed (several times) to add shorts,
she answered the following:

I just can't.
My muscles are too tired.
My legs can't get higher.
No danks.

and The Standard:

I don't dink so.

I'm sure,
you believe a good mother,
should be able to out-wit a toddler into pants.

My answer:
I just can't.
My muscles are tired.
She's no average 3 year old.

and

No danks.

If Life was a Poker game,
Tink spotted my Tell and realized I'm bluffing.