A Conversation:

this morning, between Gramma G and I.

Me: Looks like Tink has officially quit Tumbling. She declared she was quitting 3 weeks ago but it took until this Monday for her parents to finally join her club.

Gramma G: She's a Quitter then... Like Fedderson?

Me: Well, I wouldn't really call her a quitter, given the fact, she never really started Tumbling in the first place. She mostly just put on the cute outfit and showed up, to stand around and hold Eleven's hand.

Gramma G: Oh... Sorta like you and your running?

Me: Yes... Exactly like that.


**It's official.... everyone in Coach's family,
is a comedienne.**

Let me Spell this out....

People are NOT supporting the dream.
"Tru Stories is crazy. Her Oprah Dream is ridiculous. She's a few belt notches off the reservation....etc."

So let me take this down another avenue.
Let's just say... Clark was offered the chance to throw batting practice for the Chicago Cubs. He has the opportunity, to toss his name in a GIANT hat, to spend 2 hours throwing batting practice.
The Cubs are an iconic, Chicago Staple.
Clark has wasted HOURS, watching Cubs games in TV. His life has not, been made better by the Cubs (actually, they disappoint him annually). It is a totally irrational, romanticized 'crush' on a group of men, who do not know Clark and will never actually be his friend.
All of that said...
If Clark was given the chance, to throw The Chicago Cubs batting practice:
It would not, fix the problems of his life.
It would not, necessarily make his life better.
It would not, improve his marriage (which is pukey Fabulous anyway) or make his children better people or pay his mortgage. But it WOULD: make him happy. It would make Clark smile and make for one of the VERY best stories of his life, which he would repeat... many, many times.

Similar to if my Coach won court side seats, at the NCAA Basketball Tournament Championship game.
Or The Mrs. got center stage seats to Bon Jovi.
Or Chili was seated at the 50 yard line for the Chicago Bears Superbowl game.
Or Warhol...ummmm... watched an awesome 80's cover hair band...Whatever floats his boat??

The point is:
Will attending the Oprah show, change me or make my life significantly different? Is it slightly irrational to want to hug her? I suppose....All of that said... Attending the Oprah show. Would just make me... really, really happy.

Therefore,
please send positive, Dream-making vibes my way.
Not, grumpy and sassy Comments.
Those make me, less than happy.
And I swear... I just recently warned you:
My mother is Wicken.

2000 Characters is NOT enough!

They are currently accepting last minute reservations for the Oprah Show.
I submitted the following request:

I've never been to the show. I Triple Dog Heart Oprah. Hand to my little-chest-swear, I will leave my kids in a Road Runner dust cloud, to be there. I had an 'oprahiphany' while watching the Australian Adventure with my son. (we pretend it's the Reading Rainbow of his generation.) He apologized because I was not on the Ultimate Vacation and asked if I was going to cry. Insert 'Oprahany'. Australia, was not my Dream.
My two Celebrity Dreams would include:
A. Attending The Oprah Show.
B. Hangin with Julia Roberts, while I am on my A-Game Funny, making her laugh that giant awesome laugh, of hers.
Insert epiphany. The Ultimate Viewers had Their Moment. My Moment is me, in the Audience. Maybe I hug Oprah. (not like a stalker) Maybe this is her final show, with Julia. Maybe, I crack one of my best jokes. They decide I am Totally Awesome and invite me to Oprah's office for Post Show drinks with the OWN cameras. Maybe, me, Oppie and Jules exchange emails and become Besties spending weekends in New Mexico. My point is, I have to think smaller than Australia. Just love-sick-puppy me, in Your audience. I will do my best, not to randomly shout "Oprah, Be my mom, I love you!" Because, if I ran to Chicago, in a frenzy of excited screams and forgot one ticket for the woman who gave me life, she may never forgive me. Except, to ask how pretty Oprah looked in person. Please choose us as audience members. My fingers are crossed. I'm considering, launching an all-out campaign to realize my 'oprahany'. I'm not sure, my husband can stomach the small-town humiliation, when neighbors realize I am Coco for Oprah-Puffs! And if my husband, has hand-written Oprah the most heart-felt, eye-watering letter and her Cameras will Surprise! arrive at my door to whisk me away. I would sorta appreciate he give me a Head's Up, so I may shower before Noon and try to get my 3 children out of their jammies."

I don't know...
Do you think it was enough?
Go ahead people, launch the attack. I am sure it has been planned for months. Print the fliers. Place our T-shirt order. Flood the phone-lines. Submit emails. If you have Oprah's personal phone number, maybe this would be the time to text her.
I just can not live my entire life, with only having accomplished those three bratty kids!! Think happy thoughts. Followers... UNITE!

Varsity Alumni Basketball Game

In less than 3 weeks, we erratically threw together a charity Alumni Basketball Game. Graduating classes 2000-2006. After a few practices, several bossy Facebook messages and probably 400ish phone calls on Coach's cell... the boys Tipped-off last night.
We were very pleased with the results.
Well.... maybe not very pleased.

(The first of many pics of The Kid on this court.)

(Self-declared 'Coach of the Night'.)

(Green Team Time Out.)

(The Bride and her parents, Our Neighbors. Many, many thanks to all 3. Game night MVP's.)

(White Team Managers: Three & His Buddy.)

(His shot may have been a bit off but Coach's defending and AwesomeAssistAbilities? AmaZinG.)

(Green Team Manager: aka My new Fav Nice Guy.)

(MC: The BiG Kahuna. Luv Him.)

(TwoFour is Intense... Sooo Intimidating)

(This is the Face of a Baller, who just realized the scoreboard is NOT gonna show Win, in his Favor.)

(The White Team. Victorious.)

(The Green Team. The Non-Victorious.)

(The Kid receiving the special score card autograph from Philadelphia Eagle Clay Harbor. And then...
he asked his Dad for an autograph... so cute.)

Wrap Up:
Does Coach especially enjoy losing??
Ummmmmmm...... Nope.

But afterwards,
A.) I explained, we raised $1705.00 to be donated to the Jr High and Youth Basketball Programs. Win.
and
B.) Several players proposed a Best of Seven, of the Newly Established Feud of the 2000's. WIN. WIN. WIN... for Coach.

It was an excellent night. The game was competitive and thrilling to watch. The fans came out in force. The family/reunion style gathering after the game was most enjoyable. 3 weeks worth of planning and mild-stress induced headaches??
Totally worth it. Totally.

EIGHT days a Week.

I ain't got nothin' but love girl....

For your tiny smile, your scootin little bottom, and the spark of trouble in your eye. You are the firework in our family. The Pop Rocks in our soda. I like to watch you 'leap' and I love to hear you laugh.

Now that you are really a Big Girl.
Your Dad is gonna have to be prepared for the:
Pedicure on your toes, toes.
Tryin on all your clothes, clothes.
Boy blowin up your phones, phones.
(maybe first, they should buy you a phone??)

Soon enough, you're gonna give your old man, an aneurysm and we'll all sit back and giggle. (for a couple years, then we'll be busy, suffering through Tink.)
Until Tink's moment, you will have our full attention...
Sparkle Bright, life is your stage!

Happy 8th Birthday, Number Nine.

EIGHT days a week
'We' love you.
EIGHT days a week
Is not enough to show 'We' care.

Black Magic Woman

Last night, someone told me... one of her friends has a fiance, that may be the person in South Africa, reading my blog. Crazy! Intellectually, I realize, if you put your life on the Internet, people you have never met may read this. Still, understanding hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people follow our little family... is hard to imagine. To me, I just have 37 Lil ol' Peeps (33 of which, I am related too) who routinely check to see if my kids have gotten cuter (they have) or if Coach is still funny (He is).
Today, the world will know my mother is a witch. (no... I am not just talking about her personality.)
Last week, Grammy performed an exorcism on our home, to expel Doomsday Dan and his buddy BadLuck Chuck. Oh.. You didn't know Grammy was Wicken?
She trained for years (15 minutes on Google), with her grandmother, after locating her perfect spell, she ventured into her secret cellar for supplies (some hippie shop at the Mall).

First, Grammy lit incense and walked slowly through each room, to determine the direction the smoke would blow. If it floated up, the room was clean and without ugly vibes. The only room, which the smoke floated side-wayz... was our bedroom.
(Don't blame us! Sometimes that room gets a little PG13, if ya know wat I sayin....Holla Back ya'll..!)

Next, she lit a giant 'smudger' and began smudging the bad vibes from our person. We each had to read a little chant from her spell book (paper printed from her Google search). Coco hid behind my legs, The Kid nervously laughed hysterically and Tink,
ummmm... have you seen Tru Blood, when their bodies shake and convulse as the demon fights within?? It looked a little something like that.

Coach arrived home during this process. He stood still to get smudged, chatting as he barely noticed Grammy, Mr. Mojo Rising-ed the bad spirits out of an open door. She then began voodoo-ing salt on our windows and doorways. Still, as Coach hardly reacted... as if he is accustomed to his Mother-in-Law stopping over with new pink headbands for the girls and a few Chants to the Mother Earth... on the side.

8 days later... and no major financial disasters or stitches to be sewn. Fingers are crossed. If you need a house cleansing or a personal exorcism of any kind,
Contact Grammy at:
1-800-She's a Quack or
www.willsomeonepleasekeepheroffGoogle.com
She prefers to work in the evenings and would probably only charge: your first born or maybe a few teeth or possibly just a Snickers.

Spring Break

Given our growing list of financial strain, thanks to Bad Luck Charlie's reign over our household, Spring Break will be a little light this year. Our only adventure??
A trip to the zoo with cousins.
First, lunch at Stake in Shake. Inviting little Seven was genius!! She is already the perfect mother... just like her Doc. We enjoyed our shakes in peace, while she tended to Coco.



Next, The zoo.
Today, was forecasted to be the only pretty day all week and we happily soaked up the sun. Coco loved feeding the goats. While her over protective father paced, gasped and shrieked like a woman, over the possibility her tiny fingers may get eaten by the blood thirsty goat, living in the petting zoo.





Five was braver than her Uncle.

Below, you will notice a group photo excluding Coco. Her Daddy tried to place her on the (eerily lifelike) tiger's head... causing her to scream in fear and violently arch her body towards her parents.
Nice parenting, Coach.



*****************************************
WARNING: Shocking Flashback Photo Section!!





Sorry, to the parents and grandparents,
who just heard their own hearts break.
Where the heck did those babies go???
**************************************



Above: Super cute pic of my baby. Carefully, look past her adorable-ness to her father: yawning in boredom, while trying to give our children a little culture.


That is a picture, of a baby... who spent the day running circles around a sunny park. Love it.

On the agenda for the remainder of our Spring Break? Randomly throughout the week, we are all five going to stand in the bathroom... flush the toilet, then pause to listen for it to NOT drop into a giant mountain of poo into our crawl space... and yell in unison
"Wooo Hooo... Spring Break 2011!!!"
It's gonna be pretty awesome.

Even the Cat has lost his Mind.

We had a relaxed, renting movies kind of weekend. I briefly left the house twice, in nearly 4 days. Once for Grandpa's late birthday lunch... the other, a longer than necessary, trip to the Vet.
I took our cat, to check for a possible legitimate reason not to string him up on the clothesline for 'wetting' on our laundry.
After a very long wait, in a small room with just me and my stupid cat in a box, the Tech performed a few tests. Moments later, the vet entered, asked a little 'patient history' and formed his professional opinion:
After 3 shoulder shrugs, multiple 'Gosh I'm Sure Sorry eyebrow raises' and $104.60 worth of urinalysis, Dr. Vet determined... My cat has behavioral issues.
End of Story. Bad Cat.

He gave me two Official courses of action.

1. I could buy 2 more litter boxes and place them in his preferred 'accident areas'. (Funny to call it an 'accident' given that bleep of a cat, knows exactly where he is 'accidenting'.) Three different litter box locations to prevent Kit from making sand castles out of feces. (and no... it has not escaped me, how often I am blogging about feces.)

2. He would prescribe a Behavioral Medication in pill form, for us to give Rigby orally, once each day. "Which would hopefully, produce positive results in a month or so...".
I sarcastically laughed and responded,
"Like my cat is a child with ADD... sort of drugs?"
He missed my humour and answered,
"No... it is Prozac. Like if your child had Behavioral issues or was depressed."

I responded with a Stone Cold Look which read "What the What?? Prozac for a Cat... are you for Realz??"

I explained, I would discuss this with my husband. (Laughable.) Threw Rigby in the box and left.
Now, I realize there may be sad sacks kinda people, who will give a dumb cat pills daily and can barely finish a burger at The Pub, without having to call his mother to 'get his wittle kitties their meds'.... but those sorts of people, are very much NOT Coach and I.
It looks like this household is lookin for an Option #3. Any ideas/takers...?

Tink has her opinion:
Tuesday morning, she announced "I dink my berry good friends Lana and Kenna, rweally want Rigby to be their kitty." She marched down the hall and returned with my phone. "Send der modder notes on your phone. We can gibe our kitty to my friends and then we will get a newb cute puppy, wif a pink bow and name him Bird."
She watched me text her plan and waited patiently for an answer but "Der Modder" has a real job and took FOREVER to text back. The reply read, as follows:

"What if Bad Luck Chuck takes the physical form in Rigby? I just can't take the risk of voluntarily displacing him on OCH. Sorry, Tink. But you should totally buy her that puppy anyway. I've heard that some breeds LOVE to eat feces - it would be a win-win for everyone."

Sooo... it looks like Tink's idea is not gonna work.

They Really Like Being Irish.

Coach's father, is easily the cutest Dad. He believes each of his 5 children, equally walk on water.
Grandpa contacted our local Shirt Lady and requested she specially make his clan Polo T-shirts. He was concerned they would have nothing to wear for
St. Patrick's Day. (Apparently, he has failed to noticed, his children flaunt their Irishness, often and with much apparel, throughout the year.)
Or maybe he did notice....


(Warhol, The Commish, Flag Girl, Doc & Coach)
Thank-you Grandpa, for helping create, my new favorite family picture!



They really do... Like Being Irish.

St. Patrick's Day!

Here is wishing you and yours,
some well deserved Irish luck.

And a life of love, to our little St. Patrick,
on his 2nd Bday.

Joke of The Day:

The Kid approached me,

The Kid: Wanna hear my joke?

Me: Sure.

The Kid: Name a dead guy who really loves Math.

Me: I don't know
(though I had a feeling, I sorta did...)

The Kid: Count Dracula. Do you get it? Because he is a vampire and he really loves to count and do math??! Isn't that funny? I made it up in school today.

Me: That's hilarious.

Either The Kid just wrote his first joke... or possibly, Jim Henson and Sesame Street did, several decades ago. At least it wasn't another fact on the filming and/or creating of the three Jurassic Park movies... (which coincidentally, star several dinosaurs, not actual from the Jurassic period.... Duh.)

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

Actual Phone:

Me: Hello?

Grandpa: Hey... I've got somethin to tell you but you gotta promise not to tell anyone.

Me: Ok!

Grandpa: Ya know that girl at church that yada... yada (actual details deleted to protect the innocent.)

Me: No.

Grandpa: Yes. You do! The girl.. at church... that yada.

Me: No. I don't know her.

Grandpa: Yes! You do! She... yada.

Me: I really don't. You know, I barely go to church.

(Quiet Pause...)

Grandpa: Uhhh.... Who is this?

Me: (My actual name). You called my house.

Grandpa: Gramma is not there babysitting?

Me: Nope. Not til Thursday.

Grandpa: Uhhhh.... This is awkward.

Me: Sooo... what's the big gossip?

Grandpa: What?

Me: The big gossip, I swore to never tell anyone??

Grandpa: What?

Me: You're really not gonna tell me, after all that?

Grandpa: I don't know what you're talkin about. Uhhh... I gotta jump out. Talk to ya later....
(And he hung up on me.)

Grandpa, on your birthday, I want to thank-you for one of the best phone calls of my life. I'll excuse the fact that.. A.) you did not recognize my voice or your wife's voice, for nearly 1 minute of conversation...
B.) Did not really have to "Jump Out" and instead hung up on me ... all because C.) It was too great when you said "This is Awkward." Greatest. Line. Ever.



You brighten the day, of each person, on each path you cross. You are the very best game, in our game closet. The most comfortable chair, in our family room. The cozy calm, of our crazy family. And the first laugh, we hope to hear, after each joke we deliver.
Take our very best recipe, for our very favorite cookie and you are the perfectly, sweet chocolate chip.
Without you, we would be pretty bland.

Happy Birthday, To a very Good Man.
We love you!

Dang you, Moment of Clarity.

Fact: We discovered, after our yard thawed, the snow plows ripped up nearly all of our landscape timbers around our second driveway. Causing me to jerk far over, each time I pull out of the garage.

Fact: Coach spent our Saturday afternoon, patching a decent gap on our roof and laying lyme in our crawl space. More money...

Fact: We learned we are paying on our taxes, rather than receiving a refund.

Fact: This morning, a trailer, with a backhoe, pulled in front of our home. More money...

Fact: One hour later, 2 men had done little more than walk circles, sticking a long metal pole into my landscaping, trying to locate the pipes.

Fact: They are now tearing up our yard AND a portion of our neighbors.

Fact: Stressed over the tremendous hit to our finances, I left for yoga. Preparing to bring relaxation to the masses.
Simultaneously: my yoga bag fell across the seat... I noticed my door light blinking because again The Kid did not properly shut the back door.... I jerked to miss the broken timbers... AND.. then... crashed into Coach's truck... which is NEVER parked sideways, in our second drive but was today... to grant access to the giant Backhoe.
Yep. That really happened.
Eerily, without a single dramatic exclamation (seriously, no sarcasm this time) I calmly walked into the house. In monotone, I told Coach "I crashed our vehicles together". He calmly followed me. We surveyed the damage... shrugged our shoulders (we are now completely accustomed to Bad Luck Chuck's shenanigans) and I left for yoga.

Fact: I distractedly lead my class through a series of poses. I was not angry, I never so much as swore in the silence of my thoughts. But I was annoyed.
"Really....?" I thought. "Really, we are going to end up bankrupt, in a month? We have one unexpected expense after another!! Really... cut us a break?!"

I guided my class into final relaxation. Which I typically skip for myself but figured I should lay back, to prevent a migraine. And then... through my annoyance,
Clarity squarely slapped my snotty face.

"Really... stupid girl??? Really, you are upset over a busted tail-light? Really... you are annoyed the plumbing, in the home you OWN needs to be fixed? Really... you are dramatically melting down over a little poo in your crawl space??? Entire Japanese villages, full of family and friends, were washed away in seconds. Parents, held the hands of their children, as an angry wave yanked them apart. People, contemplating what to cook for dinner.. are now without a kitchen to cook in or a family to cook for.
So really.. selfish little brat... get over yourself!"

Honestly, Clarity spoke to me, that aggressively.
And while I rarely blog 'Thank-you Higher Power'... kind of posts. Dang it, if Clarity didn't teach me a lesson.

Because... Fact:
I really deserved that mental spanking.

A Dedication...

... to my Beautiful Friend:
This week, I pray for you and praise you, for having the strength, to change the direction of your path.



The Journey
A Poem by: Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do. And began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice-
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do-
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Warning: This Post is Graphic

As previously mentioned,
our older home is suffering with plumbing issues. After dropping $950 in January, our plumbing has continued to suffer with irregularity.
Bracing ourselves and bearing down, we called the plumbers back to our home. Preparing for the worst and receiving news, even worst-er than expected.
Due to the very large trees in our yard, the age of our home and the lack of proper maintenance in many years past.... our pipes are corroded, cracked and plugged from home to street.

Oh... that's all?
Chili Davis aka The Apparent Expert of Pipes Which Carry Dung, suggested we call in another opinion "Before you just drop $6000..."
Thanks Chili, for your bloated confidence in our ability to "just drop $6000" on anything...ever...
Coach called a very kind but extremely unlucky friend, to observe the damage. They (unfortunately for them) discovered our crawl space, is (literally) a $hit $torm. After the repulsion passed and a few not funny jokes were exchanged about what The Kid had for dinner the night before.... His friend outlined our next move.

2 hours later, I called Coach:

Me: So what are we doing about this cr@p (literally)?

Coach: Well... I don't know? Do you think I should make a few phone calls?

Me: I think we should do SOMETHING. We cannot live in a Porta Potty. I assume that's not healthy.

Coach: Well... I could call the plumber back. See if we can't get a temporary fix. Do you want me to do that for you? (He said, with the calmness of someone who just offered to pick up milk from the store.)

Me: I would LIKE you to send me to a hotel suite in Florida. But if that's not gonna work, then yes... I would LIKE you to call the plumber FOR ME so we are no longer living above toxic waste (literally.)

Coach: Ok. I'll call. In the meantime, they said I could pick up some Lyme? or something, to throw on the mess. Should I do that?

Me: Yes. I think you should do that. Again, I do not think, we should continue to live in a giant out-house.

(I LOVE how relaxed Coach is treating this obviously emergent situation, as if we have the option of routinely tramping across the street, to The Brides Father's to 'excuse ourselves'.)

Upon, hearing about our situation, Flag girl giggled that we seem to have some guy named Bad Luck Charlie or Doomsday Dan (I can't recall the exact name)... floating in a cloud above our home. Upon further review, I would guess Doomsday Dan is actually squatting in our attic and (literally) dumping on us a few times, each day.

In Conclusion:
It appears, we are collectively Giving Up for Lent:

* Any and all Savings, as we know it.
* The ability to ever again, entertain friends, without their whispering our home is (literally) a $hit Hole.
* The idea, that my blog could ever be published as an inspirational and happy Tell-all of a cute family of Five, NOT actually living above their own filth.

Signing off,
Tru Stories from the Number Two... 22 Floor.

PS: Also...I am seriously, getting down in the dumps, that my opportunity of attending The Oprah Show is just another pipe dream.
Sometimes, there are not enough scented candles in the world, to mask how Life can Stink. (literally)

If life was a Seesaw....

This afternoon, while training hard-core on the treadmill (laying on my couch) I was reading an issue of Newsweek (US magazine).
While absorbing a page committed to the crisis in Libya (Hot Pics on Kid's Posh Purses) I discovered Angelina Jolie's 6 yr old daughter owns a $1,295 Valentino bag.

Without a trace of dramatics, I can admit, twice each year, my belly flips a little over the extravagance of purchasing a $42 purse from JCPenny's.

If life was a seesaw,
my end feels a little unfairly heavy.

Ok, I guess it's my Turn.

Everyone and their mother (not mine... she blogs about books) but everyone else... has blogged about their 'Kick-off into Training'. Yada, Yada.

Long time Followers- you'll remember I barely semi-pretended to become a Runner, last summer.
My mission, stopped faaaaar short of successful.
Therefore, "if you are an embarrassing loser/failure to your son once.... try, try again".

This summer, I have officially committed to 2 Races.
With a possible third in May.

Per our Super Fun tradition: The 4th of July 5Mile.
Obviously, One cannot celebrate our Nation's birthday, without suffering a near heat stroke and moments which will forever label you... "The Aunt that Swears".

Next, we registered for The Warrior Dash.
Duh... why wouldn't I??
Have you ever met a person, more Warrior-ish?
Jumping over fire? Love it! Running through rivers??
Why the heck not?! I probably only change my wet socks 4 times, while bathing the girls. Crawling under barbed wire, in the mud? Sounds amazing! Paying $70 uncharitable entry fee, to possibly seriously harm myself... Makes complete sense!
All while running from one awesome obstacle to another, with unabashed exhilaration?? I can think of no other way, to spend my summer Saturday. Honestly! I definitely would Not rather spend an afternoon in a chlorinated swimming pool. No thanks...
Bring on the Mud!
(If there were an Official Sarcasm font and/or color, I would lace this entire post, in it's glory.)
Like my other (idiots) friends and family, I have kicked my work-outs into High.Hard-Core.Gear.

February 22nd: Spent 1 hr on Amazon, reading Mommy Comments and selecting the perfect double jogging stroller. Took a mini-nap on the couch, after my eyes got computer tired.

February 27th: Laid in bed, eating microwave popcorn, as I supervised Coach constructing jogging stroller, on our floor. Laughed after the fully-assembled stroller would not fit out of the bedroom door.

February 28th: Canceled my only exercise (Yoga) to take our children to the Aquarium and out for pasta.

March 2nd: White Trash DVR'd the lame infomercial on Kettle Ball, while faking my first go... at our Wal-mart purchased 15 lb Kettle Ball. Quit after 13 minutes, due to painful screams from my confused back muscles.

March 3rd: Piled kids into jogging stroller. Walked 1 block, sat on the floor watching Coach play basketball. Got bored. Walked 1 block, back home.

March 4th: Ordered bacon-cheeseburger pizza. Inhaled, as if I would never be fed again, while Sweetbreads shuddered in disgust, at my gluttony.

March 5th: Took a 3 hr nap.

March 6th: Took a 2 hr nap.

March 8th: Got my hair done.

Right on schedule. Now... I downloaded this Training Program off the Internet from experts.
It is not for the faint of heart. Proceed with caution.
I am Warrior... Hear me Roar!!

I am so very sorry....

if my mid-afternoon screams startled you. My wayward children did not rush the street. No, I was not mugged while checking my mail. I was dramatically surprised. And my emotions got the best of me.
For this very afternoon,
I found Spring.



I have no idea the type of flower. I do not care. No matter. They will look perfectly adorable, blooming with the still-strung Christmas lights, as their backdrop.

Bye-Bye Winter.
Very kindly, Bleep off.

She really is SO Gross!

On Friday evening, Coco located The Kid's deodorant (no, he does not actually need deodorant just yet... but he wants to be like Coach.) It was Old Spice Aqua Reef. She smeared it on her face, her Dora doll, she dug her fingers in it and probably... she ate a little.

On Saturday, she quickly monkey-climbed Coach's bed side. And did the same, to his Old Spice Pure Sport. Including, a thick layer on the dresser... insuring our Ikea nightstand will never sweat again.

The real question remains....

Which do you think tastes better?
Aqua Reef or Pure Sport?

I Heart Winter so Berry Much, I Neber Want it to End.

It is snowing. In March.
How lovely....

'Opening Day' Scheduling Difficulties..

Per Usual, our Family likes to create Holiday-Bonanza-worthy events out of otherwise, fairly normal occasions. "Opening Day"... for example.
After receiving our Formal Texted Invite,
Coach 'Favorited' his Cubbie HomePage, to discover,
Yes... Opening Day is on a Friday afternoon.

Coach:
Man... it really is at 1:20pm on a Friday. What am I gonna do? I'm gonna have to take a day off work. (Groan and expletives.)

Me: (The silence of someone ignoring their husband.)

Coach:
It would really be way better, if they had it on
April 4th. When I am already off.

Me:
Maybe you should call the Cubs Organization
and see if they can reschedule?

Coach:
I'm thinkin about it.....


And he was sorta, not kidding.

Another Day at The Shedd.

One year ago, we purchased the Family Pass at the Aquarium. Yesterday, we made our 3rd trip in eleven months. (At this point, it's like they are paying us!) The fish have lost a bit of their mystique for me...
but definitely not for our children.



Tink's Faborite Moment?
The Dolphin show! This is Tink's 'Happy Face'.



The Kid's Faborite Moment?
Learning even more, ridiculously unnecessary facts on every Shark imaginable. AND... skipping school.

Coco's Faborite Moment?
On the drive up, we hit the McDonald's Drive Thru. Always, the bright point of Coco's week. Even more, she received a new Happy Meal Barbie, which she clutched in her chubby little hand... All. Day. Long.







Coach's Faborite Moment... Part A:
After snapping the picture below, I was reprimanded by a Shedd Employee for using flash photography. Apparently, Coach enjoys when I get in trouble.
But come on... I have to properly document our every move, for blog sakes!



Coach's Faborite Moment... Part B:
When I explained, this is our last trip to the Aquarium for 2 years, at minimum.

His Least Faborite?
When The Kid, enthusiastically requested we purchase a Family Pass at the Field Museum next.
I think, I saw Coach cry, a little.