The Chain Gang.

Many may assume, Basketball is Coach's most favorite season. And while the answer would be ... Yes, he really hearts the bejesus out of Basketball:
the taste of the ball, the glare of the bright gym lights. His most Favorite SEASON? Hands down, Football.
Many forget, Coach was not a bad lil running back.
(All Conference. Twice. Thank-you.)
The very moment, the Summer air turns a bit crisper. Our home's location, becomes his most beloved selling point. Football Friday, baby... nothing better.

Two weeks ago, after he had picked up Three from practice, Coach returned home all juiced up on his nephew's excitement.
Coach commented (Deep Thought Alert!): I just do not understand why EVERYONE would not want to play football?! It is the only sport, like this. You are only guaranteed 4 years of football. You can play basketball on leagues until your knees go... you can play softball until you're forty (I quietly responded with a huge eye roll and pointed stare)... you can golf, until you are dead! But you only get 4 years of real football. Man, even when Three got in my truck... I missed the awful smell of the dirty football pads!


We like to turn every Friday evening into a party. We all meet at the house. Coach tries on old jerseys (kidding, sorta). We walk together to the stadium. (Nice and too early so Flag Girl doesn't miss a second of Three's cute warm-ups!) I order my pop corn, Diet and Peanut M & M's. It's an event.
Friday evening. Two games (JV and Varsity).
Nothing better.
This past Friday. With his large and in-charge smiley family section standing and wildly clapping... we were honored (I almost cried) to watch our 15 year old Three, start in his First Varsity Football Game.
We would not have missed it, for anything.

(A notmuchlongerinjured Two and Varsity Three)

Seriously... how cute is that pic? I'm like a crazed (super annoying) nature photographer, trying to capture the perfect snap of our boys.
We eagerly await the medical release of the Senior Two, to join his cousin. Coach cannot get enough of his kinfolk on that field.

This Friday's game is Away. I had sorta considered missing a few Away games. Except, Three excitedly (nearly everything he says is excitedly!) swore to me that I just HAD to go... because he had a great game against them last year.
And Darn-it if I am not still easy persuaded,
by a cute football player!
FYI- Unanimous vote, Three is a teeny bit cuter wearing the black socks, than the white.

Video Killed The Radio Star.

It may surprise many to learn, Coach and I are totally old school. And not just 'old school awesome'... but seriously lacking in any modern perks. We totally rock the DVR and Streaming Netflix pretty hard but it took us years to follow the pack. Most irritating to The Commish, has been our resistance to fiddle with this whole iTunes fad. Neither of us own an ipod and while we have both purchased new phones in the past 10 months... we opted against iphones.
(It's too hard to text on those silly touch screens!)



The Kid, earned a gently used 3rd Generation Ipod. Yesterday, after 32 hours on CONSTANT nagging, I sat down at the computer. Forced to go it alone (bleepin Commish and Chili did not answer my desperate calls) I successfully....
Opened an iTunes account and attached our Paypal.
Questioned, studied and finally understood what Apps were and how to locate those in the 'App Store'.
Synced up "Megan's" old Ipod to our computer. Connected it to iTunes. Upgraded it to a 4th Generation. Began scrolling and purchasing apps and downloaded 160 songs to his ipod.
The entire process took more than 4 hours.
Briefly, I lost my cool. I yelled at The Kid to 'just go play basketball like kids used to do!'
I refused to order apps to 'dumb down his brain'. I carefully edited the song collection. I threatened no less than 6 times, to open his account whenever I want and if he ever purchased ANYTHING... he would lose it for a month.
I sent a text, bragging of my awesomeness.
The Commish called...
Me: Hello.

Commish: Congratulations... somewhere, in the Apple corporate headquarters, a group of executives are popping open champagne and high-fiving each other, because the massive ticker on the wall, shows that FINALLY the very last person on Earth... opened an iTunes account.

Me (laughter)

Commish: Can you believe how simple it is?

Me: I guess it is now, after I finally figured it out.

Commish: Yeah, its actually SUPER easy. They designed it that way, so every child, adult or idiot, in the entire country, could download music over the last 10 years. And finally, now you joined the club.

No worrys. An Ipod will not actually 'cool-up' our son. Commish asked, if I downloaded any good games. Um.. I allowed The Kid two idiot games.
Then, I choose the following Apps:
On This Date in History
The Smithsonian
Sharks
Beatles Love
Pocket Penguins
Ranger: The National Park Finder
History Pin
The Astronaut App
NBA Jams
Maps of the World
Sky View: now in the Universe.

The Commish replied:
Good idea. He's definitely not nerdy enough already.

Your First Birthday....

... of the rest of your life.
Two weeks ago, my cousin (and sister-in-law) welcomed her third baby. As with any new baby, Jackie has endured a few sleepless nights. And while she may wake this morning, under-rested and feeling drained (literally)... this morning, she will also wake feeling grateful and heart-Full.
As this is her First Birthday, her first official holiday, as a mother to three very beautiful girls.



Despite every Math class, a woman may take. There are moments, circumstances, instances, where 2 + 1 DOES NOT = Three. Those particular moments, occur as a mother to three children. While I am certainly not an expert or an authority on mothering three children (NOT news to those who follow my blog...) but I have a small head start and therefore, bits of insight into this crazi-ness.

While a person, may have a fairly decent handle on two children. Adding just one more tiny life into the mix, feels a little like adding five more! For Example, Just adding ONE more baby, really means adding....

An additional 57 minutes prep time, to leave the home for any event. Let's just pretend you have easily nursed, diapered, burp rag-ed and lotioned the infant. You quietly place your tiny ball of baby, into the car seat without issue. You stand victorious and declare "Time to Go!"... suddenly realizing your eldest child, has been waiting on the porch. He got distracted by an ant trail and followed the trail into the garden. His shoes and jeans are now covered in mud. You yell for him to get inside and change. He races inside, forgetting to remove his shoes and leaves mud prints all over the carpet. You attempt to quickly wipe those up and accidentally get mud on your shirt. You deep sigh and run to change. You can't find anything that fits (because you have given birth to three children and are reminded how your very body has housed and nourished those lives... while your husband did NEXT TO NOTHING!!) finally choosing a top you don't even like, feeling attractively defeated. Your eldest is ready, you grab the car seat and turn to find Child #2 quietly standing near the couch. She's the good one! You quickly realize, she was standing quietly because she just pooped her diaper. Put down the car seat, grab Child Two, change her diaper. She won't lay still and just like that!! You have to change HER outfit. Her clothes are super cute, so it's easy to pick an outfit. Except she HATES that shirt and she will NEBER wear those shoes. Twelve sweaty minutes later, you are again ready to leave... Unfortunately, Child #1 got distracted in his room and hasn't put on his shoes. You yell again, waking The Baby. She starts fussing (because 50 WHOLE minutes have passed since she nursed) you hope she will fall asleep in the van and head for the door. Except, her crying causes your milk to drop. And again... you have to change your top. But at this point, you may as well nurse her. You decide to play a movie for the older kids to keep them clean and behaved. But OF COURSE they can not agree to watch the same movie. You are getting a headache, the baby is crying, you have soaked your shirt, Child #2 wants a Capri Sun... you HATE and ENVY your husband for having a job, out of the house (remind yourself not to strangle him as he cheerfully returns home and sings "How was your day!?"). You resist the overwhelming urge not to flop to the floor and cry. Unhook Baby from the car seat AND just like that...
you did NOT make it to the grocery store.
The outfit changes have created an even taller pile of laundry and you'll have to order pizza for dinner, causing you to feel like a failed housewife, who never cooks a decent meal.
And while this scenario, may play out repeatedly for 2 years, there is honestly WAY more good, than bad. You will never have enough hands, to hold all three as you cross the street. You will never, have enough quiet opportunities to look deep into their eyes and appreciate their beauty. You will never master the art of "Looking at ME!" as they each perform something amazing, during their separate swim lessons. At times, the guilt of not loving each their individual and deserved amount, will swallow your heart whole.

That said, on my first holiday, following the birth of Coco... I had never felt more at peace. To know, I had created three beautiful, healthy, perfect lives. To know (God-willing) those lives will grow into beautiful, healthy, perfect adults. That one day, they will come home to fill our holiday table with their own children and to watch your 3 grown babies laugh and share stories, as friends! Would be the greatest gift.

My birthday wish for my cousin,
I hope 3 sweet little girls, rush into your bedroom. I hope they giggled as they gave you a small birthday gift, or card. I hope you had a moment, to look at your husband and feel grateful for what you both have created (though you did at least 98% of the 'creating' work). I hope you feel whole. Happy. And Complete.

You are a wonderful mother.
Happy Birthday, little cousin.

My Daughters.... Part Deux.

(A continuation....)
This morning, I was rushing to get ready for my yoga class. I decided to smear on a quick layer of blend-able tinted base. As I began applying, I noticed the make-up seemed just a little creamier. More moisturizing.
I found this odd but hardly noticed, as this is a new brand and as previously stated, I was in a hurry.
Just as I had finished the application and proceeded to swipe on some lip gloss.... a flash of a blurry memory, swept through my mind...

Tink.
Yelling something about Coco having my make-up... when did she say that??? Oh... Wait. I remember... Tink said Coco was playing with my make-up, while Tink had her pants around her ankles.

Oh, Gawd. Noooo.
That's why Coco had her hands in the toilet.
She wasn't just trying to touch Tink's pee water...
Son of a bleep...
Coco was scooping my make-up, out of the toilet.

I hesitated for a brief moment, while the realization of this information sunk deep into my conciseness. I just applied Tink's pee water make-up to my face. (courtesy of Coco's advanced chemistry skills.)
I should pause and wash my face.
Except. I'm really running late.
So... I left the house.
Hours later, I am still wearing the make-up.

Thank-you Coach, for helping keep me very comfortable, in this glamorous life, I have grown accustomed too. I am a real life Cinderella.

My Daughters.....

Set Scene:
Afternoon, during what could have been our quiet nap time/Tink's school time.
Tink comes racing out, from the back bathroom
(Side note: one of our toilets is AGAIN not working. My life is like a fairy tale). Shorts and panties are tight around her ankles and she can barely walk.

Tink: Coco is trying to get her hands into the toilet!!

Me: Why aren't your shorts on??

Tink: Cuz my sista is trying to stick her hands into my pee water.

Me: Did you poop, or something? Why didn't you stop and pull your pants up?

Tink (shoulder shrug and eye roll): Uhhh... I don know. Just because I'm fast.

Still standing with pants down. She continues to stare at me (like she doesn't 'get me') and lifts her one sassy hand up and knocks her hip out to the side: Uhhh... What?

Me: PULL YOUR PANTS UP!!

Tink (deep sigh and eye roll):
Alright. Ok... Man.

I then proceed to walk down the hall, to smack Coco's hands out of the toilet.

Yes, Ma'am... my girls are obviously much too gifted for the school program.

The First Day of School.

While The Kid, did look pretty cute. And was actually pretty excited to start the Fourth Grade. And I was pretty calm about the whole thing... He unfortunately was running a decent fever, accompanied with pretty awful chills. Therefore, after this extremely emotional good-bye. The Kid was off to school, only to be sent home, 3 hours later.



In addition, immediately after the above pic, Coco began a 10 minute tantrum, including a pretty firm rant: "I go to school too! I'ne big too! I not stay home! Be nice to me!"
Tink, spent a lonely afternoon at home, while exactly 98.6% of every child she has ever met, enjoyed their first day of Pre-school. Which poor Tink was very unfortunately, not accepted into.

Final Assessment:
First Day of School, pretty much a huge failure.

It's Over.

This has honestly, been the quickest summer, in memory. This, is why they say... 'your children grow up in a blink of an eye'. I swear, summer just began. Just a few weeks ago... it just happened.
Now, tomorrow morning, my boy will start the Fourth Grade. Like an ol' regular Big Kid.

So long Summer,
Thanks for the memories...
We snacked on some N'Orleans crawfish. Attended a few too many (losing) baseball games. Waved The Kid off to Basketball camp, Football camp and Golf camp.
There were stressful mornings at swim lessons and relaxing evenings on the Mansion patio. We enjoyed pool days, beach days and Carbonhill days.
We were Warriors.
We were Runners (walkers/joggers).
We were Cubs fans (cuz somebody has to be.)
People moved. Friends were married. Birthdays were celebrated. And a beautiful niece was born.
And we sweat(ed). Seriously. Because it was HOT.
In New Orleans, in Shelbyville and just in our yard.
My children were tanned, tired, cute and crabby. Some days felt like they would never end... while others ended much too quickly.

Tonight is a bummer (even if The Kid has been driving the girls crazy!) I will miss you, Summer. Though Coach is very happy to welcome Football Season.

I suppose, on the upside...
I'll have a little more free-time to blog.

A Mother and Son.

10:35pm. The Phone Rings. Coach answers.
It is his mother (Gramma).

Gramma: What game was it that you were playing blah blah blah and scored blah blah blah. Was that the game they asked you to play Varsity as a Freshman or was that the blah blah....?

Coach: I scored 42 pts at blah blah during my sophomore year the freshman game I scored blah blah, during blah blah quarter...

(Conversation continues for several minutes..)

Gramma: Ok... me and dad were just having a debate about which game they blah blah Varsity blah blah... points scored... blah blah... you are amazing blah... so glad you are my superstar son blah blah...

Coach: I really AM amazing.. blah... call anytime to talk about my awesomeness... blah... I remember every single basket, as if those moments were the greatest of my life.. blah.

I interrupt from the corner:
Why don't you ask you mother, to ask you...if you can remember on what evening, our garbage man picks up our garbage, on the same night each and every week.... I'll bet that detail, escapes your memory.

They laugh and giggle about how sarcastic I am!! Ha... your wife is amusing... blah... she's no star like you... blah. Thanks again for being born, son... you are our shining light... blah.. blah.

They hang up.

Coach re-enters the room:
Weird, of mom to be the one, to call about that.

Me: You know what's really weird? Usually, when a 66 year old parent calls a child's home after 10:35pm, on a week night... it's to tell them someone died.
NOT to discuss their high school basketball game.

Obviously, Coco has Been Jerking Me Around for Months....

Our Grade School, holds a State Funded Pre-School program. A portion of spots are granted to children at need and other spots are open to all children (though getting your child on this list, has become like the Harvard of Preschools.) Poor Tink, is fighting for one of the very last spots and it is NOT lookin good.
(Much to my disappointment.)
Therefore, to get a jump on next year, I scheduled Coco a screening this afternoon. Totally confident, the child who tried eating deodorant THREE times, would be a Sure Thing for Pre-School class of 2012.
I sat quietly in the corner. Just waiting for her to
'Be her Coco-self'. Instead, that sneaky little brat, scored in the Extremely Advanced Category. In fact, TWICE the Professional Child Therapist/Specialist from out of town, actually said...
"I have NEVER seen a child, this young, even close to doing this before!".

WHAT?!! Seriously??
Coco didn't so much, as lick a block. Actually, she stacked 12 blocks perfectly. She scored OFF THE CHARTS for her Fine Motor Skills and Communication. And just plain Advanced, in the other 4 categories.

I am baffled. Honestly. I feel like I just found out the dorky Clark Kent, is Superman.
Coco prefers to snack on sand, over playground pebbles. She rips off her T-shirt, yanks out her ponytail and walks around rubbing her chunky belly. She mixes Ranch Dressing and Ketchup. She will randomly kick her sista in the head, for no reason. And as I type, Coco is watching "Max and Ruby" with her sunglasses on, upside-down in our dark living room. Yet... they used the phrase, "Extremely Advanced."

I am seriously, starting to think, my children are messing with me. My entire existence as a mother, must be secretly getting video-taped for the Greatest Prank reality show of all times. Tentatively Entitled:
"Let's Pretend to Be Huge Messes while Slowly Driving our Mother Insane!!"
Shocked and confused, I called Coach, to tell him how our youngest daughter has been screwing with me for months. I told him, her motor skills were unchartable... he replied "Welp, sorry. Guess that's my fault." Given that Coach is as romantically articulate as a 6 year old... I'm not even pretending to give him credit for her communication skills.

Ok... YES, I am happy she is doing so well. That said... I am ending the typing of this post, at this very moment, to find out why I can hear my Super Genius splashing in the back toilet. She's probably dipping her Super Advanced Pacifier in, for a taste....

Really Stupid Things Coach has Recently Said to Me:

in the days before and following the birth of Baby 14...

1.) "Ummm... don't you really think, we have enough going on with the three kids we already can't handle??"

2.) "No. I will not buy you a plane ticket to Ethiopia, to find a little girl that looks just like Angelina Jolie's adopted daughter."

3.) "No. A reversal than reversal than reversal... Do you know what that does to a man??!!"

4.) "No. I will not help you kidnap Asher."

5.) I said, while holding Fourteen: "She is really so beautiful, I literally want to suck her tiny cheeks and mouth up into my face."
Stupid Coach responded: "Maybe you should not just say everything out loud and should keep that to yourself." ... Super Rude of him.

6.) "No. We do not have a secret savings account with $120,000.00 to hire a surrogate."

7.) "No... just because I do not want a new baby, does not mean I want to buy two little puppies and smell the back of their ears."

8.) "Watching you hold Fourteen, makes me want to drive the 20 minutes, to high-five my doctor."

FYI- My husband is a jerk... AND I held Fourteen for hours today and she is unbelievably beautiful.

Girls, Girls, Girls!!

After a busy day, of becoming Big Sistas, New Big cousins and for poor Coco, being knocked off her "Baby of the Family Pedestal"... made for some happy but sleepy little girls.



You'll notice a missing Coco. We snuck her into our bed. She was excited for the mom and daddy time but could have done without her mother attempting to swaddle and snuggle her into a tiny baby ball.
I asked her if she was still Mommy's Baby.
She smacked me and yelled:
"Stop Smatching Me!"

After Attentive Aunt provided a healthy breakfast of whole grain muffins and grapefruit (Lucky Charms and Cookie Crisps) we got ready for Jump Rope practice.
Tink and Eleven were SUPER adorable! Double Dutching or whatever the moves are. (MAYBE, Six and The Kid, also did the jump rope... but ONLY to prep for basketball! Seriously, that's it! Stop talking about it. Don't look at me like that!! Stop finger Pointing!)





How sweet is Twelve? (Oh... by the way Commish, she nose dived during jump rope. Sorry!)

We returned back home, for a Fashion Shot Spread for a popular Magazine called:
My Stupid Aunt Forces us to Wear Matching Clothing.







Coco dubbed the above picture:
"I am over cousin time, stop hugging me SO close! We are NOT those kind of people!"

And just because 24 hours with 2 extra cousins, was not nearly enough, I was excited to be promoted to Nine's Professional Cheer leading Hair Dresser (obviously, because of MY Cheerleading experience!)

As we walked out, Nine said to me:
"I think this uniform makes me look fat."

(I think.... her daddy is in trouble.)
Because JUST LOOK at this beauty....
That's stupid ridiculous.



End Result:
My Baby Fever dimmed slightly.
NOT because of the mess from 5 children. Or the food for five children. Or the diapers, noise, Cartoon arguments... only one little thing, made me feel extra comfy with our current pack of three:
Do you have ANY idea, how obnoxious it is, to buckle up FOUR car seats and one seat belt, just to drive 6 blocks? Not cool.

Even so: How cute are all those girls?!

Introducing....

Baby Number Fourteen.
Her given name is much sweeter...
(and probably just made her Warhol's favorite niece).
She was sleepy and warm and totally sniffable..
Especially after her Big Sis, gave her a bath.



Smelling her Baby Magic goodness (and the below picture) made my Baby Fever spike high.



Alas, our home is buzzing with the squeals of our three children, plus two new big sistas. Maybe 24 hours with 5 children, will help cool that fever.
The family is overJoyed..
Fourteen is a happy number...
we could easily fit a couple more.

Babies really are a magical miracle.
Welcome to the world, Fourteen.
You are a very blessed baby:
Your life will be beautifully filled with love.
Full of butterfly kisses and soft snuggles.
And one creepy head-sniffing Aunt.
We wish you a very special Happy Birth Day.

Fourteen. (14) Quatorze. Catorce.

Sorta like 13 Plus One more.
Or 6 of one thing and 8 of another.
Why would I care about that number?

Is it my fourteenth wedding anniversary?
Is today the 14th of August?
The fourteenth month of the year?



Can you guess...
why we are so excited,
thinking of the number 14 today?

Yoga Relaxation- Inside My Head

This past weekend, I attended two yoga workshops. I am very rarely, a student (rather than an instructor) in a yoga class. It was a nice and relaxing change. However, you can't help but notice little things, when left in your own silence. (i.e. The heavy breathing of the person next to you.) Most noticeable, the teacher did not use music. As a result, during Relaxation, you are left to your thoughts.
I know, I know... You are supposed to release into the silence. Completely clear the mind. Just let the body 'Beeee.' All easier said than done. I am a famously, Unrelaxed mind. I think, I worry, I ponder.... This particular class, held Relaxation for Twelve Long Silent Minutes. This was the silent mess inside my head:

_______________________________________

Ok. Deep breath. Clear the thoughts....Be quiet... ugh, why is that guy breathing so loud? Is that what my breathing sounds like? Ok... seriously. Quiet. Quiet. Alright, how about a prayer..

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread....

Bread.... I am STARVING! I should stop by Panera, since I am in town. I wonder if they have a drive-thru. It would be pretty hard to eat soup in the new van. I shouldn't order soup, anyway. It's only good if I get it with bread. God knows, I would look better in a swim suit if I would stay the bleep away from bread... I wonder if my mom took the kids swimming today?? Probably. Then Coach won't even have to watch the kids... he never has to watch the kids... I am with them all freakin day and then he goes and plays 6 softball games in one week! and....
Ok. Wait. Settle it down.
Deep breath. Why is it SO quiet in here? And freezing? I am seriously freezing. Warhol would probably love it if my class were this cold. At least they pass out blankets. I wish I could afford to have blankets and block for everyone in my studio. Except, I wonder how often they wash these?? What if they have bedbugs?? That Law and Order with the bedbugs was freaky! Where is their washer and dryer anyway? They would have to drag 25 thick blankets up and down stairs... Maybe I don't want blankets.
Except..... I want music!
Would a little Enya kill anyone?
Ok, try praying again...
Where did I stop?

Bread.. oh, Panera. Daily bread... and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass... Oh, forget it. How about a little Gratefulness...

I am grateful for my healthy children.
For my intelligent son.
For my tiny Tink.
For my happy Coco, except she is so gross. But super beautiful. We should take another family picture. Maybe I should stop by Target and for dresses...
How long is this relaxation??? Jenny Hogan would lose her mind, if I held my relaxation this long. Come on! You complain about the noise of the kids ALL the time. Quiet your stupid mind! Quiet... Quiet...
I think my stomach is gonna growl. I hope it's not loud. I totally feel it coming. What if it is like echo off the walls kind of loud?! I am so hungry.... I should drive-thru somewhere. Nobody is gonna hear my stomach over that guy's 'Prana' breathing.

It's gotta be almost over. But then they are gonna chant. Chanting makes me want to roll my eyes and laugh at the same time.... I sorta feel like laughing now. What if I did? What if I just crazy laughed right now? What if I just yelled out?! Super loud. Like I told One, I was gonna do at his graduation. I totally should have done that. It would have been awesome....

Ok... almost over.
Then the chanting.
Then I can leave and eat.
What if we chanted in my class?
Sweetbreads would probably stop coming.
I like her hair....

... I am grateful for my yoga practice. I am grateful, I own a home. What if I were homeless? I am such a jerk, complaining about Panera. What if I couldn't afford to eat? I'm hungry. What if we were homeless?... I should make dentist appts for the kids. Well, first doctors appts. I should do that before school starts... I could get them new clothes at Target.
We need toilet paper.

________________________________________

Etc. Etc. Etc.
And that... honestly..
Was probably just the first 3 minutes.

Let's take a little hike...

This week, we set aside One Official Family Day and took the kids on a hike. The Kid (and his father) loved the 'mountain climbing'... Tink looked like a teenager in her tiny white shorts and Coco closed the afternoon, splashing in the water... in only a diaper.















It was a nice day.
I can feel summer... sadly ticking away.

Just For Laughs...

Coach received a chain email, with completely inappropriate and offensive jokes. Most were not suitable for this nice family blog... but here's a few.

* I'd just come out of the shop with a meat and potato pie, chips & a jumbo sausage. A poor homeless man on the curb, said 'I've not eaten for two days.'
I told him 'Man.. I wish I had your will power.'

* Snow in the forecast! The TV weather gal said she was 'expecting 8 inches tonight.'
I thought to myself, 'fat chance with a face like that!'

* Man in a hot air balloon is lost over Ireland . He looks down and sees a farmer in the field and shouts to him "Where am I?"
The Irish farmer looks up and shouts back.
"You're in that feckin basket."

And Last...

* A fat girl served me in McDonald's at lunch time. She said "Sorry about the wait."
I said to her, "Don't worry Fatty...
you're bound to lose it, eventually."

Forty and Fabulous????

Absofreakinlutely!



Doc is my aging-gracefully inspiration. She is literally growing more beautiful with each passing year. Possibly... because she is a healthy/lovin life/running for fun kind of girl. Or, basking in the love of her forever smitten husband. Or because her children are perfect angels.... who would never eat deodorant or put on glue-stick as lipstick.
Doc is the sweetest fine-wine. Perfecting her delectable awesomeness, as she slowly becomes more irresistible to her friends and family. Seriously.... WHO the heck, does not like being around Doc??!

The only thing, I do not like about my sister-in-law??
Her blog name. It really does perfectly suit her. Every member of her family (and then some) Tru-ly believes Doc is a board certified Doctor. They will call her for any medical question, day or night. Major injuries? Worries about our babies? Correct Tylenol dosage? She is The Go-To girl.
I won't change her blog-name. But I would love Edit, just a smidge. In honor, of Doc's Big Four-Oh... I thought we should play a little game.
PS- Doc really loves to play (win) a great game.

Use the Comments, to create the perfect Grey's Anatomy-style nickname for our Homecoming Queen. For example:

Doctor McPiercing Eyes

Doctor McAnnoyinglyCompetitive (kidding!)

Doctor McGiggles

Doctor McHighFiveuntilshedrivesmeCraZy.

Ok... Game on!
Happy Birthday, Doc. For your gift, you just may receive an even cooler Blog Name.
We seriously Heart You.
Hey.. what you wanna do?
I think I could stay with you
For a while, maybe longer if I do....