Flashback

This first picture seems like five minutes ago.

I can still hear their little voices in my head.  Dylan used to carry around that stretchy lizard everywhere.

Aliya was and still is my biggest helper.

Daymon was and still is my baby.  But I can't call him that.

These pictures make me laugh and cry at the same time.  

It all goes way too fast.

Dylan (2 1/2) Aliya (4) Daymon (1) 

Dylan (11) Aliya (12 1/2) Daymon (9)

Happy {heart shape} Day!!

Aliya would not let me make one for her.

How else will all her teachers know that I am a loving committed mother who takes time out of my busy day to make sure my kids look exactly right and yell until they do or we are not leaving this park, and that I'm quirky and creative and didn't do the Sponge Bob valentines but instead did something unique and worked on getting the suckers in instead of making dinner because you can get something on your own, we have left overs, can't you see I'm busy making your childhood memories over here! and how else can all the other moms feel bad about themselves if I don't over achieve??

{disclaimer:  I do not, in fact, want any moms to ever feel bad about themselves for any reason at all.  Ever.  Even for laughs on my blog.  I've thought about it.  But in the end logic won out.  I love you all.  Smooches!}

What's with all the slacking?

I just realized that my last post is dated January and it's now February and what the heck? 

So here's a look at some possible future topics:

-Dylan is taking some friends paint balling for his birthday.  Let's see what happens when you put a group of boys who play "Call of Duty" for hours on end on a field with guns.

-Valentines day!  Why it's lame to pass out cards in Junior High.  Or so I'm told.

-My birthday is around the corner so you all know what that means!  That's right!  Lots of hyperventilating, over-reacting, wrinkle finding fun!

-Did I get another tattoo? 

-I think my dog has OCD issues.  And can read my thoughts.

Do you think a post with out a picture is way too boring?  Are you anti anti picture? 

There so much better. 

Apparently a lot of people like football. And go to the games and stuff.

Some friends of ours invited us to the Insight bowl at the ASU stadium.  Usually I would rather shove bamboo under my finger nails than watch football but I really like them so I sucked it up and the night didn't suck.

Behind this head of hair is a picture so mind blowing that your head would
have literally popped off, too bad you can't see it.

But I feel the need to point out that there is a huge difference between watching football on the couch in a dark room with a half eaten bag of Doritos next to you with your pants unzipped in that for the love of all that is holy, I feel so crazy fat right now funk, and actually being around thousands of screaming drunk fans who randomly throw up and break out in unison cheer and wear black and yellow stripped overalls while wearing cheese on their heads. It was awesome!  Have you ever seen the marching band leader guy do his "strut" across the field?  The man practically defies gravity.  It's insane.  And limbo-rific.  I think the NFL needs a marching band. 

{I apologize ahead of time for the fuzzy pictures.  Unfortunately I have no excuse.} 

I pretty much watched everything besides the actual game.  The cheer leaders for instance have their own thing going on.  There are two sets.  The first one do this weird foot thing where they never actually lifted their feet off the ground, they just moved their arms and legs back and forth.  And their leg muscles were enormous.  The other set were teeny tiny girls that you could put in your pocket and they were thrown around by the burly guys and lifted into the air at whim. 

Me:  What's the deal with the two sets of cheer leaders?
Hubby:  Oh easy.  Those are for prancing, those are for throwing.

I didn't actually know who was playing until we got there.  Oklahoma and Iowa.  They seemed really intense so I was glad we were behind the  field goal in what I liked to consider the "Can't we all just get along?" section.  But then the Okies { I can call them that.  I have family there.}  knelt down to pray so I decided to mostly cheer for them.  I say mostly because I watched approximately 4.7 minutes of play time.  And they ended up winning which I think is due to the praying.  Or my cheering.  Or both.

  

Me and my friend Jenna.  Is it just me or does the lady behind my head to the right looked really shocked.

What is the guy on the left doing?  For realzz.



Me and Hubby

We also sat next the the VIP area so we observed all the important people.  I say "we" but it was mostly just me randomly poking hubby and pointing people out and asking him who they were to which he would reply "why would I know that?" and then I would reply "you look at sports stuff way more than I do, and he looks sporty, and all those people keep asking to get their picture with him so he must be somebody."

Turns out that's Darren Woodson of the Cowboys and it still means nothing to me.  But all the guys who would get their picture with him would do this really stupid thing where they would put their fist up and act all tough for the picture.  Not wanting to be left out I made hubby pose with me.  He was super happy about it

  

When we got home I kept asking hubby to throw me up in the air and hold me by my feet like this.  He kept saying no. 

He never wants to do anything I want to do.

If I get murdered while trying to lose weight it will be all hubby's fault. And also I'm hungry.

When girls who are really skinny get to be that way by not even trying and eating whatever they want I pretty much want to punch them in the face.  I mean they should at least have to swallow 16 cotton balls each morning and stab pencils into their thighs to distract from the hunger pains. 

I was told I was "pre-diabetic" which is code for "you suck you big fat fatty, stop eating junk food and by the way, no more joy."

I pouted and cried for two days.  A lot.

Me:  What the heck?  I already have a jerk of a voice in my head telling me how much I suck, I don't need an eighty pound girl telling me she would "like to see me exercise more".  She has no idea!  *waiving donut in the air* 

Hubby:  Well, maybe this will be good, it will get us motivated to move.

Me:  Is this one of those times when you say "we" but it's really just "me"?

Hubby:  I only do that with the dishes.  And ironing.

So I stopped eating all sugar and started counting calories which are really sneaky little things and totally everywhere.  In Cairo calories are called "energy" and honestly that just sounds much more appealing and a whole lot less mean.  My Snickers bar has 320 energy!  Yay me!

So everything was going super great, besides the whole wanting to strangle anyone holding chocolate, and then I heard about my friends dog having a collapsed trachea and now I can't exercise ever again. 

The end. 

Oh fine, I'll spell it out.

So, apparently this is a common problem with dogs and I couldn't figure out why and then it hit me, the leash!  Walking your dog puts pressure on their trachea and it can cause it to collapse.  I have been walking our dog a whole lot lately due to my new-ish fitness craze and have inadvertently been putting him at death's door. 

Me: Clearly I can no longer go for walks.  It is what is best for the safety and well being of our dear family pet.  And because he keeps me safe from serial killers and terrorists well, I don't think I need to state the obvious. Anymore than I already have.  I think my eye is twitching. 

Hubby:  Or. . .you could just get him a harness. 

Me:  .......OR, I could sit on the couch and read my ridiculously good book and eat my low energy popcorn and save my dog's life. 

It's like my good deeds go completely unnoticed around here.

Just call it what it is. Blog constipation.

I have some backed up posts.

Not as bad as backed up poop, but almost.

It makes me all fidgety and squirmy and do the indecisive hop on one foot dance in front of the medicine cabinet trying to decide if I want to just give in and take the laxative.  The one that kind of works but takes forever and sometimes causes cramps and do you see how I'm trying to draw a parallel between my somewhat okay posts, the ones that may cause some cramping and the ones that actually do the job right the first time and just unclog everything at once leaving nothing but pure satisfaction and a smile? 

Because the ones I really want to post need pictures and those are on the laptop that isn't working. 

So. . .

*kicks dirt*

You could go to another blog.  But we both know that this is a loving committed relationship and that my devotion to you is unswerving. 

And I know that I sometimes talk about poop but I can change! 

Oh, who am I kidding. 

Poop is funny. 

And I have boys. 

Maybe if I had only had girls.

But, no, even then I would have been doomed.

Hubby has this thing about wanting to describe it to me in detail to the point of even sending me texts about his daily successful bowel movements and well, I won't drag you into it, but let's just agree that "us" is too important to lose sight of.

While I may be a little backed up at the moment soon things will be fixed and moving right along. 

I meant the computer.

I feel sweaty now.

I'm gonna go.  Not "go"go.  Just go.

Okay, I don't mean to be all over analytical about our relationship and at the risk of sounding clingy, there is no one I would rather out run the zombie apocalypse with than you. 

There I said it.

With that in mind you can pretty much overlook anything can't you.  Even, dare I say it, poop.

We're so mature!  So grown up!  Okay, enough, I really do have to go now.  And I do mean go. 

wink wink.

a post wherin I describe the best way to become the owner of two iPods that don't work

Our darling daughter wanted an iPod touch for Christmas and seeing as how she "misplaced" the one we got her when she turned eleven, we decided to go the Craigslist rout.  Because Craigslist is super reliable and safe and not at all shady.

I was the one looking through page after page of posts and then texting hubby my findings and the numbers. 

Mistake number one was not realizing that there is a difference between an iPod touch first generation and a fourth generation.  In my mind the fourth is older, right?  Um, no. 

So I was all about finding my daughter a first generation because only the best for my offspring.  And surprisingly they were cheaper!  What a deal! 

So hubby set off across town, and I do mean across town, and met liar number one at a gas station.  How sweet of the man to meet him so hubby wouldn't have to drive as far.  Gee, don't you just want to hug him.  But it wouldn't turn on.  So hubby went out and bought an adapter to make sure it worked and it did turn on but needed to be syncned to iTunes.  Well we could live with that.  Only when he got it home it wouldn't do anything.  At all.  Nothing.   

So I keep looking and looking and find another "deal".

Hubby: Hi, do you still have the iPod?

Indistinguishable male/female: liuisd,fsj,n

Hubby: ......

Hubby: I'm sorry did you say yes?

He/She: soifdoilkarejkmn. {possibly speaking through a machine.  Like Steven Hawking.  Only less genius like.}

Hubby:  I think our signal is bad.

He/She:  IshedIthinolgklgklkn.  cough. 

Hubby:  I'm going to hang up and call back and see if the signal improves.

A kid picked up the next time.  And they did have it.  And possibly a robot guardian.

Another gas station because it couldn't go wrong two times in a row and this time it turned on. 

Only. . .that whole first generation thing means that it doesn't have speakers, it can't do NetFlix or any of the games she wants and it's about as lame as they come.  Okay. 

So, Merry Christmas baby!  Remember how you told us you wanted an iTouch?  Well here's a crappy, run down, second hand, oldest version out there!  That'll teach you to ever have a dream again.  Because we will inadvertently crush it.  And then wrap it and put a bow on it.  After meeting it at a gas station.

NOT what her's looks like.  At all.