1.  My kids are goofy.

2.  Your's probably are too.

3.  But this is my blog so if you are here then you are probably going to see a bunch of stuff about mine.  Sorry. 

4.  I have mentioned before on here that my daughter just cannot talk very clearly.  Like - at all.  Bless her little heart.  But as her mother I am able to decipher more of what she says than most people.  As her mother, I also know that there are several words that she just will not attempt for some reason - her name being one of them.  I have no idea why, but she refuses to say it.  It's a perfectly regular type name (well sort of) that other little kids are capable of saying, but she REFUSES to even try.  So it has become sort of an amusing thing for us lately to see what she answers when we ask her what her name is.  She changes the answer every so often, but for the past month her name has been...........wait for it............................

           Doctor Cassie Tiger

Yep, you heard that right folks.  I am the proud mother of one Doctor Cassie Tiger.  Of course, it's pronounced more like "Dodder Sassy Shiger"  but I speak Destruct-o-girl so I know what she's saying.  You have no idea just how fun it is to try and explain that to strangers who are trying to be polite and talk to the cute girl with the crazy hair in the checkout line at the Walmart store.

"What's your name cute girl/hon/little sweety/other cute baby girl colloquialism?".  "Dodder Sassy Shiger" (proud grin). 
(strange look)
(then I tell them what her real name is and get an even stranger look a lot of times)

Then it really gets interesting when they ask her how old she is and her reply is always "two five seven five".

I promise, one day I'll send her to preschool where maybe she can work all of this out. 

5.  Every week my son has to write a sentence for each of his 10 spelling words in his spelling notebook.  Every week my son forgets to bring his spelling notebook home and I want to beat him with a large stick.  Today when he finished up and checked over his work, I couldn't help but notice the sentence for number 6 "serve". 

          "My mom won't serve me."

Funny.  Because now I'm completely unsure of what I've been doing with myself for the past seven and a half years. 

6.  Sunni is not actually a child, but might as well be because I feed her, clean up after her, and yell at her too.  So I am soliciting advice from all of you dog lovers out there for my other baby.  She is an australian shepherd and is smart and cute and not very big yet, but boy does she wear a family out.  She has tons of energy (which we thought we were prepared for) and chews to oblivion things that I didn't even know we owned (which I can live with).  But the worst of all offenses is that she attacks our kids with love.  She's so sweet to them and lets my girl pull on her ears and sit on her and whack her in the nose for no reason, but she just jumps all over the kids.  Especially the baby.  Aaron and I have broken her from jumping on us, but I can't seem to figure out how to stop her from jumping on them if I'm not standing right beside them.  It makes playing in the back yard torture.  What do I do?!  Help!  Advice?!  New home?! (ok, kidding.    .........I think)

7.  It's hard to believe during this cool spell (that's not a thing you can say a lot in April in Mississippi), but earlier in March it was warm enough outside to play in the sprinklers.  I even saw pics on facebook of people swimming.  Apparently their pools are heated because mine will still be freezing on Memorial Day, if the past three years have been any prediction.  Fat people in skirted swimsuits and blue lips.  It's a holiday tradition. 
     Anyhow, I still have a completely blank mantle over my fireplace ever since Christmas and I've been waiting on something to inspire me, so the other day I decided to snap some pics of my kids in the sprinkler.  I thought they turned out so well that I printed them out in the small poster size, mounted them on some canvass I had and sat them on my mantle waiting to have a decorative vision.  They are no professional shots are anything, but they are natural.  Just the way I want to remember them today.
    Please let me start with a sincere thank you for all of your kind comments about yesterday's post.  I had comments here and on facebook, and I even received several text messages about it from friends who have been there.  Which I suspect as parents, most of us have at one time or another.  It's a tough plight in life to be the oldest child, because as their parents, we are just figuring it out as we go.  Learning all the hard lessons for the first time.  And doing our best.  So from the bottom of my heart, thanks for being so sweet as I use this blog to let y'all in on a little bit of our journey.

    That being said and gotten out of the way - today is a special day.  It marks the anniversary, 34 years ago, that one of the greatest people on Earth was born.  He's tall, he's smoking red hot, he's smart, he's athletic, he always takes out the trash and does all the yard work, he stayed after Charity Dinner and helped all of us ladies clean up without being asked, he can always tell when I'm on the verge and is a pro at diffusing my meltdowns, he is currently slightly obsessed with golf, he has stinky feet, he leaves his clothes all over the place, he loves me, he loves God and wants our kids to as well, he works very hard, and did I mention he is smoking red hot?

      Happy Birthday Aaron!  We love you so so so much!

    And in honor of his birthday today, I thought I would do something a little different.  There are several recent pictures of him on here already so I thought I would take today to show you some baby pictures.  And clear up once and for all who our kids look like.  Because even though I don't really believe my kids look much like one another, they ALL look like their daddy.  Prepare for your mind to be blown.

    Here, my friends, is the proof.

Little Aaron
Little Super-G
Little Aaron
Little Turnanator
Baby Aaron
Baby Destruct-o-girl
    Do you see what I'm saying to you?  Do you?  At least there is no doubt who's my baby daddy.  And since they all look like him, I guess it's a good thing he's smoking red hot :-)

Happy Birthday Aaron,
the luckiest girl alive
    So this is one of those serious type posts that I hesitate to even write, because serious type posts get awfully personal.  I know, you think it's awfully personal already when I tell you about my aversion to personal hygiene and the occasional filth level of my home.  But that kind of stuff doesn't bother me.  That's just stuff.  But private, feelings type of stuff, especially about my babies, that's what's real.  And so I'm sitting here typing, ready at any minute to just delete the whole post, because I'm not even sure where to begin.  But here goes...........

    Aaron is a fantastic athlete.  (Ha!  That's not what you expected the issue to be, was it?)  The thing is, I am not.  At. All.  I mean even a little.  I played lots of sports in my youth but only because I went to a tiny little private school and everyone had to play to have enough to make a team.  That plus all the sports kids got out of school all the time to go to games while the other jokers spent hours wasting away in study hall.  No way I was doing that! But I was so bad that just last year my grandmother was reminiscing about going to my softball games and her exact description of me as a baller was something like, "pitiful".  However, when Aaron and I got married and decided to have babies, I just assumed that "athletic genes" would be dominant so I didn't even think to worry.  Wow.  They are not. 

    I mean, our kids have some decent skills and some decent hand/eye coordination, but they are not star athletes.   And bless his heart, SuperG runs just like me.  Which means he can't run.  Even a little.  And right now is baseball season.  (by the way, I know you are already saying "seriously, THIS is this crazy woman's issue?".  Just bear with me)  The thing about baseball season starting in our new, older league, is that we are getting to the hardcore, travel ball level now.  I mean our coaches are great and all the kids are sweet, but there is beginning to be a distinct difference in the ones with skill and the ones without.  And practices get longer, and later.  Which really is fine.  Except that Aaron is not there a lot because he's at work a lot, so the three kids and I have been spending a lot of late hours at the park alone lately.  And let me tell you, it is so hard to get excited about that when you watch your kid out there struggling to keep up. 

    Just for any clarification needed at this point, I don't love my son one iota less because he isn't great at baseball or soccer.  In fact, I think he is smart and cute and funny and wonderful.  Plus he's a pretty good little golfer to only be 7 and he is playing chords with both hands at the same time on the piano already.  He's really a talented guy.  But in the past while, his dad and I have noticed that he isn't trying as hard as he should at things. And that's what has been upsetting us.  His level of talent does not upset us.  The fact that he can practice in the yard all afternoon and show improvement by leaps and bounds, and then go to the ball park and be standing backwards in the outfield because no balls are coming to him or pout when he gets out on a base.  Whew, that's just been a hard thing for us to swallow lately - especially at 8:30 on a school night while his sister is stomping in a ditch full of mud and we're all freezing. 

    Then last night it all blew up.  His attitude was not a great one, and when practice was over and most kids had already left, we realized that his brother's brand new, literally purchased one day before, ball glove had been in his ball bag and now it was gone.  Yikes.  Then when he didn't really seem upset about the fact that he wasn't even supposed to have it and he didn't keep up with it and it wasn't his to loose........Double yikes.  Needless to say, the night didn't go really well because lots of parental emotions were just exploding out of both of us (poor Aaron felt like no one appreciates anything that he works very hard to provide because everyone gets more than they could ever need. And he felt like SuperG was not doing his best when that's all we really ask for.  Not perfection.  Just his best and to care about someone other than himself.  Then I felt like I overwhelmingly can't keep up with everyone's activities and stuff and practices and AR books and homework and laundry and bedtimes and dinners and orange baseball socks without having a meltdown.  Plus I felt like I was going to suffocate with guilt because I have passed on these traits that will make life harder for him because there are things he is just not going to be great at and he will always have a hard time controlling him emotions.  Just.like.me.)  Then we went to bed and just stared up at the ceiling feeling like the worst parents in the world.  It was not a great night.

    I woke up this morning with a heavy heart about the whole thing, and I woke my baby up with hugs and kind words.  But I still couldn't shake all the feelings from last night.  Then you know what?  I spent the morning with a lady who has recently become very dear to me, and she and I discussed some of the things going on in her life.   She has some hard stuff going on right now, and honestly, she's had hard stuff her whole life.  Parents with substance abuse problems.  Homes without much love.  Fending for herself at a very young age.  Then we started discussing a child we know of right now who doesn't have a father in the picture.  Whose mother has a problem with drugs, and men.  Who lives through situations that I cannot even bring myself to think about, and oh what a little trooper he is.  Then I later began telling of the amazing adoption story of a friend.  Last Thursday night, this friend got in the bed praying for a baby, as she had fervently and painfully done for the past four years now.  And she was woken up by a call about a baby.  A tiny 2 pound 4 oz. baby that needed a family to love her.  Within the next 12 hours this friend and her husband were chosen to be the sweet baby's mommy and daddy, and in 72 hours everything was final.  They went from a place of great sadness and longing, to the happiest, most blessed couple you could ever imagine, all in what seemed like a fleeting second.  The proud parents of a thriving little angel.

    Then Aaron sent me a text. "I love you.  Last night was not great.  You ok?".  And all of a sudden that's all I could think was......I had spent the whole night consumed with emotions about the fact that my child is not exactly the person that I had planned for him to be.  That some things are not as important to him as I wish they would be, and he has some things about his personality that he will have to learn to control.  He will have to work harder than other kids if he wants to succeed in some areas.  And he lost his brother's brand new baseball glove.

    And I felt ridiculous.  What in the world do I have to be upset about?  Because he won't be just like his daddy?  Because he can't catch pop flies?  Because he lost a glove that we will probably end up getting back?  Because he has turned out to be just the person we have molded him to be, whether we intended to or not? 

    Oh thank you God for that beautiful healthy child who can make me cry when he genuinely prays.  Who can feel pain for others and not know how to control it.  Who loves to hit a golf balls and gives hugs freely and looks past disabilities and talks your head off.  And who you trusted to me to guide through life to teach what is important.  Please keep help me remember what's important.  And thank you for a little perspective.
    First and foremost, I need to start out this post with a big, huge shout-out to my dear friend Jenn, who texted me a few weeks ago and said, "can I redo your blog for you?".  Ummmm.......yeah!  Redoing the look of my blog and adding some buttons and things to make me look all cool and professional and awesome, is something I've been wanting to do for a while now.  I had actually talked to another friend about doing it at some point and even started a Pinterest board about it.  So when she just called me up about it, I knew I couldn't resist her skills and cute ideas.  Plus she and I have a special kind of friendship and love that I can't really describe, but we can go from eating dinner together five nights a week to moving far apart and never talking to two hour phone conversations with ease.  That's love.  And I know she loves me and gets me because when I told her I wanted it to look "southernish, but not country, with some cute and a touch of modern, with colors that just go", she came up with this new look.  And I love it!  So shout out to Jenn for being awesome. She has always got projects and things going on, and now she has a wedding blog that has really taken off like a shot that I would love to talk more about on here some time.  But I'm going to save that for another day when I have time to figure out things like "inserting links" and other such immensely difficult computer functions.  Seriously.  Sad is the only way to describe me. 

    I also wanted to let you know that I now have buttons for you to follow me on pinterest (the "p" button on the right if you have a pinterest account) and I am finally coming around to the twitter world.  I'm brand new and I have two followers and I follow 3 people so I am not exactly blowing it up or anything yet.  But if you want to follow me through the painful process of me figuring out yet another form of social media, then please feel free to click the "t" button over there on the right.  I'm sure most of you already knew what those buttons were - before I did - but you have to remember that my mother reads this and she is no more technically advanced than her oldest daughter.  Finally, I finally have a badge.  Feel free to grab it and put it on your blog to say that you follow me, and I would love to do the same for you.  Just as soon as someone explains to me how.  And by the way, there are several of you that have signed up to receive emails whenever I post a new blog, but some of you never did verify it in your email so I don't believe you are getting them.  If you are one of those people and you actually want to get the email, please just leave a comment or shoot me a message and we'll work it out.  If this does not apply to you or you don't want to get the email any more, I can't really say that I blame you most days.  I'm just going to come to terms with the fact that you don't need me in your life at that level and I'm going to move on after I have one medium sized cry about it.  It's really ok, I just like to have your info so I can stalk you better.  It's something that makes me feel good about myself.

    Since today's post is pretty much all about the new look of the blog and technical type stuff, I thought I would throw in just a quick story for entertainment and to make you feel good the next time you and your family go out of town for the weekend.

    There once was a family that went out of town for the weekend to a large church convention in a big city at a nice hotel.  This family checked into their hotel room and had been in it for approximately twenty minutes when a security guard knocked on the door to inform the family that there had been a noise complaint about them.  Later that evening, the second oldest child in the family locked the door to the bathroom in their hotel room and shut it.  From the outside.  The mother tried to unlock the door with a metal fingernail file, but to no avail.  Men from the maintenance department had to come up to unlock the bathroom door.  The next morning, the oldest child in the family locked the bathroom door in the hotel room and shut it.  From the outside.   Men from the maintenance department had to come up to unlock the bathroom door.  Again.  The mother then informed everyone in the family, in a rather forceful tone of voice, that the next person who touched the lock on the bathroom door was going to have a very unpleasant conversation with the wooden spoon in her purse.  Then over the span of two days, the mother of the family lost three separate room keys on three separate occasions.  Then the small daughter of the family waited until they were all out to eat at a restaurant far away from the hotel, with no diaper bag whatsoever, to remove her diaper and throw it on the floor and walk around the dining area of said restaurant with her jeans pulled to her ankles and her bare bottom shining because that was the day she decided she wanted to use the potty like a big girl.  That didn't exactly work out for the girl and her parents as well as it could have.  The family still had a nice time over the weekend, though.  And mainly what all of this proves is just that ..............................................

We don't get out much.