So here's the thing about our family - we live in Mississippi.  And we don't get out much.  So the fact that golf has sort of become our family's favorite sport of choice (to play that is.  we're from the SEC.  of course we are die hard footballers) is a little bit laughable - considering the fact that golf is such a refined and highly mannerous thing.  You know, all the dress codes and etiquette and the fact that you have to watch where you drive and step and you have to be quiet.  None of that sounds like us at all, does it?

    But I think golf has become our thing because it's really all Aaron has left.  The time for football has past.  The occasional pick-up basketball game makes him feel old and beat down.  No one will play tennis with him.  And the last time he played church-league softball he ripped his shoulder into pieces - which he then re-injured when the attic door completely ripped loose from the ceiling and he fell out of the attic and caught himself on beams with his elbows.  All in the name of Christmas decorations.  It was ugly my friend.  He ripped things.  He had a temporary man boob. Yikes.  So I guess the point of all this is to say - golf is his kind of game now.  And because he likes it (and also because our last house was on a really nice golf course so we had unlimited access), our boys have now really taken to it.  At least Aaron, and usually Aaron and the boys, go once a week minimum. 

    Sometimes we even get brave enough to go as a family.  Its usually late - like right before dark - when we go because we are trying to sneak in a few holes before it's too late but after other people have finished so we don't disturb them.  And the only way to describe us when we're there - The Clampets Come to the Country Club.  Seriously.  There are three full golf bags and five people (two of which are quite large) on one golf cart.  We look ridiculous, we are loud, and we sit our baby in the wire basket on the back.  The boys stand hanging off the side and when we drive up to retrieve wayward golf balls, they jump off and roll commando style to get them.  We are the Clampets.  We don't belong at the country club.  But we go anyway.

    Just this past Friday we went, in fact.  And on this particular Friday, we were even more "Clampety" than usual.

    Picture it........................

    There we were, at the first hole, dividing into teams for a three hole scramble.  Aaron and Turnanator (bc he is the weaker playing child at this point), and Super-G and myself (bc I am the weaker playing human amongst the entire population of earthlings at this point.  seriously.  golf is not for the large chested.  it is impossible for me to keep my arms together and near my body.  it's just not happening sports fans) were facing off at the first tee.  Of course Aaron hit from the white tees, or is it the blue tees?  I'm not sure, just whichever set is farthest away. Then we drove the cart down the hill a bit (please remember the "downhill" component of this story.  it's critical) to the red tees where the boys and I would hit.  Turnanator hit first and promptly knocked one into the pond right in front of us. (just like Aaron did on his first attempt.  also, please remember the "pond".  also critical)  Then it was Super-G's turn.  His daddy was giving him some instructions and I was standing there watching because I was next.

    I know what y'all are thinking at this point......."where's Destruct-o-girl?".  Well that is a fantastic question because at the very second we were focused on our drives, she became focused on driving.  The golf cart.  Down the hill.  Straight towards the pond.  As many of you know, the parking break on a golf cart is on the top corner of the brake pedal itself and is released when the gas pedal is pushed.  Well she waited until no one was looking to push that gas and take off.  Fortunately Turnanator was there at the cart putting up his club so he saw it all happen and screamed for our attention.  Unfortunately he decided to try and stop her himself by getting in front of the golf cart and pushing.  He weights 50ish pounds.  It did not work. 

    So one second we're all casually whacking golf balls around, and the next second Turnanator is screaming "NO D, NO D!!!".  We turn to see her barreling down the hill on the golf cart straight towards the pond while her brother is sprinting as fast as he can backwards to keep from getting squashed flat.  I scream at Aaron because I know there is not a chance under the sun that I will catch them, then I start screaming at my precious little son to get out of the way.  Of course that was easier for me to say than for him to do!  So Aaron takes off running and literally dives into the cart, basically pushing the brake with his hand until he can get it stopped.  Luckily he got it stopped before anyone got pancaked or drowned.  Then I burst out into gut-bustin' laughter because that is apparently the reaction my body goes into when I get freaked out that family members are going to get seriously injured and then they don't.  It's the same thing I did when homeboy fell out of the attic.  He was dangling by his elbows and I couldn't stand up from laughing long enough to help him get down.  It's a problem.  I'm addressing it with professionals soon.  Then we proceeded to knock four more golf balls into the pond, load back up on the cart and head to the next hole like nothing ever happened. 


    I'm still not sure we ever figured out who won the scramble..............................

*cue banjo music

 
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.


Picture
Little Aaron
Picture
Little Super-G
Picture
Little Aaron
Picture
Little Turnanator
Picture
Baby Aaron
Picture
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. 
 
1. This was a busy week that finished off with Wish Tree on Thursday and Friday.  Remember when I asked you all to consider adopting an angel from the Wish Tree this year?  Well thanks so much to all of you that did because this year was another great success.  We were able to help right at 260 kids thanks to a lot of work from the coordinator (Emily who did a great job), a lot of hours put in by JA members who shopped organized and sorted, and so very many wonderful donations from some very blessed people who were willing to share their blessings to make Christmas great for a child who may have gone without this year.  Thank you to everyone for such a special work.

2.  I just saw a commercial for a camera that you can watch via your ipad or iphone.  Looks like a great idea when you use it like shown for a baby monitor.  But the guy who is making out with the girl and is checking behind her back to look at his dog on his phone.  Fail.  Really?!  Who would do that?!

3.  The Forever Lazy.  If you haven't seen the commercial for this, please go look it up online now.  Then see the group of grow men wearing it and imagine the special man in your life wearing this tailgating at a game of your favorite SEC team.  I mean please.  Be serious with me.  Who is buying this stuff?

3.  My girl has been sick since Friday.  Like fever and snot and coughing.  Like 103 temperatures.  And send me all the hate mail you want - I'm not much of a medicine giver for fever.  I learned all about it in college with my useless microbiology degree and all, and have since forgotten that information and replaced it with lyrics to Veggie Tales songs and the names of every single Disney character.  But from what I recall, the gyst of fever is to rush blood around your body so a maximum number of white blood cells can get to the disease and kill it faster.  God invented it.  It must be good somehow.  Now I know that super high fever is bad and can cause lots of bad stuff, and I have a nurse practicioner friend that gives her kids meds at 101 to be safe.  But I've also got a doctor friend who didn't do meds for fever on his kids until 104.  So I have decided to fall somewhere in the middle based on how the little nuggets seem to be handling it.  If they are sleeping it off and letting those little white blood cells do their thing, I let it go.  If they are laying there moaning pitifully, drugs it is.  Anyway, this fever has gone on for 3 days now, but last night it seemed way down.  Down enough that she was still being still but eating and drinking and talking a bunch.  So what did we do?  Took her to the movies to see The Muppets and infest all the nice people at the movie theater.  We had promised it earlier and Aaron was going to take the boys, but she seemed better and because I am mother of the year, we took her too.  We were about 30 minutes into the movie when she started the whole crazy loud moaning thing.  I knew what that meant.  So I took off running with her to the bathroom and made it - about 2 seconds too late.  So I had to go find an employee to tell that we had almost made the garbage and offer to clean it up.  And you know what she said, "it's ok.  you wouldn't believe how often I have to clean up vomit."  Ummm........ew.  How many other awful mothers are there?!  And suddenly I'm not interested in going to the movies ever again.
 

Don't be like me,
Cassie
 
    I have been gone for a really long time.  Over a week actually.  And for that I am sorry.  Well I am sorry if my absence actually had an affect on your life.  Like if you accidentally left your kids at school for 35 extra minutes because you were busy buying gold ballet flats with a bow and you needed to feel better about yourself by reading someone else's story of terrible mothering.  But if it didn't (and I'm pretty sure that's like 99.8% of you) then I'm not all that sorry.  Like you, I was busy making memories with my family (and cleaning my house - a topic for tomorrow maybe) and thought you would understand.

    Since many of you have been doing the "what I am thankful for" thing on facebook (mama - I know you're not on fb.  it's just where people make their status something they are thankful for every day of November) and I have been too lazy to do it, and I meant to do it on Thanksgiving day but was busy watching my bulldogs beat up on the black bears, I thought I would just make a comprehensive 30 point list of things that I am really glad exist.  So here they are for your reading pleasure...................in no particular order.

1.precooked bacon - Have I mentioned this before possibly?  I'm telling you, that stuff is a culinary wonder and huge time saver.

2. the ornaments my grandmother crocheted(sp?) - we just got the Christmas stuff out of the attic tonight and I when I saw the box full of  little red, green and white stockings and bells, I got that warm fuzzy feeling all over.  I love stuff that gives me warm fuzzy feelings.  I love stuff my grandmother made.

3. DVR - Have you tried life with no commercials?  It's amazing.

4. The Office - Steve, I miss you though

5. my shark steam mop - Kids tracked mud in the house?  Just plug it in and mop and put it up all in less than 3 minutes.  Winning.

6. my babies - Tonight on the drive home from my parents' house, I turned back and just stared at my kids while they were being still watching a movie.  I looked at Aaron and asked, "don't you just look at them some times and think 'I could just die I love them so much'?".  And he looked at me and said in the most serious voice "all the time". 

7. a husband who loves our babies.  a lot.

8. my cute MSU hat on day 3 or 4 with no hair wash (obviously this list is not in order of importance.  I do not love my ballcap more than my husband and children)

9. the tool from pampered chef (I don't know what it's called) that is shaped like a star on the end that you use to chop up ground meat as you cook it so you don't get a bunch of big chunks

10. the ladies at church who make desserts every Wednesday so I don't have to

11. tinted moisturizer - if you don't know why I am thankful for this then you should go get some tomorrow

12. having a swimming pool in my back yard so no one except the people I choose will ever see me in a swimsuit again

13. my mother who comes and gets my life in order every time I need her

14. my nieces and nephews - so far there are 9 of them with more to come I'm sure.  cousins rock

15. growing up in a Christian home and marrying a spouse who grew up in a Christian home

16. a husband who is awesome - Him being awesome makes my life a lot easier

17. my truck - It has been in the shop plenty but it is still going with 230,000 miles on it.  It holds a ton of people and stuff, it's loud, it has a dvd player, and the kids are way back in the back so they are easier to ignore when I want to.

18. the hope of Heaven that I do not deserve and yet have offered to me anyway

19. one pair of blue jeans that fit - even if the size is a 3 digit number at this point.  at least I can button them

20. healthy children - When so many are not, it is easy to take this for granted

21. hot tamales from Rosedale - they are seriously in my top 5 foods ever

22. green concealer - It covers up redness so well

23. having an amazing mother-in-law, daughter-in-law relationship with Aaron's mom

24. our sweet college kids who help me out all the time whether it be babysitting, cooking, or folding laundry

25. wonderful friends that I adore all over the southeastern United States because we have moved so much

26. soldiers and their families that sacrifice to keep us free

27. my Cricut, now that I have started figuring out how to actually use the thing

28. getting to hang out with our families this week

29. having the kinds of families that we want to and enjoy hanging out with - Not everyone is that lucky I'm afraid.

30. icing in a can - Because then you can just open it and eat it with a spoon