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Kids are really obnoxious

Okay, y’all know that I love my kids. They are a part of me – why I live and breathe every day. 

But, seriously, they are so LOUD. Loud, obnoxious and unrestrained. 

Things were so quiet when they were in California. I often talked out loud to myself when I was home alone. Just because it was so dang quiet. Not anymore! We’re lucky to get a word in with each other.

Last night we were in the car and my mom was sitting in the backseat between the boys and she was plugging her years because she was getting it from both sides. Bickering and playing with each other – in just about equal parts. 

On one hand, I’m happy my kids don’t feel inhibited or restrained. I want them to be able to speak freely to me, my husband and our immediate family – especially my parents. I want them to be kids and act like kids and let the creativity flow and if that means having competitions about which of them can sound more like a girl when they scream then so be it. (However, not in the freaking-ass car).

On the other hand, when they are being loud it makes it really hard to hear their parents or grandparents, it makes it impossible for us to talk to each other, and there comes a point where we cross from creative outlet to just plain ole bad manners. It’s a balance. Right now I feel like we are teetering a little over on the bad manners side – maybe because they are just home from a 3 week vacation and need to figure out their boundaries at home again? I’m guessing that’s it. 

In any case, I LOVE my children but they just might be the death of me this weekend until they get back in the groove. The grandparents are staying through Sunday morning and then we can get back to our normal lives.

Speaking of normal lives, we seem to have gotten into a bad sleeping pattern/night time habit with the kids. It doesn’t get dark here until 10 pm. Often we don’t make the kids to go to bed until 10 pm. It’s summer, it’s fine. But they stay up in their room screwing around, talking, playing, getting in each others beds for at least another 2 hours. It drives us crazy. At 10 pm, and definitely by 11 pm, we are ready for some adult quiet time. No obnoxious kids. 

Last night was particularly frustrating. I started getting them ready for bed at 9:30. At midnight I made one of them go sleep on our bed and, later after he had fallen asleep, my husband moved him back to his bed. But before that we had to interrupt the movie we were watching about 6 times to tell them to settle down. It was just flat-out outrageous behavior. 

So, as a result of all this, I’m considering dismantling my office, my girl sanctum, and making separate rooms for the kids. It’s no longer so important to have a guest room (since my parents bought a travel trailer and will use that when they visit). The trade-off would be that I would take a room that has been traditionally a playroom/pets room and I would clean it up and re-organize my office space there. 

Con: it doesn’t have a door. It’s just one end of a long room. The other side of the room has the stairs up to my husband’s loft office and the door to the dog run. Oh, and I wouldn’t have a window facing the front of my house anymore when I’m sitting at my work station. I would have to keep a tortoise’s habitat in my office.

Pro: none for me personally. The benefit of peace and quiet that would come from the boys having separate rooms is a win for the whole family though.  Oh, yeah, and I would have a tortoise in my office.

The boys are 9 & 7 years old. What do you think about giving them their own rooms? Will it be a good thing or can this be seen as giving in to their tyranny? I think the alone time would be a benefit to them. They each kind of re-group when they are alone. But would it hamper their closeness? I want them to grow up close to one another. 


Help. Please. Thank you.

Posted on by Wise Sass · 2 Comments

Thankful Thursday: Too Much Good Stuff

I am indeed very thankful today. For many reasons:
  • Last night my boys came home after being with their grandparents in California for 12 days. I’m so thankful they came home safely to me. It felt weird having half my heart beating from another state. The two halves belong together just like my babies belong with me.
  • I’m thankful for having a mom & stepdad who would take my children for 12 days just so they can be with them and take them to do fun things. They went to the mountains, they kayaked, they swam a lot (and are still learning and getting better), they went to the Jelly Belly Factory, they helped my parents buy a travel trailer – okay, so not always fun for the kids. But my kids will get the benefit of that travel trailer (we’re already planning a trip for the 6 of us to Yellowstone next year) and how awesome are those grandparents? 

 

  •  I’m thankful for the time I had with my husband over the past weekend. We NEEDED to reconnect romantically without kids, parents and stressors and we did just that. And I was spoiled. He was spoiled. It was GOOD. After 12 years together (11 married) we don’t expect heart-shaped explosions all the time, but respect, understanding, caring, and a teacup or two of passion will put us in good stead for a while.
Date night. Downtown Boise. We saw BUCK and it was SO GOOD.
  • I’m thankful for the time I had alone. My husband had shows or rehearsals every evening so I had my house to myself. WOW. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was paralyzed in indecision from the options. Do I want to write a blog? Make dinner for MYSELF only? Clean house? Watch a chick flick? Pay bills? Work out? Paint the hallway? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SHOULD I DO? In the end, to be honest, I didn’t do much. I did the dishes some days. I watched some girl TV (we don’t need details. moving on.) I worked out. I watered plants. I did (some) laundry. I did NOT bake a darn thing. One night all I ate for dinner was Zucchini. It was awesome.
  • I’m thankful for friends who are like family. ‘Nuff said. 
  • Last, but not least, I’m thankful for my renewed work-out ethic. I came back from vacation with the intention of beginning my work-out regimen. That Sunday I got out mid-day and started day 1, week 1, of the Couch-to-5K program using the C25K iPhone app. I didn’t finish it. I ended up walking half the “runs”. Because, hello, I’m not in the best of shape. But I’m going to persevere. I’m going to get it done. I’ve been hitting my elliptical at night. I’m very proud of myself. Very proud of the effort I have been making and I hope to keep it up. In the last 12 days I’ve done 3.1 miles on the elliptical a couple times, and then about 1 to 1 1/2 miles a few other times. I’m using a Pedometer app on my iPhone to track the elliptical work-outs. This is good for me. Baby steps. I will get there. But first I need new shoes. 🙂 

 What are you thankful for today? 

Posted on by Wise Sass · 2 Comments

Baseball Mom

It’s starting. I’ve resisted for a long time – he’s too young, he’s not ready, let’s just do martial arts instead – but now it’s time. To push it off any further would be doing him a disservice.
My oldest has joined an organized sports team. Baseball, to be specific. 
3 weeks ago when I reminded my son that he was signed up for baseball and it would be starting soon he had a gigantic fit. He didn’t want to do it, how could I make him and why didn’t I warn him before I signed him up? Well, he knew I was signing him up, he chose baseball over soccer, and I even double-checked with him. So what was the problem? Nerves. He was scared to meet new people and do something he wasn’t used to doing.
2 weeks ago when my mom & stepdad were here they bought him a bat, a couple baseballs, and a mitt. We went out to a baseball diamond at a school nearby and practiced a bit. After that I didn’t hear a word of complaint.
Last night we went to the first practice. I signed all the forms, got his uniform and signed up to bring the snacks for one of the games. In true sports mom form.
I was so proud of him last night. No nerves last night. He jumped right in. And when the coach was asking for a volunteer to demonstrate where center field was he raised his arm the highest.  
In the next 5 weeks we have 4 practices and 10 games. Here we go.
He’s an Angel. And a handsome devil.
His brother giving him words of encouragement just before his first time up to bat.
Because I love themed collages.
Posted on by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

9

At 1:47 AM this morning, 9 years ago, this happened:
(Read the story of how that birth happened here). 
And, just like that, we were a family: 

Then we took him home and started the arduous task of raising him. It was tough, at first, with amazing highs and lows. The boy was dubbed “failure to thrive” after losing some weight and then he started refusing to nurse. We found out that I wasn’t producing enough milk for him. I started pumping and pumping and pumping. And then I pumped some more. I was a dismal failure at it. The max I ever pumped in ONE DAY was 2.5 ounces. So, as if that challenge wasn’t enough, the kid wouldn’t sleep at night. I spent all day pumping and trying to feed him in-between his naps and then when the hubby got home from work I would try to sleep for a few hours and then, like clockwork, the boy was wide awake from midnight until 8 am. It took a month for us to start paring that down and, hour by hour, I was able to get him to go to sleep earlier. But, man, for awhile I felt like the walking dead.
Once we got over these speed bumps we were able to really just enjoy him. He was so sweet and we enjoyed him so much. He loved being swaddled very tightly. We called him our burrito baby. He was happy and snuggly and he looked like a little man. 
Here’s a pictorial from his younger years:
8 weeks old. He can thank me for this later.
My little man
Look what’s growing!
First trip to Disneyland
Kickin’ it baby-style
And then, before we knew it (or had even considered it) he was a big brother:
He seemed to grow up so fast after that point. He just became a big boy in the flash of an instant:
Halloween when he was 4
5th birthday
Going to school!
And now, so handsome, so smart and clever. He’s become so independent. He gets up in the morning and starts getting ready for school. He runs to the bus stop by himself. He gets his own band-aids. He does his chores and yells at his brother and brushes his teeth and combs his hair and reads. He started reading the first Harry Potter book this year. Oh my.

Look what I made. I am one proud mama today. (And most days, to be honest).

Posted on by Wise Sass · 2 Comments

Last week in Instagram & this week in sheer panic

Okay, before we get to an Instagram review of the week and a recap of our wild ride on Easter, let me just tell you about this coming week. 
My momma is coming on Thursday evening. Momma & stepdad, actually. So I have guests coming in 3 1/2 days.
Something you may or may not know about me – I’m a 90%er. I like to do jobs/projects until they are mostly done and then I lose steam and it takes me FOREVER to finish them. This is a problem for me this week because over the last two weekends we have been working on our bedroom re-do. The room itself is done. (Well, mostly. I need to pick up a bench, some storage options like a bookcase, and a couple of small, tall side tables – but it’s mostly done. The furniture will wait a bit.) 
The problem is we put all that junk that was cluttering up our bedroom into my office. My office that also doubles as our guest room. Do you see where I am going with this?
I have 3 1/2 days to now make the guest room presentable. But I don’t wanna. Because I’m a 90%er and I’m done with my bedroom project. Whine.
So – that’s my week. Clean, clean, organize, organize. Then my parents are coming and it will be my son’s birthday on Friday. I’m feeling the PRESSURE. I’m feeling a little panicky about it. Maybe that adrenaline will help me get it done. Fingers-crossed.
Okay, now that I’ve got THAT out of the way we’ve got some loverly pictures:
The beginning of the week was rough at work. Drastic measures were necessary:
Sangria
Then we did homework. This is my Autistic guy. When I see him doing so-called “normal” things really well I can’t tell you how much my heart expands. The hubby’s too. See his face? Proud dad.
Speaking of the Autism thing – my little guy has been afraid of dogs for about 3 1/2 years. That’s about 1 1/2 years after we got our Labradoodle, Murphy. Murphy was a very active pup. And big. With gigantic paws. Bubba got scared and from then on Murphy had a weird half-life – all day outside and all night inside in his crate. Lately as my little bubba has gotten older we’ve been seeing improvements. He’s not as scared as he was. It probably helps that he’s taller than Murphy now. 
We started “Project: Integrate Murphy” last week. Starting with a bath and a haircut:

It’s going pretty well. Murphy does have a tendency to eat paper though. He gnawed on the hubby’s hard-bound Hitchhiker’s Guide though and that was a big, fat no-no. He needs to work on his manners a bit before he’s given carte blanche access to the whole house.
Friday the boys went to Hobby Lobby with me. I have started a love affair with that place. Largely because of the bedroom re-do. And partially because all the wall decor was 50% off. Yikes. 
Anyway, to reward them, and me, for their good behavior at the store I took them to U-Swirl for yogurt where I snapped one of the cutest pictures ever of these two boys together:
Brothers
I just died. 
Look how sweet they are? So, so misleading.
Saturday I busted ass to try to get my bedroom done. It’s done-ish. Here’s a preview of a later, date TBD, blog post about the room re-do:
Hobby Lobby purchase. Yep. Infatuation all the way.
We also dyed eggs on Saturday. I’m not artsy-fartsy with them. More of a traditionalist, I think. They are what they are:
Which brings us to Easter. We went to the in-law’s house. They have 4 acres on which sits the old farmhouse, a guest house (currently inhabited by a visiting aunt & uncle), a big barn-like structure (for holding the RV, junk and cars. and more junk), old outhouses, an old pump house, old chicken coops, a playhouse, a wood pile, about 8 old undriveable cars, an olive grove, picnic tables, and, finally, a beaten earth track that will eventually have actual train tracks on it for my father in law’s ride-on train. 
It’s a fun place for 13 grandkids (11 of them boys) to play.
But before the playing we had the egg hunting:
And egg-inspecting at the playhouse:

And Papa took some of the littlest kids for a ride on the track in the golf cart:

Those are the 2 girlies. Twinsies too.

Then we had some boy cousin playing on the wood pile:

Old fallen trees are really the best places to play.
The hubby and I borrowed the keys to the golf cart and drove out to the back olive grove. We may have smooched a little. I can neither confirm nor deny, but this guy certainly thinks he’s pretty clever:

Note: I cannot tell you how fun this was. I just can’t. I don’t have the words. It was like a ride at Disneyland except without all the safety restraints and perfectly imagined scenery. The hubby drove with swagger. Then he let let me drive and I was a tad more cautious. I want to do it again. 
On our way back we saw this band of pirates getting ready to attack:
That’s my baby in the middle. With his stick sword.
And then we were caught:
My baby lost interest at some point during the charge and went the other way.
And during all this crazy driving and pirate attacks what were the little girls doing? 
Contemplating the crazy boys, of course. Just like women have been doing for centuries:
“Hmm, why would they get on the roof just to fall on their heads? Doesn’t seem logical.”
Happy Easter, Peeps.
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A first birth story

Next Friday, April 29, will be 9 years since I gave birth for the first time. Most people would say that’s the moment I became a mom, but I felt like a mom from the instant I knew he was in my body. Even when the early tests came back negative I *knew* he was there. And I was right – he was. And he was precious and he changed my life. 

When I think back to my pregnancy, birth and the first few months of his life I’m filled with a mix of pride & happiness and shame, guilt & regret. 

Shame, guilt & regret? Yep. I could have done it better. I’m ashamed of myself for not knowing more or being more pro-active about knowing more. I hope I didn’t screw him up too much. I would do things differently now than I did then. I should be clear – I didn’t actually do anything to hurt him (at least I hope not). But we struggled. Before, during, and after his birth there were difficulties. I didn’t know how to do it better. 

Before his birth I had borderline preeclampsia. I retained so much water those last few weeks I could probably float. I gained 40 lbs and the last 15 were all water weight in the last 2 weeks. I was on bed rest for 3 weeks.

During his birth I was unaware of the process; I was scared and exhausted. I didn’t know or understand what to ask for, or even that I could ask for more than what was being provided to me.

After his birth I was sleep deprived and emotionally drained and scared and inhibited and I didn’t know how to make it better.

I just need to remember this: When I knew better I did better.

When I knew better I did better. When I knew better I did better.

When he was born I was 26. I knew what a typical 26 year old knows about birth & babies. I took the birthing classes. I read books like What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I joined an online message board for moms that were due in April 2002. Some of the moms were first-timers, like me, and some were more experienced. I put together a birth plan based on what I had read. I wanted to incorporate different birthing methods and positions in my labor that would ease my pain and help with the delivery. I was open to having an Epidural if the pain got intolerable because I had heard how horrible the pain was and I was scared. I felt as prepared as I could be for something that was still largely an unknown thing.

On Sunday, April 28, my due date, I woke at 7:30 am when I felt a trickle of liquid. I flipped myself 180 degrees out of bed to a standing position (in an insane desire to prevent the bed from getting wet) and my water gushed out all over the floor. (Sorry if that’s TMI for you. If it is, then maybe you shouldn’t read this post. Consider yourself warned). I woke my husband, called my OB’s office and posted to my message board that it was my turn.

It was a couple hours before we headed to the hospital. I wasn’t feeling the contractions yet so everything was calm. We got all checked in to L&D at the hospital and began walking the track to try to get things moving. We walked and we walked and we walked some more. 

After about 3 hours of this, and for reasons I can’t remember, they wanted to hook me up to a monitor. I should note that it’s around this time when my memory gets a little fuzzy. I don’t know why, but from about 1 pm to 9 pm I only have vague images or snippets in my mind of things that happened. I’m really, really hazy on a complete narrative of the day. Was it the pain? I don’t know. The Pitocin? The eventual Epidural? I just don’t know.

These are things I know happened:
  • I couldn’t walk around anymore because I had to be in bed due to the monitor.
  • I got an IV and, at some point, Pitocin, because I wasn’t progressing.
  • As some point the baby’s oxygen levels dropped so they put an oxygen mask on me.
  • I had the most horrible heartburn all day and, thankfully, they were able to give me Tums for some temporary relief.
  • I threw up several times. Probably throwing up the Tums since I hadn’t had anything else. 
  • The on-call OB came to check on me and, when she noticed I was in pain she asked why I hadn’t asked for an Epidural? Well, because I didn’t know it was time to ask for an epidural. The contractions and level of pain had increased so gradually that it wasn’t obvious to me that I should be asking for an Epidural. I don’t know how else to explain that.
  • I had the shakes really bad before I got the Epidural. I think those calmed down after. At least I don’t remember them after. 
The next part of the process that I remember clearly was when I was starting to feel the pain from the contractions again. They were going to give me another dose of the Epidural but they realized then that I was at 10 and started preparing for me to deliver instead. Since they wanted me to feel the contractions (so I would know when to push) I didn’t get more Epidural. 

I pushed for the next 3 hours. From 9 pm to 12 am. Pushed for about 30 seconds and then rested for 30 seconds. Rinse and repeat. For 3 hours. I threw up a few more times. The baby was crowning but that was it. That kid was not budging. 

I have to say, my L&D nurses were fantastic. There were 3 of them there with me. One down between my legs who seemed to be running the show (you know, other than ME). She was particularly nurturing and encouraging and I wish I could remember her name. There was another one up by my head who kept helping me sit up, rubbing my back, encouraging me, wiping my brow, etc. There was another nurse floating around supporting those two. 

My husband was on the other side of me and he was incredibly encouraging and supportive. I don’t think I cursed at him even once.

3 hours. Pushing non-stop. No progress. I became incredibly worn out. 

They decided to let me rest and asked the OB to come check on me. She had been delivering another baby so I hadn’t seen her much. When she came and examined me she gave me less than a 10% chance of delivering naturally and recommended a c-section.

I was exhausted. I just wanted him to be born already. Please, please, just make it be done and put him in my arms already. 

I consulted with my mom and my husband. They were worried about me. They were worried about the baby. It was so easy to just trust the doctor and say, “ok.” 

I don’t want to regret the decisions I made then but I can’t help but think that I should have questioned that decision more. I should have asked if they knew WHY he was stuck and wasn’t there anything else that could be done? Was he in jeopardy or should we wait it out a bit more? I didn’t know enough to ask the right questions. And did I mention I was exhausted? We were 16 hours in since my water had broken and I think about 11 hours in from when the contractions had become painful.

I got more Epidural. Around 1 am April 29, 2002 I was wheeled into surgery. At 1:47 am this happened:

I had a perfect, beautiful baby boy. He was gorgeous. I cried and told him he was beautiful for the brief second they held him next to my head. I was happily exhausted and relieved. He looked just like a miniature man.

Then they took him away from me so they could sew me up. My husband left me too and I felt tired and alone and a little disconnected to what was happening around me. 

My husband washed him and fed him a bottle – because they needed to feed him, apparently, and I was in recovery and I couldn’t breastfeed him yet, they said. I don’t know. I was annoyed they gave him a bottle, for sure, but I didn’t have it in me to throw a hissy fit after the fact.

I was wheeled back to my room and had uncontrollable shakes for a long time. They kept piling warm blankets on me. Finally they brought my little angel in and I was able to breastfeed him for the first time. He latched on great and drank like a champ.

They told me later he was facing the wrong way in the birth canal and that’s why he had gotten stuck. He was “sunnyside up.” Even now, years later, I wonder how they didn’t know that? Or check for that? Couldn’t they have turned him over? 

So that’s my first birth story. That early morning as I was recovering from the surgery and he was laying in my arms I felt the most vulnerable I have ever felt in my life. I wanted to put him back IN. At least when he was inside of me he was safe. Outside of me anything could happen to him. That’s when I truly understood what people mean when they say it’s like your heart is beating outside of your body. 

The first few months were really hard – breastfeeding/milk supply issues, sleeping issues, etc. But I’ll save that for part 2. 

Here he is, almost 9 years later:


Thanks for reading. 🙂 

Posted on by Wise Sass · 3 Comments

Lessons in moderation

I’m a better mom on the weekends.

This is me during the week, every day, Monday-Friday:
Wake up, stumble to the shower, dress, make-up, help the kids dress and brush things, and then run out the door with seconds to spare. Take one kid to school while the hubby takes the other to a different school.
Go to work and work, work, work. Maybe get lunch. Maybe not. 
Leave work at 6 or 6:30 or 7. Sometimes go to appointments after work. Then rush home because the hubby has to be somewhere at 7ish a few days a week. 
Make dinner. Do dishes. Maybe do laundry. Maybe play a game of Plants vs. Zombies with the boys (well, I’m being honest. don’t worry, homework is done already). 
Coax my little one to do the needful (drop a bomb, if you get my drift) and get a bath (because he’s Autistic and in his mind one must follow the other or there will be tears). 

Then jammies, and teeth brushing and bed around 9 or 9:30. (Where they will lay for another hour or two before falling asleep. Why? Because they are MY kids).

The hubby and I may sit down and watch something together (thank goodness for Tivo) or we may both do work. I’ll do my job-related work or pay bills or I try to blog. Then I fall into bed semi-comatose at midnight or 1 am.

Aaaannnnddddd repeat.

It’s the weekends that I can look at my sons and really think, “What do I want them to learn from me this weekend?” They see me work all week long, and that’s one lesson right there, but what can I impart to them on the weekends?

And I don’t mean the difference between an adjective or pro-noun, or how to work through their multiplication chart. 
I mean what can I do to be a positive example to them? So they understand how to live when they are adults. Respect, charity, industriousness, etc. The stuff that only parents can teach, you know, by example. 

Somebody once said, “If one oversteps the bounds of moderation, the greatest pleasures cease to please.”

Work ethic is important. It’s huge. But I firmly believe in living a life of moderation. In raising my kids I want them to learn from me that work is good – not only does it provide for more practical needs, but it also feeds the mind and helps individuals to grow and become better, more well-rounded people.
Conversely, I want my boys to know that playing and down-time and just plain, ole FUN and laughter is good too. To be successful at work a person needs to learn the virtues of the R’s – restart, refuel, reload, reboot & relax.
Sometimes, like this morning, the best lesson I can teach them is just to turn the music up and have a dance party. Right there in the living room. 
Laughter? Check. 
Exercise? Check.

Inhibitions? Gone.

My kids thinking I’m the coolest mom ever? CHECK. 
Collapsing on the sofa.
We’ll get to the laundry . . . later. They will help, they are good at that. (Industriousness, respect? Check, check).

If all we did was have dance parties then they wouldn’t be so special. 

Moderation, yo. It’s important.

Posted on by Wise Sass · 5 Comments

Anatomy of a snap-happy Sunday

Bless him, the hubby let me sleep in. Then, when he was so hungry he couldn’t wait anymore, he crawled into bed with me and said he had already cooked the potatoes and could I please get my lazy arse out of bed and make him a scramble? Fine, fine! 
I got up and staggered my bones to the kitchen and began cooking. In the same pan as the cut up and sauteed potatoes, I added diced ham, aromatics (onion & garlic), and let it all combine on medium low heat. Then whisked 5 eggs, a diced scallion, and salt & pepper in a separate bowl. I added the egg mixture in and stirred a few times to scramble all together. Then turned the burner off, put some cheese on top and put the lid on to let the cheese melt. It was YUM. Plus I had enough leftover to make 6 breakfast burritos for us next week. Total score.
We sat down to eat breakfast and decided to flip on the Netflix and watch the 1st episode of Doctor Who (since it was restarted in 2005). It’s been highly recommended from our friend, Britt. But I think the jury is still out with me and the hubs. We’ll have to watch a few more before we decide. 
Then we started our day in earnest. I sent the kids to take out the recycling and play. Lo and behold they decided to do work:
Took out the recycling
Swept out the laundry room . . .
. . . and continued in the garage
The hubby continued working on my oldest’s invention for his Invention Convention – due this week at school:
the Pull & Dress – more on this later
Bob was doing his thing:
Russian Tortoise. Bob.
So I lit some candles:
A gift for Valentine’s Day from the hubby
and began snapping some pics of a few of my favorite things:
My fancy Jane Austen books – a gift many, many years ago
Willow Tree people – gifts from my family
My grandmother-in-law gave this egg cup to me from her collection. I love it dearly!
I’m thinking of making something now. Something a little sweet and possibly a little savory as well. Hmmm . . .
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My guys

In honor of Valentine’s Day I’m sharing my guys with you. There’s only one who is really my honey, but the others all have their own places in my heart.
This is our good friend Britt, and the hubby. getting ready to enjoy a postprandial cigar. I made them a special Valentine’s dinner tonight – steak sandwiches, broccoli with cheese sauce, roasted garlic on bread with butter and beer. (I also gave them both an awesome Valentine’s gift so they should look extremely happy).
Feb 13, 2011
They are handsome, witty, smart-assed troublemakers who like to get together and smoke cigars and I love them dearly. (No, they don’t smoke in the house. They smoke those nasty things outside even when it’s 20 degrees). I’m married to the one on the right (and he’ll have his own post one of these days) but the one on the left has a special place in my heart too. He’s been part of our family for nearly 5 years now and I don’t know what we would do without him. 
November 2006
 He brings us gifts every time he comes over. He takes out the garbage, if it’s needed, splits wood, helps with dinner and, on occasion, he babysits. He lets my kids jump on him like he’s a trampoline for goodness sake. See?
Oh, by the way, ladies – he’s single.
Of course, my other two Valentine’s are my little guys. I heart them with every fiber of my being. I mean, how could I not? Just look at them! The two cutest cutie-pies in the world. 
Happy Valentine’s Day!