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Sunday
Jun032007

Holy C*#p, It's Been How Long?

Today marks Daddy's and my 7th anniversary. We celebrated by doing what we do every Sunday: running around to get groceries and other necessities then cleaning the house/yard. Of course, this year we had something a little extra special to run around with us. And I don't mean Alexis (she's not just a "little" extra special, she a whole lot of extra special). Oh no, my friends. Last night I commented to Daddy, "Did you change any poopy diapers today?" He responded with a "no." I wisely predicted that our fate would be a poopiful day today, and I was right. I lost count at dirty diaper number four. That was the one that I changed out in the yard because there was no way that thing was going in our house. We would have had to have the whole place fumigated. Did you know that blueberries come out looking exactly the same as they did going in? Well, now you do.

Here's a bit of anniversary trivia for you. The reason we chose June 3rd for our wedding was that it was the Saturday closest to our "real" anniversary. We went on our first date on June 4th, 1994.

And now, here's Miss Poopy dining out. The first picture is the moment when the blueberries went in.


Saturday
Jun022007

Premonitions and Paybacks

A few weeks ago I was on a mission to quickly run in and out of the house so that Alexis and I could run some errands after work. Since I was in a hurry, Alexis was, of course, running around in the back yard and completely ignoring everything I was asking her to do. Somewhere in midst of my one-year old herding attempts, I ended up talking to one of our neighbors, Jolene.

Jolene is a single mom with a six or seven-year old son. She was commenting on the way cute sundress that Alexis was wearing that day and how "it must be fun to dress a girl." I, being the live-in-the-moment person that I am, agreed. Girls are more fun to dress. After all, boys just wear jeans or shorts and t-shirts every day.

Since that day I have come to the realization that I am going to pay a hefty price for that cute sundress some day. And for the little tank top, the little shorts, and all the other adorable little clothes that I get to dress Alexis in. For some day, it will no longer be cute that Alexis is wearing a sweet little dress with a little bit too much cleavage showing. Some day, while Jolene's son is still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I will have to face the horror that is a teenage girl and her opinions on proper attire. Please, just shoot me now.

Friday
Jun012007

RIP Lou

One of our most devoted prisoners passed on today. Lizzy Lou, I hardly knew you.

I say "passed on" but I should mention that Lou hasn't managed to pass on out of the house. You see, I am the one that discovered his timely death. As I walked out of the house this morning to go to work, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he didn't look too good. I went up for a closer inspection, and his eyes were half open and his mouth was in "I am Lou the iguana and I am about to maul you with my vicious bite" position. But he wasn't attacking. He was just sitting in the corner. So I did what all responsible women who hate lizards in their houses would do, I left for work.

I made it as far as the end of the driveway then decided I should try to confirm if there was indeed a dead iguana in the house. So I went back in and tried poking him with a hanger. He still didn't try to attack me. You know, because he was dead and stuff. So, I went back into responsible woman mode and went to work.

I pondered whether or not to call Daddy for over an hour. I feared he would try to rush to Lou's rescue. Then I would have three problems.

1.) I would be mad that he considered the iguana important enough to leave work.
2.) If he wasn't dead and Daddy did head home, then I would never hear the end of it.
3.) I thought Daddy would be upset. It's never fun to be upset early in the morning on a Friday.

So I polled my co-workers and promptly did the opposite of their recommendations (never follow the advice of someone that works for a hospital). I called Daddy. His response? "I wish you would've called me right away. It's trash day. Now I have to figure out what to do with him for a week." I guess Daddy wasn't as heartbroken as I expected.

So fast forward to now. There's a dead iguana in the basement that is rapidly shriveling up like a raisen. There's a responsible woman who refuses to touch the thing. There's a Daddy who had a work function and won't be home for a while. Finally, there's a baby sleeping who has no idea anything is going on.