Wuv - Twu Wuv - Continued...

This is Dax-Man.

He has a Lazy Boy Chair....

Or Two...

Already.

What is it about men loving their big chairs and

Heaven Help Me...

Remotes?

He will literally dive from high places for that little magical button-filled gadget.

I'm worried.

But mostly because it is going to be a three-way dog fight to the bitter end over that dang thing.

Men, I will never understand them.

Love Them? Yes. Understand them? Not a chance.

:)

Wuv - Twu Wuv...

This is Big K....

And he has a burning testimony of oral hygiene.

He has pretty much taken over ownership of this electronic toothbrush and every other toothbrush in the house.

And don't even try to go out in the morning without letting him brush his lil' ivories.

You'll hear about it.

Promise.

Don't you just love it when a "must do" becomes a "want to". Ahhh, sweet parenting victory. And yes, we'll gloat. This may be one of few chances to do so! :)

Love You Little Horse Power...

TaDa!

Well, we finally celebrated someone's B-Day with a Sunday evening party.

And here it is, The great unveiling....

(As if you were waiting with baited breath, eh?!)

Come June, our RyGar will be...

1) Leaving on a Jet Plane

2) To Go Fishing

3) In Alaska - The Last Frontier

With one of his favorite man pals for an entire week.

Geez, I better get me some lovin' tonight! :)

And in other news - the babes are feeling better.

Kaelster even had a date with daddy-o and his new friend Sam at the auto expo.

Let's just say that the little dude has been making mad "car sounds" ever since.

Pretty Cute.

And Dax Man - Well, he's gearing up for spring training.

Grandma gave Ry a T-Ball set for his birthday.

It's the gift that keeps giving... to the babies. I think they know that every party is all about them now and they love it.

And let's face it - We do too!

Little Lion Cubs...

I need to give a little shout out to my amazing babies. My little "lost boys" have had fluids pouring from every spout on their angel faces this week and still, they slumber to the hum of their humidifiers all night long, hell-bent on knocking whatever it is that ails them out of their systems. I have been seriously blessed in the good baby department.

But I'll tell you, the week has not been one without some serious moments of worry and sheer humility. I admit to calling my mom, my sister-in-law, my friends and the pediatrician's nurse hotline for the, "Are you sure?" questions and the "Have you tried this" conversations. I also may or may not have called the same crowd (sans the Dr's office) to lament my snotty, puked-on status more than once. Hey, I may have two babies, but I am a newbie to the sick infant and toddler department and even if I had eleven kiddos, I'm not sure I could be completely unshaken when one of them fell ill.

I hate nothing more than the sounds of their little coughs through their monitors and I hold my own breath every time one is carried through the soundwaves and strain my ears for their even sleeping sounds to continue. I feed. I change. I snuggle. And I medicate. I pour my soul into my little men, hoping every feeling of goodness and love will seep deep into their bones and cells, so that today they'll feel better. But more importantly, they'll feel my all-encompassing love for them in their very frames every single day of their lives.

There is just no way to describe the change of your entire person and psyche that comes with motherhood. I know it is a sentiment expressed often - that unwavering, overwhelming love - and I know that mothers all over the world nod their heads in understanding. But I'll say it again, these little lions in my den are my whole world and I would walk through fire to ensure their health and happiness.

Just when you think the pools of love deep in your heart couldn't be more full - they are. And your little babies cause the banks to overflow as they snuggle on one another and commiserate with one another and glance at each other with their sad little cloudy eyes to send messages of pure understanding and love.

Chin up, my little lion cubs... you've turned the corner and the world awaits you.

It's Somebody's Birthday...

And this is all he's gettin'...

Lemme give you some hints to see if you can figure out whose big day it is...

-He gets a little twinkle in his eyes when he smiles.

-He is often annoyed with my polarizing effect on his electronics and my incessant button pushing of said electronics.

-He has two little lady slayers that mimic his laughs, his burps and his stellar moto-sounds.

-He looks all the more handsome when he is scruffy and rugged and covered in mud.

-He works harder than anyone I have ever met and miraculously he still takes time to read instructions when the situations calls.

-He has a smokin' hot chick that adores him... Ha Ha... Better stop now. Things are beginning to get shameless.

If I listed 28 more clues I would have reached his ripe old age - but a good wifey doesn't spill the beans. :)

Anyway, like all of the finest things in life, RyGar keeps getting better with age. I count myself lucky for landing such a specimen. Someone once told me that Ryan was my exact counter point in this world. He said that Ryan is the one that anchors me to the ground so that I don't float off into outerspace with my grand and wild ideas. Really? I didn't think I was that much of a hippie nor did I think that other people considered him to be the grown-up and responsible one. But I concur with this person about one thing...

Ryan is my better half, my counter point and my very own Captain America.

Stay tuned to see what those three lil' boxes contain. I mean seriously - you shouldn't be worried for his happiness. Just Sayin'...

RyGar - Get Home Already before I BURST due to the dangerous side-effects of keeping a freakin' stellar surprise for way too long.

AND because your little mini's are stoked to go to the car show with you this weekend... (that's right, I asked them, and they told me so).

:)

We Love You!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly...

So, I joined the craftastic masses of you for a fleeting moment this past week. I saw the idea on another blog I follow and figured that if the only requirements were paper and fishing line, even I could probably manage it.

But there was a disturbing, dark side to my creativity. Behold, THIS....

Can you even imagine the smells that wafted through the air when I opened RyGar's tackle box? Barf. I hereby swear to gift a new tackle box to Ry for his Birthday, or Father's Day or any given Thursday. I can't live knowing that this little plastic box and its contents live under my roof.

Boys...

The Hopeless Romanticizer....

I am a hopeless romanticizer. Let me explain through an example...

Ry leaves town for an extended period of time and subconsciously I daydream about the way his cheeks smell of aftershave, the way his lips feel when he kisses mine, the way he rolls around with the babies laughing and smiling and the way he helps me fold the dreaded batch of whites or takes out the trash in freezing temperatures. I think of him fondly and I guess, due to his absence, I can suddenly only recall his best qualities all week long.

And I have envisioned his return a thousand times with a hundred different lovely variations. I fully expect to be swept off my feet in a movie-like airport embrace and passionately kissed in front of our clapping babies and the crowd of people that have gathered to witness our public reunion that plays out like a great love story in front of them. And I just know that when we get home Ry will pull a silk robe from his suitcase, tied with a bow, just for me, and he will tuck me sweetly into bed and proceed to cook, clean and rock the babies to sleep. Magical things will transpire just because my lover is back within the walls of our home. Things like, the babies' snot ceasing to flow from their nostrils and a knock on the door from Ed McMann. All because my long lost love has rejoined me.

Now, these chivalrous daydreams serve a purpose for sure. They get me through the rocky points of my solo performance and sustain me day after day, along with a touch of reality in the form of evening phone calls. But these romantic ideas that dance around in my head are, in fact, my frenemies.

No person on the planet could live up to my imagined returned without a script and a camera crew. But what do I feel when it all doesn't quite play out the way I have envisioned? Oh geez, must I admit it? I feel a twinge of disappointment that I can't even explain. What am I to do with this imagination of mine that is on romance overdrive?

And isn't that life's greatest challenge? To not be alone wishing you were in the company of others. To not be at work wishing you were home. To not be at home wishing you were in Hawaii. And so on. And to just live in the moment you are in. And to soak it up and squeeze every last drop of life out of it, because there will never be another like it?

I think yes. And I think I have a LONG way to go. But to start whipping my over-active romanticizing mind into reality shape, I'm going to go fold the laundry and clean up lunch and whistle while I work. But not the whole time - I mean, there's a LOT of work that needs to be done... :)

Romanticizer, Out...