For Real...

I can't even tell you how out of touch I have felt for the past few days without my trusty Mac in working order.  We were just installing the new Operating System and backing up the hard drive and getting new RAM - but geez, I felt computer impaired... for real.

Moving on...

I can NOT believe that one of my favorite dudes on Swamp people died.  It makes me sad.  Especially for his poor brother who is now all alone on the Bayou.  But what I REALLY can't believe is that brotha was only 48 years old.  WHAT?  In all seriousness - promise me you'll take me out to the swamp and shoot me if at the age of 48 I look like I'm 72... for real.

As an addendum - don't you think that Dax could be the mini, skinnier and much cuter version of Bruce when he sports his little duds?  

No?  Maybe Kaelster?  For real, right?!   

They even have their trusty yellow lab Cooper as their sidekicks and I'm gonna have to buy them some Crocs I guess.  Ha Ha.  And if you have no clue what I'm talking about... tune into the History channel.  For Real.

I can't believe that Ace is 8-Months old.  Wha-What?  He is getting so stinkin' big and independent.  He would rather sit/scooch/roll around up in the playroom with the big boys than chill with me.  He uses my bod as a jungle gym to hang on and climb and twist around on.  He is standing like a champ and I'm certain he'll be walking by like, next week.  Sheesh...  I am soon gonna be out of babies and fully into toddlers.  Never thought that would happen so fast... for real.

I can't believe how badly I suck at spray painting.  The other day I took on the TINIEST project of all time and thought I'd spray paint a little rooster I found at a thrift shop.  Well, I came in and caught a glance in the mirror and was in shock.  How did I get so sunburned so fast?  Turns out... NOT a sunburn. And those red highlights in my hair?  Spray paint.  I kinda liked 'em.  For real.  But seriously, mama can not spray paint in even the slightest summer breeze or disaster strikes.

I can't believe my two, two-year-olds are both nearly fully potty trained and in their big boy beds.  I also can't believe how much I miss their cribs.  WHY do they have to learn to climb out of those things?  Why do they get totally crazy with bedroom freedom?  They have zero toys in their rooms by design and so what do they discover?  That it's wicked cool to roll yourself up like a burrito in your rug or that emptying clothes from drawers is just as fun as breaking open a pinata.  Did I mention I miss the cribs?  For real.

I read a hair blog the other day and there was a post about "No Pooers".  Apparently there is a group of people that prefer to stick with nature when it comes to cleansing their locks.  Yep, they abstain from using shampoo, and "wash" their hair with water alone; hence the term, "No Poo".  If you think for a second that is a good idea, you are banned from staying at my house.  Seriously?  I have a thing with folks who ignore modern science and hygiene.  Gross!  For Real.

I kind of can't get over how big Kaelster is these days.  I also can not get over how obsessed he is with "Grandpa's red house".  Last night he talked about it prior to drifting off to dreamland for over an hour.  He says things like, "And ride the red moto-cycle?"  "The keys will work."  "Kael will open it garage and ride the black one."  "No the red one."  "And catch a fish" "And get candy from Sherie"  "And Grandma Gail will come"  "And Daddy"  and on and on and on.... It's cute and annoying all wrapped up into one adorable little blonde headed package... for real.

I can't even tell you how stoked I am about watching the Olympics.  I'll be the first to admit I turn into a raving, flag waving, patriotic sports lunatic when the its time for the games.  You could sell me anything red white or blue and I'd buy.  I LOVE them... I'm pretty sure Kate and William should invite me over to their pad to watch a few key events.  I'm good company and I would even steep their tea... for real.

Speaking of getting "sold".  I seriously bought that miracle cleaning solution from the door-to-door salesman from Detroit that says stuff like, "Oh, Mama... let me take care of that rust stain on your porch with this stuff. You got babies?  Let me clean some milk outta your carpet."  You know the ones.  Yep... I bought it.  And I love it.  No lie - it really does work well.  The way to my heart is through the Olympics or cleaning supplies.  Ok, or chocolate or babies.... particularly baby boys.  For real.

And back to baby boys... you should know that Ace is in love with the door stop things.  Like... a full hour or so of entertainment at a time... just boing - boing - boing-ing to his heart's content.  I could look at those fat little knee rolls he gets when he's folded over his favorite toys forever.  

They are delicious... for real.

And that... is a wrap.  

My eyelids are shutting involuntarily and unless I find some toothpicks to prop these suckers up... I gotta jet.

For Real.