Tuesday, March 31, 2009

And the Fruity Drink Saga Continues...

Where were you at 5:00 Last Thursday afternoon???  I was laying on the beach in St. Martin pretending I didn't have two kids at home or about 10 loads of laundry that needed to be done....Instead I was frolicking on the beach with a HOT man not even feeling the LEAST bit self conscious about my body (probably because there were 72 year old women in G-string tops and bottoms, all the while weighing in at a cool 350..no joke).  Nonetheless, I had a blast.  I love him.  I love him.  I soooo love him.



















So, this past weekend the boy and I took a quick, mini-vacay to St. Martin.  While I am so thankful for the time away, let me just tell you that St. Martin is NOT a mini vacay type of place.  The island was beautiful, and we had what I am convinced was the BEST Italian food I've ever had in my whole life.  You need, at minimum, a good 7 days to really enjoy the island, but I can tell you we made the most of the four days we were there.  We are SO blessed that my mom lives here, because I NEVER worry about my girls when I'm gone.  I mean, I have the regular "what if this or that happens" thoughts, but I know they are with someone who loves them, snotty noses, nasty boogers, stinky pull-ups, and all, and I can relax with that knowledge....

The funniest thing on the entire trip (besides my ultra friendly-post fruity drink self) was the day we got there.   We were checking in, and Mr. Surprises hands me an envelope and tells me to tell him what it says.  Keep in mind, he NEVER lets me open anything, because God only knows what he's put together.  So, I oblige, open the envelope (thinking it's the standard "welcome to our island paradise" letter, and begin reading, aloud, our confirmation for a romantic, private dinner on the beach for the next night. He then looks at me and begins to tell me how nosey I am!!! HUH?????  I did nothing more than laugh at him and tell him how glad I was to be there with him.  So sweet.  Anyway, I won't bore you with the nitty gritty details of the trip, but enjoy the G-rated photos I was able to include.  See ya.....




Sunday, March 22, 2009

Baby got back...or at least wishes she did.

The title of this post may seem a little off, at first, but if you give me a second to take care of a few administrative tidbits I promise it will make sense.  Peerless and I had to take a trip to Chicago this past week, so he could have an extremely in depth (think 2 days of poking, prodding, x-rays, mri's, and what he fondly refers to as "electrocution) examination of his 32 year old body which functions at times like one 20 years its senior.  While I HATED to see him subjected to all of that, I can't lie and say I wasn't happy.  Not happy he was going through it, but happy that this really signaled yet another step in the direction of football being over.  I love the fact that my husband was blessed to live out his dream playing a game that he absolutely loves and is fantastic at.  I love the fact that other little boys who grew up in the inner city can look at P and see that YOU CAN MAKE IT without robbing someone, selling drugs, or buying into it when people tell you're not good enough!  I love the fact that I've made and continue to maintain friendships with some PHENOMENAL women through our travels with different team.  I love all of that.  I also love that my husband can walk from room to room without the assistance of a cane, wheelchair, walker, or me.  I love that the two year old can use him as a human jungle gym, and the eight year old has a steady sparring partner.  I love all of these, and I love knowing that I don't have to worry about him stepping onto a field and all of that coming to an end.  There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, back to the matter at hand.  My butt.  My family symbol is "the Jackson butt."  For a brief period in high school, I really knew mine was well on its way.  I could fill out a pair of jeans in the derriere, and feel oh so nice about doing it.  Most of the women in my family have watched over the years as their Jackson butts have spread beyond recognition.  My great aunt, Lauron, has such a donk that I SWEAR she could stroll in Magic City and put all the other (ahem) "dancers" to shame.  She's 70!  It's just what has been in my family...the women have all--at some point--had a big ol' butt.  

With that backdrop, understand my dilemma.  I have been feverishly squatting, lunging, and stepping up for the past 3 years in an effort to GET the Jackson butt that is my BIRTH RITE!  I don't understand why I can't seem to get this butt.  Also, understand that I want it.  I have cousins who make jokes that they'd gladly give me an ounce of theirs.  UMMMM...I WANT IT.  It depresses me to look at tv, because all the women have butts.  For example, this da** Kim Kardashian.  Why is her butt like that????  Where did it come from? And where can I buy it???  Jessica Biel???  When did that happen????  All I want is to walk out of the room, sashaying my butt, and KNOWING my husband was watching me walk away thinking dirty thoughts all the while.  Sir Mix-a-lot is my ENEMY, because I KNOW Baby does NOT have back, but she wants it........*sigh*

Friday, March 13, 2009

First off, see my beautiful shoes that my hubby gifted to me the other day? He can be so sweet....Big ups to Gwen Stefani for her L.A.M.B. summer collection.  I needed black sandals, and he hooked me right on up:


I'm in the bed recovering from an oral surgery from this morning...YUCK.  I always hate that after anesthesia feeling, and that's what I'm going through right now.  Mimi is over with the girls, instead of them spending the night with her, because she's my mama and still worries about me like I'm 4.  She didn't want me to be here alone, because she didn't trust that I'd take my medicine...or eat...or any of the things you're supposed to do during recovery.  Gotta love that Mimi.

The boy just left for the Hawks' game with his friend, Ray.  I told him to go ahead and go, because I didn't want him here sulking about having to stay in.  I'm telling you he has adult ADD.  He is an on the go type of guy, and I knew staying here with me would be no fun, so I told him find him a friend and have a boys night. We went to the game this past Wednesday, anyway, so I'm hoping he has a good time.  OK...I'm headed to lay down and ice my face.


Sunday, March 1, 2009

SPLITSville.....

Every now and then the athlete in my husband will jump into OVERDRIVE, thereby causing him to engage in activities which may be...well...HARMFUL to his health.  Take, for instance, last night.  We were having a pleasant evening (day two of the weekend with the children).  Caeden and I were sitting on the couch having just finished watching "Space Chimps", when in walks her father.  I could tell from the walk, alone, that he was in a challenging mood.  He had the gait of a male alpha lion in the wide open sahara of Africa, walking around looking for his next victim.  He came around that corner, and I HAD to look away.  I just KNEW something was about to go down.  Caeden proceeds to jump off the couch and slip into a split.  Keep in mind, she hadn't stretched, hadn't practiced, hadn't ANYTHING, and went into a pretty good split.  This somehow presented Peerless with the prime challenge material.  The next think I knew Caeden was running to the back to get P a pair of shorts (his jeans were just too constricting), so that he could demonstrate for us that he could get down into a full split.

So, here we are:  Caeden and Peerless on the floor in front of me, and Kai a little behind them too young to know not to try to imitate them.  Caeden steps up.  BAM. She falls into her split.  I tell her her back leg isn't all the way straight, and she just rolls up and straightens it.  She then gets up, looks at her father, and then back down at the floor as if to silently say "your turn."  I was laughing hysterically by this point, but it got even better.  Slowly, P inches his way into what he self describes as a perfect split.  His back leg was about as straight as a boomerang, and he is utterly and completely proud of himself.  He SELF DECLARES himself the winner, and then struts around the house for the rest of the night telling us how he did really good.  Did I mention his explanation for the boomerang leg?  He said that he did GREAT....for a 32 year old semi-retired athlete.....The laughs never stop in this house!