In Your Face

"Wow. Your makeup looks really good today!" my husband glanced away from the traffic ahead to pay me the highest of compliments.

"Uh. I'm not wearing any makeup," I said.

"I know," he said, smiling slyly. "I know."

Yup - after 8 years of dating and 11 years of togetherness my husband still knows how to compliment me, insult me, and also guarantee a night on the couch - all in one breath.

Now THAT'S talent.

:)

Domistic Bliss and Other Lies I Tell Myself

On Thursday I decided to be Lil Miss Happy Homemaker and whip up a giant pot of homemade vegetable soup.

Here are the ingredients:

Every canned vegetable you have in the house

Every bag of frozen vegetable in the freezer

Four Taters (Potatoes to you non-country folks)

Two cans stewed tomatoes

Two cans of water (I used the tomato can to measure)

A can of Tomato Sauce

Some salt

Some sugar

Some pepper (cracked)

And a can of Corned Beef

Toss in pot and boil for a bit, then simmer and then let it go for hours.

I only had two problems by the end of the day.

One was that I threw my back out AGAIN - obviously because my warranty didn't cover extraneous things like COOKING DINNER and --

Two, this kid kept following me around:

Ever tried to peel potatoes with one hand while simultaneously trying to keep a cabinet from being flung into your shins with the other?

It's talent, I tell you, TALENT.

Wanna know HIS talent?

He will only poop in a clean diaper.

And - he can clear a room in thirty seconds flat soon thereafter.

In that way he takes after his father.

Who is so proud.

And he'll tell you himself - when he gets out of the potty.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL YOU OUT THERE WHO CELEBRATE IT, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO THOSE WHO DON'T AND HAPPY 25TH OF DECEMBER TO THOSE WHO ARE PERPETUALLY CONFUSED OR WHO DON'T LIKE GIFTS BECAUSE THEY WERE DROPPED ON THEIR HEADS, OR RAISED BY WILD GRINCHES OR --- I DON'T KNOW, ARE TEAM EDWARD OR SOMETHING.

(hee hee)

Throwing the Game

The rugrat is now 20 months old.

That's a full-on toddler for those of you who don't know and over a year and a half for those of you who can't do math.

He's a ball of energy, so sweet, and so forgiving - and other times he's hell-on-size-8C-shoes, but I digress.

Yesterday my husband and I are playing "football" with the kid.

"Here, take the ball from Daddy! TACKLE!" and they'd both tumble to the ground in a heap of giggles and exposed buttcracks (neither can seem to hold up a pair of pants with or without the aid of a belt or a butt).

Eventually Daddy decided to try tossing the football at the kid.

Who is still working on fine motor skills.

So, ya know, the football, covered in blue smiling smurfs, beans him right in his grinning, gap-toothed face.

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Daddy scoops him up and covers his little face with kisses and the game was back on.

Several minutes later my husband looks at me and says: "Wonder if that hurts? I better try it out." I watch in disbelief as he takes off his glasses, removes his hat and positions the football a few inches from his face.

WHOOOOOOSH!

The football, so carefully aimed, flies OVER his curly head, past the baby gate, down the hallway and into the laundry room.

"How in the HELL did you miss THAT?!?!?" I cried in between gasps of hornking laughter.

"Ahahahahah! I'm AWESOME!" he said.

And then got tackled by a toddler seeking revenge and packing wooden blocks.