Radioactive Jack

This past weekend we went yurting with five other families from our Sunday school class. Yurting is a lot like camping, except instead of a tent we stay in a yurt. (For the record, I never plan on tent camping. I'm actually not sold on yurting again either.)

Here is the yurt.

The children had a blast. Melody got to hang with her BFF, Ava, as well as a few older girls who fawned all over her. (Yes, she was in princess heaven.)

Here is Little Jack, Ava, Big Jack, and Melody.

This is Addie. Melody and Addie just love each other and stayed together most of the weekend.

Jack got to run around with the older kids, riding bikes and scooters.

We took several walks to the water fall, or water fountain, as Melody calls it.

And let's not forget about the staying up late and eating s'mores.

Since the kids were getting to stay up late, we gave them all those glow-necklaces and bracelets so it would be easier to see them in the dark.

My kids love those. They love them so much that they insisted on wearing them to bed.

So, late Friday night, we tucked them into the yurt and then walked back outside to where all the adults had their chairs placed, sitting around chatting. After about 15 minutes Alex walked back to the yurt to make sure the kids were asleep.

As expected, they weren't.

Jack was, however, glowing. All over.

Apparently that's what happens when one chews through the glow necklaces and the glow-making agent leaks out.

And now Jack is known as Radioactive Jack.

Are you OK?

My parents are in Colorado this week, skiing and vising my brother Ben.

Their trip reminded me of the last time we all went skiing together. We went to Park City, UT, in December 2000.

My mom and I are nowhere near as good as my dad and brothers We all ski on different levels and usually split up on the slopes.

However, on this particular day, we had meet up at the top to ski along the ridge.

We were enjoying a leisurely run down, enjoying the scenery and chatting.

Somehow my mother got a little ahead of us and when we all rounded the corner we found her sprawled on the ground.

"Are you OK?" my dad asked rushing towards her.

"I'm fine," replied my mom, "but I hope that guy I knocked off the mountain is OK!"

Suddenly, we see a ski come up over the edge and hear a voice say, "Don't worry, I'm OK!" Then up came the second ski.

With a little help, the guy was able to get back up onto the mountain and we all went on our way. Even though that was years ago, we still laugh every time we tell that story.

True Story Tuesday and Chinese syrup

Several months ago we decided to splurge for Chinese takeout. Usually we reserve Chinese for us and give the kids PB&Js but this time we decided to make it a family event.

Our children are not the most adventurous eaters but they. loved. it. We have added it to our list of places we will take our children to eat.

1. ChickfilA
2. Pizza
3. Chinese

In order to get them to try it, we had to fool them a bit.

Oh come on, you know you've done it too.

We told them that sweet & sour sauce was Chinese syrup and that the lo mein was Chinese pasta.

About halfway through the meal, once we realized they would willingly eat this again, we decided to teach them the real names so we wouldn't have to keep up this charade next time.

I said to Jack, "You know, in China they call Chinese syrup sweet & sour sauce."

"Oh," was his reply. "is that what they call it in Australia too?"

True Story Tuesday and don't take that

While last week was certainly a stressful week for our family, it was not without a few laughs.

As I was anxiously awaiting for my little guy to come out of surgery, I walked into his recovery room to find him like this.

Still groggy and mostly asleep.



The nurse wanted to show me his bandages before he woke up.

So, she pulled back the blanket and lifted up his gown...

And guess where his hand was?

That's right.

He's a boy isn't he?

It's almost like he was saying, "you can take my appendix, but leave the important stuff alone!"

True Story Tuesday and The Hunter

I try not to over-do candy at our house at Easter time since I end up eating it all in one sitting don't think kids need it. So we usually end up doing books and/or dvds in their Easter baskets.

Last year, the Easter Bunny brought Jack the Disney movie Bambi. This was despite the fact that Alex thinks Bambi is "liberal propaganda trying to teach children that animals are like people and hunting is bad." Blah blah blah.

However, we're also not big movie people so we didn't actually watch it until one day that summer.

Jack and Alex were hanging out while the other two were napping and I suggested they put it in. I reminded Alex of the hunting scene and told him to prepare Jack for what happens. As it turned out, that part didn't phase him one bit.

Later that day, I asked him what his favorite part was.

"The part when the hunter comes and shoots that deer!" was his excited reply.

Yes, the murder of poor Bambi's mother hunting scene.

I don't think Alex has ever been so proud.

(He's not actually hunting. This was his Halloween costume. And he told everyone he was a hunter because Bambi is his favorite movie.)


Head on over to Once Upon a Miracle for some more True Story Tuesdays!

True Story Tuesday and boobies

Boobs, in the past, have been a popular topic of conversation around our house.
And, yes we do call them boobs or boobies. I have totally been the bad mom that does not teach her children correct terms for their anatomy. And keep your comments to yourself since, yes, it has come back to bite me in the butt. But that's a story for another post.

Jack was 3 and a half when I was pregnant with Charlie and fascinated with my growing belly and the boobs that would be feeding the cause of the growing belly.

Frequently we would have conversations about who has boobs, when they get boobs, and the purpose of boobs.

This freaked me out generated a need for privacy to be taught at our house. I banned Jack from the bathroom whenever anything personal was taking place and we had many discussions about why privacy is important.

However, while I didn't have to deal with Jack staring at me, or rather, my boobs, whenever I was getting dressed anymore, our discussions on privacy had little impact on curbing the boob obsession.

One day I was standing in the kitchen while Jack and Melody were running outside on the deck. It was spring and fairly warm outside so they were shirtless.

"Mom! Come quick!" shouted Jack.

I ran outside to see him pointing at sweet, little Melody, sitting down, plump with all those rolls one year olds still have. You know those rolls. Where their wrists look like they had little rubber bands around them and their legs, tummy, and chest are still rolly polly.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

"Look at Melody! I think she's getting her boobies!"

True Story Tuesday and Do I Know You?

One of the best and worst things about a schedule C-section is knowing exactly when you'll have your baby.

While it's nice knowing and not having to wait around, I always experienced a lot of anxiety, especially in the hours preceding my delivery.

Getting the epidural was especially anxiety inducing. Would it hurt? What if I didn't get numb? My anxiety manifest itself in the form of crying. So, pretty much the whole time leading up to the delivery (Ok, and after too) I'm a basket case.

For those of you who experience childbirth the natural way, and are probably screaming in pain by the time your epidural is in place, I'll give you the scoop on how it works.

The anesthesiologist comes in, after I've signed my life away, and gives me the low-down. This is stuff along the lines of sit really still, this is what you'll feel, etc. Then s/he introduced me to the anesthesiologist nurse who basically acts as my personal assistant throughout the whole procedure.

Remember those gowns you have to wear? The ones that are pretty much designed so that all private areas are accessible at all times?

As I'm sitting there with my nine month pregnant self hanging out of this gown, the anesthesiologist instructs me to place my feet on Alex's knees while she inserts the epidural. The anesthesiologist nurse comes in at this point and introduces himself, as Ryan. I'm trying to be polite while I'm sniffling like an idiot holding back tears.

The epidural is in place and I'm waiting to get numbed enough for them to place the catheter in. (Yeah, fun times, I know.) Since my legs are going numb and I pretty much can't feel or move anything, I'm just having to lay there, my fashionable gown not covering anything, with Alex standing on one side of the bed and my personal assistant, Ryan, on the other.

It is at this point that Ryan says to Alex, "You look really familiar to me."

Alex responds with, "I was thinking the same thing? Did you wrestle for Vestavia? I think we wrestled together in high school."

"Yeah! That's it," says Ryan and a conversation ensues about their glory days of high school wrestling.

With me, lying on the bed between them, legs spread.

Let me tell you, that did A LOT to calm my nerves. Right.

All I have to say is that I've never pictured myself lying on a bed between two men. However, if I did, wrestling certainly would not be the topic of conversation and I would not be nine months pregnant.

Thankfully that's one experience I won't have to relive again!

True Story Tuesday and is that my sweater?

Here is my handsome husband. He's the one giving his brofriend bunny years. They have a special relationship like that, but that's material for another post.

You're probably wondering why I'm posting this picture. It's because it's the second to the last time my husband has worn that particular shirt. Which happens to be my favorite shirt. He wore it while we were out new year's eve.



When we got home, he asked that I bring his wool shirt to the dry cleaners. I told him sure and just to throw it in the laundry room and I would get it.

I forgot.

Oops. (And this was the last time he wore this sweater.)



Fortunately, someone in the family can still wear it!

True Story Tuesday and the gift

Time for True Story Tuesday over at Once Upon A Miracle!

**************************************************
Before Christmas, Melody's preschool lets all the kids "shop" for their parents. They have a little "Santa Shop" set up, the kids come in with a dollar and "buy" donated gifts for their parents.

It's super cute. When they bring their (wrapped) gift home most of them cannot contain their excitement and spill the beans right away.

Jack was one of those kids.
His first year of preschool he immediately told Alex he got him "sompin that you put da muney in." It was a John Deere bank!

Melody, however, didn't say a word. She's actually not some phenomenal secret keeper, she's just kind of indifferent. Her theory is; if it's not a cupcake, I just don't care that much.

So, Alex was really surprised when he opened his gift.

Yes, that's a car air freshener. A Georgia car air freshener to be precise. Which is totally ironic since we're about the biggest Auburn fans ever.

Alex asked her why she got him a Georgia car air freshener. (This was after Jack looked at it and exclaimed, "Dad, we hate Georiga!)

"It's not goes in da car. It fo-ur da twee. Here. You wet me hang it up hi-gh."

Yes, Melody got her daddy a Christmas tree ornament designed to make our tree smell like a new car (or a taxi cab). I'm not sure if it will be Alex's favorite ornament, but I know we'll hang it on the tree every year!

True Story Tuesday and what's that sound?

My True Story Tuesday this week is by request of Rachel, the True Story Tuesday genius over at Once Upon A Miracle.

The scene is one evening about 9:00, Alex and I are comfortably sitting on the couch watching TV engaged in interesting discussion.

Though our children have been asleep for well over an hour, we hear Jack's door open. We thinking nothing of it and just assume that he will use the restroom like he does most nights and then head right back to his room.

Now, the kids' bathroom is not too far from the stairs and if the door is open, it's relatively easy to hear what's going on in there. Sure enough, a few seconds later, we hear the unmistakable sound of, um, as Alex would say, "someone taking a leak."

Only it sounds loud. Really loud. Way too loud to be in the bathroom.

So, I walk into the hallway to peer up the stairs and see what's going on.

And I almost get peed on.

In his sleepy daze, Jack bypassed the bathroom completely and walked right over to the staircase. I'm assuming now, he was thinking about coming downstairs and telling us he had to go, but the urge got the better of him. He simply dropped his pants right there and took aim between the balusters. I have to tell you, it's quite shocking to walk over to the stairs and almost get hit in the face by a stream of pee.

By the time I pulled myself together enough to exclaim, "Jack!" he had already finished. He pulled his britches right up and headed right back to bed. Alex was totally cracking up. I have to admit I did giggle a little bit, but not as hard as Alex did. After all, I was the one that had to clean it up!

True Story Tuesday and the fake Christmas tree

You've probably noticed that we have a fake tree. Unless of course, you're used to seeing live trees perfectly triangularly shaped.

We haven't always had a fake tree. Up until Christmas 2006 we had always had a real, live tree.

Christmas 2006 was our first Christmas we stayed at home. Jack was 2 and I was almost 9 months pregnant with Melody.

A few weeks before Christmas we went over to Webb and Lindsey's house for a little Christmas cheer. When we arrived, Lindsey was frantically sweeping the floor. She insisted that she had swept several times that day but that she kept seeing stuff all over the floor. Webb and Alex go in for a closer look and discover (be prepared to be freaked out!) bugs crawling all. over. the. tree.

After completely freaking out (ok, only Lindsey and I freaked out) we quickly un-decorated the tree and disposed of it outside.

When Alex and I got home, we immediately inspected our tree (since we got it at the same place as they did). Fortunately, we were bug free. However, I just couldn't let it go and continually checked it over the next few days. And lo and behold, a few days later (be prepared to freak out again) bugs on my tree!

We un-decorated our tree and took it outside. We went back to the place where we bought it and they let us pick out another tree. After all we had to have a tree on Christmas! After careful inspection, we deemed it bug free and brought it home.

A few days later, on December 23, Jack and I were wrapping a few more gifts and placing them under the tree when I noticed some tiny specks on the floor. Yep, bugs again. (Cue more freaking out.)

I began un-decorating the tree and called one of Alex's buddies to help me drag it outside.

Remember at the beginning of this story when I mentioned that I was almost 9 months pregnant with Melody? Well, I tend to be a little on the dramatic hormonal side all the time when I'm pregnant. So, pregnancy hormones plus having two bug infested trees really pushed me over the edge.

By the time Marc got over here, I had already managed to drag the buggy tree outside. I then lopped off the top, (which was crawling, crawling with bugs by the way) and put it in a garbage bag and headed over to the place we got the tree. When I arrived I asked to see the manager. Looking back, I kind of feel bad for the poor guy. He was this nice guy and I don't think he knew what hit him when my hormones attacked him. I gave him the garbage bag and told every. single. detail. of the two bug infested trees. Including freaking out about how bugs were currently crawling over my very favorite angel tree topper (which was in the bag).

After I was finished he looked at me and asked me what I wanted him to do. My answer was simple and straight forward, "Get all the bugs off my tree topper and let me pick out an artificial tree and give it to me for free."

He didn't hesitate even a second before saying, "Deal." I think he was worried I might go into labor if I got any more worked up!

He took the bag from me and went to work on the tree topper while I walked back to where their artificial trees were. There were slim pickings since it was practically Christmas, however there was one relatively decent, pre-lit tree that I snagged. They loaded it into my car and off we went. My hormones were still raging and I some how managed to get this extremely heavy tree out of the car and up into the house and then I practically had the whole thing up and decorated by the time Alex got home from work.

Here we are in front of our fake, but more importantly, bug-free tree!

We have used the artificial tree for a number of reasons every year since. Convenience is certainly one of those reasons and I'm also a little nervous about having another bug infested tree. However, I think that next year we'll give the real thing another try. After all, finding the perfect tree is all part of the Christmas experience!

Don't forget to head on over to Once Upon a Miracle for some more True Story Tuesdays!

True Story Tuesday and Parenting 101

*Disclaimer: I've thrown Alex under the bus a few times so I just want it to be known that, while he does provide me with fabulous blogging material, he is a rockin' dad and a wonderfully romantic husband with a great sense of humor!*

On Thursday mornings my husband takes Jack to school. Since Melody has school at 8:45 and Jack has school at 8, I appreciate his willingness to go to work later than he prefers and save me some time.

However, since Daddy is home on Thursday, this makes for a very chaotic morning. This past Thursday was pretty much the most chaotic yet. In fact, reliving that morning over and over would probably be the equivalent of my personal hell. We had a busted, leaky diaper from Charlie that required a rinsing in the tub, a cleaning of the tub, and then an actual bath. After finally getting everyone dressed, downstairs, and settled at the table with their waffles.

Usually Daddy goes downstairs and works from home until it's time to leave. However, this time he brought his laptop upstairs and sat at the kitchen table.

While the kids are eating breakfast and I'm standing in the kitchen waiting to bring them more of whatever it is they want I realize I had forgotten to make Jack's lunch. As I'm trying to tell him to bring me his lunch bag and water bottle, he's in the midst of explaining to me that he refilled his water bottle yesterday so he doesn't need new water in it. As I'm trying to tell him him that water that is close to 24 hours old is not good and he just needs to obey me, he drops the water bottle (in the sink fortunately) sending water everywhere. He's still talking instead of listening to me and at some point a juice box flew out of my hand and hit the wall. (No idea how that happened. I swear) Alex is still just sitting at the table immersed in his email.

I finally get things cleaned up, talk to Jack about not talking when I'm talking, and get him off to school.

After dropping Jack off, my husband calls me to discuss the incident. I tell him that Thursday mornings are just too chaotic for me. I have a hard time getting the kids ready because they are excited that Daddy is there and that I expect him to help me but he's not because he's on the computer working. I told him that if he wanted/needed to work that was fine, but to please go down to the man-cave and stay there until it was time to leave for school.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't realize you expected me to parent."

(Yes, he was completely serious when he made that statement.)

Thank you, honey, for communicating so well with me. But let me clarify; if you are in the vicinity of your children, I do expect you to parent. Especially when I am on the brink of insanity and throwing juice boxes juice boxes are randomly flying about.

True Story Tuesday and I'm not talking about you

This is a story from my childhood. I had actually forgotten about this until I read Kmama's True Story Tuesday last week. I'm not sure if my mom is going to appreciate me telling this story, but since I'm an adult now and it's my blog there's not a lot she can do about it. Except, of course, call me and get onto me for blogging about this. She can threaten not to keep the kids anymore but we all know that's an empty threat. Ahem, love you, Mom!

Anyway, when I was a teenager, probably 14 or so, my mom and I were shopping with my aunt and grandma. Mom and I went into the dressing room to try on a few things leaving Aunt Karen and Grandma to browse. We were sharing a dressing room and talking quietly since there were other people trying on clothes as well. As my mom is stepping into a pair of pants the lady in the dressing room next to us totally lets one rip. It is seriously loud and disgusting! My mom looks at me (with her pants half on) and mouths "GROSS!!" The offending lady quickly gathers her things and hightails out of there. Being the nosy person I am was, I peak out of the room as she leaves.

A while later we are standing in line to make our purchases. There is a lady at the counter and then one other lady waiting and then us. The lady at the counter is none other than, dum-da-da-dum, poot-lady!

I whisper to my mom, "That's the lady that pooted!" "Are you sure?" Mom whispers back. "What are y'all talking about?" asks my aunt who's just as nosy as I am. "That lady paying was in the dressing room next to us and had the loudest poot ever." we told her.

While this conversation is taking place, the lady in between us and poot-lady keeps glancing over her shoulder at us. By this point, poot-lady has walked away but we are still talking about her. The lady in front of us starts to walk away, glancing over her shoulder at us one more time.

"I think that lady in front of us thought we were talking about her." I said to my mom. "Oh, no!" says Mom, who's pretty much the nicest person ever, "I feel so bad." "Go apologize" I encourage her. So my mom walks over to the lady and says, "Excuse me, I just wanted to let you know we weren't talking about you." The lady just looks at her. "We were talking about someone else" Mom explains. The lady just kind of looked at her and walked off. I'm sure she didn't believe her since my aunt and I were standing there watching and cracking up at the whole thing!

Head on over to Rachel's place for some more true stories!

I plan on having Part 2 of my Ask Me Anything post up tomorrow...I know you'll be on pins and needles waiting!

True Story Tuesday and The Class Clown

While walking through the mall the other day, this older gentlemen notices my two adorable children as we pass by.

He looks at Charlie and says, in a baby-ish voice, "Well, aren't you a cute little baby?"

Melody looks at him and mimics replies, "Well, aren't you a cute little man!"

Thankfully the man busted out laughing and said, "I think she just made fun of my baby talk."

Melody of course laughed hysterically as well.

Class clown? Most definitely.

Head over to Rachel and Mr. Daddy's place for some more true stories.

True Story Tuesday and then there were nine

Some of you may not know that I have two younger brothers.

Andrew is the youngest. He's the dude on the right and is currently a senior at Georgia Southern studying geology and Spanish.

Ben, on the left, graduated from Wake Forest Law in 2008, and currently lives in Denver, Colorado.

They both unanimously agree that I am the world's coolest sister.

2006, on the road to Assisi in Perugia, Italy

While I have many, many funny true stories about both brothers, at Lauren's request, I'm blogging about Ben today.

Ben and I in November 2006 after he ran the Richmond Marathon.

As I'm sure you have gathered from the pictures, my brothers are cool, hip dudes. They like to go out and party. Especially Ben. In college and law school, he did his fair share and we all know that when you party you run the risk of immature, intoxicated people harming you.

A few years ago, at a party, someone stepped on Ben's toe. Have you ever had your toe stepped on? I have not, but I did see my brother's after it happened and it was gross. His toenail was all back. Disgusting. Anyway, later on he told me that his toenail fell off!

About a year or so later, I noticed that his toenail was black again. Yeah, I know, we talk about feet at lot. It's because neither of my brothers wear shoes unless it's necessary and they are always putting their feet in my line of sight or worse, on me. When I asked what was going on with his grody toe he said that someone stepped on it again. Seriously, what are the chances?! And bye-bye Mr. Toenail.

Mr. Toenail grew back mostly intact, but not the same. Each time it grew back, it grew back smaller and apparently had other issues that irritated Ben. Fast forward to this summer and Ben, who is an avid skier, (which is why he moved out to Colorado; it's not because he was trying to get away from the rest of the family!) trying on a ski boot. Apparently the toenail hurt so bad that he couldn't even stand to wear the boot. This prompted Ben into some serious action. He contacted an orthopedic surgeon (Why not a podiatrist? I have no idea.) who looked at his toe and said that scar tissue under the nail was causing the pain. So, last week, Ben went under the knife and endured toe surgery! Don't worry, he's recovering nicely and it looks at though this ski season won't be a total wash as he should be back out on the slopes within a month or so.

However, the surgeon had to remove his toenail in order to remove the scar tissue! Yes, I did feel kind of bad when he told me that and I laughed so hard that I almost cried.

Go check out some more true stories over at Rachel and Mr. Daddy's place.

True Story Tuesday and my dancin' husband

True Story Tuesday again over at Once Upon A Miracle.

I'm not sure how much Alex will appreciate me posting this story, however, it's my blog and, honestly, it's just too funny not to tell!

Our first night in Cancun, we walked down to the beach front bar for a few drinks after dinner. After sitting, chatting, and listening to the waves for a while, we started to head back upstairs but we sidetracked by the "game time" going on over by the pool area. We were pulled from the crowd for a couples dancing game.

After a few minutes, though, they made all the women sit down but kept the guys up there.

Then they picked a few guys to pretend to be the women.

Guess who got picked?
(Yes, those are balloons shoved up his shirt!)

Do you think Alex had a good time?
Watch the video to find out!

True Story Tuesday and how to fool your husband

My husband was thrilled when we bought a house with a finished basement and immediately dubbed it the Man-Cave.

Over our past 2+ years in this house the Man-Cave has slowly morphed into the Dog-Cave/Man-Hole.

Alex didn't want a place to burp and scratch in peace relaxing, testosterone filled room as much as he wanted a place to dump all his junk and keep his dog. Anyone who knows me in real life, knows that's just not gonna fly. Over the past two years the Man-Cave has simply become unlivable. It's just a mess and more of a junk room than a Man-Cave. It reeks of dog and, in the past few months, the dog has succeeded in destroying the carpet in his quest for a perfect bed.

Here is the carpet in the back corner of the Man-Cave.

We have been talking about making some changes to the Man-Cave and have finally started this weekend.

The two main changes we are immediately making is new paint and a new floor.

We recently had our family room painted a light pale yellow color (Lantern from Sherwin Williams to be precise). I told Alex that I wanted the basement painted the same color. I like rooms to flow well and it's a cheery, light color which will certainly lighten up a dark a basement.

His immediate response to this was, "Yellow is not a manly color and certainly not appropriate in a Man Room."

I told him to think of a few manly colors he would like and he said he would get back to me.

I spent the next day thinking about how I could trick my husband lovingly convince my husband that my way was better.

*lightbulb*

I took the swatch of color and a pair of scissors and cut the color name off the top.

Later that night, as we are sitting in the family room chatting, I casually say, "I think I found the perfect, manly color for the Man-Cave."

Alex looks at me with a skeptical expression.

I hand him the swatch.

His skeptical expression does not change.

"That color is called Beer Foam," I say.

"Now that's more like it!" Alex responded.

And that, my friends, is how true compromise works.

True Story Tuesday - the day the dress broke

Today I am celebrating 8 years of wedded bliss.

And in honor of this celebration, I'm going to share a true story that took place on my wedding day.

It's one of those totally-not-funny-at-the-time-but-hilarious-now stories.

Dress shopping was one of my favorite wedding preparation experiences. Who doesn't love dress shopping?! And wedding dress shopping? Even better. My dad actually went with me to pick out my wedding dress. He narrowed it down to two and I chose his second favorite.

Like all brides, the wedding gown fitting is an important part. Several times I drove from Auburn to Atlanta to try on my gown and have it adjusted. Let it out a little here, take it in a little there.

The last fitting I had was just the week of my wedding.

When I put the dress at the last fitting, I commented that it was a little tight around the bust line. (Those were the days of my fabulous bust line.) The seamstress and I discussed options and since there were only a few days before my wedding, it didn't seem too tight and I didn't want to let it out only to have to worry about tugging it up all day, I decided that I would just leave it the way it was and, you know, make sure not to eat a lot that week.

Fast forward to the morning of the wedding and my Granny fluttering all around reminding me to eat. She kept talking about how she once saw a groom pass out at a wedding because he hadn't eaten all day. She tell me this as I'm getting out of the shower, again as I'm headed out to get my hair done, and again as I'm getting ready to go to the church.

Of course, I'm thinking, "I can't eat! I have to fit into my dress!"

I go to the church, hair done, make-up applied, into the dress, suck in and button.

Ahhhh, perfect.

Out to take pictures and then back to the brides room to wait for the actual ceremony. Enter Granny. Still going on (and on) about eating. This time, though, she's armed with a tray of pastries. The temptation proves to be too much and I reach for one.

Apple danish. YUM!

I scarf it down and then bend over to grab a napkin...

All of a sudden I feel and hear a popping sound. Then suddenly I have a more freeing sensation around the top of my dress.

Yes, that top button had popped right off!

I immediately knew what happened, however, my lovely bridesmaids gather around me telling me that the button has just come undone. They are looking for a safely pin and then spend a lot of time attempting to safely pin it together. All the while, assuring me the button as merely become unfastened. In walks my mother-in-law and joins the hoopla trying to safety pin my dress as well. In walk my own mother and aunt. The take one look at all the commotion and just walk back out.

Can you believe someone (and I'm not sure who!) took pictures of this fiasco!?!



Now, I don't actually know how long the whole process took but it felt like an hour. It was definitely long enough for me to eat one more danish.

A nice shot of rum to calm me down and a little while later I was ready to walk down the aisle and sign my life away marry the man of my dreams.

Ironically enough, the dress actually fit perfectly after the button broke! I was able to dance the night away! And I am happy to say that was really the only snaffu we experienced. Mostly.

We had a gorgeous wedding and a fabulous 8 years and I can only imagine how wonderful the rest will be!

Happy anniversary, babe! I'm so glad I married you!

True Story Tuesday - pushing carts

For those of you who don't know, I dislike Target. I know, I know. Many of you are gasping in shock and re-reading that sentence because, certainly I didn't mean it!

Sorry, it's true. Shopping at Target is just impulse buying at it's worst. You can't come out of Target without spending $100. Plus there's no running in for something really quick. No, Target is always a process.

I try to go as little as possible, but sometimes a trip there is unavoidable.

For some reason, I made the mistake of making my first outing with three small children a Target outing.

There is a Target right by our house, but for some reason I decided to go to this other Target still relatively close but a little farther away. This Target is recently redone and pretty nice. It does have a Starbucks in it which makes it slightly better. However since there are no cup holders in the carts, walking around, monitoring three children and pushing a cart while holding a Starbucks really isn't possible for someone with a mere two arms. Seriously, think outside the box people.

Anyway, we go into Target, get the 3 things on our list as well as about 10 other items since Target is designed to increase impulse buying exponentially. We check out and get ready to walk out the door when I notice it's raining.

Fan-freakin'-tastic.

Three children, one who is an infant only a few weeks old, and several bags of stuff.

I decide to make a run for it. Melody and Charlie are both in the cart and I grab Jack's hand and tell him to walk very fast with me. We make it to the car, I grab Charlie's carrier, snap him in, throw the bags in as Jack climbs in and then grab Melody. As I place her in the car, her foot slips and she falls out on her head. Yes, you read that right, smack on her head. I pick her up and jump in the car with her (as it's now raining harder and I'm pretty wet and cold) and shut the door. (She was alright and just a little scared.)

Now is probably a good time to mention that for some reason Target's parking lot is on a hill. Seriously, what kind of building planner thought that was a good idea. Um, yeah, let's built a store where 90% of the people use carts to shop and put the parking lot on a hill. And not a slight hill either, it's pretty steep!

So, after I closed the door, I'm pretty sure my cart rolled away. I have no idea where it went and since my baby had fallen flat on her face I really couldn't care less.

However I'm assuming it bumped another car.

I'm assuming this because a few seconds later some punk 20 something kid with an earring came up and tapped on my window to inform me that he saw me "pushing carts in the parking lot".

I informed him that I pushed nothing and that my baby had fallen on her face and I didn't give a rats A55 where my cart went after that. And for that matter, if they didn't expect carts to roll around they shouldn't have built the Target on a freakin' hill!

He then informs me he's going to call the police and report me.

Um, obviously he's never dealt with a wet, cold, sleep-deprived, lactating, still-fat-from-baby-weight-and-not-happy-about-it mom before.

I opened the door and told him that would be wonderful and when they get here they could go ahead and arrest him for harassing me. And that if he continued to harass me while I waited for them to arrest him that would be OK because I had enough adrenaline and hormone surging through my body to flatten his A55 right then and there.

He got the message and just turned and scurried out of there.

So there you go, my first outing by myself as a mommy of three and I get busted for pushing carts.

Check out more true stories at Once Upon a Miracle.

Alex, by himself, plus 6

It's time for True Story Tuesday again over at Once Upon A Miracle!

This week's TST comes from Alex's perspective. Alex babysat six children on Friday so that Lauren and I could go out on the town! Here's his take on the evening...

The girls left to go out around 7. They looked awesome. You know, I just love it when Emily hangs out with Lauren. Especially when they go shopping together. I'm so glad that my wife has someone to share her love of shopping with. (OK, I added all that but I'm sure Alex thinks that, right?!)

About 7:20 I hear crying upstairs. I hope it's one of my kids. It's not. I go into Charlie's room and there's EJ crying up at me. Great. What do I do for this kid? So, I lay her back down and pat her back. She's still crying. I pat some more. I leave the room and hope she falls back asleep.

She doesn't.

I go back in the room. She's staring at the door and crying. Pat, pat, pat. Still crying. I go downstairs and call Emily praying she answers her phone. Thankfully she does and they are just down the street at Webb (you know, my brofriend) and Lindsey's house.

I talk to Lauren and (since I don't want to seem incompetent...after all, I have three children myself!) I tell her I'll give it a few more minutes and call if she doesn't stop crying.

She doesn't.

I call back. They decide to swing back home.

Then I hear a strange sound. It sounds like a baby crying but it's not Charlie over the monitor. Is it EJ, I wonder? I go back upstairs and into the room. EJ's actually being quiet, but I still hear that crying. I walk over to the crib and holy s*#^ there's another baby in there!! What the?... Oh, yeah, Lauren did have another baby a few months ago!

Hm, two crying children, neither of whom are my offspring. Girls on their way back home. I decide it's not my problem any more and go back downstairs to finish my beer. After all, Shark Week is on!

And that's a true story by Alex!