So what do I wish for them?

**In commemoration of today, I decided to re-post this blog post from two years ago.

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Sometimes, certain things happen in life that change a person. Changes who they are, how they react, how they view life and whether or not they want to off themselves.

Oh, and when it happens twice? In one lifetime?

Complete and utter devastation. Doom. Disaster. End of times. 

Might-as-well-call-yourself-a-liberal-and-advocate-for-free-obamaphones.

What am I talking about? Let me get you up to speed here...

I had a precious, precious baby boy on March 14th, 2010. He was born within five hours of arrival at the hospital and only required 2.5 vaginal pushes. When he first came out, I noticed the abundance of goo and sticky-ness all over him and promptly asked the nurses to clean that thing off before handing it to me but more so, I saw what an incredible head of hair goobaby had. I mean...amazing.

day one of being alive

That head of hair kept on keepin' on, as it grew into the most amazing ringlet curls you ever did see on a little boy. And the naysayers who told me to cut it? Sheeew....I'll cut you if that's alright.

It was beautiful.

I prided myself on his long, thick curly hair. I loved it. And no amount of anyone telling me to cut it would detract me. I mean, the ringlets! Seriously?!

But then we went to the Caribbean and left the kids with my parents. And my mom decided to take Colt for a haircut. "Just to trim his bangs" she said.

Mmhmm. Right. 

That visit "just to trim his bangs" ended up with this hack masterpiece...

I came home from the Bahamas and wanted to cry. And I did. Hard, bad, ugly tears.

I was so pissed that I just said "eff it," and shaved his entire head.

We were heading off to Hawaii the next week (where my dreams of having a long haired surfer baby frolicking in the ocean were demolished into teeny tiny pieces) and my mom tried to make a funny by saying "well maybe they will think he's a Make-A-Wish baby and give you special attention."

Really funny mom, real funny.

That was almost one year ago. And finally, finally, my little angel baby's hair was growing back. 

this photo was taken just a few days ago

Fast forward to yesterday. I asked Rob if he could be home between 11 and 2 so I could go visit my sister and her new baby. I had a very relaxing time at my sisters house holding my sweet little Poppy, relishing in my time alone and feeling confident in the fact that my kids were in good hands.

I kissed Poppy and the twins goodbye, got in my car, jacked up some old skool Britney and arrived back at home in record time. I walked in the door and as per the usual, both kids came bombarding towards me with hugs and kisses.

Except.

Oh Except.

What I saw next I don't think I will ever be able to erase from my memory. See, my love for my kids is tethered to their appearance. They look good, I look good. They look bad? Well, wasn't me...

Cute kids are just easier to love...

But for all seriousness. I have an image to upkeep. I am the tree. My kids are the branches. They are a reflection on me. And when I came home from visiting my precious newborn niece and saw this???

WHAT! THE! F&%K?!?!?

I mean...I just...I....I....I HAVE NO WORDS!!!

Turns out, while I was rocking the presh Poppy to sleep a mere ten miles away, my husband decided to take the kitchen scissors and give my youngest a trim.

In his exact words:

"he wanted his hair out of his eyes so I got it out of his eyes."

Yes, yes you did Rob. You did indeed get his hair out of his eyes. Thank you for that, btw, as in the past few hours he has been compared to a few pretty impressive people.

Such as Lloyd Christmas from Dumb & Dumber...

right down to the em-effing missing tooth!!

and Ishmael from Kingpin...

really?? did he have to cut his bangs so far back?!

The text comments I received were the icing on the cake, however.

From my mom - Omg! Which bowl did he use?

From my cousin - Is Rob drunk?

From my sister - Well at least now you have good blogging material.

From my other sister - Buahahahahahahahahaha!!!

I am just SO heartbroken.

I mean, could you love a face haircut like this?

Well??!?

ps. your guys' comments on instagram last night? Had me rolling. So thankful for you all to make light of such a situation. You provided me with many good laughs.

Let's just get it out there. Chuck E. Cheese is a disaster. Unless you have an affinity for drug deals underneath the animatronic show, contracting herpes or really, really bad pizza, most people avoid the place like Planned Parenthood on a Saturday.

Rob and I didn't plan to take our kids to Chuck E. Cheese, no, instead we took them to the much more socially acceptable local trampoline park, which turned out to be closed because it was a Sunday - a weekend day - aka a day all kids are out of school - aka one very bad business decision because hello! it's the weekend and when else are kids supposed to break an ankle jumping into the foam pit…however that is neither here nor there and the moral of the story is the tramp park was closed, our kids were pretty upset and after ten minutes of begging to go to Chuck E. Cheese instead we gave in like most incompetent parents these days who would rather just say yes than expend energy actually, like, parenting.

So there we were. It was shoulder-to-shoulder traffic, much like Vegas on New Years Eve except Rob wasn't drunk. (I was, in case you missed that. Turns out, plastic Starbucks containers with "water" is perfectly acceptable for a high-class joint like Chucks.) Somehow, Rob and I got split up, with him in one corner of the place with one kid while I was on the other side with my 5 year old.

There is this game similar to jump rope. You stand on a platform and when the digital lights circle around, you "jump" over them. The line was five deep. My precious little angel baby was waiting patiently, super excited to try his turn and win a few tickets that at best would get him a piece of gum. (You know how they do there -- get your kids all uber excited about winning all these prize tickets and then when they get to the counter to claim their reward, their only options are paperclips or superglue, unless you pony up twenty extra bucks and then they get to pick out an amazing toy that would cost you $6.99 at Target.)

Back to the story. Gunner's turn was coming up. We had been waiting a while and there was only one person in front of him. A girl, about nine years old. She stepped up to the platform and took her turn. When her time ran out, she reached into her pocket and plunked in another token. Alright, no big. So she got a little overly juiced up and wanted to continue on her winning streak. After her second turn was over, I was astounded when she reached into her pocket yet again and plunked yet another token into the machine.

You know when you say something to your dog that really entices them such as "want a treat?!" and they kind of cock their head to the side like so? Yeah, that. That is what I did as I watched this little hussy in front of me overstay her welcome. And then Gunner looking up at me with his angel eyes wondering why he wasn't getting a rightfully deserved turn to jump rope his way to a plastic superhero toy marked up 2000% really lit a fire inside of me.

Of course, given that I'm a decent human and forgiving the fact that this female was only in the single digit age bracket, I politely waited for her to finish her third turn and caught her attention right before she was about to reach into her pocket again for a token.

"Hi there, would it be okay for my son to have a turn now? He's been waiting in line for a while."

Homegirl looked right at me, gave me her best you disgust me look and turned back around to play another turn.

That dog-head-cocked-to-the-side thing? Imagine if that dog was possessed, about to have an exorcism performed on him. Also see : Oh haaaaaaiiiillllllll no girlfriend!

So I took a step forward and stood between the jump rope machine and the hustler. Still nicely, still politely, still giving this young lady the benefit of the doubt. I mean, maybe her mother watched The View while pregnant, you never know. And once again, I declared, "you don't understand. My son has been waiting patiently in line and it's his turn. You had three turns and now it's his turn."

What came next I am still trying to grapple with. I mean, I didn't walk into Chuck E. Cheese's thinking we were at some upscale Build-A-Bear workshop. I knew what I was facing. For God's sake, I snuck in vodka in a Starbuck's container! Still. Still. I wasn't expecting to hear the following:

"Go ahead ugly. You look like the Kardashian with the big nose."

Right about now would usually be the time I would pull out my numchucks and karate a bitch, but I was just so…...I mean.…..did she just…...???

Oh. my. gawd. 

She said I look like Khloe Kardashian.

Forget my kid and his jump rope aspirations.

This is the BEST. DAY. EVER.

Like, ever.

(Please God let her have been referring to Khloe and not Bruce.)

On Fridays, I sometimes like to repost one of my favorite old posts.

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To my two boys, the loves of my life and the reason my life is worth living:



just a few words from your momma...

Treat people kindly. Respect the elderly. Share your toys.

Laugh a lot.



Violence is not the answer, but self defense is. 

Never, ever start a fight. But you better damn well finish it. 

If I ever find out you are being a bully or partaking in bully-like activity, be prepared to come home to nothing more in your room than a bed, one blanket, and one change of clothes. That includes underwear. Everything will be taken away from you. You will have no privileges and I can only imagine the talking to you will get from your father. Believe me when I say you will feel like you are at the strictest, toughest boarding school ever if you bully another human being. That is, if we don't decide to just send you away to one.

That goes for sticking up for the person you see getting bullied also. Standing back and doing nothing is just as bad as being the bully yourself. Remember that. 

If you want to paint your fingernails pink, paint 'em pink.



However I would prefer you go with "bad-ass black."


(also, don't overdo it on the self tanner like your momma tends to do)

I will at times force you to do things that put you outside your comfort zone. I'll never put you in danger, but sometimes we all need a little "push" in order to overcome our fears.



You can thank me later.

I hope you become strong men, the leader of your household, the provider for your family and the ultimate protector. I hope through my teaching and example that one day you will find a woman to marry who upholds Christian values and has strong moral character. Someone who is not tarnished by the feminist movement and who believes in standing by and sticking with her man. 

I hope that you will always see the value in that and will in turn treat your woman like a goddess, always put her on a pedestal and never think twice about swimming through shark infested waters just to bring her a lemonade.



I hope you always stand up for what is right, even if it's not the popular opinion.
Especially if it's not the popular opinion.

I hope you to stand by your convictions, keep your word and always stay loyal to those whom you love. If you mess up even once, it's hard to get that trust back.

On the other hand, I hope you know that you are not, in fact, superman. You will fail and you will fall down. But it's how you get up and start again that is the true measure of a man.

I hope you always stay close to your momma, but once you are married, your wife is your first priority, and she is the one who matters most. If you marry the right woman, then she should be. 

I hope you raise your own children with an iron first, so they can see what it means to be a strong man and father. However, I hope you aren't too tough that you aren't afraid to cry with your children and show vulnerability. And to always tell them you love them. Tell them everyday. They need that.

Also, get down on the floor and wrestle with them every chance you get.

Thank you for letting me take gazillions of pictures of you. Because we both know that when I present something like this:



what you really feel about my always shoving the camera in your face is this:



Thank you for letting me get those moments on film so I can keep them with me forever.

Also, please forgive me for putting your guys' hair in a ponytail.



And for dressing you up like a girl.


(In my defense, this only happened once)

Never betray your brother. When the whole world is against you, your brother will never leave your side. You may not believe me now, but he IS your best friend.



Respect your country. You may not always agree with the person in power, but remember, it could be a lot worse elsewhere.

Don't believe that you know it all. That couldn't be further from the truth and it just makes you look silly. A wise man knows that he is never done learning.

Hold on to your innocence for as long as possible.

Work hard. Very hard. Get your hands dirty. Your dad and I will always spoil you with love, but when it comes to making a living, that will be completely up to you. Even if we have millions by the time we die, it won't just be handed over to you. You will have to work for every penny.



Please don't be a cat person. Your mom hates cats.

On the other hand, always have a dog in the house. On your worst days, that dog will love you unconditionally. He always will. Even if you forget to feed him or leave him out in the snow. THAT, my friend, is true love right there.

Always open the door for women and the elderly. Give up your seat for the pregnant. Chivalry is becoming a lost art, it's up to you guys to keep it alive.

Let the kids win.

Always lead, never follow.

Unless you are following Jesus Christ.

Just try never to let Him get too far out of your sight.

And always, always, alwaysalwaysalwaysalwaysalways

know just how much I love you.

 So here's one for ya. You know how sometimes my husband works out of town? When he's gone, I always make my sister Boobie come stay with me. She sleeps downstairs in my bed and I sleep upstairs in the guest bed (only because my kids are upstairs also and they can be noisy sometimes, so since Boobie is doing me a favor of staying with me so I don't get killed alone by a serial murderer, I figure the least I can do is give her my room and let her sleep in peace). 

Well last night my husband decided to drive home at 2 in the morning and surprise me. He went around to the back of the house and tried to open our bedroom door. It was locked. (Which it usually never is.)

And that? Happened to be very, very, VERY unfortunate. 


See, he was going to sneak into our bedroom, strip naked 
and crawl into bed with MY SISTER!!! 


Oh Lord God up in Heaven, had that actually come to fruition it would have made my life complete and I could have died happy right then and there.

Guys, it would have been perfect. My sister is a heavy sleeper, the room is pitch dark, and I know how my husband likes to slither in and spoon up. I have no idea why the stars didn't align last night and allow this to happen, but in retrospect? It's probably better this way. I mean, I'm pretty sure that my sister would have screamed bloody murder and died from a heart attack, but not before punching my husband in the face, then I would be upstairs hearing the screams going on downstairs, and I would automatically assume that my worst nightmare is coming true and the serial murderer has arrived and I too would have died of a heart attack. 

However I still think it would have been worth it. 

I have often wondered, what is it with husbands? What is their main malfunction, anyway? I mean, trying to get mine to stop at Starbucks to get me a coffee is harder than physics, and that's even when I'm in the car with him. If I call from home and ask him to bring me one? Forget about it. (I wonder if he forgets occasionally who his sex partner is...) 

Anyway, one of the hardest things to get my husband to do is take my damn picture. You'd think I asked him to fold the laundry or something but no, just please take my picture so I can, you know, put it on my blog. 

Sometimes he complies. Most of the time he doesn't. But when he does?

Well, let me just show you what results...

"hey hubs...will you take a picture of me and my friend?"

"hey hubs, can you get a picture of me overlooking the caribbean ocean at night?"

"hey hubs, could you maybe not take a picture of me in my bath towel?"

"hey hubs, will you take a cute picture of me with my margarita?"

"lemme see. that was horrible! Can you please try again?"

"hey hubs, can you please take some pictures of me out on the dance floor? You know, those candid pics I love so much."



no.



no.



no.

"hey hubs, can you take a picture of my friend and I since we are in Vegas and I want cute pics from the trip?"

"can you please try to get my face in the next one?"

"For crying out loud! Get my face in the picture this time!"

"hey hubs, since this is our last night and I'm dressed all sorts of fancy, can you take my picture?"

he was trying to get a shot from underneath my dress

"For the love! What do I have to do to get you to take a good picture? Can you at least aim the camera in my general direction?"

That's it. No sex for you. 

Oh. And when he actually tries and gets a semi-decent shot?

IT'S ALWAYS BLURRY!!

And then there's the self portraits. Of him and I.

Even then, I can't get a straight face.




But the best part?

The best part is the pictures he takes himself. Totally unprovoked, unprompted.

When he takes it upon himself to photograph me without my asking.

Like the time I went in for surgery...



or the time I fell asleep in the car...



or yeah, that time...

What an ass.

Him, not mine.