Tattt ttattt ttattt oooooooo!

This tattoo thing is driving me crazy. I lay awake at night and can't get to sleep because I am thinking about it and then when I wake up in the morning it's right there, like it's already tattooed on my brain:YOU MUST THINK ABOUT THIS ALL DAY LONG. AND ALL NIGHT LONG. It's not if I want to get one, it's what I want. I think I have it pinpointed down pretty well so I am relaxing a little, as long as I am on the same page with the artist. I mean, what if I say I want this, and he draws that? PERMANENTLY on my body?
I mean, I guess they ask you first if it's OK before they pull out the needles. Anyway, I think I have thought about this more than I thought about getting married, or having children for that matter.
But now that I have pretty good picture of what and where I want it (I'm kinda keeping it a surprise for the sha-bing! effect of pictures later, can you tell?) I am just so excited. Like instead of Friday I might just go today, cause that's how I roll.
**a little bit later**
So Thursday is the big day. At twelve thirty. So you can all say a prayer for me that I can communicate well what I want and that I won't cry. I am going all by myself, because even though I never thought in a million years I would be doing something this colossal by my lonesome, there life goes getting in the way of things, full of kids and jobs. And you don't want to take kids into these places.
On that note, searching for cool tattoos on the Internet was the most disgusting thing I have ever done. Not to mention the posters of tata's hung in every corner these joints. It's like, I just want a pretty tattoo. Isn't there any place that does pretty tattoos ONLY? It makes me kinda want to open a little tattoo parlor, super clean and cute like a salon. With no tata's anywhere but under shirts, where they should be.
So on that note, goodnight, and here's to hoping I can get some sleep without dreaming about the dumb tattoo.

Swim Lessons!

Now those are some bright eyes!

We took the boys for swim lessons on Saturday. Joey said it was my turn to get in the pool because he has allergies. Ended up being a lot of fun-Noah loved it. It was like the bathtub, only a hundred percent better.

I think my new face regime is working. Just look how dewy I look in this picture. (Or am I just wet?) Oh, and I found the trick to bright eyes: Mascara. Like the whole tube of it. (Why doesn't anyone just tell me these things?) Problem solved--for now.

More bright eyes, the natural, totally-stoked-about-the-pool kind.

Whacked, but Having a Good Day Anyway.

I have a couple of minutes, all the boys are sleeping, so thought I better sit my bootie down and write, even though I don't have a lot of inspiration right now. Except this:

I am getting a tattoo. And I like rap.

Plus, a couple of days ago I bought some new nail polish. Dark nail polish--in blue, slate, and purple. So whatever that all means, I think I am going through my twenty-seven year old crisis. Holy heck what will I be doing at forty????

Anyway, I also got my hair cut today, so I feel like a whole new woman. It makes me want to wear liquid eyeliner.

My marriage, for the first time in like three years, feels strong and secure. This makes me want to take a deep breath and let it out, slow. And then go throw myself on my husband.

However, with the marriage on the upswing, I have had to deal with a lot of my own issues. Now my relationship with myself is all whacked, if that makes any sense. I am sure for all you other crazy women out there this all makes perfect sense. Men might have a harder time relating: my husband sees girl blogs sometimes and is like, "whhhaaaat????" when I totally get it. We. are. Whacked. But life is good anyway. Really good.

I look forward to going out with Joey, something we have been doing a lot of now that he has weekends off. It's like a whole new relationship, like I am dating a new man, and man is he sexxxy hot. So that's been fun.

My boys are growing up, we are almost out of the diaper bag stage, which is good because most of the time I completely forget it anyway. It's funny, when I had Ethan The Diaper Bag was such a big deal. It had to be stylish and absolutely huge, and it went EVERYWHERE with me. And I actually liked carrying it around. Like a I AM A MOMMY symbol. Maybe it's a second child thing or maybe I am just over having babies, but I hate the diaper bag.

Noah is walking around barely, his legs like Frankenstein. He is soooooo cute right now you just want to squeal when you see him. His cheeks, his buns, his smile and eyes! He's right before the stage where they scream if you take anything away from them, so he is still just perfect. He doesn't say mama regularly, but I don't hold it against him too much. He does say DADA and DA for dog. Maybe I'll be next. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
I found a new thrift store! Well, it actually isn't new, it's been around, I just hadn't ever gone and it is AWESOME. I want to go back so. bad. but am exercising some serious self control and staying away for at least four weeks.

And that's about it.

I can't believe they are ALL still sleeping!

Mind = Mountain.

The quietness of the morning is almost disconcerting, the boys being at mom's. But more than disconcerting it is restful and delicious.
Joey is sleeping in, taking advantage of one day in the middle of a lot of long long days.
The ride up to Bear Valley for the Tough Mudder was long and beautiful. The trees growing right out the side of the road, the rock mountains jetting up to the blue sky. It seemed like forever that we wound up the mountain, curving and curving and curving. If I was a carsick person I definitely would have puked.
We followed a river for a good part of it, the water bubbling over rocks, foamy and dark, like beer. Despite the chilly temperature (44 degrees!) there were people camping and fishing all along the side of the river. I watched the smoke from their fires curl up and disappear in the sky.
And as we curled up that mountain, not saying much, I tried to keep my mind in check. My thoughts felt just like the road: turn after turn after turn; hill after hill after hill; sometimes the turns would be so sharp, you wouldn't know what was on the other side. And that's exactly how my mind felt: never-ending, unpredictable, edgy. Like if I wasn't keeping my thoughts in complete control they might just roll right off the side of the mountain, into crazyland.
When Joey did finally start talking about something, I thought, Thank God! But even in the midst of conversation I felt my thoughts drifting, curving, roaming to some unknown place.
Scares the freak'en pants offa me.
So then we were there and there were a ton of San Fransisco hippies and cops and firemen and military people, because these are the types of people who do this stuff. I quickly lost Joey in registration and thought OK, that was that. Now to wait for it to be over.
But, thank the good Lord, another wife showed up and we walked around the mountain for three hours, meeting the boys at three of the 19 events to cheer them on and give them a drink of beer.
It looked like a lot of fun to me, and I have decided I want to do it, as long as I can convince some friends, or at least one, to do it with me. (Anybody game?)
PS We only saw one lady fall into the fire.
(Anybody still game?)
I wore pants and a long sleeve shirt and then brought a down coat, gloves and a scarf thinking I was going to freeze my bootie off, but instead found myself sticking my hands up my shirt in an effort to get some airflow and looking out for any random scissors because I wanted to cut my sleeves off (of a brand new shirt, no less). I didn't bring the sunscreen because I pictured my face being wrapped up in my scarf with the wind chill ten below, so consequentially this morning my nose is fried and I might as well be Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, dang it.
After it was all over Joey and I talked on the windy way down, about my crazy mind, and just saying things out loud seemed to put the little effers in their place. My husband is a fabulous, extremely steady friend. It seemed like it took us three hours to get up that mountain, and about five minutes to come down, and that's what a good conversation will do.
Today we will go to church, childless. And although getting ready to go without any whining, screaming or disobeying will be wonderful, I think I am starting to miss them and am looking forward to picking them up. I can't wait to see their smiles full of white, tiny teeth and to feel their soft doughy cheeks, their giggles and hugs getting my mind off that damn mountain.

Regular Life, Including the Ferris Wheel.

So the other thing I can't get out of my head lately is that I am going on twenty eight years old, and I should have done more by this point. Like owned my own business or something. Or at least have written a book. Because getting married before I could legally drink, finishing my BA, owning a home complete with two dogs (let me re-phrase that: PAYING-up the woohooaloo, mind you-for a home, complete with two dogs), and working random jobs every couple of years to work with our family schedule hasn't been enough.
I mean, I should be famous by this point, right? Twenty seven seems really significant for some reason. I think about being old all of the time. Passing up my prime. Losing all creative inspiration and energy and slipping into the blah blah boring stage of life. Sometimes I get a happy thought and think maybe in my thirties I will be over this and not care about being old and boring...I will just have accepted it.
Which when written down, doesn't seem so happy.
Anyway.
Today is going to be a great day, in my regular, non-famous, non-CEO life: I have the morning off, Joey is coming home at one, and we are going to Scheels to ride the ferris wheel.
Then Joey and I have the evening together (va va voom!) and tomorrow we drop the kids off at Nawnie's so we can drive three hours or so into Northern California so Joey can run in the Tough Mudder race.
I considered it, until I realized it is eight miles (EIGHT MILES PEOPLE) of mud and obstacle course like terrain. And then I decided I would rather dress cute and watch from the side lines, wearing my sunglasses and sipping on a dark brew.
Then Sunday is church (I love church!). Plus the Giants are playing, and I actually am sincerely getting into it. I told Joey I would be even more into it if I had some cute girl Giants T-shirts and maybe a hat.
Come to think of it, we are going to Scheels today...
So for now, I will try to be nice to myself and enjoy today for what it is. I will never have it back, and probably, when I am published and famous I will look back and say, Man, those were the days, when the boys were all cheeks and precious and all we did was shop and ride the ferris wheel.

I am a Young Mother (God help me!).

Name that movie...it's only the best movie of ALL. TIME.

MMMMMM!

I feel old today. The idea of being a young mother, when I was, well, young, was so appealing. For what reason I can't even remember. Because you stay young for about two days before the sleep deprivation kicks in and it's basically over at that point. You might as well be fifty two.
I am so desperate this morning. I'm ready to hit Macy's make-up counters and spend as much as five hundred dollars on firming face creams and anything else that promises me my face will not ever have a wrinkle or spot, that I will look eighteen forever and ever and ever.
On Facebook I look at pictures of childless friends, their dewy faces and bright eyes, and want to scream. And poke holes in their condoms.
Anyway, on a more domestic-June Cleaver-christian note, I am making apple pie with Ethan today. Our first apple pie, ever. It's in the oven now, just starting to fill my kitchen with the smell of cinnamon, and butter. It's a perfect day for apple pie: cloudy and cold. Well, it would have been perfect except Ethan decided to put a chunk (about the size of a baseball, more or less) of brown sugar in his mouth, right after I told him not to, so he won't be eating any apple pie. He looked like a guilty chipmunk caught in headlights who had just filled his cheeks with nuts for winter.
I am ready for the weekend with my husband. He works long days, and I pretty much think I am the shit for being such a great wife about it. Sixteen hour graveyard shifts? Don't even try to beat it. Unless, of course, your husband is in the military, in which case I will shut up now.
Daelynn has been in town. We went up to Graeagle, that magical place, and hung out with Chuy and his brothers. I LOVE it when I get to see them. They are so fun, they still have those bright eyes (come to think of it, they don't have kids), I love their accents, and their food (carne asada, pico de gallo, salsa) is as good as beer. Then on Tuesday Daelynn came in to town and we had our friends over, which between the four of us, there were (almost) EIGHT kids.
Eight beautiful, bobble head, big-eyed kids. They all look like us in one way or another. If it weren't perfectly natural and they way things are supposed to be, it really would be freaky. Little me's running around everywhere.
And I was reminded that friends are life, air, sunshine. Marriage is good, but hard. Kids, well, you know what I think about them today. But friends, friends are red wine after a long day. Friends are what keep me sane, keep life fun, remind me I am not alone, because, well, we all are young mommies, getting old together.

The Lears.

So that's me, holding hands with Ethan, whose in the middle, holding hands with Daddy. The little guy is Noah, obviously. We are pretty cute. Oh, and I'd like to point out how very UN-monster like I look in this potrait. In fact, I look quite friendly, really.