I'm a Mess

I am fairly certain I could not be a full-time stay at home mom.  Or I should say that I totally could be a stay at home mom, but not for long because my husband might leave because he would tire of me never getting out of pajama pants and t-shirts, my hair stuffed up into a ponytail, no make-up and unplucked eyebrows. Not a pretty picture.  The good news is that I do cook more than is typical, but the house doesn't seem any neater, so there's that.

I keep waiting to find my own personal style.  To step out in coordinated work-out clothing (that's what other stay-at-home-moms seem to do) or to look like I'm wearing an outfit.  Basically, I want to channel the flair of my blogger crush, Brooke.  She's fancy.  And stylish.  And it looks effortless.  Maybe someday?

We are Party Animals (Or Celebrating Five Years)

Last weekend, we had officially been married five years.  Five long, but really very fast, years.  It's complicated.  So last night, Chris and I trotted off for a mini-vacation in our next-door city.  We got a fab deal on a B&B and we were kind of like rockstars.  You know, if rockstars just liked to eat at delicious places and were back in their rooms by 8:30 hanging out, having wine on a balcony and reading on the Kindle.  Everyone celebrates at their own rate, so there.  Today we finished up a ride on the McKinney trolley cars--ours was made in 1913, a trip to an uber-chichi mall and forever drive to pick up our children, who I only called to talk/check-on approximately six times in 24 hours.   It was pretty glorious, I can't lie.

From top left:  Wild About Harry's frozen custard amazingness, Chris playing Elvis at the toy store, dinner at Si Tapas, our B&B and the amazing sky as storms blew in.

From top left:  Dallas skyline, a fun building, inside the trolley car x2, my feet chillaxin' on the trolley, boys in the Gayborhood, Uptown Station stop, Chris' ring on the trolley, Gloria's! and vintage ad located around the top of the trolley.

Adventures in Poop, Vol. III

Today's adventure is brought to you by the concept of wiping.  Yes, wiping someone's arse, other than your own.  It's not my favorite job, but after 3 years of day in-day out wiping, I'm kind of used to it.  Enter in the Standing Wipe.  The Standing Wipe makes things challenging, but it can  be done.

After 3 years of the wiping, you would think the arse of the person being wiped would understand the concept. The answer to that assumption is no, a resounding NO.  How did we learn this, you may ask?  As my husband was on poop-patrol, it was by accident that I found out this horrific lesson.  It was as I heard,

No, Elliott!  We don't wipe our face after we've wiped our hineys.  

Yep.  You got it.  Post-hiney wipe on.the.face.

Boys are Gross.

Sometimes My Husband Surprises Me

Last night we decided to order in so that we could watch the World Series game. . . that was postponed.   Being that we didn't have anything thawed and we received a coupon for Mooyah Burgers, off we went for a little family dinner.  Driving down our street, this happened:

Chris:  Look, it's the Steak People behind us.
Me:  The Steak People?
Chris:  You know, the people who knock on the door saying they have just a few steaks left and would we like to buy some?
Me:  (quizzical look)
Chris:  Oh that's right, you always make me answer the door.
Me:  (distracted) Mmmhmm.
Chris:  I always just tell them we're vegan.  They don't have anything to say to that.

Good thing the Steak People didn't see the meat lovers pizza box in the trash bin.

Redeeming Myself. . .

I need to redeem myself a bit. Turns out that when you link a blog post on Facebook your husband who never reads your blog will then read the post. Then your husband might feel you've said that he's inept. Le sigh. I'm not saying this happened at my house, per se, but just in case. . . Let me list some things that are obvious about my husband:

1. My husband cooks. A lot. And it's even good stuff.

2. If I wake him up, he willingly changes a diaper and rocks the baby girl.

3. On mornings we are both home, he always lets me sleep. Not sure if this is self-preservation or just kindness.

4. He makes me cocktails. Anytime I ask.

5. When I ask, "Honey, would you . . .?" The answer is almost always yes, even if a sigh accompanies it.

6. I'm controlling. He still loves me.

7. I'm bossy. He still loves me.

8. I'm lazy. He still loves me.

9. Two words: grocery shopping.

10. No complaints about girl's night. I need way more away-time than he does, but he gets it and let's me do my thing. He's also never complained about the passel of girlfriends that came with our marriage. He even genuinely likes them an appreciates their relationships with me and how they love our children.

11. He always tells me I'm pretty, even when it's clearly a lie.

12. He once told me my gray hair looked like "blond highlights" to him. He was serious. . . at least I think so.

13. Did I mention I'm bossy and controlling? Yeah, those are pretty big things.

14. He's been known to bring me flowers 'just because.'

15. He's a loving, hands-on, thoughtful, consistent father to our chitlins.