Celebrate the day of our birth

My parents do a joint birthday with us now that we live in the same city. It's usually the weekend that falls between our March birthdays (Cydney's is the 4th, mine is the 11th), take us to dinner and bring us some presents. This year, Corey and Justin got to come, and Dad invited his friend Fred to join us for dinner at Juban's.

Birthday girls!

With Fred, who was so happy to be with us for our birthday. We haven't seen him in years and years.

Eternal youth

Newlyweds!!

That cutie boyfriend of that purdy girl

Many candles on our red velvet cake

Do we all have the same smile?

The party of seven, wait, SIX because Fred took off for the bathroom and never came back!

Have you ever been shot out of a cannon?

I know we owe two weeks of posts on this blog, but I just have to quit doing anything in order to share the tale of the Half Week of Calamity Jane.

Monday and Tuesday of this week I have been preparing for a major event we had with the Department of the Interior today. Both days I was ONLY doing preparations for the event, and a haze had settled over my ability to think about personal hygiene, email or phone calls. I usually kick my shoes off under my desk when I'm seated there for long periods of time, which I had done on this particular day.

So there I am, at my desk, working on spreadsheets and invitations with my shoes kicked off and I am given immediate instructions to deliver other instructions to a girl who worked on the other side of our office. Up I get and off I go to deliver the assignment, so important was it that my supervisor was waiting on the other end of the phone for me to come back and say it was done.

It was not until I had crossed out of the lobby, through the elevator bay, into cubicle city and out again that I realized I had NO. F***KING. SHOES. ON. Not a sock, not a stocking, not a sole. And who should be standing in the elevator bay as I am running through it, looking at me like one of my feet was falling apart before her eyes, while I'm running, waving my arms and saying "I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"--my Chief of Staff.

Today was the Main Event, in New Orleans. Now, the last time I had worn my black pencil skirt, some of the hem came undone at work, so I stapled the hem and colored the staples with a Sharpie as a quick fix. And then, as I am wont to do, I forgot all about that shit, and put that pencil skirt on this morning. When I got to New Orleans, not only did I remember that the bitch was stapled on, but realized that the REST of the hem had been liberated also. So a coworker came from the New Orleans office, armed with a stapler and a Sharpie, and hemmed the rest of my skirt. The sad part is that the hem STILL won't be fixed the next time I put it on and leave the house in it.

Finally, you may recall that I made some serious fun of Corey's ass stepping on his own toe and breaking it. I myself have personally broken my own two baby toes so many times they don't face forward--it's cuter than it sounds. It wasn't until I got home after 10 hours in pointed-toe shoes that the pinky toe I had slammed on the closet door at 6 AM started throbbing. Why? Because it's all swollen and purple and BROKEN.

I need a mental health day.

My Lenten Un-feast

I am a Catholic, but I do not go to church. I have no tolerance for the establishment, but I think the religion is quite beautiful. I believe in evolution, that Mary Magdelene was the wife of Jesus, that homosexuals and priests should be allowed to marry, and I believe my Catholic faith leaves room for all of that.

I have not practiced Lenten penance for several years. I’m feeling very blessed, and a little humble about it, so I decided this year I would do what I’ve done in years before and give up sugar for Lent. This means a hiatus from two of my very most favorite things—cold Coke and icing. As a child who had a birthday during Lent, and due fortune paying a mean-ass trick on us by sending forth Girl Scout cookies during Lent, I have those two caveats—I give up sugar, with the exception of birthday cake and Girl Scout cookies. Those of you will birthdays before or after the 40 days of Lent who mock this condition can kiss my ass, because no one knows this trouble I’ve seen.

Oh, my fine Irish grandmother told her children that Sunday was not a day of Lent, so whatever you give up for Lent, you could technically have on Sundays. It was a mistake for my parents to allow this, because I can ingest an entire week’s worth of sugar in one day if absolutely necessary.

The Coke thing is really hard, because I need caffeine when I don’t get enough sleep, and I just love it with my whole heart. I don’t drink coffee or tea or take speed, so on this sleepy day, I am going au naturale. I can attest to the fact that if you are a person who drinks approximately one Coke per day, once you get past the withdrawals (and mine are debilitating) and get the toxins out of your system, your energy levels and general wellbeing dramatically improve.

I will swear until my dying day that my energy levels and general wellbeing do not improve in the slightest when my sadistic self withholds Little Debbies and cheesecake from my hungry self, but THIS is the penance I offer to tiny little baby Jesus.

And because this is a team event, Corey the Mega-Husband is on this self-sacrificing journey with me. He claims to not completely understand the rules of giving up caffeine and sugar, because yesterday he had tea and Day Two he had a mocha chocolata coffee or some shit like that. I think he's just a crafty Army dude who's exploring all the loopholes. Boy, was he crestfallen when he slid over next to Landen on Saturday night to partake in his tray of sopapillas, only to have me shoot him down and banish him to the other side of the booth.

I sure do love him for his effort.

A Very Merry Birthday to Landen

On Thursday, the Landenator turned six years old. I searched the Greater Baton Rouge area to find a bakery that would/could make me a cake with Batman fighting the Joker on it, which I did but at 6 AM, Landen didn't give two shits about that birthday cake. It was cooler that afternoon.
After school we opened presents, and Jake is one of those lucky little suckers who gets presents on his brother's birthday, on account of he's too young NOT to get something when his brother does. Landen got the LEGO Batman video game, Batman and Joker action figures, a Batman playset, the Batmobile with the Batcycle and a pirate ship. Jake got a Roman coliseum playset.
Friday night was our Marriott slumber party. They put us on the 20th floor, so the boys could see the entire South side of the city
and after we ordered pizza, we took them down to the hot tub. I didn't get in the hot tub, I just sat on the side with my feet in the water, so I did not have an appreciation for the depth of the thing.
I asked Landen whether he thought he could touch the bottom and he stepped off the step and went WAY under. I forgot he can't swim, which will be remedied this summer when I put both of their asses in swim lessons at the Y. Anyway, I was expecting him to gain control any minute, but he cam up and went right back down again. It was at Corey's urging that I was reminded to grab him, which I did, and after 90 seconds of screaming, we got him calmed down and he resumed hot tub play on the steps. For the rest of the night, he kept hugging and kissing me and thanking me for saving his life, but really, I was the one who endangered it, I guess, but I appreciated his gratitude.

Of an equal amount of fun was Dad collecting the towels from the pool chairs and tying them on their heads, which made them pirates/ninjas/Hajis.
They tired themselves out at the hot tub--in and around it and we went upstairs and watched American Gladiators until they fell asleep. Then Corey and I watched that Mickey Rourke movie The Wrestler, which is not at all uplifting, but the performances are good, if you can get past Mickey Rourke's ate-up face enough to appreciate the acting.

So much fun was had at the Marriott slumber party that Jake has selected the Embassy Suites as the site of his birthday celebration in May.

Cousins: A Love Story in Pictures

While the rest of the state of Louisiana was in New Orleans on their Mardi Gras day off, we took Dixie while Cydney was out of town, so that the boys could meet her. Jake is exceptional with animals, which is surprising since his own dog at his mom's bit the beejesus out of him and bruised both his legs. He's very calm and careful with Dixie. Landen wants to move her and hold her and constantly engage her, and we spent a considerable amount of time saying "Landen, stop. Leave her be."

Jake is really into reciting his family tree right now: Lily is his sister, Dixie is his stepmother's sister's dog, so that makes her his cousin and Cydney his aunt. I told them to smell how sweet she smelled, and Landen sniffed her and said "Oh, so good. She smells like Sitney's face."

The three of them played in the boys roomduring which Dixie quickly established ownership of all the TinkertoysAnd they watched Dad play some Xbox.

and then we took all of them to the elementary school playground next door. I have a son who cannot abide by fair play (Landen cheats at everything) and a niece who has no intention of sharing, as shown here with the stick her parrain wants for himself.

And don't think for a second Jake and Landen got to play with their Nerf swords in peace

before Dixie won out and claimed one for herself.

At the conclusion of this day, a nap was in order.

An update on her relationship with her first cousin Lily: this is how she looks at Lily when she walks by

and Lily spent the majority of the afternoon like this.

Fun boy pictures, not related to the puppy--Landen climbed one of those chain link walls that go behind the batter on a baseball field, with Corey spotting him at the bottom, until he got to the top once and got his t-shirt caught. Despite screaming bloody murder, he was able to get untangled and safely into Dad's arms.

And Corey played the troll who wasn't letting Jake cross the bridge

Out of the mouths of babes

One of my favorite things about having kids is the crazy shit they say. I love when people fall down, and I love when people say craziness. Even at 5 and 7, Jake and Landen say some of the funniest things. I'm inspired to write this because today, my office mate brought her son to work (Lundi Gras, skeleton crew) and he's three, nearing four. A new thing he picked up is apparently saying "are you sure?" when you tell him something. So she instructs him to tell me what they say they don't like at their house, and he tells me that "we don't play games and we don't have shenanigans at bed time." I always get excited on our weeks because I know Jake is going to say some genius shit and Landen is going to say some hilariously evil shit (one weekend it was, in fact, shit.)

This week is our week, and it's a big one. Wednesday night we have church with the whole family for Ash Wednesday at Jake and Landen's school. Thursday morning is Landen's sixth birthday, so we're waking him up with a cake and a banner and a button that says he's the birthday boy. I asked Landen what he wanted to do for his birthday this year, and he said he just wanted to stay at the top of the Marriott. (Where our apartment is, the terrain and the buildings are really flat, except for the Marriott, which sits right new to the interstate and is about 15 stories high. Jake and Landen are fascinated with it--it's one of their landmarks.)

So for Friday night, I've booked a room for the highest floor that has the regular rooms with the regular rates (a six-year-old doesn't need a penthouse birthday) and we're going to open his presents and eat more of his cake and get room service for $5 french fries and $3 glasses of milk and watch a $12 PPV movie and look out the window a whole lot.

And this weekend we get one day with Dixie, so Mommy will have to administer some of her prescribed anti-anxiety medication to her doodlebug Lily, who will be invaded by the boys and the dog at the same time.

It's goin' down, now

Today was The Day. The introduction of Dixie the Dog and Lily the Kitty as Cousins. (Remember the other part of the day involved me getting a new sofa, but the bitches at Haverty's damaged it, so they've sent off for another one.)

Lily did much better than I thought she was going to. When we first got back with Dixie and they were feeling each other out, Dixie had the gumption to walk up to an apprehensive Lily and kiss her smack on the face, and Lily lept over her and hissed, but that was the only altercation from Part A of the afternoon. It looked like this:

Lily would then perch on a piece of furniture where she could see Dixie, looking at her, wondering "What is that? What does it do?" That looked like this:

Later in the afternoon, Lily started doing shit like this:
which led to the inevitable strike and yelping of puppy. No blood was shed and she wasn't traumatized. She must've gotten too close, and Lily rared back and popped at her--the animal version of "step the f*** back Bob Jr."

After this, Lily perched in an observation post for the remainder of the afternoon, and Dixie doing her tiny puppy stuff, which looked like this:

The only accident she had was when she took a dump on Aunt Weezie's floor, but Jazzy used to shit all over that house, so no damage was done. We took her outside to tinkle every hour and TWICE when we were playing in the living room, she would waltz over to her piddle pad and relieve herself. And the big stupid human type things would squeal that she was such a good puppy and give her a treat, which I'm sure pissed Lily off because she's been teeteeing and poopooing where she's supposed to for YEARS and all she got was an afternoon with this dumb dog:

I know, right? Ingrate.