Daisies & Diapers

Well hello. Yesterday I sent this little box o' goodies to the Big Guy at work.  Twelve pineapple daisies dipped in chocolate.  The card read: Dada enjoy your daisies because we bought them with your credit card. Love - M, N & Brody.

It wasn't a kind gesture or a nice little treat to reward him for working so hard. Nope.  I'm not that sweet of a wife.  What I do know is that I will remind him about this box of daisies when he realizes that I flushed a dookie diaper down the toilet. Don't worry, I picked up all my TB flats off the floor and have my pants rolled in anticipation of the flood.  I know.  You were concerned. 

I'm off.  I need to fetch M from my bedroom where she is sitting on the bed eating a DiGiorno pizza watching Calliou. Oh, the horror. Child watching T.V., eating frozen pizza in the middle of the day.  At least she is sitting on the Big Guy's side of the bed.  I've got that going for me. xox

fun police

O hi.  It's been a month.  Not my fault. Yup, for once in 34 years it's not my fault. Place the blame on a 6'3 bald guy I like to call the fun police...

Mid August the Big Guy asked me if I would stop blogging about our family hence the reason I've been MIA.  Okay, I get it.  He's a private person and doesn't want his cluster of a life displayed for all to read. Write about anything just not our family he says. Oh, sure, because my life is so exciting and I have so many other things to write about.  Not that my family life is all that enthralling either but for some reason ya'll read this garbage.  I've got a sneaking suspicion you read because my life makes you feel better about your own. Ouch.

I injected myself in the stomach with cancer causing fertility meds to get pregnant with these kids and sat in a hospital bed for 40 days to stay pregnant with one of them.   I do believe I've earned the right to share some pieces of us using this blog as my outlet.  The good, bad, happy, sad and quite truthfully the downright hilarious. He haw.

Here is why I have two issues with this request.  1)  has the FP not seen my FB page?  I mean c'mon.  There isn't much I don't share. 2)  I'm writing a book.  I've been writing a book (like one word a month) for the last 3.5 years. The title of the book includes the word vagina. You don't get much more personal than that.  So for those reasons I should blog.  I need to blog.  Scratch that.  I need to write.  There is something incredibly cathartic about sharing my thoughts, feelings and raw emotions. Barf.

So where shall I go from here? I can blog about Tory, Kate and David but truly, I think you get the point.  I. WORSHIP. THEM. Taking about the stuff I'm currently coveting is fun and writing about all the things I want and cannot afford is great, don't get me wrong, but it perpetuates the vicious addiction I have to spending the Big Guy's hard-earned money. 

Perhaps I just need to buckle down and get serious about writing that book.  After all, I work 3 days a week and have a husband that works 90 hours a week - I've got a ton of spare time to sit, sip some tea and type my days away. {insert sarcastic grin here} xox