Reasons Why

Since I have admitted my obsession for all things Christmas, I felt it only appropriate that I expand and explain on why I’m so crazy about this season. First and foremost Christmas signifies the birth of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. What better reason for celebration? Yes, I get caught up in gift giving and decorating and crafting and all of the commercialism involved with Christmas; but it’s all because of the celebration of Jesus’ birth. Secondly – my Grandmother instilled in me a deep love for this special holiday from very early in my life. My childhood memories are few and far between – but I will never forget my Grandmother’s house at Christmastime. I remember the big red bow that adorned her light post in the front yard, I remember the elaborate Nativity Scene that rested on the entry-hall table, I remember how every single room was transformed into a Christmas Wonderland and what joy each and every decoration brought to our entire family. I distinctly remember the *plays* that Grandmother made me and all of my cousins perform every year. We would re-enact the Nativity Story, and fight about it the whole time. The oldest girl always got to be Mary, the oldest boy would be Joseph, and Tonya – the youngest- had to be Baby Jesus EVERY year. I think she was 10 before Grandmother finally conceded that she was too big to fit in the manger, and she was replaced by a flashlight. (I realize that's a little odd... okay - a LOT odd) I was the nerd who LOVED doing these productions each year. I was always irritated that I had to be a shepherd or a wise man, but I was still so very serious about it all. WHAT. A. DORK.
I also remember the close family time that always came at Christmas. Christmas Eve at Grandmother’s house was full of Aunts and Uncles, Cousins running amuck (me trying to boss them all around – none of them listening to me). The food was always over the top, out of this world good… My grandfather, Dandy would ALWAYS manage to find an airplane in they sky and round all of the grandkids up and show us how “Santa and Rudolph were just above us in the sky.” It was magical.
Honestly, I could go on and on with amazing Christmas memories– but the point is that this season is magic to me. It’s about love and caring and family. It’s about peace and the spirit of giving – and most of all it’s about celebrating the miracle that was Jesus’ birth. And I’m just CRAZY about it!!!

Items of concern

I am hosting Thanksgiving in exactly 1 day and a half.... There are a few problems with this situation:

1. There are remnants of biter bisquits crusted to every nook and cranny of this house.
2. There is a 3 foot pile of laundry leading from the garage -through the kitchen -down the hall and into my bedroom. (hopefully neither child is buried under there... I haven't heard either of them waling for a while...)
3. We got the brilliant idea to clean out our kitchen cabinets this weekend forgetting that we are hosting this shindig for 20 people - and will no doubt have leftovers. I hope that we can construct 45 bowls out of 10 feet of aluminum foil or there will be enough waste to feed a small country.
4. We only have one working toilet currently... this fact plus the HUGE meal and the obligatory three hour visit after said meal equals disaster of incalculable proportions.

And..
5. I discovered that Ashlyn discarded a sippy cup of chocolate milk sometime ago under her bed - the hard way. I'm not sure how much $ we'll be out for fumigating.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Kenny G Holiday Collection and hot cocoa... MMMmmmMMM. And, to bring a little Holdiday Cheer to the blog: a picture of our tree last year right before Ashlyn woke up to see what Santa brought...

Spray Paint… it’s the new Raid.

I hate spiders, bees, wasps – any and all insects/arachnids that have the ability to cause physical pain/death to humans. I hate them. Like, I want every bee, wasp and spider to die a horrible, grueling, tragic death; preferably at my hand. I’ve even manifested a pretty full-proof murder weapon for said pests; Spray paint. Pink spray paint, to be exact. It all started with the discovery of a large spider/web in the entry way to our house. I knew I had to kill this beast but I wasn’t sure how. I couldn’t swing a broom at it to knock the web down – because he would surely crawl straight up the broom handle and promptly bite my hand/arm/eyeball. I really couldn’t think of any method that would ensure the creature didn’t fall onto/around/near me…except for spray paint. So I rummage through the garage and locate my spray paint stash (you know – for getting high) (totally kidding) and grab the black can with evil gratification. But then I pause, and my mind works up an even more malicious ploy – I will spray paint this creature PINK. Because then –as he realizes that he will soon die from the fatal showering of sticky paint, he will also be humiliated knowing that he will parish in a coat of pink. BRILLIANT. So I walk cautiously to the web and carefully take the lid off of the paint – all the while keeping both eyes locked on my victim. I raise the can, aim carefully and engulf the spider with rosy-hued death liquid. It was glorious. All eight legs wriggled and writhed… he eventually fell – slowly – straight to the ground and, realizing he was stuck to himself – gave up the fight. VICTORY WAS MINE!! Much in the same fashion, I murdered a wasp that was threatening to enter my house via the garage last night. There is a large pink circle of paint on the ground – and in the middle is the sticky would-be intruder. I win again.

A little of this...a little of that

Apparently, I cannot differentiate between “hanging by a thread” and “a little loose” (when it comes to teeth, that is.) We’ve been very blessed and very lucky that, so far, Ashlyn has never had any major injury. If you’ve ever spent more than 10 minutes with her you understand how surprising that fact is. She’s been a monkey since the day she was born. She literally came out with her arms and legs flailing and her eyes wide open – and she hasn’t slowed down since. She is constantly running, jumping, swinging, sliding, diving – anything physical. I don’t think she ever sits down for 2 seconds together. She really isn’t afraid of much of anything –so the fact that we haven’t had anything broken or mangled is pretty shocking.
So last night Ashlyn fell while getting out of the bathtub and hit her mouth on the side of it. She cried for all of 5 seconds I think – but I could see a little blood around her tooth. I went to wiggle it – and wiggle it did. I swear that it was about to fall completely off. I was immediately concerned about what this broken tooth would entail. I assumed it would have to be pulled and then she’d have to have some form of cosmetic dentistry since it’ll be awhile before permanent teeth come in. I was also upset because our family pictures are this Saturday and I didn’t know what the status of the tooth would be at that point. So I take her in to the Dr. this morning, and after looking at her teeth, he informs me that the tooth is “a little loose” but is still alive and will be fine. Wow. I know that I tend to exaggerate and overreact – but really? I think my daughter’s tooth is dangling when in reality it’s perfectly in tact and just slightly loose?
Also – tonight is the Christmas Crafting meeting at the McMillan house. Yes, an actual meeting (complete with notebooks) devoted to the planning of which crafts will be, well, crafted; what materials will be needed, and what day exactly each of the crafting events will take place. I told you people I was a little nuts about Christmas, and I wasn’t joking. I know it’s nights like tonight that Allen is glad he’s gone!! Giggling, giddy women with notebooks, crafting plans, apple cider, Christmas music and an abundance of glitter…. Sounds like Heaven to me!!!!

Intervention

I'm a big girl. I need not to be anymore. If/when you see me, kindly remove any and all unhealthy foods from my death grip. Hell, rid me of nutrition of all kinds. I have enough fat stores for the winter... and the spring. Maybe let me have a cracker next summer.

This One's for You, Cami

Friday night, Ms. Cami invited me to see her perform in the Cactus Theatre's latest production of "Smoke on the Mountain," and, as always, I was blown away by her talent. She commands the attention of her audience. The entire cast is extremely talented - with regular Lubbock stars such as Kenny Maines and Jane Prince-Jones, but I found myself forgetting anyone else was on stage. When I think back on each of Cami's numerous roles I realize that she's always been this way. She has the ability to take on her character entirely; so much so that I forget that I'm watching Cami. I will NEVER forget her performance in Honky Tonk Angels. I've never laughed so hard in all my life - she just owns what she does. I've been blessed to know Cami as well as the entire Caldwell family for many years and I love what they have done and continue to do with Lubbock's music and entertainment industry. There is an outrageous amount of talent in this town that would go unnoticed if it weren't for the efforts of these guys.
Also, Cami informed me that she reads this little blog from time to time, and instructed me to post a little more frequently.
I would love to say that I only post on this thing to get thoughts off of my chest, remember important events and keep distant friends and family in the loop - but who are we kidding, here? I wouldn't have claimed this space on the WORLD WIDE web had I not intended upon having blog readers; followers; stalkers, if you will. So the fact that Cami - someone I love and admire, but don't get to see or talk to nearly enough - stops by to read my ridiculous tales makes me very very happy. Furthermore - I found out that someone else very near and dear to my heart is keeping up with my jottings (love that word; jottings).... and that pretty much rocks my world...
So - I'm going to refocus and post on this thing more often. As always I will have to be a Mommy blogger from time to time and put a picture or two of the offspring up... also it's getting awfully close to Christmas and anyone who knows me knows that there are ALWAYS exciting tales to be told around this time of year. What with Christmas crafts gone terribly wrong to candy making fiascos - there is a lot to jot (again, love that word) about. For those who don't know me well (or who haven't been around me during a previous Christmas Season) I will warn you now; I'm absolutely CRAZY about Christmas... I've already broken out the Christmas tunes and have, once again, begun to beg Allen to "Let me put the Christmas decorations out already, PLEASE, because one month is simply not enough." This pleading will no doubt result in the same "compromise" as it always does... which means that until the day after Thanksgiving you won't see so much as red and green crayons inside the house, but by golly if you walk out into the garage there'll be a Christmas Wonderland in full effect. I can't help myself. I'm rambling - I've jumped from topic to topic.. lost my point (again) (shocking)... so I guess that means I'm done.

P.S. ROCK ON TIME CHANGE. I feel if I had one extra hour every day I would get, well, exactly 60 more minutes of crap done.

P.S.S Kenly's 2nd tooth in a week has cut through... she's grumpy...but teething tablets are hands down the best invention known to man. Next to the wheel, of course.

That is all...

(you hope)

It's out there somewhere - My point, that is.

I almost forgot my password for this gathering of randomness that I call a blog; due in part to the fact that I work at a bank that requires 2 seperate passwords for each individual system which must be changed every 4 minutes - leaving miniscule space in the *password remembrence* section of my brain. On that note - and in case you were wondering - it is apparently not acceptable practice to list these passwords along with their corresponding system(s) on a sticky note attached to your monitor. Something to do with security/privacy/sensitive information... hum drum.

It seems that delving into the depths of my internal thinking device to retrieve this password caused the loss of the point and reason behind this post. Ah well - a few pics of the kids will have to suffice:


Sisterly love...

I promise I'm not trying to raise a Britney Spears...it's just that my ginormous 2 year old is now wearing 4T clothing, and I'm having a hard time understanding that when I purchase the clothes. "She's only 2... 4T is a ridiculous size for a 2 year old." A few more inches and she'll be taller than Daddy...

This is from our late night playdate a few weeks ago... Kenly decided that 2 am was a great choice for alone time with Mommy...

"Mooooom - going to bed at 8:30 is, like, soooo lame."

-She really said that - then she grabbed her bottle and walked out the door mumbling something about hoping the keg was soy milk so she wouldn't have a hangover and digestion issues in the morning...

And one more of Princess Ashlyn. I want a tiara like this for myself.... in fact - Santa; if you're reading my blog (you know, during your breaks from toy making and all) can you PLLLLEEEAASE try and remember to leave me a plastic pink tiara under the tree??

Jessica, Allen and I went to see a movie on Saturday night - I think it was the first movie I've been to in the theater in 6 months. I was so jazzed, I hadn't eaten dinner in anticipation of the over-buttered popcorn, goobers, and gallon sized Dr. Pepper. (I'm a health nut, as you can tell) Now, I'm going to admit something about myself and my weird rules about going to the movies; and once again - I am very aware of how weird this is: I insist upon being seated, all greasy and/or chocolate-covered goodies in hand at least 10 minutes before the previews start. I know it's dumb - but I have to ground myself. I have to "soak" into the environment, if you will. (It's entirely possible that all that is really happening is that I need that much time to talk to whomever I'm with before the movie starts - 2 hours of silence from my mouth is a damn near impossible task.) Returning to Saturday night - we were late getting to the theater. We needed to stop for cash and on our way to get it my husband, who is WELL aware of my *10 minutes before the previews* rule informs me that he needs to stop at the store. After glancing at the clock and doing some quick (albeit inaccurate) math I informed him that "You have lost your head if you think I'm stopping at the store right now." However, realizing that Allen was in desperate need of his snuff fix, and being the AWESOME wife that I am, I agreed to drop him off in the street (where he could walk to the store)on my way to the ATM - and I would be back to get him once I got cash. And that's exactly how that went down.
Fast forward past the never-ending ticket line and concession stand line - and into the theater. I am on the verge of hives as we walk in to the already-playing previews. DAMMIT. I move past it, overcome - and almost thouroughly enjoy the movie experience. What kept me from completely enjoying it, you ask? It might have something to do with the couple next to us who had their 7 YEAR OLD daughter in this R- rated film that had explicit, loud, vulgar and without warning sex scenes. I'm talking full-on nudity, language -the whole shebang. I suppose the mom caught on to my utter disgust (may have had something to do with my blatent staring at her while mouth gaping open) and instructed her daughter to *Cover her eyes.* Yeah - because that always works. For starters, you remember what you did when you were watching a movie/TV show and your parents told you to cover your eyes. You put your hand- fingers slightly seperated - over those eyes to ensure you could see whatever it was they didn't want you to. Great plan. And furthermore (redundancy?) covering your eyes doesn't stop the language from seaping into your ears. Maybe the kid legitimately covered her eyes and didn't peak - but she sure got an earful of vulgarity and smut. Ugh.

It's late. I'll step down from the soapbox.

2 1/2 Months Later....

I am proud to announce that the McMillan family refrigerator is now in working order. I am not so proud that I had to remove somewhere between 100-137 wine bottles from the top of the appliance just for the repairman to move it away from the wall. Or maybe I am proud of that. Either way - you may now come visit us and have something cold to drink while you stay. I am just that awesome of a hostess.

That is all.

So much to blog about, so little time.

I’ve started approximately 673 blogs in the last two weeks – all with promising topics; the annual Bobo Halloween party, my visit to the Ob/Gyn that has left me with a plan to get implants, the pumpkin painting extravaganza (past and future), the fact that Kenly can sit up now, pictures of Ashlyn in her tiara, etc. I just never get around to finishing them, what with wine drinking and book reading and – oh yes – raising two kids taking priority. I will get around to each of the aforementioned events soon…. Until then I leave you with a quote I stole from Jessica’s blog today – a very touching story with an amazing thought to ponder and live by: “Don’t Quit Five Minutes Before the Miracle”

Pretty self-explanatory, eh??

Adventures at the Fair..

Ah, the fair. I am a huge fair person and always have been. I know, I know; it's unsafe, dirty, expensive etc -but I love me some greasy fair food, and I dunno - it's tradition! In fact, the year Allen and I got married we were on our honeymoon during fair week and the rest of the year we just felt off because we missed it.

Moving along... We took the girls (twice) and had a great time despite the blazing heat and an upset 5 month old!!

Ashlyn is SUCH a daredevil, and most of the kiddie rides just bore her. I think that is exactly what this face is: "Mom, seriously - this is just not fun."
Ashlyn and her Daddy - they were about to get on the "plane" - which actually seemed to amuse her!

Excuse the blurry picture - these little bugs were moving pretty fast...

We, of course, had to make a stop for "Nummy bears" and a Princess tiara.

Then it was off to the petting zoo - Ashlyn is still talking about petting the horse and holding the baby chicks. I have no clue what we're looking at here..

Totally Not Ready for This

Kenly's CRAWLING!!!!
She started "scooting" last Monday and was on her knees and goin' by Thursday. This is absolutely terrifying for me... it's one thing to "baby-proof" a house for your first kid; but to try and keep a house continually "baby-proofed" when you have a 2 year old is quite another.


**I'll get a picture of the crawling baby up soon... but for right now, a large glass of wine and a chapter in my new book are calling my name....

Friday Morning Epiphany (In letter form)

An open letter to myself:

Dear Kayla,

If your food-cooling/freezing device (aka fridge) has been out for a month and a half without managing to repair itself, the chances of it ever repairing itself are, I’d say, slim to none. Unplugging and re-plugging in the machine multiple times will not work. Don’t even think about trying that. In this case you might want to call a repairman who has the skills, knowledge, tools and experience to restore your (its) refrigerating abilities. I know this is a very difficult concept to grasp, but Kayla – if you don’t call someone to fix the refrigerator – NO ONE WILL. Perhaps if you drink a few glasses of wine before dialing the number, that will relax you and make this task a little less grueling. Just a suggestion.

Respectfully Yours (literally, too)
Kayla

Friday Afternoon Triumphs

So – since I’ve been birthing babies for the last 2 ½ years I’ve (obviously) put on a *few pounds here and there. I am just now beginning to shed a little of the excess weight, and that’s only because these two offspring refuse to feed and clothe and potty and bathe themselves; leaving me to run around haplessly (I have absolutely no clue if I used that word in the correct context…whatever) and tend to them. So – here I am at work in my ridiculously uncomfortable desk crossing and uncrossing my legs, raising and lowering my seat and trying just about anything to achieve a position in which I can function for the next 4 hours when I think “Wonder if I can sit Indian-style in the office chair again?”

I am happy to report that after some serious huffing and puffing and awkward assistance from a guy down the hall I have warped and maneuvered and twisted my body into the Indian style position – in my office chair. (Cue the Hallelujah chorus) I’m not letting this accomplishment go unnoticed either. I am finding any excuse to lure random passers-by into my office so that they might notice this feat and be tricked into thinking “Kayla must be really skinny if she can sit Indian Style in her office chair.” I have also decided that I will not remove myself from this position until 5:00 p.m. for a couple of reasons.

1) I’m not sure that I can be untwisted and unmangled from this chair by any means short of something surgical.
2) It took some serious effort to get here, I will damned if I get up simply because my bladder is about to explode (or other such nonsense)

I realize that at this point 95% of you are thinking; “it must suck to be a big girl and get excited over something this dumb” …. And you are correct – it pretty much does suck – but hey – if it weren’t for us big girls, you little ones wouldn’t look so good!


*By “a few” I mean “A whole lot”

“Happy Anniversary, honey.. 4 whole years – that’s a LOOONG time. It’s definitely time for a new one” (husband that is)
This was how mine and Allen’s morning conversation started. Of course - he answered me by saying “Just make sure he’s rich.”

All joking aside – today is a pretty special day for me. 4 years. 4 years. 4 years? I can’t believe I’ve been married to Allen for 4 years. It seems like we just met a few weeks ago. I will never forget the first few times I really “hung out” with Al. Although he was exactly the opposite of anything I ever thought I wanted – I could NOT get him out of my head. All I could think about was how “hot” he was, and how he made me laugh. It wasn’t too long before I decided that whether he liked it or not he was going to be mine, and I concentrated all of my efforts into having this man for myself. I didn’t have to put a whole lot of effort in however, because he (apparently) was diggin’ me as well. I think we both realized pretty early in the relationship that we really had something. It went far beyond physical attraction and surface infatuation. We had a dynamic that just worked; it worked so well that it almost broke us up a few times. We were so young – and neither of us ready to be faced with a lifelong commitment. It took a while, but we finally decided that young or not, mature or not, ready or not – we didn’t want to lose each other. A few years later Allen proposed and a year after that we were married! My heart still skips a beat when he walks in the room, I still love to be near him every second that I can. In fact – at Kenna’s wedding one of our good friends was commenting on how Allen and I seem like we just can’t get enough of each other. I will say that I love our relationship. We’ve been together so long that we know one another inside and out and we have a comfort level that knows no boundaries. But at the same time we still act like two teenagers just starting a relationship. Of course, we’ve had to fight like hell to get here. I cannot tell you how many people were against our marriage; how many people told us that we would never make it, and that we were too young and immature to know what we were getting ourselves into. Granted, we were very young and pretty immature; but we always knew it was going to be a tough road. We knew there would be rough days and hard times, we knew there would be points that getting out would be much easier than fighting to stay together. We walked into this marriage armed with that understanding as well as knowing that we had to put God at the top and center of our relationship. I guess in the scope of life 4 years really isn’t all that much, and we have a whole ‘lotta life left to screw this thing up – but we’re here now. We’ve made it thru 3 years of dating, 4 years of marriage, 2 kids with hopefully more to come and we’re still standing strong!

I love you, Allen. Thanks for sharing these years with me and sticking with me thru the rough stuff. Thank you for understanding my quirks and for strengthening my weaknesses. On this day four years ago I thought I loved you more than any human could love – I’ve since learned that I was very, very wrong as time and the birth of our daughters have multiplied my love for you exponentially.

Sweet girls..

We've had a great night at the McMillan house... Ashlyn played in her new Dora tent, Kenly rolled around in her new *contraption* and Mommy sat back and enjoyed it all! I did have a very serious conversation with Ashlyn tonight. It consisted of her explaining to me (all very matter-of factly) that birds fly to the moon, that her pink chair was on the moon - but she can't reach the moon - then she told me that her cousins Kaylee and Courtney could see the moon. The things that go on in that little head of hers make me laugh.

We've had a little jealousy around here in the last month or so. I think the fact that Kenly has a personality and is more mobile has been hard for Ashlyn to understand. I think we're on the other side of that for now though - as Ashlyn is back to being the caretaker. If Kenly cries Ashlyn RUNS to her screaming "I check her, Mommy!" I watched them playing tonight and it's amazing how Kenly's eyes light up any time Ashlyn is near. She already adores and looks up to her big sister and you can tell she just can't wait to run around and get into trouble with her. This is all still very new to me - the sibling bond is still such a foreign concept, but I love that I'm learning about it and witnessing it with my girls!

She is now Mrs. House!

Finally!! Kenna is married! I took all of the pictures with my *real camera* so I don’t have any from our little digital to share but I’ll try and find some soon. I will say that Kenna was the most beautiful bride (and that is in no way a biased opinion) and this was probably the most fun wedding I’ve ever been to (again, no bias). I suppose it helps that we all wore jeans, had a rockin’ band and 250 guests who were ready to party! I, of course bawled like a baby through the entire ceremony. I’m just so thrilled that my best friend found such an amazing man to spend her life with. David is so perfect for her and I can honestly say that I’ve known that from the first time she said his name. Of course – the fact that he puts up with me and my quirkiness makes him great in my book; he can really do no wrong as far as I’m concerned!

And now since the wedding madness is over perhaps I will be a better blogger… maybe even get some pictures of my kids up. Until then….

The joys and pains of motherhood...

I am amazed every day by motherhood. I was rocking Kenly to sleep tonight, and for the first time in a long time I was able to just *be* with her. No distractions. Just me and my second child rocking in harmony. I am blown away once again with the bond that exists between mother and child. She laid there across my chest peaceful, breathing softly and holding my finger in that precious little hand, and all was good with the world. It was a perfect moment. I sat there and just breathed her in, studied all of her little baby parts and tried to burn those pictures into my memory. She wasn't phased by my scatterbrained and stressed out and anxious mood - she just clinged on to me and wanted me to hold her, and of course sweet silent moments like these are what make being a mom so magical.

Now on to the "pains"...
I've been teaching Ashlyn to "shake her booty" (because we all know how imperitive it is for all 2 year olds to have this skill).. so we were shakin' it in the living room and I pinched Ashlyn and told her "you have such a cute little booty." She's in the copy-cat phase of life and promptly walked around behind me, pinched me and said "You have a cute little booty." Then she said "Mom, it's not little, it's BIG. Mine is little, yours is big"

Cute, Ashlyn. Reeeeaaaaal Cute. I just hope she doesn't take to letting complete stranger know how she feels about the size of their behinds; because I will not handle those situations appropriately. Rather than scold her - I feel that I will probably say something like "Well, we've taught her to be honest..." and then I will get punched in the face..... Nope. It's no good.

I should be working.... but

There are random white particles dancing about my office. It is peculiar.

It was a *Flamaskemy*

Don't bother looking *flamaskemy* up in the dictionary, it's not there. This, um, word was concocted in Kenna's chemically altered brain after her bachelorette party. (the altering chemical was beer, FYI) My Kenna is getting married on the 15th and we went to the Big D this weekend to celebrate the end of her singledom. I must send some shout-outs to the awesome Malouf's for letting us crash their awesome pad, and to my girl Tish and Lala for wrangling my babies until Allen could get home. Thanks so much - you really saved our lives!! It was truly a fabulous weekend. We had the best times just hanging by the pool, talking and laughing until the wee hours of the morning and finally by showing big city folk's how to truly party at Pete's Piano Bar.


I believe this is what a *Flamaskemy* looks like. By the way - apparently this word means "above fun, beyond happiness, etc"
Me and sweet Kenna. I am so very happy for and proud of her, and I'm super pumped that her marrying David will result in me gaining a second husband.... (don't ask)

This is the gang...

I'm not 100% sure why or how this picture came about...

This is Biff II. He has been the mascot for several bachelorette parties in his time... he was, at this point, tired as hell of hearing cackling women singing and watching them dance very badly. His only option was a dip in the *Cosmo* pool.

I probably won't have another post for at least a week.... I will be running around crazy trying to get Kenna married....

To swallow or not to swallow? (Totally G-rated)

I have long debated the use of the Crest Whitestrips . You see, my teeth have become, um... *un-white* (sounds better than yellowish, right?) but I've never been brave enough to use the strips for fear of the catastrophe that always seems to befall me when I attempt such things. Boy, do I know myself.....

So - as Allen and I are snuggling into bed I grab the box of whitestrips and attempt to read (again, in the dark - why did I not learn from the **Nyquil incident?) the directions. I open the package for the top strip ; somehow manage to put it on backwards...curse a lot... then finally get the wretched thing adhered to my teeth. I decide that I need a mirror to apply the bottom strip and walk over to the dresser. I got it on in a much quicker manner.... then go sit on the bed to wait the 30 minutes the box (I believe) said to wait. As I'm sitting the saliva in my mouth begins to build up... and the thought crosses my mind "Is it safe to swallow while wearing this contraption? Will the goo that is supposed to bleach my teeth have an effect on my insides if I swallow this?" I turn to get Allen's counsel on the matter only to find that he has passed out. I believe that was a good thing as he did not need to witness the ridiculousness that ensued. So I turn to the handy little booklet that comes with the whitestrips. I scour it, I even read the damned thing in Spanish - all to no avail. Nowhere does it mention whether or not it is safe to swallow. It states that you should not eat or drink whilst wearing the strips (check), it states that the peroxide used to whiten the teeth will not damage your tooth enamel, then it goes on to say "Whitestrips are proven safe when used as directed." Great, Does this mean that since I am not "directed" to swallow while I have these in that it's possibly not safe to do so? I decide to take the cautious route and not swallow... which means for 30 gruesome minutes I sat drooling spit+whitestrip goo onto a towel.. in the dark.... it was shear hell. I literally counted the seconds in the last minute... I removed the devices that were behind all of this agony - went and brushed the goo off of my teeth.. then I took a long,very satisfying drink of water...and at long last I swallowed. It was glorious. You don't realize how involuntary swallowing normally is until you are voluntarily trying to avoid it. I believe it put enormous strain on me thus giving me a sore throat.


**Let's just say that it was much too dark in my bedroom for determining the proper amount of Nyquil to administer (to myself). I'll leave the rest for your imagination....

8 years...

It has been 8 years today since my amazing father passed away. For those who might not know, my Dad (Roger) was killed in a tragic accident when I was 16. He and I had been so close. We spent countless hours watching baseball, fishing, and going on our long drives through the country. He was a truly remarkable man, and not just in my eyes. He could always make people laugh and he never ceased to have a smile. He also was always ready to help anyone and everyone who might need it. He had a servant’s heart. I can’t think of a time when my dad ever told anyone he was too busy or too tired to help. He was forever ready to lend his time, money, or anything else he could give.
It was unbelievably tough for me to lose him. I struggled for a very long time with questions, doubts, anger, and frustration. It was a few years later, and after a lot of prayer that I was finally able to move past the hurt and into the acceptance. It was God’s will to take my dad that day. I will never know why, and you know – that’s ok. It’s not for me to know. My dad was a truly incredible person and he deserves every minute he’s getting in Heaven. He deserves being in a place without pain, and I’m glad that he’s rejoicing with his Savior. I’m sure that he greets everyone he passes with a great big “Howdy” as he always did. I have a lot of people ask how I’m able to talk about my dad so often without it being uncomfortable, and the truth is that it is talking about him and remembering him that makes it so easy to get by. I love to think about all of the goofy things he did, and remember all of the times we spent laughing. I love to hear other’s memories of my dad and how he impacted their lives. I choose to remember the good and focus on it. Don’t get me wrong; I have my moments. There are times I hurt so badly, times I wish he was here to see my girls grow up, times I wish I could ask for his advice. But I keep focus on what I know… and what I know is that I was blessed beyond belief to have had him in my life for the 16 years that I did. I got to call one of the purest, sweetest, and best of men my “Daddy,” and I’m all the better for it. I will ask of everyone I know who knew him not to grieve on this day. Please rejoice and remember Roger’s life. Remember how awesome he was and know that while we miss him terribly here, God needed him there; and His plan is better than any of our’s could ever be.

Email conversations...

The following dialogue took place between Jessica and I via email earlier this week:
(*disclaimer… this is not G-rated, and possibly contains false information as well as sexist notions, please read (or don’t) accordingly)



Jessica: Hello Darling! I’m wearing my new scent of choice, but I can’t tell if it smells good or if it wears well throughout the day. Care to take a whiff?

Kayla: Well, I would love to help but my *sniffer is completely blocked. Perhaps if it is in better condition tomorrow?
*This is in reference to me having a stuffy nose…

Jessica: Haha. I’m an idiot. =) Yes, perhaps another day that your little guy isn’t under the weather. Did I just say your nose was of the opposite sex?

Kayla: You did just refer to my nose as a boy. I will have to agree with that seeing as only something with a penis would cause a girl as much trouble as this sniffer of mine has.

Jessica: I would try and comment back to that, but what you just said was brilliant – pure genius!

Kayla: Don’t you know that this is why I call our *monthly visitor* George, rather than Aunt Flo like so many others do? It is because I feel that periods must have a penis. Nothing of female origin would dare cause another female that sort of agony. I mean, it was men who invented the bra, and pantyhose (I’m sure) and all other things of nuisance to women.

Jessica: High hells – oops, I mean high heels…Hmm. What else? There are tons of things I feel. And you are oh so right about calling *him* George. In fact, I think from now on I will do the same.

Kayla: I am SURE that a human with a penis was behind the concept of women shaving legs/underarms and the like. I mean, I do not like to have hair in those places, no doubt. However, I’m sure it didn’t bother women of generations past until some a-hole man decided we looked better without it. And now here we are, spending countless hours ridding ourselves of it. Never you mind that men don’t worry about it. They just go through life – day in and day out – letting leg and underarm hair grow and grow; and they sure as hell don’t ever have to worry about a bikini line. I mean, even the metrosexuals who trim *down there* don’t have to be concerned about going to the beach if they’ve gone a few days without grooming. Those huge, oversized board shorts cover it all up. Which leads me to another man-invented thing. Bikini’s – but that’s for another day.

Jessica: You are on a roll darling! And don’t even get me started pm everything else. Why is it that women must be obsessed with our hair? Products! Coloring! Cuts! New style after new style! All the while, guys were intended to look absolutely heavenly with nothing more than bed head? Why? It takes me hours to look the way I do, but I’m supposed to swoon over something that put no more thought into what he looked like than “which ball cap am I wearing today?” I could look hot with bed head too, but like you said, some a-hole man decided that it would be unacceptable to run around in this fashion.


Kayla: and make up, REALLY? Why must I paint on a face every day (well.. who am I kidding; I only wear makeup on the weekends) to impress a man who probably never even washes his? I must go through layers upon layers of foundation, powder, shadows and blushes, lipsticks and lipglosses, eyeliner, mascara; on and on and on and on – plus spend insane amounts of money on the crap. Meanwhile boys simply run a razor over the 4square inches of their beardline and call it done. I quit. I will become a man. It is as simple as that.

Jessica: Not to mention jewelry and nails?! Colored toenails, really? Yes, because that’s going to get me farther in life. Me man too!

Kayla: My only concern with being a man is the fascination that all males seem to have with their genitalia; and it’s from birth. Smallish men things play with their “junk” even before they know what it’s used for. All of this leads me to believe that because this equipment would be new to me, I would do absolutely nothing but play with myself for months on end, and I refuse to have that much contact with a penis. Refuse.

Jessica: Speaking of males, one just burped disturbingly loud in my office. Why is this acceptable? Why must we be prim, proper and polished when men remain to be piggish, pouty and pungent?

Kayla: Precisely. If I were to just belch right out loud here in the office I would be looked upon as trashy, low-class, rude, etc, while I’m sure whichever of the boy species burped in your office is being congratulated by the other boys for such a wonderful display of gas-release.

"Yes, Kayla; it is normal to...

Stick your finger in a pig's ass." There's a title for ya.

I happen to be a little bit of a *hick* if you will, and I participated in events dubbed "Stock Shows" in my high school years. As it happens, Jessica also *showed* (as we "in the know" call it) and she and I somehow happened on the topic the other night. We were discussing hogs, purple oil, boars that by chance made it thru to the big show, etc when I asked her if she had ever performed anal protrusion on a pig. She, indeed, had not.

As it happened - I was somewhat of a stock show rookie the year the incident went down. I was on my way to show this particular pig when one of the stock show moms (who is loud and obnoxious and overbearing) stopped me and asked me to *give her my finger.* I was clueless as to what she might need with it and unwittingly held it out. She proceeded to slather on some rather warm feeling gupe and instructed me to stick my finger, with the warm gupe, into the pig's butt hole. I realize that most humans, expecially female humans, would have at that point given the woman a *different* finger and told her to do it herself - but I was naive and went ahead with the procedure. It didn't do any good as my pig was promptly sent "to the trucks."

When I saw how completely foreign this whole thing seemed to Jess I started to wonder. Was I bamboozled? Is there a video out there labled "watch this dumb girl stick her finger in a pig's butt? Have people been poking fun at me for years without my knowledge? After more consideration I decided it must be true; it was a joke at my expense. They had chosen me - the most gullable creature on earth - to be the victim of a cruel prank. A-holes.

I believe Jess could see how distraught (sp?) I was about the whole mess - so she proceeded to call her dad at midnight to enquire as to the vailidity of putting warm gupe you know where. Validation was mine, folks - it is apparently normal practice to do this (I won't say *stick your finger in a pig's ass* again.. it's gross) in order to make a pig move better/faster.

I believe this will be yet another tale that I will regret posting... I also believe a new mantra is in order : *I will NOT post embarrassing/humiliating/gross stories involving myself anymore.*
*I will NOT post embarrassing/humiliating/gross stories involving myself anymore.*

"Shut-Up You Little Nerds"

I was on a conference call today with a loan officer and his assistant who were both using insanely large words and fancy schmancy banker talk to try and convince me to *alter* the terms of a loan. I wasn't budging, I knew they were wrong, and after a few minutes of their continued pleading the thought popped in my head; "Shut-Up You Little Nerds." Why that phrase you ask?? Let me explain.
I don't remember a whole lot about my childhood/adolescense, but I do remember one particular teacher very well. I believe her name was Ms. Thomas and she was our 8th grade science teacher. I remember that she always sold us those giant pickles in class and that she would say quite regularly "Shut-Up You Little Nerds" I think I realize now why she sold the pickles (aside from the fact that I'm almost positive she pocketed the money).

A bunch of 8th graders+giant pickles shoved in their throats=silence. Smart woman. Now I must figure out how to shove giant pickles in a few choice loan officer's mouths.

P.S. All you Slatonites out there - do you remember this lady? Was it Ms. Thomas?

One is 4 months old, the other is a DaVinci!

Kenly was 4 months old on the 4th, and today was her checkup and shots. She's in the 56th percentile for weight and the 91st for height. Apparently the McMillan chicks are ALL going to be taller than Allen! Ashlyn has stayed in the 95th percentile for height since birth... which means these poor girls are in for a childhood of towering over their peers and being teased constantly. Wonderful. Don't get me wrong - I love being so tall now (and I'm glad the girls will have some height), but it is not fun when you're 9 years old and stand 2 heads above everyone else your age. Ah well.... everyone gets teased about something, right?


This is the latest pic of "Baby K".... all 4 months of her!
This afternoon I decided to take the girls outside and let Ashlyn play with sidewalk chalk. Of course, I had to get in on the action, too. I asked Ashlyn what she wanted me to draw and she yelled "ME!" I think we're going to have issues with this child and vanity... hmm. Anyway - here is my attempt at "Chalking" Ashlyn! *** I will note that this is actually like 5 feet long in the driveway... I guess I got a little carried away***

And here she is... the artist at work.

Why can't I be one of those??

(The *uniques* that is.) You know, the geniuses, the artsy, the writers, the musicians, etc. But not just any old *unique,* I'm talking about the ones who are extreme. Writers who lock themselves away from society for years, those who have so much intelligence they can't interact in society..I have recently come across quite a few of these intriguing souls and I find myself longing to be one. One might say, "Kayla, you are weird." Yes, I'm *weird*, but that's the negative connatation. In all honesty I'm quite cookie cutter - married, kids, 8-5 job, so on and so forth. Do not get me wrong; I LOVE my roles as a wife and mother and wouldn't trade them. I just wish there was something at least minutely *unique*about me. Such as a passion for abstract art, a zest for rare and fine wine (I currently drink a bottle of $5.99 crap), a ridiculous need for expensive shoes even. (Jimmy Choos, what?)... something that puts me against the grain. I believe it's my new mission. I will search my brain for my inner *unique*... any suggestions??

My Hot Hubby

Allen is working in Plainview this week so he's been driving home every night - and it has been SO nice. He helps so much and the girls are just happier when he's around. It's also great to be here when he comes in from work - he's dirty and smells like grease but it's so sexy! He mentioned the other night that he is ready for another baby... which I believe is a terrific idea. He'll just have to borrow some other woman - because this baby baking factory is closed for awhile!! 3 kids under 3?? I'm pretty sure that's a one way ticket to insanity. I will ask that no on invite us to any amusement parks, as the last 2 times we've been to 6 flags we've come home pregnant.

Oh - shout out to B-Hop, I have a question for you. How do you read this blog with your trick eye?? (Hey - Tonya said we have to play nice around her- but I can annoy you via internet!)

Ouch.

ouch... I was thrown for a very big loop recently, and my feelings are hurt. I suppose the answer is to: A. STOP being so damn sensitive and B. Stop caring about others so much. I truly wish I had the "I don't give a damn what people think of me" attitude. I've tried and tried to be unmoved by other's opinions but I can't do it. Why do I let other humans (some merely aquaintences) have so much power over my life? Ugh.

ARGH.

I had taken precious time to post new pics of the girls with great little stories about them and the typical thing mommies do - and blogger pooped out on me. ARGH. So - because I am old, exhausted and now frustrated I will leave you with this one pic of the oldest McMillan offspring. I found her like this the other afternoon. She had put my purse on her shoulder, her sunglasses on - and had my car keys in one hand and the wallet in the other. She walked toward the door and said 'Bye Mom, going shopping." Poor Allen, his wallet will never recover from having 3 girls.

*Mr. Tonight* rocks my face off!

A month or so ago I was talking to Jessica and she mentioned that one of our co-workers is in an 80's cover band.. WHAT?? We decided it was imperitive that we catch one of their shows and support Adam, so last weekend we went to the show at Buffalo Wild Wings. Let me tell you - these guys are beyond awesome! I love them so much that I took some more friends to the show last night at Rocky LaRue's, and once again I was very impressed. Everyone there was dancing, singing at the top of their lungs and just having a great time. The group that I had with me was thoroughly impressed and we're all pumped to catch the next show!! They cover songs like "Jessie's Girl", "867-5309", "I Love Rock N Roll", etc... so much fun!!! If you love 80's music I HIGHLY suggest finding Mr. Tonight on myspace and going to the next show; I guarantee you will have a great time!! (And chances are you'll see me dancing and singing really loud somewhere in the back!)

This is Adam, my friend from work - I love watching him!! YOU ROCK, Adam!!

Notice the "Mr. Tonight" sign - it's Nintendo... these guys could not get any cooler!!

And the Randomness never fails...

I am writing about a lot of random things lately; I suppose it has to do with Allen not getting to come very much the last couple of weeks and I'm a little lonely. Ah, the life of a railroader's wife. Which speaking of - I have NOTHING but the deepest respect and awe for Army wives -how do you do it?? (Lindsay - you are the only one I know personally - kudos to you for keeping things together and staying strong for Britten while Justin is gone)

Moving on to the reason behind this random thought; I feel it is necessary to post the following disclaimer: I am weird.
Yes, I'm a very odd human and I know it. The older I get the more I seem to realize just how strange I am compared to the rest of the human race. My brain works (or doesn't work so much) in the most precarious of ways. Of course, the good thing about understanding my weirdness is that I now understand why I am not and have not ever been the most popular of people. There aren't too many humans out there who get me. My sense of humor is quite far-fetched - most people look at me like I am speaking in tounges when I try to make a joke. However I have found that there are a precious handful who appreciate it and understand it. For these people I am very thankful!! So, if you're ever reading this blog or even talking to me in person and walk away thinking "this chick is a full-fledged freak" do not fret - you are not thinking something that I am not aware of. Heck, you can even say it to someone else. "you know, that Kayla human is a little off." This will not constitute as talking behind my back, it will rather be categorized in the "true statements" folder of your brain.

I believe the extremely ironic thing about this post is that it, in itself, is very strange. Who feels the need to proclaim to the world their weirdness? Only the truly weird, that's who.

Where have all the stalkers gone?

Is anyone reading this thing?? 4 posts with no comments.... this is a bad day. I suppose part of me secretly hopes that there are true blue stalkers of my blog out there. You know - people who don't know me but read this blog anyway, as well as people who know me but don't want me to know they're looking at this thing....
If there are any such stalkers out there... HI! Keep on stalkin'... it's fine with me!

I do have a funny blog stalking story...
After I first located these blogs and began faithfully reading them every day I eventually would read the blogs linked to pages of people I knew. (wow... English teachers all over the world are cringing at that sentence) I found a few of these blogs to be super entertaining and continue to read them to this day. Well - not so long ago I was in an undisclosed restaurant (I can't give away too much info.. don't want people knowing I'm stalking them) and I saw one of the humans I read about daily in the flesh... sitting right there - What is so funny to me is that for a split second I was going to walk up and say "Hey, _____, how are ya?" Nevermind that_________ doesn't know me from Adam and would no doubt take out a restraining order against me. OOPS!

A random complaint..

So, the head haunchos here at PlainsCapital Bank seem to have hot molten lava running through their veins and have taken it upon themselves to override the thermostats in all of the offices. Apparently -10 degrees is a comfortable temperature for them. Meanwhile, my fingers have turned to ice and my joints are all creaking from being darn near frozen solid. Perhaps when I have succombed (is that a word?) to frostbite and they are having to shell out mega bucks in worker's comp they will relent that I am a grown adult human and I am perfectly capable of selecting a temperature at which I will remain comfortable, happy - and well, alive. GRRR.

First Haircut and a Growing Baby!

Kenly is growing so fast, and it's killing me! She first rolled "tummy to back" on the 4th of July; then 2 weeks ago she started rolling back to tummy and she's rolling EVERYWHERE now. She has also started laughing and giggling; it's hilarious. I know it's only been 2 years since Ashlyn was this age but I just forgot how quickly it all goes by.

Kenly is quite taken with the Bumbo chair - she finally sits comfortably in it without being a bobble head! I think this is also the best "Roger" picture I have of her - those who knew him, does she not look JUST like him?? GREAT STUFF!

It seems that Diva Ashlyn cannot handle me taking pictures of Kenly alone. EVERY time I grab the camera and take a quick shot I hear "MOMMY, pictures of me, TOOOOOO"
Yes, your Majesty! Ok - so on to the haircut. Yes, I know that it is ridiculous that my kid is 2 and half and hasn't had her first hair cut. But it must be understood that she didn't have ANY hair until she was a little over 1. I think it's taken this long because Allen and I just couldn't bear to cut what took so long to grow in the first place!! However a few weekends ago I decided to bite the bullet... the ends of her hair were super blonde and were still baby hair, and it was always tangled. So I made the appointment and off we went. I did grab a before picture for good measure!

This is before...

Ashlyn blew us away with how well behaved she was. She sat super still, didn't cry or whine once and she did everything the girl asked her to do. We were so proud - Allen took her for a celebratory ice cream when it was over!

I only got a few "after" shots because I didn't like the way the chick styled it - I will post more later of the new and improved Ashlyn hair. NO MORE MULLET!!!!

Excuse the sideways picture - I'm slowly going out of my mind. (Is that a line in a country song?)

A blogger apology

It came to my attention within minutes of posting this blog (thanks for the call - you know who you are) that I might have offended some with my "sitting on a road in India learning how to charm snakes" comment. I must now make it known that, in no way, was it my intention to do so. Please understand that I hail from the tiniest town in Texas, and have not been very cultured in this life. Likewise I was probably way more interested in the cute guy 3 desks away or engrossed in studying my latest basketball opponent during all history/geography classes in high school to remember anything. APOLOGIES!

It has also come to my recent attention (and this is random...shocking) that due to the location of the window in our master bathroom my very private pooping ventures are not so private. It appears that when it is dark outside - the light in the bathroom casts very precarious shadows that can be easily viewed from the road in front of our house. Damn the luck!

Is it odd that I can count on both hands the number of times I've ever uttered a syllable about pooping outloud, yet I have somehow managed in a matter of days to publish on this blog 2 very intimate tales of my need to "do the number 2?" ARGH.

Adventures in Hookah

Ahh, the Hookah. I've wanted to "Hookah" for quite some time (ever since I saw it on a Real World episode years ago). I even found a Hookah bar in Amarillo and swore I would make the drive one weekend to try it out. Then, 2 weeks ago I discovered there was no need for me to leave town; for folks, right here in your very own Lubbock, TX there is a quaint and delightful little Hookah bar. In passing, Jessica mentioned having gone to the aforementioned Hookah dive and I almost fell out of my chair I was so jazzed! We then set a date and Saturday was it. From the moment we opened the door I was in love. There were cute and comfy couches, little bistro tables, and a menu chock-full of every possible Hookah flavor any human could want. Jessica and I decide to try Apple, and soon after ordering - the Hookah, in all its glory, was delivered to our perch and thus began my Hookah adventure. There were many laughs and great stories and delicious smoke aplenty. I can't wait to go again!

For those who might not know, "Hookah" is simply flavored tobacco smoke. There is no nicotine (I don't believe) and certainly no other mind altering agents in the stuff... Responsible for a 24 year old mom to smoke this for 3 hours? Probably not - but a great experience none the less!


Jessica and the Hookah... YUM!

I kept imagining myself in India sitting on a corner road learning how to charm snakes from a local... and I probably shouldn't share things like that, I'm already weird enough!

The Hookah....

I've got a lot to catch up on, I just have no time lately. I will try and get this thing up to date soon... Am I already a blog-failure??

P.S. I have NO clue why this entire entry is underlined. I have now puzzled over my toolbar options for a very unreasonable amount of time to no avail. I do apologize...

Persistant Bowel Movements

If the title disturbes you in any way, I beg of you not to read further.

I must preface this tale by saying that I am somewhat of a "closet pooper." I will ONLY poop in my own house, on my own toilet, in my own time. I won't really even discuss poop or the need to poop very much, I just feel it's disgusting. However, there comes a time in every woman's life when decorum and class are not an option.
We took Ashlyn out on the lake a couple of weekends ago to let her swim. After we got back Allen and I decided we wanted to go for a little while without her to swim and intertube, etc. So we loaded up in the boat with my cousin Tiffany and her husband Jerry. We got to one of our swimming coves and were having a great time. I was sunning on the 'tube - getting attacked by giant horseflies and man-eating turtles and decided that we should go elsewhere to swim. As I was boarding the boat it hit me.. I had to poop. I REALLY had to poop. I make this statement outloud (much to everyone's shock) and it becomes a great source of laughter for Allen. Being the accomodating husband that he is, Allen offers to drive us back to the dock so I can get back to camp and handle this matter comfortably. I entertain the thought but decide that the urge has passed, and we should just continue swimming. We find another cove and right as we stop my insides begin to scream and I realize this is serious. Allen again offers to whisk me off to a more appropriate locale, only this time I decline because it becomes swimmingly (ha - nice play on words..) apparent that I have no time. It is coming - it is coming now, and I will either defecate in the boat or in the water. Obviously the water is the best choice for all involved and I jump in. My first attempt was unsuccessful - we'll chalk that up to stage fright. Allen again chimes in and gives me his best "crapping in the lake" advice. This includes informing me of the best position to keep from swimming in the poop once it is out - and showing me the best handle in case I need to help this whole mess along. I grab the handle, assume the position and in one small push - the A-bomb. There it is. I've pooped. And it's not a dainty little lady-poop. It's not even a larger - yet compacted man poop. It is full out warfare that has come from me and it is everywhere. Thanks to Allen's tips (gosh, that guy is handy) I manage to escape without touching any of it. My poor cousin Tiffany, however happened to be on the tube and inevitably floated right over the top of the evidence. It was mortifying. I pooped. In the lake. With other humans around. They saw me do it. They saw the actual poop. Can life get ANY worse than this? I can honestly say I have NEVER seen Allen laugh so hard in the 8 years we've been together - and for the rest of the weekend the story was told and retold. Probably will be retold for the rest of my life, one of the most glorious moments in the life of Kayla.

The Pep Rally Incident

At the urging of a few of my friends, I have begun compiling some of the funny, embarrassing and/or just plain weird stories of my life. Due to my lacking grammar skills and my inability to convert telling a funny story out loud to writing a funny story on paper these stories would never be published (No, Kenna I will not even try) I will however post random funny stories on this blog where there are no editors nor can I see anyone's reaction while they are reading the aforementioned tales. This way my pride is not injured, and I can believe that anyone reading this is getting the best laugh of their life (even if they almost fell asleep from boredom instead.)
So - on to the story behind the title.
When I was a freshman in highschool, I somehow ended up on the varsity basketball squad. (Notice I did not say I "made" the team. Quite frankly, I believe the coaches just kept me around because I was a big gal) Either way, the team made the regional playoffs that year and the school decided to throw a pep rally for us before the tournament. At some point before the 'rally we were talking about all of the football pep rallies and how the guys would run out to the middle and create a huge dog pile on one another. Foolishly, I believed this discussion to be a plan of action. So the end of pep rally comes and the band is playing our school song. I felt that this was our cue (and remembering that I'm a big gal - I figured I'd get on the bottom to prevent injuries to my team mates) and I took off in a dead sprint to the middle of the court. I then dove (very intently) onto the ground waiting for my comrades to join. I wait.. perhaps they didn't get the cue. Perhaps they have all tripped over each other on their way. I then begin to hear outrageous laughter and it hits me. I am alone. None of the other girls came. None of them ever even intended on coming. At that point I realize the gross humiliation that I am currently enduring and begin to peel myself up off of the ground. The whole school witnessed it... Me - the big awkward freshman who shouldn't have been on the varsity squad to begin with - committing the worst act of "uncool" ever. I slinked back to my teammates (who were also laughing at me ..very hard) and watched all hopes of ever being "one of the cool girls" in high school slip out of my fingers. I had to nurse my very wounded pride for a long, long time following that tragic moment in my life. Even now I have to shake my head at myself whenever I think about it. What. A. Loser.

Fun at the lake!

We loaded up the girls and headed to the lake this weekend. We have so much going on this summer with weddings and vacations and this was one of the only times we were going to get to go. I was unsure of how Ashlyn would act in the boat. She loved it last summer but she was also too young to know to be scared. I shouldn't have worried - she had a great time! She loves for Daddy to throw her from the boat to the water (in Mommy's arms of course) and she wants to swim as far away as she can.


Uncle Steven was there and agreed that Miss Kenly looks EXACTLY like my dad. I love that!

Ashlyn did NOT want to be held in the water "Don't touch me" she kept saying.. oy!

Oh - you have to hold on to this girl on the boat. She tries to jump out while it's running. We also got this new "Dora" lifejacket before we left. When we got back from being on the boat she layed it down in Kenly's bed and said "Dora's tired. Night night, Dora." HA!

It was SO beautiful out there this weekend, I wish we had more time to go back this year. Maybe we can squeeze in a weekend or two.

An Unwelcome Guest

So...
About a week ago I was sitting in our recliner when I heard this very loud flapping sound coming from the fireplace. I looked at Allen who said "We apparently have a bird in the chimney." I get somewhat panicked at this thought but Allen reassures me that the flue is shut - so the bird cannot come in. Great. As the days wore on and the flapping continued my thoughts took another turn concerning the bird. "The bird is stuck. The stuck bird cannot get food. The stuck bird that is starving will die. We will have a dead stuck starved bird in our chimney. How do you get a bird out of your chimney?"Of course, Allen's "man" solution is to start a fire and smoke it out. There are a few obvious problems with this idea. I feel it is cruel to roast the bird in the chimney, and if we do roast it - that just leaves us with a dead, char-broiled bird that is still in the chimney. Ashlyn has heard this flapping and asked what it was - she has since been informing any and all guests at our house that there is a bird "up there" (as she points to the chimney). <-- this had no value to the story, I just had to add something about the kid! Fast forward to today at lunch. I opened the garage and walked in. I heard this loud "crashing of dishes" type of noise. I immediately think there is an intruder. That thought is extinguished quickly as I can plainly see the kitchen and there are no humans in sight. I then think there is some sort of varmint. I have visions of rats, opossums, armadillos, etc running in my mind. I cautiously round the corner and find nothing on the floor. Whew. Coast is clear. OR NOT SO MUCH. I glance upward and there on the ledge of our cabinets is a huge grayish colored pigeon thing. Staring at me. I FREAKED OUT. I go straight to my phone. I think; "Allen is gone - he can't come help me. I can call David (Kenna's fiancé) to come extricate this thing - but then I'll look silly." I finally decide to call Allen. After laughing at me he tells me to open the door to the garage, open the garage and "poke a broom at it" Um.. I can open the doors. No problem. But I will NOT poke anything at this raptor-bird that wants to gauge my eyes out. No sir. However, there is no alternative. I can't leave the bird in the house all afternoon. I take a breath. I am going to have to do this myself. I grab the broom and after a few screams I poke at the thing. It flies - into the window. Super. This particular bird is an idiot. I poke at it again - it flies right past the door leading to the outside and makes perch on the window curtain rod in the living room. At this point I realize that not only am I not succeeding I am shewing this thing further into the house. I make one final attempt and after a few more crashes into random objects the bird makes it's way into the garage and finally into the wild blue yonder. I say a prayer, grab my food and eat my lunch in the driveway.

Tummy time with sister

The other night I put Kenly down for tummy time while I ran to the restroom. I walked back in the living room to this:

After laying there a minute, Ashlyn ran and got her favorite "My Little Pony" book and started "reading" it to Kenly.

It is so sweet to watch the bond between them forming. I had no idea how close siblings could be since I never had any of my own. It is a truly amazing thing. However, I'm sure it won't be too long before I'm posting pics of them fighting!

Randi's Bachelorette

Saturday night was Miss Randi's bachelorette party. It was so much fun, but definitely reminded me that I am an old married mom! These girls know how to have a good time and I can't quite keep up. We started with dinner at Caboose, then headed to Kenna's house for the lingerie shower, and then boarded the shot bus and headed for Chimi's and Wild West. This was actually the first bachelorette party that I've been to (that I wasn't pregnant) since my own! I am so excited for Randi and Ryan and I can't wait for the wedding!

Stacy and Kenna... Love these 3rd nite girls!

Ah, Brandi! This is actually one of the sweetest girls you'd ever meet. She and I had just had a few too many jello shots. (Hey - the married ladies' who's hubbies work out of town have to let loose every now and again!)

And here is the lovely Randi! I guess she knows who to keep on her side!

This would be Stormi. I just met her that night and decided she is my "womancrush." She was so much fun, she's beautiful, and she has a wonderful deep voice. YOU ROCK STORMI!

Me and Randi.. I hate being in a picture with someone so beautiful!!

All of the girls (minus me) at the party.. this girl has a lot of close friends, and they were all so much fun!