Stop.

And smell these flowers I encountered on my walk the other day.

The Graduate

My very first time living in LA was when I came to live with Laila and her mom while her dad and Mack went to do Hurricane Katrina clean up. She had just started kindergarten, and when I came to live with her, she was still wearing sandals. It was November. 

She started getting a cough and her teacher gave orders that Laila was to start wearing socks and shoes. I was the designated enforcer, and I thought it would be a simple enough task to convince a 5-year-old that socks were amazing. And then I learned how hard parenting really is and that I didn't want to do it.

Laila was hilarious back then, coming up with expressions that have become a part of my daily vocabulary and central to our family dynamic even five years later. She's grown about 20 inches since kindergarten and officially passed up her mom in height and shoe size this year. She's a chatter box of preteen girl, and she chooses apps for her iPhone by searching "annoying" and "talking" in the App Store. She sometimes chews with her mouth open, and sometimes she is so beautiful you can't resist touching her face. 

Laila is 11 years old now, and she is officially done with elementary school. I am completely baffled as to how that is possible. 

Daddydudeday

Little Man in Training

Ben spent the night with me the other day, and while I taught him the term "jerk off" is synonymous with thieves and that when you're really angry, it's okay to beat the hell out of a tree, I did manage to work in some constructive lessons as well.

Last summer when he and Leiah stayed with me, I introduced Ben to doing dishes. He actually liked doing them, and I had a just-right stool that made it an easy enough task. This time, I figured it was time to teach him how to cook eggs.

I don't know what it is about eggs, but the men in my life seem to love them and have a real knack for cooking them. Mack can do a poached egg as well or better than the fanciest restaurant, and both his dad Tom and my dad Steve are masters of the fried egg. I even remember my real dad Greg cooking eggs when I was a little little kid, which is when I learned how to mash the fried egg for a magical egg slurry. Ben needs to be in on this Man Egg Club, which is why I helped him make his first batch of scrambled eggs.

If only he could make the coffee...

Anna Elizabeth Kelly. Yeah, I met her. Yeah, she stole my heart.

In the frenzy of life a couple weeks ago, I carved out a few hours and headed north to Cinci to meet Anna Elizabeth Kelly.

The first baby of one of my best friends, no one knew Anna was going to be an Anna until she arrived on May 14th... an early birthday present for me (thanks Jen!). Her parents are meticulous planners, so the fact that they didn't find out if they were having a boy or a girl basically means hell froze. I have no idea how Jen and Mike resisted knowing.

Anna was totally newborn when I met her, which means she was a gooey lump of limbs and sugar. I showed up during a diaper change, so I invited myself in and was treated to Anna's baby belly debut. She lost her button as I walked in, and I couldn't believe she was already that grown up.

Jen looked totally put together, as usual. She dressed Anna in a little kitty onesie and leopard print leggings and handed her over to Auntie Amber.

At which point, I turned into a blob of love and laid on the couch with a little piece of heaven on my chest.

Anna is such a good baby, so calm and cozy, literally a bundle of delicious goodness. I like a good baby, but what I like more than that is a baby with personality, and Anna was oozing personality at less than two weeks old. Just look at these facial expressions she's mastered in her short life... the pucker, the smirk, the whatchutalkinboutwillis, the fake sleep grin, the silencer, the happy baby. I'm telling you there will be a show someday called "That's so Anna."

I'd barely gotten my baby fix when I had to get on the road, so this is not the last you'll see of Anna. Jen and Mike have quite the Cincinnati lure now... seriously, look at these things.

Anna, it was so good to meet you, such medicine to hold you. I can't wait to teach you all sorts of funny faces as you grow up. Welcome to the awesome world of being a Taurus!

Just another explosive Monday.

A couple of Mondays ago I got a text from Mack: "Be careful coming home. Transformer in front yard about to explode. Avoid the front yard."

Totally normal, right?

Well, here's what happened.

Yeah, you see that tree laying on that powerline? That's coming out of our flowerbed. I'd been scoping the flower bed for poison ivy about a week prior to this event and noticed the base of the tree seemed hollow and rotten. When I mentioned it to Mack he was all, "It's fine. Look how healthy it is at the top. Totally alive."

Uh huh.

The landlords were in town so all we had to do was sit on the porch and watch as the tree guys weaved their buckets through power lines and cut that tree into firewood. It was pretty funny later when I got on Facebook and saw a lot of people wondering why there was no power downtown near Woodland Park. Oops.

Holy freaking tornado.

Still got it.

I have sooo much to write about but today was the first day that a dude ever gave me his number out of the blue so that trumps everything else. Not even my husband gave me his number out of the blue.

The guy today, let's call him Peacock Johnny, just happened to be the most impressive male specimen at the public pool. That doesn't sound like much, but in this case, he was hot. Leigh and I noticed him pretty much upon arrival, when we did our initial survey. Part of the appeal of the public pool is the people watching, and part of the appeal of the people watching at the public pool is the high volume of human disasters there. We are equal opportunity watchers, but when we see someone delicious, we act like good married women and stare at them without expression under the cover of our sunglasses.

Peacock Johnny knew he was hot, and he kept walking around the pool, getting in, getting out, walking around, laying out, getting in, etc. Leigh and I, we get in, we get out when it starts to smell like pee, we lay down once an hour. Peacock Johnny was all over the place, but, as I said, he was delicious to watch so we didn't mind.

I was wearing a bathing suit, like a good public pool patron, a fact that makes me getting a number from a hot guy all the more insane. It was a grandma-esque little number that I bought so my boobs would be contained while playing with Laila or Ben in the pool. Also so that I could play frisbee or other beachy fun games without grossing everyone out. It's from Lands End, it fits terribly, it's a tankini that looks like decorative elephant skin, it is strapless.

Guess who liked my "no strap" look? Yep, Johnny Peacock.

Of course we didn't talk to him or anything because at the pool we like to give off an air of superiority. While he was leaving, he walked up behind where we were sitting, did a little psssst, and handed me his digits through the fence. At which point I looked at Leigh and we high fived.

It took me 33 years to do it, I had to be married so it doesn't matter, but I finally got a number! And it was from a sexy beast!

(I just told Mack about it and he said, "I hope he likes the two black eyes look if he comes near my wife." No way Johnny Peacock is that funny.)