I never thought this would happen. I played rough and took spills my entire childhood and never broke a bone. Adrian did the same...no broken bones. Xavier's seven, and while he has had stitches, he's never had a broken bone. Orian has always been the tough guy. He'd fall and scrape a knee and look up and say, "I'm fine." It was always "I'm fine." But not tonight. We took the kids bowling, and were having a great time. If you've never watched children bowl, you are really...

Tonight Adrian and I went to a 3 Doors Down concert at Pipeline Café in Honolulu. We had a blast. It's been just about two years since our last concert (an outdoor concert...RHCP and Snoop Dogg...pouring rain) and 3DD was a great one to break our concert celibacy. Tickets were sold out for tonight's concert...in fact, 3DD will be having another one in the same place tomorrow night because of the huge response. Pipeline Café is a small venue (smallest I've ever been in for a concert)...

My parents emailed me some pics from last summer that they just got developed, and I thought I would share them with JU. The first pic is of the two of my boys up against a painting of Adrian's shadow that is on the wall on the landing of the stairs. Before Adrian deployed, I traced him on the wall kind of as a way to keep the boys thinking about him. It also serves as something to measure them against. After he had been gone for a few weeks, I decided to paint the outline in and turn i...

Marge: Mmmm ... who left these muddy claw prints on my clean floor? Homer: Sorry, Marge. Pinchy got all dirty in the yard chasing birds. But don't worry! I put him in a nice, hot bath. Bart: [sniffs the air] Hey, what smells so good? Homer: Yeah ... Pinchy? Pinchy!?! Oh ... =Pinchy=!!!!! [he runs out of the room worried] Later that night, Homer is crying at the dining room table, taking bites out of Pinchy's dead body while the family is watching. Homer: [eating, crying] Oh, ma...

I'm a grown up. I'm responsible for myself. I'm also responsible for two little people. Daily, I find myself doing things that I hate because they need to be done, or because they are the prudent thing to do. I really hate getting up early in the morning. I mean, most normal people don't care for it, either, but my hatred for getting up early (which is anything before 9:30 am) is quite intense. I wait until the last possible moment to get up and get the kids out of bed to get read...

So, I changed out my tongue jewelry today. I decided to go with my green on with the little bomb icon instead of the skull and crossbones. Don't know why. It's just what I felt like. These are not the best pics in the world, but they give you an idea of what it looks like. The little pic that shows the bottom of the piercing is cropped . . . I had my eyes closed in the pic . . . it was an accident, but the photo came out looking like I was in the throes of orgasm or something and I d...

My youngest child is pretty handy. He can run the vacuum cleaner. He can dress himself. He can run the DVD player. He can make his own ham and cheese sandwich. And today he has learned (well, taught himself) a new skill. I heard him scurrying around in the kitchen . . . rummaging through the pantry . . . I could even hear the sound of his flabby little belly pressed up against the counter. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but I suspected he was busy making himself as sandwich, ...

Your love feels like wrapping myself up in a blanket fresh out of the dryer . . . warm and fragrant and comforting. Your love feels like seeing the sweet and excited expression on the kids' faces the moment they realize it's Christmas morning. Your love feels like looking in my McDonald's sack and discovering that they gave me an extra order of fries. Your love feels like reaching into the pocket of an old, worn jacket and finding a twenty dollar bill. Your love feels like rushi...

I love you so very much. I would die for you. I would kill for you. I would crawl through miles of broken glass for you. My love for you has no end . . . it stretches out to eternity and it doesn't end there. My love for you is unconditional. No matter where you go in this world or what you do, it will always be there for you. I love you, but . . . if the thought of staying with me makes you feel trapped and uneasy and sick and awful, then let me go. I love you, but . . . if my ...

Every morning I nudge the sleeping boys curled up in my bed and tap their Star Wars underweared butts and say, "It's time to get up boys. C'mon. Let's go get dressed and get some breakfast." I pick the little one up and snuggle him in my arms as the big one runs off to the bathroom. "I'm still sweeping," the little one mutters as he flutters his long dark lashes and opens up his eyes. I rummage through their drawers, or sometimes through the dryer, and find a clean pair of undies and...

I'm crying. I can feel myself making the "sad Gizmo" face. I have tears in my eyes, tears on my face . . . my bottom lip keeps popping out. Today I am supposed to clean the battery cables on the car. I had to go all over the base to find club soda to use. Now I have a brush, gloves, club soda, pliers, and a flashlight. I popped open the hood and propped it open with the metal bar. I was crying even before that. I am scared to do this, and so I wanted to do it and be prou...

I'm an ass . . . I'll admit it. In fact, it's almost a term of endearment for me (and for those I care about, too . . . you know I like you when I call you an ass). But how do you know if you are an ass? Well, obviously, understanding ass-ness is like trying to tell a rainbow to stop being a rainbow. However, there are some clues . . . some guidelines . . . that can help you determine whether or not you might be an ass. 1. You laugh at the misfortune of others. You hee-ha...

Last night in bed my mind did the thing it usually does . . . it raced through all sorts of random thoughts and a review of the day's events. There, laying on my back with my seven year old's knee lodged in my ribs and my Hawaiian print comforter pulled up to my neck, I was hit with the realization of few things . . . I had not cried a single tear that day. Not one. I have cried and cried until my eyes have ached and my body shook. I have cried in the car, at the computer, on the ...