Cowboy Up Birthday Style.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY. The last three weeks of my life have severely lowered my IQ. Not because of the company I've spent or the activities enjoyed, but because of the sheer insanity/exhaustion/sleep deprivation of it all. But I can't get off track. I'm here to blog about Jason's birthday. And that's it. You'll have to wait for the ten other posts I've got floating around in my mind to come to fruition.

A sneak peak of what those upcoming posts include:

-Our week long family retreat with Jason's side to the Oregon coast.

-Lucia's 4th birthday celebration

-Our 4 day family reunion with my side of the fam at the Heber Valley Campsite

-Isla's blessing

-Lots of other shenanigans that have taken place at our house

Since all the hoorah has settled a bit, (the last two days) there have only been three items of business on my agenda. I've been trying to publish this blog post, I've been trying to keep my kids safe and happy, and I've been trying to get the upper hand in my relationship with the laundry in my house. Just those three things. That's it. Seems relatively doable, right? What you don't know is that the laundry is totally out of control. I came home from Oregon, threw everything in the wash (like 4 loads), folded none, and packed up for Heber. Came home from Heber and threw everything in the wash again, folded none, and here I am. If I turn up missing, and there are ads in the paper and on the internet about the search going on for me, please tell my husband to look underneath the many piles of clothing in my house. Might be history's first case of drowning in clothing, but I'm telling you now what might very well be the end of me. Maybe you're reading this thinking I'm being a little funny, maybe you think I'm exaggerating. But it will chill you to the bone when it really happens. And you'll all regret being so mean to me and bullying me so much. Well alright, none of you have really been mean to me or bullied me lately (I say lately because the years of abuse at the hand of my baby sister Vanessa come to mind). But you might regret not telling me you love me and the things you adore about me. So I guess I'll expect texts, calls and many messages of love over the next several hours.

Ahem. Back on track. Jason's birthday. Let me tell you something about that dear sweet fine man I married. If he ever got a tattoo, besides one saying "mom" and one saying "Meradith", I'm pretty sure it would say, "If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself". He can be a bit controlling. But only with selected things. I mean, I'm sure most of us are in one way or another. But he is in interesting ways: He has an unbelievably difficult time sitting through a meeting of any kind unless he is directing it and moving the agenda along, and when it comes to his birthday celebration. Bottom line: HE WANTS HIS BIRTHDAY DONE RIGHT. You can imagine my surprise when I married him to discover that he preferred throwing himself his own birthday parties. And every year it's been the same, treat the whole family and a bunch of friends to Seven Peaks Water park. I've always thought it a bit strange, but everyone has always enjoyed themselves and Jason's been happy. And whenever I mentioned something like, "Maybe we could do something different for your special day, and maybe I could plan something for you instead," he would rebuke me with talk of breaking tradition. HOWEVER. I knew most of the problem was actually handing over the reins to someone else to be in charge of his special day. Yes people, he is that large-and-in-charge.

Turns out they came out with the pass of all summer passes which gives you a summer pass to a bunch of different fun places around town for dirt cheap. And seven peaks has become increasingly more zooish, even though we still have lots of love for the place. But a very special, very monumental thing occurred last year on his birthday. Jason had just emerged from the wave pool where he had been dunked under the water several times by hoards of 7 years olds, and in exhaustion, he turned to me and uttered words I'll never forget. "I don't wanna do seven peaks again next year for my birthday. I wanna. do. something. different." It was as if they came out in slow motion. The theme from Chariots of Fire began. We locked eyes for several long moments after that utterance, the telepathic communication passing between us in a blurred frenzy. And I knew what he meant. I knew that he knew that I knew what he was saying. And he knew that I knew that he knew that I knew just exactly what was going down in that moment. He was relinquishing the birthday reins to me. It was as if a light from heaven shone down upon me. It was as if I had been the one to pull Excalibur from the unrelenting stone. It was as if I had been the only soul in history to live through the killing curse and had been left with a lightning shaped scar above my brow. I was the chosen one. He was giving the charge to ME.

I left Seven Peaks that day renewed with strength and courage. I faced the future not with fear, but with hope and determination. He believed in me. A couple months later we discovered we were awaiting another baby. And that baby would grace us with its presence a mere 6 weeks prior to Jason's birthday. I was yet undeterred. Whatever obstacle would come, I knew I would have to overcome and live up to my calling. Or we would be swimming in little children's vomit and getting wedgies on water slides every single June 21st for the rest of our existence. This was my only chance.

I began seriously planning in March of 2012. I got his work involved and figured we better go big or go home. I kept every little detail from him. And as the date approached, I'm ashamed to admit that his confidence in me began to waver. He began asking me if I had anything planned and what it was if I did. Like every. other. day. And I would act like I had forgotten every time, and say "Oh yeah, that's coming up isn't it?" and then casually tell him not to worry about it, that we'd do something "fun". This response proved to be very unsatisfying for my beau. In fact, I could see it was killing him. I could see the madness creeping into his eyes and veins pulsating in his neck and forehead every time we would touch on the subject. In an effort to further throw him off the scent, (an idea given by his gracious sister Cathy), a mere 2 weeks prior to his birthday I asked him how he felt about getting a group of friends and family together to go to the Cheesecake Factory for his birthday dinner. Most people would consider that a great birthday destination. But I knew my husband would not. The conversation ensued exactly how I had hoped it would. I texted him that idea while he was at work and got no response. So I sat back and waited, laughing maniacally. When he walked through the door, he put his things down on the counter, and in a matter-of-fact tone of voice said, Yeah, I'm gonna have to say no to the Cheesecake Factory, with an enthusiastic thumbs down. I pretended to be surprised. Me: Why, honey? you love the Cheesecake Factory. Jason: It's just that we go there for normal occasions. We go there for dinner just for fun. It's just not anywhere that special. At this point I felt the blood rushing up into my face over embarrassment for his hugeness. I told him casually, "Okay, that's fine, I'll figure something out," only to be met with the following, in a disturbed and annoyed tone: Jason: You really don't have anything planned yet?? Seriously, just let me plan it. I mean, Seven Peaks would be better than a dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. I'll just do it. Me: Honey, no, we'll do something fun, don't worry about it.

Convos similar took place between us with more and more frequency as the big day came closer, until I actually had to sternly tell him not to say ONE more word to be about his birthday. I told him he was micromanaging me to the hilt and that I couldn't handle it any longer. So he backed off. But I still pretended like I didn't really know what I was going to throw together at the last minute. But more than anything, I was really tired of this huge secret I was keeping, tired of looking over my shoulder every time I made phone call or sent a text, tired of going back through my text conversations and erasing all evidence. I was ready to get on with this party. I was ready for the burden of secrecy to be lifted from our marriage. But that's when it hit me: I'd make a superb adulteress. Just kidding. But still. Hiding this party from him was starting to canker my soul a bit. Because I inevitably had to lie about some details surrounding the party. And I'd lay there in bed at night while he slept, so naive and unknowing. And I would cry bitter tears of sorrow for the secret. I guess I am just that pure, people.

So the big day arrived. I took him to work that morning and gave no explanation as to why he was not permitted to have a vehicle. I took my little girls up to their Grandparents as soon as I'd dropped him off, and bustled around town all day making final preparations. And all was set. I picked him up around 3. I took him shopping. Because he's lost about 20 pounds in the past few months and was walking around telling me how baggy his clothes were. So we shopped. I gave him undivided attention and did not even glance at the women's or baby sections. Which is a first for me. And he was happy. Then we went and got shaved ice. A favorite summer tradition we share. Then I dropped him off at a 75 minute full body massage. I pretended like I was going to be sitting in the lobby waiting for him, and as soon as I knew he was safely underneath his towel, I beat it out of there like a bat outta hell. I went home to a house of people bustling around getting things ready, and I changed clothes, nursed baby, and headed back to pick him up. I sat in the lobby for 15 minutes or so when the masseuse came out and said to me in a whisper, "So, do you have anything fun planned for the evening? Because I can sortof tell he's having a hard time with turning 40. I mean, it's a big birthday." Me: OH my GOSH Nicole, I have a mechanical bull and 50 or so of his family, co-workers and best friends at my house right now waiting for us." She was tickled pink and was whisper yelling in excitement.

*Later when I told Jason of what our dear massage therapist Nicole said, he vehemently denied having any hard time turning 40 whatsoever. And truth be told, he snagged a little philly 11 years younger than him who pops out beautiful babies for him, he has a full head of hair and great guns for the gun show so hey, why would he? All his words, of course.*

We got into the car, I blindfolded him immediately, and drove all around town so he wouldn't know we were going home. I wanted it to really feel like a kidnapping, so I couldn't resist clubbing him a few times in the face while we were at it. Just kidding. I'll let the video clip and pictures take the story from here on out.

  

  

It is just me or am I morphing into the Incredible Hulk in this picture??

There are way too many pictures for this post. We got great shots of so many people riding their 8 seconds and getting bucked off across the yard and some even getting gored. (That was an unfortunate bonus of getting that quality of mechanical bull that we hadn't anticipated.) I decided to do a western theme not because Jason has a secret fetish for being a cowboy, but because he loves costuming of any kind. And because I have a secret fetish for him being a cowboy. And now we have all the get-up for whenever he fancies another cowboy dress up. :)

And there you have it folks. Never doubt me again Jason. Never! 

Happy Birthday to the man I adore. You're only getting better with the years. 

14 minutes of my life I never want to relive. And some other stuff too.

One of the most depressing things about summer is the fact that it is so jam packed with stuff that it makes it completely fly by. I wish I could just sit on my patio out back from about April til October and stare at the leaves on my glorious trees and watch them subtly change day after day. Maybe it would go by a bit slower.

The month of June was a complete blur. Celebrating Father's Day and Jason's birthday in the same week almost put me into a coma. We spent 4 days in Nashville as well. But more on that in a minute! I have to tell you an awful story. When it happened the cop told me it happens all the time so maybe this has happened to some of you.

I'll rephrase that, an awful story with a happy ending. So don't let me scare you. So last week my mother came down to stay with our two little girls while Jason, Isla and I went to Nashville. We came home on Sunday and went to my Uncle's wedding on Tuesday so spent the day Monday running errands. We pull up to Winco, mother dear and I get out of the car and start unloading the girls. I help Scarlett get her shoes on, walk her around to the other side of the car where my mom already has Lucy and let her join her sister in Grammy's shopping cart. I turn around to get Isla out and the car doors are locked. I suddenly can't find my car keys. Pat down my body, empty my purse searching and a sick sinking feeling of complete panic quickly sets in. It's 90 degrees outside. Isla is locked inside a black denali baking in the sun along with the keys. I tell my mom, still searching for my keys, "Mom we have to call someone." She tells me to call 911. I immediately call and have things relatively under control until I the second I tell the dispatcher, "I've locked my keys in my car and there's an infant locked in there, too." I burst into tears. I spend the next 10 minutes pacing back and forth next to the car in complete hysterics trying to open the door over and over as if one of these times it's going to magically be unlocked. LONGEST 10 minutes of my entire life. I can't write this out or talk about it without crying again. I had no way of knowing how hot the car was getting inside. I couldn't see her either, because she was covered by a car seat cover. I was searching for something to put through the window but the only thing there was a shopping cart. Contemplated trying to put it through the windshield over and over again. I was having a total breakdown praying constantly in my head to Father in Heaven. And I did feel an underlying sense of peace that things would be okay. But still I had a really hard time keeping it even remotely together. My mom was just standing there with the other girls in her cart, trying to calm me down and though she was crying too she kept telling me help is almost here Mera. But I'm not kidding, I couldn't really hear her. Strangers came and asked if they could help, there was one whose husband was a locksmith and she was on the phone with him trying to get him there. The police officer along with paramedics showed up actually pretty quickly in hindsight. But it felt so long. I watched the cop wedge in through the window with a long wire and watched through the opposite window as he tried over and over to push the unlock button only to watch the end of the wire slide off of it over and over. I told him to bust the window in. I felt pure and complete insanity setting in. Honestly. When he finally was able to unlock the car, I bolted over and inside and yanked that perfectly-at-peace snoozing babe out of that car seat so fast. She wasn't sweaty at all. She wasn't even mildly distressed. The car was hot but felt much cooler inside than I had built it up in my mind. Poor itty girl was jolted out of a perfectly comfortable nap and obviously had no idea what was happening. I just stood there still crying my eyes out holding her while the officer told me we did the right thing to call right away and then he tried to give me suggestions I could do for if this ever happens again. But he might as well have been speaking Chinese. I seriously stood there looking at him and could not make out a single word he was saying to me. He gave me a good pat on the back and told me to take a deep breath and that everything was just fine. I do remember him saying that.

The panic I had felt turned into debilitating nausea at that point, and I had to go into the bathroom in Winco and dry heave for a good 10 times. The paramedics (thankfully) weren't needed and so they decided to head on inside and get some shopping done as well, which for some strange reason brought humor into the whole thing for me. I couldn't really smile just yet, but I knew I felt amused by it somewhere deep inside my psyche. I think it was the nonchalance of all of us doing something like grocery shopping immediately after I had almost put my head through my car window in a hysterical fit. We kept inadvertently crossing paths with them and my mom would thank them and I'm not sure why but I couldn't really say anything. I would just stand there with my big swollen puffy eyes and make-up smeared all over my face and look shifty eyed around like a serious mental case. And then I continued to cry the rest of our time at Winco. And then when we went home I took Isla into my bedroom, closed the door, and we both collapsed into a serious narcoleptic nap for a good hour.

I couldn't figure out why the car doors had locked, and it was really chapping me because nothing like this had ever happened before. But later that day we realized that my mom had Lucy's shoes up in the front seat with her and once I helped Lucy get unbuckled and started getting Scarlett out, Lucy had crawled up to my mom in the front through the middle console of the car. She loves pushing buttons. (I mean, it is fun isn't it??) And she had casually pushed the lock-all-doors button before hopping out with Grammy. I gave her rear end a good sound paddling several hours later when we realized all this. Oh my gosh, kidding! But I did do it in my mind.

So the wisdom I learned from all of this is to call 911 immediately if this ever happens. Especially in the summer. Don't mess around. And not to let your little kids climb out of the driver side or passenger side of the car. And that paramedics need their eggs and milk, too. And if you see them at the grocery store, hi-five them when you walk past them. You don't even need to say anything or make eye contact, just hold your hand up and give a good solid hi-five.

Phew. Okay, onward onto lighter and fluffier stuff. Back to our crazy June. Jason and I went to a surprise party of a good friend of ours Kacy, and her husband happened to arrange a flash mob to Bon Jovi's "You give love a bad name". It was a dream come true to be a part of. So fun. And here are a couple shots we got from the photo booth they had set up. Scarlett saw these and asked if Jason was Grandpa (Jason's dad). So, Grandpa, if you're reading this, now you know what you look like through the eyes of a 2 year old.

 We also saved two baby hawks that had fallen from a high nest in our trees. We have raccoons and all sorts of varmints back there in them woods, so really, we did save their lives! Aren't they adorable?! Coolest thing ever. Turned them over to wildlife rescue and heard they're doing just fine. The girls cried saying goodbye. 

 Our snap peas have been Scarlett's favorite this year. And there's a strict, "you can only garden in your underwear or a diaper" rule enforced at our house. The neighbors love it.

We took the babies to strawberry days in pleasant grove for a day. They loved every second. But Lucy thought I was pretty lame for freaking out when she started rocking the seat on the ferris wheel. Look at the condescension in her eyes.

Father's Day began like this:

Jason was gifted a new karaoke machine. And this clip is what goes on anywhere from 7 to 35 times a day in our house:
 

Later that week we celebrated Jason's birthday. But I'm still waiting to get pictures back from that, and it definitely deserves it's very own post. So stay tuned, it's coming soon!

Isla is now 2 months old. What??? Yes it's true. I guess I have to stop counting her age by weeks now. She owns my heart.

I still like her sisters too though. And they love her.

So, the annual SDM 100 gala brought us to Nashville. (Jason's work related.) And it was 1940's themed! So fun! 

Except only like 4 couples dressed up out of an entire ballroom full of those old stiffs. They think mormons don't know how to have fun?! Oh, we know. No, we didn't get all inebriated so we could really get down and jump, jive and wail with a bunch of strangers, but we did dress in theme, which, as everybody knows is where all the fun really is. Actually you know I don't need any liquorin' up to jump, jive and wail, but I do need to be kid free. And Isla accompanied us. So I remained a proper lady throughout the event. And that was that.

 I won't tell you about how when the whole place was dead silent listening to the MC welcome everyone to the event how Jason pulled Isla out of her car seat and totally mashed her head on the bar of her seat and sent her into a wailing fit. I won't tell you how I awkwardly scurried out of there all flushed and sweaty with every eye on me, everyone in their black tie attire thinking, Someone brought a baby to this?!? I won't tell you how there was nowhere to nurse so I had to go sit in a bathroom stall cursing my husband's name. I won't tell you about how 99% of everyone I spoke to only has 1 or 2 kids at most and if they do have 2, they are like 7 years apart. And I won't tell you how then I'd tell them we have three that came at a rapid fire pace, and we want more, how their eyes bugged out of their heads. I won't tell you how a whole group of them started singing zero population is the answer my friend and danced in perfect choreography whilst singing and how I grabbed the lead singer's glass of champagne and splashed it into his face and ran out crying. I won't tell you all of that.

No, people were really nice about it and if they were looking down us for bringing a baby, we couldn't tell. At least not with most of them. After she had her fit at the beginning she was an absolute jewel the remainder of the evening, and got oohed and ahhed over a whole lot.

The next night we went to the Grand Ole Opry. And I loved every second of the show. I wish I was a country singer. Bad.

  Nashville is such a cool city. It was my first time and we stayed right downtown. Live music around the clock everywhere you go. Everyone was so nice. That Southern hospitality gets me every time! We went to eat dinner at this place and I think the waitress there was one of my favorite people ever. She was a little feisty black lady who kept calling Jason baby. He ate it right up. And of course spoke to her in a southern accent all night without realizing he was. The best thing she said was when she was clearing our plates, "Y'all did real good. Out of 'bout 50 percent, I'd say y'all ate about 25-35 percent of y'alls food". No one knows why 50% really meant all of our food, but we went with it and loved her so much, heck, she's comin' out for Christmas this year! 

Thank you for taking care of our kids mommy. You are the greatest Grammy. And the get-away was so excellent for Jason and me.

Another current happening in our home: potty training. 

 We're actually sortof trying not to potty train yet because I'm not really ready to commit to the energy it requires, but she's so dang thrilled with sitting on the pot that it's hard not to let her. I hope it's always this exciting for her.

And lastly, I'll add on our 4th of July celebration. I'm sorry this is like 8 blogposts in 1 but I have to do what I can. Finding the time for this is becoming more sparse in my life, and so far this morning I've already consented to let my children tear the house down room by room so I can sit here and I don't know when I'll feel so giving again.

Independence Day began with seeing this handsome mug on the TV. Good morning Utah did a little ditty on Coney's along with a hotdog eating contest. So that was fun. Isn't he cute? I have the biggest crush. Seriously the way he's holding that microphone and looking all professional anchorish. Who am I kidding? You know I mean that fine piece in the wee little apron. I think my favorite thing that he said while on air was, The Sonoran dog is a fiesta for your tastebuds. I couldn't agree with you more honey.

Our neighbor and friend Kacy (flash-mob Kacy is how she will forever be known on this blog henceforth) gave us these ridiculously adorable dresses when Isla was born. My heart might burst out of my chest. Little girls are my very favorite. At least until we have a little boy, and then maybe I'll like boys as much. But for now, no question. These dresses! Scream out loud if you must. Go ahead. Scream bloody murder, wherever you are right this very second.

 I was lame and stayed home while Jason took the two older girls to the parade in the morning. But being out in the hot sun with a newbie is no fun. They get all fiery hot with anger and want to be held, which only intensifies the sweaty mess. I stayed home and snuggled Isla in the AC of our home, so I don't feel so lame. I just mostly felt happy. Scarlett and Lucy are mystified by parades as of late. Love this shot hubby got.

  And there you have it folks. There are more things I could tell you with what's going on in our family but my goal in beginning this blog post was to have it a few lines shorter than Les Miserables, the novel. So I have to end here if I want to keep my goal.

Back to not so light and fluffy: I'm so grateful for our little family and every day that ends with my children and husband safely tucked into bed is accompanied by an outpouring of thanks to Father in Heaven from me. I know that He is aware of me and mine. Little things like the simple push of a button that locks all the car doors make you think. A lot. I'll try not to let that turn me into a paranoid mess for the rest of my days. I guess this is a wrap then. I bet if this here blog post is about 50%, y'all probably actually read 'bout 25-35%. Y'all did reeeeal good. Thanks for tuning in.

Summa Summa Summa ta-eeme.

Wanna know what's really sad? I only posted 16 days ago but I started to type in my blog address into the my browser and it didn't automatically pull it up! I had to type in every last letter of my own blog. I don't think that's ever happened! Guess I haven't been back to this blog since the day I posted but really, 16 days of absence will do that?! That's never happened before! 

So, if you've been exerting a lot of mental energy trying to remember exactly how many weeks old our newest addition is; if you've been pacing in your house trying to count the weeks on your fingers and getting all mixed up about it in the process, I will put that to rest right now. Isla is 6 weeks old.

We try to take advantage of the newbie stage and go to movies when we can get sitters for the older sisters because their just so portable. She loved The Avengers. But last night we snuck Isla in again to the theater and it was not a pleasant experience. How is she already past the sleep through any and everything stage? I wanted to cry. Plus, Snow White and the Huntsman is such a peaceful movie. We thought it would really soothe her. Just kidding. 

*Snow white and the Huntsman was... It was.. I don't know. I have lots of opinion about it but I don't want to spoil it for anyone so I'll wait to divulge. I'm a closet lover of fantasy/magical/mythical movies. So I was stoked about this one. But I decided that I'm not Kristen Stewart's biggest fan and that Chris Hemsworth is much hotter as the norse god of thunder than he is as a huntsman.  I wanted to have as big of a crush on him as I did the last movie I saw with him. But it just wasn't happening. So I'm pretty much over him altogether. And those two (Stewart and Hemsworth) have zero chemistry, Really, zero. I'll write more on that after I give a few more of you a chance to see it if you want to. If you don't want to see it, call me and I'll tell you everything I liked and didn't like from A to Z.*

Okay back on track. Isla. She is emerging from her newborn cacoon and I hate it but she also slept for 6 hours straight last night so I love it too. She's an absolute dream. We love each other a lot, she and I. Look how alert and non newbie she looks. She's even starting to half smile.

Ok she still looks pretty new in this one. I have to look at her snoozing whenever I'm about to threaten to ground her for not doing her chores. Sweet angel. I swoon.

One thing I forget about every round of new baby is my nursing appetite. I'm stuffing my face left and right my entire pregnancy with whatever I can get my mitts on and I have all these big plans for as soon as I pop this puppy of how controlled and disciplined I will be. But I always forget how I'm the exact same when I'm nursing. I'm always like, "What is going on with me?! Why am I eating so much?" And of course I'm way more sensitive about it once the child is out of me. It's like when I'm big and pregnant I know there's a human being inside and so all the weigh gain is fine and dandy. And then the minute I'm home from the hospital I step onto the scale and am so alarmed and it's likeI don't know what's going on anymore. I have tried several times to put on my small jeans during these past 6 weeks and I immediately think, "Uh oh! these must have severely shrunk in the dryer! Dang it!" I need more patience with myself to get back to normal. I'm not an obsessor at all about weight. I just keep forgetting I had a baby not too long ago. True amnesia. 

Speaking of getting back to normal, I hope no one thinks that just because Isla is 6 weeks old that I should start getting ready for the day and go to the gym and volunteering for service projects and stuff. Because in reality it takes me about 6+ months to get back to "normal". Whatever normal means.

Jason is on a really strict no junk/sugar eating plan right now. And he's working out like a fool. He's looking fabulous. He started this regimen when I was 38 weeks pregnant. Marriage is such a funny thing. Funny haha and funny strange sometimes. We went and picked up take-out food the other day with our friends Julie and Merv (Good earth- see? He's serious about health food) and went to a park to have a picnic. And I got a rice bowl and he got a turkey avo wrap. But mine wasn't very good and his wrap looked a lot better. (This is a usual routine for us. His always looks better.) But I know better than to ask him to share his food with me because when he is eating so disciplined and he finds something healthy he really enjoys (which he does this wrap), you had better keep your hands to yourself if you don't want to lose a finger. Well, there we were sitting merrily at the park with some of our favorite people on earth watching our girls play. He ate most of his wrap, put the last few bites back into the to-go box it came in along with his crumpled up napkin and then he left our blanket and went to chase the girls around the park playground. I have to emphasize crumpled up napkin because had it not been thrown into the container with the last few bites of his food, I never would have dared to poach. But obviously, as anyone would, I suspected he was finished. So not wanting to waste food, I reached over and snagged the last couple of bites of his wrap while he was playing with the girls. Julie and I were sitting there solving the worlds problems wrapped up in riveting conversation and my rice bowl was lacking serious sodium, so I ate the rest of his wrap when I assumed he didn't want anymore. So sue me. 

Except then he came back to rejoin us on the blanket and I spied him out of the corner of my eye grab his box and open it back up to apparently finish his wrap. And I started to panic. Beads of sweat broke out onto my forehead and back. One he looked down and realized what had happened, the smoke started shooting from his ears and horns emerged from his forehead.  He was fuming! Seriously angry. And he was like, "Do I have to say 123 save for me?! Every time I leave my food unattended around you?!" which was harsh but understandable if he was really looking forward to finishing up his delicious wrap when he sat back down. And there I sat (me and my nursing appetite and my post baby love handles), being scolded by my husband, with the sauce from his wrap smeared all over my chin, looking guilty and shifty eyed back and forth between him, Julie and Mervis. It was awkward. And embarrassing. And I almost started to cry. And then the hurt feelings turned into rage in a matter of 1.7 seconds, which happens to me 99.9% of the time I have hurt feelings. Usually at this point I will start spewing ridiculousness like, "Do you know how many guys would LOVE to share their turkey-avo wrap with me?" (Umm yeah I'm pretty sure you have to put your name on a waiting list to let a mother of three hoover some of your food) or, "Remember how much upper hand I had when we started dating?! Don't you forget it!" which is about as effective as a mother of teenage daughters listening in on her daughters' conversation about boys and coming in to say, "Ya know, it wasn't that long ago that I was a teenie bopper myself. And boy, was I hot-to-trot."

In fact, indulge me here. Let's just revel for a moment in those days when I had the upper hand. Back when I didn't have to share any hand because I was footloose and fancy free mission bound. When he used to share food with me. Those were the days. Oh man if I could just go back. I'd take state.

 This must have been, "Take your kid sister's little-filly-of-a-roommate to work day".

However. Instead of starting to ramble something laughable like that, I thought I would start trying to light heartedly joke around about how awesome marriage is when it morphs into a brother/sister relationship. Because brothers and sisters fight all the time over food. And imagining Jason being so upset with me for having a few bites of his food while he was courting me and how I would have thought he was a rageaholic weirdy and probably would have ended it. I was imagining us on our second or third date sitting across from each other flirting and having a getting-to-know-you conversation at Olive Garden or something and right after he tells me his greatest flaw is probably spending too much time doing volunteer work, I reach across and say, "Oooh that looks good! Can I try it?" and I snag a bite of his pasta. And then his eyes suddenly start glowing red and he's like, "What the @#$% was that?! What the @#$% did you just do?!?! Do NOT eat MY FOOD, do you understand?? You order what you want, and I'll order what I want. You don't see me eating your food do you? DO YOU!??!" and I'd be sitting there all quivering and terrified and there'd be a real awkward moment of silence and then he'd be all, "So, what's one of your greatest life goals?" So I was painting this picture for all of us sitting there on our blanket and Julie and Mervis were laughing and I was fake laughing but really secretly annoyed and Jason wasn't fake laughing at all. He was just sitting there like Cold Stone Steve Austin... And I continued, "I mean, can you imagine reacting like that to someone you were dating?! Oh man! Barrel of laughs!" And then he said, "We. are. not. dating." And then stood up to go play with the girls some more. Except as he was walking away, I stuck my foot out and tripped him, causing him to fall flat on his face. Then he pinned me down onto my back, holding my arms down and hawked a loogie and suspended it from his mouth in mid-air threatening to let it fall onto my face.  And I screamed and kicked and flailed trying to buck him off of me, calling him bad names and yelling, "You're so dead! I'm so telling Dad!!!" and that was that. 

I'll let you decide when that story went from fact over to embellishment. See how fun reading my blog is? It's basically a choose your own adventure book. You get to decide what's reality and what's in my mind. (Hint: first 80% of story is reality. Will you share your turkey-avo wrap with me?) 

Ahem. Anyway, our summer so far is full of lots of great things. Like sporting the outfits Grandma brought us home from China: 

 -and terrorizing our baby sister whenever and wherever possible: 

(Let's take a closer look at Isla's little face when she bathes and hears her sisters voices in very close proximity:)

I think she hears the music from jaws whenever Lucy's hand sneaks in there.

-And collecting roley-poley bugs in flower beds over taken by weeds:

-And collecting snakes in the woods behind our house:

                                                      -And riding ponies:

 -And posing for a photo shoot first thing in the morning with the world's greatest bed head:

 -And lots of diaper changing: (Lots and lots and lots of diapers. Everywhere I turn. Thank goodness I have some help from my 3 year old.) 

 So far, this summer is treating us quite excellently. Stay tuned. Xoxo. XXxxOxOO. (big kiss, little hug, little kiss, little hug. Big kiss, big kiss, little kiss, little kiss, big hug, little kiss, big hug, big hug.)