Hi Again!

So anyone who's followed us on Facebook or been in touch with us recently is aware we recently brushed very close to death. I had a brain bleed near-on a month ago that could have taken me out, but thanks to Providential Goodness I'm still here to over-mother my children and mother my spouse.

Since we did a Caring Bridge site to walk everyone through that ordeal, and since it seems a fitting time to close that page down, I thought perhaps now would be a good time to start up our family blog. Especially because, after all, we began this thing to share about our buttheads and talk about babies. And we're gunna have another baby. Let's do this!

So for now I'll say "Hello World!" again (particularly Tam? Kate? Beth? I think you're the only people who check here regularly). It's good to be here.

Nicole

Postscript.

Josh says SBC means "Seattle's Best Cheese".

:)

SBC.

No, I don't mean Seattle's Best Coffee, now owned by the illustrious and esteemed Starbucks Corporation. Although I forgive you for thinking so, given who's speaking here.

No. SBC means something totally different. And totally awesome.

But before I share with you, I must first implore your sympathy. See, I have this terrible habit of calling my children horrid names. Like, names other people wouldn't even think of attributing to their children. Or even their dogs. Names that have absolutely nothing to do with them, aside from the fact they may indeed own a vagina. (Or not.) And just when I start to feel guilty about this terrible habit of mine, I recall that my own mother had a few good ones up her sleeve too. (Eh heh. It took me some years to realize that "dildo brain" was not something I should call my friends.)

This apple didn't fall far, but when she fell? She rotted.

Okay. So. You're now properly warmed up for being introduced to my precious daughter's nickname, the name I call her most and the name by which many of my closest friends refer to her. I'll give you a quick hint... it's shortened version is "Cheese". Appropriate also because cheese is her favorite food. Inappropriate for so many other reasons.

Violet the ...Cheese

Ready? ...

...

...

...

Still there? (Just checking...)

...

...

...

SBC = Stinky Butt Cheese.

Stinky. Butt. Cheese.

Yes friends. I named my daughter after excrement. Dat's love, raught thar.

For those of you not on Facebook...

Sunday, May 22nd:

Instead of just asking if he could sleep in our bed tonight, Tiny Man gave me an extensive lecture on how his room, bed and floor were all too warm to be properly slept in and that he needed somewhere cool, comfortable and partially populated in which to sleep. No other accommodations were adequate. My life flashed before my eyes as I realized, to my chagrin, that I may pay for law school after all.

Wylet's New Bike!

The neighbor gal growed up a little and got a nice big girl bike in reward. Happily we collect her cast-offs from time to time, so when her daddy came over with a purty pink and purple tricycle for Wylet, we were excited! We've had her on a trike borrowed from her cousin that's just theeeeeeeees much too big for her, so the subtle difference in axle-placement and seat depth in the new one was just enough to make a world of difference.

Wylet is a biking maniac now. Almost as much as her big brother!

On blogging. Etc.

I find blogging to be super fun and totally cathartic because it harmlessly enables my complete inability to shut the hell up. Talk talk talk! It's like...I HAVE TO if I want you to come back and read about my rotten children and their current antics. Or, more likely, something about ME...which seems like the only thing I'm capable of putting on this thing these days.

So, some words on my CHILDREN -- Wilson is a little boy. No, I'm not kidding, I'm entirely serious, he's officially not a toddler or baby or waddler or anything like that. He's just...boy. I don't really like it, actually, because I am entirely against this whole 'growing up' thing. But he's pretty fun, and pretty cool, and if I *had* to have a baby grow into a little boy, I guess he's doing as good a job of it as anyone.

And Violet? Pweez. She's a girl. No, I'm still serious, a real little girl. As in, a girl who DOESN'T WEAR PULL-UPs but wears freakin' big girl underwear. I am *really* not happy about that, given that she's my baby and I don't currently have any other babies to take her place as she moves on (friends, guard your babies...) Boo. My kids are growing up and I'm sick to death about it.

Happily, Josh has been very proactive about putting together our family videos in DVDs! Today I watched one of Violet as a tiny infant, and Wilson as a 19 month old little guy who could barely talk. What a special time that was in our lives, and so fleeting. How thrilled we are to have these precious things saved on video. Friends? Tape your kids. Tape yourselves, your lives, your loved ones. Time moves too quickly, especially when we're busy trying to raise the wretched things, for us to capture the meaningful moments as they're happening. We only really appreciate them later when we see them again because, in the moment, we aren't aware that the best time of our lives is now.

Okay, that is all. When my computer (busted) gets fixed (in a week) I'll upload some new pics so you can see what my babies have grown into. Kids!

The F Word.

It's Finals Week, which means my hair is dirty. So is my house. We have no findable clean laundry (it's buried in piles) and we eat no meals planned ahead by more than 8 minutes or so. But every 12 weeks we go through this ritual, and still somehow we pull through, stay fed and stay married.

This quarter wasn't nearly as taxing as the last, although I always find myself more intense about stuff than I plan to be. Sometimes just letting go can be a challenge. But as I like to say, and by which I would like to live better: "Done is better than perfect."

Two exams are done. Two left to go. By this time tomorrow, I hope to be a free woman.

Aside from the bonds of laundry, that is...