Happy birthday to the best Mom and Grammi in the WORLD!

We love you!!

Lies, lies, lies!

So I bought a new scale this weekend, because Alex enjoyed pressing the "beeper button" on my old one and sadly, it went to the curb in Friday's garbage takeout.

Anyway, this new scale is an asshole and tells out-and-out LIES. It gets the literal middle finger.

I suppose it's time to make friends with the treadmill again. More hair sweat is required.

You know, I have one simple request. And that is to have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads! Now evidently my cycloptic colleague informs me that that cannot be done.

Anyway, I promise I have a point here. As many a true drama queen would say...YOU GUISE! I HAVE BIG NEWS!

I recently took a big step in the world of being a grown up and also doing things I am afraid of and had my very first laser hair removal appointment. You know...down there.

Yes! I did it! And GUESS WHAT? It was fantastical! I saw ponies! And unicorns! And things on sale at MAC! (Ok, that never happens, but still. You see my point.)

I can't believe I didn't do this sooner. It will take 6 treatments to be totally swimsuit ready, but I seriously cannot wait. I will never have to have another godforsaken bikini wax ever in my entire life. Aaaand, I can take all of the people who ever gave me a bikini wax off my hit list and burn their voodoo dolls--it seems so cleansing! Why did I wait until I was freaking twenty freaking nine? Ugh. I will probably also feel the same way about Lasik once I am brave enough to do that. But baby steps, here.

In related news, I should also profess that I cannot be held responsible if you try this treatment and feel vast amounts of pain. I may or may not have consumed one of Joey's Tylenol 3s leftover from his shoulder surgery prior to being zapped with the laser. I plead the fifth.

Applause. More applause. Curtain call.

Some of you may or may not know that I have a bit of a theatrical past. The "theater bug" bit me when I was about 14--and I think I did well over 20 shows from that time until my freshman year in college. I've played many roles--from Cinderella to Grace Farrell to Dorothy to Tzeitel to Chava. Yeah, did that one twice. Every single show made a huge impact in my life, and nearly all of the friends I made along the way are still a very important and meaningful part of my life.

I try to make music an important part of Alex's life, too. We sing a lot of show tunes, nursery rhymes and silly songs that we make up as we go. Lately, we've been loving a lot on "Annie." Specifically, "Tomorrow."

Please sit down and turn on your pacemaker, because this is heart stopping cuteness. Also, ignore the first 30 seconds when he's trying to find his nipples (he got curious about what those were the other day, so I had to impart some honest Mom knowledge - a hilarious and awkward post for tomorrow perhaps) but stick around until the end when he really gets into it. I was clapping. I was crying. I was throwing roses at the stage. He's so my kid.

Yesterday, in pictures.

Hair sweat courtesy of nth Degree Fitness in Royal Oak. Also, I was parked when the above photos were so skillfully taken. I promise.

Best email, ever.

From: My Dad
Sent: Monday, January 23, 2012 11:14 AM
To: The whole family

You know you're having a bad day when you order a small coffee from McDonalds and when you go to pay, the worker at the window says, "Oh, you qualify for the cheaper, Senior Citizen coffee!"  I'm just saying...

____________________

And then I peed my pants. Obviously.

A variety show, of sorts.

Starring: my Middle Finger. I've been using it a lot lately, in many forms.

Curtain.

The Verbal Middle Finger
Implied by the tone of my voice. Used in various supermarket encounters with rude individuals and also on the phone recently with my health care provider.

The Facial Expression Middle Finger
This is a special form of the MF, exacerbated by my dark features and laser beam-capable eyes. This one is reserved for those people that still write checks in the supermarket line and Michiganians that always seem to forget how to drive come the first snowfall.

The Literal Middle Finger
Used during the January 12 episode of Grey's Anatomy. Extensively.

The Body Language Middle Finger
Also referred to as the cold shoulder, though the BLMF is a much more rare creature. This one is typically reserved for meetings during which I am annoyed and also when service providers (see also: stylist, manicurist, physicians) are running obscenely late for my scheduled appointment time.

The Incognito Middle Finger
This one marks some of my best work. I have honed these skills over many, many years. You wouldn't even know when I'm doing it because I'm overtly sweet, as if to cover up the fact that I want to tear your face off. See also: situations in which I cannot win.

End scene.

I think I have a lot of issues to work out.

For example...

Remember way back when when I posted about catching the crafting bug? Yeah, well, we can all kiss that fleeting nugget goodbye. It lasted a whopping two-point-five seconds.

I so desperately want to do moustache valentines (like this) for Alex. This particular craft would require a moustache prop of sorts, but what you must know first is that the moustache creation in and of itself is a craft. Moustaches just don't fall out of the sky. But if they did, that would be so rad, amirite?

I could have gone to Michaels, Target, or any other store on planet earth that sells things and purchased a nickel's worth of black felt and used my own hands and brain to construct a simple cut-out of any generic moustache shape. Probably something of the handle variety with a cute turn-up at the ends. But I digress.

Anyway, that was really just too hard. It gave me an actual headache just thinking about it.

So I bought these. Like, paid real money for them.

I'm actually embarassed to admit it. But there you have it.

Oh, also...Jackie...can you puh-puh-please design Alex's Valentines for me, too? I'm obviously incapable. I will pay you real money, too. Thankyouverymuch.

Out of order.

So I have really funny stories about my obsession with buying things for a house I don't technically own yet, but in order to do that I probably should tell y'all how this magical house came to be. I've alluded to it once or twice (sorry for being all annoying and unspecific about that) but I REALLY wanted to tell the story once I had some pictures. I've resigned to the fact that I will not have the ability to take a photo of my family on an empty lot that we sort of own in the foreseeable future, so I'm just going to throw caution to the wind and tell the tale. But everything is better with pictures, no?

Anyway, I'm sure you all remember back in late summer when we were urgently looking for a new house? Well, we were. We had been sort of lazily looking for some time previous to that particular life event, but put our efforts in super gear when we had a deadline of sorts.

Let me just say first that I LOVE where we live. We are 6 minutes from daycare, a block from the community center with an indoor water park, 2 minutes from both major highways in the area, and 20 minutes to nearly every other neighboring cool city. I may or may not have a strictly business crush on our mayor and because of the many large businesses in our city, taxes are wicked low. Our neighbors are like family--almost like something out of a movie. I even borrow eggs and cups of sugar from time to time.

There's not a ton of new construction or newer homes in our area because it's an older community. So, naturally, I got really discouraged when we started looking because in order for us to get what we wanted (and enough motivation to leave what we love) we would have to move to a nearby city with higher taxes (and a smaller house) or move to BFE to get a bigger house with lower taxes. Both of these options, frankly, sucked, and were not enough to actually force the move.

Anyway, I was driving around aimlessly one day because Alex was sleeping. I was basically just turning down streets I'd never been on--not looking for anything in particular, just passing time. I came across this sweet little street that was carved out of an older neighborhood, but was new construction. Then, in the same moment I saw a narwhal crossing the street with a pudgy baby unicorn on its back, my eyes surprised me by seeing TWO "For Sale" signs. One of the houses was perfect. I had to have it.

We went for a bike ride that night so I could show Joey. Oh, did I not mention this house was literally ACROSS the street from our house? Not our specific street, but the main street nearby. Anyway, he liked it too so I made an appointment with the seller's agent to see it the next day.

We saw it and loved it even more once we got inside. We were leaving for vacation the next day but told the Realtor we would talk about it on our trip and get back to him when we returned.

So imagine my surprise when he called me the next night with bad news. Someone else was putting an offer on the house. But the worst of the news is that there would be offers on both houses. And the offers were from FRIENDS who were friends/worked with someone who already lived in the house next to the two houses that were for sale. Yeah. Just our luck.

There was no way we were getting that house. Even if our offer was higher, the seller/builder was obviously motivated to sell BOTH houses at the same time, vs. selling us one and sitting on the other.

This story is getting so long I'm starting to annoy myself. But stick with me. We're almost to the end.

Naturally, it would suck a LOT if this story ended here, but it doesn't. As it turns out, our Realtor turned out to be childhood friends with the guy who owned the whole street. And there were 4 lots left! Eegads!

And so, we got our pick of the lots (as fate would have it - a better lot than the house we originally wanted) and we are going to build the same house we wanted to buy on that lot. And, since we're building it, we can change any of the little things that we want like flooring, fixtures, etc.

The ts are officially crossed. We signed all the paperwork just before Christmas and they will break ground as soon as the frost ban is lifted...which in Michigan is always iffy. Our hope is to be in by mid-July. At which point I will commence with an emotional life breakdown because I'll be leaving behind my first married home, the house I brought my baby home to and had so many other "firsts" in...but change is good, right?

Since a post this long deserves at least one picture, here's the house we're building. I'm changing that stupid wonky, little window on the second floor - doubling its size and centering it in the siding space. We might alter the brick color to be a bit darker and the siding to a slightly more grey (gray?) color, but this is basically home sweet home.

Tomorrow I shall commence with many ridiculous stories of things I am buying to decorate/furnish said house. Joey is about at his wits end with me. But he knows it's all pretty things that will make our house a home. And, in turn for his patience, he's getting one of those giant fish mailboxes. For reals. #wifeoftheyear

Home Sweet Home!

This is how I roll.

Literally.

Don't I wish! That's me in the Fiat 500 with the GUCCI interior at the North American International Auto Show. Yes, I do love my job. Most days, anyway. I also love that car, but it's very impractical for my incredibly lofty goals in life, which include becoming a raging, rampant soccer mom. Also, if Alex spilled his sippy cup juice on that buttah-like interior I would probably lose my shizz and pending Mother of the Year nomination, so we'll stick to the more family-friendly and more American Ford Edge, thankyouverylittle. But it is a hot little number, no?

I also made a new friend. We held hands like awkward 14 year-olds on a first movie date. He didn't try anything fresh on me, though, which was oddly disappointing.

I also took my VIP status to a new level by dancing with the Kia hamster like a total assmonkey in front of my boss, her boss, and basically the entire automotive industry. But I don't care. Because this? Should get me a promotion.

Click here to see the video. 

Picture this.

Remember a month or so ago when I posted these really awesome family pictures? And I talked raved about Holly and how I was basically so excited for her to officially launch her business so I could tell all you guys all about it? The time is heeeeeerrrrrrrrre!

Visit Holly Kathyrn Photography if you'd like to learn more! You might see some familiar faces around there...

For better or for worse, even sleep deprived.

So Joey has this...um...habit...of sleep screaming. Yes, you read that right. It doesn't happen a lot, but when it does, it's terrifying.

It used to happen with a recurring dream about spiders. The man is bat-shit terrified of spiders, y'all. He would be having some sort of REM-induced Charlotte's Web nightmare, only to jolt himself (and me!) out of a sound sleep by sitting straight up in bed and tearing at the air around him with vim and vigor to squash all the imaginary attack spiders. In our 4-and-some-change years of marriage, I have nearly crapped the bed and/or had a heart attack all dozen or so times this has happened.

The other night, he did it again for the first time in a long time. But instead of declaring war on imaginary spiders, he sat straight up and SCREAMED at the laundry basket next to our bed to "STAY RIGHT THERE!" Now, as I mentioned on Facebook, the laundry basket could have really been being an asshole for all I know. I was dead asleep. At least until he screamed me awake and my heart rate rose to a trillion BPM, causing me to not fall back asleep that evening and be very grumpalicious in the morning.

And then last night, the man I love more than anything on planet earth did. it. again. OMG. Two nights in a row with this. But apparently in last night's dream, our house was on fire. So he sat up straight in bed and started screaming "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT RIGHT NOW!"

Now, in the event of an actual fire in my home, I would hope he would do just a tidge more to get me and Alex out to safety, but I'll give him a pass since he was, in fact, sleeping when he was trying to save me from an imaginary flaming inferno with little to no actual escape plan.

I can't help but think all this night screaming means something. My initial thoughts tell me it means he needs to sleep on the couch so I'm not woken up by screams that literally make my heart beat out of my chest and make it impossible to fall back asleep. My secondary thoughts pretty much tell me the same thing.

I suppose it could be worse. I know a guy who used to sleep drive. Yes, this is true. Even I have strange sleep habits--I was a horrible sleepwalker when I was a kid. I tried to pee in the sink once, and another time I was at summer camp and walked (sleeping!) like 100 yards behind my cabin in the middle of the night. Yeah, that was creepy. Imagine waking up in the middle of a forest. Alone.

So, anyway, back to my original point. How can we get the sleep screaming to stop? Perhaps no more ice cream before bed...

Like I said.

I've tried telling Joey a bazillion times that I will not ever, under any circumstances, go camping. He tries to guilt me into warming to the idea, saying really stupid things like, "But Alex needs these life experiences!" or "It's a rite of passage for any young man!"

Joey's idea of "camping" is the real McCoy. Tents for sleeping. Holes in the ground for the loo. Food over flames for consuming. Showering in open bodies of water. You picking up what I'm throwing down?

I've been "real" camping two times in my life. Both of which are experiences I would like to forget to ensure my therapy costs can remain affordable. My Mom is about as outdoorsy as Kris Jenner (although she strangely does love to kayak) and my Dad couldn't pitch a tent if it came with Yogi Bear himself as an instructor. (And no, that's not a euphemism. Sickos.) To say we're not the camping type of family is the understatement of the century. And I'm perfectly fine with that.

Our skills lie in other areas of life, like making reservations for dinner and ensuring the hotel we're staying in has a pool. These are the things that are the true test of a rugged woman. Alex and Joey can go camping all they want in life, as long as they don't expect me to tag along. Instead, you can find me at the nearest indoor facility with air conditioning and snacks.

In summary: I might consider camping if somone buys me this glass. And I was kidding about the therapy. Maybe.

29 is NOT the new 30.

Newsflash: It's 2012. The year I will turn the dirty thirty. (In related news, everyone on earth is invited to come to Mexico with us for my birthday. Had originally considered Vega$, but then I decided 30 would be much better spent in an all-inclusive resort, drunk at the swim up bar vs. getting arrested in Vega$. Stay tuned for more info on that...and friends, start saving your pennies now!)

As I continue to age gracefully, I've been noticing all these strange things happening around me. Like, for instance, my hair is REALLY getting gray. I've been gray "patchy" since I was 13 (thanks for those genes, Dad), but have mostly gotten away with using Clairol Root Touch Up every couple months or so. But now? Holy hell. I'm about 2 months from becoming Helen Mirren.

Don't see it? Allow me to zoom in for you.

That's 2 weeks of growth. TWO. I'm about to go broke buying root touch up. Should anyone from Clairol be reading this particular rant, I'm wiiiiiiiiide open for sponsorship. Allow me to be your charity case.

Please also note the forehead wrinkles. I can't even discuss those right now.

In summary: I'm considering shaving my head. Or just going all Helen Mirren on you. I think I could rock both.

A Talicska Christmas.

We spent Christmas 2011 at my Mom and Dad's house. Kelli, David and Samuel were in town, so it was a very special Christmas with the whole family together. As a family, we had much to celebrate and be thankful for in 2011...and it was so special to have a few days to just all be together and eat and drink until my pants literally exploded off my body. This is a true story.

Pictured below is photographic evidence of what a Christmas tree looks like when 2 very spoiled loved grandchildren are involved (not that we didn't get spoiled, too...but Alex and Samuel took home the loot!)

And these were my two favorite faces all week:

 He kind of looks like a Gremlin in this picture,

but it was his "vroom!" face when he sat in his new
Lightning McQueen chair from Grammi and Poppi.

And here are the snuggle bugs playing with the HIT present of Christmas 2011 - Alex's new tool bench that Uncle Kyle MADE for him! You can even see how he burned "VW" into the corner of the top. It's seriously so cool. And who knew my brother was a woodsmith? Is woodsmith a word? Whatever.

This was one of my all-time favorite moments (please excuse my hot mess of a Christmas morning self):

And, of course, Grammi got in her fair share of snuggles and story time, too:

Pictured here is four generations from my mom's side of the family from when we visited my Great Aunt Theresa (my Grandmother's sister). She met Samuel for the first time!

Tomorrow's post will probably include a list of lies resolutions I'll be totally committed to for at least the next 3 weeks and then will likely abandon. However, I did say that the ONLY thing I wanted to do over break was organize my baking/catchall cupboard in the kitchen and I managed to haul through that at 9:00 last night. So, maybe there's something there, after all...

Until then, I'll leave you with another picture of the two sweetest cousins in existence. They're holding my Mom's ceramic baby Jesus.

"Happy birthday, baby Jesus!"