I don't even know what an erosion tarp is.

However, when we got an email from our Realtor last night telling us they put the erosion tarps on our property, I nearly peed myself. I've never been so excited about something I knew absolutely nothing about.

We took a little drive, and much to my surprise, this is what erosion tarps are:

They are small and weird and cute and I love them so much...because they are the first step in the actual build process. Hopefully there will be a giant hole there (that I will love equally) next week sometime!

I have many leather bound books.

Additionally, I had a completely different post scheduled for today...but sometimes life takes a sharp left turn and requires a page one re-write.

Watch this. Laugh. Pee a little. Then dance a jig of happiness with me.



I will most definitely be at the midnight showing the day it opens.

These exist.

*blink* *blink*

Source, etsy.

Cashmere underwear. For the low, low price of $45 EACH.

And I thought VS was pricey!

Why being a Mom is awesome.

If I wrote a list, it would probably be eleventy trillion items long, so I will share today's awesomesauce in pictorial form.

Please note that this photo doesn't include the 4 Cars that will be in his
Easter Basket or the entire mini collection I just scored on ebay for $2.

The fact that I can name EACH of these Cars characters (from movies 1&2, thankyouverymuch) without so much as skipping a beat is both something I never thought I would say, and something I am also so proud to say. Alex loves him some Cars characters--and we've had so much fun scouring every store in every city we've been in over the last 2 months to find new ones. I've spent more hours than I care to admit on ebay, looking for the gems that you can't find in stores anymore.

But the time I cherish most is the 30 minutes (or more) every night that we spend playing Cars. We drive them around in circles around the house and take them on adventures in the backyard. They are frequent guests at dinnertime, and 2 of them get selected every night to get tucked into bed with him. They're part of our family, in a weird little way.

It's kind of stupid how much I love these little Cars. And if I'm honest with myself, it's not the actual Cars I love. It's the adventures we take them on and the time we spend together hunting for them. It's the memories we're creating. I know all too soon, the Cars will be collecting dust in a box in the closet and there will be a REAL car in the driveway he likes better. 

That got depressing quickly, didn't it?

Anyway, I forget what my original point was...because in my head this was a really funny post about how I can name every Cars character in my sleep. Yesyesyes. That was it. And that, my friends, is why being a Mom is awesome.

Where I get my inner artist on.

If my half-assed attempts at Pinterest crafts and my "oh-this-safety-pin-that-I-colored-with-a-black-Sharpie-is-totally-enough-to-conspicuously-fix-my-pants-because-I-can't-sew-worth-a-lick" attitude proves anything, it's that I'm not really all that right brained. Which is weird, because I think I am, but when push comes to shove, I'm really not.

Anyway, Joey got me a really cool present for Christmas/our new house--a painting class at a place called Painting With a Twist. Basically, you attend a teacher-led class of the painting of your choosing (from their pre-set calendar) and voilà! Instant art created by y-o-u!

What's even cooler is that he got us each a pass to a class. My problem was that I didn't want to attend the SAME class because I didn't want two of the same pictures for our house. Because that would be stupid. But I didn't want to go to separate classes, either. Because that would be no fun.

So I was DEEE-lighted when I saw a class for a monogram painting. PERFECT! We could go together, and I could do the V and he could do the W and when hung side-by-side, we would have our monogram! My own brilliance sometimes scares me, i.e. the safety pin trick.

So we packed up our wine and snacks (Yes, you can bring your own! Also? drinking wine while painting totally makes you feel more like a legit artist.) and trotted off to our class. Here's a look at my painting from blank canvas to finished product. I'm no Bob Ross, but I'm super proud of it!

They kinda look like scary Halloween paintings in the last picture but I assure you in person they look like etched stone. Or, if nothing else, they will be great Halloween decorations. Carry on.

The things we do for vanity.

So you recall my earlier post about laser hair removal? And how I was all, "Oh, it's nothing! Totally easy! Pain free! I could do it while eating grapes and being fanned by John Stamos!" Yeah. I take it all back.

Stop reading now if you don't want to know about body hair. Specifically, mine. I warned you.

I recently decided to go all Chelsea Handler on my body and basically remove it all. You've already read about my first bikini appointment, and I started the underarm area the other day. Since my appointment this time was during my lunch hour, I couldn't appropriately self-medicate myself as I did in my first.

HOLY HELL IT HURT LIKE A MOTHERTRUCKER.

I've experienced the joy of a bikini wax no less than 40 times in my life (about 4 times a year since I was 18). I've also had a baby sliced from my uterus, and prior to that lived through nearly 24 hours of labor. You would think that both of these fine examples, plus the countless times I've done stupid things like running into walls or accidentally stabbing myself with Wustof kitchen knives would have prepared me for a silly little laser beam Star Wars-ing its way into my armpit.

I assure you, this is not the case.

I honestly don't know how I will make it through five more sessions on the pits, and four more on the bikini. Well, yes, I do. I won't be scheduling any more during my lunch hour, that's for damn sure. I will also add tequila to my rotation and possibly convince my doctor to prescribe Xanax. Momma needs.


Anyway, I have no idea where I was going with this post, other than to appropriately warn you that it friggin' hurts. And also? Self-medication is the way to go. 

Happy birthday, Poppi!

Today my Dad is approximately 8 trillion years old. Or something like that.

I'd like to think that I keep him young, but judging from his own wedding picture to mine, I'd say I've contributed to exactly the opposite..

1976

2007

In other news, aren't his chops the BOMB? And how about that white suit, eh? Hot to trot, that's what I say! Also? I look exactly like my mother, and I love that.

And for the obligatory birthday song, sung by a very sleepy almost 3-year-old at about 7 this morning (And yes, that's Joey brushing his toofers in the background. We multitask at our house.):



Happy birthday, Dad! I love you!

Last man standing.

Yesterday I lost my only living grandparent. What a strange thing to write.

Grandpa Neveau, or "GG" as Alex called him, died early yesterday morning. He was in hospice, so we knew it was coming...but you're never really ready for that.

You know that Hollywood image of what a Grandpa should be?  Witty. A little bit raunchy. Lover of music. Inappropriate in a hilarious way. Outdoorsman extraordinaire. That was GG. A product of his generation, he was the perfect blend of rough around the edges and "come on over here and sit on my knee." And you always knew when he was up to something with that "shit-eatin'" grin on his face. (His words, not mine. He was full of one-liners like that.)

His last smile on Earth was something I will cherish forever. It was on Saturday afternoon in the hospice home, and he was in and out of his groggy state. Alex and Joe had just arrived, and Alex trotted over to the chair I was sitting in at his bedside and said "Hi GG. You don't feel good." Hearing this, GG opened his eyes and in a moment that I know was filled with absolutely perfect clarity, he smiled and said one of his signature phrases, "Weeeeeeelllllllllllllll." (In that deep, drawn out voice.) He didn't open his eyes after that.

Grandpa loved babies. He didn't love when they were crying--and was always quick to hand them back when they were. I know that he and Grandma are up in Heaven, and...well, he's probably out fishing right now, to be honest. But when he gets back, he'll meet Grandma and rock my sweet tWIPs until I get there.

And then I laughed so hard I peed.

As we do every night, Joe and I peeked into Alex's room last night before we went to bed. Usually we see him snuggled into the tiniest ball in the corner of his crib (he sleeps like his Momma). We remove the 3,214,327,832,890,432,890,432 Cars 2 characters that he must have with him every night, give him extra smooches, turn on his humidifier and crawl into bed ourselves.

But last night was something special. Last night, we saw this:

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. Where did his jammies go? To be clear, I know that some kids are super fans of being naked and/or taking off their clothes. Alex has never done this, and actually likes to layer his clothes and would wear footie pajamas with socks and a tee shirt over them if he had his druthers.

I wiped away the tears streaming from my face and doubled over on the floor trying to stifle my laughter to keep from waking my sweet, naked boy. After we calmed down and took a picture (parents of the year!) we got him dressed and went to bed.

This morning, I asked the little pipsqueak why he took off his jammies in the first place. He simply responded, "Mom, I just didn't wanna wear 'em anymore."

And that's that.