dogs, motherhood

This Guy

My voice rang clear as we zipped along the street towards home.  Seconds earlier I had declared, “This song is my jam.”

There is nothing more cringe-worthy than a parent stating that any song is their jam.

It’s kind of why I had to say it.  It’s kind of true that saying songs are my jam is kind of my jam because my boys think it’s weird.

But, on this day, I didn’t let that stop me.  On this day, I really did wanna dance with somebody.

Maybe even somebody who loves me.

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You know who loves me?  This guy.

 

humor, motherhood

The Lady of the House

I have always loved Mad Dog’s athleticism.  When we were dating, I would take great pride watching him from the sidelines as he crashed his way to the end zone for his touch football team.

Lately, he has been playing more and more basketball with the boys in our backyard.  These games consist of trash talk, spin moves and flagrant(!) fouling.

Yesterday’s game was no exception.  It was 1 v 1, Mad Dog against T.Puzzle.  I sat on our back porch and watched the glory unfold.  Full Speed was next to me spouting off the official referee calls as Mad Dog muscled his way towards victory.   One shot shy of the win, he dropped back deep on the pavement and launched a beauty.  It banked off the backboard slamming home the win.

Something about the whole thing reminded me of those good ol’ days of dating.  I’m not gonna lie, my stomach did some flips.

Mad Dog’s still got game.

At dinner in our post-game analysis, Mad Dog recounted that winning shot.

“I did it for my woman,” he said.

Both T.Puzzle and Full Speed asked, “Yeah, but was she watching?”

As in was Miss Lady watching?  As in, Miss Lady is clearly THE lady Mad Dog was showing off for and I was just a random spectator.

No doubt I can’t compete ….

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Miss Lady sprawls herself across Mad Dog’s lap in devoted adoration.
dogs, motherhood

Times They are A-Changing

Things change as time passes.  Now, when I take my boys to the movies, they no longer jump up on the seat and shout at the screen during action sequences.  While I don’t miss wrangling them into a loosely based version of socially acceptable movie theater behavior, I do miss the wild abandon they would demonstrate as they actively believed they were part of the movie.  (Full Speed watching Transformers for the first time is the stuff of legends in our house).

On a personal level, over time I have noticed a shift in the way my body reacts to dips in temperature.  Ten years of living in Florida has given me the bold physical constitution of a tiny, very old woman.  My midwestern genes fail and I recoil at any temperature below eighty degrees.

My boys tease me endlessly about this.

Recently, Mad Dog purchased me a blanket.  It is velvety smooth and weighted.  Just the kind of thing to help combat cold weather and the stress of our on-going home renovation.

With the boys on break and the home stuff in full swing, we had to take refuge in our upstairs guest room.

I asked the boys to please bring up my new blanket.

Full Speed could barely contain his mirth.  He thought it was hilarious that it was sixty degrees out and I needed this mammoth-like blanket to warm me.

However, he was quickly overruled by Little Guy.

He knows greatness when he sees it:

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