drawings

Stuff you want to know about.

Here’s some important things I thought you should know about.

First. I’ve started working out again. I do it not for physical fitness or to look good, I do it to keep The Darkness away. And the anxiety. I wanted to explain that to everyone I saw on this yuppy jogging path yesterday who gave me funny looks as I jogged while eating a king sized Rice Krispy Treat. Think I’m kidding? I’m not. It was awesome. I felt good after.

I’ve been having anxiety lately. Anxiety is the most useless of emotions. It’s not like depression. At least when I’m depressed I can write dark poems that scare people. Anxiety just makes me super bitchy. 

My mother asked me again to stop swearing on this blog. I explained to her that this blog is written in my voice.  For a long time, I wrote what I thought people wanted me to write. I wasn’t honest.  Then I gave up trying to be who I thought people wanted me to be and just started being myself. My life is stressful. Swear words are used.  It’s not being authentic to the stress and the chaos in my life and in my brain if I don’t write the way I truly see things. Also, it makes the sixth graders think I’m cool. 

The nanny gets here in less than a month. I’m so excited I could die. Her name is Heidi, but henceforth, I will call her “The Best Thing That Has Ever Happened To Me” or “TBTTHEHTM” for short.  I’ve never had such a luxury. I’ve dreamed about it. OH HOW I’VE DREAMED ABOUT IT.  If I get a cat for my 30th birthday (for reals, get your gifts ready. June 1st.) my life will be complete. We only have her until the end of summer when we move to wherever we’re going next and lose our sweet sweet respite services from the State of Virginia.  But until then, it’s going to be the most “epic” summer ever. And by “epic” I mean I’m going to be so freaking lazy that I will function just barely above conscious. Suck on that, Motherhood.

I leave you now a better person. Not me, you. You’re welcome.

Projected body type by the end of August.

confessions · drawings

Stuff that happend that I’m not making up.

Hey look, I’m giving you something to do while you anxiously await the winner of the necklace and earrings from Ever Designs. I’m a good friend like that.

So I was basically told to cut out soda, citrus, chocolate, spicy foods, Melissa M. and happiness this week. Mostly on account of my heartburn. Melissa because she’s no longer coming out for the happiness gala. I’ve been trying to focus my rage on something besides her…and then she sent me a picture of her husband with a cat on his back and it was like BAM. All of my anger and rage is now directed towards StupidDevin and his stupid cat. I’m pretty sure I’ve mapped out a way to make him responsible for my heartburn, too. That dude is so dead to me right now.
(it needs to be noted that Devin having horns and a pointy-eared cat does NOT make him a supervillain. He’s just evil)

Moving on.

I wanted to make a post about our clean happy little family at our happy little pumpkin patch buying happy little pumpkins. I could have, too, because I’m getting better at photoshop…and my kids really did get pumpkins. But not so much at a “patch” as a side-of-the-freeway stand. And we didn’t go as a happy family. Lance threw them all in the car in their grossest clothes so that I could have some time to, in his words, “clean and cry without being interrupted.” Instead, I played four games of internet spades. I will crush you at spades.

What’s next? (this post is becoming more and more like a variety show but without anything really funny or worthwhile. Kind of like Saturday Night Live in between Will Farrell and Andy Samberg. It’s very much indicative of the larger problem I have with this blog. Nothing really goes together.)

You saw my post about my phone going in the toilet, right? Do you know what I learned from it? How to spell the word “toilet” correctly the first time. Also, it worked. My sucking fecal death out of my phone may have given me some intestinal parasite (PRAY that it’s a parasite…like a tapeworm…that would be awesome and stuff), but it also gave me my phone back. Melissa M. would still kiss me on the mouth. She told me so (that brat can say that knowing full well she’s not coming out here anymore. I must punish her. We’re making a blog though. It’s going to be something. Not sure what).
I didn’t take that picture. I don’t have an iPhone. I have an android because Lance is anti-name brand anything. He wants me to feel inferior at all times. Also, my toilet is never that clean. Never. 

Casey WAILED today for two hours because all the butterflies are gone. Two hours. I think God knew it was coming (it’s God’s fault that the butterflies are gone…right?) so he gave me the perfect day beforehand. It was so close to perfect. Abby was the perfect amount of sick. Not so sick that I felt I should keep her in, but sick enough that she was totally okay to chill in her stroller all day. Lance told me that I needed to go buy some clothes. That by itself should tell you how bad my clothing situation was. Lance still wears clothes that say “Lehi High School Pioneers” on them. So I went to “Leeseburg Premium Outlets.” I smirked at the word “premium.” I was wrong. They were PREMIUM. As well as Epic and Extreme and all other words that should no longer be used because they’re obnoxious.

They had an Old Navy and Areopostale, both of which were very nice, but very expected. Then I headed down to….nananana nan annananaaaaaaaa

The Pottery Barn Outlet. BOO FREAKING YEAH. I’m not really a Pottery Barn girl. I should say that first. I LOVE all of their stuff and I love stealing ideas from their catalogs. But I’ve never ever bought anything from the store because  I’m too “cheap” (ie poor).  I still thought things would be wildly expensive…but it was still nice to look right? I got some deals. I got two big throw pillows for $10 a piece and Christmas stalkings (yes I really wrote that) stockings for my whole family for $7 a piece. It was terrific.

But the best was yet to come. I had to stop by Walgreens to get some heartburn medication because I knew I would be stopping for a delicious beverage soon. But then this Walgreens had fountain drinks in the store! I did a little skip dance right there. Then it got all sorts of out of hand when I put my ice in the cup and it was CRUSHED ICE. Just like Sonic. I could have peed myself.

It is ironic that I bought the cause and the cure to my heartburn in one place though, right?

Were you wondering if I was going somewhere with this post? I’m not.

confessions · drawings · I'm so funny?

Why I shouldn’t be left alone for too long.

I’ve been thinking a lot about things lately. Lots of thinking time. I’ve been painting baseboards. Good thinking time. I’ve also had a weird stomach bug (EEEEEcooolll IIIIIII. I swear. Want to hear about it? I kind of want to talk about it, but I’d have to use words like “diarrhea” and “stool” and “so much blood…or wait, was that fruit punch?” but then that would be so gross) which has also given me a lot of alone time. In my Mexican Bathroom Oasis.

The other day I painted my bathroom celiene. Remember how it came down a couple of months ago? Yeah. So I used the same paint I painted the boys’ bathroom celiieieine white. Two months later I paint this celieieing with the same paint and it turns out GREY (gray? what’s the American way to spell that?) At first I was a little mad. Not that I’d have to repaint that tiny area- but that I’d have to get a new brush. A new can of paint. Too many steps. But then I sat (ahahahahaaaa) and looked at it.  I decided I really liked it grey. The bathroom has white wanescoting on it, then a grey/blue paint, then (will have) white crown moulding (which is great to use if you don’t want to worry about cutting in paint or fixing your celieieiieieing right). The grey looks designerish.

Then I compared that to my life. White paint is good. White paint is right. White paint is normal. It makes things brighter, cleaner. I didn’t plan on having grey paint. At first I thought it was a mistake. But there’s something about the grey paint that is awesome, too. It’s different. It’s warm. Sure, there will be people who look at it and think that it’s not right, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be few and far between.

{I’m pretty sure I’m just using that analogy to feel okay about leaving my celieieieing grey.

Now if I could just come up with something to make having disgustingly dirty floors okay, I’ll be SET!}

Another cool thing that happened to me? My chiropractor made me a sandwich, delivered it to my house and then adjusted my shoulder (my computer shoulder, isn’t that sad?) at my house. (can we pretend that his wife wasn’t here and didn’t compel him to do this? It makes the story better. Even still…who’s HUSBAND makes sandwiches for her friend and her and drives them to their house?!) . It was awesome. He also babysits my kids. Whether he knows they’re there or not.  So, if you’re looking for a chiropractor who is not only AWESOME at what he does, but also gives you that personal touch (wow, that sounds so wrong…but I’m not going to fix it because I didn’t mean it to sound wrong. I’m pure in thought), visit ABC Chiropractic in Silverdale, WA or at his new place of business. It also has letters in the name. It’s in Port Orchard. Crap. Now I’ve got to call Heather. Again. Today.

(I tried putting a picture of a cat that needed an adjustment RIGHT HERE but it wouldn’t let me. Blogspot is in league with my husband.)

So Heather came over today because she was having a hard day and cleaned my house. See what a fantastic friend I am?

I watched some birds the other day helping their baby birds to fly. One flew too far away. The birds worked tirelessly to get that baby bird back to the nest. One stayed with the baby bird while the other got the other ones back. Then they both, little by little, got the baby bird on it’s way back to the nest.

Then it was hit by a car.

That last part didn’t happen. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.


drawings · LDS · nerds

Melissa, the awesome.



When you’re like me, wondering why the heck God has given you the trials you have comes quite naturally. Why not spread them out over a couple of families, not just mine? Why not give these heartaches to someone who can handle it so much better? How about someone who has better coping skills and doesn’t turn to food and caffeinated drinks to cope? Hmmm?

It’s because God loves me more than he does you.

Really. He saw how awesome I was in the pre-existence and hooked me up with awesome blessings in this life. But I couldn’t JUST have the blessings, so he had to give me a couple of trials to balance that all out. My Dad told my sister Melanie once that “God loves who he chastens…so he must love you a lot” ha ha sucker! He loves me more (and so did Dad, if you’re wondering). Juuuuussst kidding. You see the point I’m trying to make though, right?

I have a child with autism. Another with Down syndrome. I’m pretty sure I’ve made that abundantly clear. One of the hardest parts of this FOR ME (not for the kids…they have it a lot tougher) is how lonely it feels. I don’t have many friends that have even ONE kid with a disability…let alone two. That doesn’t mean they aren’t awesome and fun and HUGELY helpful to me. They do everything they can. But there comes a point where you just want someone else to know what you’re going through and be able to talk it through with them. I know that the Savior knows what I’m going through. I know that he’s felt this weight I carry. He knows, and He wanted me to have someone who I could talk to. He also knew that I’m a wackadoo and it would have to be someone AWESOME who could put up with me.

So it was no coincidence to me when Melissa and I found each other. I love the Babycenter community pages. I get to talk to other parents of children with autism or Down syndrome. But not both. There really isn’t a forum for that. So one day I had posted in the Down syndrome room about also having a child with autism. I got this letter from someone with the screen name “Melly…” about how she has a son with Asperger’s, OCD and tourrettes and is pregnant with a boy who has Down syndrome. I quickly wrote her back and asked her to find me on Facebook. She did and we became friends. I posted something about the Church to which she commented on. She’s a mom with a child on the spectrum who’s having a baby with Down syndrome and she’s a MEMBER?! It also turns out that she lives in Heber City- which is where Lance’s family lives.

It’s one of those moments where God isn’t simply
showing his hand in my life, he’s WAVING it.

We’ve been friends for a while now and we write each other several times a week. She already knows way too much about me and I have enough to hold over her head to force her to be my friend forever. She’s been SUCH a blessing in my life. I can tell her things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve come to terms with a lot of the emotions I’ve been feeling lately. On top of that, she’s crazy funny and totally uplifting all at once. Things like this just can’t be coincidence! They can’t!

The Gospel is true. God lives and knows each of us personally. He knows what we need and stands ready to bless us. I know this.

You know what else? This baby will be Melissa’s SIXTH kid.
God loves her more than he does me.

confessions · drawings · nerds

Things that haunt my dreams.


As I sat down here I was trying to think about what my Sunday blog post would say. I went through some pictures, trying to think of something spiritual I learned at church and how it can be applied to my daily life. Until I found this picture, and as you can see by the title of my blog post, this haunts my dreams.

This is my brother in law, Jeff. He goes through cycles of being dead/not dead to me. I can’t remember where he is right now. Maybe not dead to me? That way I can make him dead to me when he does something “nice” like tells my sister the vinyl came from me. It didn’t. It came from him. He arranged it and is a liar.

Anyways, Jeff doesn’t haunt my dreams. Not anymore. Neither do dudes with knives. Those dreams belong to my sisters. Along with the murderers in their basements. I’m not really afraid of that. You know that if you’ve ever been to my house when I wasn’t there, tried the door to find it unlocked and let yourself in. Fortunately, the only ones I know who did this left treats (like this sweet thing you stick over the stuff you’re nuking in the microwave so it doesn’t get your microwave dirty? That was Misty. You can learn more about her in the sidebar).

My dreams lately have had my skinny friends in them. They haunt my dreams. Them in their cute jeans. It’s mostly Jill (have I told you this, Jilly (can I call you Jilly?)? If not SURPRISE…you haunt my dreams) and E. We’re always exercising or cleaning. Those dreams are horrifying. I’ll find pictures of these chicks so you can see how freaking scary they are.

That’s Jill with…YES…John Freaking Travolta. Is it sad that my only claim to fame in my life is that my friend met John Travolta, got a picture with him with his arm around her (gasp! really, if the thought of that doesn’t make your heart pound you’re mostly dead inside) IN HIS JET. He even kissed her. It’s a jealousy that might quickly become obsessive, so I’ll end that. *she did just give me permission to photoshop my head onto her daughters.) <—-that’s not an emoticon if you’re wondering. I don’t use those. Not ever.

This is E. Or E-Hos. Or Hosfrizzo (fo shizz-o!)

Take it in.
Take it all in.

That picture is my most favorite thing.

Okay, back to things that haunt my dreams. My dreams almost ALWAYS take place in Phoenix. I remember things in my dreams about my house in Phoenix that I haven’t thought about in years. Like the awesome monochromatic living room in shades of deep fuschia (my husband could remember the name of this color when I couldn’t. It makes him gay…also, when I wikied “shades of pink” I learned that there is really a shade of pink called “shocking pink.” I once knew a little girl who’s room was that shade. It pulsated. I swear it). or that place behind the couch we used to hide behind when mom got mad. But it’s friends from Washington in Phoenix. You’d think we’d dry out or something.

I wonder why all my dreams are stuck in Phoenix. I wish that because we are there anyways, my dad would just show up. I miss that dude. I think about him a lot. He’d really be into iphones.

{ I’m actually trying to get this post away from actual dreams to things that scare me. But it’s not working. So I’m going to say these things do actually haunt my dreams just for continuity’s sake.}

Cancer. Whenever I have a lump – like this weird one above my ear- it’s cancer. Or a headache. Brain tumor. It’s always freaking cancer. I think when you’ve seen cancer so much in your life, it kind of becomes ingrained in your psyche. If you believe in psyche’s, which I don’t. I always think too that any odd scrape I have that I can’t remember getting is a flesh eating bacteria, mostly because of an Oprah show I caught.

I think I’ve mentioned this one before, but large cylinders that gradually come to a really sharp points really scare me. It makes me all fidgety just thinking about it.

Death. I’m not afraid to die. I’m really not. I had a dream that I died once. It was the best dream I’ve ever had. Really. Got killed by an airplane. It was instantaneous and for a moment I was in Heaven (in my dream) and it was so awesome I could die. That’s ironic. Anyways, I can’t die. If having one child with special needs makes it so I have to live a long, loooong life, having two pretty much means I’m invincible. Like that dude on that show. I can’t die. This thought scares me. Did you see that movie “Dead Again”? My dad used to wear a shirt from the movie that was made to look like he had a cannon shot through him. Fun fact.

{want to know another fun fact about me? I have NINETEEN pairs of stretchy pants…if that doesn’t warrant a call to “What Not to Wear” I don’t know what does. But not yet. Wait 4 months until I’m as skinny as the chicks that haunt my dreams}

confessions · drawings

You want to know about me?

So every once in a while Casey will get right up into my face- like eyeball to eyeball and say, “I know about you, Mom”. I think it’s the cutest thing ever. He knows about me. You want to know about me? I’ll tell you some stuff.

* I was thinking about this last night at a church thing when people were introducing themselves. I wondered what short interesting thing I could say about myself and EVERYTHING sounded as boring or dumb as the Jeopardy contestants stories. Have you heard them? Terrible. If I grade that person’s life as being awesome or not awesome by their BEST Jeopardy story, then people have a lot sadder lives than I think. *

  • Bullets!
  • Right now, I have five thousand things I need to do. Like vinyl. Like make blocks for someone. Like cleaning because my brother is coming TOMORROW, but I’m here because sitting at the computer is a coping mechanism. A poor coping mechanism.
  • I like robots, but still have a healthy fear of them. It’s not the same with raccoons.
  • Did you hear that there’s a robot that can give you a sponge bath? Sign me up!
  • I spend A LOT of time thinking about stuff I can do in a monkey suit (ideas are greatly appreciated)
  • I start new projects all of the time. Like this week, because I have too much to do, I decided to take up making clay monsters. They’re so awesome YOU could die. I plan to put them in my boys’ closets. And on necklaces. and in my pockets.
  • I hope to combine my love of crafting with my love of not being home into a job at Michael’s. I applied to be a teacher. Muwahahahaha.
  • I’m really afraid of cylindrical items that slowly curve to a point. Seriously. Thinking about them makes me crazy anxious. I’ll draw you a picture (it’s immersion (but not like the baptism kind) therapy). Okay so I drew the picture. It’s terrifying. Why would anyone make such a device? To scare me.
  • My life is mundane and quite boring. I have no new news or funny childisms. Peyton has never told me he loves me. NEVER. When I tell him that I love him, he just says “no”. or something pithy. The Price is strong with that one.
confessions · drawings

This I know for sure

Today I had a pre-op appointment with my OB. I’m getting my tubes tied and torching my uterus next week. My mom keeps asking me if I know if I’m sure that we are done having kids. This is something I know for sure.

We. Are. Done.

I’ve written this blog post several different ways by now. There’s no way I can put this without sounding terrible to at least one group of people. I have friends who have two kids and would KILL to have four. I know people who have four and would have loved to have more but did not have the ability. I know people who have had one kid or zero and are fine with that. I think it all goes back to shifting our expectations from what we thought should have been, to what is.

What is isn’t always as terrible as we think it would be.

(I’m going to go off topic for a second here because I reminded myself of something. Today in the waiting room I saw a bunch of pregnant chicks. I wondered how many of them thought that having a child with Down syndrome would be the worst thing in the world. I wanted to hold Abby up for them like the monkey did on the Lion King (ten points to whoever names the monkey first without googling it) and show them my sweet, smiling, perfect little girl. Tell them how beautiful having Abby has made my life. It’s not the worst thing. It’s quite possibly up there with the very best things in life)

So we are done. I started to feel it as Abby’s due date got closer. It was a weird feeling for me. Lance and I originally wanted 7. S e v e n k i d s . That was, of course, before we had any. But it didn’t really change. After each baby I have always felt VERY strongly that there were more. But even before we knew of the special challenges Abby would have, I felt like we were okay with not having any more. It wasn’t that I was particularly happy about this. I would have loved to have at least one more. Round out my basketball team. Live the dream. What have you. But like I said, it’s about shifting expectations.

My mom keeps saying that I’m very young to make such a decision. She’s absolutely right. I don’t know any one my age who has been sterilized (cool word, huh? I get to use it. And I’m going to. A lot). I also don’t know anyone who has a child with autism and a child with Down syndrome. And Peyton (who I kid a lot about because I can. I love that boy with ever fiber of my being). She thinks that maybe in five or ten years (she had me when she was in her late thirties, and I have two younger siblings) I might seriously regret this decision…but that’s why prayer is so cool. I don’t know what the rest of my life will bring. I do know it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be good. But God does. He knows that I have my hands full as it is, and has given me a very strong peace that He’s okay with us being done. That’s all I need to feel. Because, in the end, I know that my prayers are answered and if I do what I am told in those answers, I will be happy. This I know for sure.

confessions · drawings · I'm so funny?

You Googled ME!


So, my new favorite thing is to see who visits this blog. It does wonders for my self esteem (I laugh as I say that because right now my self esteem lives in the fold between my belly and my legs). And the craziest thing has started to happen- people are googling me! I’m so glad I never did porn. (I have typed no less than 7 HYSTERICAL (well, to me anyways, I have REALLY low standards on what is and isn’t funny (parenthesis in parenthesis in parenthesis! My own linguistic inception!)) sentences that followed that one, all much to racey to post, now that I know people are googling me. It could be CHILDREN.

Don’t be confused with the dude from Switzerland named Alexis Magnusson. We’ve talked. Even though he’s older, he’s now going by Alexis Magnusson III. Why ‘the third’ you ask? Just another degree of separation. That dude is crazy submissive. Unless you meant to google him and somehow are awkwardly fixated on this blog. You should be. It talks about such interesting subjects as poo and postpartum depression.

So anyways, cool. You googled me. Makes me feel all sorts of celebrityish. And not in the Sarah Palin celebrity way, because that would make me feel kind of dirty (I only say this because it always means an interesting conversation with my sister Shelby), but in the kid on youtube who lipsyncs songs celebrity way. I’ll post that. It’s amazing.

drawings · family · I'm so funny?

Epic Vacay (part uno)



Do you know what happens when I forget to take my camera with me on vacation?

only. good. things.

It’s a surefire trick to having the best vacay ever. No way to prove it besides a sweet picture of my hands that my sister took on my phone that I can’t post. For reasons.

It also means that I scour the internet finding cool pictures to add and make a few drawings. Hold tight. It’s going to be EPIC (epic vacay. yes folks, I’m fourteen)

(i’m writing this now instead of waiting to get the pictures. why? because my baby shower was two months ago and i’ve yet to get the pictures from it so i’ve yet to blog about it and that shower was explosive and needs to be blogged about. but i haven’t. no pictures)

So here’s how it went down. My teeth HURT. Badly. I like sugar. I don’t floss. Well, I didn’t floss. I do now. I’ve had a massive drill induced change of heart. I had MANY cavities.Plus, I wanted to get my grill all blinged out.

My sister has been bugging me for FOREVER to see Abby. She loves her the most, I’m pretty sure. She finally called and said that if I didn’t come down there SOON she would be coming here SOON. Even with the threat of having to get all of my dentistry done, I’d still take that over having to clean my house. So off I went.

Maybe I need subheadings.
Back to the dentistry. My brother in law is a dentist. I’ve never had anyone I knew do my dentistry because I didn’t think there would be any way I could look them in the eye after such a thing. So much screaming. Like any warm blooded American, I hated even the thought of going to the dentist. So I hadn’t.

I could make you a huge long list of things I’d rather do. BUT I knew if I had paid for a flight to go down there, I couldn’t back out (I had called and canceled 3/4 of my dentist appointments up here). The last dude that did my fillings had a lazy eye. It was very unnerving.

Got in on Wednesday night and bright and early Thursday morning I sat down for a marathon day of dentistry. Surprisingly it was not bad. Not even a little.

it was a
gentle
dental
experience.

So it turn out that my brother in law is really good at what he does. I’m not just saying that. I wouldn’t. Especially about a dentist. He’s superfantastic. It restored my faith in the whole profession. If you live anywhere near Surprise, Arizona, I highly recommend him. In fact, there’s a good chance I might fly out there every six months for my check ups. The other cool part about it? He lets you drive his Lexus around after.

Jeff is one of the most generous people I know. He knew that right now with all of our bills for Abby and Casey that another would be tough. He did all of my work for free. To top it off, he did the work he couldn’t do the first day on his day off- even paying his hygienist time and a half to come in and help. See what kind of guy he is? Don’t you want that dude to be your dentist?

Melanie


This is my sister Melanie. I like her. A lot. I’d like to be more like her as well.

My aunt told my mom that her girls ‘exude light’ everywhere they go. She’s sort of right. Melanie does. I just like to stand really close to her so you think it’s coming out of me as well.

Melanie is the kind of person I wish I was more like. She’s an extrovert. She’s bubbly. She’s quick witted. She’s like an amazingly spiritual Liz Lemon.

You know how I just said that Jeff is one of the most generous people I know? (you should, it was like five sentences ago) well, Melanie is the other. When I got there she was waiting with gifts for Abby (the cutest clothes ever), she took me to get all girled out- next time you see me I’ll look less like a frump. I got fake nails and a sweet pedicure. I like being a girl sometimes.

Anyways, I love going to Melanie’s because being around her makes me want to be a better mom. I think I need to go to her house quarterly (or just move there) so I can reevaluate my mothering skills, steal some recipes and play with her five cute kids. Her house really is a place where the spirit resides. They don’t have the TV on all of the time. They play games and do puzzles with each other. Ramble ramble ramble. I really do have a point.

I like Melanie. A lot. I want to be more like her in every single way.

Life Defining Moment:

YOu know the kind of moment you know changes you to your DNA? The kind that solidifies all of the hard work and crap you’ve been through? I had one while we were there. I talk a big game. Especially on facebook. FINALLY I got a chance to prove myself. To make good on all of the talk. And I did.

I beat the hell out of Shawn Haught.

It went down like this: Shawn and his oobercute wife Summer (who has her place in CK-1 sealed just by putting up with her husband) came over to Melanie’s for games. I decided to have love and kindness in my heart towards him because he really can’t help the way he is. So when he came up to say hello, I gently put out my hand and began to say, “it’s so good to finally meet you, dear friend” and out of NOWHERE the goober went to punch me in the skull. From there, all I saw was white hot rage, I lost time and came to on the floor of Melanie’s family room grabbing at Haught as he was screaming like a girl and running away. Melanie later told me that I tackled him down onto the couch, we fell on the floor and I pinned him down and punched him over and over in his ribs. I have to believe Melanie, even though I’m more of a kidney puncher.

I’d feel super duper awesome about the whole event if Shawn wasn’t such a freaking GIRL.