I'm not strong enough ...

to be around when Tyler's watching games ...

That fact won't change anything. I'll still watch sports and stuff with him. I'm just not strong enough.

I don't deal well with watching him on his roller coaster of emotion and I really don't deal well when he's "upset" at what's going on in the game ...

I need to improve this part of me ... I have several years yet of sports and Tyler.

But for now, I'm just not strong enough ...

Circular Talk

Things at work are awesome! I know I've said this before, and I know I'll say it again ... but wow ... I am so blessed. I LOVE my job!

In other news ...

My mom's coming up here this weekend to celebrate Tyler's b-day. I'm looking forward to it. It'll be good, relaxing, stay-at-home time ... which I really need.

I have a party tomorrow night. I am really looking forward to it. Hopefully it goes well ...

The Indians are on tonight. Tyler's over at Ryan and Andrea's watching. He took over his required meal ... so (theoretically) they'll win tonight.

We saw mom this past weekend. We went shopping. I got several new pieces. All of which I needed. The last time I shopped for anything "cold weather", I weighed almost 60 pounds more than I do now ... so I needed some sweaters and what not. The most important purchase of the weekend - trouser jeans. They're great! Now I just need to keep my eyes out for a cute pair of heels ... I don't want to hem the jeans. They're not that too long.

And finally ...

I'm sick. I don't usually whine about sick. But man I HATE the chills and the sweats and the achies that come with the flu. I do know this ... if I had sick days, I would have taken one today. I would have rather taken my fever and chills and gone to bed than to work. But it's all good ... because I LOVE my job! And even on a really rough bad sick day, I'm glad I was there ...

And the circle is complete ...

Okay. Another one that made me laugh so hard I cried.

I'm taking a 30 second work break to share with you the joyous email I received from my mother. Fair warning - it's funny ... it's mostly clean ... it may make you laugh till it hurts ...


If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish,the story below is for you.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something was wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What???" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!).
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her(in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to TELL on some guys, you know," she informed me (again-- with the sarcasm...).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," Iannounced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly,I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma..." (You see a pattern herewith the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie,breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze, dear" his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for goodness sake.).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen . . . Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they. . . um . . . um . . . 'play'. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just ... just ... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness. Tears were now running down her face.
"It's just that . . (and then with the fingers) I'm picturing you pulling on its . . its . . . teeny little ..." She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more!
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO~ idea, son." my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $60.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie for therest of your LIFE: Priceless!

Moral of the story: Always pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.