Diving in.

As we were re-watching the pairs diving olympic trials (yah, I'm all about it) it made me question speedos.  Granted, I constantly question them, but "get it" in this arena.  I get the hair removal (ish.. for competition and tiny bathing suit-ness.)  What I do NOT get is why divers have such TINY speedos that their buttcracks show?  I mean, is the lack of material really helping you fly through the air that much better?  I'm guessing no.  Are they not embarrassed to be watched by the entire world with plumbers butt?  I think I'd be embarrassed. 

Or maybe divers just genetically have extremly long buttcracks?  Awkward. 

I'm in countdown mode.  Countdown until Friday when the opening ceremony starts.  Countdown to medal tallies.  Countdown to gymanstics, diving, swimming, track, the marathon--and yes I will watch that.  because it's fascinating.  and fast.  and their buttcracks don't show.  Granted, they pee themselves in the name of time, but whatever.  I guess I'm just not Olympic material as I do not like my buttcrack to show nor do I pee myself.

This picture isn't exactly what I was looking for... but does show the seethruness... I got nervous with googling "olympic diver butt."  You never know who is watching.

Two.

Griffin is two.  As of yesterday.  7.22.12.  My baby turned 2.  Today babycenter sent me an email about my "pre-schooler."  Which I think is ridiculous.  But that isn't what this is about.

NeeNee got him a lawn mower that (kind of) blows bubbles.  He promptly kicked it out of the way when he saw....... The TRICYCLE.  The beloved bi-chichle.  Loved even more?  His helmet.  Which he refused to take off yesterday and wore in his wagon around the block.  So we kind of looked like crazy parents who make their kid wear a helmet in a wagon.  I judged us.  And his poor choice of wearing a helmet in hot arse weather.  Other amazing presents--books.  an awesome tractor that sings Old McDonald.  An alarm clock (from us!  Thanks Heidi!)  jammies.  Trains.  An alphabet toy.  A dinosaur.

My baby.  My first baby.  Is a big boy.  He sings songs.  He walks on the beam beam beam.  He asks about EVERYONE.  Where daddy?  I see em.  I see garbage truck on Mon-nay.  Who was at your party?  Glammy.  Poppy.  And Lambie.  He is big into playing pretend.  Today he wanted bunny to hold lambie.  He has started calling us mommy and daddy.  I'm holding on to mama.  He is able to throw massive angry fits.  Which is awesome.  He's decided to not like the bath the last 3 days.  He is a good little eater.  He is a sweaty boy.  He likes to help.  He likes to need help.  He likes to say, "wassat mama?"  He is MUCH better in the car.  He still loves to drive.  He loves being outside.  He loves to talk.  He repeats everything.  He talks in sentences.  He knows books.  When we read them he "reads" along with me. He is into lambie.  He wants lambie a lot.  He also wants mama a lot.  He is so so sweet.  And says thank you.  And please.  And is demanding.  And precious.  and makes me laugh.  and likes tisses (kisses.)  I love him.  can't imagine what life was like before him.  (more rested and probably a little more intoxicated. with more nights out. and less time at home.--I like this trade.)

We had his party at the gym down the street and it was awesome.  my best idea ever.  not to have the party at our house.  Second best idea?  Red icing.

hills.

They OWNED me this morning.  So did the 5:25 alarm.  Perhaps that was the first sign.  Late to meet my friend.  No shoes on.  No hair up.  It's amazing I made it there.  And home.  And didn't pass out.

Turns out... I should be running some more perhaps?

The Bieber Fever.

G$ is a singer.  He sings with zero tune. And only knows some words.  Tonight we got a lot of "Farm, e-i, on dat farm, dat chicken, e-i."  It is kind of amazing.  Especially "dat chicken" part.

Now to say he loves the Bieb's "baby baby" is an understatement.  I'm sad this isn't louder, and that he can't rap the Luda part, but I guess I'll be proud of him anyway.  I guess.

The only way this could be more random is if I had a glass of wine and an ambien. But instead I had 2 beers.

What?  Yah.  Random.

So I'm reading this.  I read her blog.  It makes me laugh.  It is blocked at work because we have crazy ass filters, and because she uses the F word, I think.  It tells me that it's "adult content."  Granted, it told me that once when I was trying to look at a baby blanket, so you never know.  It's hilarious though.

My child turns 2 in ONE WEEK.  What the what?  How did that happen?  He also entertained a house of about 40 people tonight.  He is one sweaty mess of energy.  People told me he's cute, so I'm going with that instead of him being a hot sweaty mess.  Cute just sounds... cuter.  I mean, am I right?

I'm tired.  We had some cabinets rip themselves off of the wall this week.  We have shiz everywhere.  You might recall from the great flood that we are apparently prone to house tragedy.  How this happens?  I'm not sure.  No alcohol was ruined in the process though.  And pinterest has had an increase of "laundry room" envy from me.

I will be back later to wax poetic about our kitchen, our new bed, my sleeping in the middle of a king sized bed by myself, a lady who fell asleep at the little gym, and other tales I'm sure you can't wait to hear.

Peace out.

Now I love puppies...

I love puppies.  I think they are sweet and precious.  I love Gizmo like a furry child.  A difficult furry child with a humping obsession for my moms dog, but whatever.  I get that they are family.

However... here is a conversation just had at work.

B:  Did you hear about all of the babies had this week down on our end of the office?
Me:  No, I didn't!  (yes, I did, but am giving you the chance to brag about your new grandson.)
B:  I had a grandson on Monday, R had a granddaughter on Tuesday and T had 3 puppies yesterday!

It's her fourth grandson, but she was literally more excitable about that.  I've had another person tell me about the puppies too (but not the grandchildren.)

This is an interesting place I work.

In an unfortunate turn of events... I just bought a bag of gardetto's. 

Shazam

July 4 is camp week.  I co-direct a senior high camp.  I have done this for a long arse time.  I started going to this camp in 1990.  I have missed 2 summers.  The first, after my freshman year of college, and then a couple of years ago when I was 9 months preggo.  The dr. poo poo'd the idea.  I didn't get it.  Whatevs, y'all.  Whatevs.  

I met the Ben Black here.  

Ps's.  TX bbq is brisket.  And it's life changing.

PPS's.  I love a golf cart.  I also won't lie that we lost a wheel on one and had a camper pee her pants.  These rides are not for the faint of heart.

My 100 million dollar idea involved glow bracelets.  1.  I love them.  2.  High school kids love them.  3.  high school kids often make poor decisions.  And wear glow bracelets.

I love tie dying.  I also love workout attire.  Mostly I love tie dying.  I want to do some sheets.  Camp feeds my addiction.

I love these girls more than my life.  The girl on the right has been my friend since 1995.  What the what?  PS.  We had a lot of kids born that year.  They are amazingly, hilarious, lovely, shazamy girls.  PPS.  Shazam is a word I decided should make a comeback in our everyday vocab.  These girls also help me bring my dreams to reality in this realm.

80's day?  Yes please.  And yes.  My legs are that big.  Yes.  I AM doing a high school girl pose.

Yes.  This week is life changing.  And needed to keep me healthy.  I live for it.  Breathe it.  Sweat it.  Hope that no scorpion stings it.  

And, with 224 high school kids, I know what drama means.