Let Me Tell You What Its All About

Around 12:30 this morning, I was just drifting off to sleep when out of nowhere, Michael Jackson's P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) started playing in my backyard. Well, not my backyard, but from somewhere in the vicinity. Neighbors, somewhere. A party. I imagined people moonwalking in the grass, tapping their fingers on the side of the hot tub. Then they turned it up even more. That's a really long song. I didn't even mind. I kept the windows open.

Friday, my sister brought me a white chocolate mocha, a thank you for taking over her babysitting shift at Jazzercise this weekend. She pulled into the driveway, blaring Jackson Five's, ABC, a local radio station doing an all day tribute. We stayed in the driveway, with our mocha's, until the song was over.

Yesterday, I went over to my parents' house, and friends of theirs stopped by. Within minutes we were reminiscing about hanging Michael Jackson album covers on our walls as kids, and sitting in front of MTV counting down the hour until they showed his video again.

I've been watching a lot of Michael Jackson's videos with my girls. They've heard his music via dance class and Guitar Hero, but I guess they had never seen him before. They were amazed, shocked, and confused all at once when they saw him--That's Michael Jackson? I don't know what they were expecting, but I'm pretty sure it was closer to a Jonas Brothers video. It was even more mind boggling to them comparing earlier Michael Jackson videos to later. How do you explain that? I just kept turning the conversation back to his dancing--Look girls, he's on his toes!

I don't know what my point is on the blog today, except to talk about what we're all talking about anyway. What else is there? Don't answer that. This time last week, I would have never guessed this is what I would be doing, near-consumed with today. It's quite the event. I'm really surprised where the last few days have taken me. I'm sad. I don't even have a CD of his. I guess I'm not really that surprised. It's what you do when someone you admire in some way dies.

If Michael Jackson could see us now, right?

**Little warning...the link below is from the movie, Clerks II, which is hilarious, but maybe not the most appropriate for the kiddos. Not bad, but you know...It's Clerks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=466FSE9Gouk

More Than A Moment To Remember

I'm sad to hear about Michael Jackson dying. Honestly, I've been sad about Michael Jackson for years, not really knowing what to think about him with all the questionable and down right strange things connected to him. That said, as an entertainer, he was amazing. It's sad to know that some kind of magic has left us.

Thriller was the first album I ever owned. I was around ten, and I can remember holding the album cover in my hand for days, not wanting to put it down, let alone stop listening to it. I just couldn't get enough. None of us could. His music is a connection to my childhood. And I do believe the music from that time is my favorite of his--Billie Jean, Beat It, Wanna Be Startin' Somethin', P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing). It is just so good. I remember being specifically drawn to his dancing though. Of course, the dancing. He was so smooth. I remember thinking he could float.

There is just no denying the influence his music has, the timelessness of it. I heard Man In the Mirror today for the first time in years, and remember slow dancing to it in high school. It still moves me. I forgot how much I love that song. Just the other day, my 20-month-old nephew was dancing to Thriller, throwing his little arms up in the air all tiny zombie-like, finishing the song in a creepy little laugh. My kids know who Michael Jackson is, they belt out the words to his songs right along with me.

As bizarre as his life seemed outside the music, I imagine it is the music that will continue to be the gift years and years from now.

Monkey Bars Pretty Much Stink (to put it mildly)

We had quite the day yesterday! It's been a while since we've had one of those, so I knew it was coming. It started out good--Jazzercise with my girl, then right after, a PTO meeting at the park. Beautiful day, sunny, breezy, warm, not hot. My girls were playing on the playground, with the other PTO kiddos, whilst we went over fundraising and dates. Maybe fifteen minutes into it, O comes running over to tell me that A-girl fell off the monkey bars. Sure enough, fall she did.

Right away, I knew we were leaving and going to get her looked at. She was hurting and wouldn't move her arms. On the drive down, I kept thinking that I should just take her to Urgent Care, but I hate, hate, hate going to Urgent Care. So much. So much, that it's blogworthy (another day). I was trying the doctor first. Plus the Urgent Care was just across the street.

I knew it wasn't life threatening, as A-girl ripped up and down and this way and that the very idea of monkey bars everywhere, from the backseat. Blast them! If she were allowed to say the bad words (like "stupid"), she would. She never wanted to see another monkey bar as long as she liiiiived! And as long as I carried her, and walked slow, and didn't breathe on her, she managed not to scream bloody murder.

Somehow, the planets aligned, and we got right in at the doctor's office. It probably looked very dramatic when I carried her in, covered in bark dust, and snotty tears. She didn't look so good either.

Thank goodness, it was only a sprain on one of her arms. It did manage to take all the live long day anyway though. Because I took her to the doctor instead of the Urgent Care, there was only one person that could wrap a splint. We actually had to leave and come back when that person was available. So we left, got the comfort food from Wendy's, the Motrin and teeny bop magazines from Walgreen's and camped out on my mom's couch for two hours. 100% better than Urgent Care.

This was our first time really getting hurt like this--something beyond a band-aid. So it was scary for her. Despite my tedious explanation of what would happen, she had no idea what to expect, ignoring me and going to worst-case-scenario mode--Are they going to rip my skin open?

Thankfully, everything--the exam, the X-ray, the splint wasn't anything she imagined. She was a brave girl. She even used please and thank you--Please move my arm slowly. In it all, she was most afraid of the sling. The sling! She cried for five hours, not about the pain shooting up her arm, but about getting a sling! On and on and on about the sling! Then of course, when we finally got it, it was the coolest thing ever. So much better than a band-aid.

What's Your Name Again?

Did you see my blog post from yesterday--HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!? Well not my blog post, as my hubbs somehow got in here (and scared the beans outta me) and blogged an anniversary post for me. That guy is real funny. I tell ya, that's what'll keep you together--the funny. He did good though. The wife is pleased.

Today at Jazzercise, my beautiful girlfriend (we will call her Chery), told me she had seen my hubbs post, and that when she saw the pic he posted of him and I, she thought I looked like Ashley Judd, you know, with the short hair and everything. I really want to see it, but try as I might, I just don't see it. It did occur to me that that isn't the first time I've heard someone say that.

(I had a hard time finding one that I thought I might look like, cuz she is Ashley Judd. So I went for one that looked "normal"--well, normal for Ashley Judd.)

Now I tend to get the, "Is your name?" a lot. I usually remind people of someone they know--their kiddo's teacher, their cousin, the girl working the McDonald's counter...that sort of thing. I think I have a very "average" look about me. I blend in.

My hubbs is another story. We once had someone ask if he was this minor league baseball player who we had never heard of, but they totally thought it was him. They were thisclose to asking for an autograph. I've heard he looks like Anthony Wiggle and then there's the whole Robert Downey Jr. bit. He gets that a lot, which I totally agree with. He looks like Robert Downey Jr. on a good day. A good day for Robert. Plus, those eyelashes of his, draw people--women--in. So yeah, he doesn't blend so much.

(Um...yeah)

Back to Ashley Judd though. When we still lived in Texas, I got in a minor car accident backing out of a parking spot at a movie theater (not my fault, I swear), and the cop that came to assist, took my license and gave me the whole double-take. A few times. He kept looking at my license and then back at me. I was thisclose to getting nervous on top of my already nervous, when he said, "I thought you were Ashley Judd. You really look like Ashley Judd." Don't you just love the "really"? Really. He must've been a fan. How nice it was to leave there without a ticket and a story to blog about five years later. Thank you, Ashely Judd.

(If I were to really look like her, this is probably what I would look like. I think she was recovering from surgery in this pic. But the texting is pretty accurate. Mmmmhmmmm...)

(And this is what I would want to look like if I were to look like her. True.)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!

Howdy Sunny-blog fans! Chris here… “guest-blogging,” if you will, on the occasion of this fine Monday morning. So why am I blogging you ask? That’s an easy one… Today’s our 13th Wedding Anniversary!

I thought about just sending a card, but then I should have thought about that this time LAST week. Oops. Then there’s the big 13th Anniversary gift … that’s, well, still at the store…waiting…to be…picked out. Yeah, DOUBLE-oops. Okay, so you know I’ll call today, but that’s a big “YEAH-me” too…not. But then I read Sunny’s awesome blog yesterday for Father’s day. (And Thanks hun, I REALLY needed that.)

So I thought to myself…”Self, you know what says Love? Hacking in to your wif’s blog and posting a big HAPPY 13th ANNIVERSARY! Now THAT…says LOVE!” Yes, I’m thinking folks that’s a big-old shot of LOVE. Better than Rock of Love, without the catfights and bandanas. It’s potentially a big-old shot of STALKING too, but I think only in the state of California…and maybe New York…but we’re in neither, so I should be good. I think.

So Hun, here’s to you…and us. Thanks for 13 GREAT years together (married!) … and for 2 AWESOME squirrels … for the great times, and the laughs, and the trips home from the hospital… from spider bites to big flaming “balls of gas” (both of which resulted in laughing doctors – not cool – and medication) … from months apart halfway around the world, to days in the car on zig-zagging cross-country moves … from Pet Shop Boys on the answering machine, to 1 (okay, 20) too many Wiggles concerts … from way too many beer glasses, to wayyyyy to many nick-knacks, paddy-whacks, candles, and Americana … there’s noone … no, NO-ONE whom I’d rather share these years – and the many years to come (as I'll eventually end up like my favorite guy from Carlsbad ... see below)– than with you. Love you Sunshine Buzo, and Happy 13th Anniversary!!!

Oh, and yes, we will celebrate SOON!! OK, that’s it…back to your regularly scheduled blog …and I’m sure I’ve dredged up enough stories to keep you busy writing 5-lines for the next few days… ;)

P.s. – I REALLY hope you were reading this with Lil’ John yelling in the background, because, really folks – EVERYTHING goes better with a little “YEEEEE-AHHHHHH-UHH!” in the background. Try it. I’m SOO serious.

...not....

Happy Father's Day

Okay, five lines.

Happy Father's Day to all of you dads out there! And I know some good ones. Especially, my babies' daddy!

It's funny looking back at the pre-kiddos era with the hubbs. The second we got married, I wanted babies. Well, to be honest, probably since I was about fourteen, I've wanted the babies. Four boys to be exact. But since MY dad was such a good daddy, I managed not to do that.

The hubbs was totally not ready for the babies when we first got married. He managed to make me wait--for five years. He had a plan for us to enjoy just the "him and me" and be more financially secure (yada, yada, yada...). Looking back, it was a smart move, but man did I ever want the babies. He did get me a puppy though.


Don't tell him, but I think the hubbs was scared of the whole kiddo thing. He couldn't imagine how good he'd be at it. I knew though. I had a glimpse into that even before we were married.

I have a brother twenty years younger than me--Caleb. He was and is a wonderful surprise. The hubbs and I were dating when my parents announced they were pregnant--he was sitting at the dinner table, shocked with the rest of us. Caleb was supposed to be born on my birthday. He came two months early. Caleb had to stay in the hospital quite a while and all of us would take shifts and go be with him, hold him. It was important that Caleb be held a lot at the hospital. He thrived on the interaction, the touch. Well, on more than a few occasions, the hubbs (when he was still a non-hubbs), would go to the hospital, all by himself and hold Caleb.

Let me just take this up a few notches too and give you a little more info--I wasn't even dating my hubbs when Caleb was born. We were "on a break", just starting to be friends again (which is a miracle and a blog in itself). What does that say? I know, right? Break over.



So, you see, I knew he'd be a great dad. He's the dad that as soon as he walks in the door (after an endless day at work, or traveling from D.C. to Portland, or just a trip to the Home Depot), the volume goes up ten notches and the girls are hanging off of him like monkeys. And he's good with that. Since day one, he has been right there, in it with me. The good and the challenging. The nights of negative sleep. The diapers. The all night ER visits. The Chuck E. Cheese. The dress up. The shrilling. The discipline. The Wiggle concerts. The Candyland. The dance recitals. The whining. The coloring. The princess movies. The bedtimes. The pancakes. The list goes on for miles. For years. Forever.

What was I thinking? Five lines? Totally not enough.

First Things First (But Immediately After)

Ooooh, typing with my new french tipped finger nails is so. much. better.

Anyway...I have been waiting for this weekend for weeks. Not because it's Father's Day weekend, not because it's my anniversary coming up, but because it's community garage sale weekend. I know. It's been on my calendar, written in purple, circled and underlined three times, since April. So, what am I doing blogging at 7:54 a.m.? Let me tell you...

My kids are still sleeping. Remember I blogged about this yesterday? Yeah. Shhhh...do not wake those kids up. BUT the big thing is Jazzercise. I'm okay with skipping once in a while (even though I feel like I instantly gain five pounds in the backside region), but yesterday, my 8-year-old jazzercised with me. If you know the girl at all, this is no small thing--it's blog worthy.

She's usually in school when I'm jazzercising, but it's summer and she is officially too big to be in the "baby room". She usually just sits and watches, which is soooo entertaining to an 8-year-old. I've been given the dagger eyes enough to know. So I've been trying to convince her to jazzercise with me (notice I keep spelling out "jazzercise" instead of "exercise"). I encourage, It's just like dance class. You know the grapevine AND kick-ball-chain. But she's my serious, observant child. She has to get comfortable, understand the in's and out's and the what's. And it totally has to be her idea.

She finally watched long enough and decided to give it a go. Her only stipulation was that we had to be in the back row. Which I understood. So I gave a little wave to my sister up in the front, and we headed to the back.





My girl looooved it. She kept up the entire time--well over an hour of it. Cardio. Little weights. Tubes. Exercise ball. Stretching. Everything. She broke out in a little sweat. I loved jazzercising with my girl! It made The Momma proud. We bonded over the water bottle, as she informed me that she couldn't wait to do it again, but next time she wanted to be up front, so she could see better (that's my girl). High fives everywhere.

She talked about it all day yesterday, skillfully drawing just about every conversation back to jazzercising and how much she loved it and couldn't wait to go back. She wants to go twice a day! She wants work out clothes. I'm on this.

The garage sales will just have to wait for me until after class. My girl is busy growing up.