Ordinary. The kind of beautiful, dangerous ordinary that you just can't leave alone.

So it's Valentine's weekend and I thought I'd share a few things about being married. No no, they're good things. They're reasons why I love being married!

First off, I'm married to this guy.



What's not to love, right? He's fun-loving, quick witted, and looks great in a bowler hat. The goggles make him look like he's missing a chromosome though. But I'm letting it slide because knowing that I have someone who might just sport those puppies at any given moment is exciting. I have a partner that makes me laugh. Well, he makes everybody laugh. But I'm far superior to you schmucks. At least I am in his eyes.

Yet another perk of being married. I can talk about poop and pick my nose and not feel self conscious. And believe me, sometimes there are things you just have to talk about but know that none of your friends will want to hear how big of a crap you just took. But I know I can tell my hubby and he won't leave me for it. Why? Because divorces are expensive and we're too cheap for that. And as super as he may be, he wouldn't have anyone to discuss bowel habits with either.

Marriage is not all potty talk. There's nothing in the vows that says "Do you take this woman to have and to hold, and talk incessantly about otherwise inappropriate subject matter?" There are much more tender moments thrown in there, too. Like these...



Where I had Dominic every step of a very scary, and painful journey to motherhood. I was also excessively swollen from the C-section complications, but I had no idea until I saw the pictures a week later. That's because my husband never gave me a reason to feel any different about myself. He loved me just as much then as he does today, 75 lbs. lighter I might add.

Our first Christmas as a couple, I took a picture of us and framed it with a short list of things I loved about him printed over the top of it. It's still in our office, and all of those reasons are still valid. Plus several more have been added since then.

So today's present is for Dom. A long, but non conclusive, list of reasons why I love him.

I love you because....

of those cute dimples when you smile, of your eyes, you like anime, of how you always feel guilty about Michael making a mess at a restaurant, you're picky about your food because you have taste, of how passionate you are about so many things, my opinion matters to you, you cry when you're sick, you always tell me about the things you find fascinating, the way you always seem to think your lap is the most comfortable place to sit, how you always want to play with our son, the way you make a bad day disappear, you read my blog, to you nothing is impossible, you're not finicky about disciplining Michael, you're a wonderful teacher, you can be silly a lot but serious when you need to be, you make me giggle even in the worst situations, you chose to stay in the navy for your family over going to grad school and pursuing a career in physics, you always drive when I don't want to, you're nice to fast food workers, you have an understanding of quantum physics but sometimes you need me to spell things for you, you got excited when I started painting again, you let me sleep in sometimes, I can tell you anything, you're my best friend, and because every day with you is beautiful.

Today's subject line quote is Faye Valentine, "Cowboy Bebop" (1998).

Tell me. What's your pain? What is it that makes the needle go in?

Wow. I actually don't feel like blogging today. Stop the presses, or the webmasters, or whatever is applicable here in the world of virtual media...

My point is that I nearly live solely for the express purposes of this blog. I judge my experiences on their bloggability and how difficult it will be to word them! So for me to feel like I'm being burdened to share my annoying account at Mega Gym today, makes me want to check my pulse.

Is it me? Of course it's me, it's certainly not the inanimate computer webpage's fault. But in what sense is it me? Am I getting bored with my life or is it the prospect of writing that's giving me a metaphorical wedgie. Just the fact that the last line I wrote was all I could come up with tells me that I need to pick the creativity out of my ass crack and not take up skydiving.

My senior year of high school I picked up a black and red journal decorated with Chinese symbols at a bookstore in the mall. I wrote in it compulsively. There were anecdotes and even whole poems written in drafts. They were really crappy poems, but there were tons of them in my head that I felt obligated to put down permanently before they fluttered out of my brain forever. Even the most minuscule of ideas was so, so important. Now the things in my head are just so, so.

Because my tiny, Mommy brain needs a break and is feeling quite broken, I won't be handing out presents today. If you'd like, feel free to share a gift with me! Go on. Leave it right there, in the comment box. That's it. Good.

Today's subject line quote is Ramon Salazar, "24" (2001) {Day 3: 6:00 p.m.-7:00 p.m. (#3.6)}.

I watch soap operas. I bake brownies. Normalcy is coursing through my veins.

Dom has returned safely from his trip and things have gone back to normal around here. Mostly. Unless you witnessed the hour long, ADHD play binge that Michael went on last night--things appear normal to you.

I, on the other hand, watched a 15 month old climb onto his toy box and dive off it repeatedly last night. We also saw him jog in place, stop and dance like Stevie Wonder, then try to climb in the toy box. It was the most revved up either of us has ever seen him. As disturbing as it was, it was also hilarious and a lot of fun for the whole family.

I'm thinking that a combination of chocolate chip cookies at snack time and playing with Dom after bath time got him so wound up. Michael was playing with his daddy in the office with one of those humongous (did I actually spell that right? Wow.) exercise balls. The were bouncing it off of their heads and chasing it around the room. Next thing we knew, Michael was bouncing off the walls.

Unfortunately, with the return of "normalcy" comes a stack of dishes in the sink so high that causes me to get a crick in my neck looking up at it. How can one man cause so much mess? It was so easy to keep the house clean when he was gone! I also had nothing to do all day/night so I cleaned constantly. Now that he's home, I find myself snuggling on the couch with him in my waking hours and snuggling in the bed with him during my sleeping ones.

I'm so happy to have him back home! Even if I have to do all of the dishes in the house twice (because they never get clean the first time). And since this weekend is valentine's day, I'm probably going to have a gigantimous blog in Dom's honor later this week. Or not, because once I mention that I'm going to do something it becomes a homework assignment and I never get it done. You're still waiting on the New Orleans blog, aren't you?

Don't be mad, have a present! This one is mostly for Eddie...


Today's subject line quote is Jackie-O, "The House of Yes" (1997).