Please, DON'T help me.

Me no good mood today. I've been up since 5am, so that right there puts me off. I don't sleep much later than that, but still! I tried to fall back to sleep after Pickles woke up but The Dude was snoring so friggen loud I just couldn't. So I got up, ground the coffee beans, put the pot on to brew and hopped in the shower. Yay! A shower! I haven't had one of those in FOREVER!
I wake up the still snoring Dude, hand him his coffee and let him know the shower is all his. I head to the kitchen to finish any lingering dishes from the previous night, switch the clothes in the washer to the dryer, pull out the clothes from the dryer and fold those bad boys. It's about then that I hear the twins arguing (6:30ish). Twin B is demanding that Twin A get up and open the door for her. Twin B still hasn't mastered that little skill, so she's at the whim of her sister. Twin A refuses and there is a fierce fight going on. Finally, I hear the door swing open and Twin B appears...all smiles.
I meet their demands of milk, vitamins and a waffle and head back to the kitchen to fix The Dude a breakfast quesadilla. I barely get a thank you before he sits down and pulls out MY laptop. I'm not being a biotch here. It is my laptop. Our bosses bought it for me so I could work at home during my maternity leave with Pickles, and for those days that I'm without a sitter. Currently, my desktop at work is out of commission so the laptop is my only computer. I had it packed up and ready to go, then HE takes it out to play games.
"Please make sure that gets packed up before I'm ready to leave." I even said that nicely.
"It's only 7:30. Chill out," he groggily tells me.
I rolled my eyes because I can already see how this morning will play out.
By the time Pickles rolls out of bed I'm ready for everyone to be dressed and ready to head out. The Dude picks up Pickles and sets him on his lap. He offers to screw up the process help, by dressing Pickles himself. GREAT. This will slow me down by at least 10 minutes.
Twin A rocked this morning. She got herself dressed, socks, shoes and all, AND was ready to go without any complaints. Twin B would NOT get shoes on, no matter how much I begged.
As I ushered Pickles and Twin A to the car, The Dude breezes by me, muttering something about being late for work. I take a step back into the house to holler at Twin B when I see it. Surprise, surprise, my laptop is sitting on the table next to The Dude's chair. Of course he's long gone by this point so I have to get all the kids buckled in AND re-pack my laptop. Is he trying to make my mornings more difficult?! I swear!
After lots of tears over Twin B's missing blue cape we discover the cape was actually IN the car already. Geez.
I made it to work, only 9 minutes late today (new record). Oh, special treat, FIL's dogs are here this morning. Lovely. I just LOVE my office smelling like a combination of feet, Frito's, and vomit (one of the dogs has this allergy that makes her stink SOOOOO badly). Stellar day I tell you, stellar.

Least productive work week in Louisiana

I'm thinking the rest of this work week will be fairly non-productive here in Louisiana. Now that carnival season has come to a close, it's back to real life. Bahahahahaha! Crawfish season just started! People down here LOVE crawfish and having crawfish boils! Just another excuse to invite people over and drink beer. So, all being good Catholics, they'll abstain from meat on Fridays, instead opting for massive amounts of boiled seafood and beer. Not really a sacrifice as most of them would choose boiled seafood over meat most days.

Not me man. No seafood for this little chick. Ewww! I'll just munch on the other items thrown in the boil: potatoes, corn, mushrooms so spicy your lips burn, garlic, etc. Hmmm, not much of a meal there is it? Crap, I lose again.

Lemmie show ya some pics of our paradin'.

Does anyone else think my breastestes look stupidly big in this picture? I swear, looks bigger than Pickle's head! THIS is why I want a reduction people!Shortly after this picture was snapped, Twin B pulled back and declared, "Ok, that's enough. No more kisses or hugs." Ah, the love was short lived.

I know of two, yes TWO people that broke their jaw at parades. One poor little baby (2 yr old) fell out of the back of a pickup that he was watching the parade from. No, the truck wasn't moving. He's already had surgery to insert a metal plate in his jaw as it was broken in 3 places. Poor kid. Another lady knew someone on a float and caught their attention. It's common practice to "bomb" any parade watchers you're friends with. This entails throwing ridiculous amounts of beads and other throws at your friends. Beads are packaged in plastic bags in a gross (12 dozen necklaces). Those bags easily weigh several pounds and are what you're "bombed" with. I've seen children in tears after getting struck, people knocked down, you get the idea. This unlucky lady took several bags to the face, followed by a full beer can. Yes, you read that right. They threw her a beer. Not at all unheard of. When The Dude rode in a parade several years ago (pre-children) he tossed me a beer or two as he rode by. Anyway, the beer struck her square in the jaw, breaking it. Yipes!

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I am SOOOOOOO happy my husband is one of those fix it type guys. My washing machine decided to just quit working mid cycle (full tub and all!). Thankfully he had the door switch changed out and the load finished within an hour. Sweet! Later, when talking with an acquaintance, I realized how luck I am when the guy said, "Oh no. Dude, when a washing machine quits working, I'd just throw it out and buy a new one." Wow, seriously? Yes, seriously.

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It came out in discussion last night that my boss a.k.a. my father in law is kinda holding The Dude back at work because, get this, he's scared that if he sends The Dude to out of town things that I won't be able to "handle the kids" by myself, and I'll complain to him. Um, what? A.) I can handle my children on my own just fine, thanks; 2.) FIL is the LAST person I would ever complain to if I were having a hard time caring for the kids. Here's a thought: if you (FIL) think that I might be having a hard time with the kids, how 'bout you and Mamma In Law take your grandkids every now and then. Novel idea huh? Or, just make the 1 minute trip over to our house to help out. Oh I'm sorry, that would probably interrupt your social life. My bad.

The B.I.

Seven years ago today, I reluctantly accompanied my then best friend to the Brandin' Iron (more affectionately referred to as The B.I *must have strong southern twang when you say that) for her birthday.
"Seriously? That's where you want to go?! Why? All they have there are "cowboys" and Marines."
Friend, "Yep, that's where we're going."
Me: "Damn."
My other friend and I sat at our little table and scoured the place for any decent looking guys.
"That one, there. He's mine," I say.
"Fine, I'll take his friend," she concedes.
Total hottie. Blue sweater that hugged his ripped up body, blue eyes and a killer smile. I totally threw THE LOOK at him for what seemed like forever. He wasn't making a move. What the crap?!
So, I took matters into my own hands. Another friend was gonna ride the bull (yeah, it was THAT kind of place), which was directly behind The Dude's table. I "accidently" shoulder-checked The Dude as I walk by, flash a smile and a wink and perch myself in front of the mechanical bull.
A few minutes later he comes over and rattles off some lame pick up line...crickets...
"Good Morning Beautiful," by Steve Holy comes on. I LOVE that song. I told him I was going to dance and he could come too, if he wanted. So that is "our song" now.
At the end of the night he asked for my number. I gave it to him. You should have seen the looks on my friends faces. I didn't give out my number, ever. He was convinced it was a fake. I assured him it wasn't. He gave me the sweetest kiss on the cheek and the rest is history.

I love you Dude.