I GOT NOTHIN'

Some weeks the blog material flows from my brain as easily as the cracked out ramblings from Charlie Sheen's mouth.

Other weeks it does not. This is one of those weeks.

But because I don't want to look back over my blog and think we did absolutely nothing, I'll post a few things I want to remember.

I love to sing.

I can't sing. I'm tone deaf.

Not to be confused with Tone-Loc although if I hear Funky Cold Medina on XM you better believe your sweet tush I'll belt it out with all my tone deafness.

When my children were babies it didn't matter that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. They just seemed to like it when I would sing to them. Apparently now that my youngest is at the ripe old age of 4, it does. I was singing the other day (although B tells me it's more like yelling) when Reid says, "STOP IT. I don't wike you songs."

Whatever. They know they really love it when I yell sing. :)

Last week started baseball practice. We had a couple of batting practices at our house last week then the first practice at the field this past Saturday. With the exception of a kid or two (one in particular who was crying because he wanted to play in the sand as opposed to actually practicing baseball - his dad left mid-practice in utter frustration) we have some really sweet kids and families. I'm looking forward to getting to know them better. I'm competitive by nature so I love that aspect of it, but more importantly it's something we do as a family. It's good family time together, and Chris and the boys are doing something they enjoy. I just love it all.

One last thing...

If there's one valuable lesson I've learned over the years it's that things aren't always what they seem. I just hope our pest control guy has learned that lesson. Because when he sprayed our house last week and walked past my bedside table, this is what he saw:

Yes. Those are handcuffs. And no, they are NOT mine. Nor are they Chris'. Ewww. We did not put them there. Those are courtesy of my parents who bought some for the boys the other weekend because they love to play "puhweese" [police] as Reid says. I guess since they weren't something I was going to trip over, break my neck on, or something that, if not disposed of, would eventually turn into penicillin, I didn't even notice them.

Maybe the real lesson to be learned is to conduct a thorough once-over before you send in the bug man.