DIP- 3 in 1

Parker is a boy after my own heart. He loves and lives for condiments. Chicken nuggets, fries, chips- these things were not meant to be eaten naked in our opinion. Instead, we would prefer if you have several dips available for us to sample using the above mentioned food merely as spoons for our dipping pleasure.


Psizzle has recently discovered the joy of making ordinary food taste oh so much better by completely drenching it and occasionally your fingers (although in Pman's case, more than occasionally and more like entire hand than fingers) in savory marinades, sauces and what have you.

This very morning I put a handful of Fruit Loops in one section of his kiddie plate and 2 tablespoons of Banilla yogurt in another section. He COVERED each Fruit Loop in the yogurt until it was one soggy blob. He sucked the yogurt off and plunged the very same Loop into the yogurt again. DISCLAIMER- My son is a double dipper and he does not care who knows it. He most certainly did not learn this from me. Josh??

Pmoney's new obsession is not really why I called this entry DIP. I was actually referring to Josh. You see, my husband likes to do this Stupid Husband Tricks. Occasionally he is able to receive compensation for the tricks, most often he does not. Meaning he acts like DIP on his own accord, causing me (and I'm guessing eventually our children) to hang our heads in shame. He also, unfortunately, is not drunk when he performs these...tricks. However, if he was drunk, at least there would be a reasonable excuse.

The Flaming Land Shark
Quite a while ago when J and I were just beginning our courtship, I was at his house. It was just J, his best friend Eric and me. E and I were sitting on the futon (seriously, a futon?) when J excused himself to use the facilities. After quite a bit of time E and I realized J was still in the bathroom. One or the both of us commented that it is not a good thing for J to be in the bathroom that long. Either we were going to have to vacate the premises immediately due to toxic fumes OR we were about the see something we never could have imagined.

It was the latter. I'm not sure if I am thankful about that.

Eventaully, Josh came streaking out of the bathroom- yes I mean both quick and naked. Yes naked.

Oh well, he did have a flaming length of toilet paper coming out of his butt.

He burst through the bathroom door, past E and I and out the front door while screaming, "FLAMING LAND SHARK!"

He he jumped off the front porch and landed in a puddle as it had just rained...or snowed...frankly I can't remember. Does it even matter, really? The flame was out- I mean that in many ways.

Drinking Brine
More recently, Josh has developed the habit of pickling things- okra, peppers, carrots, cucumbers...anything really. He loves them. I hate them. This allows him to get creative with his pickling excapades. About two weeks ago he made one with some random veggies, peppercorns, chili oil, apple cider vinegar, and what he describes as a TON of salt.

He brought the jar o' gross to a friends house where we were going to eat dinner and watch some football.

After dinner, after all the pickled veggies were consumed I saw something that still makes me gag a little. I was talking to the lady of the house and we were both behind Josh. I saw his head tip back and the pickle jar go up in the air. He was drinking it.

I thought it was just going to be a sip. He does this occationally, I guess to just taste the brine flavor (?)

I was wrong. He (as in it was his idea) made a bet to drink all the brine left in the jar- about 2 cups worth for...

TWO DOLLARS!!! Two freaking dollars!

He did it too!

He threw up the rest of the night. He may have done some other gross things too, I did not ask. I do not want to know. At 8:45 that night he was finally able to hold down some soup. I then made him do the dishes. I have no sympathy for someone who is sick because of their own DUMB actions. (I took the $2 too.) He then ate some ice cream.

Hands off ladies, this cowboy is all mine.

Photo Journal: Pumpkin Patch

Last weekend the Phillips pham went to a pumpkin pharm (sorry, I couldn't help myself!), Homestead Gardens if you're interested.  They had a petting zoo type thing, pony rides, pumpkins, and games.  This is a photo journal of that day.  Josh and I are going to visit my sister this weekend, so there are many clothes to be laundered and packed.  I would hate to leave you without a post for this week.  Also, nothing like pictures of a cute kid to boost a bloggers follower numbers (hint hint!)

Here's a picture of an actual goat, not our dog Abby. Although, if you have ever seen Abby, you will note the resemblance, yes? I'm thinking that is why Psizzle looks so happy in this picture, maybe he thinks we got another goat. Unfortunately Pman is way into tails, which typically are located close to the…exit door portion of animals. Thankfully, nothing untoward happened.

In these pictures you will see Cowboy Pman. He LOVED this pony, Casey is her name. I'm not sure the feeling was mutual. Note the lack of enthusiasm on Casey's face. If you find yourself going to Homestead Gardens, I have a few bits of advice- 1. Pay the $4 for the pony rides, it so worth it. 2. DO NOT pay the 4 extra dollars for the picture. We did thinking that meant we had to pay to take our own picture of our own son on the pony. It does not. If you pay the extra $4 they will take a picture and print it our right there. Don't be a sucker. Ya know, like us. 

On my hard drive this picture is vertical, but it will not show up on the blog that way (go figure!).  No matter, this is a picture of the corn maze.  It was waist high to an adult so we could see our children.  This is one of the funniest pictures ever.  Can you figure out why?

(In the mean time I will work on getting it right side up...)

In the top picture he was suppose to throw a ball into a cup.  He did less throwing and more dropping and won a yo-yo.  Confession: I am defeated by the yo-yo.  I have no clue how to make it yo-yo.  Every time I try the little plastic part just plummets to the ground and then I am forced to wind it back up again by hand.  No. Fun. This middle picture Josh says looks like Parker is grabbing his balls.  Nice, dad. The last one was at a play date whereupon he tried to eat the little pumpkins like an apple.  All the other moms seemed concerned, but when I just sat back and let him nosh, they all took pictures.  That's the Phillips- always happy to entertain.

How do you end a day at the pumpkin patch complete with pony rides? You go to an authentic German restaurant and watch a 3 person...band (?)...play the accordion and yodel. There are 3 people in this band, but I could not get the fat old lady in the picture. Rest assured you are not missing much. Every time she stood up off her stool she had a TERRIBLE dress wedgie- NO PHOTOS PLEASE!

Carry on with your Octoberfests and pumpkin picking!

Rock, Paper, Scissors

I feel the need to begin with a disclaimer.  Something happened recently that made me rethink this whole blog thing.  My plan was to write still, but not making it public.

BUT

I love that I have 17 followers.  I can't believe people I do not even know read this blog!  When you tell me that I  made you laugh, I am over the moon.  However, this blog is more or less for me and my family.  I started it to created a timeline of event, milestones and feelings I have in my journey of being a wife and a mother.  If some thing offends you, I'm sorry, that is not my intent.  I feel censoring myself takes away from the orginial intent/spirit of this blog. 

I've spent too much time explaining myself already.

Moving on-
Last weekend Josh and I had a Parker-free weekend.  He went to my parents house for boat rides, cotton candy (for dinner) and SunFest.  J and I had to pick out doors, knobs, countertops, faucets, flooring, appliances, lighten fixtures andthe list goes on- for the house we  will be moving into.  When the design center called to make our color appointment they said it took all day and no children are allowed in the building.

Sidenote: If I had told Josh, "Hey the design center called about our color appointment..."  I bet he would have thought I was forcing him onto some version of "Extreme Makeover" thereby causing him to run and hide like a woodland creature, never to be seen again.  Go me for not wording it that way

Leading up this meeting, the only other time we have really had to pick things out together was for our wedding.  We pretty much planned the whole thing about 3 months, not because we had to, but because it was that easy.  Because of this, I was not at all nervous about picking things out for the new house.

Once we got to the design center we zoomed through the outside items- brick, door, windows. 
Flooring- a breeze! 
Kitchen? Puh-leeze, mere childs play for us. 
The master bathroom- easy squeezy.

After picking everything we liked, we saw the new price of the house and elimiated some things. With the smoothness of a hot knife cutting through butter, we shaved about five grand off the final price.

Four hours after we walked in, we were getting back in our car.  All day you say? Not for the Phillips.
No Josh and I are not so in sinc that we immediatly agree on everything.  No I did not bully Josh into hot pink counter tops. 

For this (and our wedding, and picking movies and whether or to have chinese or pizza for dinner) we played a round of rock, paper, scissor. One, two, three shoot.  No 2 out of 3, no do-overs.  It's a one shot deal.

For example: I wanted darker counter tops in the kitchen, Josh wanted this sage-y color.  Both looked nice.  One, two, three shoot.  Sage-y counter tops it is.

People are always shocked when they see us do this and stick to the choice or the winner.  It is as if they don't really believe what they are seeing. To me the amazing thing is that nearly every time Josh and I do this, we throw the same thing out first- be it rock, scissors, or paper.

The key is to respect the RPS.  Once a choiceis made, it's made.

Another good hint is to not do this about major issues or if you have strong opinions either way.  If you HATE Thai, but your honey wants to go to Lemongrass for dinner, RPS, won't make you like Thai.  I also do not recommend RPS to say, decide whether or not to have another baby.

It relieves tension. It's quick and avoids a potenial arguement.
In the words of the DJ Lance and he alien-like toy things on Yo Gabba Gabba- Try it! You'll like it!

Time to Kick Some Ass

We recently had a run-in with a kid who is older than Psizzle- 2-ish.  We have been to two other places with this kid and I observed behavior that I did not like.  The most recent encounter involved this kid being mean to Pman.  The kid pushed/grabbed from/hit him several times until P was crying.  I'm actually really (REALLY) upset about this.  I like the mom, but the attendance of the little...one...at future outings makes me question my own. 

So.

Rather than dwell on it or rehash the entire thing, I will post a story from my past that speaks volumes about how some people close to me, not me, but those I know, handle conflict.


WARNING: This is a true story and therefore I will be telling it as it actually happened. Harsh language is involved- an F-bomb or two. Honestly, saying Fudge! or Fiddlesticks! does not have the same impact. Proceed with caution.

When I graduated from Salisbury with my undergrad, my older sister- Megan (M), a friend of ours- Meghan (H) and I went on a cross country trip together. The trip lasted a month and we put ten thousand miles on the car. There are many stories, this is one of them.

We were on the return portion of our trip and planned to stop in Wyoming to visit friends of M's and camp out in Yellowstone National Park. Of course, as we are pulling into the Park, it starts raining- not pouring, just a heavy drizzle to rain. We decide to forge ahead and camp anyway. After finding a proper location, we popped up our tent. Even though we had camped before on this specific trip, "us" popping up the tent usually meant H did the major portion of the work, while M and I watched and pretended to know where this pole or that stake belonged. After the tent was up we figured it would be best to fashion a sort of canopy over it using a blue tarp and several bungee cords. I wish I had a picture of this because there are no words that would do this masterpiece justice. Attempt to picture it though- the tent was just big enough for the three of us and over top was a HUGE blue tarp that was bungeed to the surrounding trees with various colored cords in a spider-web pattern. We threw our sleeping bags in and though we were wet and more than a little muddy, we headed over to the dining hall for some grub.

While there in our sweat suit finest, we were invited by one of the cafeteria employees to a "party" later than night. Having nothing else to do we took him up on the invitation- he had a kind face- and decided on a meet up time.

Since we were camping and going to a "party" thrown by someone who works at the Yellowstone National Park cafeteria we figured muddy sweats were perfect attire. We were wrong.

These kids got decked out for this party, which by the way, ended up being about 30 people sitting on soggy logs in the shape of a square with a bonfire that gave off the same glow as a 5 year olds birthday cake. There was one guy with a guitar and a CASE...A- case...24 beers being passed around. M, H and I looked at each other and nonverbally decided drinking wine out of the bottle in our dark, wet tarp covered tent was better than this.

We thanked our host for the invite and headed back toward to road that led to the parking lot where our car was parked and head back to our tent. As we walked away we heard warnings of buffalo and bison and deer- Oh My! (or was it elk?  no matter)

The walk back involved walking through an fairly empty field and up a very steep hill. M and H walked side-by-side and I was about one step behind them. It was very dark, but not pitch black. A spindly guy in an oversized fatigue jacket walked passed us. He was headed in the direction of the party and said something to the effect of us heading in the wrong direction because the fun was about to begin at the "party". The three of us more or less ignored him.

Soon after, we passed a tree- in my memory, it was the only tree around, but logic tells me that cannot be the case- H grabbed a branch off the tree. M asked, "Why did you do that?" And for reasons I still do not understand I replied, "Don't worry, she'll use it." It should be noted the branch just happened to look exactly like a gun.

After what felt like seconds, but was likely longer, I heard something behind me. I turned to look and it was that spindly guy running toward us. He was running so fast his jacket was flying behind him. Truth be told, I was the shortest of the three of us and I was taller than this guy. His waist was about the width of my thigh- pre baby- dude was small. Anyway, I see him running toward us, so I yell, "It's him!" while pushing through and past M and H. I did not stop running until I was up the hill, which at this point was just a few feet away. I must have pushed my sister on the ground because when I got to the top of the hill I saw her on the ground like a dead bug.

I saw H crack this guy twice in the head with her gun stick. While screaming, "I'LL FUCK YOU UP MOTHERFUCKER!"

While the man's defenses were compromised, H ran up the hill to meet me.

By this time M was getting up and saying to the stick victim, "Look, you're just freaking us out."

He's freaking us out? This tiny douche bag just got cracked in the head with a stick, TWICE for running in our direction. He didn't say anything. He never made any threats (up to this point). We were all taller than him by at least 5 inches and outweighed him...well by some amount of poundage. There were three of us and one of him and HE is freaking US out.

M steadies herself and meets H and I at the top of the hill. As she is running toward us, stick victim is calling us crazy bitches and telling us he is going to find us. Now, if you have never been to Yellowstone, it is HUGE- it was dark, it was rainy. Aside from knowing we were from Maryland, there is no way he or anyone really could "get us". Not to mention our tent was surrounded by many others and was mere feet away from the bathroom. If anyone attempted to "get us" they would not be successful for the simple fact of the very public location of our tent. Plus H still had her stick.

We ran to our car and headed back to our tent. After a conversation recapping the recent events, we drifted into quietness and each thought the others were sleeping. However, we were all in a frozen state of paranoia. We eventually each thought we heard either footsteps, breathing or whispering- which we probably did, I mean re-read the previous paragraph about the location of our tent. Instead of toughing it out we folded up the tent, tarp, bungees and sleeping bags and threw it in the back of the car and rolled out.

I got pulled over for speeding and I must have seemed very freaked out because the cop wrote down my story and told me to watch out for bison and let me go despite not being about to produce my licensee as it was in the mud tent heap in the back of the car.

The next morning as we told our story to M's friends we realized, perhaps we reacted, or overacted a bit. Maybe he was running for another reason. We were headed in the direction of the mess hall, where he likely worked. We envisioned him the next day serving crappy chicken parm nuggets to some Yellowstone cafeteria go-er with two huge welts on his forehead.

To the Yellowstone guy I say, sorry.

To the kid who is mean to P, I say- please keep your hands to yourself.

A Photo Journal of a Rainy Day

Last Thursday it looked like it was going to rain at any point.  I had an appointment to get my hair cut (it looks the same despite paying more than 50 dollars) and I had to do some work.  I had a sitter set up for Pman for the afternoon.  Since the gray clouds were looming overhead, I decided to dedicate my time to Pmoney for the morning.  This is a photo journal of that fateful (read: very tough) day. 

First, we ate breakfast.  He is very happy in the morning and will gladly throw his hands up in the air when you say, "Where's BIG BOY?" signaling that he, in fact, is big boy.  Beware- he will throw his hands up in the air REGARDLESS of what is in them at the time.  Food and toys have been known to go hurdling across the room.

This was taken mere moments after the previous one, but doesn't it look like I ran this kid ragged all day?  Honestly, this non-rainy rain day was no good.  I was the one who was run ragged.  Our house is small, but doing 389 laps in an hour in a 10'x10' space chasing a toddler, is surprisingly tiring.  Shortly after this photo was taken he went down for a 45 minute nap.  I figured he would take a nap in the morning, but I was counting on it being later in the morning and a bit longer.  Like at least 45 minutes longer than it was.

"Seriously, are you going to be in my face all day with that thing?"  Recharged after his (way) too short nap.  I think he looks like he is about to rip the camera out of my hands.  I know this is only the third picture in the sequence, but it was probably the 23 one I had taken.

Lego Crawl

He likes to play with legos- thank you whoever got him these for his birthday.  Well, play is probably not the correct word.  He really likes dumping them ALL out and throwing them around the room. He seems to like the noise they make- or the yelling noises I make as he lobbs them at me while I duck and cover behind the couch.

The good news is he does actually put them away.  He does this with bath toys too.  It is quite possibly one of my favorite things about him.  It comes so natural to him and it is SO me.  He may look like daddy, but personalitywise, he is all mama!

Apparently this generation is not meant to hear the word no. Apparently we parents are supposed to "redirect" negative behavior and praise positive behavior yielding a generation of rule abiding, appraisal seeking people pleasers. When I was not dodging legos I "redirected" Psizzle away from the sliding screen door that leads to the deck that he opens. I have found him a couple times on the deck digging through the recycling, plant dirt, and generally scaring the crap out of Abby, who spend most of her days on the deck (who can blame her!) After one of these deck visits he came toddling back into the house holding a beer bottle. When I yelled at him...I mean asked him to put the bottle back, he looked at me and with a completely straight face put the bottle up to his lips. In this photo he was just "redirected" away from the deck. This means it is time to walk to the front door and pull on the runner on the side table by the door. You know the one with heavy wooden box on it and lamp- yea that's the one. Redirect my ass! Eventually we were both sitting in the middle of the living room floor- crying

Snack Time!

Do you know how hard it is to take a picutre of a 15 month old eating a banana that does not look wildly inappropriate? 

After I did my afternoon errands and picked Pfunk up from the sitters, he came home and took a nap. 

For two and a half hours. 

He went down at 3:30p.m. This nap time is atypical at this stage in the Pman game.

While he slept it (finally) started drizzling out. I put some crap in the crock pot for dinner and settled in the watch my DVR'ed episode of...well I'm almost too ashamed to tell you...One Life to Live.  Around 6 Josh called to say he was almost home.  I checked on dinner as I talked to Josh. 

Know what?

If you put raw chicken, potatoes and carrots in the crock pot at 4p.m. it is not ready by 6p.m.

In fact, it is not even close.

I told Josh we would have to meet him at Neptunes (local pub) if we wanted to eat dinner that night.  I had the best intentions, but pub grub is where we ended up.  Thankfully the place can be a bit loud and the patrons are usually very wasted, so a cranky mommy and baby went hardly unnoticed.  Every thing went fairly well, but I will say Josh had a beer AND a dirty martini with dinner.  What about Pman you ask?

Well, because he apparently was not in the mood  for chicken tenders or fries or anything else we offered him and because I just could not fight it anymore, my son ate cake for dinner that night.  Go ahead call the authorities who govern obese children. I give!

Also, we skipped his bath that night- and the following night.  Sweet Jesus, please don't turn us in!

It's a Sign

Try saying the word spoon slowly about 50 times in a row. Eventually, you will not even know what you are saying or what a ssspppppooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnn is.

Do this with virtually any word- cccchhhheeeeeeeesssssee, wwwaaaaaffffffllllllllle, mamamamamamamamaand- you will have the same outcome. This is what it is like trying to teach your nearly 15 month old son to speak.

We tried doing the sign language thing. I actually used to take sign language classes and worked with some deaf children while I was in high school. I even applied and enrolled to a college (Bloomsburg University in PA) that had a great sign language program. I really wanted to be a speech therapist or work with deaf children in some way. In the end I freaked out and felt like I was pigeon holing my 17 year old self. I dropped out before I even started and went to community college for a year. All of this leads to prove that I am open to sign language. I am just too lazy, I guess.

I tried teaching him the sign for more, but that is very similar to clapping. We were going to story time at the library where clapping is a prime activity among the birth to 2 year old age group. I feel like he will clap more frequently throughout his life, than he will need to sign the word more. I gave up the signing and encouraged the clapping.

The sign for please looks sort of like patting your chest. Parker's looks like he is waving. Eh, close enough.

To tell someone you would like milk you make a loose fist and move it in a slight, but quick squeezing motion. Parker makes a (very) loose fist and kind of flicks his middle finger against his thumb. Whatever, I know what he means.

The signs for thank you and eating look similar. To sign thank you a person moves their hand from their mouth outward. To sign eat you kind of make a bird beak looking shape with your hand and move it toward your mouth. Either way, Pmonkey just puts his hand in the general area of his mouth. Good enough...

He does the sign for done pretty well. I think this is mainly because he enjoys sweeping all of the unwanted food onto the floor, which is similar to the motion for done. Good work son!

God help him if he ever encounters an actual deaf person. They will likely think he is challenged mentally. The good news is when the deaf person if calling Parker dumb, my son will likely think he is being offered a cookie or something.

Along with his make shift sign language he is starting to say a few words. He will tell you that a duck quacks- actually he will tell you everything quacks. He will say, "woof woof" if you ask what a doggie says. He was able to tell you cows moo, but apparently cows are retracting that statement because now they quack, according to Parker. Why do they regress like that? One week Parker will be all sign language and animal noises. The next week, when I try to show (off) to other parents, it's crickets from Psizzle. Cat got your tongue?

No, cat's don't quack either!

Another development I have noticed is ever since he started eating solid food, he is the BIGGEST mooch! I cannot eat anything without this kid getting his grubby face and baby hands all over it. Even if I give him a bite of what I am eating and he does not like it, he is still all grabby about it.

Every morning I sit him on the counter while I get my coffee and his milk ready. Usually he plays with a plastic spoon and a paper cup in a drum-like fashion. The other day he reached into the fruit bowl and took little mouse bites out of one of the apples. Think he liked the skin? That a big fat NO. Want to guess what he did with the bits of partially chewed apple skin? He left those slobbery little bits all over the counter. Want to guess how hard it is to pick up tiny bits of slobbery apple skin? Well...it's not easy

He will eat noodles now- which is a new development. I mean really, what kid does not like noodles? Up until about a week ago, the answer to that question was Pman.

I have heard my own mom and many others say something to the effect of them not being restaurants and therefore the family is to eat what they have prepared or go to bed hungry without dessert. That is all well and good, but what do you do for a sometimes picky (nearly) 15 month old? I swear I make him 2 or 3 things for breakfast every morning and he will eat about 2 tablespoons worth of food. Occasionally I give him Instant Breakfast before he goes to bed if he does not eat a lot during the day, but I'm not a restaurant and he will (eventually) have to eat what I make whether he likes it or not or go to bed hungry without dessert!

That may seem like a good ending to this entry, but I have a short Josh story, which are always good!
Last night I went to dinner with a friend, so Josh was on his own for the night. Earlier that day I went to Walmart and bought packages of Ramen noodles for 16 cents each (!!!). I called on my way home and Josh said he just got back from the gym and was making dinner. When I came home, I saw what Josh had fixed. In one bowl I saw that he had prepared veggie soup for himself. IN ANOTHER BOWL I saw Ramen noodle. Just to be clear, Josh simultaneously ate two bowls of soup for dinner. There are so many things wrong with this, I can't even begin to explain. I hope I do not work nights when our kids are older and if I do, I will be sure to put a casserole in the freezer or something. I mean TWO bowls of soup? AT THE SAME TIME!?

Once Upon A Time

Confession: Josh and I met through the computer 12 years ago. Some of you may think we met either in college or through a mutual friend. You probably think this because one or both of us told you those lies. We are embarrassed that we met online.

I know, I know- a lot of couples meet online nowadays, but when Josh and I met we were 17 and 19 and no one was meeting ANYONE face to face that they originally met via computer. Also? neither of us had any sort of online dating account, I'm not even sure they existed, and we cannot really remember exactly how it is we met.

Any way you slice it we have been in each others lives for 12 years and today is the 3rd anniversary of the day we got married. We started out as computer buddies, moved onto phone friends then long distance daters. We broke up shortly after. Then both ended up at Salisbury University and even had the same major. Although we never had any classes together, our paths did cross occasionally and at one point I said to a couple different friends, "I wish Josh Phillips would stop calling me."

Side note: Both of the people I said this to were eventually in our wedding!

I was once at a party...rather one of the parties I went to during my tenure at SU, I met one of Josh's ex-girlfriends. I did not know who she was prior to the conversation, but after a slurry exchange of "I knowsssssommmme rugbyyyy playeRs too! Who doyouknow?" We realized we both knew Josh. When the X asked my name and I told her, "Nikki." Her face got all scrunchy and I could tell , right at that moment, we were not going to be friends. She stared at me for a beat and said, "Oh. You're THE Nikki."

I was right. The X and I never spoke again. However, there were several times when we were both the only ones in the gym. The 10'x10' gym by the pool, of the appartment complex, WHERE WE BOTH LIVED! Awkward... It does get better though, the X and I also both dated a guy named Andy, whom I fairly sure she eventaully married. God does she want to BE me or what?

Later when I asked Josh what THE Nikki meant, he told me the X was jealous of me because he talked about me a lot- good move Josh. He also told me he did that because I was his Pipe Dream. (So sweet, right?!)

He graduated a year before me, so when I graduated I called him and basically said, "Now what?"

The answer to that question was apparently- date Josh Phillips.

Flash to 4 years ago- I was living in the house that we currently occupy with Pman and Abby Goat. However, I was living here with a roommate because I did not want to live with Josh until we were engaged. When my roomie told me she was moving out to live with her fiance, I called Josh and said, "Should I find a new roommate, or will you be moving in some time soon? [Code for: when are you going to pop the question buster!]" I told him I could afford to live in the house by myself for 3 months, then something would have to give.

Sometime in the middle of September (about 2 months after my roomie moved) Josh and I were painting the room that would eventually be ours. It was a beautiful Sunday and Josh kept whining about not wanting to paint. He eventually talked me into taking a break and having a beer on the deck. He was wearing some gross gauzy shirt and a John Deere- mesh back hat. I was wearing old jeans, blue Crocs and had sage colored paint everywhere from my hair to my face to under my nails (and somehow, on the bottom of my flip flops).

Josh got down on one knee, said some very sweet things and showed me a ruby ring. I replied by telling him to "SHUT UP!" and asking, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING??!!" Somewhere in there I said yes and killed my Miller Lite so fast I truly do not even remember drinking it.

About a year later on that same deck, Josh met Nair for the first time. He has a hairy chest and apparently does not like it, so he decided he wanted to remove the hair via Nair before our honeymoon. It was not pretty but it was hilarious. First of all he rubbed it in, even though on the bottle it clearly states in big letters, DO NOT RUB IN. The bottle also suggests finding a hidden spot to administer a test patch. Josh picked several test patch areas. Once the hair was removed, these patches made a nice crooked smiley face pattern on his entire torso. Yes. That is better than a hairy chest. Good work, Phillips.

Since our relationship began online, we felt somewhat comfortable planning portions of our wedding that way too. For example, we had awesome wedding invitations, but the RSVP's were to be send to an email address I created. We also picked our reverend through the Internet. Again, I'm not sure how exactly I found him and I am not exactly sure why we stuck with him. We attended this group pre-wedding marriage counseling thing that was led by Rev. Tousey- we eventually just called him The Tous [The Toss]. It was at these sessions where we discovered The Tous was a recovering alcoholic and DIVORCED! Nothing against divorced people, but maybe they should not lead pre-marriage counseling sessions! The Tous missed our wedding rehearsal and was late to the ceremony. He was not invited to the reception- we were serving alcohol. That is all I needed at the reception, a drunk reverend running around telling people how much he thinks marriage sucks.

Truth be told, I love being married. Sure, I'll never have that rush you get when you first kiss someone good night at the end of a great date. I won't have to worry if he will call the next day or concern myself about making a good impression on his friends. I eagerly traded all that in for security, happiness and stability. New adventures in my life will not be met alone, I will have Josh with me. Although I usually guide the way, (mostly because I can be a bit controlly and Josh let's me) I could not do that unless I had him- not someone like him, but Josh specifically- behind me.

Also: Welcome to my newest followers! Thank you and may you have a splendid day!