I Have to Choose Just One?

I was listening to morning radio the other day while they were discussing a study done on marriage.  The claim was that most divorces would be avoided if a spouse would just eliminate ONE annoying habit or trait.
I started thinking about The Coach's (very few) annoying habits.

No Middle Ground - I have asked him before if he could maybe develop some mid level reactions.  Right now we get either 0 or 10.  Kill the dog?  Drop a candy bar?  It gets the same initial reaction from The Coach.  (Hypothetically speaking....we have never killed the dog to test this theory, but there was a guinea pig incident.)

Asks One Million Questions - He is a thorough person and that is a good thing.  In the process of being thorough though he asks 3,398 questions.  If I do not know the answer he asks the same question over and over worded differently as if that will make me know the answer.  Probably this wouldn't bother me so much if his son had not genetically inherited the trait.  He peppers me with a constant barrage of questions on a daily basis causing me to lose patience with questions in general.

Magazine Placement - I am not a good housekeeper and I do not care.  However I hate to have items lying around on tables and counters.  For some reason The Coach insists on fanning his Sports Illustrated out on our entry way table as if our living room were a dentist's waiting room.

I was having immense fun amusing myself, drinking my coffee, and mulling over The Coach's annoying traits when a thought slammed into my brain, "What annoying trait would The Coach want to rid me of?"
Gasp.  It occurred to me I may have annoying traits.

Morning Person - I start talking to The Coach the second he rolls out of bed and when he doesn't chatter back at me I am assume he is mad.  Maybe more annoying than the fact that I am so sparky at 5:30 am is the fact that after five years I can never remember that he will not really be awake until around 9:00 am.  Conversely I cannot usually keep my eyes open past 9:30 pm, yet I force him to go to bed with me.

Only Caring about Where the Magazines Are - Our house is not the pig sty is used to be, but The Coach would definitely like it a little cleaner. Contrastingly I am more concerned with blogging training playing with the kids and actually taking them outdoors and stuff.  I try to cover this up by having an emergency cleaning session when The Coach calls to say he is leaving the field.  I guess he doesn't notice.

After that it is probably a tie between my pajamas, bad breath, training complaints, and forgetfulness.

It is a good thing I can cook.

What annoying trait would you erase of your spouse's? 
And the more difficult question....What annoying trait would your spouse eliminate of yours?

Never Kiss a Gift Gun

From time to time I try to reward The Coach's awesomeness with a gift.
He is awesome with his athletic supported-ness, and his sexy mustached-ness

It never works out. Here is an example.

Idea: 
The idea was to buy The Coach something for Father's Day.  He bought me a cool bike for Mother's Day.  We got him one too and he said that is good enough of a gift. I have been spending a butt load of money to get ready for the cruise, so I wanted to get him something.  (Ok. The most expensive thing I bought was a 100.00 swimsuit, but to me that is a butt load of money.)
He wouldn't give me any hints and said not to get him anything.  We do the budget Dave Ramsey style so it is pretty hard to get hold of any secret gift money.  In the past I would skim money from the grocery money, but with Ty's current 4000 calorie a day intake that just isn't possible.
So I scraped up some allowance.  I fibbed about some gas money.  I Craig's listed some junk around the house. I cashed in our ATM rewards points and I was off.

Gift:
I headed to the gun store with my dad.  There were about a million guns there.  Ty was in heaven.  I knew The Coach needed a .20 gauge.  My dad found a few .20 gauge pumps.  One looked pretty good.  I really wanted to get him a over/under though as I have been intrigued by those since I was a kid shooting my dad's.  The shooter cracks it open after two shots and it spits the empty shells out.  Awesome.
Anyway I found a used one for 200.00 dollars more than I had scraped up.  (Ty offered to lend me the rest of the money.  Isn't he sweet?)  I decided to put the balance on our credit card we never use.

Interruption:
Hey.  You know...if you joke in a gun store full of nervous sales people packing major heat that your husband might get a text that the credit card has been used at the gun store he might not come home fearing a PMS induced murderous rage....no one will laugh.

Back to the story:
I filled out the paperwork for a background check, and all was going swimmingly until I got to the first question.  It said, "Are you going to be the sole owner of this weapon?"  It was a trick.  The penalty for fraudulently buying a weapon for someone else in Texas is 10,000 and ten years in jail.  I know because it is on billboards all over the city.
So I passed the background check and bought the gun.  My stomach was in knots.  The Coach would either be majorly excited, or majorly PISSED that I had put something on the credit card we never used.  I was developing ulcers while I waited to see which.

 The Problem:
When  I got home The Coach asked me to accompany him to the suit store to buy a suit he has to have for the cruise.  As we got into the truck he asked me, "Can I have that red credit card for the suits."  I calmly handed it over, but inside I was dying.  He never uses that card!!  It only has a low limit.  What are the chances?  I needed to smoke.  I don't even smoke.

He shopped FOREVER which is a whole 'nother post.  Finally he made his selections and we waited for the world's oldest and slowest sales person to ring us up.  I was in agony!  My newly developed ulcers were beginning to bleed.  Finally he slid the card through and started wrapping up the deal.

Then
He
Said

"I am sorry. That card was declined."

The Coach started to argue with him that there was a 0 balance on the card and I interrupted him saying, "I need to talk to you." I went outside and burst into tears.

Of course I had to spill the beans and explain I had bought him an expensive gift.  Of course he was not mad at me, but was very excited to get his gift.  I gave it to him that night.  I think he likes it.

It is tricky to buy a gun for someone who may be upset that you spent money!  Again..not a funny statement to nervous gun shop sales guys!!

What is the best surprise you have ever pulled off for your spouse?  Are you good at keeping a secret?

If there was an award for............

I have been regretting opening up my blog to The Coach.  He has written a couple of things that will remain drafts, but what he wrote this week I have decided to post because it is sweet and I am out of ideas. 

Enjoy.

I'M BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I asked Heather to write her Mother's Day post.  I don't feel it's right for a mom to write about herself on Mother's Day, she should have a day off, so I'm going to do it for her.  Besides she's busy cooking my Mother's Day lunch, cleaning the house, doing my laundry, taking care of the kids, and washing my truck right now.  HA!!!!

If there was an award for............

The Hottest Mom  my wife would kick  ass.  My wife is amazingly gorgeous.  She has given birth to five  kids and still looks like she's in her 20's.  Somehow (I don't know how and I think she's not all that intelligent sometimes), she manages to take care of five kids by herself for most of the year and still train for triathlon's.  It's amazing. 
She doesn't dress like a "mom".  She has very cute clothes.  So cute that I don't even have to pick them out for her anymore.  There's only been one time in my life that I haven't thought my wife was the hottest thing around.  That incident may or may not have involved a wedding, some wine, and some vomit.  I can't recall.

Most Items of Crusty Food in Car Heather would win this one hands down.  Before I start explaining this.  I understand her situation and basically living out of her car.  I don't want to hear any chirping from the peanut gallery.  SHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! 

I've never in my life seen someone's car such a disaster.  Seriously, when we pull up to a stoplight and there is a homeless man on the side of the road, I really just want to tell him that he can jump in the car. I'll drive around the block, and he can see how full he can get off the Pop Tart crumbs, 3/4 eaten sandwiches, middle licked out Oreo cookies, dropped french fries, half licked suckers stuck to the leather seat.  That's just from my wife's seat in the car. 

It used to drive me absolutely nuts that her car was such a mess.  I have since then realized that she is constantly in her car driving the kids somewhere.  She is awesome at getting the kids where they need to be.  They may be 45 minutes early, 10 minutes late or show up on the wrong day, but by golly, she's going to get them there.  She now does a pretty good job of cleaning it out when she gets gas.  I don't even say anything to her anymore because I know that she is doing the best she can do and she's not purposefully making messes to piss me off.  That's what I used to think. 

Loving Each of Our Kids in Their Own Special Way She would definitely win this award.  All five of our kids have their own personalities.  My wife finds a way to meet all of the kids needs.  She does piss one of them off occassionally but they all know that they can go to Momma and get some luvin'.  What she may lack in discipline from time to time, she definitely makes up in hugs and kisses.  She does a great job making them all feel special...even Tanner.

Wine Consumption She would probably win this one too.  Our wine budget used to be about $20 a week.  That's about five bottles of Yellow Tail Cabernet.  Now, because my wife can't function without a slight buzz.  (Just kidding!) our wine budget is at least $100 a week.  I don't know if it's that she is drinking more wine or that she is drinking a higher class of wine.

Wow.  Those are some dubious honors.  Let me just say. 

1. Thanks

2. chirp

3. Thanks for that too.

4. You are making me sound like a wino when the truth is that you started drinking my wine. 

I hope everyone has a great Mother's Day!

Sleeping Arrangments

Opposites Attract?
You bet they do.

The Coach and I are completely opposite in the areas of
Finance
Sense of humor  (Mine is fine.  His is that of a ten year old boy.  A socially misfit ten year old boy.)
Movie tastes
Sleeping Arrangements

This last one is by far the most distressing since basically people sleep every night and those other things only get brought up every so often.  (Although I am always funny.)

I think an acceptable bed time is 9:00.
He thinks an acceptable bed time is 1:00 am.

I stay up until 10:00 because I HATE to go to bed alone.
He goes to bed at 10:00 because if he doesn't I pout.  Then when he wakes me up a a cold woosh of covers at 1:00 I pout incoherently.  Then when he tries to get "some" pointing out that I am already awake (how else could I be pouting incoherently) I may become livid and not be able to go back to sleep.  But I will still not be in the mood for "some".

He thinks it would be cool to have a t.v. in the bedroom.
No.

He listens to his i-pod all night.
I snore.  LOUDLY.  (But in a very ladylike manner.)

He likes it COLD.
Therefore as I have discussed before I sleep in long pajama pants, a hoodie, and knee socks.
He thinks I should wear sexy jammies.
I think it is COLD.

He thinks he should get half of the bed as well as half of the covers. 
I say that if a person turns on not one, but TWO fans in the bedroom he obviously doesn't need any blankets and I will need the extra room on the mattress for shivering.

He thinks I should shower in between working out and going to bed.
(Ha.  Just kidding.  I do that.  Most of the time.)

I think that a nice "mood enhancer" is some cuddling or neck kissing.  Maybe reintroducing himself after baseball season.
He thinks a nice "mood enhancer" is turning off the fans before I come to bed. 

What are you and your "other" opposite on?

Snippity B

Yesterday I called for a vote on who should write about the tri coach firing/rehiring saga.  Those resilient folks who read my entire post claimed they wanted to hear both sides.  So.  Here it is.  My husband wrote this.  I interjected as needed.

As you may know, my wife has hired a triathlon coach.  I don't ask questions........I just tell her,  "Yes." whenever she wants something.  I think there may have been three times in the history of our relationship I've told her that she can't do something.

I am sorry.  I cannot write for laughing SO HARD.  Three times?  I am not saying the obsessive  over protectiveness is not sweet I am just saying, The Coach has a plethora of rules.

We vacationed to Hawaii when she was eight months pregnant, I told her she couldn't climb to the top of Diamond Head.
So there we were climbing to the top of Diamond Head.  We got about halfway up.  You would think I would have been concerned that she would go into labor.  Nope, all I was thinking, while trailing her and mentally writing my last will and testament was,  "Please don't slip and fall", because I don't think I would have survived her landing on me.

Really funny, Girl Scout Cookie Boy.

We ended up turning around and going back down.  We definitely got some crazy looks from people on the trail as we were retreating.  I just kept telling everyone that the mental hospital called and I had to get her back.  We couldn't be late.

The only other time I remember telling her no, when she wanted me to buy a pair of chaps.  After I picked my jaw up from the floor and looked in the mirror at my fat a$$.  My response was, "I'm not in the Village People. I'm not gay. I like women. Are you wishing I was gay. Do I need to hire a "pinch hitter" to wear some chaps for you?  Are you out of your f*$#^%@ mind!!!!!!!!!!!!! ?"

The Pioneer Woman's husband wears chaps.  I am just saying.  I wasn't imagining my husband gay.  I was imagining  him a cowboy.  Hello?

 Back to my point.  About 95% of the time my wonderful, loving, awesome, hot ass wife gets what she wants.  Seriously, she does a great job taking care of the kids and being the mom and dad during baseball season, so I have no problem with her getting her way most of the time.  Maybe I've spoiled her, I really don't know, BUT she now (not all the time, but most of the time) thinks that she must get her way with everyone!

I whole heartedly agree with the first part of this paragraph.  I'll have to give the second part some thought. 

For example this coach she hired (I hate him.......can't stand him.......would punch him right in the lips if I ever saw him........would pee in his gatorade before a race if I had that chance.)  I've never even met the guy.  I'm a coach, it's my job, I know how to coach and help my players.  This guy isn't a coach, he's some weenie with ears that writes triathlon programs, puts on races, and take people's money while being lazy.  He's worthless.  Heather would be better off getting reading tips from Stevie Wonder or taking babysitting tips from Michael Jackson.

Why wouldn't he have ears?  Don't we all have ears?
He has been helpful. but I didn't feel I was getting my moneys worth.  I did not sign up to be on a team.  If I were able to do that kind of rigid schedule I would still be wetting my pants at step class. 

Heather was all ready to fire him after this last race - you know the one with the 27 trips to the "port-a-shitter".

I went twice.

I was excited.  She was going to do it over email.  I was actually hoping that he would pop off to her in his reply and give me a reason to drive to his office and pimp slap his scrawny ass.
She emailed him and told him she was letting him go and his services were no longer needed.  I wanted to write the email.  She wouldn't let me (something about harrassment and jail time.)  He replied back, and Heather forwarded that to me.  I read it and laughed.  I also read her reply to him.  Then I walked out of the dugout at my game, called her and told her that she was a real snippity b!%^h in that email.

Her response was classic.  WELL.......I WAS TRYING TO BE!!!!!!"  I said to myself, "Self, at least you aren't the only one getting the royal treatment."  I would never say that to her.  She would pee in my Post Toasties in the morning.  I did tell her that if that was her goal, she most definitely accomplished it.

(My husband doesn't eat Post Toasties.  I would never TRY to be a Snippity B. to him.)


The tri coach had two main issues with the firing.
1. It was a shame I hadn't actually done a race before I quit so I could accurately assess the benefits of his training.
2. If I was unhappy why didn't I say something sooner so he could fix the problem?

I had two responses.
1.  I DID do a race the previous weekend.  His race.  He SAW me.  I went on to say that the fact he didn't seem to know who I was despite our repeated meetings was most definitely part of the problem.
2.  Fair enough.  I let him know that he does not communicate with me.  His services promise weekly progress reports.  I didn't get ANY.  I don't need to pay another person for the privilege of nagging them.  Furthermore I have better things to do than to log all my workouts so that I can get no feedback.  I told him I didn't hire him to attend scheduled groups workouts exclusively and he felt that was the crux of the program then we just weren't a good fit.
I went on to tell him if he thought he could fix those things I would continue service with him.  

Ultimately he did agree that he had not given me the attention I deserved and he outlined his plan to correct the situation.


In the end I got home from my game last night and we talked.  She didn't end up firing him.  She kept him on for another month.  I can't believe it.......actually.......I can.  I told her to give him another chance and maybe he'd make some changes.  If not, she can fire him next month and I might still get my chance to break him in half.

This post seems to have different points for each of us. 
The Coach's point - I am spoiled.  I can be a snippity B.  He wants to beat up someone.

My point - I should not have assumed  the tri coach could read my mind. (Why DO men have such a hard time with that?)  People sometimes deserve a second chance.  (Hopefully they won't need a third. )

Wrestling, Biting, and Innocent Baptists

It never ceases to amaze me how I can pile embarrassment upon embarrassment on myself until it threatens to topple over into a humiliating heap.

My Sister in Law and her husband both work at a Baptist Church here in town.  They are very sweet and live a sweet, non-embarrassing life.  They have four boys in elementary school.  The Cousins are great fun and a constant source of companionship to Tanner.  I went over the other day to clarify a text message from Sweet Aunt. (I have revived the toilet diving phone, but I can only see half the screen.) Sweet Aunt wasn't home, but Kind Uncle was. Tanner was already there (he seems to think they have taken him to raise.)  The Cousins and he were taking turns wrestling under the officiating eye of Kind Uncle.  His parents, ministers of a small Baptist Church in Kansas, were looking on with the proper amount of slight, tame interest.

I however was getting very excited.  It looked like great fun.

 I vaguely remembered having been asked (told) by The Coach to refrain from wrestling and rough housing with the boys.  He claims they are going to hurt me.  (As if...........)  I usually remember this request.  The last time I roughhoused with Ty he said, "Stop!  I am going to accidentally hurt you and then I am going to get in trouble."  So I usually remember to avoid wrestling, fighting, and so forth if not out of a sense of self-preservation, or out of  respect for The Coach's suggestions (demands) at least in an attempt to keep the boys out of trouble.

I wish this had been the case this time.

I yelled out, " I challenge Tanner!"  Because from what I had seen that seemed to be the proper protocol. Everyone laughed and I probably should have stopped right there.  Instead I actually went on to wrestle Tanner.  At least he does not weigh double what I weight like Ty does.  His twelve year old self weighs about fifteen pounds less than me which  I thought would work in my favor.  I conveniently forgot about the fact the child has wrestling practice four nights a week and spends a considerable amount of weekends at wrestling tournaments.  He knows actual wrestling moves.

We took our places.  He quickly twisted me up into a pretzel and I saw my triathlon career flash before my eyes.  I  did what any mature mom would do.  I bit him.  Apparently this is against the wrestling rules.  Everyone laughed while we continued to scuffle.

Then.

A hush fell over my four innocent nephews, my brother in law and his very proper, quiet, sheltered parents. After a sufficient amount of awkward silence I realized this episode had reached its full entertainment potential.   So I quit.   I waved a good bye to everyone and headed out to the car.

On the way out I commented to Ty I thought I had done pretty well, biting aside.
My oldest child replied, "You were doing a good job right up until your boob fell out of your shirt."
I was mortified.  I looked down and sure enough my vest was all bunched up and my bright purple bra was clearly visible.
I asked him why he hadn't SAID something.
He asked, "What did you want me to say?  Hey mom, we can all see your boob?"
YES!
That would have been helpful.
I asked him if anyone saw.
He thought for a second and said, "Kind Uncle gasped, 'Oh no!' and then he turned and looked away.  So I am thinking he did see."

(Imagine it like this.  Except for with partial nudity.)  ( I would be the one getting pummeled.)

Grrrrrr.
The worst part of this was that later I had to explain the huge bloody rug burn on my elbow to The Coach.  He just stared at me and said, "Didn't I ask you NOT to wrestle with the boys?"  Yes.

In  my defense though, he never asked that I not expose myself to all the Baptist ministers and young boys in the family in one fell swoop.

I blame Sweet Aunt.  Had she been there this would have never happened.

What is your latest/most embarrassing moment?

"The Coach" Speaks!

I always try to get The Coach to take pictures while I am racing.  He never does.  This time I told him if he would take some pictures he could guest blog.  We had to hash out the details, like how many pictures he was allowed to post of stranger's boobs, but we finally came to an agreement.  In a move I may live to regret.  Here's The Coach!

So the wife says that I get to be her guest blogger today.  Woo hooo!  If you have been paying attention to her blog lately, you know it's officially triathlon season.  I can hardly contain my excitement.  She wanted me to share the race from my point of view.  I gladly accepted.  So....................here goes.

The alarm went off at 3:25 AM and my dog looked at me and said, *"What the blue hell is that noise?  Is the house on fire?  Please tell me you aren't going to make me get up and go pee right now at this hour.  I promise I won't eat anymore of the cat litter if you just let me go back to sleep!" 
We got up, the dog peed, we loaded the truck and were out of the house by 3:45.  It's amazing when my wife and I go on a date I have to tell her we are leaving 30 minutes before we actually are, so she will be on time, but for a triathlon she's early.  I don't get it.

We stopped by the gas station so I could  mainline of this wonderful creation from God.  It is the only way I could possibly stay awake. 

For those of you who don't see 3:45 AM very often allow me to explain how early it is. 
In a city of 4 million people.  We passed one car on the road.
It's even too early for the fishing show to be on the radio.  It doesn't start until 4AM.  So for about 6 minutes of the drive we got to listen to some idiot talk about ghosts and alien life forms and how he was "butt diddled" by ghosts of alien life forms. 
FINALLY my favorite fishing show came on.  Heather hates it.  She thinks that the fishing guy is an idiot and is hard to understand.  She definitely thinks the people who call in at 4AM are idiots.  She voiced that at about 4:13 AM and I just looked at her and thought, "We are up at this time so you can go torture yourself for 3 hours and you want to complain about some fisherman calling into a radio show."  I didn't say that out loud because she would've either hit me or farted.  I don't know which one is worse at 4:13 AM.  I do enjoy the fishing show, but I really enjoy that she hates it.  It's part of my payback for having to get up at the ass crack of dawn.

Finally we arrived and I got to watch Heather's pre-race routine.  Some people pray, run a half-mile to warm up, stretch.  Not my "Hot Ass Triathlete", she runs to this wonderful contraption at least 23 times before the race.  I've finally just started putting my lawn chair right next to it (up-wind, of course).  I've thought to myself quite often that I'm going to buy a "port-a-shitter" company just for the sake of my wife's usage at triathlons. I bet I would be rich by now.

We finally made it to the start of the race, well, not actually.  Normally the swim starts from land, but this time they get to load this wonderful mode of transportation.  It takes them out into the Gulf of Mexico one mile and they swim straight in.  Well most people swim straight in.  If you tracked my wife's swim path it would looked like a very skilled cross-stitch.  She doesn't understand straight.  She's trying though.

 The funny thing is, we've been on this boat before.  Wanna know when?  Well I'm going to tell you. 
When my wife and I had been dating a while, I don't think we were married yet, she told me she had this wonderfully romantic dinner-date planned for me.  I was excited.  Figured it out yet?  Yep, this boat doubles as a dancing buffet.  She paid MONEY for us to go on this thing at one time and dance to a one-man band and eat school cafeteria food.  It was the worst date I have ever been on in my life.  Y'all may think I'm a jerk right now.  Don't....she will tell you the same thing.  **At one point in the date we both thought about jumping overboard and swimming a couple miles back to shore. 

Let's get back to the race.

While she was sitting on the boat getting ready to go swim her mile, I moseyed into an outdoor bar.  It was closed because the only people up at 5:45AM on a Sunday are God, us, and the most intellectual security guard I've ever had a conversation with.  I sat down at the bar and started watching Sports Center.  This bar is a pathway from the parking lot to the boardwalk.  There were at least 100 people walking through this thing. 
Well, Mr. Rent-a-Cop came in and asked me what I was doing.  I could've been a smartass but I simply said, "catching up on some scores.  How are you doing?"  He proceeded to tell me that I had set off the security system and I needed to leave.  I looked and pointed at all the people walking through the bar and wondered how they didn't set it off.  I guess I could've stood and watched TV but as soon as I say my ass down in the chair it set the alarm off.  That's one high quality security system.  After about a 25 minute conversation with "The Smartest Security Guard Ever", I made my way around the boardwalk to see my wife zig-zag her way into the shore.

I thought to myself,"what am I going to do for 3 hours?"  Most people could watch a full baseball game, or any of the Lord of the Rings movies, drive to San Antonio, or SLEEP.  I decided to wander aimlessly around Kemah and check out the sights.

The first sight I came across was a twenty-something guy sitting in a chair, watching the contestants swim to the shore.  He was on his phone, cussing up a storm and acting like Mr. Pimp Daddy.  In the meantime I was in a conversation with a woman who was about 6 months pregnant and I noticed that she was rubbing her back.  I guarantee she wished she would have stayed in bed for this 3 hours. 
Anyway, I asked Pimp Daddy if he would mind getting up for about 5 minutes so she could rest her back.  I got one of the most prolific responses I've ever heard in my life.  "I'm comfortable."  Wow!  I asked again even more politely and his response was, "Yo dog.  I'm comfortable."  I've never thought about getting into a fight at a triathlon, mainly because I'm checking out all the fake boobs.  It was all I could do to keep from throwing that scrawny kid halfway into the ocean and letting that lady sit down.  I simply walked away.....hoping he choked on his drink.

***I decided to go see Miss Cleo and have my crystal ball read.  Here's what she said to me.  "What's your name sweetie."  She's the psychic, why was she asking me my name?  She did tell me that I was going to have unlimited "kitchen passes" for a year because of my wonderfulness and awesomeness and athletic supportness.  She told me what an amazing and great a husband I was.  I already knew these things.  I was excited about the "kitchen passes".

I thought about going right next door to the "Love Specialist".  I soon realized that I didn't need any help in this department.  I was going to get all the "lovin" I wanted after this little jaunt. 

The race was finally winding down and my "Hot Ass Triathlete" was doing better than the last time she ran this distance.  Overall, I got to see her swim in, get on her bike, come back on her bike, start the run, stop and use the "port-a-shitter" mid-race.  I saw her about 2 miles into the run and she had just barely passed a contestant with a walker.  I was so excited I yelled that she actually passed someone.  The guy was not happy.  I laughed.

In all seriousness.  I am glad to go support my wife at her triathlons..........who are we kidding............I go for the fake boobs.  She knows it, I know it, why lie about it?  This race's "talent" was not very impressive.  There was, however, one lady who finished the race without a spec of makeup out of place.  Funny thing is, she was probably prettier without the makeup.

I'm glad for the experience.  My wife did awesome.  She was proud of herself.  I did learn something at this race.......next time I'm bringing my cooler and my fishing pole.

What does your husband do while you are busy with your hobbies?

So there you have it.  A race recap from The Coach.
*Our dog doesn't actually talk.  She does eat cat litter.
**I didn't consider jumping into the Gulf to escape.  It was February.  I do not like cold.
***These two paragraphs are completely fabricated.

Leave him some comment love if you want, but not too much.  I'll never hear the end of it if he gets more comments than I do.  :)

Crisis Averted

I got up the other morning at 5:30.  I am tapering so I got to sleep late.
I showered and dressed and walked into the living room at 5:50.  I thought I would finally get to school early enough to get some work done.
Ty was sitting in the living room dressed which is odd since he is usually the last one to roll unwillingly out of bed on a weekday. He couldn't sleep.  He requested I take him to school so he could lift.  I knew it would add ten minutes to my drive, but I agreed.

I went to wake up Tayte and realized he had wet the bed.  No biggie.  He is only three.  But discussing a shower and cleaning him up took another ten minutes. 
Then I had to cart his whiny self (he gets upset when he wets the bed) back upstairs to wake up Tanner, Saige, and Shaye.  I got Shaye dressed.

By that time I was running behind.  I had a quiz over Allied v. Japanese strategy in the Pacific to write.

The Coach was still in bed peacefully snoozing away.  I could feel my eyes narrow and I cold hear my breathe getting huffy.  I wanted to snatch the pillow out from under his head and smack him with it. Repeatedly. 
Then I realized he didn't know what was going on. He was peacefully unaware of the blips in that morning's schedule.
He woke up and leisurely walked to the closet to get dressed.

I caught myself thinking, "Must be nice to only have to get YOURSELF dressed."  I put the kids in the car and walked back in to say goodbye.  Snarky comments were flashing in my brain.

My more practical self finally won the internal struggle. 

I walked up to him and said, "Could you please start waking up five to ten minutes earlier so I could have some help with the children."

His reply, "Sure baby.  I'll do whatever you need.  You know all you have to do is ask."

Crisis Averted.

I sometimes forget he can't read my mind.  I sometimes forget that he is HORRIBLE at processing hints and/or body language.  I sometimes forget that he will do whatever I ask him to do. 
This has caused fights in the past as I feel taken for granted while I am silently struggling to do something on my own.

This morning however a fight was avoided. 

What keys have you learned to insure a harmonious relationship?

The Email that Got Him Fired

I felt my husband needed to be pestered today.  Mostly because he was "reminding" to mail a letter he had just given me that morning. As if "reminding" me in the middle of the day when I am teaching helps.  As if I forget things.

So I pestered.

I asked, "What is in the letter you want me to mail?  I can't mail it without knowing in case it is a letter explosion or something terroristy like that.

His reply: It is our Homestead Exemption and you need to remember to mail it to save on taxes.

Me:  Do you promise it is not booby trapped?

Him: I promise.  Would you just mail it?

Me: "I still do not trust you.  You have been acting all terroristy lately.  I noticed you got a new briefcase and shoes with a bomb compartment"

Him: Please send more incriminating emails to my work account, Heather.  That is great.

Me:  What?  At least I didn't write PANTIES we all know how much your work email hates that!

Him: Yes.  At least you didn't write that.

I could almost hear the audible sigh over the email.

 ( I did mail the letter and it seems he was telling the truth....it didn't turn into a dangerous gorilla or anything else destructive.)

My Original Title Sounded Dirty

The Coach can't resist a girl scout with a cookie order form.

He has so far ordered:
from Sarge's daughter - 18 boxes
from P$'s daughter     - 9

This in itself could have caused a friendly tension if they didn't know already he is nuts.  (Coach, next year how about ordering 15 from each?????)

He also ordered:
6 from Saigie's friend in the neighborhood
3 from the daughter of my co-worker.

Whew. 

He claims he bought this amount because there are seven of us, BUT he doesn't even keep the cookies in the pantry.  He keeps them in the bedroom on his side of the bed.  The kids have to barter their firstborn to get some. It is not like he wants to share.

Luckily for me I am allergic to most of the boxes he ordered.
How about you? How many cookies did ya order?  Which kind is your favorite.

Also....do you think it is a government conspiracy that these cookies come out mere weeks after most people resolved to eat better, lose weight, and stop stalking?  (Oh wait..that last one was just me.)

Proposal

In honor of Valentine's month.  I thought I would write about love. 

I have read the way a man proposes is the way he will also approach a married relationship.  If he is impulsive when popping the question, he will do impulsive-like husband things.

The Coach and I had been dating about three years when we started thinking about getting married.  Marriage is a big decision especially when one person in the relationship has three children and the other was a former youth minister whose very conservative Baptist parents believe marrying a divorced woman means the ministry will no longer be an option.

Anyway we had been dating for three years and we both knew it was time to pull the trigger.   The Coach is a control freak planner, but even after three years I didn't realize how this would play out.    Also, The Coach is never afraid to do "girly" things if that he figures will make me happy.

Early one morning in August The Coach came over and told me I needed to go get my hair done.  He likes my hair super short which requires a lot of trimming.  He was going to take the kids for pancakes while I was getting a haircut.  He told me to throw in a round of highlights too.  I got in the car and started to get ticked.  I called my mom and asked, "Who does he think he is?"  My hair wasn't THAT bad, and darnit I like pancakes.  Mom told me to go.
I went.
After the haircut, my hairdresser told me it was already paid for and handed me an envelope.  The envelope contained a card saying he realized my second job (a whole nother story) had ruined my nails and I should go get them done up with acrylics.  I went.  I got nails.  When I got ready to leave the salon owner handed me another envelope directing me to go buy and outfit and enjoy my day off of jobs, and kids.  When I was done shopping I was to meet The Coach and the kids at their usual fishing spot. 

I went and I shopped. 
As  I was walking up to the pond I noticed a small flurry of activity.  Saige's preschool little self was holding a teddy bear with a box in it's paws.  She walked up to me and said, "The Coach wants to know if you will marry him." 
I replied, "I might.  If he asked."   (What?  I didn't want to let him off the hook)
So he did propose and I did accept.

He told me he hoped I had enjoyed my day and later we were going to go to eat. 

When we got to the restaurant all of our friends and family were there.  He and P$ had organized an engagement party.  It was such a huge surprise.  I got to show off my beautiful ring.  It was so sweet that he had gone through so much trouble to orchestrate the entire thing.

Is it a reflection of how he acts as a husband?
Yes.
If his proposal means that he likes to take charge and plan things without interference.  Yes.  Double yes. 
Sometimes I tend to focus on the part of this tendency that leaves me feeling like he doesn't trust me to plan things, or do things on my own.  After five years of marriage though I have finally gotten a clue as to what is going on in his mind.  It usually is NOT that he doesn't think I am competent, but instead that he wants to make sure the kids and I are safe and taken care of. 
And how can you be mad at a guy for that??

Sweetest Husband

I hate to rat The Coach out when he tries so hard to keep up his gruff exterior, but it must be done. 

It is cold here today and raining.  Nothing like what is happening up north, but exciting for us none the less.  The power was out at our house this morning.  It was raining and the temperature dropped about 35 degrees in twenty minutes.

The Coach was out in the garage figuring out how to open the door with no electricity.  When I got there he had put his umbrella in the back of my truck.  I went to get it and put in up front, so I could maybe use it once I got to school.  He stopped me and said, "Here.  I will get it.  I don't want you to get dirty."

Wasn't that sweet? He takes good care of me.  I let him, because I am not dumb.

Of course he followed that up with some off colored comment about how it would be ok if I were dirty later.  Pervert. 

Sweet Pervert..........................but still.

How to be a Perfect Wife

On the radio the other morning they were talking about a nationwide survey.  "They" has asked married men to name their number one complaint about their wives.  The radio station was letting listeners take guesses.
Not enough sex.  No.
Talk during sports.  No.

I laughed when they revealed the answer.  The Coach has been complaining about the same thing for a while.

When I got to work I emailed him to ask him what HE thought the number one complaint of married men was.
Wives don't cook well?
Wives get fat?

Then I asked him to please not guess any more.  His guesses were liable to give me a complex.  (He claims he was thinking about what OTHER guys would say...not him.)

The number one complaint of married men in the U.S. (according to this survey) is that wives' sleepwear is unnattractive.

I told The Coach the answer and he acted as if the had just won the lottery.
We have had many discussions about my pajamas which usually consist of long pajama pants which may or may not be food stained and holey, a t-shirt under a hoodie, and knee high socks.
He says, "I have a hot wife.  I would like to see some of her."   (Isn't he complimentary while he is telling me my jammies are the ugliest things in the whole world?)

So I did a survey of my own.  It was limited in scope.   I only asked me.

Why don't married women wear cuter pajamas?
1. Sometimes I consider sleeping in the fridge as a warmer alternative to sleeping in our bedroom.  I can see my breath.  The fear of frost bite will never lead to a tank top. 
2. I had a cute pair of silky pjs once upon a time and the head honcho in charge of laundry (The Coach) washed them with a pair of jeans, a hacksaw, and a brick.  They are ruined.  (Also they didn't look good with knee socks.)
3. I would rather spend money on day time clothes.  Especially boots.  Maybe we could arrange for pj allotment every paycheck.  Just an idea.

Being the nice wife I am I bought a cute pair of shorty pajamas.  It had his favorite football team, The Texans, on it and every thing.  I put them in a box and wrapped them up to give him for Christmas.  He liked the pajamas, but was upset that I packaged it as a gift for him.  (He is serious about his Christmas presents.)

I guess the number 2 complaint of married men in the U.S. is.............cruddy gifts!

Question............Do you think this is TRULY men's biggest complaint about their wives?  If not..what?

R-Rated Resolve

******Let the title be your warning.*****


I was shocked the other day when The Coach walked up to me and hugged and informed me he had made a New Years Resolution.  He has never made one in the past.  I think it is something having to do with the fact that he thinks he is perfect.  (Just kidding...how could he think that when I remind him of his flaws on a steady basis.)

I asked what his resolution was as he was kissing my neck and he replied, "To have sex every day."

"With who?" I asked.

"YOU!" he replied shocked.

"That's too bad." I quipped.  "I resolved once a week."

(I just said that to mess with him.) 

He is very opposed to me writing this post.  He claims it is TMI.  The problem is he always wants to be the subject of my blog, but he rarely ever says anything PG.  He is often humorous, but it is always - BAD.

Here is an example of his bad behavior.
I emailed him to today and asked him if he planned to bring me back a surprise when he spends the weekend in Waco for Coaching School.
His reply.......


Yes.  Syphillis. 

See.  He is funny, but not appropriate.
And THAT should be the topic of his resolution.

(Sorry Mom, but HE is the one with a potty mouth..not me.  Ground him this time.)

Wedded Bliss

 Hey.  For the first time ever I am a guest blogger over at Mom Vs. the boys.   This is a charming blog.  It has all the good things, stories about sons, reviews, give aways, and even marshmallow snowmen.  What else could a chick need?  Head on over there while you are waiting for your cookies to burn bake. 


And now back to the show.



I have been trying to write a post to honor The Coach and my fifth anniversary. 

I considered writing about our first few dating experiences, but every time I try I remember my mom reads this blog.  Then I picture her hanging her head and muttering to herself, "I did the best I could with those kids."  I am able to picture this clearly because I have seen her do it before.  It's heartbreaking.  So in order not to offend Mom who skips kissing scenes in romance novels I decided to post the following conversation with The Coach.  I think it explains the romance in our marriage.

The Coach is often always gone doing coachery things and he misses happenings around house.  Missing stuff makes him nervous and sad, so he expects me to keep him clued in on everything that goes on in the house.  Nothing is too small.  His OCD/controlling perfectly normal self has been upset before over my failure to report squashing a spider, or maybe that the kids had to get their ball from the neighbor's yard. 

Here is a series of emails I got the other day after I forwarded a final exam review from one of Ty's teachers.

TC: Are you seriously sending this to me?

Me: I was just keeping you in the loop so I don't get in trouble for not informing you of things.  Crap!

TC:  Ha!

Me:  Yes.  Your OCD and control freakiness are hilarious.

TC: What would you do without my OCD?

Me:  Relax?  Drink less?   Your OCD is turning me into a wino.

TC: That is the first sign of alcoholism....blaming your problems on others.

Me: The second thing making me a wino is your judgementalness.

TC: Second sign of being an alcoholic...not listening to those who love you try to tell you that you are becoming an alcoholic.

Me: Hey. I am not an alcoholic.

       Alcoholics drink so much it harms their marriage. I drink to help our marriage.

TC: Third sign of an alcoholic...saying you're drinking it to make yourself or those around you feel better.

Me: Do you really think I am an alcoholic?

TC: Fourth sign is asking your spouse loaded questions

Me: Fine. I am an alcoholic. I can live with that.

TC: Fifth sign…….actually believing you are an alcoholic.

Me: Is the sixth sign no longer responding to your idiot spouse?

TC: I’m still responding to you!

Me: I have actual things to do.  Good bye.

TC: The sixth sign.............

Yes.  It is this kind of witty exchange that have made the past five years so wonderful.   

                                       (Engagement Pic.  Wedding album still packed.)

 

I love you, The Coach.  I know the sacrifices you made to marry me and my kids.   Not a lot of guys would have spent their early thirties that way.  (Yes babe, your early thirties are spent.)  I don't know what I would do without you...other than constantly lose my keys, my phone, my glasses, and my sense of humor.  I am so grateful to you have you around to nag me remind of important things.

Oh yeah and by the way. Yesterday the dog barked at a bird. I thought you would want to know.

Crud, my mom is still probably hanging her head thinking I drink a lot.  Mom, I don't drink a lot.) 

 

Cradle Robber

Apparently there is some New Kids On the Block, Backstreet Boys thing going on.  I am not really all that familiar with either band.  It reminded me though of a recent conversation with The Coach.

The Coach: [Boy Band] is coming to town.  Do you want to go?

Me: Nah.

TC: Which one of them did you like?

Me:  I really wasn't that into them.  I do not know their names.

TC: Yes you do.  How can you say that?  They were huge with the girls.

Me:  I think they were after my time.  By the time they were popular I was in college. 

TC:  No you weren't.  I was in junior high.

Me: Yes............... when you were in junior high I was in college.

TC:  No way.

Me:  When you were in the seventh grade.  I was a freshman in college.  (And then we counted together.)

TC:  (silence) (silence)  I am a stud!   You are GROSS!

How about you.  Older?  Younger?  My dad is exactly one day younger than my mom so he spends that entire day following her around calling her a "crotchedy old broad."  It just never gets old.

Boobies, Babies and a Blog

 My Mad Mind

If you are from the hops....Welcome.  Feel free to look around!

There IS an App for That

Here is a recent email conversation between The Coach and I.

Me:  Ack.  I have gained THREE pounds this week!!

Him:  Eat less.


Thank goodness he explained THAT.  I have always had a hard time understanding that calorie/weight relationship.  I am glad he was there to figure it all out for me.

Maybe next time I could get a, "I didn't notice."  Or perhaps, "Don't worry about it.  It's the holidays."  Or possibly since he just bought an app to alert him of my PMS schedule, he could have said, "Probably just water retention."

I will forgive him though since he is a man and likes solutions and since he tells me on a pretty regular basis how hot he thinks I am.  How sweet is that?

(My last two posts have been lengthy, so I thought I would throw in a quickie.) 

 

 

If you are here from the hops - Welcome and please take a look around. Drop me a note if you are a new follower.  I would love to check out a few new blogs.  Thanks!

I Got Answers

Well I invited everyone to guess what was wrong with The Coach in his picture.  I really enjoyed reading everyone's guesses.  They were quite entertaining.

Do you remember this post?  Of course you don't.  Why would you? That would take up space we all need to remember important things like our childrens' names and how much we weighed in high school.

Remember I warned you no one would get this.

The Coach is wearing a blue shirt.  I didn't even know he owned a blue shirt.  He coaches at a very red school.  His favorite baseball team is red.  He basically only wears red.  He owns 38 red windbreakers.  And apparently he needs them all.  Each one is for a different purpose.

Anyway since no one quite guessed it.  I promised to draw a name.

I had Ty do that and he drew Kendra at All And Nothing.  Congratulations Kendra.  Email me with your address and I will that Starbucks gift certificate to you right away.

Thanks for playing.

What's Wrong With This Picture - Contest

 What is wrong with this picture?  You will never guess.  

Let's make it a contest.  

First person to guess what is wrong with The Coach's picture will get a Starbucks gift card.
I'll give you some hints.

It is NOT that he is wearing white shorts after Labor Day.

It is NOT his fu man chu.  That is a lovely red and groomed to near perfection as always.
(I love a moustache.  Don't you?)

It is NOT his legs.  Aren't they nice?  I think so.  Sock tan goes with the territory.

It isn't his arms either.  It's perfection the way the freckles have run together to form a tan. 


So what do you think is unusual in this picture of The Coach??

I will take guesses until midnight Sunday.  First person who guesses wins.  If no one guesses  (And I would be very surprised if anyone did.)  I will choose a commenter at random. 

Give it your best shot!

New Do

WARNING TO MY BEST FRIEND, PREETI: Go read another blog. Click here. Noelle is a sweetheart and she has beautiful long hair.


I was off Friday and my birthday is coming up so The Coach decided to treat me with a hair do and a nails do before taking me out to dinner and a movie.

Super fun.

Here is s short history of my hair. (I know you have been sitting at home wondering, "What is the history of Heather's hair?")

This picture is about three months post Shaye Baby, but pre "hair leaping from head as if it were escaping the Titanic." If it would have stayed like this I would have been happy with it.

After I had Shaye Baby at least half of it fell out. Seriously when she was six months old I went to get a trim and the lady who has been doing my hair for a few years literally gasped. Up until that point I had a thick head of hair. It seems each baby takes a little more with it. It's only temporary though, so I figured I would stick it out. I had been growing my hair for three years and I thought if I just didn't look at it for long enough one day it would be beautiful . Ok. I would have settled for acceptable. (I was also willing to ignore the fact that when I exited the shower it looked like Chewbacca had bathed there.)


My hair started growing back in gray and kinky. So I had half as much and the new hair was gnarly. Lovely. I started coloring at home which probably didn't help the texture which reminded me of........hmmmmmmmmm. What did it remind me of? HAY! STRAW! BAD CARPET!

This was about four months later. The hair inspired the, "Bad hair? Show more chest" phase of my life.

I struggled through the summer mostly wearing pony tails.
When school started I agonized over what to do. I got a trim, but mostly left it.

It looked bad.
It felt bad.
It took too long to do. (Seriously if hair is going to take thirty minutes to do it should look awesome.)

That is pretty much three strikes.
Hair out. (Off.)


I would say my hair has been mostly short since kindergarten when my mom chopped me from waist length hair to a Hammel cut. (Spelling?)

My mom likes it short.
The Coach loves it short.
I like it short. I feel cutest with it like this. It is easy. Occasionally I worry that I appear old and
"butchy", but that is no worse than how I felt with the stringy straw hair. And a big honking pair of earrings usually fixes that feeling.

My best friend, Preeti, does NOT like it short. She hasn't since we were in the sixth grade.
We seem to agree to disagree on many things. She thinks I am trying to kill her when I attempt to talk her into doing a triathlon with me. I like to treat technology is if it were a passing fad.
My hair though seems to be a constant bone of contention!
I say, "Just cuz it long, don't mean it look good." - Poor grammar for added emphasis.
She says, "That haircut is ugly." She never actually said that. I imagine that is what she is thinking. (Cuz she has said plenty. Believe me!)

So here I am now.(Odd that in none of these shots can my nose ring be seen.)

What about you? How do you like your hair? Does your best friend agree??

(Notice I did NOT ask what you thought about the new do. In case you were going to give Preeti some more ammunition.)