The Latta Family

Ever since Alexa arrived on our scene, Andrew has claimed that a little brother would be better.  I have been unable to convince him that sometimes little brother's can be real pain in the rear ends too.  He's insisted, a little brother would be WAY better, until last night . . . Last night we went with our rec league to the Charlotte Knight game.  There were lots of parents, coaches, and kids that we knew.  We sat in front of a couple of brothers from another team.  They were 8 years old and . . . maybe 6?  The little brother was bugging the hell out of his big brother.  He wasn't doing anything, that any other little brother has never done before.  At one point, he was dropping ice cubes down his big brother's shirt.  There was a LOT of tattle tailing going on.  I was laughing.  (Other kids misbehavior is always funnier than when it's your own kids.) At one point, Andrew leans over and whispers, "Man, they're doing a lot ...

Folks, I must really like the way my foot tastes because I sure do eat it a LOT.  The other day a lady stops to talk to me about Alexa's curls.  She thrills my vain, shameful soul and says, "I just love her sweet curls!  I just want to touch them!"  I smiled and said, "I understand.  I love them too.  However, I am fully prepared for her to break my heart one day and cut them, or color them some weird color, or some other atrocious act."  The lady smiles understandingly, and points to a teenaged girl standing next to her with teal colored hair, "You mean like this?"  Doh!

Thirteen years ago, I doubt Doug and I imagined a rainy Sunday morning with kids racing around the house with Hulk hands, screaming and tackling each other, sticky with syrup from our waffles at breakfast.  On this day 13 years ago, Doug proposed.  Lord, it took him forever.  I don't know why- I prove continuously how delightful I am.  ;-) We had dated for well over a year.  Again, I don't know what the hold up was.  I knew within two weeks of hanging out with him, I needed to look no further, he was It.  Looking back, I am glad we dated for awhile.  We both knew what we were getting into.  We knew I was a neat freak, Doug . . . not so much, we knew how each other grieved (or did not- in my case), we knew how we handled stress, we knew how we made big purchases (I buy immediately, Doug takes over a year to decide). As far as I know, the biggest surprise after we got married was, I was not a morning person.  Doug wakes up...

Andrew has recently begun to act more aggravating than I am capable of sanely dealing with.  Alexa will be playing quietly (really) and some random, testosterone driven compulsion will over take him, and he'll run in and scream "BOOOOO" at her, until she's screaming like a banshee and then he'll walk away as though nothing just happened.  Alexa will jump up and run in to tattle on him, "ANDREW SCARED ME!!!"  (thanks- I couldn't tell- by the abrupt and violent end to our peaceful moment).  Or yesterday evening I was bending over planting some plants and he sneaks up behind me, and smacks me on the rear.  (I have perhaps confessed before, we're a bottom smacking family, the trouble is- Andrew is starting to smack hard.  It really hurts.  Smacks that hurt, are just simply unacceptable.  Smacks for fun . . . totally cool.) This morning Doug was sitting on the couch eating his cereal.  Andrew ran to the couch, just bef...