...to this man:
Know who he is? If you do, you know he is to be loathed and feared. And if you don't, well, you're lucky... and I'll tell you. His name is Ony-tay Orton-hay. Written in a little language I made up so every weirdy who googles his name won't end up on my blog. And if you're weird enough to google his name in pig latin then, well, we're supposed to be friends anyway, so, welcome.
Anyway, Tony here is the guru behind the P90X fitness program. And I've been letting him kick my flabby kiester every single day (except Sundays, of course) for the last month. And whenever I'm anxiously engaged in skinnifying, it takes so much of my physical and mental focus that I fail at every other part of life. Especially blogging.
So anyway, that's my excuse. And I'm sorry.
There are a few things that can't go undocumented about February, though, and one of them was our 6 year anniversary! Hollllaaa!
Sam has had to be out of town for our last two anniversaries, so, naturally, this year we planned up a day so crazy and romantic that we're fairly certain people would have paid cold hard cash to be able to watch it. We were even going to leave our kids with OTHER people. Dream big, folks!
But then, a roided-out head cold ravaged our little household and pretty much lifted it's leg all over our little scheme.
Not to fear! Feeling a little pep in my step on the morning of our big day, I asked Sam if he wanted to try to do anything.
He sat there contemplating for a second and then responded all hopeful-like:
Hmmmm... you could shave your legs?
.................................................................................
Ummm. Keep dreaming, Sam. It's winter.
BUT the sexiest wife of the year award goes to ME. Obvi. And I'm happy to report that my efforts to keep his expectations nice and low are really paying off, my friends.
After all that exhausting brainstorming we decided we were too sickly and pathetic to do anything so we stayed in and tried to out sniffle each other. You may think I'm joking but every time I blow my nose, Sam starts to cough and hack and sputter to try to prove he's more miserable than me and therefore, still should be waited on. This little back and forth charade generally escalates and then ends with me faking a seizure.
Anyway, the point is, that stupid cold killed our anniversary. And it stuck around so long that on Valentine's Day we played a little game called, "Pretend it's not Valentine's Day!" Sam's pretty good at this game--he's played it before.
Leah made this cute card for Sam while he was at work--it says "I love you, Daddy" on the front and on the inside she had me write while she rattled off everything she loves about him. Cutest little Valentine on the block.
And then we had pink eggs and heart shaped sausages and V-day candy for dinner--and then I took pictures of my little herd, stuffed and all snuggled up together. That's Sam's "fat n' happy" face.
The Saturday following V-day, Sam and I had a little make-up anniversary date... and it can best be summed up by my facebook status the day after:
"Yesterday, for our anniversary date, Sam and I played a rousing, trash-talking game of tennis... then we went grocery shopping. If you're thinking that doesn't sound romantic, think again... because he smacked my butt, like, three times."
Secretly it was really fun and just what the doctor ordered.
Warning! OBLIGATORY PUBLIC PROCLAMATION OF LOVE AND ADORATION!
Sam is still my very favorite. Happy six years! Again!
Moving on...
On February 19th, Sam turned 32 years old! (See why the documentation of this month was so necessary/stressful??) And we celebrated with another smokin' hot date (to the gym!), food and presents galore. And carrot cake cupcakes...
Happy Birthday to Sam! Seems like just yesterday I was holdin' you in my arms, rocking you to sleep...
Lately, Leah has been practicing her photography skills. Every day, at least once, she positions Baby Eve and me in a formal Olan Mills pose and takes our picture. Here is the latest:
Pretty much the only reason I'm telling you this and posting this picture is because I actually have make up on in it and I feel it's important that my posterity (and you) see evidence of me out of my big blue nighty.
Meanwhile, this one has been staying up all night and then keeling over at random intervals during the day. I love her new schedule!
And finally, our fall-weather winter went rogue for a few hours and made all of the Turkey Sub's dreams come true....
I ventured out to capture some of the magic and was immediately betrayed...
Seems Sam used his time out in the snow with Leah to his advantage--behold his cold-hearted little assassin.
And there you have it--our fabulous February... now I'm off to pump some iron. Because simply focusing on this post for this long has threatened to shove me right off the wagon.
But do me a favor, would you? If I start posting my workouts in my facebook status, put me down. Thanks. Luff you.
