I don’t have any idea when we first met. None what so ever. You’ve always been a constant in my life, thanks to our fathers’ friendship. You have simply always been.

I remember you as a boy with feathered hair and a grimy face, wearing an orange and brown striped tee shirt and dirty jeans.

I remember you as a flirtatious teen wearing blue denim and a smear of grease on your cheek.

I remember the way you rocked our first born to sleep while holding her in the palm of your oversized hand. And the way you tossed our babies up into the sky to hear them squeal with delight.

I remember the way you looked when you slept beside our Shale, the two of you snoring softly.

And I know I’ll always remember the image of you holding Jumbster as the two of you sit on the couch and yell “Goooo!” at the hockey players on the television screen.

You haven’t changed much in the lifetime I’ve known you. Yes, you’ve grown taller, and seemingly you sprouted whiskers and chest hair over night. But besides the crinkles in the corner of your eyes and a pound or two around the waist, you are still the same boy I once knew and fell in love with. You are still generous and kind; mischievous and good natured; intelligent and irritatingly rational.

You are still my Boo. And no matter how you age I will always see you as the young man I fell in love with so very long ago.

Happy 37th. I love you. Still. Always. Forever.

14 years ago. When we were babies raising babies.

First there was one.

And now there are two.

I can’t decide if I want to drink or if I want to vomit.

Either way, I will never have to drive again.

Congratulations Frac. I’m proud of you kid.

Look who got his driver’s learner’s permit.

With the start of spring break coinciding with my husband’s rare monthly appearance at home, he figured he should spend some quality one on three time with his beasts. I took this to mean the four of them would be sacked up on the couch, engaged in one video game battle after another.

I was wrong.

What actually happened was he shut the television off and herded everyone outside to pick up dog poop. It was glorious. I no longer have to watch where I step and my television finally had a chance to cool off. There are times I’m worried it’s about to set fire to itself from overheating.

My yard is now ready for our annual two weeks of summer. Or at least it will be once I finally get around to doing the one thing my husband left on the list for me to cross off.

Boo will do almost anything for me, but he steadfastly refuses to do this one, itty, bitty thing. He figures since I wanted it, it’s my problem.

I’m just glad he doesn’t extend that personal rule to our children, yo.

So ya.

I’ve still got to take down Christmas wreath. I figure if I get it done before Easter it’ll be a holiday miracle. Either way, I’m still doing better than last year.

It’s not that I’m lazy. No, this is just my way of starting a new family tradition.

One that doesn’t require picking up any poop.