Polyamory (from Greek πολύ poly, “many, several”, and Latin amor, “love”) is the practice of, or desire for, intimate relationships involving more than two people, with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved. It has been described as “consensual, ethical, and responsible non-monogamy”. The term should not be confused with polysexuality (attraction towards multiple genders or sexes), although the two may overlap in individuals. (Source: Wikipedia)
Ah, birthdays. My youngest daughter turned 6 yesterday. 6. Like, now she needs 2 hands to show people how old she is. I’m struggling with this just a bit.
We had a birthday party for Bria on Saturday. Invited the whole class, 3 kids came. The theme was Frozen. Yeah, I know, shock. I found a 4’9″ tall inflatable Elsa balloon, and got Bria an Anna costume to wear. All was good, Bria was thrilled with party, guests, gifts, cake, etc.
There’s one kid at every birthday party. That ONE kid that you seriously think they were raised by wolves. You also gain a decent idea of why wild animals eat their young. This particular little demon pointed out to Bria that she only had 3 kids at her party. Repeatedly. This demon also refused to leave the circle when she was “out” during hot potato. Meanwhile, Dad just sat there completely absorbed in his phone and said absolutely nothing. And, suddenly, it all makes sense.
More birthday stories coming soon. My oldest daughter turns 15 on Friday. Yeah. Don’t even get me started on that one.
Ahh, the children.
So cute. So innocent.
So full of germs.
Who can resist the cuteness? The cute pucker lips just begging for a kiss. The overly enthusiastic kisses, dripping with drool. The insistent sharing of food (but, Mama doesn’t WANT a half-chewed-on smooshed Cheerio). And, my favorite, the coughs and sneezes. Directly into my face.
Gotta love them.
So, this year, Halloween has been spent cleaning up vomit, wiping boogers and dodging projectile snot. And Mama is down for the count.
Meanwhile, Daddy, who has been the primary butt-wiper, booger swiper and vomit-cleaner-upper remains unscathed.
One could almost hate him.
How cool! Check in, folks! Roll call of locations, please and thank you.
…a journey of the unknown. I’ve always had an interest in blogging, but had no idea what to write about. Suddenly it came to me: my life is insane and at times unbelievable. So, I’ll write what I know, right?
I have a husband of 11 years. Our relationship hasn’t always been perfect, but it’s been a hell of a ride. He came equipped with a gorgeous redhead. She became my firstborn, never mind the inconsequential details of not birthing her. Summer is 14, and the teenage angst is fully in motion. We acquired a little girl. Bria is 5 going on 19 and just started kindergarten. During a two year separation, our youngest came to be. (Rob’s, never mind the inconsequential details of not fathering him.) Brayson is almost 2 and his goal in life appears to be giving his parents grey hair. Quite a feat, considering Rob is bald.
Now you know the main cast of characters. Buckle up, folks. Let the adventure begin.