the pressure was mounting...

Men.  Is it me, or are they completely, unequivocally and totally different?  Again, the love I have for my husband is grand, huge and just plain overflowing, however, he also makes me crazy.  The kind of crazy that makes me want to wring his neck.  And wring that neck HARD!  Our level of functioning when we argue or fight is pretty fantastic, but every now and then, we hit the "get out of my face" functioning.  Do you have those?  Please tell me I am not alone in this.  We got in a "tiff" on Saturday night, and here we are Thursday, and that lug is barely unloading the issue, GOD!  I figure that to be a gift.  The kind of gift I wish would stop giving, ya know?  I've ridden this boat before, and the almost five day itch is always his breaking point.  And true to form, the right kind of what I like to call "snuggle and grab" always gets him talking.  With that said, rockn this boat I'm on, always, and I mean always calms the raging seas.  I think you get where I'm going...needless to say, MEN...they're just different, completely different.  I mean, in all my life, in all my experience as an adult, in all that typical male verbiage you hear on the radio and see on the tube, I believe it safe to say that it is just true, well sort of.  The way to a man's heart is through his tummy...no, wait, actually, the way to a man's heart is always fulfilled through sex, it is your ability to make them feel worthy of your feast, however, that keeps them around.  Who's with me?

I'm sort of behind when it comes to posting pictures of what has been happening on Ese'me Street, so forgive me, because, although my posts may be somewhat current, the pics are somewhat not :-/  Cindy is about to birth a baby boy, and we are all very excited.  We through her a baby shower, and again, turned to Pinterest for help.  And the idea that jumped out as baby shower gold was the "Little Man" theme.  I guess you could say we ran with the idea, divided up the responsibilities and slam dunked that sucker.  Many a shout out are due and will follow accordingly.

It all started with a little photo session...thanks momma Cici for obliging, and moreover, for your editing genius

Then there was the invite, thanks Etsy

Cici may be having a boy, but a petal is always on her priority list, and Jenni made sure to follow through, thanks girl...  My mom and I made the runner and bow tie adornments for the flowers, thanks mom

In keeping with the theme, we thought it suiting for everyone to have a special name tag, thus the bow tie was formed, again, thanks mom for helping me with these

The trouble with having tons of great ideas, is that you are left with actually doing them, so again, I must give another shout out to my mom for helping me with this onsie garland, she is a way faster sewer than I



Oh how our palates will never be the same...momma Campbell and Elizabeth donned the chef hats and served up a sick feast, thanks ladies

Moisten much

Desserts #1 & #2, even though those cake balls were in the background, they are still haunting the foregrounds of our belly's, thanks Jenni, you tha bomb

A little sweet nibble for your way home, thanks Picnik (see you on google very soon)

Wouldn't have been a party without any of you, thanks for coming

Basically, four color/patterns decorated the venue, and it was those four fabrics that maintained our palate throughout the baby shower.  There were two gingham's, one green and one blue, then two other fabrics, one orange and then one baby green.  Those fabrics made up the runner, the bow tie name tags, the bow tie vase adornments and also the appliques for the onsie bar garland.  That, and the many petals that Jenni arranged, with her sweet tooth guiding the dessert path, and momma Campbell and Elizabeth donning the chef hat, this baby shower was able to happen, and happen well.  It is also very important to point out that this baby shower took place at one pretty amazing place, and had it not been for two pretty amazing people, Krystal and Tommy DeAlano, this shower would have never taken place, so a very special thank you to you both.

the obvious is right in front of you...

Have you ever noticed those women who have phenomenal bodies, anything they put on looks fantastic?  The wedding dresses they dream of putting on, THE ONE, is everyone, at least to us observing?  Do you think if we were able to create a mental fitness, chisel our emotions and flatten our insecurities, we could form fit anything soul worthy to feel as amazing as we only desire it to appear?  I wish it was that easy.  I wish that the fat and cellulite that has managed to live in my mind, would burn away.  Sometimes I feel our best emotional workout is who we choose to surround ourselves with.  Those ridiculous friends you have, you know the ones, the ones that leave you thinking, "why are we friends again?"  I used to have this one friend, we aren't friends anymore, however anyone who ever met her, the inevitable question was sure to follow, "what do y'all have in common, how is it that y'all are even friends?"  I couldn't answer it then, couldn't really see it then either, but sure as hell can now.  She was my fitness friend.  She then, was my brain cardio.  I couldn't appreciate the workout then, but my method of thinking and being is lighter because of her now.  When Marcus and I got married, the normal stresses a bride has, didn't accompany me to the site, but the thought of everyone there not enjoying themselves, or what if ____ and ____ don't stay long?, was what consumed me.  I was more concerned with the fact that there was a very strong possibility that my side of the family would let me down, that my maid of honor (same girl mentioned above) had never held her end of the bargain on many levels, wondering if my mother in law would even look my way.  My emotions had taken a front seat in "feel sorry for yourself" 'ville.  I didn't know then, that my mind was in the marathon of a lifetime, and those days then, that night in particular would be a prerequisite to my life now.  That night, my father's side of the family, every last one of them, let me down.  Writing the details of the event here now, will serve no purpose, other than add a few pounds to my already overweight self esteem.  My maid of honor was an utter joke, laughable really, the amount of mental lag I gave her and my mother in law followed suite.  I have let it all go, and moved on, but feel it fitting to honor those that made our night amazing.  My immediate family were dreamy, they were really fantastic...my mom's family TO DIE FOR, love them and am appreciative of everything they did, but who really saved the night, were my husbands family, both matron and patron alike.  Below are a few of them doing what they do best, DANCING.  It was a cousins husbands 30th birthday, and it served as a wonderful time for us to gather together.  It also served as a reminder for Marcus and I as to what favor we carry with those that manage to push us on our emotional treadmill, the kind of workout we welcome and long for.  We can't get this kind of love anywhere but here.

Did I mention it was a surprise? 

Dancing yes...Drinking, yes and yes...

You can count on these two to work it till the shoes come off, and they did

It didn't take much for the furniture to go, and less for them to take its place

Look who decided to join in on the fun

Looking forward to the fact that it will never get old :-)

While we were in Houston, we made plans to see Allyson, I used to work with her at Parkland, and she is just about done with grad school, so proud of her.  On a side note, I'd be even prouder if 'ol ball sack would propose already...needless to say, Adan had a ball, seeing as how he hasn't seen her or Katie, who just so happened to be in Houston too, another grad schooler just about done, since he was months old.  These two are sweet loves of mine, and getting to hang with them both was so fun.

Katie with Adan, 'bout 4 months old

Look at 'em now

Sweet Ally...you know, just a few secs after this, sweet Adan let Ally have it with a little something I like to call VOMIT!

These two, like they never spent time apart

We also decided to spend a little time here and goof off a bit...kinda nice to not be behind the camera, for once.

See what I mean. If I could get from behind the lens, I could enjoy more of this...be still my beating heart

In addition to being an NBA Baller, NFL All-Star, The Tennis Ticket, Golfings one and only True Grip and whatever else there is...he will also be an Explorer and discover something magnificent

Stingrays, nuff said

And to do this great city justice, we also ventured into a place that would prove to give Adan a run for his money.

He's just proving that he is as strong in Mars as he is here

Who needs to fly to the moon when we got the moon right here, just a few hundred miles away

Blast off! And you can, as a matter of fact, you really can, for the bargain price of a gillion bucks...the for profit is the way apparently

So turned on...my husband, always finding a way to look at an engine, better that than ladies I guess

When you get the chance to endure and share

your life with your husband, you should gladly declare

that all which is past, and all which is present

takes love and experience, to rest in assurance.

We can't look back at those that pretend

to break of the bread but only instead,

give away the remnants and hold on to the true

garbage we never even wanted in lieu

oops, I forgot to do this first

I have been song jumping like a mother lately.  I mean jumping hard.  Why?  I get into these stretches of emotional dumping and music tends to carry a wondrous canopy, and I tend to fit snuggly beneath it.  If I could add runs of melodious sound to my writing, I'm convinced I'd see you jump into my life harness free.  I struggle with the amount of love that I give away.  Why can't I get the love back?  Is it because I carry a tiny print disclaimer that isn't necessarily visible, however hidden in the fine lines of my face, ironed into the lining of my brain and etched into the desires of my heart?  I have been blog free for a few weeks now, and it has created an anxiety in me that I haven't felt before.  It was a stress to provide quality, filter free and raw life moments that I have recently had, then find a clever way to share them.  Is that stupid?  I can answer that!  Yes, yes it is.  I find myself searching for something on a level that isn't nearly comparable to what I have in real life, real time and real now.  It's pathetic the amount of energy I give the "lacks" in my life, when it's so obvious that I have the abundance below.

We were invited to dinner with the Zitouni's, friends of ours, some weeks ago, and everything placed before us was from scratch...and everything put in front of us, we ATE

Baby Zitouni's with baby Adan

Funny thing, after we ate this...

...she brought out this...and then that yummy tart-see above...in addition to opulent other desserts.  Did I mention all from scratch?

We went to a pretty amazing place, also, a few weeks ago, and my husband got major kudos for coordinating the whole trip.  Adan loved it, and I'm pretty sure, if you have children, they will too.

Who I have become

What we got to do

Who I got to spend time with

Things we got to observe

Shooting took a new form

Participating in this little guys experiences never gets old

Fresh off of a 5 night shift stretch, I got the crazy idea that I needed to handmake all of Adan's Valentine's for his school...so where does a momma go when she needs a crafty make shift thingy mabob?  Pinterest, duh...
and this place made it super easy to accomplish!

Pencils, pencils and pencils galore...

...oh yea, and rolos, kisses and cardstock oh my!



it just isn't as fair as it would have been if...

Sometimes we have a plan.  Sometimes we live out the entire make believe scenario in our head, right down to the color of our opposers stance.  Often times, the warrior in us armors on, straddles up and fixates often on the appearance of the situation versus the actual quality, warranted walk through.  In my effort to follow through on this purpose that was so easily available, I was blindsided.  The effort behind the decision to finally follow through on my marinated steak, was simply overshadowed by its undercooked, and bloody center.  How often do you settle into the idea that maybe, just maybe it is okay to let go and let live?  And in that decision to let the reigns go, you feel energized, driven, hopeful, faithful, weary, doubtful, scared and then helpless?  And before you know it, you have donned the chef hat, again, and the vision that was once the mignon has now salted over and landed squarely on the cutting board, again.  The disguise that we often times, if we allow it, settle into when picking our garnish, more than we care to admit, overpowers the original seed that was growing with sincerity.  That seed, like many seeds that have been planted, not only need water people, but patience to grow the fuck out...the kind of "fuck out" that it was meant to, predestined to, "label printed and picture shown on packaging" meant to.  Why do we always want to "fuck up" the "fuck out"?  Turns out, I'm not in charge.  I kinda knew that, but it's official, the printing presses have burnt the ink in stating, I AM NOT IN CHARGE!  Just when you think you got the lesson, the lesson isn't the lesson, and the lesson becomes the lesson...did you get that?  Whatever.  All I'm saying is that, it is evident that my own feathered and fancy acknowledgement of self, is only worth a damn if that acknowledgement bids a curtsy to my neighbor, bossy and overbearing.

Yes, I write my own poetry...those poems at the end of my blogs, that often serve as the lace to my dress, are all self thought, self written and self owned.

I'm 7 months in or so at my new job, and I'm 7 months in or so more into loving it.  The 6 month itch for me officially uncreased and ironed out what was suppressed since I changed jobs, and has come out with glory in hand.  Won't make any sense to you if I enlighten bore you with what that means, just know that what was once very important to me at Parkland regarding my personal space has arrived at CMC, and the comfort level to follow through on my quams is fresh and well received.  Thank ya Jesus (and I mean that)!!!

Marcus just informed me that he's heading to Mexico City for work.  The mood changes, the tone is different, and my posture carries a new pose when this happens.  Missing him is the least of my emotional burden.  I've mentioned before how Marcus is great at making me feel like our responsibility is shared regarding all things "grown up", but he truly carries that alone, and effortlessly displays a peace that either is sincere in all forms, or well dressed, mannered, tucked and tinkered to be a prime example of what bullshitting at it's best looks like. 

I haven't forgotton about my desire to present my epiphany at church the other Sunday.  I also haven't forgotten that I have yet to unload and share the Chicago texts that burned and etched a new love in my husband that was always there, just re-visited, re-membering the re-ality that re-affirms who he is and why is is worth re-marrying all over again.  That's the great thing about this blog, you see, even if I wanted to forget, I can't, this damn thing has a great memory and a black and white way of re-appearing when you click re-turn.

I have to find a dermatologist, congenital adult cardiologist and a dentist...any suggestions?

I need to sell my LR3, it eats gas, and wait for it...wait for it...I'm gonna buy a car.  Like a non SUV.  Who am I?

I feel the need to share, about myself...as if that isn't what I do already on this here blog, but everytime it happens to me, I always wonder...does anyone else do this?  So here goes, and please tell me I amn't alone in this.  Every time I make poo poo...by the way, I never used to say that, "make poo poo", but Marcus says it like that, and since we got married, I do too.  Anyways, everytime I make poo poo, I cry (omg, I just lol'd loudly to myself for typing this).  No, seriously, I do.  Not cry because I'm gonna miss the turd, and thinking of it's waste going down toilet breaks my heart, but a tear or two, will always roll down my face as that shit rolls outta me (and there I go again, lol'n).  That can't be normal right?  Lord, here goes...and once, for fun, I made a video diary of it as proof.  I narrated the whole thing, and mailed it to my sister Sally when she was overseas in the war, so she would have something to see, aren't I nice :-)~   Needless to say, she showed everyone, and it's probably on YouTube now, don't tell anyone, ok?

When it hits you in the face...

Out of sight, out of mind, only seems to work with things not directly linked with your heart.  Have you ever noticed that?  Reality checks on the other hand, out of sight, out of mind, easily attained.  The mind, it is a powerful thing...quickly forgeting the fire inside us to make a change.  You amnesia live the abilities in you to make a difference, look at your strengths dead in the eye, then reside in synchrony with the possibility that everything might have fallen into place if you had just made the effort.  Why do we continue to allow that monotonous debate in our mind to monarch real estate?  Maybe if we hadn't been so preoccupied, superimposing ourself at the finish line with a smile on our face would be attainable and a direct remnant of the decision to follow through on our capabilities.

Lori and I had lunch the other day, and the opportunity to live out my purpose was born.  For a brief moment, for that entire lunch date, my heart had wrapped my mind into the idea that I was capable of making an actual difference.  It is very beautiful you know, when you surrender your mind to your heart.  That moment when you decide that the happy medium you were taught to live under disappears, because you allow the spirit inside you to take over.  I have freed myself from the out of sight and out of mind truth that in reality has been lying to me my entire life.  Turns out your mind isn't such a terrible thing to waste, just depends on who you give it to, or in my case, what. 

out of force or sheer enjoyment...

I was at our kitchen table last night, Marcus had the cutting board out, Stella Artois on the counter, a knife in his hand, veggies on the verge of slaughter, and although the stove was near steam, it was my heart that was warming up.  I am pretty bummed that my phone is letting me down, the mouse on it comes in and out, and it just plain sucks.  It got me once again thinking about our trip to Chicago, and how damn witty I can be.  Is it bad to type out that I might be just a bit in love with myself?  Look, I have never been slender, as a matter of fact, I've always been over weight, even at my smallest, by BMI standards, I have always been obese.  Yea, I said it, OBESE.  But, never have I felt gross, sure I felt overweight, and wished that I could strut around without a sarong on the beach, but I always thought I was FINE.  I look in the mirror and "damn" myself often.  As a matter of fact, when I was getting in the shower the other day just before work, naked, I was staring at the mirror and posing, as if Hef himself was my outdated fixtures and I was a current model to be reckoned with.  What is wrong with me?  Or the ladder, what is right?  When I was single and I would go out, I always knew that I would get attention, I always felt amazing.  Any man that I have ever "wanted", I got.  Listen to me.  Sad?  Or good?  Sometimes I feel that the over indulgent love that I have for myself is my hearts overworked endogenous way of fulfilling something in me that I don't really get exogenously. 

You all know Marcus, and how much I love him, how I feel that I am the luckiest girl in the world, but one thing my sweet man is not the best at, is giving me love the way I know to receive it best.  Marcus is always there for me, if I ask him for ANYTHING, done...if I need him to "fix it", done...if I need him to satisfy me in the bedroom, done...on that note, have you ever had an orgasm so good it could have the potential to hurt, it's that intense?  I have, and have them often, it's that done...however, the everyday "touch" acknowledgements I need, not so done.  A very long time ago, my mom gave me a book called, "the five love languages", and back then I put major stock in that book, it rang true, resonated as relationship gospel, and you know if something is in pure parallel with what you already believe, then bam, it's over.  The book emphasizes the differences people have in the way that they feel most loved.  How when you love someone, and you give love, you are demonstrating it in the way you would like it given to you.  I'm a big "touch" person, it means so much to get it, and feel most loved when I do.  Touching me means much more than if you swept the floor, or cooked me dinner.  And this book describes all the different ways, how you fall into 1 of 5 or a combo of the 5 ways, how crucial it is for your partner to learn the way you receive love, and how true success comes only after the both of you deliver it to one another in "their" way.  That way of thinking has consumed me my entire "old enough to think on my own" life.  Caused many a fight between us two, and the texture of the request isn't the same when repeated often.  Oh marriage, compromise, just doesn't have the same meaning unless you are married.  Here is the truth people, as a parent, compromise officially takes a new form, and the butter that spreads easier is learning to slice the bread with a different knife.  Your kid has no way to know that you love it when you're touched, or that possibly crawling past you to get a toy while intentionally swiping by your leg is what will brighten your day.  They just know how to exist.  It is up to us to see in them the love that he/she has the capability to give.  You have to learn their gestures, adopt their method, and soak in it.  Why can't I apply that to my partner in life?  Will my relationship with my child be doomed, because he doesn't love me the way I am comfortable with?  Absolutely not.  Shame on me for putting that level of importance on having my love tank suffer because my selfish way of thinking pressures my husband to relearn a method that is so uncomfortable for him.  He loves the shit out of me, daily, and it has taken me becoming a parent to see that. Screw me for not learning to receive love in the many forms it exists.  Love isn't a one dimensional self inflicted handicap, it's a transforming, many level, tons of flavor dish, and thanks to Adan my heart steams at the sight of many things.  Below is my heart brewing with warmth over my eyes ability to transform simple images into touchable forces for my soul.

Aunt Sylvia soaking up a little love for herself

Halo's for both of these boys

If a picture could talk...luckily for you, I do, and all I'm saying is...LOVE LOVE LOVE

He'll take your money, but not before he steals your heart

Easy on the eyes, effortless in my soul

Cowtown fun

  

As my days fill with time, and my heart fills with you

How can I fight this feeling of truth.

Not seeing the love that you had just for me,

Blinded by selfish injustice that seethes.

It's obvious to some, but not to the ones

that surrender only their mind to their love.

For it's with your heart that my soul belongs

abundantly living, emotionally strong.

let me just mention...

It's not how you were raised that makes you who you are.  It is how you cope with situations in your life growing up that mold you.  I don't even believe that the way you cope is something that can be learned.  I truly believe that it is innate in us, that you either instinctively and depending on your efficacy of reflex, fists up or hovering under, are your two choices.  Am I naive enough to think there are only two types of people in this world?  No.  Those two choices, buffered by high school, polished by relationships, sanded down by college, etc...evolve into modified versions, resulting in by products of it's origin.  It is modifications and tweeks within those two that make up our circle of comfort.

I have two sisters, we grew up with the same two parents, same household, same life normal/typical child rearing ways. And we are so extremely different, the statement, "it's not even funny" does not even slightly do it justice.  It's pretty obvious who I am, because you can see me right away, transparency is my middle name and the lack of filter is my first.  The common denominator in most of the conflicts I find in my life is me.  However, is it because I pick and choose my battles poorly, or is it because my fists are always up?  If I hovered, by default the conflict would always belong to you.  Whatever...life reflection only gives you the ability to have a platinum memory, and I'm looking to maintain my bronze memory, that way I can frequently forget the people who hate me.

Remember my fancy desire to have a memorable New Years?  Something real pearl clinching worthy?  Well, I got that...in the comfort of my own home.  We, as in Marcus, had it all planned out.  Sir Richard, remember him?  He came into town, again, and the itinerary was in full force.  Fancy dinner, because that's what we do...Fancy party, with a Fancy dress...Fancy dancing and Fancy cocktails...all for the bargain price of a Fancy Benjamin.  It never lego'd together just right, sure the blocks were starting to stack, and the tower was mighty high, but the click wasn't audible, and we reserved a table for "whoever wanted to show up" at our house.  Last minute, Ese'me Street catered a party and it was fun.  The kind of fun you remember.  The kind of fun that moves me to alliteration.  My propaganda...in the form of memorable and impressive indentions deriving palpability (my word), accessible in these exclusive 4x6 "time stoppers".

Who is this Pinterest, and why are they at my party's?

A few of our VIPs

Remember undershooting, well...how's overshooting for ya?

Ludacris showing up, incarnated in Jennifer Lewis form, then finding out you are "sorta" related to your unit pharmacist...big plus

It was the best of times, with the best of crowds...an unexpected surprise was reason enough to keep Adan around

And yes, this completely solidifies the horrendous person that is our neighbor.  Remember her?  The one that pushes me to the brink of human bowling her children.

Did not want it any other way...about the biggest adult slumber party I've ever seen...and hosted


My husband and I were on our back patio/porch just winding the night down between us, and talking about our blessed 2011, and how we must remain faithful in 2012, no matter what trials we happen to be up against.  We have to stay true and faithful.  We have been blessed beyond belief this last year, and sometimes when it's that good, the human in us/me, doubts my future in anticipation of "something bad must happen next".  Do I honor that to be a truth, in my soul, I DO NOT.  But I would be lying if it didn't swim around and cause a mental hurricane from time to time.  Not 30 mins later, while planning out a photography class with my friend Ceci, and not boring you with all the details of what was the "wreck", we had our home shattered.  Luckily for us, Marcus and I did not go down the victim path, or let this incident end our night, much less start our new year with anything other than happiness.  We believe that through our trials, we are drawn very close to our Lord, and it is in clearing the rubbage that we allow him to truly be our Saviour.