Here at the Perry House,

when we do it, we do it allll the waaaay.

Like Gabe. He got sick yesterday. And well, he decided, that like his momma getting her review on her job & her pastor saying she puts 110% & all her heart into her job,
well, he decided he would be sick 110%.

In the matter of 24 hours, he worked his temp up to 102 (I think it was 103 this a.m.), he puked after I got him dressed, he coughed all night, and he worked himself into 2 infections (double ear + sinus infection), so the doctor wouldn't feel he'd wasted his time.

Flynn is going for Most Popular at her preschool. I have yet to do a pick-up & not have a parent say, "Oohhhhhhh, you're Flynn's Mom.... little Suzy talks about her all the time."
As if my chest needs help puffing, I admit to being the celeb's mom.
Wonder if she'll put me up in a mansion when we're older.

When Jeff's emergency brake gave out, it didn't just roll a bit. It rolled ALL THE WAY down our subdivision hill, across 2 yards & settled just mere feet in front of a neighbor's home.
Not just once.
But four times friend, four times (each time after having it "fixed").

I didn't tell you this dear internet, but this past summer, Jeff & I contributed to the annual church fourth of July variety show, because, well, we want to be supportive (code word for steal the show).
We didn't just contribute, we put on cheerleader costumes & spoofed the SNL Spartan Cheerleaders. We're that corny. We re-wrote the skit to incorporate inside church jokes about set-up, the Pastor's wife, & other slams. Also, brought down the house with a funky cold medina remix... wherein Jeff may have hollared & kicked over my head.
The skit was such a success, we were encored to do it AT CHURCH, and so, we rallied for help at our VBS through the script. This time, moments before going on, we were given wireless mics. And backstage (literally), right before our entrance, I looked at the mic pack (a pack holding batteries & the necessary mechanisms), then looked down at my lack of pockets. I was wearing a cheerleader skirt & some fitted shortys for crying out loud. So, I opted to tuck the pack safely in my waist band.
Except,
it wasn't so 'safely' tucked.
After a few kicks & double stag jumps, the mic pack had dangerously slid into the crotch of my undies.
Lordy no.
I found myself in that dangerous position I was in, where I looked down to see the toe of my shoe through my bridesmaid's dress.
I knew, that I could not jump, stag, kick, or be too terribly exciting; les my cheerleader spoof would turn into a horror skit, wherein I give birth to a mic pack.

I don't think we'll ever be accused of not giving it enough effort. We might not get the Most Improved Award, or the MVP...Going for the Hustler Hustle award.