Happy Birthday Dave

Dave isn't really into birthdays and today is his birthday. I think he would rather forget (and did forget--as evidenced yesterday when his brother called him a day early and wished him a happy birthday which convinced him that yesterday must have been his birthday). I, on the other hand, love birthdays. Not huge affairs, but just low key wishes for the next year. In honor of Dave, I coaxed Claire in between naps to say "Happy Birthday Daddy", but the closest she got was a close approximation to each word individually and Dave only heard the birthday part, but I do think she realized there was something different about today for daddy.

During Claire's naps, I spent the rest of the time thinking of Dave and all the things I love about him. My thoughts all boiled down to this question, "How in the world did I get this guy to choose me?" I am so grateful to have him and to spend another year with him. He is such an easy person to be around and I can hardly wait until the end of the day to tell him stories, try to make him laugh, hypothesize with him, snuggle with him, or just watch him interacting with my girl. I love, love, love this man.

Adrenaline

For the last few weeks Dave has been talking about how guys need adrenaline. The conversation started after an eventful evening at MnS's house. Luke, their five-year-old had spotted a baby sidewinder rattle snake over their back fence. Before I knew it the rattle snake was caught, in the house and in a somewhat secure place. Dave and his brother spent the evening warning the kids about the dangers of snakes and even looked up the rattle snake on-line to find out how venomous they are. 

I kept nagging Dave that it was time to let the snake go, but every time I checked the snake was still there. Later that night when the kids were "safe" in their beds I overheard Dave and his brother from the other room bragging about how if the kids weren't around all night they would have picked the snake up. They must have looked around themselves and realized that they were kid free because about five minutes after I overheard this conversation I wandered into the kitchen and Dave was holding the rattle snake. The kids who were "safe" in their beds overheard the gleeful cries when Dave picked up the snake and came running. So much for teaching the kids snake safety and appropriate distance. The last thing I remember is screaming out, "This is what happens when you marry a redneck!"

The next morning Dave called me from work just to check if I didn't think it was even the least bit "sexy" that he had picked up a rattler the night before. Just for the record, I still don't think it is sexy. 

Fast forward to last night, where Dave was still extolling the merits of the adrenaline rush. He explained that guys just need to get their heart racing to feel alive from time to time. Ten minutes later I found Dave in the backyard (at 11pm) tying water balloons. He had a wonderful idea to lob them over our backyard fence onto the road. The water balloon practice had a specific purpose as he wanted to catch his brother in a water balloon volley on his way home from work. I practiced with Dave a couple of times and then Dave said he was going to show me how close he could get to a car without hitting it. A few seconds later Dave had hit a passing car with the water balloon and two very angry 20 something guys had jumped out of the car. Dave, in his typical charismatic way tried to diffuse the situation with a smile, a chuckle and a quick explanation. The guys simply weren't in the listening mood and before I knew it a hail storm of rocks were being lobbed at us over the fence. I quickly took cover inside and turned out all the lights. 

After a bit of a screaming match outside, Dave went to patrol the front yard to make sure there was no retribution and after seeing the guys circling the neighborhood called the police. The police arrived and he had to explain that, yes, he is a 35-year-old man throwing water balloons at 11pm at night. 

Adrenaline. And for the record, Dave did look a little sexy protecting our house after the water balloon drama.

Ghetto Pool

Last night, Dave came running in the house yelling, "Tara, grab the camera!". Which is code for come as quickly as you can with Cannon in your hand, Claire is doing something exceptionally cute. Come to think of it, when is the last time someone said "Grab the camera!" and came to take a picture of you. Maybe that is why Claire is confident and self-assured, it must feel pretty fine to be the center of so much adoration. Anyway, I ran outside and saw Claire taking a dip in what Dave called her "Ghetto Pool". She was so adorable I couldn't resist posting these pics. 

Remember when I said I didn't want to have one of those blogs where you only talk/brag/post pics about your kids, well, this is the point that I eat crow. I am officially one of those bloggers that only talks/brags/posts pics about my kid. I just can't resist, my little Claire is the biggest charm, most of the time (refer to Exorcist post). I promise I will attempt to post a thought-provoking non-Claire centered post in the near future, unless Dave comes yelling, "Tara, grab the camera!"

Claire in her swimming pail finding joy in small spaces.

Trying to squeeze the five-pound diaper into that small space.

At some point--thanks to the five-pound diaper--clothes just became too burdensome.