Quite the Ruckus

Have I mentioned, at all yet, how my husband recently bought a motorcycle?

Wait. No. Shame shame, Tia- better clarify that...

*Ahem*

Have I mentioned, at all yet, how my husband recently bought a motor-scooter?

Because oh boy. Here we go.



Not so long ago, Christopher had mentioned to me that a friend of his was selling his bike. Of course, I brushed it off like he had never brought it up at all, in one ear and out then right out the other. The last thing my has-no-balance Sasquatch needed, was a motorcycle.

Weeeeelllll- the more I thought about it, the more I decided it might be ok. I didn't tell him any of this though, God no, I just let it all stew around in my head, until I had made my decision. And then one day, when he least expected it, I pulled him into the kitchen when he came home from his lunch break, and I simply said "you can get the bike".

That of course caught him completely off guard, and I think at that point he was ignoring me, not having understood what I was telling him. He never in a million years probably expected to hear those words come out of my mouth, and maybe didn't even hear them at all.

I cut him off mid sentence- something about hydraulic fluid this, or plane engine that- and I repeated myself.

"No. Honey. I'm telling you that you can get the motorcycle. I want you to get it. I think you deserve it".

Silence.

A blank stare.

Total confusion.



What was I thinking, you wonder? Well, a lot, actually. I was thinking about how Christopher is about to be promoted (on June 30th!), and what all went into that. I was thinking about how he graduated at the very top of his class when he attended Airman Leadership School, I was thinking about how much hes matured over the last couple of years, and mostly, I was thinking about how badly I wanted my van back. I know, maybe a little selfish, but- rightfully so.

And really, how badly can he hurt himself on something that doesn't go above 43 miles per hour?


So there we stood in the kitchen. Both leaning against the counter, my husband starting to get so excited that he maybe almost left the house without even eating his lunch, making big plans to add a second mode of transportation into our lives.

Fast forward about 3 months, a meeting with some commander guy (the very day after Chris sliced his head open on an airplane and had to go to the ER for staples), a motorcycle safety class (take a wild guess as to who was the only one in the class to crash a bike? Come on, guess!), a motorcycle license, the actual purchasing process later, and...



Look whos livin' on the edge.

Now I can't say that there weren't any bumps in the road, because there was a lot of back and forth on his part ("I want the bike, I don't want the bike. We could spend the money on this instead, or maybe that- or I could just get a bicycle, and ride it everyday in the 100 degree weather, with all my gear on"), and I may or may not have locked him out of the house at one point, with the very demanding instructions of "go get your bike, or divorce me". You might think I'm exaggerating when I say that, but- ask my neighbors all about the show we put on for them in the driveway. It was a good one.

Needless to say, I'm glad all is said and done. The bike is ours.
And I have my van back.



Aaaannd it doesn't exactly hurt, that he looks totally cute on the dang thing, right?

Father's Day 2010

I bet if you asked Christopher, he'd say that he had a pretty good Father's Day. Just spending some time here at home, like we do on most days, but with a little extra color and texture drawn into the mix.



The kids had both scribbled in between the lines of pictures of fighter jets, that I had printed off of the computer onto colored sheets of construction paper (which of course was the wrong size, and I had to trim it while the printer was beeping and flashing "load paper" at me, it was all very dramatic, I promise you), and then they each signed them with a tiny little hand print and a date. We slid them into basic Target-bought frames, and then the babies hid them behind our backs, yelled "surprise", and gave Daddy the very most perfect Father's Day gifts, to let him know just how much they love him (which is more than he'll ever know).



After the kids gave Christopher his artwork, we headed outside into the morning sun, opened up a brand new box of sidewalk chalk (later to become a meal for Charlie, despite our best efforts), layed down on the freshly cooled pavement, and painted a family portrait.

Christopher first. Then Eleanore. And then squirmy little Charlie.



After our exhausting family photo session, we went inside for brunch!

Fresh berry cobbler. French toast (made with freshly baked bread). And bacon.

Eleanore ate all of her french toast, but no bacon. Charlie ate all of his bacon, but no french toast. I ate neither. And Daddy ate it all, and then some.

While the babies napped, I did force Christopher into some nesting rituals, like cleaning out the pantry and his work closet- but we ended the night with an out of season Harry Potter movie, homemade pepperoni pizza, and freshly churned chocolate ice cream drizzled with piping hot, hot fudge.

So.
...I bet if you asked Christopher, he'd say that he had a pretty good Father's Day.