taming the beast

I am thinking that soon I will have to write an obituary for my blog. But I am going to make one more grand effort to resuscitate the feeble thing before it gets to that point.

My husband is more poetic than he believes himself to be and often gives me little morsels of inspiration. It's no secret to either of us or anyone who has come to our house lately that it's, well, a little bit messy. With my mad photography obsession, my desire to entertain and play with the child, and my poor husband's stupidly busy work schedule (not his fault), the house has suffered, namely the floors and the bathrooms. But the dishes, too. And just the general mess of junk mail, bills, and catalogs from expensive stores that accumulates into a Mt. Everest of insignificance atop the crumb-laden wood-grain surface of our IKEA kitchen table.

So, the other day, I skipped the gym and made the child play inside, and I cleaned. Like a mad woman.

And when my husband got home, he said very tenderly:

"Thank you for taming the beast."

:::

We took Eli to his first baseball game on Monday, and let's just say, for our child, the lyrics of the song should be changed to "Please, for the love of God, don't take me out to the ball game."

The kid had a major meltdown when we stepped into the expansive stadium of blinding lights, hurried fans, and over-zealous hot dog vendors. So, who even knows if the Astros won or not? We don't, because we didn't even make it to the second inning. Maybe next year.

For more delightful photos from the game, click to the right for our Flickr page. Happy weekend!

And Happy Birthday to Aunt Jenny and to Nanny Mel!!! ;-) Rock on, sistas...