Saturday, July 24, 2010


My husband could beat up your husband. Ok, maybe he could, maybe he couldn't... but he could probably out sing him.

My husband rocks. He is everything I could have ever asked for in a person to share my life with, and I literally thank the Big Man every single day, that he is in my life.

<3 What a dorko <3

That being said, I'm pretty sure my family is turning in to one of those families that says things like "If something ever happens with Molly and Babe I'm not sure who we'll keep!". They LOVE this kid. I get it, I picked him, but c'mon!

My entire family refers to my husband as 'Babe'. They say it's because that's what I call him, and there are already too many Zach's in the family. Right.

Let's take today for example. I am sick. I have some sort of disgusting stomach flu that I will spare all (both) of you the details of. It is gross but my parents changed my diapers, so when I spoke to them I expected them to, as usual, ask me every tiny detail... "what color are you puking?" Etc. They're weird, and nothing is personal or private in my family. This is one of a million reasons why I love them.

Anyways, I wake up from a particularly sweaty nap and decided it was time to call Bob and Mickey to see if I can score some front door delivery lime popsicles, or at the very least, their deepest sympathies for my condition. Let me tell you what actually happened.

"Hey, sis how ya feelin'?" The concerned voice of my father answering the phone for his sickly only daughter (and clear favorite child). "Well, Dad" I sigh, "I've been better, I'm thinking it's unrelated to whatever was making me sick before, and its just that stomach thing you guys had...". I admit it, I placed a little blame there hoping for two boxes of popsicles. "I'm sorry Mol... Babe at work?" He responds.

I'm caught off guard by this... perhaps he is wondering if Babe has already purchased and perhaps fed me these life saving treats that I so desire...

"Uhh yeah, he had to leave a little while ago. He won't be home until 7am or so..." I say quietly to assure them that my throat is sore and in desperate need of cold limey goodness. "Oh, well that sucks, I'm sorry. Here's Mom I'm all greeeeeasy."

Pump the brakes. No Zack no talky? How is this acceptable?

Repeat that with the voice of a slightly more distracted Michelle Lich and you have the entire conversation. Only at the part where I speak quietly, my darling mom tells me to take the dick out of my mouth so she can hear me. I admit I laughed hysterically, but I did not get my popsicles. And Dawn, if you happen to read this... I didn't have anything but a breath mint in my mouth.

This is a constant issue. I'm funny, but Zack is new and my family can NOT get enough of him. I wait in the BLISTERING heat to pick up cousin Cody from drivers Ed., he gets in the car and says "Babe working?"... seriously??? Little Zach calls me and I get excited thinking perhaps he is as bored as I am and would like to come clean my house, or accompany Hank and I on a walk, and instead he says "hey, Molly. Is Babe at work today?". Let's just say the answer to that question usually determines whether or not he still wants to play with me. Keep in mind, they ALL wanted to play with me pre-babe.


It has even spread to my Grandma's.

So, now I have to decide. Do I infect Zack with my illness and see how they react to determine if they still love me? Or do I infect Zack with my illness as a punishment for making them love him so much? It's a tough call.

The moral of the story is I love my husband more than they do, damnit, and my family BETTER love me at least equally :). I know these are truths. I just want my popsicles.

I do believe ill go watch Madagascar for the eleventh time today.

Follow up- My Daddy just called to check on me again and told me if I need anything to tell him and that no one loves me more than him :) feeling much better.

Thanks for reading this one too, kiddos.

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