Good morning, sunshine.

So this morning I was sleeping and Taylen came in to wake me up and told me,

"I'm pregnant, mom."

And I thought...how long have I been asleep?!?

I WANT I WANT I WANT...

So, I REALLY want a new digital camera. A nice one. I've just got a little one that I've had for 3 years, and the battery always falls out and it's all scratched up, and it's just getting to be time for a new one. Having nice pictures is important to me, because one day that's all I'll have to remember how sweet my girls are right now.

I obviously don't have tons of extra money for a super nice camera, but I'm willing to sacrifice a little so I can get one. I think I might ask my relatives to pitch in to a "Nikki's Camera Fund" for Christmas instead of gifts. And I know Christmas is far away, but I'm starting my research early.

So, for all of you out there who have nice cameras (Jenny MorphDorph, Cathi, Chantri, and I'm sure there are more of you)--what kind of camera do you have, and what are the pros and cons? I want one that's got a good auto setting so I can use that while I learn the other stuff. But eventually I would love to be able to set it manually and use different lenses and things.

Give me the goods. Let's hear it.

Just an FYI

I am going to start posting all my random stories, thoughts, quotes and other stuff on my Have Joy blog. This (Crandalicious) blog will have pictures, stats, and stories about my kids...which are probably more boring to everyone, and mostly will satisfy the grandparent/great grandparent/aunt/uncle craving for my kids. I am going to be making Crandalicious private soon, so if you would like an invite, please email me at havejoy@ymail.com from the email address you would like me to add (or leave a comment on this post with your email address). I will be adding family, friends, and even friends of friends (if you're really that interested :). I will add you even if I don't know you personally, I just want to keep better tabs on who is looking at this (Crandalicious) blog. Have Joy will remain public so anyone and everyone can look at it. So that's that! Get in the habit of checking Have Joy for the deep (and not so deep) Nikki thoughts, and Crandalicious for the kid updates. Sound good?

My New Boyfriend (Bachelorette References Ahead)

Okay, people. Jason is hot. DeAnna is freaking stupid. She could have had the beautiful, hot, stable, hot, safe, hot, romantic, hot, reliable, hot Jason. Plus he's kind of good looking. Instead she chose the shaggy headed, crooked nosed, pink shoe laced goober snow boarder Jesse.

WHAT?! Are you kidding me?!?!

Luckily for Jason I have been studying the home-town date footage and have pretty much narrowed down where his house is. Now I need to come up with a non-stalker explanation for why I'm standing on his doorstep wearing a wedding dress. Suggestions welcomed.

So me and Brooke are sitting in intense anticipation of some heartbreak during the finale. All is quiet in the house (except for me pausing the tv every five minutes to make some obnoxious comment about DeAnna's dress, or Jesse's obscenely crooked nose, or Jason's hot body...I can thank my mother for that endearing characteristic of mine. And when I say "endearing," I mean "I'm lucky Brooke hasn't stabbed me with the remote control," which doesn't seem like it would hurt...but it probably would. Think about it).

So, I'm eating some leftover breadsticks from Little Ceasar's, and Brooke is dipping some buttered toast in hot chocolate, despite the fact that it's literally been ONE THOUSAND degrees here. Literally. She makes some obnoxious comment about how my breadsticks smell like body funk, so we proceed to call them "Fart Sticks" the rest of the evening. *Warning: If you are mature, you might not belong here. Just a thought.*

So, I've got my Fart Sticks (which are delish, by the way) and Brooke's dipping her toast, and out of nowhere she makes this animal-like noise...like, from the throat...gluttoral? guttoral? I have no idea what I'm saying. But it's a weird noise. I look over and she's looking in horror at her toast, her face distorted with disgust. She starts to tell me that the butter...(gag)...smells like...(gag)...butt...(gag)...

She is literally dry heaving. Literally.

At this point I am curled in a tiny ball on the couch, trying not to pee my pants or choke on my Fart Sticks, which takes a lot of concentration. Especially since tears are streaming down my face because I'm laughing so hard.

Brooke is still dry heaving. It's pretty awesome.

We finally semi-compose ourselves, and Brooke makes this genius suggestion, "You have got to smell this."

Let's see. On my list of 5 things I want to do today are:
1. Get salmonella from some rotten tomatos.
2. Jab a very sharp pencil way up my nose.
3. Eat tic tacs that this dude gave me (click to see it bigger if you can't read it):


4. Watch hours and hours of the Tyra Skanks show
5. Jury Duty
6. Take a big whiff of involuntary gag-inducing butter that smells like feet.


Oh darn! The butter sniffing didn't quite make the top 5...too bad.

Unfortunately, Brooke wasn't about to let me get away without experiencing the dry heaving pleasure she was privy to. So, she pinned me on the couch, and literally rubbed the nasty butter /slash/crap all over my face and up my nose. As if it's not disgusting enough to have butter smeared everywhere, the fact that it literally smelled like dead cat made it even less pleasant. Literally.

Seriously, words cannot express oh how awful twas the smell.

So there we were, both of us laughing, crying, and dry heaving at the same time. Oh, and trying not to choke on Fart Sticks. And it totally ruined the whole Bachelorette I'm a Stupid Immature Girl Who Thinks She's In Love thing.

But it was pretty freaking funny.
::Sigh of contentment::

Introducing:

Have Joy

Click above to view my new blog!

Don't forget to leave me a comment to let me know what you think...

Cookie Book

So my mom brought us a new book last week when she was here, and it has quickly become one of Tay's favorites--Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar? We have read it every night for at least a week. So tonight Taylen is ready for bed, and I ask her if she wants to read the Cookie Book again tonight, and she says,

"Yeah. That book makes me so sweaty."

What?! hahah...ya gotta love the three year olds.

Crazy is hereditary:

Tkljslfkj alkjd lkajsld fjkadlfk alkdflkjaowijeor fkja;afoiej ?

Happy Birthday, Bearsy!

So Ryah turned one on Sunday! I can't believe it. Reflecting on this past year brings up so many emotions for me...and most of them are not pleasant. I'm pretty sure that the months following Ryah's birth hold the #1 spot on the "Crappiest Times in Nikki's Life" list.

...

It feels terrible even saying that, but her birth was really a turning point for me. She was a VERY DIFFICULT baby. Literally cried all the time, and didn't sleep longer than an hour or two at a time for months. I got mastitis (if you've never had that, just go take a steak knife and jab your chest with it a couple of times and you'll get the general idea of it). I had a very time and energy consuming calling. My mom got diagnosed with cancer and underwent chemo and radiation. And the you-know-what hit the fan with Brad and I, and took a serious turn for the worse. Well, things hadn't been good for a while, but no one knew (including our families) until the weekend Ryah was born.

...

That was the weekend I realized that the situation was bigger than I could handle by myself.

...

Anyway, it was such a hard time in my life. I look back and know that there is no way I could have gotten out of bed in the morning had I not had some serious help from my Father in Heaven. It's interesting that while I was in it, I didn't realize how serious things were. I was sort of a zombie, just going through the motions to get through the days. But looking back I am so thankful that I am not in that place anymore. And even though things are difficult (in a different way) now, they are nowhere near as crappy as they were a year ago.

...
And so, Ryah's birthday this week was a celebration of new life in so many ways. I am so blessed to have this sweet baby in my life. She reminds me that I have much to be thankful for.

...

Happy birthday sweet girl! You are loved by many.

I see London, I see France...

So...

Flirting.

It is the funniest thing. Once I got married and my relationship shifted from the fun/flirty stage to the baggy sweat pants/fall asleep at 8 pm stage (which I happen to love, by the way), I started to get a kick out of watching young males and females get their flirt on. The overexaggerated hair flicking, the elbow touching, the too-loud laughing at the not-quite-funny jokes...it's all just so funny once you're not in that stage anymore.

And then some of us get suddenly thrown back into that stage, ready or not.

Seriously, the first day I walked around without my wedding ring on was so weird. I swear everyone (correction: every male) was staring at me. The cashier at McDonald's, the mailman, the random guy in the car next to me, they all wanted me. They could sense that I didn't have my ring on. haha. Obviously, I was being slightly oversensitive to it, which has since worn off. But seriously ladies, have you ever forgotten your wedding ring one day? I swear men treat you differently.

Anyway, so I'm at work the other day, and this guy comes in. He's been in before, we've chatted. He knows I'm going through a divorce, yadda yadda (is that how you write that? I've never actually written that before, and I have no idea if that's right. Probably "yadda yadda" should be in our Butcher The English Language Dictionary that we started compiling in the previous post).

Okay, so Dude turns on the flirting. And it's not pretty. Seriously, he was being so immature it was almost embarrassing! He is like 34 going on 12.

I actually left the office with permanent marker scribbled up my foot, and a "kick me" sign on my back.

I wish I was kidding.

I'm surprised he didn't snap my bra and remind me that it was Flip Up Friday.

If this is what I have to look forward to in Dating After Divorce Land, just kill me now.

At least then I could avoid the awkward couples' skate at the roller rink...

Sex Sells

So, since I posted about sex a couple days ago, I've had a billion hits on my blog!! Okay, maybe not a billion, but definitely a lot. That post was pretty funny, though, I'd have to admit. I'm glad you all appreciated it and are coming back for more!

So this post is not about sex (I can feel the disappointment from you all), but it is about something that bothers me almost as much. haha. Kidding.

The English language. It is weird. And people butcher it. And depending on the mood I'm in, I either find it humorous or totally annoying.

Here is one of my favorites that I have been guilty of using, but have since repented :). And now I notice it all the time. I just heard it in a country song (Brad Paisley, no less) on the way home from work the other day, which prompted this post.

And it is (drumroll, please):

A Whole Nother.

As in, a whole nother post. Or a whole nother class.

What, exactly, is a NOTHER?

Technically, I guess it should be "another whole monkey" instead of "a whole nother monkey."

Everyone I know says this, and probably nobody notices that they're talking about Nothers.

And it gets better. I looked it up in Webster's Dictionary, and it's there! haha. Awesome.

Click the NOTHER to get the definition.

Moral of the story: Even if it's totally and completely wrong, if enough people do it for long enough, it will eventually be accepted as correct (ie: put in the dictionary). Does this worry anyone else on a much deeper level? haha. I'll save that for a different day.

Okay, I'm off to take care of a sick baby and an overactive 3 year old (or maybe "overactive" is just implied with the age group...).

Here comes a whole nother day!

Make it a good one. :)