work/life

I almost didn't make it back to blog and I bet you didn't have an inkling of a clue that I was even in peril.  

Here's what happened:  We took all three kids to Disneyland for two, count them, two days.  I'm not a huge fan of crowds. Especially fun park crowds. Where do these people live in everyday life?  I've never seen exposed flesh in such vast quantities on my trips to the grocery store. Hell, I don't see it at our community pool.  Call me a prude, but please, people. If you have large gigglies, let's keep them contained. Just sayin'.

Anyway. It was pretty harry carry. No pun intended.  There was a fair amount of whining and screaming.  Some from me, most from the kids.  The Sugar Daddy just walked around and looked like the sexy hot dad he is that is willing to schelp his kids around the ant hill known as "Disney".

But the memories! We are building memories right? Well, the kids can sort that out with their therapists later.

Anywho. 

Work Life. Yes. That's what this post is supposed to be about. My art in Work Life.  Uppercase published this book which is chalk full of amazing artists.

And then there's me.  I feel like such a poser next to so many of the other people in the book.  

Thom flipped through the book then he looked at me and said, "Mom, you're so good. You're like the best."

And this is how we ended up at Disneyland. See how that works?

Here's the piece I did for the book.

And here's a look at the entire book.

You can purchase the book here if you are so inclined.

I'm off to get caught up on the laundry and spend the entire day trying to get "It's a Small World" and some awful mental pictures of Disneyland people out of my head,

swwwwweet!

Yesterday was Sugar Daddy's birthday. He said he wanted to take his kids to Disneyland. The guy doesn't even like Disneyland. How's that for being a sweet guy?

We decided to get a hotel so that we could be at the park when it opened in the morning. When we got to our room at the Hyatt it smelled like gym socks.

And there were no windows that opened.

So I made Sugar Daddy ask for another room, which he did, not because he wanted to, but because he's a sweet guy.

I stood by the elevators with the kids and waited. When he came back, Sugar Daddy smiled at me and said, "I guess it pays to complain. They put us in the brand new family suite."

I said, "Sweet! A Suite!"

Thomas had a room all his own with bunk beds and a flat screen T.V.. He thought it was pretty dope. (That's gangster slang for really neat.)

Birdie christened the new carpet with a big barf and we settled in for the night.

It was seventy-five degrees and the lines weren't too long. We went on every ride we wanted to. We had super sweet and delicious pineapple sundays at the Tiki Room.

Thomas got cotton candy and french fries and I got a charming pink and white lollipop to go with my Christmas decorations.

Yeah, all in all it was a pretty sweet day.

And then Birdie screamed her head off all the way home.

Happy Birthday Daddy.