Normally, we aren't the flu shot type. This year with the H1N1 virus and complications with Mr. Boy's asthma, our very conservative doc said, "Shots for everyone!" The kids do not love shots, in fact they are terrified of them. If I want them to stop doing something I tell them, "You are going to get hurt and have to get a shot if you keep doing that." I'm an evil mom, but whatever makes them obey. First round was the regular flu shot. I decided to keep silent and then just surprise them with a visit to the doctor so "Mom can get a shot." That plan backfired quickly, they soon realized we were all getting shots. 
The kids show off their battle wounds.
They escorted us back to the little triage area behind a flimsy curtain. I plopped both kids on the exam table while they wept, wailed, and thrashed about. I went first and put on my bravest face. Then they did AK, while Mr. Boy watched in terror as they "STABBED MY SISTER WITH THE POINTY THING!" AK starts screaming hysterically. Mr. Boy fearing that he was about to meet certain death by hypodermic needle, went hysterical. He started thrashing around doing the alligator death roll . He is yelling at the top of his lungs, "NO NO NO NO" and a whole group of nurses comes running in.
The kids show off their battle wounds. With 10 people crammed into a little triage area, Mr. Boy decides to make his move. He falls straight out of the curtain and takes off running down the hallway, with three nurses chasing him down. Our very favorite Nurse, Nurse Gloria, is exiting an exam room and sees Mr. Boy streak by, and joins in the chase. She tackles him to the ground and gets a good grip on him. It is mad chaos by now, patients all along the hallways are peeking out the exam room doors to find out what the commotion is.
Nurse Gloria scoops Mr. Boy up, walks him to the exam room holding him in a tight hug, even as he screams bloody murder. She barks "EVERYONE OUT. This is my patient." She whispers in Mr. Boys ear the entire time, "It will pinch for 3 seconds, and then it's done, count with me." Another nurse quickly administers the shot, and Mr. Boy barely had time to count to two.
He looks up at Nurse Gloria and says, "That's it!? It didn't even hurt." I collapse on the ground because I feel as though I have just endured a WWII sized battle over something that "didn't even hurt." Mr. Man who didn't believe this story, got his shot the following Monday. The triage nurse looked at his chart and said, "Oh boy, your family was in on Friday, that was something else I tell ya. I needed a stiff drink and a nap after their visit. I've never had to chase after a patient before." Good times.
Am I the only one who sees the resemblance?
On the occassion of your shared birthdayI write a note to let you know how much I love each of you. 
Mr. Man, holy smokes what a year it's been. I have typed out paragraph after paragraph, but all much too personal for cyberspace. However, I want to acknowledge that last year at this time you were so sick. It took a few months for you to get better, and I am so grateful for your good health. It is something I don't take for granted and I want the universe to know it. There is a lot to celebrate this month, and I'm excited to spend the next year working on projects together. I'm grateful for the amazing dad that you are, and for the fabulous husband you are. Even in one of the worst economies you have been an excellent provider, working hard to provide for our family. Being around you makes me want to be a better person, and I love being with you. 
Oh Sandy the Wonder Dog, What a year you have had! Twice this year, I have taken you to the vet to be told you had days left. There is something in you that just won't quit, and you have stunned the vets with a remarkable turnaround. You have lost 15 pounds due to illness, your hips are stiff, and we have to help you stand up in the morning, but I wouldn't change a thing. Sandy, for the past fourteen years you have greeted me with exuberance and treated me like I was the best thing to walk in the room. You've done wonders for my self esteem. 
You are the best family dog. The kids lay on you, bury you in stuffed animals, pull your ears, and you just wag your tail and nuzzle them. The kids love to sit in your spot on the couch, and watch you try to tell them to move. You nudge them over, snorting and grunting to show your dissapproval, while they happily oblige with giggles. Sitting in "your spot" is a sure fire way of getting to snuggle with you. The kids love to lay on you while they watch a movie.
You have never been the type of dog to bolt out the door. Then eighteen months ago you started sneaking out to taunt the neighbor cats and dogs. I don't like you wandering outside by yourself. You slip out every chance you get, sniff the neighbors lawns and then come home to bark and scratch at the front door. Sandy, you have more personality in one paw than most dogs have in their entire body. I know, I know, you are just a dog... There are a million labradors named Sandy in the world, but none are as unique as you. Even the vet has acknowledged your personality is not the personality of a dog and your intelligence is off the charts. 
After all, my new phone deserves a nice case... right?
For dinner, they wore crowns they had decorated themselves. We ate out on the deck, with candles and linens, which the kids picked out. Notice Baby Roller Hand attended too. (PS.. don't ask your kids to say "Muppet" instead of "Cheese" because their smiles look like this. )
The note said, "Be Nice." I'm not gonna lie, Mr. Boy looked a little dissappointed. I think he was hoping the secret to life's riches was a pirates treasure map. However, I want my children to remember it is nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice. All in all, a great tradition, one I hope to repeat for years to come. 
They are great kids and I know when they read this one day they are going to be rolling their eyes when I say, "No, look you guys weren't the problem, it was me." Really, it is me, I just need some adult time. Evenings spent on the couch watching the latest reality show by myself isn't helping my intelligence, I need conversation with an adult. Mr. Man is apolegetic, "I promise after this phase is finished of the project, we will go out, I'll cook, you go off somewhere with your friends, I promise." However, we are still a few weeks off from that point. This is where Cinnamon comes into the picture. (literally... ha!) 
I told her in the most whiney voice that my life is drab, and I am turning into one of those mums who has nothing to talk about. Cinnamon was quick to spring into action, "Come out with me for so and so's birthday, you love her, and we will have a good time. I promise it will be worth whatever crazy sitter scenario you have to come up with." Six minutes into dinner, I felt like myself again. My brain which felt like it had been slowly melting, was working again. Even better, we got to the point where we laughed so hard we couldn't walk straight. 
To top it all off, Auntie Laura was there too, laughing it up. (She was sans new Cinderella Barbie, does she not realize what the role of an Auntie is?) Might I also add she was using that Cheshire Cat smile and flirting her way through the evening. 
The next morning, when I woke up I happily greeted my troops and got busy with feeding them breakfast, this time with a smile on my face. Life is good.
It's awesome, makes me want to throw on some flannel & Nirvana and dance in a mosh pit.