Got it!

Bubby has entered the terrible twos, according to Megan. His favorite phrase has become "I got it, I got it, I got it!" chanted steadily to let Megan, Preston or any other adult know that they best not interfere with Bubby's attempt to get into his car seat himself, put on his shoes himself, throw away the garbage himself, spray the patio himself. Yep, Bubby's got it.

That, of course, is quickly followed by -- sometimes in the same day -- tears, whines and upheld arms accompanying the plea to Megan to "cuddle? cuddle?"

Not so terrible, if you ask me.

And not so different, I believe, from how most of us feel on any given day. I know this grandma certainly has her share of "I got it, I got it, I GOT it!" moments often followed by the need to just cuddle and let someone else take care of any business at hand. Sometimes in the same day.

Nope, not so terrible at all.

Got it?

Greeting card quandary

Today is my dad's birthday. He's 71 years old.

I always, always, always have a horrible time buying him a birthday card. Everything on the greeting card shelf is either sickeningly, cloyingly sweet while waxing moronic about "My dear father" being the rock and dispenser of lifesaving advice, or they're goofy greetings mentioning dear ol' Dad's obsession with his recliner and remote and/or his flatulance problem.

Neither type fit the kind of relationship I had (and continue to have) with my dad. So I stand in front of the racks of "For him" offerings for about 15 minutes, then move on to the musical ones but don't want to spend $5 on some silly chicken dance or "We Will Rock You" goofiness, then on to the "Funny: General" options because it's slightly easier to find a fitting one-liner than anything remotely sentimental.

I even consider the blank cards ... but that just seems so wrong.

I'd be oh-so happy if Hallmark would come up with something like:

Cover:

On your birthday, Dad, I want you to know ...

Inside:

... my childhood sucked.

But from the looks of things, it seems yours did, too.

I understand that now.

It no longer matters.

I'm so over it.

And I still love you.

Happy birthday!

I've yet to find such a card.

So I just settled on one from the "Funny" section. "General." For anyone.

And gosh, only three months 'til it's time to look for a Father's Day card. Maybe I'll start my own line of greeting cards before then -- cards for real people and real relationships!

Today's question:

Do you usually give sentimental greeting cards or humorous ones?

My answer: I used to give sentimental cards to everyone but in the past few years I've gotten to where I give humorous ones more often because the sentimental offerings are usually too mushy, gushy and unrealistic.

The sweet sounds of unemployment

This week has been a rough one because of the time change. It's made me pretty darn thankful that I don't have a full-time job to get up and ready for first thing each morning.

I've also been thankful for no full-time job this week because if I were working, I couldn't spend full-time hours playing grandma while Bubby and Megan are here. Sure, grandmas everywhere work and manage to get time off for hugging and loving on their grandbabies, but if I had recently found a new job, it's doubtful I'd have been allowed to take four vacation days this early on in my tenure.

So yes, I'm saying that I'm thankful I have no real job, no boss telling me what to do, no office gossip to listen to.

Instead, I've gotten to listen to the sweetest little voice ever. And here are some of my favorite things my little Bubby has said again and again, the things that just melt my heart each time he says them:

• "Kitty mow" (pronounced like "chow" not "meow")
• "Big stair," uttered each time he's confronted with a staircase he has to go either up or down. Yes, they're big stairs and yes, he's actually going up and down them -- holding on to someone's hand, of course -- despite my freakout post about stairs.
• "Big truck"
• "Big keeze," aka a big squeeze/hug
• "Big clock" upon hearing the grandather clock dong
• "Big slide" (Yep, everything's big to Bubby!)
• "Tired baby" when he's worn out
• "Whoa baby" when something's awesome
• "Hi Baby" when greeting his mommy
• "Oh my!"
• "Nonny Bunny" (his name for the bunny from his Great Grandma/Nonny Ann)
• "Oh no!"
• "Okay, okay," to let one and all know he survived a tumble
• And best of all, Bubby says very emphatically, "I ... love ... MOMMY!"

There's much more that Bubby says, and even more that he understands. Which is oh-so cool to grandma, who's trying to capture as much of it as possible on video. And who's very thankful she got to hear each and every word he said while visiting, instead of sitting at a desk and hearing yet another recap from coworkers on what happened on "Biggest Loser!"

Today's question:

Other than music, what is one of your favorite sounds?

My answer: Other than the voices of my loved ones, I love the song of the mourning dove ... and small, tinkly windchimes (not the big ones) as they're softly blown by a gentle breeze ... and the purring of a cat.

With this kiss, I thee wed

Jim and I will celebrate our Kiss Anniversary tomorrow. We used to call it our First Kiss Anniversary but we got lazy at about our 15th and it's now known by the slightly shorter name. This is our 29th year celebrating it, usually with just a card ... and a kiss.

I'm not a mushy gushy kind of person. I don't watch Lifetime television, I'm not a fan of Nicholas Sparks, and my musical preferences lean more toward hard rock than ... gosh, I don't even know the name of mushy gushy love-song singers. Oh, wait. That's probably Celine Dion or someone along those lines. That kind of music does bring a tear to my eye, but it's usually because I'm trying to control the waves of nausea that come over me when I hear anything from that genre.

That being said, I've always recalled the date of our first kiss ... but only because it was the date of my older brother's birthday. My brother wasn't there for that chaste but fateful kiss; it just happened to take place on his birthday.

It was Jim -- who's a little more mushy gushy than I -- who started the tradition of celebrating the moment that changed our lives. Only that first celebration wasn't all that fun. In fact, it scared the hell out of me and, for a few moments, I was pretty sure I wouldn't live to see another day, much less another celebration of any sort.

Jim had an apartment of his own and I lived a few blocks away with my mom and sisters. We lived in an old house that had only a bathtub, no shower. And I hated taking only a bath. Jim had a shower, and I regularly drove the few blocks to take a shower at his place.

This one particular day, the date of our first kiss anniversary (although I didn't consider it any big deal) Jim was leaving for work as I was arriving to use his shower. Like I said, we kissed hello, kissed goodbye, he headed to work, I headed for the shower.

As I got out of the shower, I heard noises. In the apartment. An apartment that wasn't in the best part of town and had creepy weird guys living upstairs. I froze and listened. Yep, there was someone in the tiny apartment, moving stuff around, going through Jim's record collection.

What do I do? I searched the cabinets for a weapon and found nothing more than a brush and a Bic shaver. I held my ear to the door. Still there was shuffling. I couldn't open the door -- my clothes were in the bedroom and I refused to be seen naked by some killer. I couldn't climb out the window for the very same reason ... plus, I'd already checked it and there was no way I'd be able to reach the opening far above my head.

I sat on the toilet lid and started to cry, as silently as possible so the killer wouldn't realize there was some frightened naked girl hiding out in the bathroom.

Then music started playing. The killer had put on a record. A Led Zeppelin record ... one of the more mellow songs. Well, if he's playing "Thank You" or something similarly sweet from Zeppelin, he can't be that mean and horrible of a killer ... but a killer just the same.

I once again assessed my situation. No weapon, no way out, no clothes. And no choice. I had to get out of there.

I slowly, quietly turned the door handle ... and cracked open the door, trying to survey the tiny bit of the living room I could see. I heard music, but saw no one. I wrapped the towel tighter around myself and crept into the hallway. Peeking around each corner, it became obvious that the killer had left.

But wait! The killer had left something on the table. I scooted closer and closer ... and found a Hostess Ding Dong on a saucer, one lit candle in its center. And a greeting card next to it.

"Freakin' crazy," I thought to myself as I opened the card, imagining serial killer scenarios involving wooing the victim into eating Ding Dongs and listening to Zeppelin as the killer stealthily dropped from the ceiling brandishing a long, sharp blade of some sort.

No serial killer dropped. And my heart swelled as I read the card: "Happy 1st Kiss Anniversary. Love, Jim."

While I showered, Jim had dashed to the store, grabbed the celebratory goods, arranged them on the table and turned on our version of a love song. Yep, this was the guy for me, the guy I'd spend the rest of my life with.

And the guy who almost made a scared, naked me crawl through a tiny opening in the bathroom in hopes of escaping some wacko Ding Dong-obsessed, Zeppelin-lovin' killer.

Now that I think of it, maybe it's that, the manner in which the first anniversary of our first kiss was recognized, that makes it a date impossible to forget. It really has nothing to do with it being my brother's birthday after all.

Regardless, I'm glad to still be celebrating Kiss Anniversaries with Ding Dong-obsessed, Zeppelin-loving Jim.

I'm even more glad I didn't smash out that bathroom window and shimmy through the shards of broken glass to save my naked butt from an imaginary killer. I'm pretty sure Jim wouldn't have stuck around to celebrate a second kiss anniversary if that had been the end result of his sweet gesture.

Today's question:

What's one non-traditional celebration you share with your loved ones?

My answer: In addition to the Kiss Anniversary, we had family-only Period Parties when each of the girls had their first period. The honoree received a box of sanitary pads, we ate Black Forest cake (ya know, the cherries and all), and we blasted Urge Overkill's version of "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon." It was a tongue-in-cheek way to mark a major milestone in the lives of our little women.

Fave photo of the week

'Twas a happy birthday for Jim!

Brianna, Jim and Andrea

Today's question:

What expression do you normally have on your face?

My answer: Concentration. I have to occasionally remind myself to stop furrowing my brow and open my eyes in wide surprise to reverse the big ol' wrinkle thinking too hard creates between my eyes. My mind is always going 631 miles an hour -- and not necessarily on anything of any importance.