4 going on 40

Yeah, yeah. I know I haven't been blogging. I know. Ya see, I had this idea. I had this idea that I'd get my own cool digs in cyber space. I hired a very talented mom to make me up some cool digs (cuz you know I ain't cool all on my own). I paid money to get my own URL and all that jazz. You can go check it out if you want. www.udderlyheather.com It's there and it looks great. The only problem is a show stopper: I don't know how to use it. It is on WordPress which as it turns out is a lot friendlier to those people who are well skilled in the art of cyber stuff. I'm just a simple minded fat housewife and I know when I'm licked. So we can all just go and look at it. Admire the handy work and the great expense from Mike's hard earned money. And I guess we'll all just stay here on this old blog from Blogger.

Hells bells.

Maybe I can find someone who can move all my cool stuff from WordPress back over here to Blogger. I don't know. I don't even know if that is possible. But whatever.

I'm not on here tonight, of all nights, to just ramble and whine about my fucking blog woes. Oh no. There's a bigger, more important reason than that. Four years ago, on this very evening, I was laboring with the birth of my son, Roman Hayes.

I just cannot believe it was four years ago. He was the tiniest little guy. Really, really small at 8 lbs 3 oz. Small for my babies, at least. He was almost three weeks early. I went out and bought him a couple of preemie outfits because the little one piecers I had were fall off his narrow little shoulders.

Now he's a big boy. He goes to preschool. He's a gymnist. He can write his name. He sings and dances and loves his Mama. He's a blond like me and he has my eyes. He also has my wicked sense of humor. He's a terrible decision maker. He loves chocolate and is a snuggler. His favorite person in the whole wide world is his older sister, but he is everyone's little buddy. And he's got a temper. A hot one. Do not piss him off. When he's grown up and 6 and a half feet tall, don't say you weren't warned.

So tomorrow he turns four. I can tell you that he is very unhappy about this. You see, my little Rome is a Peter Pan. He does not want to grow up. He doesn't want to get big. He does not want to move out of the house. He wants to stay a little boy "fo evah."

This fall when we went through his old clothes and got rid of what he'd outgrown, he was devastated. Not because he was so attached to the clothes. No. He was upset that he'd actually grown. He's unhappy that people are singing him "Happy Birthday," as he doesn't want others to know that he is now 4 years old. He'd rather keep that information all to himself. That's not to say he isn't totally psyched about getting some gifts tomorrow, though. He's all about that. He'd prefer if we didn't keep reminding him that he's another year older.

Poor kid. A midlife crisis before completing preK. Thankfully, he's still got all his hair, no younger girlfriends, and he hasn't even figured out what a sports car is yet.

So folks, I'm going to go wrap him up some gifts so the day won't be a total loss for him and then I'm gonna go sneak in a snuggle before getting myself to bed. I've been messing around with that other blog for too long tonight and I'm starting to go cross eyed.

I'll post some pictures on here tomorrow. And if anyone knows anything about WP, please let me know.