The Good & The Bad

Almost everyday when my husband comes home, we talk about the best part of our day and the worst part of our day.

Usually my husband goes the easy way out and will say the best part is coming home, worst part is leaving us. I rarely always pry a better answer out of him. :)

I thought I would share this talking point because it honestly can get people talking. (Maybe you have quiet kids and they come home from school with the usual "fine").

The best part of our week:

Side note: Ahem. We can't possibly list all of the good things that happen in one week, these are just some of the wonderful things. 

Is there anything more beautiful?

:: Snow! Seriously. When you don't have to drive anywhere, I think you appreciate it more. I finally got my snow and I was as happy as can be for a good 3 days..until it melted.

:: My husband surprised me and cleaned the whole house before church last Sunday. I was out jogging and called to wake him up when I was on my way back. He sounded..different..and said he had to go somewhere. I came home and he was dusting, vacuuming, and cleaning the toilet. Yes ladies-- he is amazing. No, he doesn't have any brothers. :)

:: I started walking the neighbor's dog across the hall. Fenway is a super sweet lab puppy. Not only am I getting my "puppy fever" fix, I have decided I never in my life want a big dog (that sheds). I'm sorry, I don't know how you people do it! Big shout out to owners of large dogs. :)

Note the water bottle. We love it! More on that back here.

:: Snuggles. Nothing better than seeing my two boys cozied up!

...And the bad:

:: When it first snowed, we were super excited to walk the dogs and see how they would react. First time they loved it and we could not be out there long enough (half hour was my limit). The second time? After twenty minutes Cocoa started limping and shaking. I assumed she was having a seizure (she's epileptic) so I stayed calm and we walked toward the stairs. Wrong! Then I noticed Oreo doing the exact same thing! By this point I assumed the salt to melt the snow was slowly killing my kids (hey-- they're all I've got!). After a frantic phone call I figured they simply got too cold, and that was their reaction. The moment we got into the stairwell they were completely normal-- chasing each other up the stairs and growling/biting each other. Really? Is it necessary to give your mom a heart attack?