Another reason that I started this blog is because I have this strange affinity for doing stupid stuff. It was only recently that I realized that other people actually enjoy laughing at my stupidity. Who am I to deprive anyone of that pleasure? So, if I do something stupid, I'll blog about it. That way, you can join in on the fun too!
I also desire to leave an impression on this world. Even if it's the smudgy fingerprints that my son leaves all over every. last. thing. in this house, it's at least something. I'm not much into scrapbooking or journaling. My photography skills are nothing short of sucky. So, blogging might be my way to leave some sort of legacy behind for my wee one to enjoy when he's all grown up and I've exhausted all possible opportunities to embarass him horribly. Heck, maybe I can even blog about those!
Let's start off the introductions, shall we? I'm Aryn. . .pronounced like the more common spelling "Erin" but my parents were hippies (yes, fugitive hippies) and they both failed spelling in school. Miserably. The most interesting thing about the spelling of my name is the fact that every.time. I have to spell it for anyone, they always have the same comment "Hmm. . .interesting spelling". Yes, I know. Thanks. I hold a deep seeded grudge against my parents for screwing up the spelling of my name. While all of the other girls ran around with the personalized hair barrets and cute little personalized license plates on their bikes or backpacks, I was stuck with a name that was so EASY to pronounce but yet no one could seem to do so. Because it was spelled wrong. But, I'm not permanently damaged as an adult. No. Not at all.
Here's a VERY rare picture of me. Of course, it's not just me, but I'm in the picture. That's rare. Seriously. There are very few pictures of me because I'm the one always behind the camera. Yeah, I think the last picture anyone took of me was before I had my son. Since then, no one has ever asked for a picture of me. Only my son. I bet you my mom doesn't even remember what I look like anymore. But, she can describe every last detail of my son. Right down to the birthmark on his butt. That's how many pictures she requires of him. But none of me. Nooooo. . .none. But, I'm not permanently damaged. No, not at all.
Speaking of my son, this is him. The cah-uuuuu-test little five year old you'll ever set eyes on. He's my little prince. And I love him. Even his butt birthmark. Luuuurve him. He also happens to be the funniest person I know. He's got the most amazing sense of humor. And he knows words that five year olds shouldn't know. And uses them in the right context. He's destined to be a rebel.
Seriously, he's just so cute. . .here is another one of my favorite pictures of him. He's the bees knees.
Okay, I couldn't resist. Just had to add one more!
And this handsome fellow is my other child. My furry child. He's a pit bull. Doesn't he look mean? Well, he's not. He's actually quite a wussy dog. He is the only dog I know who could easily take down a grown man but he totally doesn't know it. He thinks he's a Pomeranian. A little annoying one with a high pitched yap. He is a man of many names. Officially, his name is Pete. But, he's also known as Peter, Petey, Sweetie Petey, Peter Pie, PooPoos, Puppers, Pita, Pita Pit, Pete the Pit, and some others that I can't mention here because. . .well, this is a family place. 'Nuff said.
Doesn't he look ferocious? Trust me, he's not. Not in the least.
I mean, just wook at dowse eyes. Dey so pwecious! Yes, dey are!
And you HAVE to love a dog who has bat ears. I mean, look at those ears! They are a phenomenon!
Ty and Pete are best friends. They love each other. At least, Pete loves Ty. Ty, on the other hand, doesn't always share that same love. He sometimes wishes the dog would stop chasing him around when he's trying to get in the bathtub. It's weird. Very weird.
We also have a cat but he's old. And grumpy. And old. And camera shy. So, you'll just have to take my word for it that we've got an old cat. My mom can vouch for me. Yes, Mom, the cat is still alive.
With nothing else to say (for now--pick your jaw up off the floor, Mom), I welcome you to my blog. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I hope to enjoy writing it! I'll leave you with my son's favorite way to say Goodbye: "Peace Out, Homey!"