Well...sorta. It ALL really started WAY before that with my Pappap making googly eyes at his hip lady, Mummum...but to keep you from falling asleep at your desk, as far as I am concerned...it all started with this little, dirty, wonderful, frustrating, amazing gift: my son. 
God gave me this boy-gift when I was choosing all the wrong things at the wrong times in my life. God is amazing like that. He gives us gifts all the time...even when we don't see them as gifts...even when we really think that He is punishing us...even when we think we've got it all together and we can cope and we can strive and we can accomplish it ALL on our own. When we hit the bottom and are stuck in the muck...BAM! God gives us a flying dog-dragon. (Like Falcor from The Never Ending Story. You know, because he can help you out of the muck and point you in the right direction even though he looks like a scary dog-dragon and...ok, you get it!)
I'd decided that I was happy with that gift and that gift alone...assuming that awesome gifts like that only come once in a lifetime. But then God gave me another - much larger and dirtier and, if possible, quirkier, but just as wonderful - gift.
That's right.
God and I are like BFFs.
He loves me ALOT.
And so does this handsome guy:
My husband, my other half, my hunky happy homie, the peanut butter to my jelly, the crunchy-chocolaty-cookie thingies on my Carvel cake...
My gifts and I aren't perfect but we work hard at making our own "perfect" little family. Other people may see what we are and call us weird (true), crazy (most of the times), a hot mess (Lindsay Lohan ain't got nuthin on us, people!), responsible and always rushing the fam to be super early to EVERYTHING (ok, I threw that one in for my husband)...call it what you will.
I call it Dysartopia. :o)
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