I finally got a new phone yesterday.

As much as it pained me to give up my Blackberry, I was growing tired of having to remove the battery and reinstall it every time I wanted to check my email.  Plus, on Saturday I got out of the car with my hands full and dropped it on the driveway.  Then I stepped on it.  I wear a size 11 shoe.  Enough said.

After spending over two hours at the phone store yesterday, my husband and I left with brand new Droids.  On a related note:  If anyone wants to help me set up my four email accounts, there’s a doughnut in it for you.

Our kids had been more than patient while we were choosing phones and getting things changed over.  As a reward, we decided to let our son have one of the old Blackberries, so he could still play games and take pictures.

I thought he would be more interested in Hangman, but he started snapping pictures left and right.  Inside the car, in the driveway, photos of the dog’s tail, my shoes, his football.  You name it, he took a picture of it.

But it wasn’t long before I realized he isn’t so much a photographer as he is a typical boy, because when I was reading my new phone manual I looked up to see him taking pictures of his own butt.

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First of all, this is not my ear.  If you have been a long-time reader here, you know that.  Because along with my Dad’s “big bones” I inherited his gigantic earlobes.

Ironically, the last time I mentioned my ears was for the post I did about a pimple.  That post was just going to be about my pimple, but when I uploaded the picture and saw my earlobe, I felt I should acknowledge that I am aware that I look like an 80 year old…man.

So if you’ve been around here for more than a couple of years, you would know that isn’t my ear.  If you were me, however, you would know that isn’t my ear because there isn’t a mass growing out of it.

Right now, I have a pimple  here…

Only, it’s not that small.  And, there’s no white center.  And, it’s eighteen layers underneath my skin.  And, I wear glasses.  And, it’s HUGE.  And, it hurts.  You can’t really even call it a pimple.  It’s a growth.

My mom looked at it, my sister looked at it and I even made my 12 year old daughter look at it.  “Gah-ROSS, Mom!  Is that a tumor?” I wanted someone to stick a needle in my ear or Van Gogh the thing…you know, to make it feel better.  But, there is nowhere to shove a needle.  There is nothing to lance.  My ear is throbbing and everything is blurry because I can’t wear my glasses.

It’s a shame that the only part of my body that still looks like a teenager is my acne.

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My daughter was a perfect toddler.  I’m not trying to sound conceited, but I thought I was pretty great back then.  My daughter wasn’t so much an angel, as I was the ideal parent.

Then I got pregnant with my son.  Before he was born with his health issues and quirky behavior, my precious girl started saying things to me that she had never said before.  Things like, “No!  I don’t WANT to!”  Wait, what?  You were perfect!  You were so good that I went and got pregnant for another one.  I was duped!

When my son arrived, I realized the cold, hard truth.  I was just an average parent who got really lucky with the behavior of her first-born.  And, now that she is twelve, I’ve found that she’s pretty typical too.

She likes to sit in her room listening to music, she loves hanging out with her friends and she doesn’t talk to her little brother unless the conversation is an argument.  She also doesn’t always tell the truth. Dealing with this tween in our midst has become a bit of a handful.

The other night, my husband and I dropped the kids off at my mom’s house so we could attend a wake.  When we were leaving, my husband kissed our daughter on her forehead and said, “Be nice to your brother, okay?”

She replied, “I will, Dad.” 

Then he turned to our son and asked, “Buddy, you’ll be nice to your sister, right?”

Which is when we realized we have an entirely different kind of handful with this kid, when my son said, “Probably not.”

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Almost one month ago, I met some friends for dinner.  There was Amy, Christina, Wendy…oh, and ho-hum, Ree Drummond.

Yes, it has taken me nearly a month to tell you that I went to dinner with The Pioneer Woman; the N.Y. Times best-selling author and one of Forbes’ top 25 Web Celebs.  You’re lucky I’m telling you at all, because I am wildly popular and busy.  Okay, just busy.

Ree was in town for a book signing and joined us for a fabulous dinner where we had a lot of wine and I drank Ree under the table.

Or, maybe she was just looking for the lens cap I dropped.

There were also cookies as big as your face.

And, then we went for ice cream.  Splendid ice cream.

We talked, laughed and took a bundle of pictures.  Like more than I took when my kids were born.

This is the one where I told everyone to make a funny face and the only person who heard me, was me.

One of the best things about blogging is how special it is to hang out with the friends you meet online.

But, the wine and cookies as big as your face aren’t so bad either.

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