The Macbeths and the Curse of the Black Pearl[s]*

*Please note that this post has absolutely nothing to do with the first Pirates of the Carribean movie.  Although my story does involve two little pirates.  And a damsel in distress. And a place off of the Carribean. And, of course, black pearls.

See those babies up there?  Those are my black pearls.  One of the many wedding presents that Ben gave me on that special day.  But that's not where my story starts.  Let's go back to somewhere between 2002 and 2004. 

It starts in Venezuela.  That's where Ben served his mission after all.  In case you're unfamiliar with Venezuela, it's really, REALLY, RRREEEAAALLLYY creeptastic.  OK.... back to my story.  So Ben bought his future wife (or may I name her "The Best Thing That Ever Happened to Him and Gave Him the Two Cutest Kids In the Entire Universe Because She's Cool Like That and Always Has a Perfectly Clean House, a Perfectly Mild Temperment, and Is Saving The World One Blog Post and Diaper At a Time?"..... FYI the acronym for my new name would be "TBTTEHTHAGHTTCKITEUBSCLTAAHAPCHAPMTAISTWOBPADAAT."  I'll give $10 to whoever can pronounce that.)

Phew.  To make a long story short...... (read this part really quickly, or skim over it if you would prefer not to read anything creeptastic)..... Ben was robbed at gunpoint with his companion and had to give up everything that was on him, including my necklace.  So Ben had to come home necklace-less.  True story.  Start up the violins.

Fortunately for Ben when TBTTEHTHAGHTTCKITEUBSCLTAAHAPCHAPMTAISTWOBPADAAT (aka me) entered his life his parents were living in Samoa (ironically called "The Pearl of the Pacific").  So they happilly brought back a replacement for Ben to give me.  (If we were in an auditorium I would ask for applause at this point.  But on a blog that would just be weird and then you would be stuck in front of your computer with the rest of your family staring at you, wondering why on Earth you're clapping your hands... so we'll just skip that part). 

Fast forward to the present.  My kids, although incredibly adorable in pictures, aren't perfect.  They got a hold of my bracelet a while ago and decided to have a competive round of Tug of War.  Those pearls were scattered EVERYWHERE right as it was time to leave for church.  So we picked up as many as we saw and promised we'd look for the rest later.

We looked, but not all were found.  But then Lily frequently started coming up to me with her hand balled into a fist saying, "Look Mommy!" and she'd have a pearl for me.  So I made her a deal.  One mini marshmallow for every pearl.  Let's just say that child has eaten her fair share of marshmallows the last couple of weeks. 

So when I tell my kids not to grow up I halfway mean it.  It's so nice to smell their baby-ness, to see their sleeping positions, to hear their attempts at speaking English when it comes out sounding something R-rated.  I love my kids.  They're the best.  And it's also awesome that they're growing up so that when I need their help, they're there.  Although Lily's in the process of ditching her diapers for good, I'm NOT looking forward to the day when she has to return the favor by changing mine.  *shivers*  Why don't we all just take our time growing up?