Better Together

 As Ricardo and I creeps up on (excuse me for a second as I think about how funny I am for typing "creeps"..) our six year wedding anniversary (the 19th) and I try to think about what I have to say about him and our marriage, I realize I've already pretty much told our story (here and here) and how ridic lucky I am (here, here, and here).  I remember our first year together whining to him about how we should be better together and how frustrated I was that we were nothing if crazier because of one another.  We like to recall those first months of marriage as much as possible, so funny to think about, and embarrassing, but mostly comical yes.  I was a brat (urrrrrrm still am) and he had some anger issues.  We were a hot hot mess of babies thinking we knew a thang or two about love and marriage and clearly we so did not. Ahem, and do not.  But standing here on the other side of six years next to a man who is so obviously my better half and has given me a better life than I dreamed I'd get to live.. I can't remember the last time I've fretted about us not bringing out each other's best (even if it means having to weed through the worst to get there).
  We're still a bit of a mess, but this mess looks a little less drama and a lot more serious life being lived by a partnership of two polar opposites.  And the hilarious one of us who looks cute in glasses  (hint: not Ricardo), well she ain't ever gonna stop being the mess of a challenge that she is, just the way her man likes her.

This is the part of the post where I write a 2nd grade style poem for my husband.
Enjoy Ricardo.  Yes, this is your gift.  You're welcome.

If you're Johnny, I'm your June.
If you're a fork, I'm your spoon
(or maybe we're a spork 'cause clearly that's most efficient)
If you're the stars, I'm the moon,
If you're the AM, I'm your noon.
Together our lives play a prettier tune,
You and me jack is def the Lord's doin'.

Heritage

 Last Friday we trekked the few hours to visit with Ricardo's grandparents on his grandpa's 92nd.  I had to hold it together as I watched Roc snuggle into his great grandpa's lap while he stroked his back, kissed his forehead, and repeatedly asked him, "Do you know I'm your grandpa, and I love you?"  I wanted to bottle the day up for my boys, the simpleness of it all, the slow ease of just sitting around talking about life with two beauties who have lived it well.  Our boys are blessed to have four healthy grandparents, but great grandparents are such an unexpected treasure.  Ninety plus years of life is a true triumph.  If grandpa Arredondo was telling us how crazy it was to drive with three adults and four babies in a pick up truck from Ohio to Texas in the 50's or grandma was giving a play by play of their last doctors visit, I hung on every word.  With each almost a century of wisdom and stories to share I tried my darnedest to inscribe their words in my memory.
  Spending time with them always makes me miss my own grandma who passed when I was 17...  I grew up spanning the minute or so walk across the field that separated our houses to visit and of course snag one of the donuts always to be found on her kitchen table.  She was always up for a board game (Candy Land was our favorite), or to read me a book  (I usually choose The Pokey Little Puppy, because she was silly enough to change "pokey" to "poopy" and obv that's pure gold); the voices from a game show or soap were our background music.  When I think of my grandma, always clad in polyester and smelling of powder, I remember best the secure feeling of her comforting, predictable, dependability, the stable love that every child should have the privilege of knowing.  I cherish every story she told of being raised in the country in a simpler time, falling in love with a Polish farm boy and becoming the momma to his nine babies (one of which was my dad), and all the blessings and tragedies that followed.  The legacy that flowed through her now flows through me and will travel on through the bubbas that I wish she could have met.
  One day when our kids are old enough to wonder and ask with curiosity about their roots, there will be stories filed away to pass on of a heritage that is so rich with life that they'll feel the weight of it in their very bones.

Sunshiny Spring

The rain clouds and chilly air are finally rolling away and beckoning in glorious, refreshing, legit, pretty, bird chirping, spring.  I can't get the windows and doors open quick enough each morning "Oh it's only 39 out yet?  Sorry bubbas, throw a blanket on, and inhale some fresh air!"  We don't mess in this house, May 1st the shorts come out and jackets are nowhere to be found.  I used to crave the coziness of winter, until I had a house full of boys whose energy is best worn away outside.  My springtime definition of cozy is curled up in my chair with a cup of coffee and heavenly peace and quiet while the crazies find the one quarter ounce of water outside, mix it with 57 pounds of dirt to create mud- which they cover themselves in, and bang on tree trunks with whatever they can find, all the while slowly stripping off clothing.  My backyard basically turns into a Survivor episode.  And can we discuss how over the top sweet those boys are, bringing me "flowers" every time they venture out?  After I gush over the dandelions that make me sneeze if I get too close, I say, "Put them with the others." because there's an endless pile.  Sunshiny 70s, thanks for chasing away the gray, lets be BFF mmkay?  Spring done sprung ya'll.

If Momma Ain't Happy

   I remember when I was a kid my mom wore this white sweatshirt that said, "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!".  Just the sight of it got me all annoyed, thinking, "Like, what is that even supposed to mean?!".  Three kids later, I sure as heck know what it means, and you'd better believe the papi around here does too.  We mothers, well our attitudes and dispositions set the tone for the whole house and everyone else's day.  We work ourselves raw trying not to screw our offspring up, and though we know we hold the most important roles of our lifetime, it's so nice when that loving care is noticed.   Especially when presents are involved in the noticing.
   So dads, even if she isn't the lady that likes a fuss, help the kids with the cheesy crafts and cards for mom, and get your booty to the store to buy not only your momma, but your baby momma something sweet.  Hint: carnations are never the right option for any occasion.  Ever.  And if your name is Ricardo, and all three of my sons bear half your genes, and you quote movies like it's your job, and last year you may have bought your wife carnations in a temporary bought of insanity... redemption is in sight husband, I included a virtual wish list for you (and any other men who might need a clue).  You're welcome.  Now go hug a mom.

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Roc: 5 Years

     Roc,
   do you realize you've turned into a straight up kid on me- a legit school aged kid?  First of all I'm not old enough to have a kid in school, second of all, stop it- stop the growing up, pronto!  You are my firstborn, our parenting skills tester and bubba, tested us you have.  We've had a crazy beautiful ride together these last five years and as you're exiting the preschooler phase and entering KIDville, I'm not a bit worried how these years will go..you've warmed us up well to this parenting gig already; five and beyond- this is our time to shine.
  You know daddy and I are proud of you, and that we truly don't see a ceiling to the possibilities that you're capable of with your confidence, passion, and charisma (not to mention drop dead good looks).  You have been breaking my heart with how ridiculously sweet you've become, constantly bringing me treasures, praying over me, and making sure I'm taken care of.  And the way you talk to and watch over our baby Zea is almost too much for my heart to bear.  Yesterday, minutes after you had brought me flowers you asked, "Momma, can I hold Hosea for you so you can sit down and eat some lunch?" Be still my heart, you know your momma loves flowers and more importantly, to eat.  You are so your daddy's son and it brings me inexpressible joy to imagine you with a family of your own one day, they will be so blessed by you!
  I love you so deeply son, you have taught me more valuable things about life than I ever dreamed I needed to know.  Just thinking on you loosens up my heart strings, you are more than I prayed for and exactly who I needed for a first bubba.  Thanks for being mine.  Always.

                                                                           

Cuddle me anytime handsome,

 Momma

Seven Months In

Seven months have passed since we've been licensed foster parents, and to think back on who I was and the ideas about fostering I possessed just last fall, makes me smile a bit.  I'm a different lady today, a better lady, and feel about 10 years older in the best sort of way.  We had two full of life, brown skinned beauties in our hearts and homes before our license even arrived in the mail.    Adding a two and three year old on with our two and four year old and being in my third trimester was crazy, exhausting, more than I could handle and still straight up Jesus.  There were tears, and texts to Papi resembling, "The second you get home from work I have to get out of here." and conversations to God resembling, "I can't Lord, there isn't enough of me to go around, they all need more good from me than I'm able to give, they deserve better.".  And yet, still Jesus knew best, and I am so glad- on all of our behalf's.
  As Hosea's due date drew near and the kids met the respite family that they'd be staying with while we were in the hospital and transitioning a newborn in, I melted with relief at how absolutely to the tee the respite match was; no other kids, Christians, super sweet, and their home was basically the Fort Knox of baby gates that not even Juanito could master.  Exactly what I wanted for them.  We were pumped to hear that the bubba wasn't taking aggression out on his sister there and because so, the possibility of them being separated was off the table.  As we settled in with our chunkilicious newborn, I asked God for His best all around, and begged Him, "Please please pleeeease don't let me have to make the decision of what's best for those babies, I can't."  And He didn't.  Oh the sweet joy of knowing they are in a home that is handpicked for them, and despite how my heart misses them Monday-Friday, they get to spend weekends with our wild crew who loves them to pieces.  Some kids are thrown into the system with not a single adult to fight for them, these two, they have four.
  We're still newbies when it comes to fostering, but the much it has changed us in the last half a year is so precious.  The ugly that had to be worked out to let more love in.  The having it all together that became to look more like coming apart at the seams.  The obedience that sometimes requires sacrifice.  The humbling realization of how much He can do with a willing heart that knows its part.  Worth it- so worth it.  Becoming foster parents has been such a refining process for us, one that has opened the eyes of our hearts to see that as much as we try molding the gifts that come into our lives, we're the ones that are getting kneaded into shape the most.

An ER Heart Change

  Friday night after days of coughing spells that lead to violent vomiting, Papi ran our Hosea to an after hours children's clinic down the street while I entertained a few mommas that were over for a movie night.  His vitals, breathing, and X-rays looked good, but the doctor didn't trust the horrid cough that rocked his squishy frame.  "Pneumonia maybe?" she questioned, and told Papi it was best we head to the hospital for observance.  My girl Shelly dropped me off to meet them and on the short ride we discussed what a hater Satan is, and how he uses our babies, what we hold most dear, to scare us..ironic though that the fear he wishes to instill so quickly turns to confident faith and only draws us closer to our God.  
  I've never stepped foot in an emergency room until that night and the overflow of misery and helplessness overwhelmed me.  Effortlessly my mind whizzed back the two months prior to me rocking my one day old bubba in the NICU, surrounded by the whir of countless machines assisting teeny babes with life, without another momma in sight.  It's a memory that still stings to recall, and whispers for me to hold my boy a little closer while I consider those with less to rejoice about.
  Thankfully six hours of examination later, with a few American Pickers episodes under our belts and the comfort of our beds on our mind, we were sent home with news that he looked to have "small airways disease" and RSV.  As it had the last time Hosea threw us into a world of medical professionals and uncertainty, my heart left a little different..lighter in knowing my God had come through again, yet heavier in knowing that most of the helpless we rubbed shoulders with were also hopeless and unaware of an Abba who fights for them.
  I've seen enough heartache to remember in my relief and joy, that some never leave the hospital with their babies, or despite their longing to have children- never feel life inside them, or never know how it feels to be loved, wanted, or accepted.  A thankful heart has a way of becoming a humble heart.  And as I send up gratitude, I can't help but hurt for those who may be waiting for their miracle or to meet The One who performs them.

Empty Tomb, Full Life

For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors. And the ransom he paid was not mere gold or silver. It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God. 1 Peter 1:18, 19 
  I stumbled across these two verses over the weekend, they caught my attention and have kept my heart distracted since.  Ironic, that amiss Easter celebration that I needed my attention pointed back to the reason for it all, so very me, always missing the forest for the trees.  1 Peter 1:18 and 19 grabbed me so tightly I think because I've been struggling for a bit with how as Christians we can lead such casual, purposeless lives and not realize what blatant contradiction those adjectives should be next to the description of a Christ follower.  So many lovely Christian people (including my own lovely self) are hung up on bitterness, insecurity, and pride and though our hearts yearn for more, we're stuck and so (unintentionally) consumed with the inward battles, that we miss the remedy Peter wrote about; "the precious blood of Christ."  I don't believe Jesus went through hell (so to speak) solely to bring us to heaven.  He saved us from our sins, death, and, maybe the biggest element holding us back, ourselves.  He paid our priceless ransom over 2000 years ago, to set us free (Galatians 5:1) from our empty lives and to make them look the absolute opposite, full (John 10:10).
  The frivolousness and temporal that so easily beckons me has got to be suffocated by purposefulness and love, and in such fullness that it spills onto anyone I cross paths with.  We have but one life a piece, as followers of Christ the only thing empty should be in reference to, is the tomb.  The very tomb He overcome so we could have life more abundant, on earth as it is in heaven.

Real Talk: Tips for a New Momma

It's funny how much advice people have for you when they find you're expecting your first baby, by child number three fortunately the advice tapers off when they figure it ain't your first rodeo.  Being three deep and finding that most advice didn't apply to moi, I have a few priceless morsels of wisdom that I like to lay on any pregger within a five mile radius.  And friends, because I just know you'll ask- Yes, I've totally considered writing a book about my expert tips for child carrying, birthing, and raising..my expertise in this matter are just that legit.

 1. The second you see the positive lines on the pregnancy test, find another preg momma to be buds with.  Even if it's the check out girl at Kroger or the neighbor that gives you the stink eye 24/7 because she's jeal of how killer you look in sweats and a top knot; make that preg-mance happen.  You will surely thank me when the ugliness of pregnancy rears it's head and your man doesn't come close to getting it.  Also, make sure your new BFF has unlimited texts, 'cause you're about to blow up her phone with endless messages containing extreme details about what you're craving, how many times you used the toilet in the last hour, and (in the last trimester especially) who you'd like to backhand.

2.  Embrace eating whatever the hey you want to.  Few things will make you happy during the nine months of pregnancy..so, give in to third dinner, order those fries biggie size, shout an "Aww heck yeah!" when asked if you'd like seconds, and do yourself a favor and don't think about the calories consumed.  Live it up ladies, we have the rest of our lives to be on diets and think we look chubby, pregnancy is our chance to throw caution to the wind and blame all 57 pounds gained on our 6 lb. 2 oz. baby.

3.  Don't go into pregnancy/labor/parenthood with many expectations.  You may think you won't get stretch marks because you bathe in cocoa butter eight times a days or that breast feeding will be a heavenly experience because you've mastered the football hold (yet to meet a momma who has used pleasant or appropriate words to describe the first few weeks) or that you'll never have "that child" in the grocery store that screams at the top of his lungs and knocks over the entire display of Grey Poupon (just please be the momma who tears that booty up once you hit the parking lot), but you will probably be wrong about all of that.  We all have our pre-kid judgments and ideals, and we all feel like idiots when we realize we don't know everything and clearly cannot control the    universe, let alone a toddler.

4.  Don't be the competitive/obsessive parent.  Please do yourself and your child a favor by NOT measuring either of your skills or qualities up to anyone else's.  On Baby Center a few months ago I read a post from a momma bragging that her two day old could "crawl " and asking other mommas to post ways their newborns were "advanced."  I died laughing, and then realized- she.was.serious, and so were the 98 other women who posted replies (*cough* get a grip women *cough*).  There's nothing wrong with being proud of our children, but check yourself when every conversation veers back to little Louisa and how she can speak six languages.  And get real, she'll be two one day and be screaming, "NO! I don't want the purple bear!" (when that's exactly what she wants), in Portuguese, and I'm pretty sure it'll sound just as obnoxious as it does in English. Ay caramba.

5.  Bring your parenting insecurities and worries to the original D.A.D. and creator of all things wonderful (i.e. coffee, clearance racks, McDonald's fries, you, me, Target, and your bundle of joy); God.  I would lose my ever loving mind if I didn't know Him and His endless supply of clean slates when I'm sure I've screwed my kids up for life or perspective when they're working on my last nerve.  No life experience has taught me more about the Father's grace and love than mommahood.  I don't believe you can parent to your full potential without the truth that your babies are entrusted gifts from God etched in your heart.  Friend, parenthood is not for the faint of heart (nor is life in general) so push all of your plans, woes, selfishness, and control issues out the window, hand Him the keys, and in your loudest most heartfelt twang, belt out, "Jeeeeesus take the wheeeeeeeeel..".  Seriously.

You're welcome.

Romi: 3 Years

Pickle,
 you are such a dang joy.  Aunt Alyssa asked me the other day if I could believe you're turning three and I answered, "Yeah, he's just so serious and mature, it's hard not to think he's older."  Your whole life you've been that way you know, so adult, and I crazy love that about you son.  Even at your worst, you are so easy for me to parent, I just get you.  Your combo of honesty and knowing what you want on top of being a complete individual can get you into trouble when you're feeling mouthy (not to mention your deadly stink eye), but like your daddy you are quick to apologize and let it be.  You def have a hilarious, imaginative, and sweet side as well and have us cracking up and filled with heartfelt pride on the reg.  You are a perfect middle bubba, being that you aren't the typical obnoxious lil bro and you're a crazy sweet and protective big brother to Hosea.  There wasn't much "terrible" about your twos, heck you potty trained yourself and I don't recall a single tantrum (though we are surely working on your sass), so I'm super psyched to see what year three has in store for us.  I'm sure three will be exactly what you want it to be, 'cause I know my bubba, and you won't settle for anything less.  I love you so so much Roman Atticus, God knew what was up when He introduced you and your ridic handsomeness into our lives three years ago..thanks for being you.:)


                                                       
                                                              Love you more than three
                                                             years gives me time to show,
                                                                  Momma

Six Weeks Young

Hosea Cruz,
  it's only been six weeks, but you have captured every inch of my heart.  Literally from the second your slimy, chunky, pink self was plopped on my belly and we got to snuggle and gaze at each other for such a nice long time before the nurse took you off to do all the little things they do to fresh newborns..you've been mine.  I try to recapture those first precious minutes of your life numerous times a day, I just don't want to let that cherished memory slip away.  I can't put the emotions that well up in me every time I see you into words, but if I attempted to I'd use: bliss, peace, and complete contentment.  You are such a gift to our family and have fit in seamlessly.  Your brothers get in trouble countless times a day for being in your biz, touching you, and trying to wake you up; drives your momma up the wall, but you sure do love them.  You just got over the flu and when we took you in for a re-check, as the doctor cradled you in her arms and coo'ed, she said "Aww, you're just not old enough to smile back yet." and Roc said to her so confidently, "Well, he smiles at me all the time." and as she laid you down on the crinkly white paper atop the exam table and Roc tickled your cheek, sure enough, your eyes lit up, lips formed into a smile, and a dimple appeared.  You will never be hurting for lovin' in this family my boy.
  You sleep better than many toddlers I know (PTL), are crazy sweet, are already rolling over both ways (oooh boy), and make having three bubbas seem no different than two.  I want to bottle your newborness up and not let you age another second, for you always to be my teensy bubba that I'll stop whatever for, to let you fall asleep on my chest. But I'm also letting myself be just a bit curious about who God is shaping you into.  Speaking of Him, God has used you to rekindle my faith in prayer as well, through the tranquility your first weeks ushered into my life, and in the complete healing He did on your squishy body.  God is so good son, you are yet a newborn and He has already preformed miracles in your little life!
  Lord knew our four pack needed a fifth.  I don't know how we did life without you, our Zea Cruzer, but these last six weeks have been some of the absolute most sweet and treasured of mine.  




                                                                                   Love you so bad it's good,
                                                                                   
                                                                                        Momma

Zea's Crib

When we found out Hosea baby was a boy, the only ounce of disappointment in me was because I wouldn't get to put together a little momma's nursery (okay, or buy tutus, sweater dresses, and jeggings too).  His room is def a work in progress, but the whole collected look is my style anyway.  I'd estimate that 98% of the room is filled with thrifted, handmade, or things we already had.  A lot of the details (wall map, globe, chair) came from old schools, so I'd like to think the vibe is a simple vintage classroom.  The look probably isn't everyone's jam, but I'm pumped that it's eclectic and boyish enough that it'll easily grow with Zea, and be real- it cost us next to nothing (picture me raising the roof).  And the maps, siiiigh, I'm still deciding whether maps or coffee is my love language, I got it bad for maps.  So whoop there it is yaaa'll, I'm no Nate Berkus, but heck yesss, in my heart I pretend we are BFF's and have coffee dates where we discuss life and design and obv how awesome we both are.  

Moving On Up

Source

I hate when I get stuck in a rut (especially since I love my life and it's exactly what I have prayed for). The mundane day to day routine has a way of being both soothing and suffocating for me. Drama, I tell ya.  My newborn high is tapering off as I now snuggle an almost five week old, and I can't make excuses from participation in life that sound something like, "Well, I just had a baby for Pete's sake!" (though I'm obviously too cool to ever say "Pete's sake").  I'm placing a portion of the blame of this melancholy mood I'm at the tail end of, on the sickness that's been plaguing our house for two weeks (which is the same dang sickness that scooped up everything good about birthdays and left me not realizing until a few days ago that, whoa..I turned a year older (and without any cake)).  I'm not great at choosing joy when in multiple arenas I'm weary, and to be honest this "spiritual dry spell" of a rut has been more like months, than weeks.

  While I'm trying to shoot for joy over my not-so-cheery auto pilot emotions, I've been thinking about the book of Ecclesiastes.  I've been dissecting this season in my life, the innumerable lessons I've seen the fruit of, but too, how strangely simple it is to get accustomed to the valleys in life and forget that they're merely pit stops on the way up the mountain.  God has been here in this lower altitude with me, I have zero doubts about that.  I can feel His super gentle nudge to start moving forward, to leave the excess baggage behind and bring only the essentials for my journey up.  But (and I've always been an expert with the "but's") the climb yonder always involves exhaustion and patience and endurance and drive and slipping..stumbling..sometimes even falling, and I don't like to start things I'm not sure I can finish.  He's a gentleman of course though, He's waiting for me to get my booty in gear, take my eyes off my own ridiculously minuscule life and see what the big picture view looks like from the top.  It's time to leave this valley I've come to find so much double sided comfort in, in the dust, and start heading towards the skies.  

If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.
   C. S. Lewis 

Closet Needs

It's been a minute, okay, probably years, since I've revamped my wardrobe.  Knowing though that after I popped the Zea Cruzer out I would hopefully get my bod back (10 pounds and counting) I stashed some cash in my sock drawer until the time came to hit up the mall and buy some specific things that my closet is lacking.
  I am the cheapest sister you'll probably ever meet, and have zero pride when it comes to walking straight to the clearance racks at any store I hit up, "Yes cute sales clerk you can help me, by pointing my thrifty booty directly to the 70% off rack!"  I can't enjoy something that I paid too much for and won't buy something that I don't love, no matter how cheap.  I usually only buy things I need too...which really is the purpose of the above visual shopping list I made (and apparently this whole little post of words to go along with the images).
  I'm basically a vintage tee, blue jean, and flats kinda momma.  And I don't prefer too trendy or too bright or anything that involves any muffin toppage.  My style hasn't evolved much since senior year of high school and I'm okay with that, comfy and classic works for me.  The majority of the labels in my closet are Gap, H&M, Target brands, AE, and thrifted finds.  Very few designer names grace my hangers, but can we please address the Marc Jacobs bag above?  I have a slight preoccupation with Marc Jacob's hand bags, other purses can't compete, it's like Michael Kors and watches- perfection..expensive perfection.
  That's all folks, you deserve a hug for reading through this frivolousness or probably something better, perhaps a brownie, two brownies if you pretended to care when I listed where I shop.;)

Lately

I'm feeling... peaceful, maternal, euphoric.  Knowing Hosea will be my last bio newborn bub, I'm holding on to this stage's coat tails for dear life.  There are few things that I adore more than a fresh teensy babe that just wants to snuggle and sleep all day and I'm committed to savoring every second of littleness Hosea has to offer me.  The kid has hijacked my life and I ain't even mad about it.

I'm anticipating... the next few days of birthday celebration.  I already stumbled upon a (not so well hidden) little Tiffany's bag  (#welldonePapi), I'm getting my hair done, spending time with a few different friends, dinner with my guys, and outlet shopping and dinner with my fam.  I've never been much for birthdays, but I'm getting used to being spoiled on occasion.;) I have no doubts that 27 will be my best year yet.

I'm contemplating...  what "big picture" thing(s) God is calling me to, obviously foster care (We kinda switched roles with kids' respite family and they'll be staying with them during the week and we'll get them weekends.  Such an answer to prayer.  So pumped that they'll continue getting tons of needed attention and have so many people caring for them.) but I know there's something  more.  Anxious to see what He has and to step into that.

I'm working on... finding a good weekday balance now that I have two less toddlers and one newborn.  I need to establish what the boys and I need more of (i.e. Jesus, coffee, fun outings, school work) and less of (i.e. TV, my grouchiness).  Really want all of our days to be purpose filled, even if we're in our sweats.

I'm wanting... to make healthy living a priority.  Once Zea Cruzer is two months we can all hit up the gym and I've been pinning some new healthy recipes to try.  It's not about those last 10 pregnancy pounds, more about extra years and energy, but get serious..I'm wanting a hot bod too.