I MARRIED A VERY PATIENT MAN

Being a new, small-business owner is nice, in that you can set your own hours, you can pick and choose which jobs to go for and which to pass by, and you don't have to answer to one or more bosses. But it can be rough, too. I mean, you can set your own hours, but you don't make money if you don't work. You can pick and choose jobs, but you can't guarantee that the client is going to pick you, and you have to constantly be looking for new jobs on which to bid. You don't have to answer to a boss, but you have to answer to sometimes very picky clients.

At any rate, being an owner of a new business venture, my husband works some long hours. Then, it's home to the mini-farm to help with the yard and the gardens and the cherubs. So, I like to let him rest on holidays like today. The girls don't always have the same mindset, though. So, Big Daddy will lie on the couch, trying to catch a little shut-eye, while two toddlers crawl all over him like a jungle gym.

Today, Cakes was napping, and Bean wanted a snack. So, I gave her some Goldfish (we should buy stock in Pepperidge Farm just for their Goldfish) and sent her to torture my longsuffering hubby. She was actually relatively calm at the time, and snuggled up on his sleeping frame to munch her cheesy treat.

Later, I went to check on Big Daddy. He was lying on the couch, his arm up under his head, nodding off occasionally to the Rachael Ray Show and muttering something about chili cheese fries. I knew in an instant where Bean had been sitting as she ate her afternoon snack.

Nothing like waking up with crumbled Goldfish in your armpit (note the 18-inch biceps - he's very handy when I have to lift heavy things).