Your Momma's A Heifer

Ah, this child. This child is a clone of me -- talkative, emotional, the life of the party, clumsy, and always gets stuff on his face when he eats. Okay, the last one is his daddy's trait. I am a lady. And dainty. And a respectful, classy woman. {Burp} Sorry, I just drank a coke and ate a banana. It'll make the Pope burp his ABCs. I've seen it. Anyhoo -- this child. Oh this sweet precious angel baby that was sent from heaven but visits Satan's playground occasionally. And he lights up my world. LIGHTS IT UP. When I walk in the door he runs and hugs his momma showering me with kisses and slinging some crazy phrase my way -- Yesterday he threw this at me, "Why my my my --look at those happenin shoes." See? Made in my image, I'm tellin ya...In my image. Last week I walked in and he said, "Kiss me now sweet baby." I'm beggin him to give IJ some lessons.Today though -- oh today.....He bounded in the front door and wanted to know what was for supper -- and then flew the refrigerator door open and consumed a dozen oranges and three bags of grapes before he even put his backpack down. Then I look at his and said, "HELLO WASH YOUR HANDS WERE YOU BORN IN A BARN?!?!" And his sweet, loving responce back???

"Only if my momma was a heifer. Were you?" At that point and time I pulled out the medieval torture chamber and shock treatment.

Punk.

Mouth Guards, Meditation, and Mammaw

As we are all painfully aware, I narrowly avoided being the coach and mentor to 10 little four to six year olds. Which is a good thing. Cause they expected me to talk about football. I had to put all the pom pom, glitter and glue sticks away. There were havin no part of that. Obviously, they do not value the important things in life -- like craft day.
Anyhoo -- since the stork got confused and dropped of male spawn into my humble adobe, I thought I mise well get use to it and learn a little about the pig skin. (Please not my intense PROPER use of football and sports gamey vocabulary throughout this post. Men, take note. You might learn something. What? Hello? I have no male readers? Details Schmetails.)

Also please realize in all these pictures, I am the mother on the side lines (vocab 1) with a Nikon camera, spikey black boots, Dr Pepper lip gloss, and a cashmere sweater shoutin

"GO SWEETIE GO! Put em in a highchair, sock em in the jaw. Flush em down the toilet Rah Rah Rah!" My 95 year old Mammaw taught me that cheer from the days she was a cheerleader in Mauckport, Indiana. It's tradition and all now.

So let me explain this game to you -- First, this one boy with his hands between his legs snaps (vocab 2) the ball to my Spawn. Apparently, my spawn is the Quarter Back (vocab 3) on the play. What I like is the way his curls bounce -- he is so J Crew. Next my Spawn realizes he has no clue what he is doing (he gets this from his mother) so he hands the ball to his friend who is yellin SOMEBODY GIVE ME THE BALL. He is such an obedient child.

And this one? This one is socializing. Making some friends and influencing people. Now I COULD HAVE coached if I would have known this was involved!
20 minutes later -- yeah, same thing. "Great weather we are havin, huh? I love what you did with your jersey!"

Ever so often he comes over to the sidelines to give his momma a kiss. I make him take his spit-infested germ-spreading mouth guard out. It is a nice shade of blue tho.

Five minutes later he is back for another kiss. "Take your mouth guard out, sweetie" Uhm- WAIT. I thought it was blue. WHO'S MOUTH GUARD DO YOU HAVE?" Apparently they share. HELP ME BABY JESUS. SAVE ME ORTHOPEDIC SURGEONS FROM AROUND THIS LAND!

Meanwhile, back on the field....My son CATCHES a BALL and RUNS!

TOUCHDOWN!!!! Did you see that BT? BT? BAAABY TWERP, Where are you? Uhm, I think mediation is more his thang. I go to hug MT and give him a high five then hit him on the butt -- cause that is what all the cool kids do on TV - then I notice something...

"Hey, is that your brother's mouth guard?"
That ruined it all.

We Love and Embrace All

Soooo, we had "Culture Fair" at school this week. Each child was suppose to dress up to represent and celebrate a different type of culture.

Uhm, we are from Vanillaville. (If you don't believe me, ask Marchelle.)

We have no culture to share. We wear jeans and t-shirts and paint our walls bright bold colors, like mocha. I am telling you -- Vanillaville.

So I stretched it a little bit. I mean BT was born in Oklahoma and all.

I thought it was quite the creative Native American costume. The story of the American roots and the way. I was quite proud. Until I got this email at work --

"We are trying to celebrate BT's culture. But are unsure of some things. Could you please help us? Is he Native American or Jewish?"

Why can't he be a Jewish Native American? Why can't we love and embrace all? Why we gotta be all into the labels? I'm just sayin.

The Dunk Tank

Since Indiana Jones was running a marathon this weekend, we decided to get a hotel downtown so he could be on the starting line at crack o'dawn thirty.

It also allowed for the spawn to swim and for me to pretend we were at the beach. If you closed your eyes and held sea shells up to your hears and asked IJ to fan a palm leave at your face -- it was prit near the real thang. (Hypothetically speaking of course)My only rule -- I didn't wanna get my hair wet. It's a girl thang.
Oh silly silly me. What was I thinking .....
Telling three unruly Twerps that -- I didn't want to get wet was the equivalent to tellin me not to buy new shoes - -the temptation was more than one could handle...

ET totally did that on purpose -- Punkette.

But I am a lover not a fighter..I accept and embrace all. Mistakes happen and I was ready to forgive and move on. Give me some hugs and press forward.Uhm, wait a minute!

WAIT! PUMP THE BREAKS!

Are you trying to dunk me?? Ahh, I think I'm going down, like James Brown. HOLD MY NOSE! HOLD MY NOSE!

Help me Baby Jesus. Save me Oprah Winfrey. Tom Cruise, use your witchcraft to protect me! I feel the power of the frizz upon me.

It was over. I had been immersed -- I just embraced it and moved forward.

But this one?

This one relished in his glory

He was talkin smack about the take down of his momma.And he threatened me with his ninja skillz....

That's all I needed to hear -- I was out for the night and askin "Do you all have Cupcake Wine? Cause it makes me careless about my lack of make-up, frizzy hair, and best part of it all -- it makes my skirt fly up." IJ where art thou???

Help Me Rhonda

I need you now. More than words can say. I need you now. Before I lose my mind....

I need you. Because I can't make a decision to save my life. When multiple options are faced before me, my palms start sweating, my heart palpitates, and then I have to pee -- cause my bladder runneth over. Sorry, but it's true. I'm just keepin it real.

Anyhoo -- I have a decision to make. And decisions are not so much my thang. Neither is orange. It clashes with my pink undertones.

So most normal, sane human beings would just hunker down and make the call. But I think we have established I am neither normal, nor sane. So who do I turn to? Why my sweet honey child, of COURSE, I turn to you -- my fearless blog friends. You have never lead me astray. When all around me is sinking sand of my blog friends I stand. When I need a shelter when I need a friend, I do to the blog. (Name that tune.)

So I cry forth from the pits of despair. I beseech you dear brethern. Help a poor distressed Country Girl out.

I need you to help me decide where to go on vacation. The entire family's happiness rests upon my shoulders....the burden of decision making is my cross to bear. And it is more than my dainty shoulders can handle. They were made for more of a burden of a pink shimmer scarf. God knew what he was doing and all.

So I come to you -- to lead, guide, and direct me in the way I should go. To be a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. However, I have a few nonnegotiables we must consider. Please do not judge me -- just love and embrace me.

1. I must go to a beach. No "and, if, or, but , or maybe" about it. My soul longs for the beach and I cannot deny my heart its one true love any longer. I must go to a beach.
2. I have to stay at a Marriott Resort. And I am a total Hotel Snob. I know. I know. But I'm just tellin you like it is -- the hotel will make or break it for me.
3. I have to be able to drive from the Deep South within 10 hours.
4. It has to be warm -- (please see #5)
5. It has to be nowhere near anyone I might ever know or see again because I plan on spending every day in my bikini and sippin on a frozen fruity concoction with an umbrella. As a matter of fact I might even sleep on the beach...and by sleep, I mean catnaps....or possible massages. (In actuality, the Spawn will be find as long as they have life jackets on right? Hello?)

So anyhoo -- to recap: I need sand and high thread count sheets and sun and strangers who do not mind a middle aged lady wearing a bikini and love and acceptance for all.....do you have a place?

Looking for love in all the wrong places,

Country Girl

What Happens When I Am In Boston AKA Never Leave College Kids Alone In Your House AKA I Have Good Home Owners Insurance

Slaves -- I Mean College Students

Three days ago my home was overtaken by four college punks.

Four college punks that I watched grow and mature from gawky preteens to beautiful young adults. Four college punks that have slept at my house NUMEROUS times, accompanied me on mission trips, listened to my advise, cleaned out my garage, and taught me more than they will ever know. I have missed them -- desperately.

This week, we have experienced naps til noon, midnight runs to Waffle House, and incessant cell phone beeps throughout the nights. The incoming texts make my house sound like an ICU unit.

And you know what? I LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT! Cause I love them. Even their dirty stinky college laundry. Uhm, you all are doing my laundry...right? There are six baskets upstairs. Possibly seven -- I am assuming you will have it fin dished and folded when I get home -- Lord willlin and the creek don't rise. Right? Hello? Hello? Are you all awake yet?

Sometimes I Just Need To Be A Kid

Please don't judge me. I am stressed.