Dreams of a Country Girl

2012-01-02T19:34:00.000-05:00

Fourth Annual Cranberry Eating Contest

We Crown a New Champion

I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love the holidays....and it just isn't quite complete until Nana and Grandpa arrive....

Or until we have completed our Annual Cranberry Eating Contest!!!!

And this year we had some early weaklings. I am talking pitiful.....

And believe me -- we showed no mercy in making fun of the lesser than culinary tolerant.

IJ was out the first round -- first cranberry -- pitiful.

But MT knew exactly what he was doing -- smiling the entire time he ate the ever so tart cranberry.

ET? All smiles too....

Nana? She can't handle the TART..... Out. Buh Bye.

G-pa? Ain't nothing gonna hole him back -- ain't nothing gonna break his stride....

BT -- this was his first year to survive past the first round. And he had been practicing....building up a tolerance all through November. And this conditioning was paying off.

But it was no match for momma bear. Uh huh. Oh yeah! We all know how amazingly competitive I am -- and this time, my loves, all the spawn were going down....DOWN DOWN DOWN.

You see it is all in the choosing of the cranberry -- slightly still pink, firm, and ....

POP -- I can handle it....

ALL SMILES!

MT -- even without one front tooth -- was still smiling.

ET was not going to let a BOY beat her.

And G-pa was still choosing wisely....

Young grasshoppa

BT could not stop bouncing off the walls -- he was the master -- not only SMILES all through the eating but giggles too.

Good Lord this child has a fighting chance.

But need I remind you of the master skills I posses? Look at the perfectly chosen cranberry, We call him the cranchild.

Mmmmm -- I am SO enjoying this...

Like a fine wine -- there is nothing else I would rather do that eat cranberries all the days of my life. And dwell in the house of the Berry forever....

Oh Lord... I have hit a tart center... Help me baby Jesus.. Save me Tom Cruise. Rescue me Oprah Winfrey.

Call the law. Call my Pa. Call my Ma way down in Arkansas.

Good Lord deliver us in our time of need. Cover me in glue and shake me in a bag of glitter. I am over and out.

Done. Stick a fork in me. I am an embarrassment to all Cranberry prodigies across the land. Father forgive me. For I know not what I do.

So we are down to MT...

ET....

And G-pa.

And BT....

All still going strong....

Or not....Oh ET -- you are OUT. Down for the count BUH BYE!

While MT is still holding strong...

He now must rely on water to get through. Bless his ever lovin heart.

This time G-pa relied on Nana to help him pick his berry.

Oh G-pa -- you did not choose wisely...

You are O-U-T ...Outta here.

So it is down to MT and BT....

MT just does't think he can hold out any longer....

Sorry Buddy -- you are OUT

All BT has to do is hold out for one more berry....

AND HE DOES IT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!

May I introduce you to our First Time 2011 Cranberry Eating Champion...

BABY TWERP

2012-01-01T14:44:00.002-05:00

Christmas "Days of Our Lives" Style:

Susan Lucci Would Be So Proud

Well Lord have mercy on my sweet dear soul. Another Christmas has passed and for some reason I feel like the beginning of Days of Our Lives....don't even act like you didn't watch your daytime stories. Cause we all know you cannot deny the tempting of the daytime drama. Anyhoo....The opening to that soap opera seems to feel like my life motto this year...

"As sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."

Time seems to be slipping by and another season of the most wonderful time of the year has passed, yet again.

And soon my children will be in college, and then moved out, and then married, and they will want to go to their spouse's parents' houses. GASP!!!! (I secretly pray they marry orphans.) And I will cry. And tempt them with their favorite foods. And gifts. And then they will bring over something store bought from the meal..and I will act like it is the best thing EV ER -- and we will reminisce about the Cranberry Eating Contest. And then there will be BABIES. Oh how exciting?!?!?

And .. and I think I might be getting carried away. Anyhoo.....

This year.

This year, I savored. Like you do a good Dr. Pepper.

It was as close to perfect as you can get. The jammies. The sleepy eyes. The glees and giggles.

The belief....the giving...

The pure JOY....

The LOVE and THANKFULNESS....

I am telling you....it made this momma's heart soar.

But this year....when it was all over, it appeared Santa had forgotten the MAIN gift that each child wanted.

Until they looked a little closer on the tree.

And saw Santa had written them letters because he could not fit everything under the tree....

And low and behold when they went outside......

The glory of the Lord had shown down upon them and hark -- the herald angels sang.....

For unto us in the Southern City a motorcycle is born.... (insert angelic choir of heavenly hosts)

And there shall be peace and harmony in the land forever...Amen.

And MY got his first 6 speed big boy bike!

And let's not forget about ET...

Who had to got "plug on my phone" by the computer when Christmas was all over....

Only to find.....GASP --

I know....it really is more for me...than her....cause I gotta start blogging again and all. I KID. I KID.

But soon we all settled down for a long winter's nap.

With our hearts full of love....

Mostly...

ET -- I am so grateful for a beautiful young lady who even with the challenges of the teen years...still loves the Lord and her family with her whole heart.

MT -- this child makes me smile every day -- and even with a missing front tooth is still the cutest thing since sliced bread.

And BT -- my sweet sweet angel. Who feels every one's hurts and loves you for who ya are.

And my IJ -- my rock...the best dad anyone could ever pray for......

Sigh -- as the sand through the hourglass indeed.

I Need China -- Not like Mandarin...Like Southern

2011-10-23T20:51:00.002-04:00

It is Lord-only-knows what time at night. My children are nestled all snug in their beds, with visions of moon pies dancing in their heads....cause who doesn't love a good moon pie? If you have your hand raised, I am pretending I do not see it. Cause it would shatter me.

Anyhoo, my spawn are asleep...IJ is out of town..so what productive thing do you think I am doing? Anyone? Anyone?

Laundry you say? Uhmmm Nope.

Meal planning? Ahhhh - Nah, not that either.

Drinking Cupcake? I think that is neither here nor there, thank you very much.

Watching Desperate Housewives of ATL? My My My. Well, now that you mention it...

Actually all of those things make WAY better sense than what I am doing. But I have been obsessed all day. Hours upon hours researching, googling, looking through Southern Living magazines (from up to 2 years past - thank GAWD my neighbor keeps them -- she is a good Southern woman and all)...potenialy neglecting my children and feeding them left over sushi....

Yes, I have been spending my day efficiently and effectively......

Looking for a China pattern.

I will stop there.

Let the wave of judgement wash over you...embrace it.....own it....now please let it go. Cause judgement causes crows feet.

AND... judgement is my kryptonite.

So is bean soup -- but again....I digress.

So I am picking out a china and silver pattern.

Why? Why?!? WHY?!?!

I stopped asking that question of me a long time ago. I just accept me for the unexplainable woman I am. But with good shoe sense.

I need a china pattern....and while the Lenox with bold or silver bands is beautiful...and classic...and what all the bride website say you SHOULD get. I am sorry. I just can't be Columbus Circle and Apropos.

I need a flair for the dramatic -- like Ridgeway Queen Anne. Or some pink farmhouse toile. Or maybe 8 different setting cause I think I will like AT LEAST eight. And Lord knows I cannot make up my mind to save my life.

So -- alas -- yet again...I come humbly to your browser. And I ask for your help.

Do you have any good southern china patterns that scream out "EAT FRIED CHICKEN FROM ME COUNTRY GIRL." Or maybe on sassy nights it might say "MY WHAT BIG HAIR YOU HAVE -- I LOVE IT DAW-LING"

I think I could be friends with a china pattern like that.

I would name her Millie or Caroline and we would drink tea together. Indeed.

Anyhoo -- for you more refined readers out there....any suggestions...china patterns that emerge in your dreams as the china pattern for me? That screams -- I love potato salad with mayonnaise and pickled okra? Hypothetically speakin and all.

Thanks in advance for your support of my crazy wild hair up my (you know what) tendencies.

Love,

China Pattern Obsessor

Amen.

Another Year - School 2011

2011-08-24T08:53:00.016-04:00

Another school year has started. And I think mothers across America pause.

I know I did.

I paused because my heart really does overflow. And I think oh life! Why must you be filled with time?!?! It seems just yesterday we were taking ET to kindergarten. And when she put on her backpack she fell over from the weight.

Now she starts 8th grade and is saving for an iPad2 and wearing lip gloss. (And in a cruel twist on fate she is cool colors and I am warm - so we cannot share lip gloss. Oh curse the gods of gloss for their evil plots.)And while I am proud beyond belief - and am relieved our rocky adjustment is over - I have to push back the panic.

My days are numbered.

In four more years she will pack her bags for college. (Or I will pack them because she folds her shirts terribly which allow for deep wrinkles and unacceptable shoe allotments)

College. Did I really just type college?!?!?

I will cry. And be one of those moms that decorates her dorm room in shabby chic and bakes cupcakes for the first day and scrapbooks. Okay - maybe just blogs. I am certain she will be the envy of all her friends. (Buwhahahahaha)

And I will hide post it notes in her clothes that remind her I love her. Remind her of who she is. Remind her that who that is - is perfect. No change needed.

And that no matter what, I am proud. And lover her. And am honored she found me as a mother.

And then I will unscrew a bottle of Cupcake and bedazzle her room. And possible buy a cat. Or a motorcycle. Or a pink shimmer shine convertible that spews glitter from the exhaust. Cause that's what us super cool mom's of college students do. If I can afford it after tuition and fees. Okay, maybe a Jetta. Or a pineapple mojito. Burp.

And this one.
Dear sweet baby Jesus, deliver us in our time of need. This one. I wuvs him. He is me. Incarnate.
And he wears me out.

But makes me smile. And pause. And be better.

The curls. The dimples. The vocabulary. The heart. Oh the heart.

He loves others.
Except the girl who messed his hair up on the bus. So he scratched her.

And let's face it.

He comes from a long line of follicle endowment.

We big hair people have no tolerance for messing with such a sacred vessel -- the hair.

Amen.

On MT's first day of school he wrote in his journal about all the things he loves. He talked about dragons and legos....but most of all he loves Jesus and God...above all else. And you all should too.
Sweet precious angel. With a hair complex.

And my baby -- BT. He started Kindergarten.
And you all know he makes the cut off by 3 days, but I still decided to hold him back and have him do kindergarten again. And when we explained this to him he had only one thing to say --

What you talkin about Willis?But then we explained the important mature reasons behind this decision.

There is no homework... And you get a longer recess.Now glitter and unicorns flow forth in Kindergarten.

So I walk on back to the house...humming Sunrise, Sunset. With a sense of pride and a longing for capturing this moment. The moment in which my babies are all under one roof. And innocence still reigns. And they love their momma. And leave dirty hand prints on the wall. And giggle in their beds at night. And still believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy (mostly). And want to please. And love without judgment. And accept without questions. And give without consideration for cost.

They are the epitome of perfection.

Except all the laundry they produce.

Punks.
But I am so happy they are growing. But so aware of the window.

Now it's just me a Lucy back at the ranch.
She can't handle the showtunes and dance moves I do while getting ready.No wonder the twerps were so excited to get back to school.

ET is a STAR!

2011-04-10T07:59:00.005-04:00

ET -- oh my dear sweet angel Eldest Twerp. I remember the first time I ever saw her in her little purple star outfit bouncing down the path at the zoo. I knew. I just knew she was meant for greatness.

But, as with life, challenges and struggles have happened. And our move from the Wild West to the Deep South was nothing less than catastrophic for her.

There have been many nights of tears, morning of screams, and weekends of drama. But now...now...I think she is finding her niche. DRAMA! It's so unlike her mother who is shy and serious and never has a flair for the dramatic. But to each their own. And finally, finally -- the smile is back. The shine is there. And she is home. Amen.

Dear Sweet Precious Elizabeth, forigve me for I know not what I do. And Other Ramblings About NYC

2011-04-05T09:50:00.002-04:00

Soooo -- I promised some dear sweet angel friends I would do a post on New York. Which is quite ironic -- me doin a post on New York City. Every time I say the word I always hear those rough cowboys on the Pace Picante commercial sayin "NEW YAWK SAYTY?!?" Cause I can relate to rough cowboys more than I can city slickers. Plus I think they have better forearms. And I am a sucker for forearms. Just tellin it like it is.

But really, I feel so inept to speak on the city.

One, I only go there on business -- never as a tourist.

Two, I have only been going for two years and I get lost walking from the taxi to my hotel -- which drops me off at the door.

Three, I am the only person there who says "Lord willin and the creek don't rise"

Four, they only have cork wine and I only know how to drink Cupcake -- which has a screw top. And is made with grapes handpicked by angels and sprinkled with love glitter. I know. I went to the vineyard.

Anyhoo -- I do know nothing about vacaing in NYC. Nor birthing babies, Miss Scarlett.

So in my embarrassment I did not post for her like I promised. And now I wondering if I hadn't been Country Girl and you hadn't been The Blog Around the Corner, and you and I had just, well... met... I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn't have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, "Hey, how about... oh, how about some Cupcake or, you know, shoes or Dr Pepper Lip gloss or a pencil skirts... for as long as we both shall live?" And you and I would have never been at war. And the only thing we'd fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night.

But since I promised I would post, and I forgot, I will now try to redeem my friendship with you.

And I will tell you what I know.

Which is nuttin.

First, I enjoy the subway. I really do. People have such unique styles. Once on the subway a man offered to kiss me. I turned him down cause he has poor oral hygiene, but I still appreciated the fact that he was trying to spread love. Although I think he mighta spread more than love to me. So my point is -- ride the subway. You might be scared, but you will love every minute of it.

Second, if you can stay anywhere -- stay at The Plaza. I have never stayed there. But Eloise has. And she loves it. And supposedly her ghost is there and I bet she is friendly and serves tea and cookies with sprinkles. And it is right on the end of 5th Avenue -- WHERE YOU MUST SPEND AN ENTIRE DAY! I have done that. And then I bought a shirt and tights at Banana Republic. I'm so lame like that.

But at Louis Vuitton I tired on everything and they brought me champagne. Good thing you don't drive in NYC -- just sayin.

And the first time I ever went to Bergdorf Goodman's. Oh my Lord have Mercy on my sweet precious soul. I. tried. on . everything. And I called everyone Daaaarling. And went from floor to floor acting like I was rich and famous. But then I tripped on my own two feet and it blew my cover. It happens all the time. It is the burden I must bear - clumsiness. IJ calls it insanity, but let's face it -- he has a limited vocabulary. I call it my signature flair.

You MUST MUST MUST go to Serendipity's and order a frozen hot chocolate. MUST! But don't be like Katy Homes and buy children gummy penises (is that the plural? or peni?) for children. Cause I went there and none of that nonsense was going on. Just heavenly sinful joys of frozen hot chocolate. And our waiter was adorable and single. So if you go -- ask for him -- the adorable single guy who waited on CG -- I bet he will remember me. Cause my thighs sang forth in glory when I drank my hot chocolate and I am pretty sure he had never seen such a thing before, being from the city and all.

Oh and go to the rooftop bar at the Peninsula Hotel!!!!! Classy. Wear something strapless. With four inch heels. You will fit right in.

Then YOU MUST go to Brooklyn and go to Coco Roco which is a Peruvian. And get a sampler ceviche platter and this drink that I had which had pineapple in it and made me hiccup. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus it was ah maze ing. Burp. Go there. It's an order. If you wanna.

Another great place overlooking Central Park is Robert. But you HAVE to make a reservation. And eat there for lunch. And say you want a table overlooking Central Park. And wear heels. If you are a girl. And tease your hair. Cause NY doesn't know it yet -- but big hair is coming back. I think God has sent me as his personal messenger to let them know.

Also go to the Spice Market in the Meat Packing District. And get a ginger margarita. trust me. I know my food. And my Ginger. Even better than Gilligan's Island!

Of course go to Times Square -- there is a Marriott there I stay at often. And go to see a Broadway show (I saw Memphis) and go to China Town and get lured down a back ally with cheap Louis bags....(If you are the po po reading this I AM TOTALLY KIDDING! ha ha ho ho hee hee giggle giggle snort)

But my favorite thing about NY is just walking down the streets. And I try to talk to everyone I meet. They all have such wonderful stories. WONDERFUL! And it makes me realize I love them. And what they have gone through. And what they are experiencing...and what they give.

That is my favorite part.

And the shoes.

And wine with corks.

Amen.

Conversations with IJ

2011-03-24T19:07:00.003-04:00

ME: What exciting and adventurous happened to you today?

IJ: Nothing much

ME: So what do you wanna do tonight that will be exciting and adventurous?

IJ: Whatever

ME: You want to paint my toenails?

IJ: Not so much

ME: You want to bake a 3 layer cake and bedazzle it with pink icing and gems? Then we can sing happy birthday to each other and blow out the candles and I can wrap up some random item in the house and give it to you as a present -- and while I am doing that you can run out to Ann Taylor and buy me a real gift -- with shoes. How about that?

IJ: We can

ME: What is up with the fact that I can talk for hours on end and say the longest sentences known to mankind and all you give me in return are 2-word sentences?

IJ: That's all I have to say.

ME: I know but don't you want to make things interesting? To feel the excitement of the day? To glitter things up a little?

IJ: No

ME: Well I love to embezzle a story

IJ: Embellish

ME: Huh? What? Come again?

IJ: Embellish. You love to embellish a story.

ME: That's what I said.

IJ: No, you said embezzle.

ME: Whatever. There is no difference. Embellish. Embezzle, Poe tate o's Poe tat o's. Details Schmetails.

IJ: That's why I use fewer words.

ME: Why?

IJ: I sound smarter.

ME: U hurt. Embezzler.

Lucy: I Think She Rescued Me

2011-02-01T12:15:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time when my precious angel children were 3 and 4 we did a silly silly thing.

A thing that was nonchalant and carefree. A thing that we KNEW would never come to pass. Like high school graduation and stuff like that. It just would never happen to MY kids cause they were never gonna grow up. Amen.

So on a carefree simple day something silly happened -- we kinda maybe possibly mighta promised the spawn a puppy. Maybe.

We mighta said that when BT is 5 and MT is 7 -- we will get a dog. It seemed sensible and at the time -- far, far away. Like a galaxy I once knew. Just call me Princess Leia. IJ does it all the time.

It seemed that 5 and 7 would be a day in the distant future in which children were responsible and Dr Pepper lipgloss was available to the masses. It seemed this distant date would be one of no worries.

Where all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops.

And all the snowflakes were wine glasses and Cupcake.

Oh yes -- oh what a day that would be. A day of peace and love for all.

But suddenly - that day was upon us. MT will turn 7 in February and BT is already 5. And it is like super creepy weird how when you say something ONE time and make a little statement about "Oh sure we will get you a dog when you turn 7" it becomes seared in their tiny little minds and they bring it back up to you in some "remember -- you promised" kinda way. Like I am suppose to do everything I promise. Sheesh.

Twerps.

Anyhoo. The Year of the Dog was upon us. Amen.

And I tried to convince my spawn that it was the Year of the Beta Fish

Or the Year of the Pet Rock

But they were not buying it.

It's like they are Chinese or something.

And I am Tiger Mom.

Sorry - I digress.

Anyhoo -- We were at a friends house one night and someone started talking about this little beagle they found abandoned and brought her home -- they were going to take her to the pound. And I was all like --

OHHHH By George I got it!

It is like when the light from heaven shines down upon you and you are impregnated with the best idea since sliced bread.....This was such a day.

I said....

Let us watch her for the weekend and my three children would see the responsibility and effort and early morning walks this creature would require. And Lord knows at the end of the weekend they would want to send her back. And we would then get a Pet Rock. IT WAS BRILLIANT!

Mu wa ha ha ha ha ha ha

{{Insert my devious plan and evil laughter while rubbing my hands together}}So they brought the silly little canine over -- and I propped my feet up with a glass of vino and some bon bons and shouted short orders to the dog whisperers...

Lucy needs to go outside

Lucy needs fed

Lucy needs a bath.

Lucy is in the sky with diamonds

I kid. I kid. I really didn't say that.

That would be silly.

I sang it.

While dancing.

But there is no need for details.Anyhoo -- the strangest thing happened -- my plan began to backfire.....they were doing it! And More. Without COMPLAINING! Who are these strange children?

And Lucy was no normal dog. She did not chew. She did not bark. She did not potty in the house. And -- she loved PINK!

And glitter... Obviously she was trying to steal my heart. I was NOT letting it happen.

Until -- UNTIL -- I saw this.....She loved my boys. Fiercely -- and they loved her. And how could I not rescue her from a life of cages and loneliness -- how could I not love her?

Cause at the end of the day -- she knew what life was all about -- OTHERS. And she rescued my heart. And now I love her.
Puppy Twerp!

Day Five: Southern Style

2011-01-16T18:15:00.000-05:00

Day Five of the Great Southern Snow Storm. And us poor sweet dear Southern Angels had no clue what to do. We were damsels in distress. Swooning and fainting all over the place. Why I do declare - all the grits and sweet tea were sold out. I'm feeling weak just relivin it. It was indeed a state of national emergency. A state of panic. I called my ma. I called my pa. I even called the law....way down in Arkansas. I was desperate. Please understand we were doing all we could do to stay sane and not lose out ever loving minds. One Day One of the Great Southern Snow Storm there were giggles and sledding. We were handling it all in grace and style. Taking photos to scrapbook and send to our Aunt Lucille's on our monogrammed stationary. On Day Two there was hot chocolate and movies. Gone with the Wind. Steel Magnolias. Driving Miss Daisy. and Oklahoma! We start them young and all. On Day Three there were naps and early bedtime. It's good for the youngnis. Keeps their immune system up. They need their dear sweet angel rest. Amen. However on Day Four - oh dear Day Four... there was Benadryl and Xanax. And I don't think any good Yankee could possibly judge us. Amen. But on Day Five... Oh on Day Five. On Day Five the heavens opened forth and dear sweet Baby Jesus decided he would have to part some sanity to us or I was gonna have to tear down the drapes and make a dress. And Lord knew that would not end well. Soooo... Momma decided to have a little fun.

I had had about enough of the kids being pulled all around like they were little prices. I demanded to be treated like to southern princess I was.

Amen.

And some may say this is a little uncalled for.
To those I have one simple thing to say....Mush! Mush! Why are we going so slow? It must be all this extra weight from MT. Cause Lord knows my waist is the size of a brooms stick.

Even after Five Days of Pancakes and Yoga Pants. (Hypothetically speaking, those yoga pants can be quite deceiving. Burp.) Snap... Crackle.... POP. Uhm, exsqueeze me... did the cord just break?Cheap silly cord.

Onward!
Cause I swear they just don't make things like they use to.

Except yoga pants. Amen.Anyhoo -- put those spawn of mine into the sled and let's go home IJ!

Momma feels her Cupcake calling.And I think the Twerps feel a nap coming on. And if they don't...It's nothing a little Benadryl and Whiskey can't solve. I kid! I kid! (If you were judgin and all).

Just Eat It.

2011-01-11T14:21:00.002-05:00

This strange white manna began falling from the sky in the deep south on Sunday and behold us Southerners were joyous and perplexed as school was canceled and play was on!

We all have different reactions to this rare seasonal occurrence.....

Some are joyous and elated...This experience brings awe and wonderment.

Some fall down in disbelief and recreate angelic expressions in thankfulness to the heavens.Others have curiosity -- WHAT IS THIS? And we ALL know if you don't know what it is there is only way to solve the mystery -- EAT IT! and 20 minutes later if you are still unsure -- EAT IT AGAIN..

To each their own. Amen.

Anyhoo - my little dare-devil wasted no time at all... he was slipping and sliding and racing all the way home.

And soon he lured his little brother to do the same...Trust me...it will be fun.You will be safe.Nothing can go wrong.Probably. Ooops.Well, that did not go as planned, let's try it again. Let me go down with you this time. I will keep you safe and sound...And spray some snow in your face so at least you can eat some more while you are down there.Heaven help us.

But all in all we are having all too much fun. From this manna from heaven.

Burp.

Mya Husband Isa Italian Pizza Maker

2011-01-09T21:00:00.010-05:00

One thing my spawn love to do with us is cook. Mainly due to the fact this secures the question of whether they will eat or not. Because if judgement is being withheld and all - Hypothetically, I might have kinda maybe been known to possibly forget to make supper before. Maybe. If you ain't judgin and all. Apparently, what I have learned is man cannot live on Dr Pepper Lipgloss alone. I know, I know - surprised the heck outta me too.

Anyhoo, BT LOVES to cook with us. And since IJ spent his burly strapping high school years working in a pizzeria - he thought he would pass on his skillz and legacy tonight. I just love it when IJ passes on his skills. Especailly when the side affect is supper.

Since I have already passed on my bad sillz to BT, I just sat back and took pics...what skills you may I ask? Uhm DUH, nunchuck, bow hunting, and computer hacking skills, of course. Kids only want moms with great skills.

Anyhoo - IJ passed on his pizza skills today. And he turns into an Italina New York man. It's a alla in the flicka of the wrista, Bee-a Tee-a... Famalia -- come gather round so you can see your papa at work - be proud. be in awe....be amazed...Be amazed... this spwan, this is how it is done. Aren't we a bonding??Uhm, exsqeeze me...MT? MT!?! Are you playing your Nintendo DS?!?!?Fine then. We will stick with the child who shows a glimmer of hope for the pizza industry. It's a like this BT....

Now it's your turn -- up and twist. Up and twist. Here we go... Up---

And......

Ahhhh ahhhhh AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!CATCH!YEAH!!!!

Now for the pepperonis.

Uhm, BT quit eating the pizza toppings. BT! Quit. Eating. The. Pepperonis. BT!!! Lord have mercy child. What is that in your hands that you are eating?!?!?!?

But when it is all said and done....he is Oh So Proud. And his daddy thinks he might be the next Papa BT.Burp.

Here a Wattle. There a Wattle. Every Where a Wattle Wattle.

2011-01-05T15:03:00.004-05:00

Yes, these are pics of my children with a chicken. I know I began a series on my new house - but I think we were all painfully aware I would not finish what I started. I like to shake it up a bit - but not too much - cause things shake and jiggle on me that didn't 20 years ago -- so before I go shaking things up now-a-days, I gotta put on my Spanx first. It's the law. In 13 states.

Anyhoo - when you open this post you may be all like Uhm -- exsqueegie me CG. I baking powder? uhm -- Really? A chicken? Puh leez tell me, "Why is BT holding a chicken?"

Or better yet, "For all that is good and holy in this world, WHERE in tarnation did that chicken come from?!?" I know. I know. You just never quite know about me.

Or possibly you are saying. "My, my, my Miss Chicken, what big Wattles you have!" IJ says that to me sometimes too. I KID! I KID! Kinda.

Well, if you say that - it is kind of silly cause we all know she would say, "The better to wattle you with my dear!" It's what I say to IJ too. I think we all know what that means, he just rolls his eyes and walks away. It's the only way he can resist this Spanx wearing jiggler. (Contain the jealousy.)

But that's okay - I am not judging you for your silly Wattle questions. It happens to us all honey child. We all ask silly questions every once-in-a-while.

Like when IJ says, "Honey, don't you think that is ENOUGH lip gloss?"

Silly silly boy.

Anyhoo, these chicken pics lead to many, many questions. Like why a chicken? And are your boys wearing the SAME SHIRT? And where is ET? And will Josh ever marry Reva Shane for good and move back to Tulsa?

Sorry. All these questions. None of which I have answers for. Except the wattle one, but let's not digress yet again.

The only thing I can say is our chicken obsession runs in the family. It is a curse from many generations past.

This is a pic of my Great Great Uncle. I. kid. you. not. For shizzle.

I think that says it all. It's all in the Wattles. Amen.

The New House Version 1.0: I know the fact that this is a series excites you all. Right? Hello? Anyone? Mom?

2011-01-03T08:57:00.013-05:00

Good morning my lovelies. I thought I would give you a little mini tour of a portion of my house. I only cleaned this part so you will only see a couple rooms. I clean in stages so maybe I can shove some stuff under some beds for later this week.

Anyhoo, we have the main level mainly done. Mostly. Kinda. And I just big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love our contractors. And while they do not understand my language ( they understand English, just not the version I speak) I think they have come to love and appreciate me. IJ would roll his eyes at that statement and disagree...but he should get his own blog cause this is my rainbow and kitten world. Amen. So as you know, we moved just a few houses down in our neighborhood. So I can keep my same friends that love me for the Cupcake drinker that I am.

Now for a few before and after picks. I took these the day after the former owner (who is as sweet as molasses) moved out....

Before #1 ...

After #1 (and yes, I know I need shades on my chandelier. I ordered some burlap ones from Pottery Barn but they are on backorder until Jan 31. Obviously, they don't read my blog or they would have rushed them Surprising)...Before #2 ...After #2 ..

(you can kind of see the beams we added into the living room -- I big pink fuzzy hear with glitter LOVE these. Amen.)Before #3 ...After #3 ...Here is a little better pic of the beams. Let's call them Big Pink Fuzzy Heart with Glitter Beams. I'm going to make the contractors say it....and record it. I'm certain they will do it cause they love me. Right? Right? Hello? Anyone....I'm not a big fan of these bar stools and I am going to be super generous and give them to IJ once his basement is complete. He just doesn't know it yet. But I will put a bow on them and mistletoe. Then he will be all like WHY I DO DECLARE CG! I JUST LOVE THEM TO PIECES YOU SWEET ANGEL. Cause he talks like that to me all the time. It's just how he rolls. This is a little bit of a closer up for the desk area....
You can't really see it here, but these are distressed. And the granite is SUPPOSE to look like grained wood. I did what Dana told me to do and went with a lighter granite on darker cabinets. And I squinted my eyes (like she said) and it did not all blend into one color. Right off the breakfast nook is a little deck (that needs to be refinished? Is that what you call it? Restained? Restripped? Reglittered? Yes, I will ask the contractors to reglitter it. I'm certain they will know exactly what to do.)

Anyhoo - it overlooks our backyard...
Which has a creek that runs through the middle of it -- if you can see it. Squint your eyes and make whooshing sounds with your mouth then you can see it. It works every time.See? You can see it now can't ya? IJ also built a fire pit. And he beats his chest and roars when it ignites. And bellows FIIIIRRREEE. Like in Cast Away, but without the beard. And the beach. And the stranded on a deserted island thing. But other than that, exactly the same.

Anyhoo -- this is what happens in the creek ...This leads to the basement. I want to find an old barn door and put it on tracks here that slide. When I tell IJ that he rolls his eyes at me. I have come to understand that means he thinks it is the BEST idea in the whole wide world and thinks I should get started on it right away. No matter the cost.
One of my favorite things about my house is the farm house sink. It reminds me of my great grandma and Auntie. And I love them and miss them. And I pretend I can just like them. And use labels that say Smuckers. But other than that, exactly the same.

Here are a few other quick little views of the downstairs.... Guest Bathroom...

Playroom --

I may or may not have been playing with the castle this morning.... Maybe. Entry ..

IJ says if I bring one more old rusty thing into this house he is going to yank a knot in my tail. I only giggle. Cause I think I might like that. :) (BTW -- that old phone was my great grandma's) Anyhoo -- we wuvs it. And more to come....but now I need you all to come VISIT. We have the room and we want you. So who will come first? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Smile And The Whole World Smiles with You

2010-12-31T04:28:00.009-05:00

I know. I know. We are all expected post of Christmas morning in jammies and sweet smiles and sleepy eyes. But when have I ever been predictable?

I have been gone. And probably to no ones tragic dismay - but nonetheless, I have missed you. Terribly.

I have been in a state of chaos that only I have put myself into - pushing myself too hard a work, trying to solve all my family problems, and looking for the perfect lipgloss shade. All impossible missions.

Anyhoo, I did the unthinkable. the unbelievable. the so un-CG -- I took 2 weeks vaca and stayed HOME! My new home -- that we just remodeled (almost done) -- that took 3 months. (Here is the old -- wait until you see the "new" home tour video.....arg, I gotta make my bed first.)And let me just tell you like it is honey child. I love and embrace all but my contract workers are as slow as molasses. IJ thinks they were in no hurry cause I made them cookies and muffins. But when they left their earplugs in AFTER the heavy machinery was gone and it was only me talking....I got the hint. Just sayin.

Anyhoo -- I have missed you but I have gotten a big healthy dose of PERSPECTIVE in my life. And learned to SLOW down. At least for a month or so - cause that is about how long my lessons last.

But I thought I would share some of my lessons with you. How I am cutting back, letting loose, being easy and breezy, going free.....

1. I still have not sent my Christmas Cards out....but I am going to -- in January. And I will sign each one

~ Happy Holidays. I know they are over. I celebrate all year. Go forth and glitter.

Please don't judge me... CG

2. I learned to turn my frown

Upside down....

3. I learned that even if it is winter - if you have a beautiful day you should strip down to your underwear and go to the creek with a friend. IJ thinks I missed the lesson here. I think he is just jealous cause my underwear is cuter than his. Then he rolls his eyes at me, stokes my hair and says something like, "You're so Pretty"

Deep down he loves me.

Anyhoo - spontaneously spending time with friends. And not caring what we are wearing or if we have showered (Ok, I shared too much, I have that nasty habit) but just laughing and kickin it up.

4. I learned that sometimes, a trip home is just what the doctor ordered.for me and for my spawn....5. I learned that when I'm smiling - and I keep on smiling -- all my spawn smile withe me.

And when I'm laughing - belly laughing - the sun comes shinin through.

But when I'm crying - I bring the rain - so I gotta cheer up and keep on smiling

Cause my whole world will smile and laugh and big pink fuzzy heart with glitter LOVE too.

Anyhoo - I have missed you all -- AND I AM BACK. (but not it black....in shimmery shiny pink sequins with taffeta puffy sleeves. Cause I truly believe the 80's are coming back. they were Jesus' favorite era and all. I know cause he told me. Amen)

I Wish I Had A River

2010-12-15T16:52:00.000-05:00

Do you know that Joni Mitchell song? “I wish I had a river I could skate away on”. Such a sad song! And not really about Christmas at all, but I was thinking about it tonight as I was decorating my Christmas tree, unwrapping funky ornaments made of Popsicle sticks, and missing my mother so much I almost couldn’t breathe. I always miss my mother at Christmas, but…somehow it is worse this year since I need some advice from her. I need her to make me some cocoa and tell me that everything that’s going badly in my life will sort itself out.

Happy Thanksgiving iPhone

2010-11-23T07:44:00.003-05:00

BT is the Cook in his Thanksgiving Play this year. Not be outdone by his older brother who played the stellar part of Lead Indian last year. And not to mention dear sweet ET who was a star in her musical last week.

It's amazing the depth of talent we have in the family. Who would have ever thought 3 children who have my blood coursing through their veins would ever have a flair for the dramatic -- so surprising and shocking I gasp as well.

Anyhoo -- BT is the cook in his school play today -- and in his words, "It doesn't end well fow the Twukey"

I just wuvs him.

Below you will be able to see for your viewing pleasure {ah hem, ah hem} his backstage (aka master bathroom) practice.

In which is vocal cords still needed a little warming up....he is his toughest critic.

The end salutation from BT also shows how much the poor sweet baby has an iphone stuck in his face. Bless his heart.

Wove Aways Wins

2010-11-07T03:47:00.004-05:00

As a mother, most of my days are spent doubting that one single lesson I have tried to instill in my spawn has taken hold. The mere fact that my soon to be 13-year-old daughter has to not only be reminded DAILY to shower, but that I also must defend this medieval torture and explain the reasons every.single.time! confirms that the lessons are lost.

I truly believe that when they lay their sweet angel heads on their pillows at night, ever manner and sweetness I have taught them leaks out their ears. You just thought that was drool. It's not. It's "please and thank you and showers and hand washing." Amen

Anyhoo, but sometimes - just sometimes- God himself shines down in his glory and love and gives me hope that maybe, possible, there could be a slight chance that I am not failing at this freakishly hard thang called "motherhood"

My two boy spawn (Middle Twerp and Baby Twerp) were playing Connect Four in the playroom after we had spent the morning picking out granite and cabinet hardware. This only lead to me giving THE LOOK forty eleven times and inevitably making them call me Aunt Country Girl so it could not longer be assumed they were genetically tied to my womb.

Anyhoo -- it was not the best of days.

And I locked them in the playroom and said only come get me if there is blood. And it needs to be a lot of blood. A whole lot.

And soon I heard, "Nunt uh. Is not. You're cheating. I'm telling!!!"

And then... silence.

Silence.

Which all mother's know is worse than blood.

Much worse.

So I peeked in. Expecting to see someone decapitated. Or worse, covered in Sharpie marker while eating glue.

But what I saw was a sweet game of Connect Four starting.

And two angelic faces looking back at me.

ME: "What's going on?"

BT: "Nuffin. We's just pwaying." (says BT in his daring speech impediment voice)

ME: "Oh. Silly me. I thought you were fighting over who won."

BT: "Nope."

ME; "Oh who one the last game?"

BT: "No one. Just wove"

ME: "LOVE won?!?!?"

BT: "Yea, Wove always wins."

And at that moment, I melted. If he learns nothing else in this life, he knows that wove always wins.

Although I dearly pray he also learns his "L sound".

Amen.

I Am Moving to Boston

2010-11-06T04:44:00.003-04:00

I've always been a tad bit "unique" let's say. I've come to grips with it in my life. Kinda.

Oh there are so many other words to describe it....but I believe I will stick with unique. Cause it's kinder. And I can spell it. And I feel the "q" is under-used in our language and I don't want to give her a complex and all.

But alas, through all my "unique" situations throughout my life, nothing quite confirmed my odd tendencies quite like my dinner party obsession last week.

And may I interrupt this regularly scheduled story to clarify a detail -- I don't think you can really classify it as a dinner "party" due to the fact there was no Casey and the Sunshine Band playing nor was there glitter. Therefore, technically - it was just a gathering. I dinner gathering.

Now I feel better. Honesty is always the best policy.

Anyhoo -- I am fighting (in a lover kinda way) a horrible cold. So toward the end of the dinner gathering I called my sweet little server over (Vladimir was his name, which coincidentally I called him Glad-a-mirror all night until my friend corrected me. In the Deep South, that is just how we speak Russian.)

Sorry, I digress.

So I call Vladimir over and said, "Vladimir?" (okay, actually I said Glad-a-mirror) "Can I please have a hot tea?"

"Most certainly, Ma'am"

"But I don't want iced tea, I want HOT tea."

"Why of course, Ma'am"

And he acted all like NO DUH -- in which instantly clued me in to the fact he was not from the Deep South. Cause if he was, he would have known there is only one kind of tea. And it has forty eleven pounds of sugar. And a lemon wedge. And is most likely to be serve in a Mason Jar. And he would have brought me cheese grits to boot.

The fact that he used a "V" for all his "S" and was from Russia secondarily clued me in he was not from the Deep South. I channel my inner Nancy Drew often. Contain the jealousy.

Anyhoo.... Glad-a-mirror soon brought me out a nice wooden box. And at first I thought he might propose. Cause that is the size of box I think I deserve. But much to my disappointment, when he opened it, a sea of tea bags was before me.

And I instantly knew I was in trouble.

Cause I can't make a decision to save my life.

Bless my heart.

So I grabbed the purple bag named Passion Tea. Cause it was purple and had the word passion in it and let's face it - it seduced me.

Then I put it back.

Cause there were about 6 of them.

But there was only one green bag, named Zen.

And I felt sorry for Zen. All by himself. No one wanting him. So I grabbed him.

But wait! Maybe there is only one Zen left because it is the most popular. Everyone likes Zen.

Yes - that must be it. Zen was the super cool tea that had a mom that bought him a convertible.

Zen did not need me.

I put him back.

At this time Glad-a-mirror was perplexed. I explained to him this is how us Southern Women pick our tea. We have to feel the package.

He accepted my lie.

So OBVIOUSLY I must pick Passion. My original choice. Which had the MOST bags in the box.

I had to pick it cause -- well -- no one wanted her.

She was an outcast. Like the last kid to get picked in gym. I HAD TO LOVE AND ACCEPT HER.

So I look her back. And Glad-a-mirror closed the box.

Then I thought of all 5 other Passion bags that may never get chosen.

So I stopped Glad-a-mirror, reopened the box.

And took the remaining 5 Passion tea bags. Cause I could not stand for Passion to be rejected yet again and spend another dark night in the box of shame. Being tortured by the heckling from Zen.

And Glad-a-mirror looked at me and sweetly said "All Vix?"

And I said "Are you judging me?"

And that settled that.

After the dinner gathering, I just could not leave well enough alone.

With five Passion tea bags in my pocket, I went back to my hotel room and googled to see the most popular flavor.

And to my startling surprise.

It was Passion.

{GASP}

I had been deceived.

Obviously Glad-a-mirror was KGB and this was all part of his communist plan!

So I ordered a case of Zen from amazon.com

And when it will arrive (or the Discover bill comes), Indiana Jones will see it. And I will have to explain.

That I mail ordered another man cause my Russian server made me.

I am certain this will lead to a divorce.

Drats you Glad-a-mirror! I'm moving to Boston.

Amen.

I Beseech You Dear Brothern

2010-10-17T08:35:00.007-04:00

Soooo -- we bought a new house. And as you may recall the drawings from my AMAZING Portuguese architect But if not, let me recap, cause I think we have all drank Cupcake since then...and we all know the affects of my beloved Cupcake.

Anyhoo, IJ's orders for the Deep South were only for 2 years. And those 2 years were up. And in those two years, we had found a neighborhood we loved (the ladies have wine exchanges here, enough said) and the spawn had a school they loved, and my job? I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love my job. And the most important thing of all -- there is an Ann Taylor and Cole Haan less than 10 minutes away. I am a good Christan woman and I have my priorities right. Amen.

So when we found out that we would more than likely probably be moving to a new house in a new town in a new city in a new state in a new time zone -- I did what any mature, executive woman would do-- except I am from the south-- I locked myself in my room with 8421 boxes of Krispie Kreme and several bottles of Cupcake and refused to believe reality.

And I cried.

And IJ fixed it all -- as he always does.

He sacrificed his career and made a career change for the mental heath of his dear sweet precious wife. He's a keeper.

And as luck would have it -- God's grace and mercy shown down upon us and the house at the end of the cul-de-sac went on the market. And we got a great deal with everything we want.

The twerps will not have to change schools. I still get to keep my neighborhood friends and my job....and ....

We have to remodel.

So, I need your help.

Cause we are all painfully aware that I cannot make a decision to save my dear sweet precious soul.

Let's start easy --

The kitchen.

Here she is.....As you can see the kitchen/living/and breakfast nook are all one shot. I need your help with the cabinets, counter tops, sink, appliances and back splash. When IJ asked me I said YES. He then just stroked my hair and put me to bed. It is a usual occurrence at our home.

So first things first -- the cabinets?

I either want to do Bisque Glazed Cabinets -- (note these are not my cabinets, but just a sample pic I pulled off)
Or a distressed wood rustic looky thing... (note the below pics are samples from our cabinet guy, Juan. I love him with all my soul.)

I have gotten stainless steel appliances and a farm house apron sink....
I had decided to go with the white glaze but IJ felt like there was no going back with that. And let me be real honest -- IJ is a real trailblazer -- he loves bright bold colors, like mocha. I'm telling you -- something like RED would just make him go nine kinds of crazy and we would have to sedate him with whiskey and women -- hmmm, maybe I should paint it red and buy him a spittoon and get a flapper dress -- just sayin...

Sorry -- I digress.

So -- I need your help..

White bisque glazed -- or....

Distressed Glazed Oak

Until you decide I will be dancing the flapper dance in my backyard....

with some Cupcake.....

Amen...

Go forth and choose......

Save me from myself.

Love,

Flapper Dancin Country Girl in Need Of Cabinets

Three Songs For Your Day

2010-09-04T14:49:00.002-04:00

There is just something about music that ignites my soul. It sets my mood, speaks my language, puts a little boogie in my step, and showers glitter upon my life. I have made no secret about it here on this silly little ol' blog -- that I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love music. With Dr. Pepper on top.

Music speaks for me when I just can't find the words.

I came across this song last week that makes my cheeks do the cadence -- left, left, left right, left. It makes me get barefoot, alone, and twirl. And by alone, I mean for every one's sake I hope they leave before I get my groove on. Cause I feel carefree and -- well-- happy. And like I could qualify for Dancing with the Stars. I'm just keepin it real.

I must warn you about this song, for your own good. You will have no control. You WILL dance. You WILL be happier. You WILL let loose and act like a fool. And if lettin loose and acting like a fool is wrong, I don't know if I wanna be right.

So go here to be showered with youthfulness and feel carefree. Do it. Pronto. Right now. If you wanna.

There are also times when I am as frustrated as the day is long. When people push me to my limit and I put on my OH YES I AM SERIOUS face. In moments like these...I sing out this song. And I say go on -- hit me with your best shot. I just dare ya. Nanner nanner.

And once I hammer that one out and get it all out -- I feel at one with the universe. I have been cleansed. Ahh uhmmmmmm. But soon I realize you cannot play that song without considering another. You just can't.

The, I turn on this song. To remember that there is no one I wouldn't love if only I knew their stow. I forget that at the core of all ugliness and hatefulness is simply a person -- that has been places I will never understand and have endured things I will never know -- and is valuable. Sometimes -- too often -- I forget that. So I turn that on and listen to it over and over and over -- and sometimes over again. Until, I remember -- I remember to quit judging myself by my intentions and others by their actions. To quit believing the worst and start expecting the best. To remember that only I hold the cards to turn things around. And there is only one person in this world I can control. I remember that if I catch any of us on our worst day, it wouldn't be pretty. Especially if I don't have my hair curled or my Dr Pepper lip gloss applied. Again, I'm just tellin it like it is.

This song reminds me that at the end of the day, life is about others. No about my ambitions, my feelings, my desires, but about making sure if I am succeeding and learning and doing good, that I am bringing others along with me. To make sure that the path in life is WIDE not narrow. It is wide because so many people walked it WITH me...BESIDE me...and I should even carry some with me. I never want it to be narrow and lonely. I never want to elbow and push everyone out of the way...I have an abundance mentality and there is more than enough room for all.

That's what music does for me. These three songs bring joy, release and healing. So go forth and let them make your skirt fly up too.

I love each and every one of you. Go make a difference in the life of others today!

CG

BT's B-Day

2010-09-01T07:56:00.000-04:00

Ah -- the infamous five-year-old birthday party. I think we are painfully aware of THE major topic at a five-year-old birthday party. The focal point. The center piece.

Some may say it is the birthday boy -- in all his glory. That is where all eyes are. The birthday boy is the center of the five-year-old birthday party. The celebration of procreating this precious life and bringing him forth into the world -- that is what it is all about. A time to remember and give thanks that this precious soul is not in our midst. Making our lives better and bringing forth joy into the hearts of many.

To you, my dear friend, I would say "Good guess -- but -- No no no you silly, silly boy."Some may say it's the gifts. To a five-year-old the gifts his friends com baring is exciting and appreciated. The anticipation of hot wheels and nerf guns and Star Wars ships -- well, it is almost more than his little soul can take.

But again, I admire your persistence, but Nope Diddley Ope. It is not the birthday boy nor is it the presents. Ah -- to be so naive still is sweet. Some may say it is the ice cream. The rich creamy cool refreshment. To you -- I would say -- You are getting warmer. But the true focus is on {insert drum roll please}

THE CAKEThis my dear sweet angels is where all attention is turned. THE CAKE is the Godfather of birthdays. the cake is the I Ching. The Cake is the sum of all wisdom. the answer to all questions. THE CAKE.

And the MAIN question all the cake attendee mothers have is the following. It sends shivers down my spine. It raises the hair on my back (not that I have hair on my back, and not that I judge woman who do -- just sayin. I love and embrace all)

And it is stated in the ever so I might be judgin you tone, "Did YOU make that cake?!?!?"

But this year I prepared with one simple answer....
Burp.

I think that said it all. Amen.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BT! AT LAST, MY LOVE HAS COME ALONG.

Hustle is a Wench

2010-08-25T07:50:00.006-04:00

Some days my heart looks at my soul in such disappointment. Today is one of those days. Disappointment.
The start of a new school year brings such excitement and apprehension for my genetic offspring. And hustle. It brings hustle. Cause the bus comes at 7:00 am. And BT opens one eye at 6:57 and moans the moan of exhaustion. Then rolls over and dreams of This Old House episodes. Cause that is his heaven.

This morning- Day 3 -was no different nor could we free ourselves from the entanglement of the hustle. And now I sit at work, less than 30 minutes after departing from my children and my heart sits in judgement. Judgement because I set the tone for the day. I make or break the day. I am the biggest influence in their lives. And today I missed it. I missed the bar. I missed the peace. I missed the parenting skills needed for my kids.
And after all the rush and hustle, we missed the bus. And right there at the bus stop as we watched him pull away, all wailing and gnashing of teeth broke out -- in front of God and everybody.

Some days, I miss it. I miss the mark. Today was one of those days. It's official, Hustle is a wench.

I'm a Floozie, Not a Koozie

2010-08-20T06:44:00.000-04:00

I was born with an allergy to exercise. It's sad, but true. Throughout my life I have dealt with this and it has been quite severe at times -- flair ups occurred quite regularly in middle school gym class. Exercise and strenuous activity cause horrible side affects in me ... like sweat and heavy breathing. I know, it truly is awful. It is a cross I must bear.

But over the years I have found things that help, like sun and ocean and fruity drinks. So I have come to replace this sensitivity I have to exercise with the finer things in like -- like screw cap wine. Please don't judge. Cause if lovin Cupcake is wrong, I think none of us wanna be right.

But IJ pushes me. And while we were on vaca he rented bikes. Bikes. Yes, you heard me --BIKES! And I gently reminded him -- we have a car. And air conditioning. And we no longer have to wear overalls and plow the back forty. Just sayin...

But he rolled his eyes at me and cracked his whip and yelled MUSH MUSH!

My spawn looked at him and said, "Papa, the children in the next village speak of play. Papa, what is play?"

But then after hours and hours of toil and burn, this is how our task master collapses.
And as his indentured servant, I become a human koozie.

I gasp in shame. I want to be his FLOOZIE not his KOOZIE.

Wool Blankets and Boogy Boards For All

2010-08-14T07:34:00.012-04:00

Every vacation leads to frivolous purchases. Something overcomes us all in which we think we will wear a mirror-jeweled wrap or marijuana necklace somewhere outside the confines of the resort. We all know our judgement is clouded by the fruity drinks and sun-soaked skin -- we cannot be held responsible.

I am certain everyone who has been to Mexico has one of those god-forsaken wool sante-fe blankets. And if you were feeling saucy (much like I often feel) - you got two, cause it was buy one get one half off and even south of the border we all KNOW that is a deal. No one is judgin.

But on this particular vaca my brain is a little wilted by the sun's rays and my judgement is in a cloud of Panama Jack -- and those Boogy Boards seemed like as good of an idea as a sea shell wind chime. But regret is a painful enemy. Soon the grand idea that these Boards might allow for a moment's piece and quiet for me to close my eyes and sip a fruity umbrella drink -- were squandered. Cause I heard "Maaaaaa? Come help me!"With that I rolled over, hiccuped and batted my eyelashes at Indiana Jones. It had no affect. So I pretended I was asleep and soon he was out in the ocean...being fatherly....while I lost my Mom of the Year award -- again.
And, as with everything IJ's athletic hands touch, it was a success.

And I heard giggles and squeals and fun for all.
Yeahhhh Daddy..... Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.....zzzzzzz.

All was good and glorious and the angels sang forth in praises....until....until....until....There was a near drowning. Then, it all went to hell in a hand basket. Here his cute yet persistent little self came. And he wanted momma. And he was using those eyes and those curls and he was not taking no for an answer.
Fine. Fine. Fine. But I am not getting my hair wet. Amen.

So off my awkward, can't-chew-gum-and-walk self went out into the ocean to most certainly endanger my child's life and alter the ecosystem with the likes of my massive Dr Pepper lipgloss application.But he asked for it. That is all I am sayin.Soon I heard IJ a hollering, "Honey? Honey? HOOOONNNNEEEYYYY?!??!?! YOU ARE DROWNING MT! HE IS UNDER THE BOARD." Ugh. Details Schmetails.
Mmmmkay -- the first forty eleven tries did not end up so well. Lord have mercy on our dear sweet salt water souls. But these spawn of mine are resilient, right?Hello? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

After many apologies and negotiations, we were determined to try one last time....

Soon we saw the "perfect" wave coming....And being the good and wholesome mother that I am, I threw myself into it with everything I had, sacrificing for my child.... hair and all.

And....Uhm WHAT?!?!?!?!?

I'm MELTING.....I'm MELTING! But my precious son was kinda like almost successfully surfing.

And I now have to go look for a good deal on a jeweled swimsuit wrap or wool blanket. Cause these vaca purchases are awesome!

ET's Adoption Story

2010-08-03T11:20:00.007-04:00

There are some stories that are just too beautiful to tell. The very words to express the joy, devastation, fear, and peace do not exist. I need you to know that. I need you to know this is an injustice. I need you to know that no matter what I write, she is a million times more special and precious than I can ever communicate.

I had just turned 22 years old and two months into my first teaching job. I loved every moment of it. The kids -- oh the kids. They were mine. I attended their football games, their ballet recitals, their softball tournaments, and their birthday parties. I worried about them, prayed for them, loved them. Some more than others -- but I loved them all.

Then there was Calvin. Calvin was almost 14. And in the sixth grade. Calvin was taller than me. And he was mad. Mad at me. Mad at the school. Mad at his parents. Mad at his circumstances. Mad at the world. Calvin was in his sixth foster home. Sixth. And he hated it. He was in fight after fight at school. And time and time again I pleaded to the principal NOT to suspend him. I would watch him 24/7. I took him home from football practice. I drove him to his away games. I brought him and his brother to church. Just don't make him spend another minute in that house. Cause I had a pretty good idea of what was occurring in his foster home -- and it wasn't good.

After a few more incidents and some phone calls to his foster dad -- I picked up the phone to call Calvin's social worker. She was there that afternoon to interview me. Six weeks later Calvin and his entire family moved in with my best friends from church. The rest of the story is too painful to tell in this post. But I failed Calvin. He is now in a detention center.

In the initial interview with Calvin's social worker I mentioned that Indiana Jones and I would be interested in pursuing foster placement for a pre-teen boy, and would love for her to send us the paper work to get started.

We had not thought about kids yet. I wanted them. We both did. But not yet.

Three hours later the phone rang, "This is Miriam, Calvin's social worker. We spoke earlier? I know you were looking for a preteen boy, but we have a one-year-old girl who needs immediate placement. would you be interested?"

"Let me talk to my husband. I will call you back tonight."

I remember walking into our bedroom to find IJ still in his military uniform. I sat down on the bed and began to tell him the story. I left it with, "Maybe we should meet her first to see."

He responded, "See what? If she's pretty? If she's good? If she fits a mold? No. Decide now. Either you will love this baby no matter what or you won't. We don't need to see her."

And with that I picked up the phone.

We went through the fast track of classes, home inspections, referrals, and putting those electrical plugs in the outlets. That is all I knew to do.

Then we met her. At the zoo. With her uncle. And. she. was. perfect. PERFECT.

Eldest Twerps was born to a teenage mom. A precious, beautiful, wonderful teenage mom. Who loved her. But just didn't know how to take care of babies yet.

So, ET had been raised by her grandmother until three months before when her grandma died of cancer. Since then she had a short stay in some shelters until her uncle came and got her. He was young. And not ready to handle a one-year-old girl. He knew she needed more.

Twelve days later, I met him in the parking lot on the Air Force Base and took her home. IJ was in Japan...so my friend Feather stayed with me. I had no clue what I was doing.

When it was time for bed, I announced "BED TIME!" She grabbed her blanket and curled up on the couch. She had never had a bed of her own before. As I carried her to bed, I laid down beside her and began to sing.... "You are my sunshine...my only sunshine. You make me happy..."

She placed her tiny finger to my lips and said, "Hush Momma. Hush."

And with that I knew. It was the happiest moment I had ever experienced. And I knew. She was mine. And I was hers.

Our world revolved around ET. She was embraced in our family. The first grand baby. The first niece. The first love.

As the months went on, we worked on things -- her anger, fear, outbursts, temper -- but she was always loved.

We had MANY court dates and just wanted to finalize the process.

Then, the call came. The mother's rights were not terminated properly. She would have to be re-notified. And when she was, she decided she wanted ET back. It had been one year. There was nothing we could do.

The mother had to pass a few tests, and then ET would transition back to her biological mother. I was devastated. I wanted to dye her hair black and run to Mexico. I wanted to hide. I wanted to run. I wanted to cry.

Instead, we began the process and prayed. I met ET's mom for the first time at a restaurant. And I liked her. Actually, I loved her. She was me. But without the same chances is life. I was her, but with different choices. And above all else, we were the same because we loved ET. More than anything.

Months went on, she completed all terms. She was clean. She was ready to have her daughter back. It had been a year and six months since ET had come to live with us. She was my child.

Then, the court hearing came. The day we would determine when ET would go back to her mom. I remember nothing. I don't remember sleeping, eating, driving, nothing. IJ was out of town so my friend, Rachel went with me.

We walked up to the bench. And the judge began to talk. He was vested in our case. He was visibly upset. He looked at ET's mom and asked what she wanted to say. She came to stand beside me and said,

"I want to sign all my rights over to CG and her family. That is the best place for ET. I want no contact. All I ask for is a picture."

At that moment, I have never felt so much grace and mercy as I did from her. I have never seen such a selfless and giving act. I have never met a mother who loved her child more than to do what was right - but what was so hard. She was the epitome of a giver.

I broke down. She broke down. And we embraced. How do you thank someone for bringing forth such a precious life and then GIVING it away to you? She signed the papers and handed me a letter she had written to ET. She asked me to give it to her when I felt she was ready. I still have it.

I went home that week and started looking for pictures to send. I found the perfect one. You know, the one you make copies of for everyone in the family? The one that captures the essence of her spirit? That was the one.

I looked at IJ and he said, "Send her that one!"

"I would, but it is my only one!"

And what he said next has impacted me forever, "She is giving you her only one."

I put the pic in the mail the next day. We signed the official paperwork three months later.

And from this, I have met two of the most loving, caring, selfless woman alive.

I aspire to be like ET and her mom. I am blessed.

I Am A Portuguese Architect, In My Spare Time

2010-07-29T08:17:00.007-04:00

I know. I know. I promised I would post. And then I didn't. And then you all emailed me and set me straight. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

But I have an excuse. Kinda. If you are merciful and just. I didn't post yesterday because, I bought a house. Now I know what you are thinking GOOD LORD WOMAN, you have moved twice in the past 18 months -- what is up with you? I think we have proven I follow no rhyme or reason. I am an Anomaly. Which reminds me of hominy. Which I am not that. But I do love that. My grandma use to fry up some hominy. And my heart with sing forth in glorious praises as the lard soaked corn slid down my throat.

Sorry. I digress.

Anyhoo. I bought a house. And by "I" I mean "IJ" Cause we are painfully aware of the foster home that slipped through our hands and is a victim of the system now. Sitting. Alone. and Unwanted. Foreclosure doomed before it. It is a sad sad case. I weep.

But we bought a house. And now we are moving on September 27th. Although I might move on September 28th, cause round numbers do more for my skin tone.

And I KNEW you all would want mega details about where we are moving and you would want pics and stories. So I did what any God-fearin, Bible-totin, Good-hearted friend would do. I hired an architect off the coast of Portugal to sketch some prints of the house for you. So they would be drawn to scale and have the level of detail you need to fully grasp the idiosyncrasies of my new home. Plus I have a thing for Portuguese men. IJ knows. That's why I call him Antonio.

Anyhoo -- my new home needed some context behind it. So first I had our skilled architect from Portugal sketch a detailed pic of my current home -- so you can put into context how far away my new home is.

So behold, the award winning Portugal Architect's sketch of my OLD HOME:

I know. I was blown away as well. The skill. The detail. I am in awe.

Now to move on to bigger and better things. My new home.

My new home is a mere SIX houses away from my old home. Which means the following:

My spawn will not have to move schools
I will still have access to the neighborhood wine party.
I will still have access to the neighborhood pool parties
My spawn will still be able to spend their Saturdays roaming aimlessly through the familiar neighborhood begging for breakfast while their mother sleeps in or paints her toenails. Whichever is the most vital for national security that week.
Everything stays almost as close to the same as possible. Cause I don't think we want to have a repeat of 2 years ago when we moved and I almost lost my glitter. It was more than I could stand.

So alas, I bring you the NEW HOUSE:

I know. I know. So much detail. So little time.

This is all I have for now. But I will say this....a kitchen remodel is in my near future!!! Just think...cabinets, counters, islands, appliances, cute curtains with FRINGE!! I just squealed out loud.

So go forth today. And eat some hominy in celebration of my new home.

Love,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Portuguese Architect

My Birthday Weekend with My New, Sent-From-Heaven-Above, Dear Sweet Angel Friend and Melvin

2010-07-11T08:55:00.013-04:00

I am sitting at the breakfast table this morning only a few miles from my favorite place on earth -- the place that makes my heart sing, my spirits lift and my soul rejoice. The ocean.

(Technically I am miles from the bay, not the ocean, the I think we are all painfully aware of how I feel about details, DETAILS SCHMETAILS). Basically, it's all Greek to me. And I am only fluent in English. And hick. And Mandarin Oranges. Or is it Chinese? Again, details schmetails. Anyhoo, since I have moved to this new house in a new city in a new state in a new time zone in a new world, I have been lonely. I miss all my bajillion friends and have prayed and fasted for a girlfriend who likes to drink wine from a box and tease her hair and paint her toenails and take road trips and take my the way I am. Faults and all. Dr Pepper obsessor and Cupcake Lover.

And lo and behold, just when I thought I was destined to be a monk and was ready to shave my head and move to the mountains of Tibet to lead a life of solitude, I found her ...or maybe she found me. Either way, I have always stunk and hide and seek. No one likes to hide. The joy is in finding. And when I found her my soul rejoiced to the angels in heaven.

But then, something happened. Something transpired. Something swooped in and altered the series of glorious events that were taking place. And this something will now make me never be the same again. Ever.

So we were out the other night sitting outside, drinking fruity drinks, talking about the meaning of life and lip gloss shades appropriate for people with peachy undertones, and that is when my life was altered forever.

My new dear sweet angel friend looked over at me, "I'm going to the beach next weekend to see Jimmy Buffett and Friends play a live concert on the beach. And I have an extra ticket, want to go?"

Why I do declare, pass me some grits and sing forth a southern gospel song cause this Country Girl just died and went to heaven. In the sweet by and by. We shall meet on those beautiful shore. Gulf Shores....Alabama...to be specific and all.

At that point and time I blacked out in pure and holy joy. The beach? The place God created for me to be at one with myself and complete my life??? And Jimmy Buffett? The singer who makes my thighs cry forth in glory and contentment?

Yeah, I was in love.

So right after work Friday we took a road trip. We traveled through torrential downpours, too close for comfort lightening and fierce winds. But neither hell nor high water could keep us away from our destiny. And from the morning until late night we were on the water. ON THE WATER. He seduced me with his calming waves and cooling touch. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear. He had me at hello.

But soon, I had to become at one with the locals. To dive right into the culture and experience all this sweet darling town and it's people had to offer. I had to eat...

The Crawfish.

Not because anyone MADE me because well, when in Rome you do as the Romans. And I love gladiator sandals so OBVIOUSLY then I HAD to eat crawfish. And I wanted to sing that song...

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file' gumbo
'Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

But technically it was the BAY, so no one got me. It is my cross to bear.

Anyhoo -- now you might be thinking, "OKAY, so what? She ate a crawfish." Oh yea of little faith. How silly you are to think that ANYTHING would be simple with Country Girl.

I soon learned eating a crawfish was a skilled art. I mainly learned this as I was picking the shell out of my teeth cause APPARENTLY you have to PEEL them, you can't just go and eat em.

Again, detials schmetails. There's a lot of technicalities down here on the Bay.

So my lesson began.

First I learned you should not become emotionally attached with the crawfish. Do not name them. For example, Melvin here was too cute to eat. Look at those beady eyes. And his high cheek bones. He is gonna be a heart breaker. A dream maker. A lover taker. I knew not to mess around with him.Uhm, what? They are already dead??? Seriously? The devil is soooo in the details here people.

So I put Melvin back in the bag and had a moment of silence for the life he lived and the joy he brought to every one's life he came into contact with. Oh, Melvin. Good times. Good times.

Then I proceeded to bring a nameless crawfish from the bag. I had no emotional attachment with Mr. No Name. He was not like Melvin at all.

So, I broke his head away from his tail as I was instructed to do. This took me awhile cause I felt so barbaric. So inhumane. So....so....like I was betraying Melvin and his people.

Then I sucked the "unknown material" from the head. I think it is best we just keep it there. I have no idea what that "unknown material" was, but it tasted like chicken.

Then I pulled the ever -so-tender meat from the tail. And I died and went to heaven. (PS I saw Melvin and he told me to eat and be merry. He was always such a giver.)

And I soon realized crawfish makes my thighs cry forth in glory.

And to my new sweet precious angel friend sent-from-heaven-above I will be eternally grateful.

For she has brought forth crawfish into my life. And my gullet thanks her.

Now on to the beach today for Buffett and the sharing of love to all.

Oh Come to the Church in the Wildwood

2010-07-05T07:53:00.002-04:00

Thanks to all my precious darling friends who gave me advice on which church to go to. It is always good to know there are sweeties out there that will keep you from burning in hell - it's the southern hospitality and all.
Anyhoo, after much thought and consideration last Sunday morning cinched for us which church we shall call home. Even though I am certain all the churches in the area have been in prayer and fasting over us finding our home at ANOTHER church - we have just decided to nestle in to avoid the flames of hell lapping at our feet. MT was starting to get blisters and all.

Sorry, I digress. But on Father's Day the boys "surprise" us with a sweet and darlin song. And what I loved most about this was while everyone was dressed in their khaki nickers and seersucker sundresses and pastel polo shirts, my boys were wearing muscle shirts, holey jeans (for God and all), and baseball caps. And we were accepted. And loved. And embraced.

And that is all it took. The love us just the way we are.

So to celebrate, I grabbed a handful of glitter and began sprinkling it throughout the sanctuary. I think the elders could see the value it added.

Amen.

Decisions are the Spawn of Satan

2010-06-16T08:48:00.006-04:00

I need advice. Which is nothing new in this world. Cause as we are all painfully aware, I cannot make a decision to save my life. Like last week I was fairly certain I was going to stop blogging. But now this week? No way. I need you all too much.

So let's just dive into the main issue at hand. Let's not mince words (or meat for that matter) and just lay it all out on the table.

Now I must place a disclaimer up front. As you read my perils of life below -- please restrain all judgement. Cause judgment is my kryptonite (so is spelling). Judgement is to me what water was the the Wicked Witch of the West. And I have no time for melting this morning. Amen.

And secondly, if I may be so bold, please see beyond my improper grammar and incomplete sentences and ill description to my heart -- and know that my heart here is my kids. And I need your help. Cause those spawn are gonna be the death of me. Mmm Kay? Do you agree? If not, it's okay. I still love and accept you and will listen to your words of wisdom. Thank you and good night.

Church.

That is what I need help with.

Church.

Now let me give you a tad bit of background without putting you to sleep. Hello? Hello? Anyone there? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller? It's that melatonin. It does it every time.

Okay, my history of Church in a nutshell:

Went to church my whole life in a small country non-denominational church
Great community. Great teaching. Great foundation.
Moved to the Methodist church in high school cause they had a VERY active youth ministry and all my friends were doing it.
Got married. Started at a medium sized charismatic church. It became the center of my life. All my friends. Activities. Services. Picnics. Prayer. Support. They carried me through two miscarriages, pre-cancer surgery, and IJ's deployments. They were not only my church but my community. MY FAMILY! They put their love and actions where their mouth was.
After 7 years-ish, we had a change of Pastors.
IJ and I went on staff
Still a great church.
Still doing great things.
But we soon realized this was not the God we knew.
So we quit. Got back in the Air Force. And moved to the Deep South.
Where we have been trying to heal. Not from God. But from people. GOOD people. But still, trying to heal.
Now we need a church ... for relationships both upward and here and now.
For potlucks and BBQs. For baby showers and graduations. For church camps and coffee.
We need community again.
We need OUR KIDS in church.
And we have a decision to make.
And I need you.

There are two churches. I will try to lay them out as honestly as I can. And there will be my biases, but it is my blog and we are friends...so try to read through them.

1. The Far Far Away Church

The first item up for bid is the Far Far Away church. This is a church about 30 minutes away on Sunday mornings (45 to an hour in weekday traffic). It runs about 3,000 people and I LOVE THIS CHURCH. Great teaching. GREAT kids classes. ET's BFF in the neighborhood goes there. She likes the church. We all like the church. But it is BIG. And we have been going for 6 months and have met no one. And except for ET's neighborhood friend, no one goes to the same school. And they do school groups and school bible studies and well....she really has no place. And I really cannot take her to Wednesday night services because it is just too far away. There is not adult small group that serves our "area" so we would have to drive another 30 to 45 minutes to get into a small group. Back home, 30 minutes was nothing. Here in the city - 30 minutes is a whole new world. So the main draw back of the far far away church is this -- After 6 months we are still visitors and anonymous. And I know me -- I do not think this will change. It is just too far away. So if we go to this church -- we would have a GREAT experience for an hour a week. And the occasional camps, and Youth Events that I would try to get ET to. She did go to church camp here and she likes it.

2. The Super Close Church

5 minutes from my house.
About 200 people
Good children's programs but no the flair and games and "show". NOT that it is about that, but I want my kids to WANT to go to church. MT has asked to go back to the other church. And I know he was learning there.
A group of 12 in ET's Middle School group. They are meeting on Sunday's for Bible Study one week then they go into the kids' class and teach it the next week.
An opportunity to be VERY involved.
I worry my kids will not be as excited about being involved or that they will not get "what they need"

And that is all I have. Disjointed. Confused. And well....me.

So what do you think? Help me Rhonda!

Since When Are There Bean Bags In Football?

2010-06-03T07:11:00.004-04:00

We have finished our season of football. I feel like I have emerged from a whole new world. There are downs and off sides and end zones and bean bags. BEAN BAGS? I know. I know. A whole new world.

I know what you are thinking. Cause I thought it too. You just can't help yourself can you? It's the inner Glee. More powerful than you can control. Soooo. let's break out into song together....shall we?

A whole new world. A new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no. Or where to go. Or say we're only dreaming.

I feel better now. Cause when I did that at the football game, I did not receive the same love and acceptance I do here. Just sayin.

Anyhoo, Baby Twerp was quite the character at football this year. The orange bean bags were more than he could handle. They mesmorized him. Drew him in with their sultry glances. He just couldn't help it. Uhm, excuse me Zebra Man, you dropped you bean bag. Hello? Hello? Anyone?"

And inevitale EVERY TIME - this would happen...

"BT, you cannot pick up the bean bags.""Do you hear me? DO NOT TOUCH THE BEAN BAGS?!?!? Aliright, go back in and play!"

"Coach, Coach!! Look what I found. A BEAN BAG! Here, let me bring it to you." BT -- NO BEAN BAGS. Here, stand by me for a little bit."
BT? BT? Where did you go? Is that a BEAN BAG in your hand?"

No bean bags -- okay boys? Do not touch the bean bags. Insert 2 minutes later --

I think that says it all.

Okay BT -- one last chance -- go in there and pretend the BALL is the bean bag. GO GO GO. Okay -- maybe it's just best if you be the masccot.

Or the team's water boy.

Or possibly you have a future in juggling.

Amen.

Without The Heart We Are All Hopeless

2010-05-26T07:45:00.001-04:00

Okay -- there are two things I am just dying to get out. It is like a bad bean burrito all inside me and IT MUST COME OUT. So sorry -- but it is true. And you know it. And if you are all shocked and embarrassed then you do not have a Mexican monster within you that must be tamed on a weekly basis....sometimes daily....sometimes hourly. Hypothetically speaking of course. Amen.

Sorry, I digress. Like I said there are two things I must address right this instant or I may explode into a fine pink glitter powder and it would be a shame and all cause no one is around to witness it or get in on video for YouTube and all - cause we all know I was born for attention.

Item #1 Up for Bid:

1. Momma.

As you are aware I use the phrase quite often. Not only is it what my children call me, but it is what I call the woman who bore me and I write it forty eleven times a day.

Anyhoo, many of you have emailed and/or commented me that it is Mama. And I would first like to say - have I ever spelled or pronounced anything right in my born days? But I still appreciate your desire to refine me and make me where you could take me out in public. But I might be too far gone. Take "rural" for example. That's all. Thank you and good night.

I know you all have the sweetest spirits here and are trying to make me not look dumb. And I appreciate it. Really, I do. But it's more than you can handle. Also, this is really how we say it at our house. Mom ma. Seriously. I know. You are shaking your heads. I can feel it in my soul. But it is the honest to God's truth. I hide my face in shame. Rural.

Okay -- now I must move on. #2 is important. Not that #1 was not important. It was. Especially for all you grammar and English teachers out there. I know. And I love and embrace each of you. Muh wah!

But this one -- this one is gonna make me cry -- like Steel Magnolias -- when she falls outside and the spaghetti sauce is boiling over and the baby is crying and Sally Fields finds her. Oh my my my.

Or in My Life when Michael Keaton is videoing himself shaving as the lesson to his unborn son cause he is not going to live long enough to see his child born.

Or in Step Mom -- when Susan Sarandon realizes Julia Roberts is going to raise her children so she beings to teach and train her -- oh stick a fork in me honey child -- I AM DONE!

Anyhoo -- Sorry, I digress. My #2 important thing that I must share with you right this instant.

#2. If you know someone. Truly really really know someone - You love them. It is true.

I am not saying you like them.

I am not saying you agree with them.

I am not saying you understand them.

But You Love Them.

It's true.

You know when you are watching a movie and you hate the villain? Despise them? Can't relate or understand WHY? But then they flash back to show you where they have been and what they have endured? They show you them as a child -- an innocent sweet baby. They show you their hurts. Their point of view. You see life from -- well -- from their lens.

Suddenly, your heart grows soft -- and while you still don't condone what they have done, you somehow somewhere have found compassion. And understanding. And a spark of love.

Like Darth Vader. Remember when Vader is shown as his former self, Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy who eventually becomes a Jedi , and later, a hero . Then he falls to the dark side and I just want to snatch him up cause we all know he just needed a good Momma. It's true. After that. I loved him.

And who watches Desperate Housewives? Remember Eddie - the serial killer on Wisteria Lane? And his Momma was abusive and an alcoholic? Sure we don't condone his actions -- but I am sorry - I still love Eddie. He needed his Momma. He didn't have the same fair change in life.

Or Eldest Twerp's momma. You might judge and wonder how she could give ET up for adoption. But after you meet her -- and KNOW her -- you realize she is the most selfless and brave woman you will ever meet. Ever. Amen.

Anyhoo -- you like people in movies and on TV shows -- even when they are annoying or awful or evil. You like them and I would say even love them cause you SEE them. You see them behind the scenes. You see them on the weekends. You see them at home. You see their fears and the why. You see them and you understand them and you love them.

You see life through their lens. You put on the glasses of their life and you feel compassion. You understand...you love.

It's like those mommas or sisters who never give up on their sons and brothers. Cause they know where they have been. And we know they are not where they need to be -- but thank God they are not where they use to be.

Anyhoo -- I say all that to say this.

For me (and me only) - I stopped this week. I stopped and looked a little deeper into a few people's lives. A few people that I thought might be selfish and hateful. And I looked at them like some one's child. I saw their point of view. Their hurts. Their insecurities. Their fears.

I believed the best in them.

And suddenly, without me even realizing it, I understood. I still didn't agree with their actions. But I loved them and had compassion for them.

Cause through their lens -- their intentions were right. Their actions? Not so much. But I started judging them on their intentions not their actions -- which is what I hope everyone does for me too.

Anyhoo -- no real point here other than to say -- FOR ME, I forget the heart sometimes. And without the heart, we are all hopeless. I hope to SEE people for WHO they are, not WHAT they do.

That's all.

Now go hug your Mommas.

Amen.

Please Place All Judgment Behind Locked Doors

2010-05-25T07:58:00.002-04:00

Several nights ago it was half past a glass of Cupcake and I had fed, bathed, and clothed my children. That's me -- I am Maslow. I meet their hierarchy of needs: food, shelter, clothing. I am mom of the year. No denying it. Please go ahead and monogram my award. Yes, in the South we do not engrave....we monogram. Amen. Anyhoo, I had my glass of Cupcake and the spawn were clean as a whistle and ready for bed. And I did my normal sweet heavenly night time routine. I stood at the stairs and ever so delicately yelled from the bottom step: "Spawn of mine? Birthed from my womb? Come hither."

And of course, they didn't. So I had to tramps up the stairs to find them eating soap and coloring on my bathroom walls. I completely normal event in all American homes. But when we did the count off of spawn - we were one short. ONE SHORT. One man was left behind - well NOT ON MY WATCH! NOT ON MY WATCH! (and it is a lovely Skagen silver mesh watch - darling if I do say so myself).

So we began our search:

Under the bed? Nope.

Behind the toilet? Nada.

In the flower beds? Empty.

Out in the street riding his bike in his skivvies? BINGO!Yes, that is how we roll.I know there are many angles we can take her -- but may I please point out...
That he was bathed, fed, and clothed.....

I think that is all now.

Thank you.

I Am Putting Her In Pigtails

2010-05-24T12:56:00.006-04:00

Good Morning my lovely world changers. Uhm, okay -- it is afternoon. Details Schmetails. Please don't judge my time telling abilities. I have ingested no Dr Pepper yet today. Thus, I am unaware of time. Thus, I think I am not aging. Thus, I am still wearing leg warmers. Thus, I shall forever be cool. Amen.

Anyhoo, sooooo several of you freaked out a smidgens cause I kinda bought a house while IJ was out of town. This is what he gets for leaving me with Power of Attorney over him. And three spawn. With only one bottle of Cupcake wine in the fridge. And Whole Foods stopped carrying it. And I fell on the floor and cried out "Father? Father? Why hast though forsaken me?" And the manager came over and had me escorted out. I know. They are so hateful. But I snuck out a Cupcake replacement bottle and instead of grapefruit it is infused with mango. I am more of a grapefruit. In case you were unaware.

Anyhoo -- okay. the house.

As you all are aware (cause you read and reread all 1, 010 entries of my blog on a daily basis and follow every Twitter I tweet - right? Hello? Uhm, tap tap. Anyone there?)

We were unaware if we would be getting orders to go to a far off strange land - like Texas - or not so we did not know if we could buy a house here in the Deep South or if we would be moving once again to a strange and barren land to inhabit. So we waited.

And while we waited, we got orders. To here. To stay. In a land that flows with grits and honey. So I rejoiced. And I was driving home one day and I saw this.... And I stopped cause someone was there. And I loved her. She called to me for a deep place of within. And I looked at her. Deeply looked at her. And saw all her blemished and age marks and imperfections. And I still loved her. For exactly who she was. But knew that a good exfoliation would do wonders.

Then I found out she was getting ready to go into foreclosure. And I could hear he cries for mercy and her pleas for someone to save her before they came a tore her away from everything she ever knew to be good and holy and just. And she wept.

I mean seriously! How could I not just pick her up and take her home with me? Her parents had abandoned her. Left her for the wolves. So I signed some paper work and went home.

And now I drive by her everyday and hang hummingbird feeders from trellises and plant daisies near her foundation. So she can feel as beautiful on the outside as I know she once was. Occasionally I might whisper sweet nothings in her screens. But this is a family blog and all so I will not go into the details.

Anyhoo -- we should find out in 10 business days if the bank who now owns her will take my offer. And if that big old bad bank says no -- I will faltulate in his general direction (name that movie).

Anyhoo -- I love her. I love her. I love her. And where she goes I'll follow. I'll follow. I'll follow. I will follow herrrrr... Follow her where she may go. There isn't an ocean too deep, a mountain so high it can keep -- keep me away. She is my destiny.

Anyhoo -- I am certain IJ will fall in love with her too when he sees her. I plan on putting her in pig tails the first time he meets her. Who can say no to a little girl in pigtails who has been abandoned?

Exactly.

I've Got Another Confession to Make

2010-05-23T13:35:00.008-04:00

I think in song. I swear my life is one big musical and I am the only one in it. At least the only one IN on it. Cause inevitably when I break out into song during conversations, I always get the "OKAY" awkward walk away. It hurts.

So since I cannot be myself to anyone in my non-virtual world, I will be me with you -- cause you withhold all judgement and you love and embrace me for the Mary Poppins that dwells within. Amen.

If this post were an episode of Glee I would start off with a little Foo Fighter...

I've Got Another Confession to Make

and then I would ever so delicately move into Chris Isaak's

Baby did a bad bad thing, baby did a bad bad thing.
Baby did a bad bad thing, feel like crying, feel like crying.

Then right on the heels of that I would have to ask for David Gray's

Please forgive me if I act a little strange, for I know not what I do...

And then I would move into a dramatic cry like Puss n Boots on Shrek.

Cause I mighta kinda possibly sorta maybe have done a bad bad thang.

Let's start in the beginning, shall we?

Once upon a time in a far away land called the Deep South there lived a Country Girl. An awkward indecisive woman who was consumed with Cupcake wine and pink glitter. She had a flair for the dramatic - but absolutely positively no-doubt-about-it could not make a decision to save her dear sweet precious soul. Not even on the holiest of all Sundays - no siree Bob. She just couldn't do it.

So she relied of her Raider of the Lost Ark to sweep in and save her from the temple of doom - indecisiveness. Yes, Indiana Jones was her savior. He was her go-to-guy. The one who would sign on the dotted line and save her from the stress of the plunge.

However....

IJ was deployed to a far away land called Texas. And Country Girl was left to the solace and independence that only the Air Force could bring - so she shopped. She shopped to pass the time away. She couldn't decide on the red pumps or the jeweled heels. The bedazzled peasant shirt or the starched fitted blouse. She thought and she thought, but alas - no decision could be made.

Until one day -- she drove by a house. And it was for sale. And it cried out to her.

Country Girl saw so much hope in this home. So much potential. So much beauty that was hidden from the years on neglect and abuse. And right then and there, Country Girl fell in love. She feel in love with what this home COULD be. With what a little love and investment could make in this precious home's life.

So she bought it. Kinda like right then and there.

And she now kinda has to tell IJ. But she doesn't know how. Or if she should. She just can't decide.

Maybe she should write him. Or tell him on the phone. Maybe she can reach him by railway, maybe she can reach him by trailway

Maybe she can reach him on an airplane, or can reach him with her mind

She can reach him by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man

She doesn't care how she tells him, just- tell him if you can!

And uh - yeah. She just doesn't know what to do. But she did it -- and now. Uhm, yeah. Maybe she possibly shoulda coulda woulda mighta wanted to think this through a little more.

Maybe, but she just doesn't know.

Gulp.

Textversations With Indiana Jones

2010-05-21T05:59:00.000-04:00

Just a few more days until Indiana Jones is home. We barely have time to talk while he is away cause his days are so long and he gets up at 4:30 am and while we COULD talk at that hour, well -- I think no explaination is needed. God understands.

Anyhoo -- IJ and I have text exchanges instead. Cause to me, it is like mini blogging. And what could be more natural and romantic and ordained by God?

So below -- our latest textversation. I think you will miss him too.........

~~~~~~~~~
gosh i love and miss you guys so much

where did that come from? if it helps not miss me so much - i have not shaved my legs all week.

just tired of being here. headed to tx rdhouse for supper

u don't know what i would do for some of those texas roadhouse rolls right now - and that butter? oh lord save my soul.

its good - way too may cards tho

cards?

carbs

oh -- if lovin carbs is wrong, i don't wanna be right. i balance my carbs w a side of bacon

these keys are too small

u have fat thumbs. i am sorry. but it is true. u have shrek thumbs

ok u r 2 fast

keep up baby. u married a younger woman. Mush. Mush.

this deployment makes me feel old

crows feet make me feel old. but i got some creme for that

oh whatever - u look as good as the day we got married

cause we got married in a fever - hotter than a pepper sprout. and i think i look better cause i have bigger hair.

me too - but no you had bigger hair then

seems impossible, but u know big hair is cute in far off cultures. like mars. i would be a smokin hot alien.

And with that, there was no response. I apparently have lost my ability to flirt.

I Am Cameron

2010-05-20T02:11:00.008-04:00

It appears my life desires drama. As my momma says. "If it ain't one thing, it's 15 others." I live in the 15 others category of life.
But BT woke up looking like the elephant man -- and I screamed and passed out like any good Southern Woman would do but then I picked myself up and declared,

"We are going to live through this, and when it's all over, we'll never be bumpy again - no, nor any of our folks! If we have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God as our witness, we'll never be bumpy again."

Then they just stare at me like I am the strangest thang they have ever seen in their lives and I just smile knowing one day they will appreciate me. As God as my witness.Anyhoo -- I took him to the doctor and we were taken back immediately. I think it was in reply to the outcries from the other parents who would not let their children NEAR my spawn. I think it was because his belt did not match his shoes. I understood.

But the doctor came in , looked him over, and went right back out -- and brought in another doctor who looked him over and went right back out -- and brought in another doctor who looked him over and sighed.

They then took out a dry erase marker.

At this point I thought they were just going to color the bumps away. I sat silently as no expalination was needed. I understood. I embrace avoidance too. If you can't see it, it must not exsist. It's my motto. Right next to I'm a lover not a fighter. And I love you more than my luggage. Amen. Sorry, I digress.

Instead they wrote six words I could not pronounce on a white board.

And I soon realized I was in an episode of House. I declared right then and there I wanted to be Cameron.

And they brought in books and a laptop and laser pens. And that allowed them to narrow it down to two possibilities of disease infestations. But circle one.

It was the one I would have circled from the beginning. Just sayin.

Papular Dermatitis.

Also known as "Itchy Red Bump Disease"

Seriously.

I'm not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed, but I was all over that one.

Apparently, he has a viral disease of some sort in which we may never know what it is and it caused this rash.

At this point Baby Twerp declared, "I don't like viral disease. He not my friend."

I agree. We are taking back the "st. ends." half of our Best Friends necklace from Viral Disease.

He is hateful.

So now we have Itchy Red Bump Disease.

Seriously, what will they think of next?

The Power of Nice -- or Stalking

2010-05-15T23:48:00.013-04:00

Someone in my company gave me smoking awesome glittery tickets to a MLB game tonight. And the tixs came with perks and bells and whistles so I was excited and all -- but I really just wanted a funnel cake. And don't you even prentend you don't know what I am talking about. Amen.

Most people would have zeroed in immedaitely on the super sweet seats and the fact we could almost reach out and touch the players in the dug out. But not me. Nope. So sorry. I was just glad they had their names written on their backs so I could finally call them by their respectable family name instead of my normal tactics"Sweetie? Excuse me...Honey? Mr MLB player man? Sweetie?" It just made it so nicer. I never got if they returned the feeling or not. But I am certain the dear sweet precious angels did.
Anyhoo -- like iI said. Most people were ga ga over the great view of the players. But I zeroed in on something else right away. Something that was calling out to me. Suduicing me with his man powers and I was putty in his strong influencial arms. He was speaking my love language....and he has known my whole life how to have a hold on me. We were not new lovers but an old flame.

The Camera. Oh Mr Camera Man? How are you? Have you been doing this very long? WOW How amazing. What's your name? I'm Country Girl. Wanna meet my spawn?Oh yes, yes. They are darling. You should put them on the big sceen. They are the BIGGEST Angel fans.

You mean Atlanta fans?

Oh wait? Yes. Yes. I mean Atlanta.

Those Angelic Atlantaaaaa.....

Braves?

Oh yes. Yes. Braves. Land of the free, Home of the Brave. The Atlanta Braves. God rest their soul. That's what I always say. Braves! Braves to the death. Yep, that's me. I practically have a Braves tattoo somewhere on me. Yeah. Eat em up Spit em out Go BRAVES Go. Rah Rah. Anyhoo -- MT and I ended up on the big screen for the kissing cam. And he smooched me. And then BT, ET, and I ended up on another shot with the infamous foam finger. Yes my friends. THAT is the power of nice. Or fear of me becoming a permanenat stalker. Either way -- I like to not get into the details schmetails. Why drill down. Bottom line? I am practically famous now. I am certain my life is about ready to change.

We also got to experience how the OTHER half live as we had access to the the Club. And the food there? Oh how my thighs cried out in glory.

And we were able to view the game from up high and what a view it was.

I think after awhile it was quite obvious we did not belong.

NOT because I had on pink flower flip flops and a foam finger. But because we really did act like a bunch of Savage Indians. Which I think is the meaning behind "Braves" but I get confused and all cause I hear they call themselves the Angels too. Soo -- we went back to our seats. And I has befriended James. He was the guard for the dug out. NO ONE was getting by James to talk to those players. BUT -- I just thougtht I would ask. So I simply said James? Can we look into the dug out? He said SURE -- BUT NO CAMERAS!

So I did what any law abiding sweet Southern obedient lady would do -- I tossed it to some college guys behind me and told them to snap some photos. And we chatted with some of the players and they were sweet and nice and all. BUT THEN.... Then they said "Wanna come in?" And I did my OMG OMG-fan-my-face-with-my-hands-cause-I-might-pass-out

And they lifted MT right on over and let him hang for a few seconds. And I of course maintained my composure and continued to appear cool and calm in the course of what was the COOLEST thang ever. I mean how many people get to go into the Atlanta Angels dug out? And I let them know my apprecaition as I shouted out "Angels Are The Best Baseball Team Ever!!!!!!"

And with that they gave me back MT. I think they were overwhelmed by my love and support.

Amen

Interview With An IJ

2010-05-11T22:51:00.002-04:00

Indiana Jones is away. On military assignment. Protecting America and keeping the communist out of your backyard. He's a giver like that and all.

He has 16hour days, so when he can call it is for a short amount of time and he is so tired it is hard to even focus.

But tonight -- tonight my dear sweet precious friends I transcribed our conversation. Cause dag gone it, I am all about transparency and honesty. And he doesn't read this silly old blog -- I am fairly certain they have it blocked on the base too -- cause I could be a threat to security and all. Anyhoo -- a look behind the scenes. IJ: Uncut, Uncensored, and Raw. I like my men like I like my steaks.

Hey Sweet Honey Bunches of O's. What are you up to?
Just came back to my room and watching The Office. Some of these people remind me of you.

Do you miss me?
Oh yeah.

What do you miss most about me?
Just the normal day to day stuff. Just sitting around talking. Half heartedly listening to you talk too fast.

If you had to give an analogy for how much you miss me, what would it be?
Analogies really aren't my strength -- but for you, I'll try -- I miss you like BT misses cookies. And we all know he is a chubby kid.

Guess what?
What?

I wanted you to guess...
You bought a lama.

Okay, that was no fun-- I got 5th row seats behind first base with VIP dinner and club access to the MLB game Saturday night.
Wow, who are you you takin?

Uhm, I got 4 tixs so I am taking your spawn.
My kids?

Well, I mean we haven't done a paternity test of anything, but I am fairly certain...yeah.
Well, aren't you mom of the year?

Actually I lost that earlier this year when I let BT go to Pre K without underwear on - but no need to bring up the past. I like to think of myself as Woman Extraordinary of the Century -- with killer shoes
I can go for that

Yeah? What else can you go for?
More than you are willing to give

GASP! What?!? My Dr Pepper lip gloss? Oh wait. GASP GASP GASP! My three inch heels?!?!

Oh I ordered this new European Body Butter that makes my skin look like a 23 year old.
How much did that cost?

Uhm, a lot. But I don't think you can put a price on 10 years younger.
How much younger would the Equate stuff from Wal Mart make you look?

Only 2 years.
I like 2 years younger. A lot. It's more my zone.

Well, trust me -- this is worth it. You will not recognize me. You will think I am my daughter.
That's weird.

I think you're just jealous.
I think you should just use Equate.

If I were an animal what would I be?
A gazelle.

Why?
Cause they are innocent and clumsy.

You think I'm clumsy?
I wouldn't call you athletic.

It's cause I don't like to sweat. I'm more of a glistener.
You should change that feature about you.

What else should I change about me?
That you would use Equate

I love you. Hard to believe a 23 year old loves you, huh?
Yeah, especially since I am broke from spending money on body butter.

I love you poor man
I love you too crazy woman.

There's a New Sheriff in Town. Maybe. If You Think It Is a Good Idea.

2010-05-05T23:19:00.006-04:00

I can't make a decision to save my dear sweet precious soul. Cause what if i make someone mad? Or choose poorly? The pressure. The stress. I. Just. Can't. Do. It.

Until tonight. Tonight there is a new woman in town. I am making decisions left and right. Or is it right and left? Which should I say? And I felt like I should share so you can hold me to it. Or talk me out of it.

I am sure you are asking WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

Well. some people call me the Space Cowboy. Some call me the Gangster of Love. Some people all me Maurice. Just know this....I am a picker, I'm a grinner. I'm a lover. And I'm a sinner.

Anyhoo, it started small. I decided on a new pair of black pumps. Cause I have said it once and I will say it again and again. A woman can never have too many pair of black pumps. Amen.

Then I decided we are getting a dog -- at Christmas. I have no idea what kind. Or what name -- but that is what I have you all for -- you know the details and the right answers. You are a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Decision #3 for me -- trampoline. Yeah, I am getting one. I am going to say it is for the Twerps. But I am baring my soul here and tellin ya the straight skinny -- it is for me. I want it. And I am totally going to do flips on it. Amen.

I also decided I want these chairs. Cause they say Come on in. Kick off your shoes and relax your feet. They also say you can have boxed wine and I will still embrace and love you. Now that is my kind of acceptance and peace I need in my life. I just know these chairs will whisper sweet nothings in my ear late at night.

I can feel it in my bones.

I also decided that I love my life -- as messy and imperfect as it is. I love it. And I love each of you.

XXXOOO,

Random But Normal

2010-05-04T22:24:00.004-04:00

Good Evening my Lovelies. I hope you are doing well. I have all kinds of stuff to chat and talk with you about. But I can't speak in complete sentences so you will get random, disjointed, fragmented Country Girl. I know, I know -- you are use to the linear, grammatically corrected proper Country Girl so this will be shocking. That's me -- shocking. Kinda like Jerry Springer, but saved and at peace with the dear, sweet Baby Jesus. Lying in his crib.

Anyhoo...

I miss Indiana Jones
And I miss him so bad I am going to make him do a blog interview this week
Cause I think it will strengthen our communication and marriage and bring us closer together
OK -- really cause he is thousands of miles away and can't kill me nor read this silly blog
Probably
I mean he might KNOW people that could kill me
But then who would raise his spawn?
Never mind, maybe I won't do the interview
We will see
First -- confession time
Forgive me father for I have sinned
I used Comic Sans in an email
But it's not entirely my fault
I got a new computer at work
and the default font on my email was Comic Sans
I was like Whoa Hoah. Who gave me this 1999 computer
I think it was Prince
Cause that is how we party and all
Anyhoo -- for those of you who do NOT read my Twitter
{insert crickets}
My test results came back benign. No malignancy
Rinse and repeat in 6 months
As my momma would say PTL
Speaking of mommas
Mothers Day is coming up
And I shall be giving the gift that keeps giving
I am going home to see my Momma and Mammaw
I am certain they are overjoyed with the thought of me and three heavenly spawn trampsing through their beloved homes
Messing up their ironed lace doilies
We reek havoc on ironed lace doilies
Its part of my spawn's genetic code
Anyhoo -- I got me a realtor
Why "What for?" you might ask?
Yeah, for what you are thinking.
Which means you can IMAGINE the posts that are going to ensue
Cause I can't make a decision on what shoes to wear...never the less something LARGE
Like earrings
Heaven help us
Also. as my cool hip teenager neighbor would say
I beast my meeting this week
But then I tripped and fell in front of forty 'leven people at the airport
But then someone called me beautiful
And I forgot about my bloody elbow
AND IJ asked me where I wanted to go on vaca this summer
And I have MADE A DECISION
all by myself
I want to go to Hilton Head
Probably
With the Twerps
And then just he and I go to a little get away
But then who would watch the kids?
Duh. Sprout.
and CN
Amen.
Anyhoo -- I miss you all
And will be posting IJ's interview soon
or possibly if I don't post you should go looking for the hit man
Amen.

Love,

I Got A Pocket Got A Pocket Full of Sunshine

2010-04-25T20:54:00.007-04:00

I always have the internal dilemma of whether I share too much on this silly ol blog or not. But I don't know how NOT to share. I don't know how to NOT be me. Believe me -- I've tried...but inevitably the same country girl who thinks everyone is her BFF rears her head up time and time again. My motto? I love EVERYBODY, so why doesn't everybody love me? I think it's best we leave that one unanswered.

One thing that is as consistent as the day is long -- us Southern Women are in love with avoidance. It is our saving grace. When sorrows like sea billows rolls -- we just apply an extra layer of lip gloss, pinch our cheeks and pretend life is all kittens and rainbows. Yes, avoidance is our secret lover indeed.

So are grits, sweet tea, and monogrammed towels - but that's another story for another therapy session. Hypothetically speaking and all.

Anyhoo -- if you might recall, about six months ago I had this nodule mass thingy found on my neck -- and while I was most certain it was a glitter pocket almost plump enough to shower forth upon all -- the doctors still wanted to check it out. Cause apparently, a bursting glitter pocket could put an eye out. So they biopsied it and someone in a very thick accent called me while I was in California and I could have sworn she said it was benign. Fine. Okay. All good. Amen. Let's celebrate with a glass of Cupcake wine, shall we? Okay -- TWO, but only if you insist.

Then, a couple weeks ago I fell deathly ill. Indiana Jones had left and would not be back until June (just a friendly reminder that if you are a 40 year old man reading this in your whitey tighties, I am a card carryin member of the NRA. Just sayin). And while I was in NYC I got a fever (not married in a fever, just clarifyin for Johnny Cash and all) and I was shivering and felt just lousy. I ached in my chest and my armpits. A strange combination, but my armpits have always felt neglected. So they cry out for attention occasionally. It's a cross I must bear.

Anyhoo, I called the doctor up and the doctor said, "YOU HAVE STREP THROAT and lo and behold your lymph nods are the size of fried up dumplins. We are fairly certain you have mono"

So I went home and slept for 3 days. When I awoke I was like WHAT DO YOU MEAN RONALD REAGAN IS NOT PRESIDENT -- and WHO ARE YOU? WHAT?! WHEN DID I HAVE CHILDREN?

Then I got up and applied lip gloss, curled my hair, and felt like I could conquer the world.

Until the follow up call came.

Uhm, we got your blood work back. Can you come in for more tests?

And off I went. And off they went to telling me this -- and only this, so help me God.

The mass in your neck is larger. And there are more. And you SHOULD have come back sooner since your last tests were inconclusive. Schedule another biopsy immediately.

Uhm, exsqueeze me -- a baking powder? INCONCLUSIVE? What you talkin about Willis?

Soooo -- I went back on Thursday and had another biopsy -- which is basically the equivalent to putting a straw in a Capri Sun.
And now I wait.

But here is what I do know -- cause I asked 3 main questions

Will I die? No. Worse case scenario they will take out my thyroid and some lymph nodes and then follow up with a radiation pill. But I WILL NOT die. So I am now taking bak my grandmother's ring from ET. And my neighbor needs to give me back my silver.

Will I lose my hair? (these are not in order of importance mind you) No. While it may thin a little (VERY LITTLE) I will not lose my hair. Thank you Lord Jesus.

Will I get fat? Only if I eat Krispie Kreme every morning for breakfast. At this point and time there was awkward silence. While I would be on medication for the rest of my life and scans will always be a part of my life, I should only gain the weight from the side effects of key lime pie -- the wench it is and all.

Best case scenario -- it is just a mass of tootie fruity and we will just have to keep an eye on her. So she doesn't burst forth in jubilee.

So that is where I am. I have the neck of Uncle Vito but the optimism the size of the Texas sky.

So -- if you ain't too busy over the next few days -- say a Hail Mary, or light a candle, or rub Buddah's belly, or give a shout out to the big JC (not Penney's) and when I do burst forth, I'll make sure some of that glitter is sent your way.

XXXOOO,

Country Girl

I Send an SOS to the World

2010-04-20T20:49:00.005-04:00

Sooo, ET came home with a project from school. A project that gave her the opportunity to learn from a mother who could teach her to sew, create, and invest in the art of homemaking -- unfortunately, she has me, so she will be learning none of these things.

Instead I come to you -- my soul mates.

ET is involved in an entrepreneur project in which she has to:

Take $10 and buy craft supplies
Create a "product" (up to 20)
Market and sell your product for no more than $2 per item (to 7th and 8th graders)

And I am at a loss of what she can MAKE. I can't sew a button to save my sweet precious life. And she has NO interest in making lip gloss or glitter pockets. I know. I know. I wept as well.

I did give her two other choices:
or --

Both of which she feels are THE most INSANE crafts she has ever seen in her LIFE. GAWD.

What to the evah.

She wants to make some type of locker magnets or organizers ?????

I want to pay someone to be a good mother for the rest of the week.

CAN ANYONE PUH LEEZE help me?

Her BFF is doing jewelry so she wants to stay away from that --

Oh heaven please shower your mercy and grace upon my life and SOMEONE who has a creative craft bone in their body help a momma out.

This Mess of a Woman

2010-04-18T08:13:00.007-04:00

I woke up this morning to the sound of machine guns and billowing voices. I allowed one eye to slit open only to see an army hat blur by followed by a grenade to my face.

The battle was one. The war had been waged -- and I was the target for destruction.

But I am a lover, not a fighter. Please STOP FIGHTING! Please stop the struggle.

The struggle for peace, for balance, for approval, for air.

I feel this oozes over to my life. My body aches. My mind is weary. I have no patience. I want to pull the covers over my head and try to allow the decibel level of the screams not only of my spawn - but of my life - to be at a tolerable, manageable level. I don't wait to fight. I don't want to struggle anymore.

I need place where my soul can breathe.

A place that when the footprints of doubt are stamped across my body I can cleanse myself -- be naked...be exposed.....be vulnerable....be who you I am...and still feel sufficient.

I need that place. I need to sit. And be still. And know, that I am not enough. Put that His grace is sufficient for me.

I have too much on my plate -- and I am doing none of it well, but all of it half-way. There is only one of me - not four. And it would take four of me to do it all right now.

I need to get back. Back to those days when summer vacation lasted two and a half years. And when a sunny day and watermelon meant heaven. My love for life did not change as I have grown up, but other things have grown so large they have shoved that love in the corner.

And need I remind you -- Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

So she is coming back. And this mess of a woman will be all straightened up.

And pick glitter can once again be showered to all.

But not til after my mid morning nap.

Amen.

PS As I went to click the publish button, BT came in and said, "MOMMA! I can't believe you forgot. I am serious. You forgot to spoil me! When you gonna do that?"

And with that, I smiled.

Tradition: Easter Cookies

2010-04-11T07:07:00.015-04:00

We have an Easter tradition at our house of making these cookies while telling the Easter story. Since we were on vaca on Easter, I told the kids this week was Easter -- now as we are headed to church I am rethinking the consequences to this lie. But at least they now know Jesus died on the cross for my sins so now I am forgiven. So there. Amen.

You will need:
Bible (I put the scriptures below in case you are like me and well, in case you are like me)
1 cup sugar
1 cup whole pecans (You can omit. Still use for the story, just do not add.)
1 zip-lock baggie
1 wooden spoon
Dash of salt
1 teaspoon vinegar
3 egg whites
tapePreheat oven to 300° F.

Place pecans in zipper baggie and let children beat them with the wooden spoon to break into small pieces.

Explain that after Jesus was arrested He was beaten by the Roman soldiers. (We broke them, but omitted in the mix. They make my tongue itch.)

Read John 19:1-3

Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged Him. And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and put it on His head, and they put on Him a purple robe, And said, Hail, King of the Jews! and they smote Him with their hands. John 19:1-3

Let each child smell the vinegar. Put 1 tsp. vinegar into mixing bowl. Explain that when Jesus was thirsty on the cross He was given vinegar to drink.

Read John 19:28-30

After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I thirst. Now there was set a vessel full of vinegar: and they filled a sponge with vinegar, and put it upon hyssop, and put it to His mouth. When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, It is finished: and He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost. John 19:28-30

Add egg whites to vinegar. Eggs represent life. Explain that Jesus gave His life to give us life.
Read John 10:10-11

The thief come not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd give His life for the sheep. John 10:10-11

Sprinkle a little salt into each child's hand. Let them taste it and brush the rest into the bowl. Explain that this represents the salty tears shed by Jesus' followers, and the bitterness of our own sin.

Read Luke 23:27
And there followed Him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented Him. Luke 23:27

So far the ingredients are not very appetizing. Add 1 cup sugar. Explain that the sweetest part of the story is that Jesus died because He loves us. He wants us to know we belong to Him.

Read Psalm 34:8 and John 3:16

O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trust in Him. Psalm 34:8

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believe in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16

Beat with a mixer on high speed for 12 to 15 minutes until stiff peaks are formed. Explain that the color white represents the purity in God's eyes of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus. (I beat for 10 minutes in high. It had the consistency of melted marshmallows.)

(Please note the 12 year old throwing a hissy fit cause the 6 year old gets more mixing time than her. She should be SO thankful Jesus died on the cross for her sins.)

Read Isaiah1:18 and John 3:1-3

Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Isaiah 1:18

There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that Thou doest, except God be with Him. Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. John 3:1-3

Fold in broken nuts (if you wanna add em). Drop by teaspoons onto parchment paper covered cookie sheet. Explain that each mound represents the rocky tomb where Jesus' body was laid.

Read Matthew 27:57-60

When the even was come, there came a rich man of Arimathaea, named Joseph, who also himself was Jesus' disciple: He went to Pilate, and begged the body of Jesus. Then Pilate commanded the body to be delivered. And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed. Matthew 27:57-60

Put the cookie sheet in the oven, close the door and turn the oven OFF.

Give each child a piece of tape and seal the oven door. Explain that Jesus' tomb was sealed.

Read Matthew 27:65-66

Pilate said unto them, Ye have a watch: go your way, make it as sure as ye can. So they went, and made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone, and setting a watch. Matthew 27:65-66

GO TO BED! Explain that they may feel sad to leave the cookies in the oven overnight.
Jesus' followers were in despair when the tomb was sealed.

Read John 16:20-22

Verily, verily, I say unto you, That ye shall weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remember no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man take from you. John 16:20-22

On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie.

Notice the cracked surface and take a bite.

The cookies are hollow! On the first Easter, Jesus' followers were amazed to find the tomb open and empty.

Read Matthew 28:1-9

In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre. And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and His raiment white as snow: And for fear of Him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men. And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly, and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead; and, behold, He go before you into Galilee; there shall ye see Him: lo, I have told you. And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy; and did run to bring His disciples word. And as they went to tell His disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying, All hail. And they came and held Him by the feet, and worshipped Him. Matthew 28:1-9

Then go to church in your white pants and pastels and eat your kids Cadberry eggs.

Purell, Pee, and Prayers

2010-04-10T04:53:00.000-04:00

This child? Oh how he melts my heart. He marches to the beat of a different drummer. Actually, he skips to the harpsichord. It's more his thang.But from the time he was born he has known what he has liked and what makes his forehead crinkle - and let's be honest, people pay lots of moolah to get rid of the forehead crinkle so I am trying to prevent this in Baby Twerp at an early age. Botox is no goal worth reaching. But Baby Twerp was born with an aqua allergy. And it was quite clear the first time I put him in a pool of water and he broke out in wailing and gnashing of teeth. And let me just tell you honey child, that Penicillin does NOTHING for hysterics. Believe me, I tried. It was a cryin shame. However, slowly but surely we have built up an immunity to water. And we are now able to get up to our neck in nice chlorinated, germ free water. With goggles of course - to protect the retina and possibly bacterial eye infections - duh. Not to mention while most children have their pockets stuffed with rocks or frogs or army men, BT has travel-sized Purells. It's just his thang.

So while we were at the beach, there was NO WAY in Dante's Inferno that BT was going to have any part of ENTERING the ocean. Sure, it was purty. Sure, we loved the sound. But actually GO INTO ITS BACTERIAL PIT INFESTATION? Don't get crazy! We had too much work to do on the beach calculating the amount of sand it would take to do any sort of damage to his immune system. And we have to go to our happy spot and turn potential disease infested grains of sand into a heavenly being -- thus "Sand Angels."But the waves were just too much for him and the calmness of the shore has much more of an enticing drawl. But there was one advantage to going into the ocean we had not calculated.

Uhm, exsqueeze me? Baby Twerp?!?!?

Just go IN THE OCEAN! Ahhhhh.

Help me Baby Jesus.

I Want Another One

2010-04-07T14:57:00.000-04:00

child.

Not husband.

I felt as though I should clarify.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

2010-04-06T21:04:00.000-04:00

Well Lord have mercy on my sweet precious soul. My heart has found a home. And the spawn?

I think these pics say it all...

We are never leaving. Never. Ever. And you can't make me. Period. Amen.

But we took a boat to this little private island and I remember going here as a kid....so I wanted a group pic. Just like I had as a kid. And the coordiantion for this pic took forty-eleven minutes and seventy-twenty threats and a coon's ages worth of bribes. and. we. finally. got. it. Until the TIDE CAME IN.... And the freezing COLD waterrushed up on Baby Twerp -- who was having no part of it. And then it hit my squishy patooshie...Which made my old hiney get to moving Amen.
Then IJ made me change lickity split so he could take me out honkey tonkin. And I have not washed my hair all week so don't go to judgin.

Amen.

The Land that Flows with Milk and Honey

2010-04-05T00:11:00.001-04:00

We arrived at the altar of holy paradise Saturday. And my heart cried forth in glory as my soul sang forth the praises of jubilee. My spawn inherited my lust for the ocean.
And they went straight from the car to the beach. In 2.2 seconds.
But this one? This one came a runnin to me -- weeping. Panicked. There. were. crabs. in. the. water. And one touched HIM. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

I then had to explained that a little crabbiness never hurt anyone -- just ask your father, he lives with me! My sign is the crab. I am cancer. He then looked at me confused and forlorned, but got back in the water to love and conquer his fear.And soon, we were naming the hermit crabs. And building small sand condos for them. And I ain't one to gossip, but I am fairly certain Ira was two-timin Mabel cause he kept visiting Earlene's adobe. I'm just sayin. I thew him back in.

And this one? Grrrr to this one. If I ever lay down my camera he sneaks it and takes HUNDRED of pics of one thing and one thing only. There is only one that I could possibly appropriately post.....

Cause he is obsessed with my squishy patooshie. And nobody ev-er wants a zoom lens on that.

But we were back to playin in the sand. And what does one do when one is at the beach? BURY their little brother. And Baby Twerp was all game....
And loving ever minute of it. Until......Until Middle Twerp whispers in his ear, "I put a crab in by your toes...do you feel him?""GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT! HELP ME LORD JESUS -- GET ME OUT!!"And I came to the rescue and dug my poor sweet precious angel baby out of the sand. And the hermit crab too. While this one? This one thinks he is the new Johnny Knoxville.

And I need to pray more. Lord knows I'm gonna need it.

Your Momma's A Heifer

2010-03-30T20:32:00.000-04:00

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

2010-03-26T09:05:00.002-04:00

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

2010-03-22T22:48:00.009-04:00

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

2010-03-21T08:52:00.009-04:00

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

2010-03-20T12:46:00.002-04:00

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.

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.
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.
I have to be able to drive from the Deep South within 10 hours.
It has to be warm -- (please see #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

2010-03-19T19:41:00.001-04:00

Slaves -- I Mean College Students

2010-03-17T10:11:00.000-04:00

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

2010-03-16T11:28:00.001-04:00

Please don't judge me. I am stressed.

2010-03-10T19:27:00.002-05:00

My dear sweet precious angel,

Your question still echoes in my ear as I sit on this flight – without wireless and no way to work. Maybe its destiny so I can write you. And answer you. At least better than I did this morning.

Momma? Why do you work so hard?

I don’t know where to begin. I can lie – and say it is for your own good. That I do it for you. So you can have a better life. Have more. Do more. Experience more. But it’s not true. That is not why I work. Not at all. It is not for you. Nor is it for me.

Honestly, I do not think you need more in life. I do not think you need to experience more. I think we have enough. It’s not for us.

It’s for others.

I work for others. I believe in what I do. Sweetie? At the end of this life I hope you get one thing from me. I hope that you see that one person can make a difference. Even if it is only in the life of one other person. And even if it is only for a minute or an hour – YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE. Never should you stop seeing people. Never. And know that even in that one minute – that one act of kindness -- you can transform a life. Do you hear me? Transform a life. A life.

Honey, life is not full of opportunities for everyone. Not at all. You never know what is behind the curtain of others. No need to go there. No need to pry. But there is a need in this world to accept. And love. And help. And care. And sacrifice. And give. GIVE. Give with your heart. Always. See people for their potential not for their present.

Every morning I look at you before you leave and I tell you two things – to work hard and treat people right. I believe that if your are passionate about these two things; everything else will fall into place. Honey? Life ain’t been no crystal stairs for me. I got lucky. I got lucky in so many ways. And luck just ain’t fair. It’s not enough. I want more than luck for others. I want opportunity. I want compassion. I want people to know that they are worth it. They matter.

They have someone that will stand up to make sure they are noticed. I want them to understand that where they are born does not determine their destiny. That their past will not put a lid on their future. I want them to dream. I want them to aspire for more. I want to hear them, when no one else will listen and the world silences their imagination, I want to stop and listen. Intently. And let them know I believe they can. Cause at the end of the day – life is about them…not me.

I go to work every day and work so hard because I believe my efforts make a difference to others. I believe that because of the work I do, there are people – people with names….and families…and dreams….people that will get to experience college and an education that they never dreamed the could – because I fought for them. Because I said YES THEY DO DESERVE A CHANCE! Maybe someone else would have done that for them. Maybe no one would notice if I stayed at home. But darling? I would notice. And eventually, so would you.

You have so much in front of you. You will never question an education. You will never question opportunity. You will never question love. What I hope you do question one day is bigotry. And biases. And injustices. And hatred. I hope you look back and say, “My momma woulda never let this happen. And nor will I.”

People are ALWAYS worth the fight. Always. And if I am not there tonight to tuck you in, know that my love is more than enough to cross rivers and states and boundaries and time zones. My thoughts and passion for you can never be stopped by location. I am there. And I love you so much that I care enough to show you how important your influence can be. I care enough to give you an example of what life is all about. Sweetie, life is about others. Fight for them. Care for them. Love them. And if you ever question why I am gone … know that I have so much love in my heart for you, so much passion for people, so much of a desire to see equity that I will not stop. And when I must – when I just can’t take another breath for others – I can rest at ease knowing that my heart has woven itself into yours. And now you will carry on that love…that passion…that fight – and you will write to your daughter one day the words that I hope my life sings…Others.

I love you my child. Never forget that. Never forget that one act of love – one moment of kindness can transcend years of hatred and lies. Don’t wait for the moment to find you – go out and find your moment. When you are faced with an opportunity, never make a list. The cons will always outweigh the pros. Fight the temptation of logic. Logical people never changed this world. When you are faced with opportunity, ask one question – Will this make a difference in the life of another? If you answer yes, there is no more thought needed. People are worth it. Always.

I am so glad you said yes to being my daughter. You inspire me. I love you my child.

Momma

The Dare Devil and Bubble Boy

2010-03-07T20:05:00.000-05:00

As a working mom I always fear I will miss the big milestones in my offspring's lives. Like their first step, or their first word, or their first time to use glitter without prompting. You know. The really really big time, important stuff.

I have feared missing Middle Twerp learning to ride a bike. So I created a new rule - no bike riding unless I as present. It all was going fine until I the injustice of my rule spread throughout the neighborhood -- then the warriors wanted to come talk to Chief Country Girl.

The planned and strategized. I was putty in their hands. So I cried UNCLE UNCLE- Let the bike riding commence. And lo and behold - it happened. Right before my eyes --

My first born son was riding a bike. I heard Sunrise, Sunset play in the background and I started to get misty eyed and then.... Oh Lord. This was all because he was trying to pop a wheelie.

A wheelie? Seriously?

Okay. No more of these shenanigans. Stay serious and in control.

Ah -- watch out...... Why did I birth from my womb a dare devil that has no fear? Where does he get this from? Heavens to Betsy. Where is Baby Twerp?
Baby Twerp? What are you doing?

You saw MT crash and burn? And now there ain't no way, no how....

He was also looking for some bubble wrap to seal the deal and all.

But I think we will be okay until the training wheels come off. Bless his Bubble Boy Little Heart.

SOLD to the Lady In the Second Row

2010-03-04T07:11:00.000-05:00

Monday morning was like a WWF Smackdown at the Plantation. Everything was in chaos and I was beginning to doubt my parenting skills. Nonetheless my Mother of the Year award.

No one could find their toothbrushes. Then we found them, -- (brace yourself) -- in the toilet. Then we were out of toilet paper. Then all underwear and socks had magically disappeared.

I just looked up to the heavens and cried out, "God of Wonders Beyond Our Galaxy? Please send some apple trees and honey bees and snow white turtle doves. I need peace and harmony in this land."

Then I laid the law down to my heathen spawn who were runnin around like a chicken with its head cut off. I said -- DO NOT COME BACK DOWNSTAIRS UNTIL YOU ARE COMPLETELY DRESSED AND READY. Or I will spend your college fund on shoes and lipgloss. Amen.

Then Baby Twerp arrives all dress and precious and...and....Uhm, What socks are you wearing? What do you mean it is all that is clean? It was useless at this point...The wrestling was back on. I cut my losses and thought a little pink never hurt anyone. Right? I am still a domesticated goddess, right? Hello? Then this one came bounding down the stairs. To which I stated, "Lord have mercy, that shirt looks like you slept in it. We need to take an iron to it."

Her response, "WE HAVE AN IRON?" "Funny, I have never seen you use it."

They are all up for adoption.

Disclaimer: They come with mismatched socks, unbrushed teeth, and wrinkly clothes.

Coach Country Girl

2010-02-26T08:35:00.006-05:00

MmmKay. So I signed the boy twerps up to play flag football starting every Saturday in March. Why? Cause I am bored and do not have enough on my plate. Historically, I am opposed to outdoor sports. I do not like the variable of weather - which inevitably leads to me either sweating (which is against my religion so you basically can't make me do it) or obtaining frizzy hair due to rain (which is against your religion so I can't do that either). As you can see, it is quite the predicament.

So I make my spawn play indoor sports to enhance my ease and level of comfort. It's just the kind of mom I am. Love and accept my faults.

Anyhoo, in a moment of insane CRAZINESS and possessed by sport demons, I must have checked the box to be a coach. A football coach. For boys. On a team.

Begin the prayer and fasting.

So when I got the below email that began like this....

Hi Coach's,

Just a friendly reminder about the Coaches meeting that is
scheduled for this Sunday, Feb. 28th @ 1:30pm.

The details for the meeting are below.

Please reply to this email to confirm 2 things:
1. Will you be attending the meeting?
2. What t-shirt size will you need?
Thanks and see you Sunday!

I passed out.

When I came to I pulled myself together. I mean seriously, HOW HARD CAN IT BE? They are 4 and 5 year olds! I can teach them what I know -- which is this...

One kid puts the ball between his legs and throws it to the Quarter back (please notice the correct name I gave this kid. I will save this for practice #3. It is more advanced)
The Quarter Back then throws the ball to another kid way down close to the in zone (again, football vocab abounds within me)
That kid should catch it
And run
Cross the line and we get points
As a bonus someone can kick a field goal (for 3 more points) Maybe?

Defense -- stop them from doing the above. Amen.

Okay, I feel better. I think I have it all under control. Then I read on...

I have attached a few documents for your review. You will find our coaching standards and rules. We want your experience with us to be as rewarding for you as it is for our players, so just relax and let's have some fun. (HOW SWEET. I love this person already!)

I have listed your name below and the division you are setup to coach. (I am in the Beginner Section. I am feeling better already)

Please reply to this e-mail and let me know if you would like to co-assist with another parent and I will collect your birth date and shirt size. (That seems a little personal. And can I have a baby doll tee? Preferably Pink. I can bedazzle it myself.)

You will then be ready for the coach's exam. (PUMP THE BREAKS. Insert me passing out once more.)

You are now ready to take the Coaches Exam. If you have already taken the exam from a prior season, you do not have to take it again. You are already certified. -Please go to the following link. There will be no retests.

If I send you the link can we take it together? Can I just say I made a mistake? Can I join the National Guard and get deployed? They have to legally let me out of my obligation. HAVE YOU SEEN FOOTBALL DADS? They are serious? VERY SERIOUS! Maybe I can start a cheerleading group for the team. OR I CAN BE THE CHEERLEADING GROUP! Yes, THAT IS WHAT I WILL DO. I will be the cheerleading coach. I will say I thought the box was for a 4 and 5 year old coach to CHEER! I already have my pom poms and boom box. Are you ready for this? Dunt Dunt Dunt Dunt Dunt Dunt Dunt. JAZZ HANDS.

Stay tuned.....

My Thighs are Possessed By Donna Summer

2010-02-20T20:02:00.003-05:00

My momma and Aunt B came out to visit me in the Deep South. To eat grits and drink sweet tea and hug and kiss.

I come from a family of huggers and kissers. IJ thinks it weird. He wants kisses? He wants hugs? HE CAN'T HANDLE THE KISSES! HE CAN'T HANDLE THE HUGS!

Sorry - I digress.

But my beautiful cousin met me, my momma, Aunt B, and ET in the city and we went had some giggle and laughs and someone mighta wet her pants she laughed so hard. But I ain't gonna call her out. Cause that might embarrass me. And what would one expect after all that taste testin. Lordy Be. Anyhoo -- use Southern Girls met up with our Southern Boys for some important stuff. Hot. Fudge. Sundaes. That. Make. My. Thighs. Sing. Forth. In. Glory. This particular day, they sang out some Donna Summer. They looked over at IJ and said...Oh I need you, by me. Beside me, to guide me. To hold me, to scold me. Cause when I'm bad...

And it was like magic -- in unison the whole restaurant began to dance to my thighs. Oh my my my.My spawn can't take me anywhere.My thighs just have no self discipline.

I Can't Even Type It Into the Title. That's How Much It Makes My Hiney Clinch

2010-02-18T17:04:00.000-05:00

I love words. MmmKay. That is a gross understatement. I big pink fuzz heart with glitter love words. With a cherry on top.

It is also ironic. Cause I never use words correctly. Like I don't follow the rules or use them in the right context. But I never have been one to fit the mold. Unless its a Jello mold. Then we can negotiate cause I love orange Jello. Amen.

Anyhoo, in real important meetings at work with really smart people I sometimes make up words. And think they might not notice. I don't really like to label them as "made up words," but I challenge us to think of them as words not yet discovered. I am a birther of words. I have word spawn. And the stretch marks to prove it. Amen.

Or sometimes I combine words to give the facade that I am smart and hip and cool and they are all dorks for not knowing about the words. I like to think I am increasing their vocabulary. It's like I use both slang and language. I speak slanguage. Hick slanguage. I also speak Pig Latin. It's nice to be bilingual. Oh, you only speak Mandarin Chinese? Yeah, I eat their oranges. Daily. Try to contain your jealousy. Don't hate, apprecaite.

One of my finer moments was when I mixed up the words reGard and reTard. Minor error.

And most recently, I said "She doesn't need your condensation." Instead of condescension. Details Schmetails. I think both could be true. Think about what the humidity does to your hair. I was trying to look out for her at all angles. Or is it angels?

But there is one word on the English language that makes my hiney clinch and my toes curl. I can't stand it. I hate to be do persnickety about it. But its just true dadgummit.

Now I am a lover not a fighter and I love and embrace all, but if one thing could bring me to disdain, its this word aversion. Just sayin it makes me feel awkward and I begin to dry heave.

Moist.

{excuse me, I need a moment}

This word is good for nothing. Except cake. And please don't ruin my moment of intimate love while eating cake by using this satanic adjective to depict it. Please just call it "My thighs sing forth in glory." I think we all can agree this is true.

Now this word seems to be poppin up everywhere Moist Towelette. Seriously? I just picture a damp breeding ground for mold growth. I can literally see the bacteria doubling. Moist. Yug.

But now serendipitous. Ohhhh...that word makes my skirt fly up. And giggle and smithereens and tickle and glitter and snort. Now those are words a girl can live by.

But moist?!?! I beseech you dear brethren - turn, repent, for the kingdom in near!

Please Dear Lord let that word be no more forever. Amen.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2010-02-18T03:40:00.002-05:00

Happy Birthday to someone sweeter than Tupelo Honey. Sure his birthday is gone, but I am missing him and wanted to take a look at how adorable he is.

But I also wanted us to observe Baby Twerp over the next few picture.

Anytime food gets around this child he is plotting and planning.

Sneaky little sucker, isnt he? And then let's take a look at Middle Twerp. And his expression anytime presents are around.

I think it is very evident which one takes after his momma. Thats all I am sayin, Amen.

A Southern Snowman

2010-02-15T16:42:00.000-05:00

We rarely are graced with the presence of this white miracle here in the South, so we take every advantage we can before it and its magic melts away. Yesterday, while Eldest Twerp was spending the night at a friend's house I looked at Middle and Baby Twerp and asked, "Ya'll wanna make a snowman?"They looked at me with their "What you talkin about Willis?" eyes.

Then I realize -- these poor sheltered Southern children have no clue how to build a snowman. What kind of unfit mother is raisin them? Lord have mercy!

So I begin my passing of the snowman legacy to my spawn.

Only to soon realize I have no clue what I am doing either! And soon my thighs are burnin and I am (please brace yourself) SWEATIN!!!!

I had to take a moment.
We decorated our snowman with candy and scarves and hats and Dr Pepper lipgloss. Cause any respectable southern girl would never leave the house without her lipgloss. At this point and time the boys start checkin out the work. And soon I realized I did not pass inspections. They were NOT impressed with my work. Since I was proud as a peacock with my stunning gal, I MADE them pose for a photo moment. You can see how serious they took this moment. MT was so embarrassed with the shoddy artsmanship he had to leave the premises. And as soon as I walked away they turned all boy on me....

Macho Randy Savage possess my spawn at the most inopportune moments.
Have I mentioned I wanted girls?