Woman Interrupted

More Common Sense Advice from the Peanut Gallery

2010-07-24T21:33:00.007-05:00

If you think its a good idea to drive to the Galleria with your whole family on a Saturday afternoon so you can eat at the Cheesecake Factory, just stick needles under your fingernails and wiggle them around instead.

It is so much fun trying to create diversions for two whining hungry children for an hour while you marvel at your optimism and wonder, "How did we both agree to this madness?"

That'll be our Galleria experience for the next five years.

What was the last thing you can't believe you paid for?

Just like that, I've been Ousted

2010-06-17T17:00:00.000-05:00

My son came home from Vacation Bible School today and informed me that the Angel of the Lord, named Summer, is the most beautiful girl ever.

"Even beautifuler than you, Mom."
"Really? You mean Summer, the girl in your class?"
"No, Mom. I'm talking about Summer, the Angel of the Lord."
"oh..."
"And iCarly. She's beautifuler, too."

***My little Romeo will be five years old [silent scream] in less than a month.

Updates

2010-05-17T14:12:00.004-05:00

In case you were wondering, I'm not thinking about selling cars.

My last post was written on a day when we were in the midst of car shopping and I had just had enough of the sleazy run around. I actually felt sorry for car salesman in general at that point thinking about the base tactics those guys have to engage in day in and day out. In the end, MMA handled it beautifully and it all worked out.

My brother and sister-in-law are safe. She's already back in the US and I owe her a good home-cooked meal very, very soon. I also need to know the latest on my brother's plans and when he's coming home.

I'm not a vegetarian and I doubt I ever will be. I just like meat so darn much. Darn it.

The sleep is good.

Baby Brother seems to slowly be weaning himself. In any case, when that first tooth pops out, its over.

Decluttering has stalled out a bit. I need a reason to jump start again. I should throw a party.

More news to come, just not right now.

And, thank you, new comers to my blog. I feel a little guilty for not showing much B-love lately (that's blog love...not what every else you might have been thinking.)

Random thought: when is Young House Love going to pop? I mean, "WOW!" She's all baby! I know the desperation of that "almost there" time. Hang in there all you almost-there-moms-to-be...Heather, that's you!

Ten Things I'd rather do than Sell Cars for a Living

2010-04-26T15:46:00.004-05:00

Pick the gunk out from underneath the toe nails of perfect strangers

Work the 4 am bathroom clean up crew at House of Pies

Work at the MAC counter (just making sure you're listening...)

Sell just about anything else

Work the fry side (or the grill side) at Denny's

"Beeeeeer and PEEEE'nuts!"

Survey-taker at the mall

Road kill disposal crew

Carnie

Nose hair groomer

On the Other Side of the World, Right Now...

2010-04-09T11:24:00.005-05:00

As many of you know, my brother Lee and his wife Shawn are serving in the Peace Corp in Kyrgyzstan.

Earlier this week there was a violent uprising over government corruption spurred by a 200% increase in the cost of fuel (as I understand the situation.) There was rioting in the streets and many people were injured, some killed.

And just like that, the old government is out and a new regime has taken over.

Lee and Shawn have been evacuated by the PC and are safe but they've been asked not to disclose their location and they currently have no internet access. Our family is praying that they stay safe. But for now, we have no idea what this means for the remaining few months of their two year commitment.

You may never have heard of this little country that borders China and Russian. But I expect we'll all be hearing more about it, because it houses an American military base where our troops and supplies converge en route to Afghanistan.

It goes without saying that taking on a volunteer assignment in that part of the world is inherently risky. Particularly for Americans?

Please say a quick prayer for Lee and Shawn and their colleagues. I know they would also appreciate us thinking, too, about the friends they've made in the Krgyz locals and what this will mean for their future.

Have you Ever...

2010-03-31T22:52:00.004-05:00

Had one of those days where you went to the store specifically to buy something, but then your kids turned your trip into a complete circus and you forgot everything that you intended to buy?

Then suddenly its the night before your kid's Easter party at school and you have no candy. So you have to raid your pantry to find something to stuff in the 16 eggs that you must send to school, perfectly sharpied with the classmates' names on the outside. (All the while thankful for a good neighbor who just happened to have extra eggs.)

So at 11 o'clock you're cursing the size of those diminutive standard drugstore eggs and wracking your brain to think, "what will fit?"

So you pull out all the gummies and fruit snacks you can scrounge but you have to prick a tiny hole in each bag and squish the air out to make it work. And you marvel at your own ingenuity under pressure.

Then your son gets home with his 16 eggs and you can't help but peek at the booty you'll soon be getting your hands on. And you feel some sisterly connection to the mom who put silver wrapped gum and spare change in her kid's eggs.

Ever had one of those days?

Freecycle 2 U, My Funky Junky Sista

2010-03-03T22:38:00.005-06:00

MMA is starting to notice all the bare spots where stuff used to live.

But has my spring cleaning gone too far?

I had this old sumpin' or other laying around my house that was a gift that I loved and enjoyed for years. Then it sat in a cabinet collecting dust. I never had the heart to get rid of it. So I loaded it in the car today and dropped it off on my SIL's front porch. When she was suppose to be at work.

Hee Hee.

I figured she'd find it and wonder about the secret benefactor that knows her tastes so well. Warm fuzzies. (Or call me and say, "what the hell?")

In truth, I really thought she would appreciate the little re-gift because the colors compliment her lovely house.

Well, before I could even pull off the street she was pouncing my cell phone to ask "What the drive-by do you think you're doing?"

We had a little laugh before she affirmed what I already know...we're just two junkaholics trying to stay clean and take it one day at a time. The last thing she needs is me offering her my knick knacks, much less dropping them off.

I promised to pick it up on Sunday.

Maybe she'll change her mind.

More confessions from the Closet

2010-02-26T23:45:00.001-06:00

Literally, I'm the girl with junk in the trunk [of my automobile...right this minute.]

There's an old telephone, a flip flop (just the one) and various magazines, plus other stuff that looks like trash to everyone but me.

What you need to know about my issue, people like me, the Cluttery among us, WE are a little schizo.

Rational me knows I'm not right . Irrational me wants to hang on to that flip flop just a little longer because the other one might just show up. Rational me says, "So what! Throw it away and be done with it. You have other flip flops WITH MATES." Irrational me says, "One more year. Just one more year."

So you see what I'm dealing with? They don't make medicine for this. Not that I'm aware of.

So, cold turkey, I have been getting rid of things that are not enriching my life. Its like a little game: What will I throw away today? Usually it feels empowering, but not always.

Do you know how hard it is for me to put an old blue Tiffany box in the trash and walk away? Did you ever see that scene from Sex in the City where Miranda puts the cake in the trash and then goes back to eat a bite?

This is the year I lose my pack rat, thing. That's why I'm putting it out there. Accountability, baby. So when you see me you will (however uncomfortable it may be) ask me, "How's your clutter today?"

I have an idea for a reality show in the same vein as the Biggest Loser. Because I get why a morbidly obese person would go on TV in the most unforgiving spandex and bare it all for help.

Here's the premise: Your husband/partner signs you up. Producers come to your house and verify that you do have a clutter issue. They take video of your deepest darkest closets, under your beds, they count how many junk drawers you have. They record your house at its worst. Then they send over an organization expert to get you in shape. They outfit you with the latest Stacks and Stacks technology. Unified hangers in every closet. No socks unturned.

Then, they lie in wait. They can and will come back unannounced at any time. It could be 2 months later or it could be 2 years later, but you never know when it will be. You keep your crap in order because you live in fear.

If your house is a wreck when they come, you get stuck for the extreme makeover bill and they show the clutter cam on prime time. But if your house is organized and clutter-free, you get to keep all the stuff AND you get a fabulous vacation to somewhere off the charts. I'm still working on the pitch...but getting my house in shape is really prize enough (and I can't do that on my own, WHY?)

I should publish a picture of my dining room table to prove my candidacy. But then I'd feel so naked.

And, in random news that made me laugh this week, I spied a guy driving around in a blue Dodge Caravan with a "Tap Out" sticker on the back.

P.S. Good luck to MMA who's doing the Conoco Phillips 10K Rodeo Run tomorrow. He hasn't been able to train as much as he would have liked because life gets in the way. We would love him even if he hobbled across the finish line, but he won't. He'll charge through like a warrior.

Who me? Junkie?

2010-02-17T10:42:00.005-06:00

Decluttering Chronicles: Step I - Declaration

I'll never live in a model home for the same reason I will never be a swimsuit model.

Well, besides that.

Details, Details.

I keep things flexible and clean my house a-r-o-u-n-d whatever else is going on in life. Sometimes I ask Big Brother,

"Hey, what do you want to do today? Anything you want, we'll do it."

Because his preschool days are numbered AND because avoiding chores around the house is so naughty in the SAHM world.

My avoidance hit a high note last year when I was pregnant enough to really sell it. And the resulting chaos in my home is proof of how good I've gotten. (Or bad, if you want to be a glass half-empty kind of person.) I looked around last month after the Christmas stuff had been put up and things still seemed cluttered, unorganized, JUNKIE. My stuff has reached critical mass.

I started by giving things away. Little things at first. One big thing. Things on Freecycle. I cleaned out my husbands side of the closet to avoid working on my side. I fell off the wagon, but I'm back.

And there's this one thing, a purse, that's a metaphor for my "stuff problem." I know I will love myself more when I get rid of that dusty Coach purse I haven't used in ten years. It's cluttering up my life, err, uh, my closet. I've shaken it off a half dozen times over the years and thought,

"I really need to let this go." Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. "I wonder if my sister will want this?"

Junkers, you see, always want to keep "it" close. Its not familial generosity. Its actually a selfish security thing -- in case somewhere down the line I have a crazy urge to spend some time with my lovely old purse and hold it close once more. Not use it as a purse, but just know its there if I wanted to see it again.

We'll call that phenomenon charitable storage and if you love me you'd never, EVER, let me get away with it! That's called enabling.

Maybe you understand me because you have pile somewhere... A little something in a closet you pretend to forget about or excuse yourself for on a sentimental basis... Maybe its a whole closet when you only have four in your whole house... No? Oh, that's called projecting.

I like my stuff, but I'm not one of those crazy hoarding people that that you see on TV and think,

"My God! She looks so normal."

They should make a made for TV movie about those freaks. No, I just collect, recreationally. Years ago, MMA set down a rule that if I bought a pair of shoes, another pair had to go. I've kept up my side of the bargain on the easily quantifiable. But girls have their ways of getting around silly roadblocks. And we had a smaller house then.

That doesn't sound like justifying AT ALL.

To Meat or Not to Meat

2010-01-29T23:08:00.002-06:00

These biological urges are the real deal. First, we decided it was time to start going to church exactly a year before I got pregnant with my oldest son. Now we've hit our mid-thirties and the clock says, "time to take a serious look at what we're putting in our bodies."

MMA and I are curiously in tandem, again. We've both been feeling ambivalent towards meat. (We've also broached our high fructose corn syrup and MSG problems, but that's for another day.) I don't think this is an accident. I think there is a greater force at work, a beacon of light that's even brighter than the fast food neon.

If you'd asked me a few weeks ago where I was in my vegetarian walk (because none of us are getting any younger) I would have said, "I haven't laced up my shoes." I love me some Texas BBQ, bacon nineteen different ways, elaborate burgers that fall apart and drip down your hands...I could go on Liz Lemon-like about our meat fetish. Didn't I list bacon bits IN THIS VERY BLOG as one of my favorite things?

Well. All of the sudden, meat is starting to gross me out even while I'm enjoying it for dinner. MMA, too!?!

What has gotten into us?

My 4 year old just realized that the "chicken" that we eat almost daily was once an animal just like the chickens at the zoo. And thanks to Chick fil A's brilliant marketing, he has worked it out in his little head that a hamburger was once a cow. And he's got a healthy pensiveness about it.

I, myself, made a conscious decision years ago to put that inconvenient truth out of my head and just enjoy steak night with a little garlic butter and beer. I do my best not to waste meat, you see, and so I feel better about eating the flesh of another animal.

Thanks to MMA, we stopped eating most bone-in meats because he found it unseemly. I never understood that until now because everyone knows that meat cooked on the bone tastes so much better. But, its a little harder to deny what you're eating when a bone makes your dinner an identifiable body part.

And by that token, it is so easy to reconcile the standard frozen chicken tender in your head. It's just a preformed meat-like substance supped up with hormones, saline solution and encrusted in God-only-knows-what to make it pleasantly palatable. I mean, did an actual chicken have to die?

It's virtual chicken. My marketing guy is already working on the T-shirts.

I'm no tree hugger. I'm not even an animal hugger. There, I said it. I don't even like live animals that much. I will not be carrying a PETA card or trading in my leather shoes anytime soon. But it cannot be coincidence that I have been bombarded with such disgusting meat imagery lately. To the point that I must reconsider my diet of probably thirty percent meat. (Don't judge.)

Exhibit A) There is a ziplock bag of turkey left over from Christmas in my fridge. I meant to spin it into some kind of casserole and never did and now I feel too guilty to throw it away. I wish an elf would magically take this problem off my hands. (MMA will not make it easy and throw it away because he told me not to make a whole turkey in the first place.)

Exhibit B) I got the pink slime email...did you? Regardless of what I should have known and/or chose to believe before reading the NY Times article, I now know too much. I heard somewhere that a typical fast food hamburger was literally made from the meat of hundreds if not thousands of cows. I can now fathom how this is possible.

Exhibit C) I also saw the show discussed here about a guy eating roadkill. BY CHOICE. My eyes were tearing up as a precursor to dry heaving before he even loaded the carrion into his car. By the time he served up his badger head and seagull stew, I was asking myself what starvation scenario would it take?

Urp coming on.

Since I'm not really motivated by environmental or moral considerations this must be the weakest embargo ever:

Meat is gross (right now.)

Awww, Schucks

2010-01-22T00:11:00.005-06:00

The New Normal

2010-01-21T11:00:00.001-06:00

I've missed you all, bloggers. I occasionally log on to catch up with what is going on in your lives. But until I can catch a real night's sleep, I can't justify much computer time.

Plus, its so much fun to play with my new baby. I remember Picky saying after her first baby was born that she loved everything about being a mom. Even the feeding and diaper changing. Admittedly, its all work, but its like the Peace Corp...the hardest job you'll ever love. I'll have to compare notes when my little brother gets back from his Peace Corp assignment in Kyrgyzstan (and then has a child.)

MMA has been insistent that I give my loyal mo fos an update.

Things are good.

Big Brother is adjusting, but its a process. He so wants to be both the big boy I need him to be and also my baby. He pretends to be a baby in the safety of our home but he is clear, this game is for our eyes only.

Today we wrote a story about a boy who gets a new baby brother; I wrote as he narrated. To paraphrase, the character in our story loves his baby brother, but gets grumpy and sometimes acts naughty because of all the changes in his family. Our little activity helped us both, I think. I'm reminded how much Big Brother loves me. Almost daily he tells me he is going to marry me when he grows up. I could just cry...can I bottle that stuff up?

Baby Brother is plumping up nicely. I love every fat roll on his little body. He's got those tight baby wrists where his hand meets his chunky arm. 'Love those wrists. So many kissable places, so little time.

He's also starting to follow me with his eyes. Sometimes I'll see him looking at me from across the room. When I turn my attention on him he just lights up!

We achieved a goal that I am very proud of, breastfeeding success. We did it! Around the three month mark, I realized, "Hey, we've got the hang of this" (more or less.) I don't know why this one deed is so tantamount to my feelings of adequacy as a mother, but it is. And I was not about to allow it to elude me this time.

I well know...we're not suppose to beat ourselves up about these things, but we all do. If it's not breastfeeding, its the "working mom guilt" or something else. This is not a new subject for me.

I think part of the problem is life zipping by. I'm still trying to juggle everything I used to do before and care for a baby. I keep telling myself, "I will do this" or "I will do that" when life gets back to normal. As if I could make a new little person, with his own agenda, quietly fit in to who we were as a family before he emerged.

Suddenly, it dawned on me, this is my life now. Baby brother changed us, and this is normal. Life just got busier and I need to make difficult choices about how I spend my time. Get in shape, so to speak. Whine less. Eliminate clutter in every form.

Superstar has no resolutions this year! Just a promise to myself to blow lots of raspberries on a soft round tummy and play trains for at least a few minutes every day with full enthusiasm. And to stop worrying about things that don't involve God and family.

Peace out.

(Pictures to come)

HOUSTON: We have sleep

2009-12-07T20:13:00.002-06:00

I am happy to report that things are coming together in Infantland. Little Bro is becoming quite a team player.

We are easily up to four hour stretches of sleep at night and we enjoyed a fluke last Friday. It snowed in Houston and the baby slept through the night for the first time. Just once, but an early Christmas gift all the same. A gift of hope.

I'm starting to feel human again. And I'm rested enough to enjoy delightful moments with a precious baby. Is there anything more sweet in the world than those first few smiles and soft coos or the way they crumble in your arms and fall asleep? Entirely trusting.

Big Brother is so protective and loving. I am getting to know a whole new side of him, as well. This is going to be my best Christmas ever. I'm looking forward to it as if I was the four year old.

As life settles back into place, I'm missing my blogging. My computer got an STD so I haven't been able to log on in weeks. I had to borrow my brother's laptop to get my "fix." It took a day to go through emails. Maybe I'll get to do a real post this week. My hands are shaking, this feels so good.

The end of Superstar as we know Her

2009-11-08T14:44:00.005-06:00

These last six weeks have been busy to say the least.

My beautiful baby is a monster between the hours of 3 am and daylight. His longest stretch of sleep is 2 hours but from 3-7 am he's been waking up hourly. Its enough to break the strongest of wills, which means MMA and I are crumbling like cornbread.

Seriously, sleep fragmentation is our Kryptonite.

I'm ready to give him cereal to "hold him over." But the studies say that it doesn't really help them sleep longer. It has to do with neurological development. What do you parents out there think? Should I spike the milk with a little sumpin-sumpin? I'm desperate. The bags under my eyes are the real thing.

In other news, my beloved Jeep is in the dog house. I loved it, but I'm ready to leave it. A few months ago, it still looked good to me, but with a new baby in the picture, I see it in a whole new light. I don't have time to deal with the kinks and rumbles of an aging car. On Friday I had to pile car seats and babies into a two door sports car because I didn't like the noise the Jeep was making. I'm done with it.

We spent Saturday car shopping. Yuck!

Superstar was not ready to admit that the practicality of a mini van supersedes her self image as a woman with a cooler ride. "BUT, from the inside of a minivan, looking out, they are sweet!" she keeps telling herself.

I'm probably going to be driving a minivan soon. I can't wrap my mind around that. My mojo just went out the window of Caravan, or an Odyssey. Or a Town and Country.

Halloween Decorating

2009-10-20T14:45:00.001-05:00

Little Bro gets his first sponge bath.
(Don't you love the smell of baby wash?)

There's no rest for the weary these days. All I have time for is feeding and pumping...every two hours, like clockwork. (And lactating is not my idea of a good time.)

A friend had planned to bring us a meal yesterday, so I finally got dressed and pulled my hair into a ponytail around 5 pm, (if you can call slipping into a jogging a suit and never changing out of the tank top I wore to bed "getting dressed.")

I've lowered my already loose standards of personal grooming. I'll try to do something about my hair before Wednesday. Wait, what day is it?

Maybe I'll be a witch for Halloween. That wouldn't take too much imagination or effort. My other option is to be a dairy cow.

I thought I'd share some pictures since we managed to get into a seasonal mood. Cute huh?

And the pièce de résistance...

That cute little onesie was a gift from Picky. It looked so big three weeks ago when we brought him home from the hospital. And now it fits. Did I mention he eats non-stop?

If you want to see what Little Bro's nursery looks like, check out Girly Stuff. She was kind enough to help pull it all together and then post pictures, too! (You can't see the detail on the curtains from the pictures, but they are the cutest...cream and khaki houndstooth print fabric.) We still have to hang something great over the crib and maybe bring in a rug, but we have time since he won't be sleeping in there for a few months.

I'll post again before Christmas!

Meet the Fockers

2009-10-05T11:45:00.001-05:00

The New and Improved Family

Introducing,

Baby Nicholas!

Born Monday, September 28th
9:31 AM (translation: all-nighter)
20 1/2 inches
7 lbs 12 ozs

I knew he was big compared to my first, who weighed in at 6 1/2 pounds. All ten fingers and toes are right where they should be and he is sweet and charming. So far, Nicholas is not fussy unless he's wet and then its mayhem. Well, we all have our peeves. I think he's going to resemble me (holding my breath.)

You know the best thing about being one week out from having had a baby? You know, besides the cuddling and bonding and drinking in all of that sweet baby smell... I feel like a supermodel compared to where I was just seven days ago! I keep pulling out my regular clothes thinking they're gonna fit...they don't...yet. In fact, I feel good enough to pop out a couple more babies if we can swing a night nanny.

The one formerly know as Only Child is doing great. (Any suggestions for a new moniker?) He's been excited and giggly at all the baby's antics. He's not the huge helper I'd hoped for, mostly because he's too lazy to fetch me a diaper if he's watching TV or otherwise engrossed. But he's definitely sweet on his little brother and he's good at checking up on the baby and reporting back to mommy. We also made him the the hand-washing police when company comes over and he takes that responsibility very seriously. Now if I could just get him to stop talking about my nipples to our visitors...

My husband went back to work today and we were both a little sad about that, but I know we'll manage. If you had asked me what we needed, I would have said nothing. We have every gadget, bouncer and baby holder made. But people keep giving us little things that prove me wrong: a big box of diapers that I won't have to lug home from the store, a plate of home made tamales that meant we didn't have to cook or clean up, new wash cloths and the tiniest socks that fit right now...a saved trip!

We sure have appreciated all the thoughtfulness and love! It makes a sweet and wonderful time that much more special.

God is good! (But time is short.)

LATE: an update

2009-09-27T01:41:00.001-05:00

It's so much fun being in your last month of pregnancy that I thought I'd extend my delicate state for a while. Yes, that's right, my due date came and went, but the enormity of the situation has not really sunk in yet.

I'm still growing and stretching as a person and I thought it would be fun to grow just a little more before I get so tied up. The little guy is apparently very shy. Besides, the purple character lines on my stomach are so becoming. And, they double as a racetrack for my four year old to play hot wheels on while Mommy's passed out from exhaustion during his nap time.

Since I have so much time on my hands to think (because, if you can't clear your schedule for when you think a new baby is coming, then when, right?) So as I was saying, between hormonal breakdowns and cramping, I've been planning my bathroom remodel. I've been doing lots of research during Toilet Tour 2009. That's what I like to call it because each of my bathrooms gets equal love right now. (If I'm walking by, I might as well.)

Who knew I'd get this extra time for myself? I finished another book. A big one, maybe you've heard of "What to Expect When You're Expecting"...its sort of a cult classic.

And since I'm beyond pregnant, I am liberated about what I should and should not be eating. "Yes," to two-fisting sour cream and onion Lays and Milano's. "No," to prenatal vitamins. I am post natal, but for a technicality, so I graduated to Flintstones. They taste better and I don't want to end up on the cover of the Examiner, or whatever, with the next 19lb baby. Can I get an Amen?

Wouldn't it be funny if I pull the "Using the whole fist doc?" and "Mooooon Riiiver?" thing from Fletch the next time I get checked for dilation? Note to all of you that might one day have a baby: forget where they went to school, chose the Ob-Gyn with the smallest hands. You'll thank me someday.

Women really are the stronger sex. If a man takes a little kick or punch to the jewels, he's ruined for days. But women can walk around with a person punching and kicking her and literally pushing her innards, out. (My crotch hurts, but you don't see me pale on the floor.) That is to say nothing of the torment and havoc of birthing the thing... Which women have the capacity to do AND to love the little bugger with all her heart after he's defiled and left stretch marks all over what God made so beautiful. It's a mental strength; we slip into Navy Seal mode or something. I don't even remember much about the labor and delivery of my first child, just that I knew I could endure anything for the sake of a healthy baby. And I chose to do this again? I amaze myself, really.

As I was saying. I have way too much time on my hands with no where to go.

But out.

Nobody puts Baby in a Corner

2009-09-14T22:16:00.007-05:00

Don't cry because it's over.

Smile because it happened.

Good-bye to the one and only Johnny Castle. AKA Patrick Swayze.

Those hips, that movie... Was there a middle-school girl in 1987 who DIDN'T want to dance with him? I never got to reprise Baby's "Time of My Life" number with him!

He was my favorite metrosexual...before there was even a word for it!

And then, when he came out strutting on SNL and made fun of himself alongside the late, great Chris Farley...that was just endearing!

Who could forget this memorable skit?

Let's talk about Kanye.

If only his cojones were as big as his head!? Honestly! Stealing a little girl's spotlight? He wouldn't have pulled that on Lil' Kim. I'm just saying...she woulda.cut.him for that! (And don't cry about it after the fact, wussy.)

Did you catch the lovely date he brought to the what-ever awards?

(No baby yet. Trying to keep myself amused so I don't count the seconds...)

Thank Heaven for Little Boys

2009-09-04T18:35:00.006-05:00

My sister Blanche just sent me the sweetest email with parenting reflections and advice. When she was a mother of young kids, I was still in high school and didn't notice what an amazing job she was doing until...hmm, about four years ago.

Now my sister's kids are in high school and college and all that love and patience has resulted in what anyone would call an enviable relationship between the parents and the children. They are a very close family.

I want that! So I thought I'd open the floor up for more wisdom.

What do you want to share with me about going from a one-child household to splitting my energy between two (actually three) boys? Or any other parenting advice you'd like to give me; I'd love to hear it!

(I should warn you, I've already mastered the "let the housework go" advice.)

On a silly note, my friend Kitty has a 4 year old named Boston. He's cute enough to be a Ralph Lauren model (both of her kids are) and his sweet nature is just as lovely. He's being pursued by a little girl, Hailey, at day care, but he already has a sweetheart named Bailey, so he told Hailey in a little kid way that he's off the market.

This tidbit is taken directly off an email from Kitty and I think its priceless!

So I told you all about Hailey asking Boston to marry him. Well,

On Tuesday, September 1 (our 8 year anniversary), my little baby boy got his first kiss on the lips from a girl !!!!!! (PS, I asked, he liked it). Of course, it was Hailey, she ambushed him behind a bookshelf. (Little hussy)

Well, on Wednesday I picked him up and asked him if he played with Hailey today and he said "No, she told me she had a headache and didn't want to play with me"

Then Hannah [7 year old sister] adds, "That was nice, she didn't want Boston to get her headache"

'Fast little girl!

And God knows what he's doing giving me two little boys.

Favorite Things

2009-09-03T23:17:00.000-05:00

I had a rough few days. I was plagued by all these different aches and pains that made me realize my pregnancy has been pleasant overall, until last Friday.

Then it was a miserable few days where I could hardly walk or move around. MMA was wonderful and did his best to knock out his weekend chores, take care of me and keep Only Child from bouncing off the walls.

As of Wednesday, I am happy to report I am feeling much, much better.

My mind's not into blogging right now on account of the the 30 pound baby I'm carrying around. He's due any day now (actually Sept 24th, but if I keep saying "any day now" I feel more proactive in willing this thing to happen sooner.)

I'm predicting I will go into labor on September 14th.

I made a special exception to participate in Girly Stuff's OurFavorite Things link-up.

Is it any surprise that when I think of favorites, all that comes to mind is food? Even still, I'm going to cheat a little...

Here we go.

1. MMA! Sorry, he's the only one and he's not for sale! I just found out today that he's been shopping for my push gift. Now I don't even need the gift. The thought alone makes me happy. I think I'll have his baby.

2. Girly Stuff is one of my favorite people in all the world. She showed up at my house on Saturday at 9 am and didn't leave until I practically pushed her out the door at 10 pm. She was helping me get my former guest room all dolled up for the new baby. This involved shopping, putting up hardware, making drapes...and all the brilliant ideas she had been mentally banking for months. Seriously, I could hardly get her to eat or call home all day. The amazing thing is that she would do this for anyone of us that she calls a friend; very beautiful and generous heart, this one!

3. Kitty, my BFF for 25 years and counting. When we were little girls, we talked about being Olympic synchronized swimmers AND college roommates. We realized one of those dreams. Kitty is quirky and silly and so much fun to be around! She will probably be the first one at the hospital (again) when I have this baby. We've hit every major life milestone together...except sex (she was doin' it way before me.) What? That's the hormones talking, I don't know what I'm saying. She has been good to me in a dozen different ways just this week. (I hope our sons end up being BFFs, too.) We heart Kitty!

Favorite things, favorite things, (think Oprah...)
4. HEB...'love that store! Lately I've been doing what I'll call cold-turkey shopping (with no coupons, and no mapping out the deals.) No question, my grocery bill is always lower at HEB. Plus, Only Child thinks its a great treat to go there. Not sure why. So HEB, we salute you as a favorite thing!

5. There is an HEB brand product that we like so much, it merits its own shout out. HEB's frozen chicken chunks (in the black bag, frozen, in the fresh meat department.) They are so good, they rival Chick fil A's. Need I say more?

6. Blue Bell ice cream. And no, that is not my freezer.

7. Oscar Mayer Bacon Bits. Bacon is a distinct food group in this house and as a family, we eat a bag of these every week. We use them in every variation of eggs you can imagine. We put them on salads, baked potatoes, Butt Burners. Maybe I should add 4 bags of these to my baby registry.

(OK, non perishable favorites; let's see...)

8. Author, Tom Perrotta. I mentioned once before how much I love the movie, Election. I didn't know it was a book or who might have written it until my friend Red, chose Little Children as her book club pick for the year. I adored this book, only to learn that the genius behind both works is one and the same!?! I have to get my hands on some of his other stuff. Any hack can slap you in the face, ala the Farrelly brothers, but smart and subtle satire is, to me, much more delightful. So yah, Perrotta. New favorite.

9. Half Price Books. Another family favorite.

10. The newly renovated Children's Museum of Houston. Wow!

Baby Mama's Parking Drama (Rant)

2009-08-25T22:17:00.003-05:00

I've been delighting in a little evilness lately. What else is new?

I'll admit to being one who looks down my nose at able-bodied people who park in the handicap spots. But lately I've been feeling a little more horsey about it. (Maybe just a little bit entitled to judge as I'm weeble-wobbling along from ten yards back in this blistering, unrelenting heat.)

My family and I were sitting at a restaurant by the window a few weeks ago and we watched this thirty-something guy jump out of his BMW, parking in a handicap spot, when there was a non-handicap spot open that was even closer to the door!!! I guess he's so used to taking advantage of his hang tag he didn't even notice.

One lady I encountered at Target had the nerve to park up front even wearing full work out clothes, jogging shoes, and looking like she just left the gym. I couldn't help myself!

I've started staring people down who don't belong in the handicap spot. Like, really giving them the up, down, once over. Looking over my shoulder at them, silently letting them know "You're wrong for parking there!"

Some people don't have any moral reservations about what they are doing. Most people quickly look away. But, you'd be surprised at how many people make uncomfortable comments, seemingly to thin air, about why they are parked where (they know in their heart) they shouldn't be.

I can't believe my gall. Who am I to make them feel uncomfortable with my Jedi-telepathic silent reproach?

It's so wrong. I know its not my business, but it feels so darn good (even if something inside tells me this behavior is a near cousin to road-raging.)

I hope I don't get shot up for being so snide. I'm not going to stop until I'm not pregnant anymore. (One more month, or so, of being the naughty, self-appointed parking lot police.)

Oh, and if I catch a man in the pregnant lady parking spot during the heat of the day, it won't be a silent disapproval.

We might make the 10 o'clock news! (Can you imagine a crazy pregnant lady going berzerk on some guy for that? Hypothetically speaking, could she then insist on a jury of pregnant peers?)

May I go on?

I threw away the most delightful hour watching two episodes of Kourtney and Khloe take Miami.

Technically its considered reality TV.

Such lovely girls, those Kardashians.

Reality comes to them a little later than most, probably because of the sheltering effect of their trust funds. Now these girls are like 28-30 years old and one's having a flirtation with a bi-chic while professing her heterosexuality, while the other sister is drunk-kissing her coworker and learning how it feels to face up to that the next day at work.

I happened to catch the episode where the foul-mouthed sister finds a vial of cocaine and takes it to the radio station where she works, pops it out of her purse and says on live radio, "Look what I found at my store...drugs are everywhere in Miami..."

Obviously she didn't know any better about normal-people job protocol, but she sure learned her lesson. It was like a modern spin on the Brady Bunch episode where cigarettes fall out of Greg's jacket.

But, you know, with Jan casually calling Marsha (or Carol) a "b!tch-a$$-ho" or some other colorful nickname. And picture Cindy dressed like a prostitute to meet a friend for lunch.

It's just so raw and identifiable what these poor girls face as they claw their way up and hang on for deal life to their media starlet status.

Two thumbs ups.

(And for you really big fans who happen to be little in the middle like the Dash girls, did you know you can buy their gently used clothes on ebay ? Seems they are green humanitarians, too!)

Book Club Graduation & a Question about Friendship

2009-08-18T23:55:00.003-05:00

If our book club was a child, we'd be headed to Kindergarten this year.

Hard to believe, but the Feisty Nuns and I have logged five years and approximately 25 books! Collectively, we've had 4 (going on 6) new babies. We've bought new houses, changed jobs, gone through a divorce. We've had first days of school, more kids parties than we can count and somehow managed to make "girl" time a priority.

Last Saturday kind of brought us full circle. We went out for Mexican food and (briefly) discussed our latest book. Then we saw The Time Traveler's Wife, which was the first book we read together. The movie was great, the girls are good hang, and I highly recommend that everyone out there find a circle of women like this!

In another five years, we'll all be hitting 40 and we're taking book club to Vegas! (I'm starting that rumor now so we can start saving our SW Airlines points and whatnot.)

Book club is becoming less about the books and all about the relationships, (and I'm OK with that) but I feel some unfinished business in discussing this last book, A Line Between Friends. It was, by no means, great literature. Still, I found the subject matter compelling.

A Line Between Friends discusses whether or not a man and a woman can remain friends after they cross the line. In this case, "the line" is sex and the story follows a man and a woman who meet in high school, attend college together and for years flirt with the possibility of a relationship that never materializes. They hook up once, and then try to maintain a friendship after each has moved on and married other people. Can it really be done?

I say no, absolutely not. I couldn't maintain a friendship if there was any romantic history out of respect for my husband, modesty, precaution and a whole host of other reasons I could probably come up with. I say its a bad idea, and if you read me, this is no great revelation. (That includes Facebook chatting; call me the jealous-type.)

To my surprise at least a couple of the ladies in book club said, "Yes it can be done," and see this kind of friendship as no big deal. Who knew?

What do you say to remaining friends after crossing the line?

Last Minute Nesting

2009-08-12T00:20:00.003-05:00

Nesting instinct kicking in? Check.

Freaking out a little bit? Check.

Buying Frenzy? Little bit

I have been sleeping worse than ever this week thinking about all that I still have to do and what if the baby should come earlier than September 24th, as planned?

I also found out recently that my that my anemia went from bad to worse. So now I'm on strict orders to get it together or face the possibility of a blood transfusion.

Yuck, who wants that!? I can't believe that someone so (shall we say) rubenesque, could be so anemic! I'm indulging famously, I just didn't realize Blue Bell is not considered a good source of iron...So I'm taking the pills faithfully and putting up with the tree bark effect. TMI?

Exhaustion had the better of me for the last month, but I'm over it. There's too much to do. I still pant at the slightest exertion, but I'm thinking its considered a sultry thing here in the south.

Girly Stuff sounded a little exasperated with me on the phone last week because of my slow progress in getting important pre-baby things done. My procrastination is not new to her, but it does tend to vex the type A people in my life. To her credit, that disapproval was just what I needed to give me a jump start in the nesting-thing.

Last week I bought an assortment of "sexy" nursing lingerie and the obligatory grown up pajamas for the hospital (not a snap button duster, but better than my usual tank top/boxer look.) I threw that along with some granny panties into the hospital bag.

Checked one more thing off my list.

I never liked the wood-framed glider we bough for Only Child. I wanted an upholstered rocker in the new baby's room, so I've been trolling craigs list for months. I found this small club chair at a steal because the mom said it doesn't rock well on carpet. So now I have an ugly glider that works great, and a great-looking rocker that may or may not do the trick. I'd say that's balance. (Its in such good condition, I'm considering a slip cover to protect it from spit up. That's crazy, right?)

I been online until the wee hours picking out this and that and trying to wrap up the other projects that have my mind racing in all directions when I should be sleeping.

Painters are scheduled for Friday.

I still have to pick out a crib bedding (this is one of three sets I'm considering) and some fabric for the windows. I have to buy a few cute pieces of art like this or this and this that I saw on Etsy. I'm picturing a vintagey-mod room, with soft, washed colors because this is going to be my laid-back baby.

(Most people don't know, I didn't, but you can custom order the temperament of baby you desire.)

I have asked MMA very nicely to get all the baby stuff down from the attic so I can launder, sort and put things away. He's also in charge of furniture assembly. This may require some beer drinking and having a guy friend over to talk about the sweet life they left behind for fatherhood.

Girly Stuff is coming over the Saturday after next to direct the DIY projects and to help arrange all the pretties in the nursery. We'll probably eat Chick fil A and talk about our kids and our post-baby bodies and how we keep getting better and better with age.

I AM going to sleep better tonight knowing that things are finally coming together.

I love you, too!

2009-08-06T18:45:00.000-05:00

Bonnie at The Campbell Family gave me this award. It's taken me way too long to acknowledge it. Lately, if I have a free moment, I nap instead of blog. I do want to thank her for putting me in such great company!

Bonnie is always doing something fun with her house-full-o-boys...I can see where my life is headed; I see lots of team sports and dirt under our nails and NEVER a dull moment!

There are some things I love about blogging.

First, I can talk (even if its just to myself) without apology about any topic I choose. It's always about me, here. Can you tell I was a middle child? I just wish I was getting paid for all this sharing. I take that back. To date I've racked up a whopping $2.12 in Google ad sense funds...now if I could convert that to an Amazon gift certificate, I'd really be banking!

Second, I get acquainted with people from all over the place. People with real lives who exist many states away that I will never meet; yet I know them...sort of. I follow their blogs like some people follow TV shows. Only, reality is more interesting than fiction. Don't you agree?

And, I learn cool things. Since I haven't been an official student in more than ten years, I like to think I keep my brain active by watching Noggin (its like preschool for kids) and blogging. I am constantly amazed at what those prolific, crafty bloggers are up to!

So I'd like to re-gift this award to these comrades for their contributions to my blogging circle. I love blogging because of bloggers like you!

The Idea Room - Amy's ideas are totally accessible, practical or just too much fun not to know about. She's the creative kid that's always got her hands into something new. She's only been blogging for a few months and already has amassed quite a following. No surprise why.

The American Homemaker - Besides being talented in the kitchen and crafting arenas, Angie is totally down to earth and honest about "life." She finds beauty in unexpected things and turns trash into treasure with a little spit and spray paint. Did I mention that she also juggles a full-time job and kids?

Live.Love.Eat - Stephanie is always cooking something that I would love to eat. I wish we were neighbors! A self-described foodie, she tries out new recipes (plural) each week, posts pictures and gives her personal feedback on the recipe. We have similar taste in food, so I hang on her every ingredient. Need some dinner inspiration? Check her out!

Big Catch

2009-08-01T11:00:00.003-05:00

We took Only Child on his first fishing trip this week. We packed a picnic after work and headed to the lake in our neighborhood...the one we drive by every day and rarely stop to appreciate.

With a new Sponge Bob fishing rod, a gift from Aunt Denise, we headed out on a Tuesday night with some stale bread and hot dogs for bait.

Guess what? They bit.

We were also entertained by a family of ducks and a tenacious little turtle that kept hanging around begging us to throw Fritos into the water and making us all laugh.

These are the moments we live for.

Fishing is serious business

Mrs. McNair & Love Talk

2009-07-23T22:32:00.007-05:00

So now its confirmed, Jon and Kate are over and he's left his family in their big broken home to party on the Riviera with another woman instead of being there to walk his kids through their sadness and confusion.

That's no good.

I know I'm blogging about old news, but was anyone else aghast at the public pain and humiliation that Mrs. Steve McNair must have endured because her husband couldn't keep his...ahem...at home where it belonged?!

This lady is someone I never knew existed until the story of her husband's death broke, and suddenly I'm feeling compassion and even anger for her at the consequences of her husband's choices.

And now the McNair kids don't have a dad because he picked the craziest Hooters waitress in all of Tennessee to mess around with??!! I'm mad for those kids, too.

When the McNair story was unfolding, MMA and I actually discussed this question: "What would hit you first, the pain or the anger, if you were Mrs. McNair?"

That was an interesting conversation.

We've been having lots of conversations like that recently because there have been so many people around us that are caught up in the hell of marital infidelity. People that we know, people like us (married for a few years, kids, seemingly established in their relationship) who are hitting a dangerous stage that comes out of no where.

Or does it?

In talking about this very real danger to any marriage, I hope we're moving in the right direction to protect what we have. But I know that talking is not enough. We are so guilty of not depositing into the marriage account on a regular basis. We might get a REAL date night every six months. Paltry isn't it?

We're in a Bible study group with three couples. When we get child care for Bible study, that's our adult socializing time. And its great, but certainly its not time that we're investing just for us to enjoy each other's company.

And yet we know the right thing to do here. It's like eating fast food. We know it's not healthy or nutritious, but we eat it anyway because it's easy. Sometimes I feel like we're feeding our marriage fast food instead of the good stuff. I tell myself that we're in a season in life that requires less time for ourselves so we can take care of our young family.

But at what cost? I love our family and wouldn't trade it for a second honeymoon (wait, let me think about that for a minute...no, I wouldn't trade it) but I'll be honest, I miss those carefree years; BK everything was easier...not more joyous, but easier for sure.

I love MMA and I'm lucky to have him. And I intend to keep it that way! We are embarking on a new Bible study with our group that is dedicated to improving communication within marriage. I'm looking forward to it. It's about time for a tune-up every couple of years, right?

So if anyone out there has the perfect marriage with the secret to spousal communication, go ahead and forward me the Cliff's notes so we can skip the book and just hang out with our CFs. (And still reap the benefits of the preventative maintenance.)

And let me tell you what, our bible study kicks a$$! I don't know if you're allowed to say that about a bible study, but we laugh, enjoy good food and wine, open up about real issues that we all struggle with and we put each other on the spot about growing in faith and pushing forward. It's not a safe-haven for anyone who wants to just listen and be left alone. (Which was where MMA was five years ago when I dragged him into it. And look at him now, he's the one calling me out on little white lies and the moral gray areas.)

I'm so glad to be Mrs. MMA!

I'll leave you with a couple of questions, and I especially want to hear from anyone who has learned things the hard way, (married or dating) how do you keep balance in your relationship with so much vying for your time? How do you invest in your relationship? What have you learned about communication within a relationship?

Ike update from My Point of View

2009-07-22T11:50:00.001-05:00

Our Galveston weekend was wonderful and we were lucky enough to have some family join us on Sunday. I picked up a cake, a few pizzas, a cooler of drinks and bam! Instaparty!

We stayed at this cute little condo that I picked for the location right on the beach. It turned out nicer than the pictures show, so I was very pleased. The little guy loved sleeping in the top bunk and kept calling the place our condo. I wish!

He was so excited about his birthday that it was at easily midnight before he fell asleep Saturday. Sounds precious now, but I was on the verge of doling out birthday spankings to help him fall asleep. MMA stopped me...he's good like that.

We managed to squeeze in lots of fun Galveston attractions: the beach, the strand, the ferry, dining at Pier 21...we will remember it for a very long time!

Ready for the update? I hesitated to post this part, but I have some things to say and this is my blog. So if you don't want to hear me drone on and on, abort now.

The island of Galveston is looking better than I expected. The sea wall did what it was designed to do. If you didn't know what Galveston looked like before Hurricane Ike, you might not realize they suffered a MAJOR disaster less than a year ago. The beaches along the sea wall (where they've trucked in unfathomable amounts of sand) looked pretty good considering the catastrophic erosion. We didn't venture to the west side of the island but I know that the residential rebuilding is a slower process.

Of course the economy, and so many, are still hurting...right down to the Catholic Diocese and the medical establishment. Thousands of jobs are gone. Sadly, La Kings is no more and all the beautiful old oak trees along Broadway were killed by the storm surge and have to be removed.

But tourism seems to be rebounding. And Galveston's resilience and urgency to rebuild makes me proud to be a Texan. It makes me want to take another trip to the island and spend money to help that effort.

Coastal Texans didn't have the same massive media stage to decry FEMA and the Red Cross and every other agency that did not and could not duplicate the generosity of the Katrina debacle. The celebrities didn't come out in droves to sing concerts or raise money to rebuild after Ike, either. (Or Rita, remember Rita? The easternmost Texas coast got hit twice since Katrina.) Now, less than a year after Ike, I'm afraid Texans have gotten all the help we're going to get and it was a pittance in comparison.

I feel compelled to moan about it here on my own little stage, because my neighbors were abruptly cut off or never given any federal aid for housing or rebuilding when Katrina services were dragged on and on right under our noses in Houston. The system was abused by so many (stuff like this) who milked America's generosity like a cow and it seems the media and the judicial system was in on it.

It was common to hear the term "Katrina housing" in Houston up until Ike hit three years later! Extension after extension was approved in the courts, everyone afraid to say to the leeches "Ok, you lost everything, but now its time to move on and GET A JOB."

Conversely, there was no "Ike housing." Ike hit in September and by November, people who also lost everything were cut off. In any case, FEMA is a joke to those who put in to the system. Like welfare, maybe one dollar out of a thousand ends up in the hands of someone who contributed. And its just a band aid, not a cure. But I digress.

Why am I so bent out of shape when my family has insurance and we didn't miss any meals waiting on Harry Connick Jr to belt one out for us?

Well, if Galveston looks good, Bolivar is another story. Bolivar is to Ike what Bay St. Louis was to Katrina. You know, the place that took the dirty side of the hurricane, yet was all but forgotten by the media.

Bolivar is a low lying peninsula just across the port from Galveston which is mostly rural with no tourism or big industry to speak of. We took the ferry across and were saddened by the conditions just an hour's drive from where we live. From the Galveston/Bolivar ferry you must drive at least ten miles to reach anything that resembles a store or gas station. Bolivar still looks very third world and most neighborhoods are still in shambles. Concrete slabs are the only indication that houses once stood where weeds are taking over. Destroyed buildings have been abandoned all over. If there was anywhere to stop and spend some money, we would have.

Has anyone outside the Houston area ever heard of Bolivar or Crystal Beach?

Houston, (like so much of the country) was exceedingly generous after Katrina. Our mayor stepped up get those poor people the hell out of the Superdome without considering who would reimburse the city. Then they ended up Houston's problem and we ended up eating millions of dollars in that effort, BUT, still, I think we did the right thing in helping our neighbors in their time of need.

But my closer neighbors, were not extended the same generosity. Where were 'ya Dallas? That bothers me.

Words of Wisdom

2009-07-11T00:26:00.009-05:00

My almost four-year-old often catches me off-guard. It's easy to forget that I'm talking to someone so young because he is the best company and a marvelous conversationalist. He's becoming a little man right before my awe-struck eyes.

Only Child asked me to play trains with him this morning. I said, "not right now" because I was trying to get my precious computer time in. (He hardly naps any more so I hardly blog anymore.) He said, "C'mon mommy, the computer will wait for you."

Needless to say, we spent the rest of the morning playing Thomas and Duncan, because, how could I argue with that?

Last week I took him to get a haircut and asked the lady to go a little shorter this time because its been so hot and his hair is 'fro-ing two weeks after a cut. She cut it WAY shorter than ever before. When he got home he looked in the bathroom mirror and feigned crying. When I asked him what was the matter, he said, (still acting for my benefit) "all my beautiful curls are gone!"

Interesting, how I disparage my curls and yet I love my curls on him. But more importantly, I'm glad he loves his curls. In fact, he seem to love everything about himself and that is an example we could all learn from.

Time is such an abstract concept to a small child. Five minutes. One hour. Next week...its a slow process to grasp the meaning of these words. And you can only learn these increments by experiencing them for yourself.

Last December, Mrs. Santa Clause came to visit Only Child's preschool and she asked him if he was excited about Christmas. He responded, "Yes, but its taking SO long to get here!"

Can he get an Amen?

He's been asking me all week, "How long until my birthday?" and "How long until we leave for the beach?" I keep saying, "Saturday, we leave Saturday," and then I rattle off the days until we leave.

So today he finally said with a sense of excitement and relief, "Tomorrow, that means after this night...it's going to be my birthday!"

"Well, tomorrow, after this night, we leave for the Galveston, but your birthday is not for two more nights."

Sounding just like his dad, he got all exasperated and threw his hands in the air, "Ahhh! This is taking forever! I'm so frustrated!" I was beaming inside at his commanding sense of self.

I love his little mind.

And a final nugget of proof that my little boy is wiser than men ten times his age: everyday recently, when I've been needing to hear it most, he remembers to say, "Mommy, you look so beautiful. I love you." And he hugs and kisses my big round belly.

I love that boy!

From a recent and rare dress up night

Salsa is Sexy!

2009-07-05T17:15:00.007-05:00

True story, WI dreamt about salsa last night.

This was not some hormone-imbalance induced fantasy. This was the result of the sweet burn that lingered on my lips as I drifted off to sleep, belly full of everything that is right with the world on the Fourth of July.

Have I mentioned what a fun street I live on? 'Good people that love their families, God, and the old-fashion American block party.

I happen to live next door to the self-declared mayor of our street. Maybe we declared him the mayor; I can't remember. (My other next-door-neighbor.) His main responsibility is to organize everything fun that happens on our block. (That he stays on top of community business is just an added bonus.) And he serves us so dutifully, there will never be an election.

For the Fourth of July the Mayor organized a Kid's parade, cook out, and Salsa Contest! How fun is that?

I had to come out swinging because some have commented that my winning chili at Halloween was not really a "chili" but more of a soup in the eyes of the men.

This time around the Mayor declared that there would be two categories for our block party Salsa contest: traditional red and "other" for green, mango, pineapple, etc. (No, not the dance kind, sadly.)

If I may have lingered longer than necessary at the salsa table and if I sampled each salsas two or even three times, you know, to catch all the nuances, it was only out of respect for the game. And my fine opponents.

I have to admit, there was not a salsa I didn't enjoy! And in fact, there were a couple that were so incredible, I couldn't help but indulge in more than my fair share.

"Can't stop, won't stop" was my mantra last night. Might have played the pregnancy card as I was helping myself to obscene amounts of food.

There was the Chueys inspired creamy cilantro one. Wow!

There was a smooth green avacado-y sour creamy one that I could have sipped with a straw. (I never found out who brought that one.)

There was a delightfully fresh micro-hand chopped winner that came out of my neighbor's garden.

There was the smokin' hot chipotle one that taunted me to see how much I could take.

I wanted to take them all home with me. (At least the recipes.) No wonder I had such sweet dreams!I present to you, humbly, my first place entry in the "other" category. I did a ton of research and found this recipe at a favorite site. It's called Fire & Ice Salsa. Yes, that's watermelon, not tomato...

It's strange and delicious and just like the name implies. Luckily, the watermelon I bought was not the sweetest I've ever had, which made it perfect for this concoction. I also doubled (at least) the other ingredients and left out the garlic. I have one suggestion, salt just before serving, or the watermelon will weep and seep all the juice out.

I think this would be a nice light accompaniment to fish tacos or grilled chicken. Or to eat with a spoon when no one is looking.

Hope you had a fun 'Fourth!

House Beautiful and a Shining Star

2009-07-02T11:59:00.009-05:00

Home Improvements:

OMG! This woman on HGTV just showed the up lighting in her house. (I don't know what you call it except up lighting where you have a ledge just below the ceiling in which you hide lights that shine up toward the ceiling.)

This brilliant woman took cheap gutters from the hardware store and painted them to match her walls. Then she had them hung just below the ceiling, threw in some lights where no one can see...heck, you could even use $3/strand Christmas lights and it would still look custom and expensive. Isn't that a great idea? (Someone out there with more initiative than I should really tackle this project and post pictures so I can brag and say you heard it here first.)

I want to put somethings out there so I can be held accountable. Ask me about my projects in exactly one month. Nesting instinct will kick in by then and I'll be moving forward on things that have to get done by September:

1. Finish my bedroom (paining, drapes, and pretty accessories.) I would love for it to turn out something like this. I also have to pick out light fixtures for the master bathroom and cabinet hardware, too.

2. Put together a nursery. The room is painted SW Blonde (which Girly Stuff says we will be changing.) All the furniture is white: crib, changing table, bookcase (5 ft tall with the cubes on top to put fabric baskets in and regular shelves on the bottom.) I'm thinking we'll buy a new upholstered club chair/glider. I have a chest in the garage from my parents' house that I wouldn't mind working in somehow. My ideas for this room are scattered and unfocused so GS taking me by the hand. Her first recommendation is that I should find white crib bedding.

More white? That's what I thought, and I wasn't seeing the all-white vision, but after I stumbled on to this pretty bit of inspiration, I'm going to trust her and go with it.

Entertainment:

In other unimportant news, does anyone else think Clint Eastwood makes the best "human suffering" movies on the planet? Hello, Million Dollar Baby? Mystic River. Unforgiven.

(You thought I was going to talk about MJ, didn't you? Hmmph!)

We just rented Gran Torino and I loved it! It had a strangely uplifting and sad ending; how is that even possible except for a genius like Clint Eastwood? Me thinks he was born to make movies.

I cried laughing every time Clint (playing a quick-tempered old racist) came out packing the heat against the neighborhood gangsters. The slurs were flying. Everyone knows an old bastard like that who has lived long enough that they just don't care anymore and "get off my lawn." Walt Kowalski was hilarious to me...the bigot with the heart of gold.

(I laugh when I'm supposed to be crying at movies...I've been told that's weird.)

I'm starting to feel like the last person on the planet who hasn't seen Hangover. The Micker saw it twice! Maybe I'll sneak out this weekend and see it by myself since MMA already saw it. Call me if you want to catch a movie!

Or not...I don't mind eating a whole bucket of popcorn by myself if necessary.

Birthday Parties and Labor

2009-06-23T18:30:00.010-05:00

I've been hiding out from the extreme Texas heat. It's been sizzling (even by Houston standards) and its only June.

No one is showing up to feed me ice-cold grapes in the heat of the day. Or fan me while I lie on a hammock .

Sigh.

Keeping Only Child entertained inside all day (did I mention naps are dead?) means never a quiet moment. This high maintenance only-child racket is swiftly coming to an end.

My little boy will be four years old in July! We went to my nephew's birthday party this weekend. He also turned four and it was a perfect plan: a small crowd at a shaded, covered park pavilion. Chick-fil-A tray. Simple. Easy.

The heat was so oppressive that the birthday boy was threatening to heave by the time the clown was packing up.

I'm SO not up to throwing a big party right now! (Or even a little one.)

Our family alone totals more than 20 people. We live on a street full of kids, 15 kids to be exact. My good friends have 13 kids between them. Who to leave out when we love them all?

Decisions had to be made and so they were made.

Only Child thinks staying in a hotel is a great adventure. I figure we'll stay in Galveston and make a weekend out of it...take him to the beach on his birthday, lunch somewhere, order a cake...everyone is happy.

Isn't that a great plan? Who wouldn't like to stay in Galveston for their birthday?

And when did kid birthday parties get so out of control? I must admit, the cost of throwing a party at the usual places has tipped the scales in favor of my Galveston plan. I was trying to think of something different to do because parties at Chuck E Cheese and the bouncy place are so popular that I'm afraid my son doesn't appreciate how special they are.

And, I hate to admit it, but my kid has come to expect a nice goody bag on the way out the door after a hosting family has already dropped a nice chunk on the festivities. (And I am fully part of the circuit, don't get me wrong.)

No more. I'm starting a movement of Mom's breaking the cycle of extravagant kid parties...the MBCEKP, if you will. No more dropping the equivalent of a car payment on kid parties. My organization calls for a retro celebration, or none at all.

Who is with me?

Am I sounding like a scrooge yet? It gets better...

On to labor.

Mistakes were made the first time around. We didn't have a plan. I didn't know I would be cowering in pain and waiting HOURS for that epidural. My husband left the hospital with his mother to buy a hamburger while I was in labor and then he was too...nice to ask his family to leave when I begged it of him in his ear. I had to do it myself.

That is all unacceptable.

This time around, if "you" haven't had dinner before the show starts...there will be granola bars in my suitcase.

Also, we will receive no visitors until after the blood and gore.

I take that back. My SIL Julie, the shining star of birth I, who took care of me during the dinner-run has forever ingratiated herself to me. She was my comrade in the trenches. Julie may enter the room, if she would like. And I will be comfortable in saying, "OK, thanks for coming, bye now."

So friends and family, please don't be offended that I don't want to take center stage in my most vulnerable hour. Please understand why you didn't get an invitation to the big 4 year celebration and why you won't get an invitation to the next birth-day, either.

We'll take lots of pictures and fill in the colorful details here.

When I start to feel anxious...

2009-06-13T21:58:00.012-05:00

I have been thinking about our future as a family of four and how much of a change Little Guy's going to bring. (And of course all the extra joy and love along with him.) I marvel at the thought of doubling my life's responsibility from one day to another.

I admit, I've thought about how hard it will be to start over with a new baby.

Things have gotten so much easier little by little, I hardly remember what it was like to change ten diapers a day, feed every three hours, sleep-when-you-can in short spurts. Then we reach an age where every corner is a bruise waiting to happen and regular household objects are potential choking hazards.

"How am I going to manage to do anything around the house when I can't seem to do it now?" I find myself wondering..."Can I juggle all this -- and be proud of the job I'm doing?"

Then I think about my neighbor who just had triplets on Thursday. That's right, triplets! And that's a whole 'nuther ball game. Another league, on another planet, I might imagine.

I've been thinking about them quite a bit lately. When a concern comes up in my mind about our family, I find myself praying for her family (including their four year old daughter) to navigate their way through their challenges.

The baby girls, identical twins and a third sibling, were born big (4 lb +) and healthy. Things are off to a good start!

Every time I feel anxious, I remember this precious family. If I'm in a marathon, they are embarking on the Ironman Triathalon. And every concern I have about our family (Is this baby going to be healthy? Do we have enough life insurance? How will we afford X,Y,Z?...) seems manageable in perspective.

Their story keeps getting more exciting: check out this article in the Houston Chronicl e.

God is marvelous!

We can do this.

The Suits

2009-06-09T16:55:00.007-05:00

Letting go of some old friends today really gives me pause for thought.

My work suits were taking up valuable closet space, but I loved each one of them and I refused to part ways (for years now.) When it was time to make room for maternity clothes a few months ago, I moved the suits to what will be the baby's closet as a temporary solution.

But I knew what I had to do.

I bought most of the suits in the first few years after school. In my young twenties and full of fire and ambition, I decided that if I was going to be taken seriously as a professional, I needed to stop buying clothes from the junior department. I cut off my long curly hair and started wearing it straight and shoulder length. I wore heels and hosiery 4 days a week (you already know that I love to torture myself.) And even though I didn't feel like a grown up, I made an effort to look like one.

In short, (and I am) I tried very hard to look older and take myself more seriously!

'Wish I could talk to that silly girl and tell her a few things about life. But here I am, and those suits were a tangible thing of hers that I held onto as long as I could.

I dropped the best ones off at a Dress for Success drop-off in the hope that someone else can use them before they get any more dated and dusty. I knew I was potentially "losing it" when, returning to my car, I thought for a split-second about going back in to get them.

There was the red Dana Buchman suit that I paid a small fortune for back when I believed the whole power-in-color-thing. (But I always did look good in red.)

There was the camel-colored pant suit from Talbots that still looks as sharp and tailored today as it did when I bought it. I felt about two inches taller in that one...but you won't see me in Talbots these days -- I'm way too young anymore.

There was my favorite navy short-sleeved suit (my first "summer" suit.) I loved it so much I had at least three different pairs of navy shoes to wear with it.

There was a black suit and a chocolate brown suit. So many different accessories. So many working lunches. So many memories of a simpler time that I made more complicated.

I don't know why I didn't get rid of the suits years ago. I have been a SAHM for three years now. And I had not worn suits to work for a couple years even before that. I think I was holding on to the hope that I might need an interview suit one of these days.

But as it turns out, I'm about to start a new job in a couple of months. It requires long, long hours and "dry clean only" is out of the question... And I'm not ashamed to admit that I have mixed emotions about taking on such a massive new project, although, I know how rewarding it will be.

I did keep one, a white summer suit. Because, in my imaginary world, I might be invited to a garden luncheon slash fashion show. I'll just need to throw on some strappy sandals and a big flowered hat and I'll be ready to go.

And I kept my black cocktail suit because... Well, just because.

A girl cannot survive on yoga pants alone.

Where do we go from here?

2009-06-02T01:00:00.015-05:00

UPDATE:
UPS recovered our package (a week after it was delivered) from the couple who were guilty of nothing more than not being neighborly enough to walk the damn thing over. To my chagrin, we opened it up and there was no remote control inside!! (Just some other equipment that I don't care about.) So the man says he'll send the long-awaited remote right over...via UPS.

Enough wasted energy! I'm not going to try to wrap my mind around "why?"

Original post:

I'm frustrated and beside myself over the stupidest thing.

I spent 30 minutes tracking a UPS package that was "delivered" last week. The sender thoughtfully left an automated message asking how I was getting along with my new stuff.

I saw the UPS guy deliver the package to my next door neighbor last week. The driver was blocking me in as I was getting in my car to leave one day, so I walked down the driveway to see if it was the new equipment we were eagerly awaiting, namely, a remote control that works...a brand new one (you starting to understand how important this is to me/us???)

To my delight, the box was clearly marked Di$# Network; but instead of delivering the goods into my outstretched hands, he sliced right and left it on my neighbor's porch.

I fear this was a crossroad in my life, and I choked; chose the wrong path.

I could have said, "Excuse me, but I was waiting for a package from that same sender. Are you sure that's not meant for this house?"

Or I could have immediately called UPS Worldwide Headquarters and put them on the case.

Or, I could have (and in hindsight, should have) waited until the driver left, snuck up to the door and grabbed what was rightfully mine.

Knowing that my neighbors have the same, shall we say, master, I gave 'em the benefit of the doubt that just maybe, they too, were waiting for a box exactly the right size to fit my stuff. I let it go. I never doubted that if the box was meant for us, it would find its way to our porch.

That never happened and now UPS is on it and I'm not responsible for the loss. But I wonder...

Are they partying down with my new remote?

Was I intentionally wronged? (A teeny-tiny, perhaps naive, part of me wants to believe it is an honest mistake.)

And most importantly, where do we go from here as neighbors?

Do they suspect we know they took our sh--, our stuff? (Don't stand between me and the ability to pause and replay live TV. I'm from the barrio; it'll get ugly.)

These are Next.Door.Neighbors, for the love of all that is right in the world! This is not suppose to happen on my street. (Remember my wonderful street?) But that house, I'm afraid, has a spirit that attracts the weird ones... I'd better leave it at that.

I'm torn.

Our pastor was just preaching on Sunday that Christians give the benefit of the doubt. They don't bring up old trash. Or gossip. Or talk the way I sometimes talk onmyblogandinreallife. I'm suppose to set an example and love my neighbor as myself.

But myself wants to bang on their door and demand some answers. And get my remote, NOW, not five days from now when the man acknowledges my loss and reUPSes it.

Today, I am not only Woman Interrupted, I am Woman Scorned.

And when you hear from me next time, I'm going to be so over this petty diversion.

God Bless the German People

2009-05-27T00:00:00.016-05:00

Specifically the ones who settled central Texas, for they introduced my world to beer, brats, and Schlitterbahn.

We've just returned from a relaxing five-nighter in the blue collar Riviera of Texas, New Braunfels, known for rolling hills, river sports and THE water park that started it all.

When I was growing up in that big family, most of our vacations were spent camping in the great outdoors. We had a groovy 70's VW camper (orange) with a pop-top sleeping loft and a built-in fridge and sink. We'd pack that baby to the brim: kids, tent, Coleman stove and hit the road. It must have been chaotic with the country music playing while kids fought in the back seat to pass the time, all the while, the wind whipping through the orange plaid curtains mom made for the camper that dad called "Betsy." But I only remember the good times.

I realize my memories are only just sprinkled with reality because Betsy was, in fact, a lemon and I'm reminded by my siblings how much trouble she often gave us on those romantic road trips. My brother assures me that camping was hot, uncomfortable torture once he hit his teen years but was still too young to stay home alone. I think we have photographic evidence of his misery somewhere.

Yes, hotels and a/c are not to be replaced, but what about roasting dinner on a stick over a campfire and waking up at the first sunlight to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying outdoors? What about chasing frogs and lightening bugs and peeing behind trees in the dark? What about learning to pitch a tent, or roll up a sleeping bag, or start a campfire? What about looking out at the night sky to discover all the stars that are washed out by city lights? And what about all that together-time with no movies or computers to entertain ourselves with? When you camp, you hang out and you talk and you eat, and you get dirty and go swimming to wash off the sweat. To me, camping evokes good times, simple times. And I want that again, for my boys.

Once out of college, MMA and I enjoyed many wonderful trips to places I'd only dreamed of going as a child. I thought I had arrived. Why drive somewhere and camp when you can travel like this? Or so I thought.

But as we were leisurely loading up the car last Sunday (no plane to catch, no danger in drinking the local water) for the drive to our rustic cottage with all the comforts of home, just three hours from home --I'm almost six months pregnant remember, let's not get crazy-- I finally got it. I understand now why so many generations have been vacationing in New Braunfels with their kids. Even those who could have gone somewhere more exotic.

Fancy Camping?

Only now do I get it, that when you travel with little ones, it really is all about what they want and need because taking care of them first affords us some R&R, too. Those wonderful Germans must have surely understood that when they fashioned the perfect, affordable family vacation spot smack dab in the middle of all the biggest cities in Texas. An easy vacation in the beautiful Texas Hill Country, what's not to love!

I came to these same caverns as a kid

You should have seen me floating along the lazy river, butt-up, at Schlitterbahn with my big pregnant belly resting so pleasingly in the inner tube. I felt like I had re-arrived, further evolved. Only Child was giggling and bouncing along beside me under the watchful eye of his daddy. I knew he would be worn out and ready for bed extra early.

Forget about expensive drinks at the swim up bar or going back to the room to fix my wet hair for an evening out. I was looking forward to hanging out on our rented couch to watch TV and read in peace and quiet. That last night, a whole pack of deer came to graze right outside our cabin in front of the river.

It was so pretty and peaceful and I thought to myself what I always think on vacation, (no matter where) "This is the life, right here. This is it!" (And of course, "How much is real estate around here?)

So, God Bless you, German settlers of central Texas!

Gettin' his Facebook on

Score!

2009-05-14T22:46:00.019-05:00

I survived bathing suit shopping and I didn't kill Only Child even once in the dressing room when no one else was looking.

I think first pregnancies are for going all out and spending lots of money to show off the blossoming tummy. Been there, done that. I am content to buy as little as possible and squeeze into my regular tee's until they're just too short. (My son calls them Winnie the Pooh shirts.)

So spending big bucks on a bathing suit was never a consideration. In fact, my only qualifications are (1) to not look vulgar and (2) to draw as little attention as possible. Looking cute at the pool's got nothin' to do with it...I'm just trying to hang in there for Only Child's sake.

And can I butt in for a second and ask, who are these freaks of nature that walk around in bikinis with their porno-bellies hanging out, no fat thighs, no stretch marks, and crazy enough in the head to think they look good? Some of them actually do look just fine. For pregnant women.

And on to Target, the first and last stop in our bathing suit hunt. Our search begins there when I remember Motherhood's strict "no refunds for any reason whatsoever" policy. (I mean, if a pregnant woman is not allowed to change her mind...then screw you! -- hypothetically speaking.) And I'd like the record to show that Target and Old Navy have as good or better to pick from and they don't sell your personal information out to a dozen junk mail distributors.

Everything out now (and for the last few years) seems to be a halter. So that means the bathing suit tie that rests on my neck has support countless pounds of big-girl-bounce. Which is borderline too heavy when I'm NOT pregnant. Style who? Just too impractical.

After nine different halter tops, my [insert body part]s were chaffing from all the putting on, taking off. I even considered a plus size top, but they were too short and provided extra room for 360 degrees of roundness. We were getting hungry and tired. Only Child was laying on the floor of the dressing room begging me to shoot him. I was about to give up when I saw it.

There, on the clearance rack was the only top in the store that could support my rack. A pink and black flowery thing hanging there with regular over-the-shoulder straps. It could have been velvet with a picture of Jimmy Hendrix's a$$ on it. If was my size, (and it was) I would have taken it.

I didn't even try it on. I just bought it, because it had sufficient fabric to cover us up and it saved me a trip to another store. Amen. The fact that it was on clearance just cemented for me that it was meant to be.

And if that wasn't score enough, the Rockets just beat the Lakers and we've been hatin' on Kobe Bryant this whole series.

It was a good day!

The truth about the Back Nine

2009-05-11T11:06:00.005-05:00

How quickly time flies. I'm officially in the back nine.

Not feeling so dead sexy anymore, either. Everything (and I mean everything) is enormous and out of proportion. I'm feigning shock (if only to myself) when I, daily, pass a mirror and see that another part, seemingly unrelated to pregnancy, is blooming. Isn't that a delightful way to say it?

A huge compliment right now sounds something like,

"Wow, you're all baby!" or,

"I can't believe your 5 months pregnant already, you're so small." (Followed by an anecdote about you or someone you know to make me believe it.) ...Shameless prompting, huh?

I was at my aunt's nursing home the other day and a precious old lady asked me if I have any babies. I pointed, "that one over there is mine and I have another one on the way."

"I had a feeling," she said with a smile. It was very sweet and good lesson in how to gently approach the subject when you're not sure. And, considering I'm so clearly out of the closet, it was the cutest thing I'd heard all week!

I had to go to the store and buy some old lady sandals. Two weeks ago I dusted off some old kitten heels that I had not worn in four years just for a change. But I kept thinking of that kids' show Olivia, where the pigs are walking around on tip toes. I was afraid that I looked as absurd as I felt, and decided it wasn't worth the tripping hazard. My flip flops will do if there's not much walking, but I now need something more supportive for my rising dough feet. So when you see me strutting in my I heart Comfort sandals, just know that I'm under no illusions of dazzling anyone with my style. It's all much more primal right now.

And I've got to get some decent sleep. If I'm not up peeing, I'm flopping around trying to get comfortable. I disregarded the advice not to sleep on my back because it cuts off my blood flow, blah blah blah. (I can deal with a little light-headedness) until I read of my own accord that back sleeping also slows down digestion and can bring on hemorrhoids. OK, so now I'm scared straight, (that subject being a fate so disastrous that even doctors and BFFs don't like to talk about it.)

To aid me in sleeping on my side I was lodging three different pillows in strategic places that had to be constantly rearranged. Finally I gave up and bought a body pillow. But its going to take some getting used to because we're up half the night, me and "Stan," wrestling around like a couple of newlyweds trying out awkward positions while my poor husband gets edged closer and closer to insanity. And the couch. I give him another month.

I'm not hinting that I want the bed all to myself. I'm publicly announcing that I wouldn't blame him if he found a more restful spot to hunker down for the next few months.

And that ladies, is my truth about the back nine, minus a few details and specifics that could be deemed TMI for the gentler sex to read about.

Come back next week, same time same place, to read about my next adventure: shopping for a maternity bathing suit with a three year old in tow...

It's all about Big Brother (for now)

2009-05-06T21:54:00.017-05:00

MMA took a day off work so we could all go together for the big ultrasound. We wanted Only Child to be really excited about learning the baby's gender. We talked up the "big day" for a week.

I secretly already knew.

I won't torture you with black and white blobs on the screen, insisting "see right there, that is a shoulder..." You already know what these things look like.

In the car on the way to the hospital Only Child was working it all out in his head...to himself, out loud.

"So, if the baby has a peeper, its a boy. And if it has a princess, then its a girl."

"You're so smart! That's right!"

"Yep, and its a boy...and I'm gonna call him Baby Mack. Or Baby Mater."

"Oh Really!?" (We might have to resort to Mack if we can't agree on a name...)

So, taking a rambunctious three year old to the hospital where we had to park, check in, register, wait with a light-up pager before we got called back to the real waiting room...so we could all do this together...sounds good on paper. (No, not even then?) Only Child was expecting to see a "baby" on the TV screen, so he was duly unimpressed.

I also had a regular ob/gyn appointment right after. My doctor got called to deliver a baby just as I was assuming the position. Did I mention what a long day that was?! The boys had to slip out to find the nearest fast-food-with-playground facility or dad was going to flip out.

The results confirmed that The Sequel is a boy. I pointed out a suspicious growth between his legs back at the ten week ultrasound. But my husband and the doctor both shushed me and said it was too early to tell. They did instill some doubt, but in my heart I knew.

So I let myself admit a couple of weeks ago that if I don't have a girl, I will miss picking out sweet dresses and decorating a fussy pink room. But then I thought about the potential heartache I also get to miss out on, like setting rules and boundaries about dating and makeup and, shiver me timbers, discussing sex with my sweet little girl. (Presumably, dads should have the man-to-man when that day comes.) So in about five minutes I was over it.

There is another specific reason I'm happy he is a boy. MMA has two lovely sisters that would do anything for us, but no brothers. So I thought he would enjoy seeing his sons grow up in relationship that he didn't have. I also think that two brothers together, or two sisters together have the potential to be really close friends; more so than a brother and a sister. I have no proof, just Superstar theory.

So anyway, Girly Stuff, (I would call her my designer friend, but she's so much more than that, really) has offered her services for The Sequel's nursery. The catch (for her) is that I never execute anything to completion, making me her worst client. And what gets done is done under pressure of deadline. Then again, we do have a September cutoff...so let me show you what I had in mind.

It was love at first sight when I saw this nursery at House of Turquiose. It is the handi-work of Megan at Me and Wee. (Check out her sweeeeet newborn baby.) I poured over all the details, thinking, "I can recreate this." But now I'm wondering how that color will do for a boy's room...what do you think? Too girly? I want the color to hold up for 5 years. Hmm. Sure is a pretty, that robins-egg-Tiffany blue.

So finally, on to baby names. We've had the perfect girl name on deck since a super long road trip that we took back in 2003. It's such a great name, that I try to keep it under wraps. Trust me when I say that people I know personally have been the victim of out and out baby-name-stealing! Shameless stuff! Anyway...

Mutually agreeable boy names are more elusive for us. Only Child was named after his dad after months of negotiations...and here we are again: pregnant with a boy, and we can't agree on nothin'! Since we're not of the George Foreman mindset, we have to come up another good name. Which to my husband sounds something like Vito Corleone, or Augustus Ceasar.

We are taking any and all reasonable suggestions for boy names. My husband says I only like white bread names. Translation: strong, classic, no funny business (and I am especially fond of biblical ones.) I don't want anything that sounds overly ethnic or super hero, because, (and I realize this is a new and modern world we live in but) being of my crazy lineage, isn't that enough without having a weird name too?

(Just send your good suggestions for the sake of the kid.)

I guess this post was all over the place. That's about right for me these days.

Let's recap the lessons we learned today:

Don't take kids to the hospital unless they are sick.
Keep your pantry well-stocked with cute genitalia euphemisms; its like keeping your gun on safety.
Mom should always trust her instinct.
Dads should take turns, and let the Moms name one.
Mother's Day is coming...bring your A-game when you wife is pregnant. ( OK, that's a new point; just checking to see if you're listening.)

Prom Queen

2009-05-01T10:15:00.008-05:00

Peep Toe Pumps and Pearls is my cute blogger friend (Jill) who is everything girly, pink and uptown. She invited me to participate in a little self-hazing ritual, she calls the Prom Queen Post. (You post your prom picture and everyone gets to laugh at your big hair.)

I laughed out loud when I saw Peep Toe's pictures because no one was immune to the Glenn Close hair that took over! She and I are close in age and we're both from Houston...let me just say that prom in Texas, in the 9o's, was all about big permed hair and sequins. Think: beauty pageant gone terribly wrong.

And just for fun here's a link to the pop music charts from the year I went to prom...Yes, I do remember dancing to MC Hammer in that dress. I probably left a trail of red sequins everywhere I went. Do you remember being eighteen and dancing to Baby Got Back (and feeling it?) Maybe that was just me. I can only laugh about it because, to the best of my knowledge, no video evidence of this mayhem exists.

OK, laugh away, and then post your pictures!

I'm going to tag:

Girly Stuff

Chasing Imperfection

Miss Priss

Stay At Home Dad 101

Circling the Square Table

Mamas, don't let your Babies grow up Apathetic

2009-04-21T23:59:00.019-05:00

We went to lunch at a local eatery on Sunday. It was a nice day to share some family time over a couple of fish tacos. We were seated, then we waited, and waited, and waited until two waitstaff had a discussion within earshot about who would be taking care of our table.

Finally, we heard which one would be taking us on, and he sulked over to ask what we would like to drink. I felt instantly irritated by this young expressionless zombie...what my mom used to refer to as a "dead fly." I had one or two friends that were the kind that never looked her in the eye and only spoke (as little as possible) when spoken to. I learned early on that Mom was not impressed by a distant "whatever" attitude, and it was just easier not to bring those kind of kids around.

"No, I'm a monster. An aloof monster." "I can't live without you. Look at me, I'm dying."

And honestly, "dead flies" don't have much to offer in the way of companionship, anyway. Bella.

In college I worked in restaurants. I never considered it too much to offer a smile and a sincere greeting. I was, after all, expecting something in return for my outgoing service. The better you are at convincing the customer that you care (even when you do not) the more money you make. Instinctive right? Just a good life lesson, right? And aren't there easier jobs to be had than slinging food if you're pining away and can't even muster a smile?

MMA sensed my contempt, because he instantly offered up consolation and told me not to judge this inexperienced kid on his demeanor. "There is no ill-will there, he's just part of the Apathetic Generation," he says. Then he goes on to explain that he's not being polite or impolite, he's just speaking in the generally accepted (mono) tone that kids understand as normal."

What? So, aloof is the new norm and that's OK?

MMA has always been my culture coach, being far more hip than I.

Maybe he's right and I'm expecting too much (from the service industry!?) because it seems everywhere I go, I run into young people with their heads down, voices barely audible and their faces devoid of expression as they take my order, bag my groceries, and sell me things. The customary "thank you" [for your business] is clearly from a bygone era.

At the risk of sounding way older than my 35 years, I can't stand that our kids won't open their mouths anymore...not to say something nice or something not nice; they just don't open their mouths anymore!

This apathy-plague is not a question of competency. How many proud parents have I met who lovingly enumerated their child's academic accomplishments while I secretly speculated that the child was mute? Then, you find that the kid can speak, but word-conservation is way cooler, so usually you get a slow "yes" or "no." Is frivolous conversation dying?

Kick me the next time I complain that my three year old won't ever shut his mouth, because when he hits his teens he may decide that talking went out with Obama. And eye contact is overrated. He very well may kill me with Apathy! (New House Rule: saying "whatever" is equally punishable and equivalent to dropping an F-Bomb.)

As our meal unfolded, we were able to slowly lull our waiter out of his coma. (That's right, we warmed the waiter up.) And despite his best effort not to, Only Child did make him laugh. Physically, he can smile and carry on a conversation. No, he didn't know what Pontchartrain Pasta was, but he did offer to go find out if I wanted him to (I'm rolling my eyes a little bit...but MMA assures me that it was not his intent to be lazy or rude.)

To be fair, there are some great kids out there who haven't lost their ability to articulate through a conversation with old-fashion pleasantry. And for those outgoing, eye-contact-making kids who are not afraid to risk a little emotion...the sky is the limit! I have to imagine that a little personality sets you apart when you are of the Apathetic Generation. (I'd leave 25% for that.)

Is this happening because electronic devices that we sit in front of and carry in our pockets all day have a sedative effect? Or maybe the texting generation has evolved to a level of communication in which symbols and abbreviated speech supersede human warmth. What seems blase and mopey could read as passionate yearning to the 21 and under set. (You saw Twilight, right?)

Now, somebody please just shoot me, because I AM the crotchety Old Lady on a rant about "teenagers these days." Oh the misery!

Double Chin's Back! (for a limited time)

2009-04-18T19:54:00.012-05:00

This changing body is so gimmicky. "Oh, there goes my waist!" It's been done so many times, and the day-to-day changes so predictable, that I no sooner notice a new itch or an ache and I'm reading about it on my weekly Babycenter email updates.

This is a well-oiled miracle going on inside me, folks and I'm just a vessel. And a vassal.

Speaking of those emails, every week they give me an approximate baby size. This week's estimator compared the baby to the size of a turnip. A Turnip!? Does anyone under the age of 80 know what a turnip looks like (or even tastes like for that matter.) Turnips went out with the Great Depression. How about, the baby is approximately the length and weight of an iphone...

I'm just saying.

I got a haircut the other day and I kept looking in the mirror to figure out why I looked, not right. I knew it had nothing to do with my asymmetry; which is my favorite thing to obsess over. No, it was something else. It took me while to figure out that my already round face is starting to take on a pumpkin-like quality. And my normal haircut is sitting on a huge head that I don't altogether recognize. There is a familiarity there: me plus thirty.

And I've already given up on looking at my butt in the mirror. My mind's eye already knows my horizontal width and I don't need any horrific images stuck in my head for last leg of this race.

And don't you find that the eyes can play tricks on you? I pulled out a pair of panties the other day fully expecting to wear them, only to find that it wasn't even close. I held those little trouble makers up, examined them closely. Yes, these were the same panties that were a joy to wear (three weeks ago.) They hadn't noticeably shrank in the dryer, but apparently that's what happened because I haven't spread so far so soon.

Hmm...not that I can see.

I saw a very pregnant woman (with a small child) in the grocery store the other day who was all done up: hair, nails, an outfit that took some thought to put together. I wondered where she gets the endurance to make an effort like that so close to the finish line. Then, later in the week I came across a mom with 3 month old twins, (she was also looking cute) and I said to myself, "Finish line? There is no finish line!"

I'm in a life marathon and I won't get my second wind for about a year. Help! I need a Red Bull, because my husband won't let me drink wine anymore! I'm having to sneak Diet Cokes when he's not looking. Jeez!

It's only month four of the great life transformation and I'm already rationing energy and sanity. I can't imagine menopause has anything on pregnancy. Inexplicable fits of rage and/or tears? And then what do you do after lunch? At least by menopause my sweet darlings will be able to fix their own sandwiches, leaving me some time to compose myself.

I'm compiling a list of things to do to make myself feel good during pregnancy because, doing God's work, while a beautiful privilege, is also quite taxing. Maybe you, clever friends, can help me add to this wish list. Maybe someone very close to me who is known for generosity will take note.

1. Pay whatever it takes to have someone else clean my house
2. Date night
3. Someone with more will power will make the dog and the Blue Bell disappear (no questions will be asked)
4. The men in this house will use ONE change of clothes per day. ONE.
5. A vacation before third trimester (while I can still stomach a bathing suit)
6. New Sofas or new Countertops *

*I will entertain either as my push gift.

What else am I forgetting on this list? I mean to ask high.

I asked my husband if he would rub lotion on my feet every night for the rest of the pregnancy, you know, since I'm doing all the work. And do you know what he said? "Every night?! That's alot. How about every other night?"

I can't get no respect!

So maybe that's how often I'll cook dinner! Beenie weenies if you're lucky, baby.

Thank you very much! Don't forget to tip your waitstaff! Have a great night!

F is for Frisk

2009-04-07T17:49:00.006-05:00

I was feeling a bit cheeky so I decided to give a fun little maternity top a whirl. This was given to me by a good friend, Katy, who's got a wild side. (And who doesn't?) In our youth, long before we were moms, and even before we were "legal" Katy and I used to sneak out (sometimes on school nights) to participate in one kind of mischief or another. She was the sweetest, most thoughtful life-of-the-party you could ever meet and we had so many adventures before the age of 21.

Katy would give me the shirt off her back, but instead she gave me this little number. And if this cute little wife-beater doesn't say "classy" then I don't know what...

MMA doesn't appreciate it as much as I do. Oh well, my friendship with Katy is even older than my friendship with MMA. And I get it.

And what else are you gonna wear when you're this dead sexy?

It

2009-04-02T21:19:00.011-05:00

I am officially and undeniably knocked up! And my cozy state of being is all askew and I don't feel like myself anymore. (Nooo, not the person who used to earn a living, and not even the person who came after that...)

My regular clothes don't fit and the maternity stuff looks deflated. Guess what part of me is not deflated? Besides my tummy? We're talking floatation device and its seriously throwing me off balance.

When said-British friend told me I was bloomin', my mouth started watering as my mind wandered to the blooming onion in a Homer Simpson moment. The appetite is roaring. The sense of smell is supercharged. The bladder...well, the bladder's not really pulling his weight. So at four am, after three nocturnal pees, I have seriously contemplated the merit of adult diapers. But its just mother nature preparing me, right?

Maybe the lack of peaceful sleep has put me on a hormonal roller coaster. Mostly its elation, but sometimes I go off on people like yesterday when I told my neighbor to "stop face-booking with my husband so much. God!" That was uncalled for and I will apologize if my kid doesn't get sick from his kid. My husband is also the beneficiary of many unprovolked pleasantries and might be wondering how to escape before too long.

Don't feel too bad for him, though. MMA is cock strutting amongst the roosters on our block. A few months ago at a guys' poker game, before the origination of this pregnancy (but close enough to make the story good) he foretold that when he decided it was time for us to have another baby, I would be pregnant. I can imagine the caveman wordmess that went on. Or perhaps he did his Master Yoda impression for the boys, "Do or do not...There is no try." I'll give him his fifteen minutes but virility does not exempt him from middle of the night duties.

And then there's Only Child. I'm starting to feel some kind of strange betrayal and empathy for him.

He knows a baby is coming, he knows this is going to be exciting...but I know he won't be prepared for the reality that he's going to have to share me forever and he won't even get an equal cut at first. He's already noticed that I don't pick him up as much as before and I've been too tired to play with him as intently as we used to. Yes, I know there's so much joy to look forward to, I just hope he doesn't feed the baby to the wolves before he falls in love with it. Maybe I should start ignoring him now, you know, to build up his endurance. (And not at all because I'm worried about my piece of pie.)

All silliness aside, I'm so thankful for all the joys that come with being pregnant and the promise of a new little life. I'm excited and happy and desperately anxious to know if "it" is a he or a she.

And my wonderful husband just went to pick up a movie that I've been wanting to see so its good night, and you stay classy.

Little Woman Interrupted

2009-04-01T11:30:00.005-05:00

This is a scholarly discourse on Pie and where the hell I've been.

I'm still alive and luxuriating from the intermission of blogging and everything else that doesn't absolutely require a piece of me. That doesn't include the husband or the three year old. They get theirs, believe me...

I remember Me Time prior to being a Mom. It was called every-second-of-the-day and I took it for granted because the "Me Pie" was more than enough. There was also more money to play with as I recall, but I digress.

MMA was afraid you might think he did something sinister to prevent me from blogging this long and has beseeched me to resume, "the sooner the better," he said. With an overly needy child in command of the house (who somehow manages to stay up every night until just minutes before we collapse in bed) it seems my husband learns most of what he knows about my day the same way you do. And he misses my alter ego online.

Well, for nigh a month now (and can you tell I'm fresh off a corset book?) I've been too tired to do much more than throw an occasional load of clothes in the wash and cook a simple meal. I find myself moodier than ever and reclusive. I just want to sleep and watch Dancing with the B-listers and reality show Stars and eat popcorn followed by a bowl of Blue Bell ice cream. (And shamefully, I've even been too tired for tricks and more than once paid full price when I knew a deal was within arms reach if I had, but a little more effort to put forth...) This is me, flailing. And hoarding my piece of the pie.

And watching my belly "bloom" (as my British friend puts it) and my face break out doesn't help me feel particularly outgoing. But OK, breaks over, I'm ready to shine again.

I will share my good news with you tomorrow...(feigned sigh) if I can manage the strength...

I will say this: sometimes its good to indulge one's self, but in general, with pie, sharing is better. And the more the merrier.

This is How I Roll...

2009-03-06T17:15:00.015-06:00

Last Friday, MMA sprung his Lent intent on me last minute. No beer and no meat on Fridays until Easter.

Ergggh!

I might have balked a little bit...I can't remember. Shopping was done for the week and did not include the bare necessities to make a proper meatless happy hour.

But I love how Superstar rises to a challenge. (And on reevaluation, decides to use her domestic powers of influence for good and not evil.)

Sushi came to mind. Hello, Chirashi. Just gimme a bowl of perfectly sticky rice topped with an assortment of sashimi, maybe a little pink ginger flower on the side. That's my kind of sacrifice!

Alas, we live in a suburb that is home to nineteen Mexican restaurants in spitting distance, but no safe-to-eat-raw-fish. And I wasn't about to drive 20 miles to Central Market with a feverish preschooler last Friday.

So I thought I'd surprise MMA with with (more doable) shrimp and California rolls. I've been doing test batches of sushi rice lately and decided to take my newly-honed skills to the next level and build something.

I give you, Superstar Sushi Rice
(This size batch makes enough for 4 nice-size rolls)

1 cup sushi (short grain) rice
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
1/8 cup sugar
1 and 1/3 cups water

First, rinse the sushi rice until the water runs clear. Then drain the rice in a colander for 30 minutes to an hour. Next, add the water, sugar and rice to a pot and bring to a boil over medium high heat. Once it boils, turn it way down and simmer, covered, for 14 minutes. No peeking. After that, remove it from the heat, put a towel under the lid and let it sit for more 20 minutes. This helps it reach the proper stickiness. After 20 minutes, transfer it to a bowl and fold in the vinegar.

I made our California rolls while the rice was warm and I found the nori to be easy to handle that way. There are lots of rolling techniques online, but there is nothing difficult about it. You just spread the rice, line up your fillings, roll it up and enjoy. I have two minor tips: I wrapped my bamboo mat in plastic wrap to keep it clean (but I think you can easily make do without a mat.) And, a little bowl of water to wet your hands keeps the rice from sticking to you.

My fillings included shrimp, crab (actually it was "krab" but like I said) avocado, julienne carrots and cucumber, and of course, wasabi. Oh, I also toasted up sesame seeds to sprinkle on top. My rolls were so big and fat, two were a meal! (And MMA now finally realizes the extent to which he married up.)

My mind is bubbling over with promise of so many combinations. Like Panko fried calamari and sweet potato. Or veggie rolls with plum sauce. Or spicy fried tofu, cucumber and green onion. What about a Greek inspired roll with humus and olives? I'm still thinking locally available ingredients, mind you.

I should have attempted rolls much sooner. The most complicated thing was getting the rice right and now you have my test-kitchen method. Happy Friday!

Demolition Day

2009-03-02T15:42:00.005-06:00

Today we are actually getting started on a remodeling job that has been in the pipeline for five years; since the day we bought our house! We are busting down walls and creating an upstairs game room out of an extra bedroom. (And by "we" I mean Javier and his work crew pictured below.)

There are four bedrooms in this house. There is also downstairs office with a proper closet and a full bath. That's too many places to sleep and not enough places to flop around and watch TV or spread out toys. Although Only Child doesn't like to be by himself in the downstairs office, (now serving as the playroom and the first thing you see when you walk into our house) we imagine one day he will want a place of his own to entertain while the grown ups occupy the downstairs.

The new game room was originally used by MMA as a workout room. He put huge mirrors on all the walls, equipped the room with free weights and machines and installed a nice stereo. Even I thought it was pretty sweet. Sadly, all that was too noisy after the baby came along, so the man cave had to move to the garage. Where, he moans, the Christmas decorations are edging him out for space. (Don't feel too bad for him, he's got big plans for the garage BUT, one project at a time.)

Did I mention that we are not DIYers? We're not. He doesn't like to spend his weekends doing home improvement projects...I don't like house work. We'd rather pay someone to do these "chores." (Hence, this project was a dream for five years...and the house can always use a good once over.)

What catalyst put this project into motion, you wonder? I'm glad you asked.

Hurricane Ike caved in a ceiling in an unused bedroom and the carpet was trashed. Next door, Only Child's bedroom had water damage and the carpet needs to be replaced. We've spent the last several months getting the roof, then the interior damage repaired and finally we're ready to replace carpet. We decided to replace all the upstairs carpet. But we didn't want to replace the carpet knowing that we'd have to replace or patch it once the game room was build out. So, we decided to do the game room before the carpet.

Then, my uncle emailed that he would like to pay us a visit from France. This is my father's brother. When I was fourteen, I spent a month with my Uncle and his wife traveling from from his home in Grenoble, France to Budapest, Hungary where my father was from. It was an adventure I will never forget, and during that trip, he promised to be there on the day I got married. Well, he kept that promise and gave me away at my wedding; Dad had died a of cancer a few years before.

Can't-very-well have an honored guest staying in a guest room with no carpet...So, it was the perfect storm to push this career procrastinator (two of us) to FINALLY pull the trigger.

I'm so glad it worked out this way. Talk about Win-Win And now you're privy to more than you ever cared to know about our family and how we live and the house that we are slowly growing into.

Note: During demolition Javier discovered a gas line running down the former closet about where the guy's knee is. So they had to rip into the sub floor to reroute it back through the wall. And, all that junk is still sitting there from when the last construction crew had to get into the attic and replace the insulation that got wet. I'm torn between putting the junk back in the attic and putting it on the curb. (Huge Christmas tree up for grabs.)

Sick Days are...

2009-02-26T15:14:00.006-06:00

Sick Days are all about learning things you didn't know about your family.

Our little one takes to any kind of music that he's exposed to and his recall is amazing. His repertoire includes all the classics.

It's not unusual to catch him singing bits of Beetles songs, Elton John, or Frank Sinatra. You'd crack up if you heard him singing Pancho and Lefty. At night we make up lyrics to Brahms lullaby to sing about what we did that day. Well, I guess he's got an ear for contemporary music, too...

Only Child woke up with a little fever, so we ditched school and decided to lay in bed all day in PJs. But that was only fun until about noon, and by then we had read his new Big Backyard magazine cover to cover, watched plenty of TV and played with all the upstairs toys.

We were getting hungry and Tasty Time with Ze Fronk gave us an idea to make popcorn with nuts and dried fruit. We have a rule in our house: if you're sick, you get to eat whatever you want.

The Tylenol was kicking in and things were looking up. Being silly in the kitchen, one thing led to another, and I busted out with a few lines from Blackeyed Peas "My Humps."

Only Child stops me and says wide-eyed, "Mommy, that's the song the clown was singing when Daddy took me to the mall. I like that song."

I was puzzled, yes, but we were having fun, so I didn't dwell. He already knew the "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk" part. Which freed me up to be just Fergie. Minus the vulgar jeans, with slightly tweaked lyrics, but I was feeling it, sure.

I was playing to the BEST audience. Lot's of giggles and applause.

A little later, after we ate our snack he says, "Mommy, sing that song again that I like........and this time wiggle."

["Say what!?"]

I can't wait for Daddy to get home to explain the clown and the mall and what a three year old knows about wiggling.

Devil inside, Devil Inside

2009-02-23T11:02:00.002-06:00

Did you see that sweet little cherub-faced child I spoke of last time? His head started spinning on me yesterday. It was frightful. We had our first big out-of-control tantrum and by the end we were both crying.

(No, I mean like a, "Call in the Doctor" kinda ordeal.)

We had a busy day on Sunday, so we got an early start. I guess his exhaustion had been mounting over the weekend because naps were missed and he had some late nights with dad while mommy was out with friends Friday and Saturday. Rare occasion, trust me.

So he fell asleep in the car on the way home. It was late afternoon and things got crazy in the blink of an eye. He was such a wild animal to get out, I had to enlist the help of MMA, because I feared for my safety, and his. MMA had him in the football hold and I remember seeing little feet and arms going in every direction. 35 pounds of flailing boy is a force to be reckoned with.

We put him to bed where he proceeded to scream, jump and claw like a trapped fox. I am sure the neighbors must have thought we were skinning him. His behaviour was scary and I had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

So he had the meltdown of his life while running around his room pushing over furniture and toys, pounding on his chest...he even peed in his pants! It was surreal, creepy, manic. I think I saw some foam forming at the corners of his lips.

Realizing that the 200 lb dresser is not bolted to the wall, I was afraid to leave him.

These are things he actually said...

"Mommy, what's happening to me?"

["You have been possessed by an evil-spirit, my child."]

Mommy, I am scared! Make it stop!

["I'm not you're mommy, I'm Anthony's mommy. Where is he?"]

"Why am I shaking like this? It won't stop."

[Will the sign of the cross burn him? "The power of Christ compels you."]

"Help me Mommy! Make it stop!"

I jest now, but the tears were welling up at the sight of my little guy taken over by this horrible monster.

Finally, in exhaustion, he gave in to being changed and rocked and the slow deep breathing came over him. Then, like he had was waking from a bad dream, he turned to me and said, "Mommy, what was that?" And a few moments later he was asking for food and smiling that sweet smile all over again.

Holy Hell, ladies, what was that??? Experienced moms of the world, don't forsake me now.

Sweet Nothings

2009-02-19T17:05:00.002-06:00

With all the kid sadness going around lately, I just want to pinch my little guy's cheeks to red and plant kisses all over his round little face. Which is not so round anymore since the baby fat rolls are gone. But, he won't let me hold or cuddle him anymore. On rare occasion that I manage to land a few smooches, he wipes them off and tells me that I am not to give him any more kisses.

"We'll, see big talker. Not such a big boy when you wake up in the middle of the night crying for mommy, are ya!?" (Actually, that doesn't happen anymore, either.)

I just have to face it, the baby is all-grown up. He's big enough to take advantage of our weakness for his persuasive charms. Like when he needs help climbing a tree -- a new passion-- he'll play the "I need help 'cuz I'm just a little guy" card. Loves to call himself "little guy." (Is manipulation instinctive for pretty people?)

My big/little guy has a hairdresser and her name is Jessica. She's this pretty little thing that gives her FULL attention and laughs at his jokes. Its a big day at our house when he gets a haircut. I can twist his arm to get whatever I need, lest I threaten to cancel. This last time, I assumed my usual position next to him in the chair. And he told me "Mommy, just go sit over there," pointing, no, dismissing me to the waiting area. (Do all men instinctively gravitate to eye-candy?)

Little Guy is a nude monger. He strips himself completely bare at nap time and calls himself "Naked Baby." He then proceeds to make requests in the third person. "Naked Baby needs his blanky. Naked baby needs you to close the closet door. Tell Naked Baby a story about when you were little." But don't you call him a baby or you'll get told. (OK, I get that being naked is fun when there's no shame in your game.)

I've been down lately about my house still not being put back together from Ike. There are still a few projects that stand between "complete" and where we are now. And there have been days that I can't remember taking the time to play or laugh with my boy. Some days are a blur of harsh words, timeouts, and spankings.

I must remind myself that I can't get today back or whatever day it was that I moped around my house too spent to do anything productive. We're all healthy. MMA is gainfully employed. I adore those two. And I am just really thankful for everyday things like fussing over my healthy, egotistical little boy.

(Who just asked "Mom, could you go get some goodies from the goody bowl and share 'em with your little one." How can I say "no" to that?) Maybe I can trade him some candy for the option to run my fingers through his curls.

A Tale of Two Chips: Mommy Cuts, Part II

2009-02-15T16:28:00.007-06:00

"Denny's has the Best Nachos ever!" M&M said at Girly Stuff's Superbowl Party as I helped myself to seconds and thirds of all the cheesilicious dips that she had brought.

My ears instantly perked up.

"Really?...Denny's?...I would never think to order Nachos from Denny's..." I think I said.

So today after church, MMA decided we should go, (where else?) to Denny's for breakfast since we rushed out of the house without eating much.

Since it was technically after noon when we sat down, and since I never order anything but breakfast at Denny's, I decided to live a little. M&M knows her way around a tortilla chip, so I figured I was in for a treat. Besides, one of my favorite foods of all time are ballpark nachos and I hardly ever make it to an Astros game anymore.

Oh, I like the kind of nachos you can get anywhere with the processed cheese food, canned jalapenos and round chips in a plastic tray. But if I'm at Minute Maid Park, I am magnetically and inexplicably pulled to the deluxe nachos every time. The deluxe start out like regular nachos, but then they are slathered in chili taco meat, sour cream, salsa and served with a spork. The first few bites are heavenly, but from there, the whole experience goes downhill, fast. I should know better by this stage in life...

My husband forced a half smile in my direction as I dove in. He was trying not to judge my choice. I did not care, anyway. The monster mound in front of me was my muse for the moment. Huge, sloppy, cheesy and just greasy enough, Denny's nachos did not disappoint!

I ate about half the plate when the urge to run to the bathroom started to kick in. That was my cue to stop eating. The mind was willing but the flesh was weak. I told MMA to go pay and don't look back. I thought being left alone at the table and pretending to myself that he would drive off without me would be the only way I could pull myself away before things turned........ugly.

He said gently, "No, I'm not in any hurry."

Unspoken expression runs so deep between long-term partners. I looked at the half-devoured mess on my plate and back at the one who sat across from me. A man who has seen me at my best, at my worst and like today in chili-stained weakness. I looked at him grateful to be loved in this condition.

"Why did I order these?" I asked as the churning in my stomach became audible.

"You love to hate yourself," he answered, without a hint of judgement. He just said what was, at that table in Denny's today.

I began to nod in agreement as he brought to my attention that what I was actually eating, were Minute Maid Deluxe Nachos.

"Gasp!" The room was spinning as I started checking off familiar ingredients in my head. Twice the portion. Half the price. But these were the very same nachos made famous by Aramark. They love me and they leave me...burning, every time.

They found me because I couldn't come to them. If distance makes the heart grow fonder, maybe their new-found accessibility (right in my own backyard) will cure me of this tormenting affair. One thing is for sure, we can't go on like this.

Excuse me, (pant, pant) I need to take care of some private business!

Makes the World Go 'round

2009-02-13T16:58:00.000-06:00

Every where I turn someone is talking about money, either directly or indirectly. We're all so consumed with how we spend it. If we're saving enough of it. Where our next dose of it is coming from. Its all money, money, money, lately.

Not surprising, really, with the media shoving recession-fear into our hearts every time we turn on the TV. Its fair to say these are tough times for a good number of Americans, but isn't that true anytime someone loses a job or can't pay the bills?

We are not above the money talk around here. MMA and I have had our own meeting of the minds several months ago to make sure we're on track for today's circumstances and planning for the "what ifs" that could be around the corner. It's not fun to consider scary things like losing a livelihood or medical emergencies. But...

Once you've done what you can to take care of your family, the rest is in God's hands. Not that I want to be a homeless martyr, but every thing we own, including our house, is dispensable. (Did I say that? Crap! I like my stuff.)

Warning:
Political Commentary
Turn away as needed

So what about this massive stimulus bill?! Can anyone tell me exactly where this nearly 800 billion dollars is coming from? I don't disagree with pumping money into the economy right now, but if its on the condition of printing more and more of an ever-depleting dollar, I need help connecting the dots. Maybe there's an ivy-league economist who can explain it to me.

I'm so cynical about how these things work. How many FAT palms will be greased on the road to helping the average American keep their head above water? We heard very little about the fat that slipped in with this bill, so apparently the media is on board.

(And, honestly...is it understood in Washington that our days of involvement in the war are numbered and that that money is being quietly diverted back home? Too little coverage has me worried that this economy has created the perfect excuse to speed up the exit plan. What is the exit plan? I pray its not, "we can't afford this anymore, we're out" or worse, a de facto withdrawal that leaves token soldiers behind to be slaughtered.)

Can you tell I love to hate the media's biased coverage of all things political?

It's Hope and Change one day, and Gloom and Doom, the next! My three year old reminds me when I slip up that "hate" is not a nice word. So I love to loath the media...actors who sit behind a desk! Talk Soup has more journalistic integrity than the networks! (Fox, you're no better, you just happen to see things my way.) Its really about advertising dollars, isn't it?

Back on the Home Front

Let's talk about real lives and adapting to the "end of the gilded age" as Nightline dubbed it last week. [Rolling my eyes.]

Well for one thing, my new rule is that I don't pay full price on anything anymore. If it ain't on sale, I can wait. If doesn't go on sale, I don't need it.

Remember my post about turning tricks? I'm pretty proud of this new skill. Some weeks I spend only $40 or $50 on groceries (when the freezer is full and I plan our meals based on my stockpile.) Other weeks I spend the full $100 dollars but those are weeks that I buy wine, stock up sale items or splurge. I don't feel like we're making any major sacrifices, I'm just more careful in general. And I haven't paid for things like toothpaste, toilet paper and shampoo in months by following blogs like MSM and SOC. (These ladies are also in the know about how to get free magazine subscriptions, dinners out, even free undies from Victoria's Secret!)

My new favorite find is Shortcuts.com and Cellfire.com which are paperless coupon sites that allow you download coupons to your cellphone or Kroger card which are automatically applied at the store. You can double dip by stacking the paperless coupons with clipped coupons and that's how you can get things free. Since I started using these sites, my target price for a box of cereal is $1 or less. This is fun for me, don't judge!

I had a reality check around the holidays when I looked at my pantry stockpiled with lots of free or almost free foods that we just don't eat and I had to acknowledge that I'd taken things a bit far. It doesn't matter if I get instant potatoes for 12 cents a box...we don't eat instant potatoes! We donated bunch of perfectly good food and my shopping is now the wiser for it.

One casualty in all of this is spontaneity. I don't call MMA on shopping day anymore to ask what he wants for dinner. I don't buy $5 pints of strawberries just because they look good. We eat what is seasonal and on sale. Meals out are planned. Brand loyalty went out the window, too. I still buy MMA his precious Mach 3 razors, but he has to use them until their dull enough for Only Child to play with, then we recycle them as a toy...Wanted to see if you're still listening.

How is money driving your life these days?

On Parenting and Marriage

2009-02-08T17:00:00.013-06:00

I have taken to antagonizing Only Child for my entertainment. Sick huh? I think I'm doing this out of some sort of passive aggression over his recent demanding behaviour and smart mouth.

He started attending a new MDO in January where he's in a class with "older kids" (4 year olds) and all of the sudden he's telling me off and acting like a brat. Of course, I'm not even considering internal factors from our idyllic home that could have contributed. I'm eager to point the finger at the school, society or someone else's ill-behaved child for contaminating mine. I'm not letting him slide (much) and the constant struggles are wearing me down.

So to infuse a little fun, I started doing this thing where I read his Dora books with a Rosie Perez accent. I get my inspiration from Click the Camera. Only Child gets so mad and hollers at me to "Stop that!" and "No, you're not reading it right! Read it right, Mommy!" Eventually he will snatch the book and slam it closed...He knows there is no "w" in Dora.

Now, I can't stop doing it. I laugh; he gets mad. Eventually he starts laughing, too and then he's mad that I made him laugh when he's trying to be grumpy. I know I shouldn't tease my child, but its so much fun!

The first time I exasperated him with my linguistic-comedic-genius everyone was laughing and MMA was clowning my version of a Puerto Rican accent, claiming it was awful and only sounded right to me (like my singing, then?) He secretly finds it sexy.

One of MMA's favorite Dad-fetishes is the hot little number, Genevieve from Choo Choo Soul. She does five minute fillers between shows on the Disney Channel where she is hip hop dancing and belting out bad kid tunes aboard a make-believe train. Check out her body of work on You Tube if you're not already familiar.

Dad goes ga-ga for her ticket-taker outfit that makes her look like the featured entertainer at a bachelor party. Seriously, I think it has velcro up the sides. He says she's extremely talented and our son agrees. Our house comes to a complete standstill when Genevieve is on TV.

And, somehow we decided that she was Puerto Rican -- I think on account of the hoop earrings and the accent. So Disney is really onto something that could potentially improve my marriage and my parenting skills at the same time.

I wonder if the boys in my house would listen a little better if I sport some big 'ol...........................................................................hoop earrings.

Now on to the Duggars

2009-02-05T17:37:00.010-06:00

I can't jive with the Duggar family, either. My reasons are very shallow.

I don't watch the show because I find myself screaming (inside) "Stop having kids already!! Jim Bob, for the love of God, please leave that poor woman alone!"

First of all, can one mother care for all of those children? The older children have had adult responsibilities put upon them because of the parents' choices. Doing chores and helping around the house is a good thing for kids. But should it be on the kids to do all the laundry, all the cooking, all the cleaning. I get the impression that the kids handle the chores so mom can be fresh for her dates with dad. And they are serious about their date nights!

And who, pray tell, gets up in the middle of the night to feed the always-present infant? I suspect the older kids are on night-bottle-duty because Michelle and Jim Bob have to sleep sometime.

OK, home schooling. I was a teacher once...how can one person home school all of those kids? Its a full time job to teach one subject or one grade level, much less fifteen kids of different ages while caring for toddlers and infants. I can't understand how even a mediocre effort is possible. And yet, the kids seem well-spoken and admirably polite.

My neighbor pointed out to me that Michelle is now in her forties and the odds are much greater that she might have a child with Downs Syndrome. Being educated people who have already been blessed with many healthy children, I wonder if that risk puts any weight on their heart.

I know that there was a time when agrarian society made large families more practical. But that time is long over and I don't get it in this day and age. Religious explanations don't add up for me either, because in my interpretation, God wants us to have quality over quantity in our family structure.

In fairness to the Duggars, they do seem to be a nice family. I like their soft-spoken humility. Obviously to them, more is more.

I see a family that big and I think, having SO many takes away from your ability to do for the ones you already have and clearly love. Health care, higher education, the occasional dinner out...geez! Makes my head spin.

Example: I did a quick estimate in my head and came up with $2000/day...that's how much it would cost to take a family of twenty to Disneyland. Per Day! Can you imagine? OK, so maybe they don't place the same value on taking their kids to Disneyland as I do. Or maybe they do want frivolous things and that's why they do the show. Or maybe they do the show just to put food on the table, and in that case, what about families like the Duggars who don't have a show?

In fair disclosure, I come from a big family. There are seven of us kids. I have no ill-will about being from a big family. I liked that our house was never quiet and there was always something going on. Our family vacations were modest and still wonderfully memorable (usually road trips in our VW pop up van -- sweet.) But I always knew that I would never want more than 2, maybe 3 kids.

I guess my background makes me especially critical of the Gosselins; I am a product of public schools but not public assistance. And they're so shameless about soliciting the handouts. Oh, they could do it on their own, with sacrifices that they are not interested in. And if we're comparing apples to apples, both families make a living in the same way.

So back to the Duggars and a show that seems to glorify having all the kids God and a body will allow. But, what about the hardships? Can they do even one "real" episode where preteen daughter throws a hissy fit because she can't have the latest jeans that everyone else her age wears. Or fifteen year son old tells mom and dad he's going on a date so they'll have to watch their own kids tonight. Even the Bradys got out of line every once in a while. How about the episode where mom reveals she has to use adult diapers after all those babies. Again, I say, there's no reality in these so-called reality shows!

One last note, a blog called Tom and Trix Plus Six does a great parody of both shows complete with avatars. And I thought I was too involved...

My Gosselin Prediction

2009-02-03T20:55:00.011-06:00

The prediction? They're on their way out. We loved them back in the day, but now they're just another showbiz family. So unless the 'tups kids can sing and dance...

I was forewarned that this subject has already been much-blogged about. But I have to say something about Jon & Kate Plus 8 and how reality TV has taken the reality right out of their lives.

I watched on occasion; never faithfully. Once upon a time, MMA and I liked to giggle and watch as Type A mom manages her eight, make that, nine children. We were amused by the chaos and constant motion of their household. And, admittedly, watching the show made us feel better about our day-to-day parenting and marital struggles.

Now I'm kind of over it.

One day I turned on the show and realized that their day-to-day lives have become a blur of all expense paid trips, speaking engagements and celebrity perks, one after another. Kate makes no bones about it. Her family brings attention where ever they go, and that attention is a marketable asset.

"So, you want to put braces on my twins? That will cost you $14K apiece and we'll need your office as a green room during filming... You want us to stay at your hotel in Hawaii? You will have to fly out our family, extended family, and entourage of hired help and discuss the incidentals with our attorney... Sure, we can do a segment where we "shop" in your store for the show...and you will provide us with a year of groceries in exchange...and we eat only organic, by the way."

Now, on the one hand, who can blame them? They've got eight little bodies to Gymboree and people were going to peek in their windows anyway, (or so Kate has said on the show.) And now both Jon and Kate get to be stay at home parents with one additional responsibility: managing the family endorsements. They are not unlike the Jackson Five; they are the Gosselin Ten.

But on the other hand, its not as interesting to watch Kate march around a mansion with fancy highlights and a nanny two steps behind while she barks out orders and belittles her husband who now has no where else to be. Their life was never normal, but you have to admit the oh-my-God-how-will-they-do-it? factor made them more interesting. And with all the responsibilities of starring in a popular reality show, how much time is really devoted to the kids and how much goes into the family business?

Kate is a first-class stage mom, who reserves the spotlight for herself. We know how meticulous she is...whole shows have been dedicated to her obsessive behaviour. But that was comic relief, because no one is really that organized, right? Particularly not a mom with eight small kids, but she managed to have tight systems in place and bake homemade birthday cakes and sneak in numerous trips away with her husband before the big-money days. Now that Kate has willed and clawed her brood into reality show stardom, just think of the pimped out closets this has afforded her! Now she can match the kids every day of the week in...whatever celebrity moms dress their kids in these days.

It's become sort of a bizarre, Nick at Nite meets Dynasty with lots of unnecessary drama and at least six well-behaved kids; Mady, or Kate, being the Alexis-tyrant on any given episode.

But now that we know how they manage, (the family, in particular, the children, have been leveraged to afford the lifestyle they desired) I don't find them as endearing anymore. The kids are precious, don't get me wrong. I sincerely hope that their fifteen minutes doesn't haunt them later on down the road.

Jon & Kate's new house (check it out) is nothing short of a compound, very secluded, on acreage and is reportedly worth 1.3 million dollars. They've come a long way from the welfare days. (Those sextuplets have been worth their weight in gold, if its not to brassy of me to point out.)

It was a good ride. I enjoyed watching over the years, and look what a franchise they've become...

And now some delusional broad has just had eight babies by in vitro! You can take the girl with big dreams of turning her womb into a moneymaker out of the Jack in the Box... (And ya, if you have 14 babies without a man in the picture that pretty much makes you a "broad." Sorry Ms. Schmidt*)

O no, not again!

2009-01-27T17:56:00.001-06:00

Did you catch that cover of Oprah in the check out line this month? Fat Again or some such headline caught my eye. Her story in her own words.

I turned on the TV last week and there she was describing her predicament, "Well, I decided to talk about my weight because I know everyone else is talking about it..." You know how she does when she shakes her head and speaks in that fake southern accent and hyper-emphasizes her expressions.

Let's go O-ver this. Humor me. Remember the first time she exploited getting skinny 20+ years ago? Remember the skinny jeans and the boots...I think I was in middle school. Then, she "did it" the good and healthy way and decried the evils of diet pills and sold the new methodology. And now, this? It's like deja vu, except, she really did already walk this road, very publicly. And she's exploiting her weight, again?

I wonder if she fell off the wagon on the advice of her accountant.

Here's the irony of the situation: now she's decided to make money on "the before" and she doesn't even have to put in the work, except lip-service. Is she so worshipped and are her words so credit-worthy that she can cash in on being overweight in America, of all places in the world?

A few observations:

It's like selling ice to Eskimos.
Oprah is a brilliant profiteer.
This really is the land of opportunity.

And we know that whatever she's doing doesn't stick. Thankfully she's not falling back on the food-addiction bit. She acknowledged that she knows what to do, she just doesn't want to do it. I O-ppreciate that.

If I could do what she does, and create an industry (worth millions) out of my weaknesses, then I'd control the world and pick the next President, too.

Ohhh, did I really say that? Of course she didn't pick the President, but her words are resoundingly influential. Remember when the beef industry rose up against the Oprah-industry because she said what she said and (they thought) she cost them a fortune in lost red meat sales?

Can you imagine your words being so revered?

"Great people of America, today I am going to tell you about being a slovenly, messy home-maker. Walk with me as I invoke the experts to teach me to become a fit, fabulous, super-do-it-all mom. Let's do it together. Buy my home making products, read my blog (and thereby support my faithful advertisers) and we will conquer this great problem together..."

(And please contact my agent if you think we can profit on the likeness of my adorable child. He can model for Walmart, if they pay better than Target, even though I truly prefer shopping at HEB.)

Who will be my Gail?

Silly Stuff

2009-01-26T09:08:00.004-06:00

In response to Tooj's Board Games Gone Blog, I have all the answers. (I love board games, too!)

1. Things you shouldn't do with glue

Fix your split ends.

2. Things you shouldn't touch

If you are a guy, the "B" word, or the "C" word.

3. Things you'd like to do with chocolate

Melt it and dip things in it.

4. Things you shouldn't attempt at my age

low cut jeans/skinny jeans (they flatter no one, but teen-agers don't know any better.)

5. Things that should have an expiration date

Grudges

6. Things you shouldn't do when you are naked

Ride in the back of a pick up truck, Tubing down the Guadalupe, Bungee jump...should I go on?

Silly, Silly! Have a great week!

Soul Food and Conservation in Texas

2009-01-23T10:41:00.010-06:00

I am so excited to share a story with you that will feed your soul. A true story that is so amazing, its hard to imagine such a thing could really happen. But it did and it happened in a small town not far from where I live (and not many years ago.)

I'm talking about a DVD that was given to us for Christmas called The Heart of Texas. It is a documentary that recreates the story of a couple of families brought together by God to demonstrate His awesome power and love. It is a modern day Job story.

OK, so I said modern day. The characters don't lose camels or develop boils, but they experience heartache and loss in the most profound way. But through faith, their lives and pain are used as instruments for God's purpose.

Does anyone want to see how God can and does, in this day and age, work miraculous feats through ordinary people? I have a copy and I want to share it! (Is it wrong to bootleg so that more people can experience this?...hee...hee.)

I AM being intentionally vague about describing this DVD, because I don't want to spoil it for anyone. I hope you watch it...this is the most decadent kind of soul food!

My thoughts
I was just asking (out lout) some "whys?" earlier this week. I heard such a great viewpoint in this DVD about how the family quenched their thirst for answers. I guess if you ask, you shall receive what you need. But God is not content with giving just enough. Our prosperity is His joy. I believe that, because I have experienced some pain and trials of my own. And I seem to come out stronger and better on the other side.

Well, its a beautiful story and I wanted to share. But that's where I'll stop because I'm called to a different purpose than blog ministry. I'm called to entertain and bring joy by making light of the state of affairs in privileged-suburbia. This is the Jungle and I am Upton Sinclair, or something.

And for my part, I will continue to recycle my milk jugs and my wine bottles and to use common sense to minimize my carbon footprint. I only run full loads in the washing machine and dishwasher. Looking forward, I will strive to make one meal per week that is meat-free because our animal consumption is off the charts and gluttonous. And when either of our paid-off cars goes belly-up (which could happen soon) I will pledge to go with a greener people-mover, no leather. And I am partially motivated by the cost of gas and the size of my pa-dunk-a-dunk and electricity bills and so forth. But I also deplore wastefulness!

And if my train of thought confuses, check out what Girly Stuff and Chacha are talking about these days.

Tag, you're it!

She's my "Laaaa-deh!"

2009-01-20T18:30:00.007-06:00

It's official. The new administration is in the house and Mr. and Mrs Bush are by now on a plane headed back for the Crawford Ranch. They'll probably be dining on King Ranch Chicken, guacamole and margaritas tonight to celebrate...that's how I picture them: laid back, Texas upper crust.

This one's for you, Laura:

Good-bye, Lady. Southern girl, done good! You crossed the finish line and never broke a sweat. The twins are out of college and involved in serious endeavors and respectable relationships. (Chuys shenanigans behind them, book deals and all!)

I admired your style, your charitable involvement and your sense of humor. (I guess you need that when you've married, um, W.)

Good-bye, Laura, school teacher, book-lover, Mom, First Lady. You really did fulfill the promise of bringing dignity back to the White House and acted the part of a "Lady" every step of the way! Hopefully, your successors will learn from your example. You will be missed!

I can't wish my fond farewells without saying something about this significant day. The Democrats get a turn, now. If I was ten years younger and had less life and work experience, I'd say, "A black president, so what." But I know enough (barely) to be amazed at this new era for politics and life, in general. Good for us!

I still don't like big government, but I acknowledge that my party lost its mind and needs to rethink who we are and where we're headed. We need someone with strong personality, with a perfect balance of class and street cred to embody this new identity. If the "Good Old Boys club" days are not completely behind us, shall we say, we're moving in the right direction? I sincerely hope so!

My pick for one to watch? George P. Bush...remember him speaking at the GOP convention in '04? He was dubbed the Ricky Martin of the GOP, or did I make that up? (It's cool, I'm a peep.) His mom's a Colombian princess or something (again, I could have made that up.)

"P" is from the lone line of Hispanic Bushes. (That's lone.)

Pedigree: Check
Law Degree: Check
Ivy League Educated: Almost, Rice U
Minority: Check plus bonus points (because Latin is the new majority, doncha know?)
Hollywood Connections: Does going to high school with Enrique Iglesias count?
Political Connections: Check and Check

I don't know anything about his politics, but I think he could be a promising new face for the GOP.

Good night, and Good-bye.

Everything you ever wanted to Ask but were too afraid to get Answered

2009-01-19T10:19:00.010-06:00

Only Child has been asking me the same question for weeks and I don't have a good answer. By smoke and mirrors, I keep being evasive because he still thinks mommy know everything. I don't want to burst his bubble for as long as possible. And, its sweet to be looked up to like that.

The question is, "Mommy, why does God make thunder? Why mommy?"

Then I say something like, "God made everything. Just like he made the sun and the stars and you and me. So God wanted there to be thunder and he made it."

Then he says, "But why? Thunder is so loud and scary. Why did God make thunder?" (There have been variations, like, why did God make mosquitoes that bite?)

So in a way, I guess he's asking me why God made thunder the way he made it. He's God, couldn't he have made thunder more like a rainbow and mosquitoes more like butterflies?

I have a few questions of my own. Why are life lessons learned by sadness and loss? Why can't they be taught to us in a classroom at Disneyland while we munch funnel cakes and corn dogs and never get obese? Why is there illness and heartbreak and poverty and all kinds of painful things the little guy knows nothing about?

Why do we put so much value on time and money when people and relationships are the real treasure? Why is faith so difficult when its so much harder to run on the alternative fuel? Why am I so often blind to the obvious? What purpose does guilt serve in anyone's life?

Why does my kid ask so many hard questions? Asking lots of questions is my game. Maybe I'll teach him to turn his curiosity into something productive like sarcasm.

How am I going to keep up this know-it-all charade? Clearly I know much, much less than a fifth-grader. I can barely work a DVD player, so how am I going to convincingly answer his questions when he becomes a teenager?

Why is thunder so loud and scary?

Dear MMA,

2009-01-16T09:17:00.005-06:00

Husband, as you know, laser printing has been your business for over a decade. During your tenure, we have been without printing capability at home for about 5 of those years (on and off.) Case in point, remember the time you snatched the printer from our home because a customer wanted a good used work horse just like it? As I recall, I didn't get another one for more than a year. I had to borrow (gasp) an ink-jet from my SIL to hold us over. The cobblers children, as they say, go without shoes.

I know, you do not sell laser printers, per se, for a living. Still. I know you are the kind of man that takes care of your business. I bragged all about it here. Let's pretend I am your customer and I need to place a big, big, order. But this order is contingent on having a machine to print with.

Please hook me up with reliable at home printing so I can continue to turn the fabulous money saving tricks at the store which require me to print online coupons. Its a hobby I enjoy and it anti-costs us money and I missed out on some great deals these last couple of weeks.

If an all-in-one fax, scanner, printer were to make its way into our home, I would treat it like a member of our very family!

Signed,
Your Superstar

One finger says to the other...

2009-01-13T16:40:00.001-06:00

I've been busy making my bathroom all nicey, nice. You'll see soon.

And another thing, do you know what today is?
Not my birthday.
Not my anniversary.
Today is the day you show yourself.

Who knows the source of this little bit?

"We're going streaking. Through the quad...C'mon everybody!"

Me: Nasty Girl!

2009-01-12T17:04:00.009-06:00

I'm in a funk. I can't seem to get it together. My house is a mess. honestly, its more than a mess, its dirty. It's so dirty that picking up the broom to sweep seems to be more about stirring up dust than doing anything productive. That's the truth I'm telling myself to keep from cleaning.

We are in the middle of "projects." A friend charitably referred to it as "remodeling." That's a stretch but I'll take that excuse. I'm so not motivated to clean or make my home presentable until its all done. There will be new carpet and tile (and that can be messy,) so its going to be weeks before I can make things right. Why clean in the interim?

Isn't it amazing how fast one can fall into the downward spiral when one knows that chaos is inevitable? Amazing how fast home sweet home can degenerate into crack house sweet crack house. I'm stepping over piles instead of picking them up because, why move them once, and move them again?

That's incredible lazy, isn't it?

I am lazy. I keep a yucky house. I'm a nasty girl!

"Only Child, put that used rusty needle down right now!"

This is a cry for help.

Leave the mess for two more weeks? Or push my lazy a$$ to clean now, clean in the middle and clean when its all said and done? A once over might make me feel a little better.

Maybe I just need to slum for a while; y'know, sow some wild oats and live on the wild side. I can always clean up my act when the house is all put back together. Right?

I'm bringing Fridays Back!

2009-01-09T17:00:00.000-06:00

Ready to get your Friday on?

You ready?

I'm bringing Fridays back!

Our Friday night cocktail hour has gone astray with the holidays turning every day into an occasion for a cocktail, or three, as it were. But tonight we're back!

MMA's been working late all week because business is good and we can't complain about business being good in this economy. So I made a special trip to the store to pick up appetizers for our first real happy hour of 2009.

So for those of you in need of a happy hour at home, but not knowing where to get started, I thought I'd share our menu for tonight and I'm technically talking about food, and its Friday, so I'm back on track. Friday, food.

Here goes:

1. Turkey meatballs from the deli, which I'm going to throw in the crock pot with some beer, picante sauce, bbq sauce and whatever else sounds good.

2. Boiled shrimp, they were big and on sale and I love boiled shrimp; don't you? I make my own cocktail sauce with ketchup, horse radish, garlic, worcestershire and fresh ground pepper. Oh, and a splash of lemon juice.

3. Chips and salsa. I have a new brand to try called "Wholly Salsa." Which has no preservatives and claims to be like home made. I'll be the judge of that.

4. Guacamole, made from scratch. (All though, dang it! I'm out of cilantro.)

5. Grape tomatoes, cheese, olives, wasabi nuts, hummus and crackers (fillers.)

6. Shiner for the man of the house, cranberry & vodkas for me. Wine if needed. Capri Sun for Only Child.

Hope this gives you inspiration for a Friday night happy hour of your own.

Go ahead be gone with it!

Mysery Solved!

2009-01-08T16:45:00.008-06:00

Does anyone else get mysterious grease spots on their clothes? Especially on your shirts in the front where you might mistake them for evidence of sloppy eating?

But then, trying to be more careful at the table, and knowing that you did not soil your clothes while eating, the grease spots continue to puzzle you? Because its uncanny how they show up on even your new clothes, ones that you were extra-protective of...

I had a revelation today. Two actually.

I have a greasy orange stain on my right shoulder. The sniff test revealed it to be a Nacho Cheese Dorito smear. Cool Ranch, yes; Nacho Cheese, not so much. And anyway, as you know, I'm stayin away from that junk

Hmm. Only Child ate Nacho Doritos just before I spanked him. He jumped into my arms, cleaving like a baby koala, and cried into that very shoulder. Seemingly heartbroken. Jedi mind tricks in play, I momentarily felt bad about spanking him. There was monsterly behavior that warranted a spanking (and a puny spanking it was, at that.)

Conclusion A: greasy little hands caused greasy little spots on 1/2 of my working wardrobe (i.e. the good T's.) I used to love wearing the color white. And khaki. Nowadays I'm always wearing black. Go figure!

Conclusion B: He adores me when I spank him. When I try to reason and ask nicely, I get the pay-you-no-mind response, or worse. But when I spank, he responds according to my wishes and as a bonus, I get to cuddle with my too-big-to-cuddle boy.

Discussion:
I refuse to postulate about the damage spanking does to his id or his ego. The kid is plenty confident.

I'm the one with the Pavlovian treat at the end. And the schmears on all my clothes that say, "kid-whipped." (And it does hurt me more than it hurts him.)

Results:
Spank as needed and buy more Spray N Wash*

*Interesting Footnote: I never even knew what that was until 3 years ago...

I'm Baaack Bitches!

2009-01-06T22:56:00.001-06:00

Yes, that was unnecessary profanity (which MMA abhors.) I'm a huge fan of Dave Chappelle and that seems like a Chappellism, right? But there's never a good occasion to bust out with "bitches" live; otherwise I would. So, I thought I'd sneak it in, but by qualifying, it loses the edge somewhat. I'll work on working it in some other way.

Does anyone remember the "Krazee Eyez Killa" episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm? Where Larry (caricatured old Jewish man) gives Krazee Eyez Killa, a Rapper, material for a song he's working on? We loved that one until our DVR, of its own initiative, weeded it out of our TV library. I would link you to the You Tube video, but its far smuttier than I remembered and this is a family blog.

It's so awkward to hear people like Larry and I slang and slur and try to be hip. But, I digress.

I've been away so long I was afraid I would lose my conditional readers. Here's the thing, my computer went haywire exactly one day after I said "Honey, maybe you should back up those digital pictures to the external hard drive. You know, the one my bro got us over a year ago." Fate had been toyed with too long, and a comment like that must be appeased.

One day later I was feeling nauseous at the prospect of losing all my digital pictures out of sheer carelessness. Then, Super Ricardo (names have been changed...) came to my house and CAME TO MY HOUSE and with his valuable skills, saved the day. Way above and beyond, he went! I would like to send him a gift certificate so he can take his lovely wife to dinner sometime, (if I only knew the name of his favorite restaurant...if I could only get a clue from an anonymous commenter.) I would be SO thrilled to show my appreciation to him. It was a near disastrous situation and I really am grateful!

And, I'm back up and running! I've missed blogging, so.

My decorator and I have been hard at work picking out paint colors and fabric for my bathrooms. Now we've moved on to mirrors and fixtures. This is a special kind of decorator, bitches (just doesn't flow, huh?) She sent me home with presents: a new shower curtain and hooks which I love infinitely more than if I'd picked them out myself, because, now they're "designer."

I felt so important walking around the stores with her doling out professional advice. She's really good at tactfully redirecting me when I start throwing around garish suggestions. If I could just get her to act a little more pretentious in Hobby Lobby, so people would know she's the designer, it would fulfill my delusions!

How's everyone doing with the 'ol resolutions? I will admit that on my first day after the New Year's break (I know, a break before I even got started) I went to Chick Fil A...for Only Child's benefit, of course. Isn't that always the excuse? Someone else needs something and I'm wearing the next size up?

So maybe the resolution should not be about eating better, maybe the promise should be about making my well-being a priority, rather than letting the to do's dictate my day and giving myself the greasy left-overs: figuratively, literally.

I could also hone my time-management skills so I don't cry "no time." Work them out, flex those muscles. I haven't kept a calendar of my own in almost three years! All of my appointments and important dates are written on the tacky calendar on the wall in my kitchen. Sloppy. That's about on par with going to the store in sweats and slippers. (Been there.)

But I'm better than that. Tomorrow we start over.

I'm made Pad Thai for dinner (with no MSG.) Only Child said "thank you for making this Mad Pie, mommy. I really like it!"

(Heart Smiling) Good Night! Stay classy, San Diego.

Happy Birthday, Lee!

Holiday Lull

2008-12-31T16:45:00.005-06:00

Goodbye '08; I miss 'ya already! We loved you well, but are looking forward to the new year.

What's going on in the Girldom for 2009? Let's see...

Girly Stuff, my BBFF, ("B" for Blogging) is a soldier for home beautification...I think she dreams in projects and wakes up in the morning to realize them. She has some real life good stuff on the horizon that I'm sure she will be divulging soon. Her creative innards may implode with joy.

Did you already meet the Queen of Themed-Trees? Miss Priss has a collection of twelve amazing trees that she shared during the month of December. As a result, my tree-lust has me prowling for post-Christmas clearance sales. I want to bump up my collection for next year. And you gotta get up pretty early in the morning to get a head start on Miss Priss.

So if you find this set of trees at Target, grab it and buy it for me. You know who you are who have access to the less picked over Targets...

Thinking about my trees brings us back to Superstar, where we belong. I have a question that will require our collective genius. This is a real design dilemma, and I think I know the answer, but I am hoping someone can figure out a way for me to keep one pretty little prelit Christmas tree in my dining room year 'round.

Is there ANY scenario whereby this would be acceptable? I've already bought it and its so precious that I can't bear the thought of putting it in the attic and waiting a whole year to enjoy (or nine months since I'm on the professional schedule for Christmas 2009.) Still, that's a long time to wait.

What if I put little Valentine hearts on it come Jan 1st? And then I can put little Shamrocks on it for St. Patty's, and I have a string of Easter egg lights on deck...Yes? No? I've already retained a decorator, so I have to do what she says or she'll quit; she doesn't do it for the money. (She's asking "what money?" right now.) Help me convince her to say "yes" to a tree in the dining room.

We have one more little party to attend tonight. Our neighbor is hosting a New Year's Eve celebration and kids are invited to attend in their PJs. It will be fun, and I am looking forward to it. But then the festivities abruptly come to an end and I'll be crushed.

I like to hang on to the "holidays" by the last thread. I'm the kind of girl who feels a little sad every Sunday night as the weekend comes to a close. So, I hate when Christmas is over because I want to keep the good times rolling. I hate that people are already flying home and saying good-bye. I hate the depression that sets in January second, when it still feels like the holidays, but it's technically not the holidays anymore. (See, so I need a Prozac-tree.)

I do have some good things to look forward to. We are getting our upstairs bathrooms stripped of hideous wallpaper, textured and painted. Then we are replacing carpet and turning an extra bedroom into an upstairs game room. This requires knocking out walls and is something we've talked about since we bought the house five years ago. It will be great to contain Only Child's loot to a game room and reclaim my downstairs again.

Normally I never let visitors go upstairs because I'm so messy. My goal is to be less junky and purge the stuff that we don't need or use. I want to be 10 trash bags lighter by the end of January.

Additionally, we are adding whole foods to our menu and cutting out the boxed and processed junk. This is going to be a tough one because we love convenience foods. I still need to iron out the exact goals, but I am ready to feel less sluggish and eating better is the easiest way to fix that.

And, this is the year that I read every book! I missed it by half a book this year, which I may still read, but it won't happen by tonight. This year we are reading:

The Thirteenth Tale

The Shack

The Little Children

Merrick

A Line Between Friends

And if you want my reading selections, here are a few books that I truly enjoyed:

The Lovely Bones

The Kite Runner

Pillars of the Earth

(*Pillars is silly and long, but fun to read)

That is all! Happy New Year. Over and out for 2008!

Nuns do '80s & '90s

2008-12-29T21:27:00.008-06:00

The Feisty Nuns have been at it again. We just observed our annual December fete which is when we exchange books for the coming year. (M&M and I are still lobbying to drop the "book" facade, but the ranks will hear none of that talk.)

In previous years we have had cookie exchanges or gone out for dinner and drinks. It's pure merriment, whatever we do. Since I happened to host this time, I called for a theme (because, who doesn't love a costume party?) specifically "High School Flashback Night!" Isn't Picky a lovely girl?

I've never had so much fun in the foyer. It was giddy amusement to greet each girl at the door and see their interpretation of the "look" back in those days. Picky was the only one able to unearth her clothing from the era (a sweatshirt puff-painted with her name and hearts all over.)

No problem for the rest of us, though, because with time, our old clothes have become new again. Which means pret-a-porter -Target, in case you want to recreate your own glory days. Too bad it's all cut for a 'tween body (and by tween, unfortunately, that does not mean between motherhood and 40!)

So jolly were we after a few strawberry wine slushies (tried to recreate the sustenance, too) that I didn't even mind that the time frame was blurry. Our high school years straddled the decades yet our outfits were a morph of 80s icons: Madonna meets the Heathers at the Breakfast Club. Tell me that these sweet little Guess shoes would not look hot with acid-washed jeans with a little zipper down the ankle! (Or tight-rolled.)

I donned absurd amounts of mousse and gel and gave my flat-iron the night off. I'm only now appreciating that fifteen years ago when everyone else was paying good money for spiral perms, I had one au-naturale. However, I didn't use nearly enough product back then and the result was a four-year blur of frizz. I only started figuring out my hair in college and then the Rachael-cut was taking off and I almost missed the boat. Just one of the many ways I could have been living large if I knew then what I know now...

And if only I had known that I would be lucky enough to hang on to friends like Girly Stuff, M&M, Red and Picky after all this time I could have saved myself so much angst, frustration, and hassle that comes with adolescent friendships that don't last and can be especially harsh amongst the girls. Why didn't I know then that no one is cool at seventeen because we're all too worried about what everyone thinks of us?! And how did I manage to keep with such a fine group of people? It can't be coincidence or luck. (I'm not just drawn to crazies.)

A word about the inspiration for my outfit.

I bumped into a lady at Chick fil A a few months ago. We were both with our kids and I noticed her familiar face, but it wasn't until later that I could place who she was: an acquaintance from high school.

She was then, and seemed to be now, the ever-perky, always made-up, Southern debutante-type. She was the quintessential high school social climber. Pretty, coy, perpetually campaigning, pragmatic. Looking back, she was already poised and on the hunt for a husband at an age when the rest of us were just leaving behind dolls. And she knew then what we're still learning about men, if you know what I mean.

So when I was planning my outfit, hair and makeup, this young lady, as she was then, became the alter-ego that I set out to recreate. My inspiration, if you will. So, I had to laugh when GS looked at a couple of us dancing and announced "y'all look like you're on birth control." I had embodied my mistress.

So it was a success. And I have to thank M&M and her husband for nailing the music of our youth. That was a huge contribution to the festivities! I chose the same snacks Picky and I used to sneak off campus to eat and I think Picky actually ate (which almost never happens.) And while it was fun to be that girl for one night, I have to say that it's way too much work for this lazy girl.

Don't get me wrong, I like to party; but not in pinchy shoes and lots of make up.

Can you imagine being a teenager again? What from your high school days are you most happy to leave behind? What do you like to relive?

Merry Christmas, Friends

2008-12-24T09:41:00.003-06:00

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. I hope the joy of salvation is celebrated in your heart!

We're in the middle of a couple of busy days. But good busy -- full of family visits, food and fun. How can you not love this time of year? The smells, the cookies, the music, the innocence of believing in magic.

It may be a while before I get to say "hi" again. So enjoy your Christmas and count your blessings. And say a little prayer for me that Santa and UPS make it here on time!

Stream of Consciousness

2008-12-19T14:44:00.009-06:00

I'm going to let you in on nothing in particular, today.

I feel so uninspired to talk about food, and that's not like me. I haven't seen the inside of the gym since before Halloween, so that after-the-fireworks shock has set in sooner than usual, maybe? I won't bore you with woe about my mid-section, since we both know what I can do about it.

I think blogging is a microcosm for real-life relationships. I've got this whole circle of blogging friends, now. People that I don't know in real life, but we "talk" all the time via comments. I also have blogging acquaintances: we know of each other and if we happen to cross paths, we smile and say "hi," but we're not reading each other daily. I've also got blogging friend-of-a-friend situations like, Mother Hood who came over just to say "hi" on my birthday.

Angie at American Homemaker, who has some fab recipes, made me think of all this microcosm business. I have personally tried her Pumpkin Oreo Muffins and her Ham and Spinach Roll Ups. Loved 'em! The best thing about her recipes is that they are so accessible. "Accessible" is a thing wine snobs say to mean "even you screw-top drinkers will enjoy this one." Well, I mean to say that even you non-cooking types can manager Angie's recipes. Many of her ideas start with a box of cake mix and turn into something wonderful and new. She comes up with all sorts of semi-homemade goodies a la Sandra Lee.

Sandra is, in my opinion, the real man's Martha and much craftier. So is Angie. Check her out, she keeps it real.

Oh, so I was headed to the store to pick up a few things and I was thinking about trying one of Angie's recipes, but I couldn't recall all the ingredients. A thought suddenly popped into my head that I'd just call her cell and ask what to buy. Then I remembered (just as suddenly) that I don't really know this person. She's a blogging friend, not a friend in real life. (Don't worry, blogging friends, I'm not going to go cross country and One-Hour-Photo you. )

I forked over the money to buy Only Child a Lightening McQueen lamp that he spotted at Ross and asked so maturely if we could buy. Normally Id say something like, "let's wait and see if Santa gets it for you," but I felt guilty for dragging him in there for the third time this week. We had to find a pillow for The Micker, long story, but it was a successful hunt. I was feeling cheerfully generous, and let him have, it no strings attached. And as an added bonus he went right into his nap with no fussing. So these $7 finds are the reason we keep going back to that (spit) store.

Does anyone else have a Love/Hate relationship with Ross?

The thrill of the hunt is awesome. The wading through clothes on the floor or picking up one pillow and a dozen fall down...that's the price we pay. And I know that Ross ain't trying to be Nordstrom. But every Ross is trashy. Not so much at Marshalls and TJ Maxx. Is Big Lots more upscale in the world of close outs? Because if I was a manager at Big Lots I would not appreciate being compared to Ross.

Just like Walmart, Ross is the third world of shopping and they've got the pigeons in the parking lot to prove it. Do pigeons like a good deal, too? How do they know?

Yet I can't seem to love them or leave them. I know I'm not the only one.

Ross!

One memorable trip to Ross occurred around the time Only was being potty trained. He told me he had to go, number 2. The bathroom had a closed sign on it. I ask if the bathroom was working, because I've got a barely-three-year-old that has to poop, right now. Hourly employee tells me to do what I need to do and walks away.

I explained my predicament to a nice lady shopping outside the bathroom and she went to get a manager. The bathroom was not closed because of a malfunctioning toilet. It was closed because there was no toilet paper to be had in all the city and the shipment from corporate (where Ross gets all of its toilet paper) had not come in. I caused such a stink ( ha!) because, while a hole in the ground is sufficient facilities in many parts of the world, here in the first world it is not. I was willing to argue, threaten to write letters, and raise my voice, lest some paper product be produced to wipe my kid's butt.

I even suggested we use a shirt off the floor, since it had so many basket skids, it couldn't be sold.

Meanwhile, nice shopper lady asked around until she found someone willing to part with a few baby wipes. Just as we were washing our hands and leaving the bathroom, the security guard came running back with some toilet paper scored at the CVS next door. Seems they had TP all along.

Is there a moral to this story? I probably don't want to hear it, but if you read all my ranting you get to say it.

Heather, your request is coming soon. I'm too sluggish to find the camera just now.

Rachel, you'd better not leave town without calling me!

You're too kind

2008-12-15T17:55:00.009-06:00

A big thanks to Girly Stuff for reminding me how silly and spirited I was as a kid and for showering me with the love and attention my star so requires. (Too bad I wasn't born with her common sense.)

We graduated from high school in the early 90's; those were days of big hair, red acrylic fingernails and all things gaudy. The gaudier the better.

Check us out in our over-the-top prom dresses. I think I can see Picky's reflection in those frocks. My sister made that dress for me so that I could have exactly what I wanted, but I am responsible for the design. And for that side up-do straight out of Napoleon Dynamite.

How was my birthday, you ask? Well, MMA and Only Child treated me like a queen all weekend. MMA brought honor to our family name by submitting his opponent at the jiu jitsu tournament on Saturday. I got to do a little guilt-free shopping for myself. And, we managed to sneak away for a dinner date on Sunday, thanks to Aunt 'Niesee. It was a great weekend and birthday.

Thanks for the calls and well wishes! I love you people! I love being thirty five. I still love that dress and I'd wear it for my high school flash back party if I could. Alas, it is history, along with the excuse "baby fat."

Psst, Dan, (my prom date) where ever you are...your old truck from high school has been found and he's done pretty well for himself. It landed the role as "Isabella's truck" in the new Twilight movie.

Oh, GS even arranged for my prom date...and we're still all over each other's business! (Me and Girly, not me and Dan.) Gotta love that.

Easy, Pleasy, Cheesy

2008-12-12T15:30:00.007-06:00

I've missed my Friday dish lately, but I picked a great appetizer to share with you that can be thrown together in less time than it takes to get dressed.

My baked goat cheese is easy, pleasy, and cheesy -- in a good way.

I first had this dish more than ten years ago at a restaurant and was told it was retro, then. I knew immediately that I would be reprising it at home. Their version was a soup bowl filled with red sauce and thick scoop of goat cheese was floating on top, baked-up, browned around the edges. This was served with day-old french bread, toasted in the broiler. The warm cheese was soft and spreadable and slightly tart. The marinara mellows it all out and the bread allows for dipping and licking the bowl clean. Not that I would ever do that when I'm home alone.

I made the Muir Glen version of this dish several times (its on the label.) Until one day, I went to throw it together, but no Muir Glen tomatoes were to be found. But what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a jar of Vodka Sauce...oh, holiday cheer!

Ingredients:
2 small logs of goat cheese (about 4 oz each)
1 jar of vodka cream sauce such as Newman's Own

I like to pour the sauce in an 8X8 baking dish (or one that's pretty enough to serve from) and then arrange slices of the goat cheese all over the sauce (and if you figure out how to slice goat cheese let me know.) Usually I end up with little broken balls of goat cheese placed on top of the sauce. Rustic, if you will. Then you bake it in the oven at 350 until everything is hot and bubbly. You can broil it for a minute to make the cheese golden brown, but only if it needs to be fancy. And while you're at it, sprinkle it with something green.

Serve it with toasted baguette slices, pita chips or a hearty cracker. It's too heavy for a wimpy cracker.

I believe goat cheese is probably served in Heaven. Anyone could fall in love with it if exposed to that salad from Ruggles with the goat cheese and apples...know what I'm talkin' about? In case some of you want to make the plain white bread version of this, whipped cream cheese could potentially be substituted.

But that would be like putting cottage cheese in your lasagna or drinking wine from a box -- we've all been there, but look how far we've come. Just make it with goat cheese. It's scrumptious, I promise!

When it Snows in Houston!

2008-12-10T19:09:00.005-06:00

When it snows in Houston, its BIG NEWS.

Hey everybody, it's snowing in Houston! This is our reward for the nasty cold drizzle we endured all day. We were playing outside with the neighborhood kids making little snowballs and snow angels and running around with our tongues sticking out. Too bad it was already dark when it started snowing.

Only Child kept picking up snow and tasting it; even off the ground!

I know that snow is no big deal for anyone north of Dallas, but for us, (being this close to the coast) it's a rarity. Only Child is one of four snow babies on our street; they were in utero the last time we saw snow 'round these parts. This evening they were running a muck, giggling and having the time of their little lives.

I made my neighbors take pictures for me because I was too excited to go in and hunt down the camera. I'll see if I can freeload one to post.

Stay Toasty!

Slow down Superstar!

2008-12-09T22:12:00.004-06:00

No good deed goes unpunished, or so my dad used to say--ruefully. When I was young I thought he was so jaded. And look at me now; I'm twice the cynic he was.

Yesterday was a bad day for me. I am constantly racing around trying to do all the right things. Generally, I like to do the right thing, especially when it involves taking care of people that I love. But, moderation in all things, right?

Yesterday was one of those days...I attempted to get eight different things done, but I really only had time for three (and I knew it! Dammit.) I gutted out six 6 and a half things and didn't do one of them right.

You know those kind of days? I was so angry with myself. Moderation... moderation... why am I such a slow learner? Why do I think that spreading myself painfully thin will make me feel whole? Why do I insist on squeezing blood out of a rock? It doesn't work and it never will.

Deep breath...OK. Yesterday. I got pulled over and I ended up getting five tickets. Yes, five. WTF?!? I didn't think that was possible either, but it is. And I do need a referral for an attorney who handles traffic tickets.

Back to poor, poor, pitiful me. The only way this injustice seems possible (in my mind) is explained by the following theory and true story.

On Sunday, a police officer in Houston was killed when he tried to pull some gang-banger over. The driver ran from the car, hid in some bushes and gunned the officer down.

Maybe this tragedy was going through my police officer's mind when I was getting pulled over. He came upon me so fast and furious that I thought there was an emergency that he desperately needed to get to and I needed to get out of his way. I changed lanes three times trying to get out of his way before I realized I was the emergency.

Stupid of me, I realize. I should get pulled over more often, if only for the practice. But since the guy came flying behind my like a maniac, I thought there was something more serious than nice lady driving too fast.

The officer was spitting fire that I didn't immediately pull over, but took an extra ten seconds to comply. He was probably expecting to find someone more in-your-face than me. But all he got was a petite and polite lady with a car seat in the back...didn't matter, he was so angry he couldn't see straight.

If there was any way he could have arrested me, I am sure he would have. Too bad for him that its not a crime to have enough Capri Sun in the trunk to warrant an "attempt to distribute." So he had to settle for weak citations like "not signaling my lane changes" and "unsafe lane changes" (these are the lane changes I made while he was pulling me over!)

Today is another day and I will have my day in court and I believe in our justice system...OJ finally got his, right?

Let me just say, I'm not a cop-hater and I don't have a problem with authority, but Mr. C E G of HPD, you are a real load!

Yesterday's incident sent me over the edge. I was flustered, angry, overwhelmed. Pissed. Upset. Beside myself.

And why was I rushing around? Just trying to help a little old lady that I love get to the doctor. Like I said, no good deed...

Does anyone remember that I had a premonition in the form of a dream a while back?

We think my dad was possibly clairvoyant. Maybe I've got the shining, too. That and significant stage presence.

Double Knock-Out!

2008-12-05T12:08:00.002-06:00

I love it when good works and good fun come together, especially at this time of the year!

Here's a charity event that I am really excited to tell you about. Let me say that again. I'm pumped about an upcoming mma tournament, [correction, Brazilian jui jitsu tournament] right here in Houston! I'm hoping my own MMA will throw his hat in the ring so I can watch him fight.

Elite Martial Arts, which is the only real game in town for serious students of mixed martial arts, is having a charity event to help one of their own. An Elite student, Mike DeAses, a father to four young boys, is the beneficiary of this tournament. The money raised will help with medical bills related to his pancreatic tumor. That's the good works part of the deal.

The fun part is getting to watch some fiery amateurs like my MMA grapple, scrap and throw down -- so close you can smell the sweat! Kids and women are also encouraged to participate! There will be a "bookie" on site taking wagers and winnings will go to the medical fund.

I don't know about you, but I haven't seen a good "girl" fight...I mean a REALLY good girl fight since high school. Maybe college. In any case, its been a while.

All the action happens Sat. December 13th beginning at 3:30 pm. The location is 10640 Westheimer Houston , TX 77042.

Tickets are just three bucks!!! You can't touch a diet coke at any kind of sporting event these days for $3.

There will be a Karaoke competition with some local champions in that sport. Also there will be a raffle for an X box and other cool stuff, followed by a potluck meal after all the fights.

Doesn't that sound like exceptional family entertainment?

Now I know that some people are against fighting, but this is a sporting and clean-cut way to do it. And as I am learning, men have all this extra pent up fizz that they have to get rid of some kind of way, lest they boil over. Or is that just in this house? Even the three year old needs serious exertion, although here's where my double-standard kicks in: no fighting for Only Child.

I'm not suiting up to fight either. One of these days I'll let MMA recount my attempted-suicidal girl fight back when we were in college. He probably saved me from getting double black eyes, as my opponent had a significant size advantage. If "less drunk" is an advantage, then that's what I had. And I had my Bonfire boots going for me. Does anyone else remember Hurricane Harry's as fondly as I do? Good times, I tell ya...

Ohh, I can't wait for this tournament; I hope to see you there! I'm semi-retired, but could possibly be provoked...

Free Meat...(at Arby's)

2008-12-04T15:51:00.004-06:00

Mmmmm....beef....Homer-want-meat...

Hey, here's one for my male readership; that's you MMA, and I know you want some of this!

Go here for a free Roast Beef Sandwich at Arbys; it says you can print and use it as many times as you like until my birthday, December 14th. Happy Birthday, from me!

'Love myself today!

To give due props, this came from Money Saving Mom's blog.

Waxing and other forms of Female Torture

2008-12-02T17:22:00.010-06:00

Does it make me masochistic that I like getting my eyebrows waxed?

I go to this place called Li's Nails that was recommended to me by a teacher friend. This particular friend used to be in the pageant circuit (yes, we're in Texas) and her nails, eyebrows and everything else about her is always perfectly poised for competition. (Those rambunctious middle-schoolers weren't going to make her look haggard.)

So Teacher-Friend let me in on this one beauty secret. Let me just get it out in the open, Li's is not one of your finer day spas. It is what it is. And what it is, is the kind of place where they ask if you want to do your "moustache, too." (The ambiance is about on par with the tact at this place.) But I keep going back for more.

I like to sit back in their ordinary black office chair and feel the slight burn of the wax before they rip it off my face. Li is usually speaking incomprehensibly to one of her co-workers. It might as well be Vietnamese; I can't understand a word of it, but I find it soothing. If the procedure lasted more than 2 minutes I'm sure I could fall asleep.

I know, I'm sharing all sorts of personal things and I feel so naked. But who doesn't love getting their eyebrows cleaned up? Maybe I should say, I don't find it very painful and overall it is a pleasant thing to do for myself. Is that weird?

My friend's mom had an Epi-lady when we were kids. Remember those machines of female misery? They had a coil of wire that simply ripped the hair out of root off your legs; the logic being that it would grow back softer and less noticeable. We screamed like Banshees! Oh the pain! We were about eleven when we experimented with that thing and I decided right then and there that I'd rather have furry legs than participate in such self-loathing, ever again.

Here I am twenty years later, still torturing myself! I had a baby, afterall. He's three and I haven't gotten rid of him yet...some days that defies logic. The last two days he's been sent to time-out within a minute of getting out of bed. This is no exaggeration. Three can be torture.

I also tend to burn myself almost everytime I turn on the oven. If the scars on my hands could talk, they would say "either: chain smoker, or really, really clumsy in the kitchen." MMA is convinced its psycho-logically motivated, because burning one's self so frequently can't be accidental. (Even a monkey can learn not to burn its self if repeatedly exposed to a hot oven, right? My words, not his.)

Quick mention about my drug of choice: the flat-iron. When you take a shower, then sweat down your back to fix your hair, it can't be for pleasure...maybe with some therapy, I could get on board Team Naturally Curly Hair. Maybe.

Here's my favorite torture of them all. Some of you may be able to identify. You could tell me honestly and without hesitation to just stop the madness and in the next breath, torture yourself in the same way...get your bags packed, ladies, we're going on a GUILT TRIP! Is this a female universal, or am I especially gifted with the ability to burden myself with ridiculous, totally avoidable, and unnecessary guilt?

I'm guilty right now, because my little one is parked in front of the TV while I enjoy some "me" time...he's going through a difficult stage, after all, and needs my every fiber, every minute of the day. (TV watching = Bad mom)

....I'm back. Only Child went to the bathroom and my service was needed there. I would only share this tidbit with good, non judgemental people who would understand. I found myself saying "Anthony, don't flush the toilet, mommy needs to see your poo poo." I can't be the only one, er uh, the only mom who needs to see it...(ChaCha, your day will come.)

Be assured this is not another variation of mommy cutting herself...who else is going to stay on top of the stomach situation in this house?

How do you torture yourself? Misery loves company.

Hostile book report

2008-12-01T00:00:00.022-06:00

I wrote this a while back for the Nuns as this was one of our books this year. Since it was a busy weekend, I thought I'd pull from the archives. This is my screenplay book report. It's a one scene jobby; Superstar carries the whole thing.

If I'm not available, I guess Reece Witherspoon could stand in. (Remember how brilliant she was in Election?)

A Hostile Book Report

by Woman Interrupted

[Read aloofly by know-it-all 11th grader, lisping slightly through braces. Catholic-school-girl get up; knee socks.]

So I read Love in the Time of Cholera, set in turn of the century South America...not the century that just turned, the one before it...and you know what??? It was stu-pid as love stories go. This guy is a Nobel winning author? Whatever!

So, as a teen, the main character, Florentino, sees a girl of fourteen from a distance and starts writing her secret letters, which she, Fermina, answers in secret. This is their only form of communication for years because of her over-protective father, yet they think they are in love [roll eyes]...until she wakes up and realizes how stupid it is to be in love with someone you've never even had a face-to-face conversation with.

So Fermina kicks Florentino to the curb, breaking off their engagement, and goes on with her life. She eventually marries up, snagging a rich-young doctor and they are the "Brangelina" of the So-Carib, if you know what I mean. Dad obviously approves.

But Florentino is a whiny baby who spends the next 50 years pining for her from afar. Or from as close as he can get. Hhut! He follows her life and pines so persistently that he can make himself sick just thinking about her. Maybe he is confusing the symptoms of IBS with being love-stricken. In any case, he hoodwinks many, many women over the years, but never considers marriage, because he's waiting to win back Fermina.

Then, (and tune out if I'm going to spoil it for you) Florentino grows into a dirty old man of the most vile variety. One word: pedophile! But as a testament to his love-letter-writing, we're talkin' mad skills, he manages to win Fermina over again at a ripe old 70-something after the good doctor falls off a ladder to his death...chasing a talking parrot...of all the ways to go.

Have you ever read love scenes that describe the heroine as "smelling like an old lady"? If you don't mind detailed depictions of old people hooking up or reading about deviant sexual behaviors, then you might learn something from this book.

Or, you could just google "death by cholera."

A friend described this book as "plotless." [smacking gum] There is a plot, it just takes forever and a day to materialize. By the time the relationship finally comes to fruition, the fruit is ready for the compost-heap.

And why am I hostile about reading this book?

I kept pushing forward, waiting for the book to live up to the reputation of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but it kept getting stranger and more perverse. I think the author has a few loose screws.

I was forced to admit by the time I finished three quarters of the book and nary a kiss had transpired in this "epic" love story that "spanned more than a half century" that the book was not about the relationship of Florentino and Fermina. No, this was a lesson in how even a creepy stalker, through persistence and patience, can get what he wants if he never gives up. And sometimes, after you work hard to get what you want, its not what you thought it would be.

[Smugly] If I'm not mistaken, there is a child's fable somewhere that teaches that same lesson in about 8 paragraphs.

[Did I mention that the Nun's dropped this book like yesterday's trash]

What He's About

2008-11-29T13:57:00.006-06:00

Today is my last birthday shout out. I couldn't let the 37th birthday of my sweetheart go down without a holla. And I don't mean that Jewish bread, either.

MMA is out in the garage doing one of those grueling boxing workouts I told you about. I can hear the banging and beeping of his various apparatus clocking time and telling me that I have about 30 minutes to scribble.

We made last minute plans not to go out for dinner; no babysitter tonight. All he wanted was for me to make a batch of his mom's lasagna and invite a few friends over, with kids.

And as luck would have it, they can come.

He made it too easy on me. If given more time, (he knows) I would have managed to add 10 people to the guest list and I would have loved it, but crowds and parties are not what he's about.

He's about spending Saturday mornings watching cartoons in bed with little guy and then making us breakfast. I'll have to share the recipe for his House-Special eggs sometime.

He's about Community Coffee with half and half, no sugar, because "good coffee needs no sugar."

MMA's about taking his son to the museum or the zoo and patiently reading all the signs and explaining things to Only Child that I assume he's too young to comprehend.

MMA is about Whataburger, our own wonderful Texas-based-fast-food-for-the-gods: double meat, if you please.

MMA is about pizza, fried rice and sushi -- his three favorite foods. And Blue Bell ice cream. Vanilla or Butter Pecan, but only Blue Bell will do.

MMA is about regular jeans, straight let, slightly faded with age. You won't find him in trendy, dark washed, expensive jeans. He rejects anything stretchy or with contrived bleached out spots. And paying $50 for jeans is really pushing it.

MMA is about keeping things simple, but enjoying nice things. He and his Ipod are never far apart. He enjoys a glass of red wine or a cigar on occasion. When he found a pair of dress shoes that he loved, he bought one in black and one in brown. Now he's got all the dress shoes he's going to need for 5 years or more. He'll pay extra for Sony. He's a Sony guy if at all possible.

MMA is about taking charge when we travel. If we have a plane to catch, he's going to get us there on time, without exception. He can be counted on to keep track of passports and reservation numbers and cash...freeing me up to handle the fun stuff.

MMA is a about taking care of business. Although he's never been my boss, I imagine he's the uncool kind that won't shut down early on the day before Thanksgiving. He's the guy who will make sure the last customer is taken care of across town before coming home for the night.

MMA is all about setting a good example for Only Child. If I raise my voice or say a naughty word or lose my temper, he's there calm and steady, reminding me that little eyes are watching.

MMA is about keeping things good and real and down-to-earth around here. We've really grown up together over the years and I keep finding new reasons to love and admire him. If I get the chance to grow old with this man, it will be one of my life's greatest blessings.

Happy Birthday, my MMA. I love you with all my heart!

Doncha Wish Your Garland was Hot Like Me!

2008-11-23T16:10:00.006-06:00

"Doncha wish your garland was a freak like me?

Doncha!?"

Those are the only two lines I know so I just kept singing them over and and over for the two hours it took me to put this lovely mess together. That one red leaf is bugging me, too. I'm going to pluck it out.

I was peer-pressured into getting a jump start on Christmas this year by my decorating friends. And the Nester was kind enough to put up a tutorial on how to turn 4 strands of that wimpy $1.99 garland and other stuff I already had into this garland. My only expense ($5) was all the grassy, feathery stuff which I picked up at 90% off at Hobby Lobby.

That picture will come down and be replaced by a big wreath. And I plan to put some bows on each end of the garland.

Two questions:

Those are my year 'round urns and I am aware that they are starting to look tired. I'll get to that after Christmas. In the meantime, should I leave them on the mantle or is it too much with the garland?

Any ideas about what I can use to camouflage the fishing wire that's holding the middle up? You can see it in the first picture.

UPDATE:

The Pussycat Dolls are trashy! You already knew that, huh? Imagine my surprise when my sweet little nine-year-old niece rambled off the names of the PD songs that she likes. They failed the chaste test when we tried to watch one of their videos on You Tube and we had to turn it off because those innocent eyes were entrusted to me for the afternoon. Apparently I've been under a rock for the last five years.

This here garland, though, it's family friendly! Thanks for the comments and compliments! I took the advice and made some changes.

I'll be putting the wreath and the pictures of Only Child up after Thanksgiving. But the garland is finished! (I raided all the arrangements in the house to find more stuff to stick in to there.) I can't promise I'll stop messing with it, but here it is.

Let me come over and help with yours?

Meet the Nuns

2008-11-22T16:26:00.003-06:00

What do you get when you put 5 thirty-something women in a jam-packed theater with an average audience age of 14, to see the year's hottest teen-flick??

The Feisty Nuns: Twilight Edition!

It was like being at fun, silly, rock concert with girls cheering, screaming and going wild throughout the movie. We bought in to their excitement. Everyone there seemed to be with a group of friends, just out having the best time. And by the end of the movie, despite having not read the book, I picked my side: Go Team Jacob!

The movie itself was so bad we had to laugh to keep from crying. No wait, we laughed so hard we WERE crying. We were also sweating because it was like a sauna in the theater. But how can you have a bad time with these people?

Let me introduce you.

Picky-my longest running friendship
Picky and I go back to first grade and she is, as the name implies, very selective. I guess we share enough of the same taste to make it work. She's a single mom with 2 great boys and manages to do more for them with less time than anyone I know. She's funny, silly, sarcastic...alot like me, just pickier. Picky doesn't realize how strong she is and how far she's come and how much we love her. (She's in stripes.)

Red - so named for her long red locks
Red and Picky have been BFFs since birth. Before book club, Red was the friend of a friend. Since book club, we've become friends in our own right and I am convinced it was meant to be: we grew up around the corner from each other, went to the same college, both worked in the non-profit world...but book club and having babies just weeks apart sealed the deal. Red is the girl who always does things right (Picky pointed this out to me.) She organizes great parties, always looks cute, and has excellent taste in books...no one complains about Red's books. (Sarcastic and witty is a prerequisite for this group.)

M&M - the chocolate connoisseur
M&M is the woman who seems to have it all. (Only after having kids do we realize that's not possible, but...) she juggles it well. M&M is our ambitious and successful, go-getter -- and normally you want to hate someone like that, but you can't because she's so genuinely fun to be around. Her self-deprecating humor makes it work. We go back to high school and M&M has always had game. I don't try to keep up, I just bask in her pretty-popular-girlyness. (That's her with the big purse.)

Girly Stuff - I believe you've met
This is Girly Stuff's book club and she calls the shots. One wrong word and I could be on the outs. So I'll just say this; I am constantly learning how to be a better person by her example. And she's got me reading again. I thought I'd lost the ability, but no, I can still read!

Betty Crocker, I am Not

2008-11-21T15:02:00.002-06:00

And I have another tried and true recipe to share.

I don't bake very often because MMA is not in to sweets. I'm also impatient about following directions exactly, which baking tends to require. I'm also burn-prone.

So, I reserve the B-word for the holiday season. Something about the weather and holiday cheer gets me in the mood to do the most home-makerly thing I can muster.

I remember my mom complaining that "its too hot to turn on the oven." Back in the day, we had a small house and an old oven that really did heat up the place. In our modern kitchens, I doubt it matters much. But I recently heard my brother say that he "wouldn't think of turning the oven on in this heat." It made me smile to think of the old days and the hundreds of sheets of cookies, loafs of banana bread and all those birthday cakes that the old war-machine turned out (the oven, not mom.)

She was a fine baker and I'm not yet. But I'm trying and learning little by little. So for all you non-bakers out there, this one's for you.

Whole Wheat Banana Muffins
(Also from allrecipes.com and I adapted it over the years)

I only make these babies a couple times a year and when they first comes out of the oven, I always think, "ehh, just OK." But oh, the next day...they get more dense and moist and you'll know you're on to something.

Don't let the ingredients scare you.* I said its tried and true and I meant it.

1 cup white flour
1 cup whole wheat flour (yes, you can use all white if you must)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup sugar
2 medium bananas mashed (approx 1 generous cup)
1 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350.
Combine flours, soda, salt, and cinnamon in a bowl and stir. In a large bowl, cream sugar and banana. Mix in mayonnaise and vanilla. Add dry ingredients in small batches while mixing on low. Scrape down the sides as you go. Use hand whisk or fork, if needed, to break up any lumps.
Makes about 12 muffins and they take 20-25 minutes to bake.

Optional: stir in or sprinkle on top oatmeal, coconut or nuts.

When I was on a health kick I would add ground flax seed to the batter and I experimented with substituting Splenda for some of the sugar. I never threw a batch away, so I guess you could say this recipe is forgiving.

*I don't know anyone like this, but if you have a special someone who thinks he doesn't like mayo, make him these muffins. It's just oil and eggs afterall and he'll love them!

Girls Night Out!

2008-11-20T22:26:00.003-06:00

I get a night out with four of my favorite peeps tomorrow. We decided a few years ago to create an excuse to get together four or five times a year. Now-a-days we have at least as many kid parties between us, but this is our time, just for us girls.

So the Feisty Nuns' book club was born. (And we were without a name until just now.)

A boy from our high school once commented (with a note of disgust) that the girls in my circle acted like "nuns." I'm sure he was just frustrated by hormones and spurned advances. We are all, in fact, nice girls...but, c'mon, "nuns" was a taking it a bit far. I thought that was a funny thing to say, and playing along, I dressed up as a nun that year for Halloween (the habit, the collar and all.) Was that weird of me?

Well, look at my circle, now. And may I say that for a few pious women who get together to discuss books, we manage to have a little fun, too.

We were suppose to discuss Love in the Time of Cholera, but because Queen Bee (Girly Stuff) didn't like the book, we got "told" we would see Twilight instead. I'm really only in this thing for the get-togethers, so I won't be too upset if we drop the books and just become club.

Well, I seem to have broken the first rule of book club...

I'll report back if I think this movie is a must-see.

MMA has already punched in his two cents...according to him all vampire movies are gay allegories and to be avoided at all cost.

By, the way, we took Only Child to see Madagascar 2 over the weekend and we all LOVED IT!

Nonsensical Ramblings on Music

2008-11-18T16:34:00.000-06:00

I don't stay up on pop music unless its from (at least) 5 years ago. So, like I said, I don't stay up on music.

MMA, who is into music, introduces me to much of the new stuff that comes into our house. He is DJ extraordinaire for those famous happy hours and to say he does a brilliant job...that's like saying the sun is cool. Huh? Yeah.

Only Child loves to dance! So it has finally come to pass that I have the dance partner I always wanted. MMA's contribution is the music and the music always seems to compliment the feeling of the night. He even does last call music, which tells me when its time to start wrapping it up and putting a sleepy child to bed.

What happened to the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens? (Now known as Yusuf Islam.) How did such a beautiful voice get attached to such a weird guy? I just love that wind song of his.

I am also a Gordon Lightfoot fan. What is this stuff called? Folk music? It's so mellow and easy. It's easy like Sunday morning. If I had an easy listening folder on my MP3, it would definitely include these guys and the Indigo Girls and Wings. Maybe some Kenny Rogers.

I'm also a sucker for cheesy sounds of the 70s and 80s like the music from the Big Chill, Bee Gees, Donna Summer, Air Supply...Blondie reminds me of riding home on the school bus in elementary. And here's a little family nugget for you, my SIL and I both ended up mysteriously pregnant a few weeks after having a dance-off to ABBA. The resulting little cousins are 3 weeks apart. (Mine's the goof ball.)

Hmm, time for another dance off?

Speaking of music, if my husband doesn't pick up Josh Groban's Christmas CD for my birthday that I asked for last year he will have thrice dissed me. Putting it on my MP3 is an acceptable option...

There's a song in my heart and the words are usually a little off. I get this from my mom and now I'm passing it on to my son. I heard the little guy singing American Boy to himself yesterday when he was playing with his trains (which I've been kind of humming and singing.) I was listening hard because there's this part I don't know the words to, so I wanted to see what he was putting in. It was all cute, nonsensical gibberish until the words kicked back in. His grandmother, watching us from Heaven, and I take full credit.

And, oh man, you should see his/our dance moves...

**Coming up in December, I am going to introduce you to the original Superstar of the family whom I just learned has been cast in a school play! We are so excited!