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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Quirky is as Quirky does

Before my days of Mommyhood, I was told that when that day arrived, I was going to have to let go of some things. I would not be able to stay on top of everyone's birthday, much less plan everyone's parties, and I would not be able to keep my house as clean as I would like.

And my friends like to give me a hard time, because my house, after two children, is still "clean." It does no good to argue with them, as they are convinced my house is "clean."

I disagree heartily with them because, you see, before I had children, I mopped my floors every Saturday. Since I had my first child, my floors get mopped about every 6 months. The bathrooms get cleaned every other week if they're lucky.

My house is not "clean."

My house is, however, very neat.

Yes, I confess, I am a neat freak.

My obsession, you see, is order. Not necessarily cleanliness (although that is just the icing on the cake for me).

Order is my quirk.

or·der [awr-der] –noun a condition in which each thing is properly disposed with reference to other things and to its purpose; methodical or harmonious arrangement: You must try to give order to your life.

And that, my friends, is the definition of Mama. Trying to give order to [her] life.

I'm not quite sure if this is a temperament thing, or if my parents totally screwed me up as a child and this is the result. But I HAVE TO have order or I am a complete basket case.

A while back we had a little shindig at our house with several couples and their respective broods. When the evening was over, the little children scampered around, "cleaning up", and then their parents watched me go behind and organize the toys behind them. When they left, I was literally sitting on the floor in front of the toy box, organizing the toys. Because everything has its place, you know.

And I will be so brave as to tell you that I do this several times a day, but at least twice. At nap time and bed time. I cannot sit or sleep with toys scattered around the playroom, much less the rest of the house.

I confided in a friend one day that the sheep was missing from the Little People farm, and it was driving me crazy. Did we lose it? Did someone steal it? Who would do such a thing? Don't they know that the rest of the farm animals need that poor sheep? My friend, God bless her, just giggled and said, "Really??" (That sheep did turn up again, so you can all breathe a huge sigh of relief on that one.)

I tell you all this so that you can get a clear picture of the agony I've been going through the past few days since THREE toys have gone missing! I mean....can you imagine?

Oddly enough, two of the missing parts are from Little People sets. That right there tells me there's something afoot.

She's been missing since Christmas morning and goes by the name "Tiana." May be traveling with a "Prince Naveen." If you see either of these individuals, please contact Mama immediately.




The angel went missing on Christmas evening. The shepherds are still out in the fields waiting on [her] to appear.




The little yellow life ring went missing the day after Christmas. Sarah Lynn won't get into the water without it.
So being the nutcase that I am, I spent the day looking for these items and making phone calls in an attempt to track them down. 'Cause they're somewhere, people. And I'm not gonna rest until I find them. Literally.

So there it is. That's my quirk. There are many others, but that is probably the most profound.

I love talking about quirks, because it seems like everyone has one. Well mostly everyone. I do have one friend who really couldn't come up with anything any of the rest of us would confirm to be a bonafide quirk. Maybe her quirk is being normal. Which is really abnormal. Hence, the quirk.

My friend, Tara, has a 45-minute bedtime routine, which includes flossing twice.

My friend, Julie, won't let you dry your hands on paper towels at her house. You have to use a kitchen towel. Because using the paper towels is wasteful.

My friend, Jodie, traces words onto her sheets with her fingers while she's in bed.  Not sure if she does this when dozing off or waking up, but that's pretty quirky -- wouldn't you say?  And the most bizarre thing about that is that I do that, too.  I mean...what are the odds of THAT???

I love to find out about people's quirks.  It just really gives you a glimpse into who they really are.  Because it's a little weird, it's not something they share with everyone.  A true friend knows their friends' quirks.

Will you share yours with me?

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree

I've become a little irritated by the apparent conspiracy against me to make me question whether or not I have any genetic link to the children I have bore.  borne.  whatever. 

Everywhere we go, people feel the need to inform me that my children look "exactly" like Handy Daddy, and I'm starting to feel how some men must feel when someone's giving them that questioning look...you know...the look that says "are you SURE those are your children?" 

First of all, my children don't even look alike.  So, how can they both look "exactly" like their father.  I will admit, The Bug does look more like her father.  But she does have most of my features.  She just has Handy Daddy's brow, and that seems to do the trick of making her look like Handy Daddy.

But, Tootsie...that girl looks like her Mama. 

We dress alike.

 

















We sleep alike.

You will notice at least three bottles lined up on the headboard of the bed.  How thirsty did I get in the middle of the night?  Lord have mercy!


I noticed that the crib rails are the exact match to the rails on the headboard of the bed I'm sleeping in above.  Weird!

We laugh alike, too.



We even look alike at play.


Try to ignore the fact that I'm barefoot and in only a diaper as I stroll amongst the rusted gas cans and chicken wire.  I'm from the country -- that's how we roll.


And that's how Tootsie rolls.
Don't get me wrong -- it's not that I don't want them to look like Handy Daddy.  And it's not about my own vanity.  It's just that I suffered to produce these children.  I just want to see some of myself in them.  And I do.

Although the Bug looks a little more like Handy Daddy, she has Mama's temperament all the way.  There's no question that if she took the "which Friends character are you" quiz (if such a quiz even exists), she would be a Monica.

And Tootsie doesn't seem to have Mama's temperament so much.  But she looks just like me.  I actually see my mother when I look at her.

What frustrates me is that no one else seems to see it.  And they constantly remind me that they don't see it.

So should I just start carrying around my baby pictures so that people will believe that these are, in fact, my children?  Because carrying around DNA results...well....that'd just be crazy.





Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Undah dah Sea

Okay, just so ya'll know, Tootsie is quite the little character, too.  I know I blog about the Bug alot, but that's not because Tootsie doesn't have any good material.  It's just that there's not much dialogue when it comes to Tootsie.  But, no doubt, that's coming.

In case you were wondering, and I'm sure you all have been pondering this for some time now, my favorite Disney Princess is Ariel.  I think it's because that's the movie that came out when I was a kid, but you can't argue the fact that it's a great movie all-around.  I mean, Sebastian alone could carry the show with that funny accent of his. 

Anywho...

In case you need a little refresher (and you definitely will to have any idea what Tootsie is singing), I give you this:



And here's Tootsie belting it out...




I just pray she's more obedient than Ariel was.

Just sayin'.

Friday, November 19, 2010

what's in a name

Another one of my BFFs, Jodie, has this hilarious little blog, which you can visit here.  I was hesitant to release that information, for fear that you would spend all of your free time there, and not here, but then I realized that most of my followers are my family or...well....Jodie...then I decided it was safe.  If I'm wrong, it's gonna be pret-ty awkward at the to da Drama house come the holidays.

So anyway, Jodie has thrown down the gauntlet with this little name googling game and I have picked up the aforementioned gauntlet.  Picked up the gauntlet....is that right?  I'm not sure, but here goes:

(the names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Mama to da Drama looks like...
Mama to da Drama looks like broccoli.  Yes, right after I wash and dry my hair.  They be pret-ty frizzy.
Mama to da Drama looks like Toon sex-symbol Jessica Rabbit.  Wow...really?  That's flattering, but not so much.  I mean, that would be too much pressure for me.  You got the man-drool and the paparazzi to deal with.  Not to mention that annoying hair hanging over one eye all the time.  Can you imagine the strain that puts on the other poor eye?  I think I'll just stick to being day-to-day average and special-occasion smokin'.  I know...I'm so full of myself, right?  I blame Handy Daddy -- always telling me how beautiful I am.  It's really gone to my head.
Mama to da Drama looks like Luna Lovegood.  Not sure about this either, but I totally love the name "Luna."

Mama to da Drama likes...
Mama to da Drama likes her adventure buddy, Madden.  I WOULD like to have an adventure buddy, so I guess I need to keep my eye out for this "Madden" character.
Mama to da Drama likes chocolate biscuits.  I didn't know there was such a thing, but probably not.  Not only am I not a fan of sweet meat, but not a fan of sweet biscuits.  Muffins, sure.  Biscuits, no.
Mama to da Drama likes to hang out with her high-school friends, go to bars and eat at Lebanese restaurants.  (a) sure, but don't really do it much anymore [and what would Madden say?]; (2) no; and (c) Maybe. 

Mama to da Drama says...
Mama to da Drama says pink isn't only a color.  It is an attitude.  I actually think red is more of an attitude.  That's probably why I look so much like Jessica Rabbit.
Mama to da Drama says that the focus on her décolletage doesn't concern her.  That's true.  It doesn't.
Mama to da Drama says hello.  Yes I do.  Except when I say "bonjour."

Mama to da Drama wants...
Mama to da Drama wants to be a bridesmaid for Kendra's wedding.  Only if I can pick the dress.
Mama to da Drama wants to go to California.  Sure.  Why not?
Mama to da Drama wants to be pregnant before she's 30.  Mission accomplished.

Mama to da Drama does...
Mama to da Drama does hair.  Don't believe everything you read.
Mama to da Drama does menswear.  Only if you count Handy Daddy's t-shirts when I was 9 mos. preggo.

Mama to da Drama hates...
Mama to da Drama hates her dinosaur.  If by "her dinosaur," they mean the VCR, then they are wrong.  It's the only way I get to watch Survivor on the same evening it airs.  You have to wait 'til like the next day to watch it on the Internet. 
Mama to da Drama hates the coward.  I do.  He's pretty pathetic.
Mama to da Drama hates a mess.  It don't get no righter!, i.e., that statement is accurate.

Mama to da Drama goes...
Mama to da Drama goes vintage.  1940s all the way.
Mama to da Drama goes to see Mr. Schuester after freaking out over Mercedes getting in trouble.  I'm totally over it, though. 

Mama to da Drama is...
Mama to da Drama is actually the remedy for very negative, aggressive feelings.  Wow, I had no idea I had this much power. 
Mama to da Drama is a genus of approximately 600 species of flowering plants.  I got a little excited, because I thought it said, "genius." 

Mama to da Drama loves...
Mama to da Drama loves art.  Eh....it's okay.
Mama to da Drama loves all God's creatures.  "Loves" is a strong word.  More like either "respects" or "hates,"  depending on the creature.  But I do loves horses.
Mama to da Drama loves Dan.   Which one?  Aykroyd or Rather?  Because it definitely makes a difference.

I feel like I've really opened up to you all on this post. 

It's not easy for me to be so transparent. [wink wink]

Sunday, November 14, 2010

...your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

One of my BFFs, upon entering into the potty-training phase of parenting his girls, came to the conclusion that we girls have a "design flaw."  According to him, we girls pee everywhere and, of course, can't pee standing up.  Never mind he is a pastor and the designer he is critiquing is the Almighty Himself.  Oh, and if you're reading this, Brother, I have two words for you -- well, really, one word and some numbers:

Isaiah 29:16

Don't worry, girls, I got our backs...[wink wink]

Well, I was just beside myself with glee when I stumbled upon this add in the Pearson's Luggage catalog. 

I submit to you Exhibit K -- the GOGIRL.


Only $9.95 people.
And it's made in the good ole' U-S of A.

Okay.  What do you say to this?  Speechless?

Not me.

First of all, I applaud them for their ingenuity.

Second of all, is this really necessary?

I mean, WHEN do you actually need this GOGIRL contraption?  It is the year 2010, right?  We all have indoor plumbing, right?  Well, I kinda didn't a few weeks ago, but that is for another post.

Where are you going to be going, that you will have use for this thing?

Okay, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt...

Maybe you could use it when you go camping.  Right, no squatting in the woods.  Okay, I'll give them that. 

Then shouldn't it be in a camping/outdoor catalog?

Okay, more benefit-of-the-doubt-giving...

Okay, it's a luggage catalog.  I'm thinking, maybe it's for people traveling to third-world countries that don't have indoor plumbing.  Yeah....that has to be it, right?

But the suitcases on the preceding page will run you a few Benjamins apiece.  If I'm going to a third-world country, I ain't bringin' no $300 suitcase.

I'm bringing this baby from Wal-Mart[s]:



3-Piece Value Luggage Set, Black - $19.00

I don't know - but I think people are just way too nutty these days.  Like this guy, Dan, on Survivor this season. 

He wore a $1,500 pair of shoes onto survivor.  Another lady on the show, Holly, got mad at him and buried them in the ocean.  Well, if you're stupid enough to wear a $1,500 pair of shoes onto Survivor, you deserve it.  Sorry, buddy.  I "got nothin' for ya'", like Probst says. 

I think I was born in the wrong decade.  I don't think people were this dumb in the 40s.  That's when I should've been born.  I woulda' rocked the 40s.

And that GOGIRL would've come in handy then. 




Tuesday, October 26, 2010

New husband, new book and fairy nonsense

A few weeks ago, the Bug woke up and the first thing she told me was, "Mama, I want to marry Kai."  I knew exactly who she was talking about because I had just chaperoned a field trip for her class, and there is a boy in her class named Kai.  And let's face it - there's not a whole lotta "Kai's" out there.

My first question was, "What about Lightning McQueen?"  You will recall her fondness for the cartoon racecar.

She said, "Princess Bug's gonna get married two times."  Hold up, Sistah'.  Mama ain't havin' THAT.  I told her Princess Bug could only get married once.  Case closed.

So apparently, Lightning McQueen is out of the picture now.  Go 'head, Sally, here's your chance.

Well, yesterday, the Bug authored her first book.  She dictated it to me, and I got it down word-for-word.

It's title?

Princess Bug & Kai Adventures

Catchy, right?

Well, I would give you a sneak peak, but since the entire book would constitute the length of the customary "sneak peak," I will indulge you with the entire manuscript.  You're welcome.

Page - 1 -
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Princess Bug.  There was a prince named Kai.  And they were heroes.  They had to stop mean old Joel with that dragon.
And they have power.
Princess Bug got a sword and a bow and some hand power.
And it was so much fun.
They had to stop everything.

Page - 2 -
Once there was a girl named Chloe who had a pointed side at the end of her bow and arrow.
It was very good have a power. 
And they were heroes.
Kai, Princess Bug and Chloe always saved the day.

Page - 3 -
They always have some powers - every day.
Princess Bug's helpers' names were SpiderMan and Batman.
Batman always get the fire off the clouds.
Spiderman takes the fire off the house.

Page - 4 -
Everything was very great things.
They done saved the day.

Page - 5 -
And they lived happily ever after...
THE END.

I tell you what...this child is makin' in hard on ole' Mama.  I'm not sure which talent I should be cultivating.  I mean, we've got dance, art, and now writing.  Pick a talent, Bug!  Just pick a talent! 

If our kids were fairies, it would be so much easier.  When they were born, they'd just fly by a bunch of tables with various objects representing talents and the appropriate talent would glow when they flew by it.  That's how it went down on the Tinkerbell movie, anyway.  I have no idea how it is for fairies in real life.  Maybe that's just Hollywood.  Maybe it's just as hard for them to pick a talent. 

Monday, October 18, 2010

Lord, grant me the Serenity

Last week was one of the most ridiculously difficult weeks I've had in a looooooonnnnng time.  My brain and body are so exhausted and tense -- I don't know what to do with myself.  So, basically, I'm just about to vomit all over this post.  Hopefully, all the tension will leave with it and I will be left with a little peace.

It all started about 6 months ago, when the toilets in our home backed up and water from an unknown source pooled onto the floors every time we had a hard rain.  This actually happened a couple of times.

Well, on Monday, I just so happened to be talking to my friend about this problem, and she told me her brother-in-law worked for the city, and maybe he could help me out with this.  I called him and he referred me to the city's wastewater superintendent, who I spoke to, and who was very helpful.  I was very encouraged, thinking I suddenly had friends in high places, but that was short-lived. 

It rained Monday night.

Toilets didn't want to flush and threatened to overflow, but worst of all, water all over the floor again from the stupid unknown source (hereinafter referred to as "US.")


As of Monday night, my hardwood floors are warped and buckled and I'm sick of mopping up water from US. 
 
Tuesday, I call the city and they come out and tell me I need the plumbers to come out.  Long story.  Anyway, the plumbers come out to unclog the toilets.  Apparently, they shoot an extremely powerful gush of water into the line (from the roof, of all places) to push everything through. 
 
You're not gonna believe what happened next.
 
No, water did not come out of US. 
 
What DID come out of US was stinky BLACK SEWAGE.  That's right, people. 
 
BLACK. SEWAGE. ON. MY. FLOOR.
 
How I did not have a nervous breakdown right then and there is proof enough that there is a God and He does show me mercy.
 
The plumber removed the black sewage from the floor with a shop vac and moseyed on out the door because his friend was waiting at his house with meat to bar-be-que. 
 
He's lucky I wasn't armed because I would've taken him out right then and there.
 
So Daddy Plumber (the one I wanted to take out was Son Plumber) came by on Wednesday with this other guy that runs cameras through the line to determine the problem.  Several problems were determined, but not the particular problem that would pinpoint the US.  Daddy Plumber said what I said didn't make sense and that it had to be coming from the washing machine drain. [SIGH]
 
On Thursday, they did a smoke test to try to figure out if there was in fact a crack somewhere under my slab that would allow water (and/or BLACK SEWAGE) to appear from an US.  You guessed it -- smoke poured out of the spot where I told Daddy Plumber that the BLACK SEWAGE was spurting out of on Tuesday.
 
On Friday morning, Daddy Plumber told me they'd have to break open the slab four feet on either side of the wall in my laundry room to find the broken pipe and replace it.  Also, they have to dig up my front yard and replace the sewer line so that there is no more backup.
 
On Friday evening, at 5:08 p.m. to be exact, the Bug says, "Mama, my ear hurts real bad."  I look at it, and it is bubbling full of pus.  5:08 p.m. on a Friday.  Perfect.  Thankfully, a pediatrician lives three houses down from me, and was so kind as to examine the Bug and give me a prescription. 
 
On Sunday afternoon, Tootsie was running fever.  Back down the street to the kindly neighbor doctor. 
 
Now, it's Monday again, and I have what promises to be weeks ahead of me that I really don't want to deal with.
 
Tomorrow I will have a jackhammer and water hoses in my house.  JACKHAMMER.IN.MY.HOUSE. 
 
m'kay....
 
We also have to replace the floors in about half of the house because of all this craziness.  I'm really looking forward to that.
 
Have you ever had one of those weeks?

Monday, September 27, 2010

"Traveling mercies" means something altogether different to me now

So the Fam took off for a long weekend "vacation" to the beach this past Thursday.  We are now home.  Hallelujah!  Here are a few highlights of the trip:

  • As soon as we pulled onto the Interstate, the Bug said, "Mom, are we at vacation yet?"  That was the first of MANY such questions.

  • In all my maternal wisdom, I went to the library when the girls were at Mother's Day Out and picked out books and CDs that their little eyes and ears have yet to see and hear.  I kept them hidden and pulled them out for the trip.  Handy Daddy, impressed with his fine choice of a wife, fist-bumped me on this one.  This kept them busy for about an hour.  The other three hours were spent listening to Tootsie wail to be removed from the car seat, with about a half-hour nap somewhere in there.

  • We stopped at a Denny's for supper on the way to the island.  This could probably be a post in and of itself, so I'll just give you the highlights of this highlight:  Tootsie let out a fart that I'm convinced could go into the record books for the longest fart ever recorded while sitting in a wooden highchair, which of course, enhanced the sound effects of the fart.  Later, The Bug shouted over and over "I just burped!  I just burped!"  I'm like....what in the world??  I specifically recall the doctor twice saying to me "It's a little girl." Apparently, they haven't caught on to that little bit of information yet.

  • The first night was spent with Tootsie wedged between us - her head in my back and her feet in Handy Daddy's back.

  • The second night, when we decided to turn in, we found this:

How is it that they were in the exact same position on two separate nights?  I think they're in cahoots.

  • Tootsie flat-out refused to taste the pop tarts I bought them as an easy vacation "treat" breakfast, but didn't hesitate to eat the seaweed on the beach.

  • The Bug and Handy Daddy were at the pool for several hours and were drying off to go in for lunch.  The Bug apparently forgot she had taken off her floaties, and decided to hop back into the pool.  She made us proud in her attempt to stay afloat, but Handy Daddy had to jump in fully clothed to retrieve her.

  • I do recall the point at the Aquarium when Tootsie stuck her fingers in her throat and gagged.  I don't know how much time elapsed between that point and the point when we finally realized that she had regurgitated her lunch onto the front of her outfit.  I wonder what people thought of me as I happily strolled my baby around sportin' about a fourth cup of banana and red grape chunks.  If I had been wearing sweats, no makeup and a messy ponytail, they probably would've thought I was overwhelmed and felt sorry for me.  But since I had made myself relatively presentable for our little family outing, they probably just thought I was clueless and felt sorry for Tootsie.  Either way, they're wrong.  Because she probably just had an upset tummy from the beach seaweed buffet she had that morning.  So THERE!

  • When we left for the trip home, the Bug asked, "Mom, are we in Louisiana yet?"  Here we go again...

  • On the way home, the Bug asked Handy Daddy if she could get a pet frog.  He said "Uh, let me think about it.  No."  A few minutes later, the Bug says, "Oh, Mom, I got a better idea than a pet frog.  How 'bout I get a pet penguin?"

  • Also on the way home, Handy Daddy was being silly and dancing to the Cars soundtrack (picture the index finger in the air somewhat reminscent of Saturday Night Fever), and the Bug said, "Daddy, you look like a tap dancer."  And he wonders why I look at him like this when he dances

(We've been married so long, I think we're starting to look alike or something).

I'm glad we took the trip, but I am more glad that we're home.  Vacation is exhausting.

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Patriarchs would be proud...

Yet another butchered Bible song -- she's full of 'em.

Traditional lyrics:
Father Abraham had many sons, and many sons had Father Abraham
I am one of them, and so are you
So let's all praise the Lord

The Bug's lyrics:
Father Magel-han had many songs, and many songs had Father Magel-han
I am wonderin', and so are you
So let's all praise the Ward

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Because He first loved Me

Isn't it funny how kids will come up with something out of the blue that just leaves you floored?

Yesterday, as we were loading up and leaving the library after Baby Story Time, the Bug asks me, "Mama, do you know what a Christian is?  A Christian is someone who loves Jesus, and I love Jesus, so I'm a Christian."

Talk about just stop you in your tracks. 

Later in the day, we had this conversation while riding in the car listening to Christmas music of all things (in September) --

The Bug:  "Mama, am I worshiping right now?"
Mama:  "Yes, Baby, if you're singing to Jesus, you're worshiping."
The Bug:  "I am singing to Jesus, Mama.  I love to worship Jesus."

Oh, and two days ago, it went down like this --

The Bug:  "Mama, do you know what makes God sad?  Sin."
Mama:  "That's right.  Do you know what sin is?"
The Bug:  "Yes.  It's something that makes God sad."

I don't know if the Spirit is tugging on her little heart or what -- but that girl is just blowing me away this week.

Oh, sweet Jesus, let it last.  Don't let this innocence fade with the years.  Keep her heart always, Lord.  Show me how to nurture this love she has for You, Lord.  And thank you for this incredible gift.  Amen.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Hush Little Baby (Don't Say a Word)

No matter how bad my day has been...
no matter how stressed out...
no matter how irritated or aggravated...
no matter how defiant the kids were...
no matter how clingy or needy or high-maintenance they were...

This gets me every time --

A sleeping child.

I could have completely lost my temper, yelled and threatened to get in my car and drive away (which I do regularly -- I know, pathetic, right?)...

I go in their room after they're asleep and my heart melts.  They're so beauiful!  They look like angels (and they really are). 

I really have great kids, but we all know that those days come when all you want is for them to go to sleep so you can just have a minute of peace...

...and then sneak into their room and stare at their peaceful little faces. 

Let me let you in on a little secret....I'm hooked on watching my kids sleep -- and I have the photos to prove it.  Here are some of my faves...

The Bug - 5 1/2 mos
The Bug - 9 mos.

The Bug - 17 mos.
The Bug - 23 mos.

The Bug - 2 yrs.
Tootsie - 2 1/2 mos.

Tootsie - 10 1/2 mos.

The Bug - 4 yrs.Tootsie - 13 1/2 mos.

Tootsie - 14 mos.

Now you all see what I mean?  Any other closet [people who stare at their children while they sleep] out there?

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Bring it, Probst...

So after several weeks and about 10 or so tries, I have finally succeeded in cooking brown rice in a pot on the stove without scorching the rice at the bottom of the pot.  That's right, I am now, after much trial and error, in possession of the exact formula of rice to water ratio, heat intensity and cook time.  Look out NASA, there's a new kid in town.

Anywho...

My success at cooking one cup of brown rice is quite the self-esteem builder.  I feel like I've finally arrived.  I am now a bonafide grown-up.

Nevermind I'm over 30, been married almost 8 years and have birthed two babies.

You come to my house.  You're hungry.  I can cook you a mean cup of rice. 

Now, really, I guess cooking rice does not equate adulthood.  It really just means I got skillz.  The only problem is, I can only cook one cup.  You see, my formula calls for one cup, and I have no idea if it would work with multiple cups.  I mean, I'd have to tinker with the aforementioned rice to water ratio, heat intensity and cook time.  And I don't have several more weeks for that.  I think it would just be quicker to cook one cup of rice over and over until I had enough. 

Of course, maybe I could make the time for this experiment, because it could actually pay off in the long run.  I mean, what if I got called up to go on Survivor?  That's all they eat on that show.  If I could cook more than one cup of rice to the absolute perfection I've attained with the one cup, my skillz would be invaluable...or worth $1 million...same difference.

Speaking of Survivor, the countdown starts today.  Two more weeks people. 

Outwit....outlast....outplay.  I'm all about it, baby.

That's it -- I'm goin' cook some rice.




Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Psalm 119:105 PBV (Princess Bug Version)

We have been laughing about this for the past two weeks and I said, "Enough, already!  Why are we keeping this to ourselves??!!  We need to share this with the world!"

And so, without further adieu, I give you -- the Bug!


Nothing gives me more pleasure than hearing my children sing hymns to our Lord....conspicuous "fly" and "cat" reference and all.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Joy of the Lord is my Strength

Well, school is in full swing and I am enjoying running the roads all by my lonesome.

The Bug is excited about school and talks non-stop from the moment my car pulls up to the curb to pick her up until I unload them both at home.  She has told me both days that she saw Tootsie "two times" and Tootsie was "MAD"!  Hmmmm

When I picked them up today, though, the Assistant Director comes up to me and tells me that Tootsie is such a joy.  If all of the kids were like her, things would run so smoothly.  She eats all of her lunch; she plays.  Most of the kids are adjusting, but Tootsie is just happy all day and acts like its "no big deal."

Huh????

Okay, yeah, Tootsie is definitely the more laid back one.  She is, in general, more friendly and less cranky. 

I guess I was surprised because she hasn't always been that way. 

See, when we brought Tootsie home from the hospital, the first month, she was an angel.  She didn't cry.  I had to wake her to nurse.  I thought, "Wow, this is a piece of cake!"  We ran errands, we went to the library.  We took naps.  Life was grand.

Then, the second month began.  And Tootsie unleashed her terror.  On Becoming Babywise (a book I HIGHLY recommend to any new mom) tells you that your baby should be on this schedule: 

feeding time, awake time, nap time, feeding time, awake time, nap time, etc.

Well, this was Tootsie's schedule after the first month:

feeding time, awake time, nap time (for 30 minutes), scream bloody murder for 30 minutes, nap time, etc.

I'm telling you, I didn't know what to do with that kid.  No more errands. No more library.  No more naps.  No more leaving the house, pretty much.  Because we didn't want to subject anyone else to this.  There was just no stopping her when she got started.  We tried the colic medicine from the doctor, gas drops, bouncing, swaddling, herbs, praying, casting out demons....you name it. 

Then, as an added benefit, she threw in some howling while she nursed.  Suck, scream, suck, scream, suck scream.  After a few days or weeks of that (who knows?), my nerves were so shot, my milk would not let down.  That really helped the whole situation.

When she was about 6 or 7 months old, this gradually went away.  And she grew into a much more pleasant baby. 

So why do I still think of her as that baby who, for about 5 months, threatened to send me to the looney bin?

Why is it so hard to focus on the positive?

Why is the negative always at the front of my mind?

Except for that 5 months, Tootsie really has been a great baby.  She is happy.  She sleeps all night since we sleep-trained her at 6 months (again -- On Becoming Babywise).  She plays by herself.  She eats what I feed her.  I've never had to get her out of the church nursery for crying.  She is friendly, but not too friendly.

I've got nothing to complain about. 

I saw a quote on my friend's facebook the other day that said, "Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare, but I wouldn't trade it for the world." 

I can definitely relate to that. 

I just need to figure out how to be victorious in battle while letting JOY be my BANNER.

Friday, August 13, 2010

bye-bye Summer


Come Tuesday next week, this will be one happy Mama.

That's because Mother's Day Out is starting up again, and I will actually have a break two days a week.  It's been a long time comin' ya'll.

This will be the Bug's 4th year in Mother's Day Out (and last year before "big" school) and Tootsie's first year.  So I actually haven't been without at least one kid hanging on my leg for the last 13 months. 

I know, I know.  Some of the mamas out there do this round the clock every year -- yada, yada, yada.  Well, we're not talkin' about them.  We're talking about me.  Let's try to stay on subject.

Anyway, in the words of the great Mater the tow truck, "I'm happier'n a tornada in a trailer park!"

I know the Bug is ready to go back and Tootsie, well, she doesn't have a clue.  But I know they're going to be as happy as they can possbily be, because it's gonna be so much fun.  A lot more fun than it's been around here with their Mama on the brink of insanity. 

So we kicked off the "end" of summer today by taking a little field trip to the fountains downtown, followed by a picnic. 



I've actually avoided doing anything "fun" all summer for fear of the whining/crying/tantrums that would surely transpire at any attempt to do anything fun.  But today went off without a hitch, much to my surprise.  The only problem was the Bug having to potty and there being no facilities to accommodate her.  Nothing a little trip to the bushes couldn't fix.  Oh, and a near meltdown when the Bug asked if that was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, because she doesn't like jelly.  I just told her it wasn't "jelly" -- it was "fruit."  That easy. 

I think I underestimated my Super Mama abilities.  And I think I actually had more fun than they did. 

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Dream on


Okay, so when I say the Bug loves Lightning McQueen, I mean the girl LOVES Lightning McQueen.

You know, the red racecar on Cars -- the cartoon racecar.

Yes, I know she's only 4, and this is the era of make-believe.  But I think she really believes with her whole heart that she will marry Lightning McQueen one day.  And our many attempts to get this kid to understand that even if the animated hot rod were here in the "flesh," you cannot marry a car in the good ole' US of A.  (Not yet anyway.)

And so the little dreamer fills us in daily of her plans of wedded bliss with her "prince."

  • "Mama, in my dreams I am Princess [Bug] and my prince is Lightning McQueen."
  • "Mama, when we grow up, me and Lightning will get married and have a cute little baby and move to New Orleans."
  • "Mama, when me and Lightning get married, I don't want to have a baby in my tummy.  Because it hurts to cut it out.  I want you to have my baby in your tummy."
  • When I ask if she will have a car baby or human baby, she says, "A hooman baby!"
  • (as she is laying in her sleeping bag) "Mama, I am inside Mack." (Lightning McQueen's truck & trailer)  I say, "Oh, are you Lightning McQueen?"  She looks at me like I'm an idiot and says, "No, silly.  I am Princess [Bug], his wife."
Nevermind that Lightning McQueen already has a girlfriend, Sally.  It's like Sally doesn't even exist.  She is not in the least bit threatened by Sally.  No insecurities for her. 

For the most part, I think this is cute and funny.  But I don't think I can get used to her saying she's someone's "wife."  Now that's just weird.

Oh, and did I mention that Larry the Cucumber is her brother, Ariel is her sister and Snow White is her "girlfriend"?

Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities.  Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.  --Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Monday, July 19, 2010

80 years young

This weekend we celebrated my Pawpaw's 80th birthday with a surprise party at a local seafood restaurant.  Pawpaw's three children and all of his his grandchildren and great-grandchildren were there, except for one cousin's family who couldn't be there because they are missionaries overseas, and all three of my siblings.  [sigh]  Don't get me started. 

Anyway, he was surprised and it was great for everyone to get together.

My favorite part, though, was seeing my little girl sitting on Pawpaw's lap. I have no idea why that touches my heart so much.  Probably because I sat on Pawpaw's lap until I was 13 or 14 years old.

Here's me with my Pawpaw when he was 49, and me with my girls and Pawpaw when he turned 80.

I look at these pictures and think of an old Tracy Lawrence song.  "The only thing that stays the same is everything changes, everything changes...and time marches on."

Friday, July 16, 2010

The Star of the Show (in Mama's eyes)

Our local university provides continuing education in various areas during the summer, and we decided to partake this summer.  We enrolled the Bug in her first dance class. 

She has talked about going to "ballerina school" for some time now, since we pass by one on the way to Mother's Day Out.  I cannot tell you how excited this child was when these classes started.  The classes are once a week for four weeks and are an hour and a half.  This includes 30 minutes each of ballet, tap and tumbling.

Well, here is our little ballerina, at the conclusion of the four weeks:

Ballet
(She is 3rd from left)


Tumbling


Tap
(She is 3rd in line)



I know what you're thinking -- we have ourselves a dancing prodigy on our hands here.  Or future Olympic gold medalist in gymnastics, at the very least.  But please don't fret... we won't let it go to her head.

In any event, when I asked her if she wanted to go back for the next session, she said, "No, tank you.  Dancing makes me so very tired."

[long exaggerated sigh while rolling eyes] I sure hope I don't turn into one of those obnoxious stage moms.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Chip off the ole' block...

Here is further evidence that I was not given the wrong baby in the hospital...


When I got up this morning, the Bug had already made her bed.  Makes a Mama proud...

Friday, July 2, 2010

My [Garden] Runneth Over

This is what I spent my morning doing. 

Handy Daddy and the Bug planted two little cucumber plants in their garden this spring, and since the summer rains arrived, the cucumbers are aplenty.  I had to figure out what to do with them, because we can't eat or give them away fast enough.

Now, I am fairly domestic, but not quite Suzy HomemakerSo this was a bit of a challenge for me, especially since I have never done this before, or seen it done before, or have the proper tools to do it.

It is a genuine miracle I didn't end up with third degree burns on the top half of my body.

Now I have to wait 12 to 24 hours to "test" the seal on the jars, and I will then know whether or not this even worked.  The directions were a little complicated, and I was preparing lunches and feeding the baby at the same time I was doing this.  So who knows? 

If it did work, and they are as delicious as I expect them to be, I will probably be giving them away.  And then everyone will want to be my friend.  And then my front door will look something like this.

Then everyone will call me the Pickle Lady.  Sweet...

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Boudin[s]

In an effort to eat a meal without interruption the other day, I gave the Bug permission to take pictures with my camera. I was going through those pictures today, and found this gem.


When the Bug was a wee lass, she was a fatty. It's hard to tell now, but that girl had some rolls. And now, Tootsie, has followed in her big sister's footsteps and is sportin' her own set of rolls. I guess I just have fat babies. All the more to love, I say.

When my grandmother was alive, she would squeeze the Bug's fat legs and call them her "lil' boudins." We still laugh about that.

Well, Mawmaw Bobbie is not with us anymore. She went to be with Jesus before Tootsie was born. I wonder if she can see my lil' Tootsie's "boudins..."


In the very unlikely event there is someone reading this that doesn't know what "boudin" is, I provide the following:

bou•din also Bou•dain (bōō-dān', -dāɴ') n. pl. bou•dins also Bou•dains (-dān', -dānz')
A highly seasoned link sausage of pork, pork liver, and rice that is a typical element of Louisiana Creole cuisine.

Somehow, I know one day my girls will not appreciate having their legs likened to "a highly seasoned link sausage." But they're so cute right now, I struggle daily not to take a bite out of them.

Painting the Red Stick Red

So this past weekend, some of my closest girlfriends and I planned a girls' getaway. We didn't travel very far, but distance was not of particular importance on this getaway. It was peace.

I have been home for the past 3 months, with my girls, while Handy Daddy has been working out of town. He has been gone 4 days/3 nights, while I run the house solo. And it's been wearing me down. I've been doing a lot of screaming and wishing I could have a few belts before bed.

Handy Daddy found out last week that his out-of-town work was coming to a close, and he would be back home every night. And of course, the aforementioned girls' getaway was planned. It was like all was suddenly right with the world. Forget the oil spill crisis. Forget the state of the economy. Forget that our country is going to hell in a handbasket. (whatever that means). Mama is steppin' out!

I received the confirmation email from the hotel, and watched the goosebumps arise upon my arms. My friends and I swapped email about how we were gonna "tear up" the town and how we would be "ackin' da foo." Which really just amounted to us going to eat out and doing a little shopping. We were like little girls the night before the family trip to Disney. The excitement was at an all time high.

Then I woke up Friday morning to the Bug telling me she felt warm. By 10 a.m., she was running 102.6 fever. Great....

I didn't let it stop me. I called and made an appointment with the pediatrician, gave Handy Daddy instructions, kissed my lil' family goodbye, promised to miss them, and headed out the door. But it would've been so much easier to head out that door without my Bug being sick. Ugh!

So I worried a little, but mostly had fun. We went to lunch, did some shopping, acted "da foo" in the hotel room for a while, went out to dinner and got some gelato for dessert at Whole Foods. Then we all piled onto the fold-out sofa bed in the hotel room and flipped through the channels, all the while giggling because we were free. Free from laundry, bills, dishes, stoves, snotty noses. Oh, it was heavenly.


We headed back the next day, and I must say, I felt so refreshed! We weren't gone long, but I came home a different person. I can feel my sanity returning, and I am grateful for my little break.

Now, Handy Daddy's weekend went quite different. I will just give you the short version by giving you his report to me of the pediatrician visit. It went a little something like this:

  • Very nervous father brings sick 4 year old and recently mobile 1 year old to pediatrician

  • 4 year old has never been to this pediatrician, so he has to fill out a forms relative to her medical history, which he is fairly clueless about

  • all the while, 1 year old screams to be removed from the infant carrier

  • 4 year old sees doctor and doctor returns with script for antibiotics

  • father asks, in front of the 4 year old, if she can just get a shot

  • 4 year old cries and pleads with father to not get a shot. She says, "I got an idea. Maybe I can get a shot next time I come."

  • father insists on the shot, and much more crying ensues

  • father has to return 1 year old to the infant carrier, which elicits high-pitched screams to accompany the crying and pleading of the 4 year old

  • father has to hold the 4 year old's flailing arms and swears "another appendage came out of nowhere and slapped the nurse"

  • father is still filling out the medical history forms as he walks out of the office with the screaming children

Handy Daddy called to give me the report on the doctor visit, and realized that with all of the commotion and his frayed nerves, he didn't even know what the diagnosis was. We called back and found out that the Bug was suffering from tonsillitis.

Handy Daddy was very sweet to tell me that this 24-hour time period was very eye-opening for him, and he didn't realize all I have to do each day. He said he had no idea how I do it, because he didn't even have to cook dinner or bathe them. (I cooked a crock-pot meal for them before I left.)

Thank God for girlfriends.