Stanley is my hero

I wish I could find his entire Christmas speech from last night, but this is all I could find on YouTube.  If you missed it, aw man, you missed it.  But you can watch The Office episode on nbc.com. 

Halla-to-da-lujah!

Are you my mother?

I am a very proud Mama today.

We are in the beginning of the 2nd six weeks of Kindergarten, and my Bug just read her first book today.

Tootsie and I go to the library every Wednesday for Story Time, and we always bring back movies and books, of course.

I brought back a small stack of books today and, this afternoon, as I was folding clothes, I heard the Bug in the playroom.  She was sitting at the play table with a book, and she read the entire thing by herself.

This was the book -- Are you my mother?  by P.D. Eastman

I was amazed.

I sat there listening and felt a mixture of pride and sadness swell in my heart.  Proud and sad about this next step in her little life.

I really love seeing them grow and hit those milestones, because that's the way it should be.

But I also know that each milestone reached is the end of a part of their childhood.

The last time I nursed her.

The last time she slept in a crib.

The last time I fed her with a spoon.

The last time I changed her diaper.

The last time I rocked her to sleep.

Each accomplishment is a last time.

Precious one, I would hold onto you forever if I could, because, yes...

I am your mother.

A dream is a wish your heart makes...

We went to the playground this weekend, and Tootsie spent about 15 minutes running to and fro, proclaiming, "I Din-dee-EH-duh (Cinderella) -- I lost my slipper!" 

 This was a shot of the final act of her protrayal of Cinderella.

Am I ever gonna' not want to EAT those cheeks? 

Lord, help me.

And the award goes to...

In the off chance you are reading this and are not subscribed to the Joli Blog, go here to find my latest writing venture.

I apologize for being too lazy to repost it here.

As it is, it took me a week just to post a link to it.

I hope you enjoy Handy Daddy's dramatization of a blathering weed-gone-wild. 

If only the Academy recognized live parodies of animated characters...

bonne nuit

This was me when I awoke this morning.

No, I was not being tortured by Nazis -- just undergoing a sleep study.

If you've read this post, you know that I suffer from insomnia.  Well, my doctor recommended a sleep study just a few months after the Bug was born, but since it would've cost me about $3,000 to obtain said sleep study, it never was obtained.  And, now, my insurance finally covers sleep studies. 

That's right.  My insurance paid for them to do this to me.

This after my blood work was "normal" and my doctor insisted I'm just a "chronic insomniac." 

So this is sort of a last-ditch medical effort to determine exactly what is wrong with me, because I will not accept this "chronic insomniac" poppycock.

I've been nervous since the day the study was scheduled, so when the receptionist called to confirm, I peppered her with questions.

Can I lock my door?

Who is gonna be there?

Is the tech a man or a woman?

Do I still take my sleep meds?

Can I use my sound machine?

What happens in case of a fire?

What do I do if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?

The girl's tone suggested that these were the most ridiculous questions she's ever heard in her life.

Well sorry, Boo, but I already have trouble sleeping.  How do you think sleeping in a strange room with Lord-knows-who roaming the halls and no lock on the door is gonna work for me?

My fears were confirmed when I arrived at the office at 8 pm and see this guy going in.

It wasn't actually this guy ('cuz that would've been cool), but it was someone like this guy. 

Don't get me wrong.  I have nothing against this guy.  I'm sure he's very charming.

My objection was to the fact that my door could not be locked during the night (for safety reasons???) and I was quite worried that -- horror of horrors- I could find this guy looming over my bed in the middle of the night in a deep sleep stupor or, worse yet, climbing into bed with me.

And I've seen enough episodes of I Love Lucy and Three's Company to know that could really happen.

After leaving me there for about 45 minutes to stare at the electrical grid I was to be hooked up to, the tech finally came back.

Y'all...

Seriously, I didn't count the wires, but there had to be at least 30 of 'em.

I felt like Frankenstein (except a little cuter).

Anyway, when she finally came back, she explained that once I was hooked up, I had to stay in bed with the lights out, and they would be watching me on the camera. 

As Chandler Bing would say, "Could it be any creepier?"

But, on the flip side, can you imagine what peculiar things these sleep techs must see on a regular basis?  Marvelous.

I had to knock on the headboard if I needed anything.  Anything.  I could not leave the bed. 

Since I knew that the aforementioned guy was under the same supervision, I knew he wouldn't be stumbling into my room.  The only consolation I had in this entire meddlesome ordeal.

The lady comes back and measured my head and -- no lie -- wrote all over my head with a wax pencil.  Then she applied some sort of glue and electrodes all over my head. Probably about 20 of them.  I also had one on my throat, chest and two on each leg.  I also had to wear that oxygen thingy on my finger, but when she put the oxygen thing in my nose (you know the thing that looks like an electrical plug), it took all I had to remain in that bed. 

That was very close to crossing the line with me.

But by that point, it would've taken at least a half hour to unhook me, so I decided against it.

She turns out all the lights and leaves the room, which is now pitch dark except for this red light glaring at me.  It looked like a demonic eye (or how I would imagine one to look like), which really helped with the nervous tension I was already experiencing.

Then I hear her voice over the intercom.

Lie still with your eyes closed.

Lie still with your eyes open.

Move your left leg.

Move your right leg.

Snore 3 times.  Do what???

Breathe through your nose only.

Breathe through your mouth only.

Take a deep breath and hold it.  Um....passing out a little, here!!

Okay, good night.

Within 5 minutes I was knocking on the headboard because my finger was completely numb from the oxygen thingy on my finger.

About an hour later, I was knocking on the headboard to have her unhook me so that I could go to the bathroom.  I had to carry my little electrical box with me.

And the rest of the night was a fitful blur of tossing and turning with this ridiculous mass of wires connected to my body.

They woke me at 5:40 a.m. and we went through the whole closed eyes, open eyes, move legs, and snore hullabaloo.

She disconnected me, and I was free to go.

So, in 5 to 6 business days, I am hoping to have an answer.

We shall see.

My Commitment to You (Part 3?)

I know you think I'm making these things up, but I promise you I'm not.  These are real bonafide businesses scattered anywhere across the deep south.  (If you'd like to see Parts 1 and 2, click here and here.)

My friends and I have been hard at work to bring these to you so, in appreciation, feel free to share any gems you may discover in your travels.

Repeat After Me Women's Consignment

Holy Spirit Thrift Shop

Luv Me 2 Times (consignment)

U Save Dentistry

Action Game and Movie

Sweet Repeats Fine Furniture Consignment

Biscuit King

Bangz

Rising Star Primitive Baptist Church

Compliments Hair Studio

Flava Snoballs & BBQ Plate Lunches

Spicy Kutz

A Time for Me Salon

Kwality Kutz

Poise'n Ivy Ladies Fashions

Potluck Boutique

Anointed Kutz

Nappy Roots

Lawn and Order (Get Mow for your Money)

Now, that's funny, right there -- I don't care who you are.

The Night I Accidentally Got Stoned (and an unrelated pizza stone)

So I am glad that the heart-wrenching day of sending my firstborn off to Kindergarten is over.

Weeping lasted through the night, but joy came in the morning in the form of the FedEx man and this package from Pampered Chef.

It is my new pizza stone to replace my old pizza stone that Handy Daddy broke trying to cook pancakes on the stove top.

When I found out they'd send me a new one to replace the broken one, I informed him that he was off the hook.  I thought he would've been glad about that but, he was ambivalent, adding "I never knew I was on the hook."

Well, of course he was on the hook.  It was pretty much brand-new, used only twice to cook pizzas that were less than satisfactory.  That being because I used refrigerated Pillsbury pizza dough, which I am now boycotting because the silly things are rectangle, and pizzas, in most of the civilized world, are circle.

Okay, so I know you're probably like, "Shut up about the stupid pizza stone and tell us how you got stoned!"

Well, unfortunately, and unlike my good friend, Jodie, my super power is not "laying down and going to sleep." 

I would almost certainly sell a kidney to gain possession of that super power but, as of press time, I am a lifetime insomniac who has relied on a cocktail of drugs to lull me to that sweet sweet bye and bye for years. 

I am claiming deliverance, but that deliverance has not yet been granted, and so I just live with the thorn in my side of requiring horse tranquilizers to sleep. 

Not really.

Anyway...

I was out of my usual pills that help to shut down the non-stop freight train that is my brain and found some Ambien in the pantry.  This was prescribed to me a while back, but I didn't like the effect, so I hadn't taken them in a while. 

My doc prescribed 10 mg but told me to break them in half...

Well, I forgot all about that whole "break it in half" bit and took a whole one last night.

I went and sat on the couch and talked to Handy Daddy about school.  That's pretty much the last thing I remember.

He said I was talking about school and then I was quiet for a while.

He looked over at me and my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were barely open and I was tapping my hand on the folder sitting in my lap (picture a heavily-drugged pscyh patient).

This was our exchange:

"Mama, are you alright?"
"No."
"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm seeing double."
"Are you messin' with me?"
"No."
"Well, I think you should go to bed."

I got up and zig-zagged myself to the bathroom where I commenced to brush my teeth, wash my face, apply my lotions...

Handy Daddy comes in to check on me.

"I think you need to forget about all that and just go to bed."
"Have I gone to the bathroom yet?"
"I don't know.  Have you?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you'd probably better, since you've already lost control of the rest of you."

I actually woke up feeling pretty good, so it wasn't all a loss.

I found Handy Daddy sleeping on the couch.

"Why are you sleeping there?"
"Because Tootsie kept crying last night and you were...like...Night of the Living Dead."

He told me everything and I nearly peed my pants.

This is his re-enactment, for your viewing pleasure.



I joked that he could have had his way with me and I would've been none the wiser, to which he replied, "No I can assure you that nothing happened."

Hmpf.

Whatever.

I attribute this only to this...

...and not the fact that he was the perfect gentleman.

I cannot tell this story without telling you about an eerily similar experience of Handy Daddy's.

One of the things I've taken over the years (I use different things when something stops working) is an over-the-counter medicine called Alteril. 

I have to take at least two of them and wait at least an hour or so to get sleepy.  It's what I'd recommend to an infant with insomnia. 

Not really.

So anyway, Handy Daddy was having trouble sleeping one night and took ONE of them. 

I found him face down in just his skivvies in the guest room with the "big light" on (as opposed to the lamp-- go with it...it's what I call it).

The only way I can explain it is that he looked like he had stumbled home from a crack party (or what I envision someone looking like if they stumbled home from a crack party -- I really have no idea, thanks be to God).

Ahhhh, the memories.

A day which will live in infamy...

My Bug started Kindergarten today. 

I have not cried (unless you count my eyes tearing up and choked-back sobs).

The day has been a whirlwind, and I haven't been able to digest this information. 

The children are napping now, and I wanted to give you all a quick update.

Now that that's done, excuse me whilst I will retreat to a corner and lick my wounds.

There's No Place Like Home

Okay, first of all, I forgot all about my post on Casey Anthony, so when I pulled up my blog and caught sight of the photo of her and O.J., I got a little nervous.  Then I remembered....and it was all good.

Second of all, we are home.

I know you didn't even know we were gone, because I didn't tell you, because I knew y'all might want to come rob my house and steal the big screen TV we scored (for an undetermined amount) at the garage/estate/moving sale down the street.  It was an undetermined amount because we offered them $75 for the TV, Sony keyboard and stand, telescope, cedar chifferobe and boom box.  See, y'all could've got all that and wiped us out.  So I didn't tell you we were leaving.

But now we're back.

As we drove into the drive yesterday evening, I vowed to remind myself how I was feeling right then and there, next time I want to take children on a long car ride.

Y'all....

Some friends of ours offered us a free place to stay in Disney if we went with them, and I declined because of the 12 hour car ride.  That was a smart move.

Thinking I could handle a 6 hour car ride to Destin -- dumb move.  Oh, and then there was the equally hellish 6 hour ride back.

On the way down there, I was sure Tootsie would sleep part of the way.  I am a seasoned Mama by now.  I planned the trip during nap time.  Well the child fought it tooth and nail, and when she finally nodded off, Handy Daddy had to stop to pee.  So we enjoyed that 10 minute nap of hers while it lasted.

On the way back home, she was exhausted because she decided to awaken at 4 am and not go back to sleep.  She was asleep before we got out of Destin.  We enjoyed about 20 minutes and then the Bug had to stop to pee.  So, Tootsie was up an' at 'em again, crying because she was so tired and too uncomfortable in the carseat to sleep.  We endured several hours of this when she finally went back to sleep.  The very minute she nodded off, the Bug said she needed to pee.  I turned around and gave her the look of death and she dared not ask again.  That nap lasted until we hit bumper-to-bumper traffic in Baton Rouge.

I'm telling you, those two car rides were nearly enough to do me in for good.  What I experienced during those trips could only be described as the seventh layer of hell. 

I don't understand what it is about a long car ride that turns my sweet little cherubs into instruments of torture, but I don't plan to volunteer for this madness again anytime soon.

I managed to hold it together for the first 4 1/2 hours but, at that point, I snapped and lost any semblance of sanity and turned into them.  There was a specific moment when it happened, too, for Handy Daddy noticed it, glanced over at me, and began to intervene with pleas to the children to sing happy songs to pass the time.

Isn't it funny how when Mama snaps, Daddy takes over -- and vice versa?  It's like we know that one of us has to remain calm in order to preserve the human race.  Let's face it -- parents invented "good cop, bad cop."  But we weren't doing it to manipulate -- no, rather, to save the children's lives.  It's obviously vital to perpetuating the species.

Don't get me wrong -- the entire vacation was not horrible.

We actually stayed in a fabulous condo for an unbeatable price (you can't beat free).  The beach and the water were gorgeous.  We made some memories.

The Bug enjoyed the beach thoroughly, and even made a friend one day (though they never exchanged names--rude). 

However, Tootsie was not a fan.  The first day, she didn't love the beach.

 The second day, she was angry with the beach.

This is her, pouting and refusing to join us.

The third day, she loathed the beach.  (No pictures here, as I didn't care to capture the crying and screaming...some things are best forgotten.)

Her objection was mainly to the sand.  She requested that it stay off of her, which was impossible to accommodate.

The Bug had no qualms with the sand, as evidenced here.

It rained on the fourth and fifth days, so we didn't venture out to the beach, much to Tootsie's delight.  She did, however, love the pool.  She floated around on her little floaties and kicked her little legs.  She tried to make friends.  She proudly proclaimed her name and age and that she was the Bug's sister to anyone who glanced her way.

We went to the Gulfarium and saw a pretty cool dolphin show. 

This is him doing the "moonwalk".  I can't for the life of me remember his name -- rude.

Tootsie fed a Macaw named "Charlie," who also perched himself on my shoulder for this photo op.  Don't worry -- she was not afraid of the Macaw.  She just didn't want me "handling" her.  She is 2, after all.

So besides the trips there and back, Tootsie's aversion to the sand, and being awakened on the first night by Handy Daddy's vomiting and Tootsie's bad dream and related maniacal screaming (oh, did I forget to mention that), it was an enjoyable vacation.

We arrived home, thoroughly exhausted and more than a little grumpy, bathed everyone and collapsed into our pillows. 

I awoke feeling the same as I did when I hit the pillow the night before, since the girls decided to wake up before 7 am.  I mean, really????

I huffed and puffed and grumped my way through preparing breakfast and insisting they eat what I prepared and insisting they drink from the cup I picked and insisting that they stop whining about the meal and the cup and don't they know I'm tired and I have to take their car seats apart and wash them because they're disgusting now because they acted like animals in the car and...

...and Tootsie comes walking in like this and I succumb to the belly laughs that are inevitable when a child walks in with carseat arm rest pads on her feet like slippers.

Of course, hearing the laughter coming from Handy Daddy and me, the Bug had to take a turn being goofy.

Man, after the week I had, I needed that.

If only she could have clicked the heels of those "slippers" together and gotten us home like Dorothy Gayle got herself back to Kansas.

That would have been money.

Two Peas in a Pod

Okay, I thought this was pretty funny, and although it doesn't really "flow" with this post, I had to include it.

So many people are angry about the not guilty verdict handed down to Casey Anthony. 
Is she guilty? I believe so.

When a child drowns in a pool, she ends up in an ambulance, a hospital, a funeral home.

She does not end up in the woods with duct tape on her face.

Did the prosecution prove their case? No.

Did the jury do the right thing? Yes.

What seems obvious to us and probably the jury, too, was not enough to convict her. Her defense did not add up, but the prosecution had no proof.

Infuriating and sad. But we don't have the last word.

The LORD is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished.  Numbers 14:18 (NIV)

If she killed that baby, she will give an account to God for what she did.  So we don't have to worry about justice for Caylee.  Who cares more about Caylee -- us or the One who created her?

And the heavens proclaim his righteousness, for he is a God of justice.  Psalm 50:6 (NIV)

My first cousin, Jason, was murdered 5 years ago.  He was two months older than me, and we grew up together.

His death was by far the most difficult to accept in my lifetime so far.

He was so young, and it was such a senseless act.

His killer was caught, tried, convicted and is in prison.  He did not go free, but he has never admitted he was wrong.  He claimed he killed Jason in self-defense, which is just a further slap in the face of those who love Jason.

I have only seen Jason's killer in photos.  Maybe things would be different if I saw him face to face, but I feel no anger toward him.

The only thing I feel is a strong desire to hear him admit his wrong. 

My desire is not that he suffer and "burn in hell."

My desire is that he confess and ask forgiveness from God and Jason's family.

And I also pray that he finds salvation in Jesus.

Could we also pray the same for Casey Anthony?

Could we let this go and "let God," and pray that she confess and seek forgiveness?

I hope so.





Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggety Dog

Okay, finally, I am getting to this.  Bad, bad, Mama.

My Tootsie turned 2 last week!  T-W-O!

I mean...it's all downhill from here, right!???

I just recently read in one of those baby magazines that this (the third) year is the hardest.  Out of the first, second, third and fourth, the third year won by a landslide in the mommy vote.

I concur.

I know I'm just beginning the third year, but I know.

It ain't my first rodeo.  I give you Exhibit A.

This is the Bug, smack dab in the middle o' the third year.  And this is the way I most enjoyed her at that age.

Y'all -- it was rough.

Things improved a lot in the next two years, but that year was H.A.R.D.

Don't get me wrong -- I ain't scared.  No, I was scared the first time around.  But I got my sea legs and I'm ready to take it on.

I'm not looking forward to taking it on.  But I won't be beat.  For the love of all that is holy, I am going to win this battle.

I will get through this year, and I will be standing tall at the end of it.  Come next year, around birthday time, this will be me.

I will ride down main street in a convertible and the  crowds will be lining the streets, cheering me on.  I will give a smug smile, and wave, kinda like this (except much younger and cuter).

[sigh]

Oh, yeah, back to Tootsie.

She had a birthday.

We actually had a ginormous party for the two of them, since their birthdays are 9 days (and 3 years) apart.

We rocked the Minnie and Mickey Clubhouse (which really just means we set up some wading pools and sprinklers in the back yard and made them run around back there for an hour or so).

We had a scavenger hunt (find Pluto's bouncy ball) and a sack race (Hootenanny Hop).  I have no photographic evidence of either.  FAIL.

But I do have a fantastic shot of Tootsie where it appears Gene Simmons' makeup artist had a go at her.

This is the result of the black icing on these bad boys....made my Mama herself.

Mmm-hmmmm...

Oh, and Tootsie's Nanny T got her a stepstool just like the Bug got when she turned two.  Tootsie immediately commenced to dancing  to "I've Been Everywhere Man."  (You will recall that was the song for the Bug's dance revue.)

That is Handy Daddy's arm holding up the iPhone playing the song for her.  Can't dance without the tunes, you know.

How on earth did we survive childhood without cell phones and such?  Anyway, it's best I don't chase that rabbit.

Then, if all that wasn't enough to send Mama and Daddy to the ER with a case of "exhaustion" (that's what the celebrities call their nervous breakdowns), we had another run on her actual birthday five days later.

All I gotta' say is them kids better work hard and save up, 'cuz they gonna' have to set Mama up in a phat mother-in-law suite when I'm old.

Mama don't play 'dat.

Step One! We can have lots of fun...

My baby girl did have her 2^nd birthday this week, and I will get to that at some point.  But I have to tell you all something really exciting that happened to Mama yesterday. 

The 12 year old girl inside Mama had her dreams come true last night.

I saw New Kids on the Block – LIVE in concert.

It all started a few days ago, when my friend Jodie blogged about one of her best memories of her teenage years being her dad bringing home tickets to a New Kids concert.  I left a comment there, professing my love for them as well.  I kidded that we should try to score some tickets to the concert this weekend, since our kids are too young to be embarrassed by their mamas squealing like little girls at a boy band concert.

I had no idea that was to be a prophetic comment.

I never did hear “Thus sayeth the Lord….”

But I woke up yesterday morning with a text from Jodie asking if I could go if she got free tickets to the NKOTB concert. 

My heart sank. 

I was to be driving with Handy Daddy to Shreveport to attend his brother’s graduation ceremony. 

I mentioned Jodie’s text to Daddy.  He looked at me, puzzled….then said, “Well, you can go if you want to.”

I raced back to the phone to text Jodie and the rest is history.

I dropped the kiddos off for a sleepover and went back home to an empty house.

Just me and the NKOTB videos.

That’s right – I dug them out of the storage closet. 

Three VHS tapes I’ve had since I was about 11 or 12.  I almost sold them at a garage sale a few years ago, but Handy Daddy convinced me not to. 

Boy, am I glad he did.  Those things came in handy. 

You see, my internet has been down for three days, so I couldn’t brush up on my lyrics by watching YouTube. 

Thank goodness for my trusty VHS tapes and player. 

Oh, I sat with the remote and the memories came flooding back.

I had much love for them boys when I was a tween.  And that love has lain dormant for many years.

(I searched high and low for a photo of myself sportin' my gigantic New Kids buttons, but to no avail! If I ever come across them, I'll be sure to update.)

I giggled with excitement watching the videos.  But I also thought to myself, “Okay, this is going to be so cheesy.  But I can’t believe I’m finally going to SEE them.” 

Have you ever had a dream and it never came true???  And then, many years later when the dream didn’t matter anymore, it happens, and you’re not sure what to make of it??

That’s what happened to me yesterday.

Let’s be real.

I am not the same person I was when I loved them boys.

All I wanted when I was 12 years old was to marry Donnie Wahlberg and ride around the country with him on his tour bus, turning my nose up at all the girls throwing themselves at my man.

Pahahahahaha!!!!!

If that’s not ridiculous, I don’t know what is.

Here I am, 33 years old, happily married with 2 beautiful children. 

I am not going to show up at the New Kids concert, catch Donnie Wahlberg’s eye, and ride off into the sunset with him on his tour bus.

No, there was no chance of that.  The whole thing is just absurd.

That’s what was so funny about this whole experience.

I was going to the concert I desperately wanted to go to over 20 years ago, with a completely different agenda.

I just wanted to have fun.

And boy did I.

Like I said, I thought this would be cheesy and couldn’t possibly imagine myself squealing or even getting out of my seat.

Y’all…

I had the BEST time I’ve had in a long time, and I’ve got the ringing ears and raspy voice to prove it.

Jodie, her sister, Jamie, my cousin, Olivia, and I (four of us) danced, waved, screamed and laughed for about 3 hours straight.

This is us before the show.  Try not to get sucked into Jamie's stare.

It was a great show, and the New Kids still got the moves! 

Unfortunately we didn’t have time to prepare and make signs like some of the other concertgoers.  We caught sight of these beauties:

“Make Out With Me!”

“My Husband said I could have all of you!”

“Joey’s Cajun B#$%CH”

No, we could only dream of being so classy.  Maybe next time, girls.

A highlight for Jodie:  Donnie said “unequivocabacly,” and then, realizing he butchered it, laughed and said, “clearly” in its stead.

Oh, and the Backstreet Boys were there, too.  They were after my time, so I really don’t have much to say about them, but I took a picture of them for your viewing pleasure.

You’re welcome.

Something  that surprised us all was the number of GUYS at this concert.  We were convinced these were couples in the early stages of dating, and the guys were just puttin’ in their time. 

We got quite a bit of laughter watching this guy right in front of us.  He sat there eating his ginormous plate of nachos and drinking beer through almost the entire show.  At one point, he leaned over to his girl and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”  He did come back and finish his nachos and beer.  Poor guy.  You know he’s wrapped.

But coming back to the New Kids…

They sang all the old songs and put on a great show.

Donnie told me I was his Cover Girl.  He also changed the lyrics from be my bride to get married and live in Louisiana.  This sparked much laughter, since the vast majority of the crowd is already married.  Sorry, Donnie, but you’re too late.  I couldn’t wait 20 years for you.  Biological clock tickin’ and all.

Joey begged me to please, don’t go girl.  That would, apparently, ruin his whole world.

Jordan pledged his love to me forever.  Just as long as I want him to be.

Apparently, I have the right stuff, and I’m their favorite girl.

I mean, really…

What more could a exhausted 33 year-old mother of two girl ask for?

Chunk Family

Even if you haven't seen Toy Story 3 (you should, 'cuz it's awesome), you will appreciate this.

We were reading bedtime stories tonight, and the Bug picked out a Toy Story reader.

Tootsie pointed to this picture and said, "Mommy Chunk."

Then she pointed to this one and said, "Daddy Chunk."

[insert evil voice and maniacal laughter]  My plans are working!!  [more maniacal laughter]


Just so you don't think she was referring to a generic "Chunk family", she pointed to this next picture and said, "Tootsie Bug."

Das' right -- we was all reppa'zented y'all.  

As a side note to Mimi (and, more importantly, to cover my hiney) :  I am only joking -- you can cancel the hit on me.

But, seriously, if you haven't seen Toy Story 3, go out and get it right now!  That's some funny stuff!

This is one of my favorite parts.  Ken meets Barbie.  If you can watch this and not laugh, then there's something wrong witcha'.

Another year, another tear

I'm a little late on this, but the Bug turned the big oh-five on Tuesday, and I'm not sure what to think of it.  I didn't get all sad or freaked out about it like I thought I would.

In a way, it's just another number, just like all the rest.  But, in another way, it seems so...BIG.  Turning five is a big deal right?  Starting kindergarten soon, old enough to go to camp...

I keep wondering why I'm not crying.  Will the tears flow like a river on the first day of school???

I do think about how FAST it has gone, and it kinda makes me queasy.  If the first five years flew by this fast, will the rest?  Oh, Lord, let her go to a local college.  Let her live at home until she's married.  And let her wait until she's 30 to get married.

I know this is not the right stuff to be praying.  I just don't know what I'm GOING.TO.DO!!!!

I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.  But it's going by so quickly, it seems as though the time is getting ahead of me.

What I want to know is this -- why didn't time go by this fast when I was a kid???  I feel like I been robbed!

Well, I'll quit playing my violin long enough to tell you this.

The other day, I was loving on her and she said something about turning five in a few days.  I said, "I know, I can't believe it!  It makes me sad!  My little baby is growing so fast."

This is what the Bug said to me.  "Oh, Mama, I'll always be your baby."

Yes, the tears did flow then.  That was some healing salve to a heavy heart is what it was.  That girl is so wise.  She knew just what her Mama needed to hear.

So I'll just keep watching while my baby grows.

I am comforted by the fact that when I watch her sleep, I can still see that little baby chin....those little baby lips...those big baby eyes.  My little baby is still in that little body that keeps getting longer by the second.

God, I love that kid.

Happy Birthday, Bug!

I've Been Everywhere, Man

Just a quick post to let you all know I survivied the First Dance Revue.

Lawd, have mercy!

Had I known what a fiasco this entire process would be, I might not have been so quick to sign up for it. 

Will I do it again, you ask?

Of course. 

That's what mamas do. Just like a wise man Antoine Dodson once said...sometimes, we are so dumb.  We are really dumb.  Fo' real.

So here is the Bug on dress rehearsal night.  That's the night I sat in the audience and watched.  'Cause I signed up to be a stage mom on revue night. 

Sometimes, we are so dumb.  We are really dumb.  Fo' real.

Last night was the actual Revue... the real deal.

And afterwards, she was showered with roses by all of her adoring fans.

Then she got her gift from Mama and Daddy, which she loved (and Tootsie also loved). 

Imagine the fighting which ensued as Tootsie tried to get her grubby little fingers on the goods.

Sometimes, we are so dumb.  We are really dumb.  Fo' real.

What can I say?  I am a fool for her.  Fo' real.

Tootsie, the Parrot

I had a Pampered Chef party a few weeks ago, and one of my friends, Caroline, came over yesterday to retrieve her goodies from said party.

She was smitten by Tootsie (it is inevitable, you know).  Tootsie told her, "Bye Miss Caroline!" in her sweet singsong voice and Mrs. Caroline melted.  She asked if she could have that as her ring tone. 

Well, seeing as I have no earthly idea how to create a ring tone, and couldn't even figure out how to email this video to Caroline because the file was too big, I've uploaded it here for Mrs. Caroline's (and your) enjoyment.

That's the best I could do, Caroline!  I hope you enjoy, and maybe you could get one of your minions to create a ring tone for you.  Because we know who holds all the power at YOUR office.

Oh, and "Cheese!" is what Tootsie keeps saying, as she thought I was going to photograph her.  Quite the little model, she is.

She also slipped in "Bye-Bye, Tara!"  That's just for you, Nanny-T.  She knows where her bread is buttered...

Happy Friday, ma Peeps!

Youth is wasted on the young

My birthday is today.  I am 33!  I have finally reached the age Handy Daddy was the day we tied the knot.

Circa 2002

 I've done a lot of growing in that time.  Man....I am so grown up.  I don't feel older, but I feel so much wiser.  And happier.  And more content.  Youth really is wasted on the young.

Anyway...

I had an amazing birthday weekend!  I don't think it could've been any better.

We started out on Friday afternoon.  Some of my BFFs and I headed to Baton Rouge for some much needed girl time.  We shopped and ate at our usual Baton Rouge girl spot -- P.F. Chang's.  Mmmmmmmm...good stuff.  Then we got gelato at Whole Foods.  We actually made three trips to Whole Foods in two days.  Then up on Saturday morning to hit the outlet mall.  I looooooovvvvveeee the outlet mall.  I had a great time.  Oh, and we laughed A LOT.

Handy Daddy did just fine at home with the girls while I was gone 30 hours.  Don't fret...I have a call in to the Queen to have him knighted. 

They did venture out to buy Mama a chocolate dobash cake.  Again, score for Handy Daddy.

My dad, grandfather, godchild and mother-in-law joined us to partake of same dobash cake.

I enjoyed EVERY.MINUTE of my birth weekend, including all of the calls from all my peeps I didn't get to see today.  I love y'all!

As a side note, Tootsie ate her first piece of meat today (in her whole life, and she'll be 2 next month).  This is because she has been a vegetarian by her own choice thus far, so imagine our surprise when she ate almost an entire slice of a Dupe Special pizza from Pizza Village.  Sausage, pepperoni and shrimp.  The girl jumps in head first, huh?

Back to the grind tomorrow.  Can't wait 'till next year. 

Oh, but first, Survivor finale tonight!  Go Matt!  or Mike!

How to tell if you're a little nutty, if your kids are spoiled, and other less negative things

 You might be nutty if...

...you take photos of your children's toys and think of silly newspaper headlines to go with them.

Barbie nearly electrocuted by hairdryer in toilet -- rips lid off toilet in fit of rage...

Just so you know I'm not a complete lunatic, I did NOT pose the toys before photographing.  This was Tootsie's work.  I just thought it was too funny.

But I did  pose this one of Ariel.  Poor Ariel's hair was so...ahem...nappy...I couldn't bear it anymore.  I brushed it out, which took quite a bit of time, and braided it.  This resulted in a little hair loss, as evidenced by the pile of red hair next to her.  Sorry, Ariel.  

So we did the usual for Easter.  Some egg dying, hunting and pacque pacque, which is basically like an egg war.  Two people each have an egg -- they hit them to together and whoever has a broken egg at the end of that is the loser. 

I have no photos documenting any of this, except for the one of the Bug dyeing eggs above.  Fail.

Checking out their loot.

If you got tickets to Disney on Ice in your Easter Basket when you were 4, wouldn't you have been excited?  Or maybe peed in your pants a little bit?

Could she BE more indifferent?

On another note, no pretty Easter dresses for us -- it was HOT HOT!  Or as we say in the Platte, "Ca fais chaud!"