I know I have beaten this horse to death

Have I mentioned that we went on a road trip for Spring Break? I can’t really remember.

I solemnly vow that after today I will never speak of it again.

Here are Caroline’s thoughts on our Spring Break.

Spring Break from Big Mama on Vimeo.

Here are my thoughts on her thoughts:

1. Yes, it’s hard not to notice that she’s wearing camo, but she always likes to note what she’s wearing. I don’t know where she gets it.

Also, for those of you familiar with Waco, TX (you have my deepest sympathies) that is a shirt from George’s Bar. I realize it’s probably a little inappropriate for my child to wear a shirt advertising a bar, but it’s rare to find hot pink and camo living together in peace and harmony so we had to buy it.

2. Jackson really was her first friend. However, I’m not sure Will was her third considering that she really wanted nothing to do with him until he started to talk.

3. Yesterday was my day to help out in her classroom and I arrived in time to hear the kids go around in a circle and tell about their Spring Breaks. When it got to Caroline, she said, “We went to Houston and I bought these new shoes.”

I’m so glad that’s what stands out.

Also, it’s hard to tell from the video, but she chose the most understated, simple shoes she could find.

They’re very subtle. Did I mention they light up and provide enough illumination for incoming aircrafts to land?

4. Is it just me or does she totally channel Salley O’Malley there at the end? She can kick. She can stretch. She can kick.

That’s what I thought.

What’s left of me

Well, between the Aggies losing to Purdue in the NCAA tournament and the government trying to be the boss of me and the four new gray hairs that sprouted overnight in the region of my bangs, I’ve got a bad case of the Mondays. And technically it’s only Sunday night.

Of course it doesn’t help that Spring Break is officially over and we have to go back to the real world with all its daylight savings time nonsense, especially since this was the first time in the history of Caroline’s life that she fully embraced the concept of staying up late equals sleeping in late.

We made it back home on Friday afternoon after another big day of fun. One of the first things Caroline noticed after we checked into our hotel room was the big menu on the night stand that read “Breakfast in Bed”. And so, after a little campaigning on her part, I agreed that we could order room service on Friday morning.

A diva is born.

She ate at least three bites of her $20 pancakes and $8 eggs (Apparently room service is run by the same people who work on government budgets.) so it was totally worth it. Plus, she really needed her energy because we had a big morning of ice skating at The Galleria ahead of us.

I wish I had a picture to share, but if you think I’m coordinated enough to balance on ice skates and take photos at the same time, then you have grossly overestimated my skill level. It took all my energy and balance to stay upright and not humiliate myself in front of three levels of Galleria shoppers.

Caroline was a little disappointed because she wasn’t as good as she remembered herself being. This came as no surprise to me, especially since she spent most of the Winter Olympics telling me that the female figure skaters were “pretty good”, but she couldn’t help but notice that none of them showed her talent for being able to clap to the rhythm of “We Are the Champions” by Queen while skating at the same time, which was a skill she picked up at a friend’s birthday party back in January.

I tried to explain that it usually takes more than two times to really be good at something and that many of those Olympic Skaters had probably skated three or maybe even four times before they were ready for the Olympic Games. Finally, somewhere between five and too many laps around the ice, she was ready to call it a day. It probably helped that I noticed a bungee jump in the food court and decided that $7.00 wasn’t too much to pay to put an end to sliding on a slippery surface with razor blades on my feet with thirty-eight year old ankles that are unreliable at best.

So she bungee jumped and then we walked around the Galleria for a while and, oh, how my heart wanted to really shop, but it wasn’t going to happen. There was a shirt in Zara that I’m still thinking about and it was only FIFTEEN DOLLARS. Or maybe a little bit more than that. The details are vague. But finally we just ordered some drinks from Sonic and hit the road.

The minute I walked in the house, I realized how tired I was from the week. But I powered through and unpacked our bags and started a load of laundry because I knew once I sat down that it would be hours, if ever, before I got up again.

P and I visited in the kitchen while Caroline played in the backyard. (I can’t even bear to tell you that in the last ten minutes of our drive she asked if we could go roller-skating when we got home. Seriously.) We talked about what we wanted to do about dinner, which led me to ask him what he’d done about food all week long. He confessed that he’d lived on leftover sloppy joes until he ran out and then ordered pizza one night and sushi another night. Oh, and he’d also made a trip to HEB to buy essentials that consisted of the following:

Vanilla Duncan Hines frosting
Promised Land chocolate milk
bag of Kit Kats
one Terry’s Chocolate Orange
Honey-Mustard Fritos
six pack of Dos Equis

At least all the major food groups were represented. Assuming that you’re twenty-one and live in a fraternity house.

On Saturday, he took Caroline to the ranch and I sat on the couch in my pajamas with the remote control by my side and didn’t move all day long. It was my own personal Spring Break and it involved hours of reality television and yelling, “OH MY WORD!” at the end of “24” which was so satisfying because the previews had promised this would be the episode that would make me freak out and for once they were actually right. Unlike last year when I had to suspend all disbelief when some terrorists scuba-dived their way into the White House.

By Sunday it was inevitable that I was going to have to make a trip to the store. I mean, not that the Honey Mustard Fritos aren’t totally delicious but they don’t really constitute a school lunch or a well-balanced meal. Caroline went with me and asked if we could buy two cans of Campbell’s Chicken and Stars soup. I told her we could and she said, “OH MAMA. YOU ARE THE NICEST MAMA EVER! NOT MANY MAMAS BUY THEIR KIDS TWO CANS OF CHICKEN AND STARS SOUP!”

Which totally seals it. Next Spring Break, we’re going to HEB and buying two cans of Chicken and Stars soup.

And maybe a bag of Kit Kats.

Fashion Friday: Edition no fashion for you


I am a mere reflection of the woman I was four days ago because Spring Break has beaten me like a rented circus monkey. If there ever comes a time when Caroline questions my love and devotion for her, I’m going to send her the links from this past week.

(I nearly said I’d email her the links, but let’s not even pretend that email will exist by then. I’ll probably just transmit them through brain waves complete with an Apple logo.)

Yesterday we went to the Houston Zoo. Along with everyone else who happened to be in Houston. And if you’ve been reading here for any length of time, then you may recall that I don’t even like the zoo.

(Although the Houston Zoo holds a special place in my heart because it is the zoo of my childhood. It’s the zoo where I went on an elementary school field trip wearing a terry cloth short suit that read “Huff and Puff” in big orange letters across the front. The seventies were a weird decade.)

So after my initial disappointment that the sea lions aren’t still in that giant blue pool that used to be the first thing you saw when you walked in, it was a good day. It almost made me forget how much I dislike zoos.

Plus, the weather was gorgeous. If you don’t believe me, you can ask any one of the 2,546,987 people that were there at the same time.

And so I don’t have a fashion post today because I have to go to bed. Like now.

Although Caroline would like you to know that she heard from the giraffes that giraffe prints are all the rage this season.

(Bless her heart, she is just barely containing her enthusiasm in that picture.)

Oh, and white tiger prints may be in style at some point. But only if you work out at Gold’s Gym and wear weight-lifting pants.

I hope you find this information helpful.

Y’all have a great weekend.