Author: Big Mama

Okay, so today is a different kind of post. And y’all know I rarely promote anything here unless it’s something I feel strongly about. Which explains Fashion Friday because I feel strongly about cute tops and jeans that fit well and a good wedge heel. Amen.

Several years ago someone told me about a blog called Bring the Rain written by Angie Smith. At the time I’d never heard of Angie, but I read a post she’d written called The Past and The Pitcher and thought it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever read. I was hooked.

Over time we’ve exchanged emails and I’ve walked her through some questions she had regarding tying scarves and then I finally got to spend some time with her in person this past June and, oh my word y’all, she is one of my favorite people ever. In fact, if I ever move to Nashville (which will never happen because P won’t leave Texas EVER.) Angie would be one of the reasons why.

Some may call that stalking. I prefer to use the term friendship.

I just think the world of her as a writer, a mother, a friend, and someone who makes me laugh until I hyperventilate. So I’d be excited about her new book no matter what the subject. However, the title of her new book is What Women Fear: Walking in Faith That Transforms and I don’t know about you but I tend to struggle with the fear.

In fact, I can go to a place of fear in sixteen seconds. It’s true. How else do you explain that I’ve diagnosed myself with over eighteen fatal illnesses courtesy of WebMd over the last four months? By the way, P has forbidden me from googling any more medical symptoms. There’s plenty of crazy here already thank you.

On Saturday I had lunch with a friend. She told me she hadn’t slept well the night before because she’d watched a movie that freaked her out and she spent the rest of the night envisioning all these terrible scenarios that could happen. And it really hit me, I think all women struggle with fear.

(If you don’t, please email me and tell me what it feels like.)

And that’s why I adore Angie’s book. It put into words so many of the things I struggle with and then discusses how to deal with those fears in an effective way. Because apparently getting on Google is not the answer.

Here’s an excerpt from the book description:

“Rather than suggesting that those who truly love the Lord would never fear, Angie blends her own experiences with those of men and women from throughout Scripture to help us start dealing more effectively with these true, human emotions. Whether it’s a constant ‘What if?’, a nagging fear of abandonment or betrayal, fear of your own or someone else’s death, fear of trusting God’s plan, or even the fear that God’s existence is a lie, Angie will walk you through stories of others who have simultaneously loved God and struggled with fear.”

Doesn’t that make you want to read this book? Then I have some GOOD NEWS. It officially releases on September 1, but here’s how you can pre-order a copy for 50% off today.

Barnes and Noble has really supported Angie both for I Will Carry You as well as with What Women Fear and are doing an exciting one day online pre-sale today, Monday, August 22. If you pre-order a copy today at Barnesandnoble.com/WhatWomenFear you will get 50% off, so the book is only $7.49. In addition, if you order the book today at Barnes and Noble online, email your order confirmation to [email protected] to be entered to win one of two prize packs of 10 books from B&H Women as well as a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card.

I also thought you might like to watch this video promo.

Okay, what are you waiting for? Go pre-order your copy for 50% off. That’s only $7.49.

And you can’t even get two gallons of gas for that price.

Yesterday morning I woke up and cooked a semi-nutritious breakfast for Caroline and her friends. After all, I have more pride than to let those girls go home and tell their mothers about their delicious breakfast of chocolate Pop-tarts. So I scrambled eggs and cooked sausage just like I was Betty Draper. Except Betty Draper wouldn’t be caught dead in pink plaid pajama pants and an old gray t-shirt that reads “Texas A&M Football ’94”.

Which is really her loss.

And kind of reminds me that I haven’t mentioned the whole A&M to the SEC thing over the last few days. I guarantee it’s not because it hasn’t been on my mind. I spent the better part of my weekend doing extensive research about the whole thing and it just about put me in the bed on Sunday when the SEC came out and announced they were happy with their existing twelve teams.
But then I learned that may all be a part of what is known as FANCY legal maneuvering to avoid a lawsuit. Not to mention that A&M’s Board of Regents gave our president, Dr. “Bowtie” Loftin authority to make any necessary decisions regarding athletic conference realignment. Ultimately the whole thing still looks pretty good at this point. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from leaving comments about your brother’s friend’s uncle who knows “someone” in the legislature or the Big XII or lives next door to Dan Beebe who knows it will never happen. That kind of speculation is the kind of thing that will leave me in a tailspin for the rest of the day. It leads me down a path that is obsessive at best and unhealthy at worst.

Thank you.

Honestly, I wasn’t even going to bring any of that up. Because I have more important matters to discuss. I spent most of yesterday cleaning out my desk drawer, the playroom, Caroline’s bathroom and our laundry room. I still have miles to go but it was a start and it led to four full trash bags of things being hauled out of our house. Hallelujah and amen.

But it was in the midst of this clean out that I discovered something going on under my own roof that I was unaware of. I’m usually a big believer in not airing dirty laundry in a public forum, but I feel like we need some help.

Barbie was spotted naked planking in our bathroom.

At first I thought it was just a one time thing, but then I found her friend doing the same thing on the American Girl doll’s beauty shop chair.

Needless to say, I’m not sure the American Girl dolls are going to get over it. They were shocked and horrified. But one confided to me that she’d always suspected Barbie might be a bit fast. Especially since she got that Hot Tub Party Bus last Christmas along with those faux leather pants.

Nothing good ever comes of faux leather pants.

The last straw was late yesterday afternoon when I walked in to witness this spectacle.

Oh Barbie.

She has taken her friends down with her. Even the brunette. I’m all for getting on board a trend, but I think this has gone to far.

I feel like there needs to be some sort of intervention. We need to let her know that this kind of thing might fly in some playrooms, but not at our house.

Or it might just be time to send Barbie and her friends packing on their Hot Tub Party Bus.

Yesterday I spent our fourteenth anniversary just like I imagined I would when I wore that beautiful white dress and pledged my life to the man I loved; taking three little girls roller-skating and then back to my house for a sleep over.

I asked P if he wanted to go with us and even promised that we could couple skate in honor of our special day, but he turned me down flat. I’m not sure all the reasons why, however, I have my suspicions that he isn’t sure if he can still skate backwards. And everyone knows all the cool boys could do the backwards skate during couple skate as opposed to just the side by side hand-holding version.

Or maybe he just wanted to spend a relaxing afternoon at home instead of careening around a rink on wheels while listening to Ke$ha sing inappropriate songs. Either way, I took the girls and even roller-skated with them because I laugh in the face of easy ways to potentially spend time in the ER.

Please note that two of the three rocked a side ponytail.

That’s a lot of look for the roller rink.

Truthfully we’re going to go out later this week and celebrate. We just postponed things because it worked out better schedule-wise for everyone. Plus, it’s not like we have to celebrate on the EXACT day since we’re going to be together forever. AND EVER.

While we were at the skating rink there was an injury that required them to clear the floor. I couldn’t see exactly what happened, but there was a woman down on the far side of the rink and it appeared she’d incurred some sort of leg injury. Ultimately they had to bring out one of those rolling ergonomic desk chairs to roll her off the rink. And all I could think was Dear Jesus, I will be eternally grateful to you that it wasn’t me being rolled off the rink in front of God and everybody on a desk chair.

Can you imagine?

“How was your day, dear?”

“Well, I had to be rolled off the roller-skating rink in a desk chair in front of the PTO president before making a trip to the ER to get my leg put in a cast.”

Needless to say, I did not skate with the same enthusiasm I’d had prior to that whole scene playing out. Even when they played Car Wash by Rose Royce and that song always makes me want to make wax on/wax off hand motions.

After the girls and I were sufficiently worn out from all the skating we drove to Sonic in search of cold drinks. We waited in the drive-through line until it was time to place our order.

“We’ll have two medium cherry-limeades, a Route 44 Diet coke and a lemon-berry slush.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Our ice machine isn’t working.”

“What?”

“Our ice machine isn’t working.”

“Goodbye.”

The ice machine at Sonic wasn’t working. I’m still experiencing some shock and disbelief over the whole thing. No ice at Sonic is like Sonny without Cher. Which, technically, ended up happening in the late 70’s but everyone knows it was never the same after that. Well, except for people born in the 80s and 90s.

So we drove in search of a Sonic with a working ice machine and ordered our drinks. Then we headed home and the girls spent the next two hours painting each other’s faces. And hands. And legs. And hair. And I let them because it’s not like they could go play outside in the oven known as our backyard.

Then everyone took a shower and I made tacos/nachos/chalupas/whatever you want to make using beans, beef, chips, and cheese. Currently, they are in the living room watching Swiss Family Robinson and I am hiding out in the bedroom. Because if they see me they might decide they’re hungry again and I think I’m out of food.

I’m also out of face paint.

But at least I wasn’t wheeled off the roller rink today in a desk chair.

Well, let’s see. This weekend was fairly uneventful. We went to movie night at our church on Friday night and then Saturday Caroline went swimming with some friends and then she and P went to the ranch. I went to Banana Republic and found a cute top on sale for $15.00 (It really was $15.00. I know I say that all the time, but this time it’s the truth. I’m like the clotheshorse who cried wolf.) and then picked up veggie tacos and watched a movie. Oh, and I turned forty yesterday.

And woke up having a hot flash and had to pluck three gray hairs out of my head before I left for church.

Then I got home from church, checked my email and had an e-card from my dermatologist.

Offering me $50 off Botox treatments.

Perfect.

But, honestly, I’m okay with forty. Yes I have some gray hair and, sure, my metabolism seems to have picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, but I’m happy with where I am right now. The thirties were all about settling into married life, becoming a mother, learning how to get the smell of rotten sippy cup out of my car, and trading in corporate life to be a homeroom mom. They were about finding my way and getting used to being called “ma’am”.

So I guess the forties will be about helping Caroline through her pre-teen and teenage years, following where God leads, taking multiple vitamin supplements in an attempt to hold back the hands of time and getting reacquainted with Jillian Michaels and The Shred. A friend of mine, who is in her forties and very wise, says the forties are like a crossing over for a woman. It’s a new beginning of sorts.

I choose to believe that.

A few weeks ago I read a quote by Max Lucado that I’d never read before. “The difference between mercy and grace? Mercy gave the prodigal son a second chance. Grace gave him a feast.”

I feel like when I turned thirty I’d accepted God’s mercy and was so grateful that he’d saved me from myself and a steady stream of bad decisions.

But yesterday, as I spent some time by myself and thought about all my thirties have brought me, I realized it was the decade God showed me what grace really looks like.

Because when I look at life, even with all the ups and downs and good and bad and things that haven’t turned out the way I wanted, I realize he has blessed me with so much more than I could have imagined. My friends, my family, P and my baby girl.

He has given me a feast.