Author: Big Mama

Do you remember way back on Friday when I said I had a really great giveaway planned for today? Well, I wasn’t lying. I have a great giveaway today.

If you aren’t familiar with Tracy Porter, then you’re about to fall in love. Click on over to my giveaway page to discover some serious fabulousness and enter for a chance to win.

I could go into some big elaborate reasons for why I’m talking in bullet points today. That is, if big and elaborate could be qualified by BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT.

1. I’m sure you’ll all be relieved to know that the tooth has landed. I repeat, the tooth has landed.

It was still hanging on when I picked Caroline up from school yesterday so we drove to HEB and bought some Orajel. I put some on her gums, she gave the tooth a good tug, and out it came. She was so excited that she knocked over a full glass of water and dropped the tooth on the floor. Chaos and pandemonium ensued.

But, in the end, the tooth was located and all was well. It is currently awaiting pickup by the tooth fairy.

Caroline looks so dang cute with her little snaggletooth I can hardly stand it. I could sop her up with a biscuit.

2. I’d been keeping Gulley apprised of the tooth situation for the last few days, so I called her to tell her the news. As soon as she answered the phone I said, “THE TOOTH IS OUT”.

She gasped and asked, “ABOUT WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?”

It would seem she thought I’d said, “THE TRUTH IS OUT” and thought I was on the verge of some sort of confession. Which is hilarious considering that if Gulley doesn’t know something about me, it’s only because it isn’t true. She knows it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

But I appreciated her enthusiasm for some potential drama.

3. Last night I dreamed that the message light came on in my car to notify me that my tuxedo was ten years old and I needed a new one. I woke up completely stressed out over the thought of having to buy a new tuxedo.

Needless to say, I was so relieved when I became conscious enough to realize I don’t own a tuxedo and, furthermore, don’t need one.

4. I’ve recently gotten on a sparkling water kick. I pour it over ice and then squeeze in a ton of lime juice. It’s become my nightly mocktail.

My sparkling water of choice has been Topo Chico because I like the way the bottles look. Kind of retro and vintage-y. But then P pointed out that most people don’t typically think of Mexico as the source for great water, much less do they pay for it in bottles no matter how cute they may be.

He makes a good point.

5. I finally committed to a pair of neutral-colored wedge heels. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.

They look like this except mine have cork wedge heels which I think makes them much cuter.

I bought mine at Rack Room. And of course I only paid $15.00.

6. Sometime last week my friend was complaining about getting hormone-related blemishes (Yes, blemish. It’s the only word I can tolerate for facial issues. The other ones gross me out.)

I made a huge error in judgement and said, “You know, I have other hormone-related issues such as wanting to throw the toaster out the kitchen window on occasion, but I don’t really get many blemishes”. And less than 24 hours later, I had something on my face that looked like a third eye. When I looked at it in the magnifying mirror it growled at me.

Gulley helped a sister out and told me about a miracle in a tube. Neutrogena On-the-Spot Acne Treatment. She said it would be gone the next day and I didn’t believe her. That’s just what people say to make you feel better.

But it was. IT WAS GONE THE NEXT DAY.

(This is not a paid endorsement. It’s just love.)

7. Friday Night Lights starts tomorrow night at 7 p.m. on NBC. If you’ve never watched, you need to go get the first four seasons and watch them before then. Or you could pace yourself, whatever.

8. We still don’t have beveled glass in our front door. Is anyone surprised?

9. I realize I haven’t announced the next book club selection. That’s because I haven’t decided on it yet.

10. There is no ten. Except now there is. But there’s nothing here.

Have a great day.

I was really hoping something interesting and exciting would happen today, but unless you count that I finally managed to clean off the majority of the junk piled up on the island in my kitchen, we’re fresh out of interesting around here.

Our day started a little late because I let Caroline sleep in a little late. I figure no one ever claims the reason they didn’t get into Harvard was because they missed the first hour of second grade. If she doesn’t get into Harvard it will be for reasons directly related to her gene pool, specifically having a mother who graduated from college while on scholastic probation.

(Also, I just told P that I thought Beirut was in Nicaragua.)

(It’s not.)

(It’s in Lebanon.)

(Who says Chuck Norris movies from 1985 aren’t educational?)

(Besides everyone?)

After I dropped her off at school I came home, started some laundry, and attempted to straighten up the house from the wreckage of the weekend. There were sandals and clothes and bows everywhere, thanks to Caroline’s belief that every new activity requires a new outfit. I made a grocery list and cleaned off the island. I believe I’ve already mentioned that.

As for the rest of my day, I went to lunch with Bops and watched The Judds’ new reality show. Bops didn’t watch it with me. I just wanted to be clear about that because he doesn’t believe in reality television unless it involves people in foreign countries trying to buy a house. And, by the way, The Judds’ show is fascinating. It really confirmed for me that Caroline and I should never form a band and spend her teen years on a tour bus together. And that will probably work out seeing as how the only time I’ve ever been offered any money for singing was in the form of “How much money will it take for you to stop?” Because P thinks he is hilarious.

Once I picked up Caroline from school we went directly to HEB to forage for food. And that’s when I began to notice all the talking. I mean, she always talks. She’s a talker. She uses a lot of words. She doesn’t believe in using eight words if she can use sixty-four instead. I have no idea where she gets it.

Our entire trip through HEB was a running commentary about various vegetable selections and why she likes raspberries better than blackberries and did I know that her friend Kai made a weird face at her today at recess and she doesn’t know why he made that face but she didn’t like it and OH! can we get this kind of peanut butter and she didn’t eat her grilled cheese sandwich for lunch because she wasn’t a fan of cheese today and sometimes she thinks her favorite color might be blue but she still really likes pink and sometimes purple.

And then we got home and it was the same thing. All the way through the afternoon and into dinner time. I was so glad to see P walk through the door at the end of the day so he could bear some of the conversational burden. I was out of answers. I was all talked out.

I made stir fry for dinner, in between answering questions about why peppers come in so many different colors and did I remember she didn’t like mushrooms, and then we all sat down at the table to eat together. Needless to say, the conversation was flowing.

Finally, we read bedtime stories and I tucked her into bed. That brings us to the portion of the night where P and I like to place bets on how long before she gets back up and what her excuse will be. Last night, I bet that it would be ten minutes and she’d need to blow her nose or take allergy medicine. P bet that it would be fifteen minutes and her pajamas would be too hot.

We were both wrong.

She walked out of the bedroom about thirty minutes later and said, “I was just about to drift off to sleep when I couldn’t help but notice how cold the sheets are. Will you help me find a pair of socks?”

I didn’t see the sock request coming. Nor did I realize it would be phrased like she’s seven going on sixty-two.

As I got up off the couch to help her find her fuzzy socks, P started to say something and then stopped himself. She’d walked ahead of me into her room so I turned to him and asked, “What were you going to say?”

He said, “I was going to suggest that she ask the monster that lives under her bed to rub her feet to keep them warm.”

While I was so grateful he knew enough to not actually say it, I fell in love with him all over again for thinking of it. Mainly because it reminded me of one of my favorite Far Side cartoons ever.

Nobody makes cartoons like Gary Larson anymore.

And that was our day.

Did I mention I cleaned off my kitchen island? Because I did. I totally did.

When Caroline was about two years old she would do this thing where she’d throw a huge fit about something, because that’s what two year olds do, and then after it was over and she’d calmed down a little, would look at me with a completely innocent expression and ask, “Happen? Happen?”

It was the toddler version of “I realize I just lost my mind but I have no recollection of any of it or what caused such an outburst to transpire”.

And I would answer with, “What happened was you just threw a huge fit for reasons I’m still trying to understand but appears to have something to do with your aversion to eating peas for dinner.”

All that to say that this past weekend was so busy with so many different activities that it has left me sitting on the couch, staring into space asking, “Happen? Happen?” Fortunately I did not throw any sort of temper tantrum that I recall. In fact, I think I made it through the whole thing in one piece and even managed to be social and at times even masqueraded as an extrovert.

And, yet, I will spare you every detail of the weekend because, honestly, who wants to read all that? Not to mention that I should think about going to bed.

On Friday night we ate Mexican food with Bops. Mimi was MIA because she’s been out in California visiting her best friend, so we took it upon ourselves to let Bops take us to dinner before he went home to watch The Masters that he’d recorded earlier to avoid the commercial interruptions.

(Why am I telling you about my dad’s television viewing habits? I should be embarrassed at my lack of mental editing.)

Saturday morning, Caroline had a soccer game. The Magic soundly defeated their opponents 9-2 (not that anyone keeps score except obnoxious mothers in the stands) and Caroline scored three of the goals. Granted, the team they played was made up largely of first graders and you want to know what the difference is between first and second graders? About eight inches and some coordination.

We spent the rest of the day hanging out with Gulley’s boys before we all went to a birthday party later that evening and I’m not kidding when I tell you that we shut it down. Which sounds like an odd statement to make about a three-year-old’s birthday party, but it applies in this situation because the grown-ups probably had more fun than the kids. However, I totally underestimated how tired Caroline was by the end of the evening and that led to a level 10 meltdown over the unfairness of life when it was finally time to leave. Fortunately, we managed to get her home and in bed where she literally fell asleep before I could finish saying goodnight. And the next morning she woke up with no recollection of the events that transpired the night before. In other words, it was like my junior year of college.

P left us sleeping soundly while he went to church Sunday morning because he knew one of us desperately needed the sleep. After we woke up we went with Bops to my aunt and uncle’s house to eat Sunday lunch. My aunt makes the closest version that exists of my Me-Ma’s spaghetti sauce (Me-Ma didn’t believe in writing down recipes and passing them down. She believed in taking recipes to the grave with her to ensure that we would all spend the rest of our lives talking about how no one makes spaghetti like she did.) and just the smell of it caused me to travel back in time just a little bit. Except we are all old now and my cousins are real men with facial hair and wives instead of little boys running around in diapers and knocking over the swingset in my Me-Ma and Pa-Pa’s backyard.

Caroline and I got back home around mid-afternoon and I had big plans to sleep off my spaghetti-induced hangover, but ended up running out of time because I had to get us all ready for our next event. (I know. Are you exhausted? Happen? Happen?) It’s Fiesta time in San Antonio right now (No, I did not have to make a fiesta shoebox float this year. Although I might consider doing one if you paid me because my OCD is in need of a place to land.) and some dear friends invited us to this big Fiesta party, complete with a plethora of bounce houses, clowns, balloon animals, face paint, fireworks, and, most importantly, margaritas.

So I had to pull out my iron and ironing board like we were going to Cotillion. Truth be told, I’d just bought a few new shirts for P and I was hoping to sneak them into his closet and pretend like they’d already been washed and ironed because he refuses to wear new clothes before they’ve been washed and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. (Also, all of those shirts cost $15.00.) But he was on to my scheme and threw those shirts in the wash. And, sure, I could have refused to iron them but he couldn’t care less about walking around like one big giant wrinkle which meant the burden of spray starch and our family name fell solely on my shoulders.

He walked in around 5:00 and asked if I’d seen an updated weather forecast to see if the weathermen were still trying to make us think it might actually rain. I told him I’d been way too busy being Cinderella to watch the news and I don’t even think he caught the reference. Or the bitterness.

Eventually we made it to the party in plenty of time to run around from bounce house to bounce house and sweat through our nicely pressed garments. Oh my word, I hate to complain about the heat but it has been so hot. SO HOT. In spite of the heat, we had such a good time seeing so many friends and I was able to feel bad for the majority that still have toddlers while I was able to sit comfortably and tell Caroline, “RUN AND BE FREE, LITTLE ONE. I’LL BE RIGHT HERE IF YOU NEED ME.”

Then we made it back home, I collapsed on the couch and announced to P that I had nothing to write about on the blog tonight. Yet here I am 1072 words later. If you’ve made it this far you deserve a medal.

And probably an apology.