Author: Big Mama

Before I get all wrapped up in recounting what was a truly non-eventful yesterday, I wanted to let y’all know that the outfit Caroline had on in that last picture is from Naartjie. Which, frankly, I’m a little obsessed with right now. Mainly because I know she’ll probably only agree to wear stuff like that for about another year before it’s all Justin Beiber t-shirts or some similar horror.

So yesterday morning was pretty cold. At least cold by Texas standards and all I wanted to do was drop Caroline off at school, drive to Starbucks, order a Peppermint Mocha in a festive red holiday cup, and then go back home and spend the rest of the morning reading about Prince William and Kate because there is really nothing I can get behind so much as a royal wedding. I am a sucker for some British royalty for reasons I don’t even understand myself.

But I didn’t get to do any of that. Well, later I spent more than several minutes reading all about Prince William and how he gave Kate the ring that Charles gave Diana. It looks very similar to those costume jewelry rings they sell at Steinmart but, you know, it’s real and is probably worth more than my house. Or my life. I’m also willing to bet she isn’t going to have to worry about her finger turning green.

The point is I had to run. As in exercise. Because, even though I haven’t mentioned it lately, I am still in the process of moving from the couch to a 5K. I took a three week hiatus back in October due to my bronchitis because it’s hard to exercise when your lungs are trying to abdicate from your body, but I’ve been back at it since the end of October and I think that puts me at week 5 even though I accidentally did day one of week six last Friday and ran for eight minutes without stopping before I realized my error. And so now I know that I can run at least eight minutes without stopping and OH THE PRESSURE to keep up that momentum.

Between you and me, I have yet to experience anything resembling a runners’ high. Although I have experienced several instances of runners’ side cramps that make me want to head back to my couch TOOT SUITE to recuperate.

Anyway, I put on my new fleece with my running shorts and decided I was going to need to kick it old school if I was going to find the proper motivation. (Yes. I just wrote “kick it old school”.) I added a little Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey and some Bobby B. And possibly Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

It totally worked because I ran the farthest I’ve ever run. Plus, I almost didn’t want to kill the lady inside my iPhone that condescendingly says, “Halfway There” during the middle of it all and that is huge progress. It just goes to prove that sometimes nothing will get you through like Steve Perry or Bobby B. or Marky Mark and his Funky Bunch.

After I got back home, I made a list and went to HEB. When P got back home on Sunday night, the first thing he asked me was when I planned to go to the grocery store and I said, “When I feel like it” because I am a giver by nature. He said he was going to start a list because we were out of several things. I waited until he’d left the room to look at his list and, I’m not even kidding, this is it:

Orange Milano Cookies
razors

I believe both those things fall into the category of WANT, not need. He owns a landscaping business which means he can totally grow a beard.

So I held out for two days and then went to the store to get razors and Orange Milano cookies and milk and toilet paper because NEED, not want. And I decided to go ahead and buy the stuff I’ll need to contribute to our family’s Thanksgiving dinner. I turned down the baking aisle to load up on semi-sweet chocolate and sugar, then I began to make my way through the rest of the store.

However, the floor was so gritty all of a sudden. And I was wearing my cowboy boots and the gritty sound and texture was more than I could bear. I was raging internally about HEB and their gritty, dirty floor and composing a letter to the manager in my head, when I looked down and realized that the sugar I’d put in my cart had a hole in it and I was the one trailing sugar all over creation. And then stepping in it and making an even bigger mess.

So, yeah. Never mind on that letter to the manager.

I spent the rest of the day meeting Gulley for lunch, picking up Caroline from school and trying to decide if I want to grow my bangs back out or get them cut again. We also worked on memorizing some animal poems because, apparently, memorization is a big thing in second grade.

Finally it was time to make dinner. I planned to make chili because it was slightly cold outside and I figured everyone (Everyone? All three of us!) could make a Frito pie or a chili dog or maybe combine the two together like the brilliant folks at Sonic have done.

(Yes. I took a picture of the menu at Sonic. Because I have been obsessed with the combo chili dog/Frito pie. Depending on the sophistication of your palate, it is either brilliant or disgusting. I happen to think it is the food group I’ve been looking for all my life. Clearly, I am sophisticated.)

But here’s a cooking tip you can take to the bank or wherever else you like to take things that are worth keeping. I’m not claiming to be any kind of master cook. I’m not Pioneer Woman throwing down with Bobby Flay, but I can tell you this one thing.

If you plan to make chili for dinner, it really helps if you remember to buy the ingredients to make the chili when you’re at the grocery store.

Thank you and good day.

There wasn’t really a whole lot going on around here this past weekend. But when you consider I started my Friday morning by attempting to brush our dog Scout’s teeth, there was really nowhere to go but up.

By the way, it is true what they say. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Or the importance of dental hygiene to prevent plaque buildup. He was having none of it. Which I kind of suspected. Especially after Gulley saw the Doggie Dental Care Kit on my kitchen counter Thursday afternoon and HOWLED until she cried when I told her I was going to brush Scout’s teeth.

P was down at the ranch all weekend because it’s hunting season and that’s what he does. And, by the way, the weekend apparently starts on Thursday from November through the end of January. So it was just Caroline and me until she got a better offer for Friday night and decided to go to a pizza party at a friend’s house.

I thought my Friday night was going to be a quiet affair with just me, The Making of The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders reality show, and the sound of my self-image plummeting to the ground as I watch them tell a girl who weighs 98 pounds soaking wet that she’s “a little thick”. But somehow I ended up being convinced Caroline needed to have a friend spend the night which altered my plans to be curled up with a bag of Double Chocolate Milanos by 8:00 p.m.

Instead I ended up going out to eat Mexican food with Mimi, Bops and Gulley because Gulley’s husband took the boys to a high school football game and she decided to pass. (As I reread this I feel like I should clarify that she needed to pass ON the game, not pass IN the game. It sounded a little like she might have taken to the field.) So we let Mimi and Bops take us out to dinner just like we were back in college instead of two women in our late thirties. Unfortunately, unlike college, we weren’t able to go back to their house, spend the night in their guest bedroom and sleep until noon the next day. Because we caved to the man and became responsible members of society at some point in the last twenty years.

I picked up Caroline and her friend from the pizza party and brought them home. They were tired and so I was able to pass off crawling in my bed and watching a few episodes of Dukes of Hazzard as entertainment. I’m sure her friend’s parents will be delighted that their daughter now has a working knowledge of Boss Hogg and his attempts to defraud the citizens of Hazzard County. At our house we believe that the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.

Someone ought to write a song about that.

On Saturday I realized we were out of trash bags and thus we took our lives into our own hands and went to Walmart. Normally I would never go to Walmart, especially on a Saturday, but we’d just eaten lunch at Chick-Fil-A and it was right there. And, truthfully, it wasn’t too bad. I even noticed that the Horizon Organic Milk at Walmart has a much later expiration date than the Horizon milk they’re selling at HEB.

And with that sentence, I just turned into my Me-Ma. Has this kind of minutiae become some important to my life that I not only notice it, but share it on the internet? I am sad for myself.

Then Saturday evening we headed over to Gulley’s to watch the A&M game. Which, GLORY, it was just a nightmarish first half that left me questioning the integrity and morals of every ref involved. But then the second half came and our defense readjusted and we all celebrated loudly at what is hopefully the dawn of a new beginning for Aggie football.

Gulley and I hoped against hope that ESPN Gameday would choose to go to College Station for our game against Nebraska this coming weekend because we’d already planned to be there with the kids and felt like some strategic sign-making and face-painting might get our children a shout out from Kirk Herbstreit. Or at the very least, Lee Corso. But, alas, Gameday announced that they will instead be broadcasting from Wrigley Field for the Northwestern vs. Illinois game. Because six people care about that.

(No offense if you went to Northwestern or Illinois. I’m sure they are lovely schools, but neither one is making headlines for football this season. Oh, but they’re playing at a BASEBALL FIELD! It’s so novel!)

(And I’m a little bitter. Because I’d already been practicing how to write “Gig’em” across Caroline’s cheek.)

Sunday morning, Caroline and I went to church and then we ate breakfast at Jim’s with Mimi and Bops. I ordered the Migas because they’re usually good. But they had too many onions.

Much like this post has too many details.

And so I’ll leave you with this if you are an Aggie fan. If not, feel free to skip down for a few more important notes of interest.

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In light of the fact that the Aggies beat Baylor this weekend (Did I mention that?) I feel like the least I can do is give a shout out to one of my favorite Baylor alumni, my friend Shaun Groves. Shaun is raising money so that he can make a new album.

Here’s the thing. Shaun travels all around the country, sings his songs, talks about Compassion and helps release children all over the world from poverty. If he has a new album, more people will want him to come sing, which means he’ll get to talk about Compassion, and, thus, MORE CHILDREN WILL BE RELEASED FROM POVERTY. Click on over to find out how you can help.

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There’s a great opportunity to get some great prizes from one of the NFL’s sponsors, Procter & Gamble. Check out their “Take it to the House” program and photo contest, where prizes include a $10,000 community donation to support NFL PLAY 60 and an at-home visit from a local NFL legend! One lucky Grand Prize Winner will even win a trip to the 2011 Pro Bowl in Hawaii. Click over to my giveaway page for details.

Last night we were watching an episode of Dukes of Hazzard because that show has become Caroline’s new obsession ever since P and I introduced her to it about two weeks ago. We believe it’s important to instill culture in your children at an early age. And, truly, it has brought up some interesting talking points around our household such as why Bo and Luke always take their shirts off before they fight, why Bo wears his jeans so tight, and why Daisy, Bo, and Luke all are grown-ups but still live with their Uncle Jesse.

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. Actually, I have my suspicions about the shirtless Duke boys and the tight jeans, but I don’t know why they all lived with Uncle Jesse. I just appreciate that Caroline is astute enough to wonder about things that never crossed my mind all those Friday nights that I wrapped myself up in my Raggedy Ann sleeping bag and watched the Dukes on a huge console T.V.

And here’s my question. Do y’all think Daisy always had on pantyhose with her shorts? After careful observation, I’m about 94% certain she did.

But that’s not really the point of any of this. The episode we watched last night involved a con-woman who duped Roscoe P. Coltrane into marrying her so that she and her co-conspirators could pull off a bank robbery or something. I’m not totally sure about that part because I was in the middle of turning a turkey into a hunter, which is another story entirely and I realize seems completely out of context here.

(Are you wondering if I’m so desperate for material that I’ve stooped to recaps of antiquated hillbilly T.V. shows? I promise this is going somewhere. Although I can’t guarantee this whole blog won’t plummet to that level at some point in the next year or so.)

Toward the end of the episode, Roscoe realizes he’s been duped by his bride and is heartbroken. And, I kid you not, I realized I had tears in my eyes. I genuinely felt sad for a fake sheriff in a fictional backwoods town.

There is only one good reason for this. Hormonal fluctuations.

I blame two things: my insurance company and whoever makes the generic version of Yaz birth control pills.

This whole thing started back in June when I went to pick up my prescription and the pharmacist informed me that there was now a generic version of Yaz and, HOORAY FOR ME, that’s what my insurance company pays for. Even though they technically don’t pay for anything until I meet a $500 deductible which never happens until it’s time for a new year to begin again.

So I took home my generic Yaz and felt like I could totally tell the difference after about three days. But I tried to mind over matter the whole thing because my pharm rep past has made me suspect that all generic drugs have the potential to be of the devil. It’s true. You can look it up on the internet if you don’t believe me.

Because all information found on the internet is 100% accurate.

Fast forward to about three weeks ago when I had my annual appointment with my OB/Gyn.

(I’m certain this is the point in this post when you wish I’d just stuck to a recap of The Dukes of Hazzard.)

He asked me how I was feeling and I rattled off a long list of complaints including feeling hot at random times, insomnia, and the occasional desire to rev the engine of my station wagon and peel out of the driveway in a fit of anger. But then I said, “You’re probably just going to tell me it’s because I’m about to be 40.”

And he replied, “No, I think it may be your pills. I’ve had several complaints about the generic version.”

At which point I did a few fist pumps in my mind because VINDICATION.

So he switched me to a new pill. I just started it a few days ago. And now you really know more than I ever intended for the internet to know.

But I forgot about the side effects, like hormone headaches and nausea and the desire to throw the remote control through the T.V. because you can’t stand to listen to one more hunter whisper loudly throughout an entire thirty-minute hunting program, that come with starting a new pill.

I just hope they don’t last too much longer because at some point we’re going to get to the episode where Boss Hogg thinks he’s dying and gives Uncle Jesse the deed to the Duke farm.

And that may be too much emotion for me to handle right now.

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On a serious note, I want to say thank you to all the veterans for their brave service. I pray that none of us take our freedom for granted. It has come at a price.

“This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.” – Elmer Davis