Author: Big Mama

The rainbow connection

The mighty Rainbows had their second game of the season on Saturday, but since I missed the first game it was my first official coaching experience. And I’m playing fast and loose with the words “official” and “coaching”.

The game was at 9:15 a.m. so I told P to wake me up around 8:00. Caroline had spent the night at Mimi and Bops’ house and I figured an 8:00 wake up call would give me all the time I’d need to map out our game plan and plot our team strategy or at least enough time to eat a bowl of yogurt with granola and berries because the yogurt and I have reunited and it feels so good.

While I ate my yogurt and checked email, I asked P, “Is there someplace to sit or do I need to bring a chair or a blanket?”

He looked at me for a minute and said, “There are bleachers, but it doesn’t matter because you won’t be sitting. You’re a coach, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I was just asking for Mimi and Bops.”

Also, I totally forgot that I was a coach. And that coaching requires you to stand on the sidelines and, um, coach people.

In my defense, we didn’t have practice last week because of all the rain so it’s totally understandable that it slipped my mind that I’d volunteered for P and I to co-coach the team. I feel like Michael Scott, “I was promoted to co-coach. We will be co-coaches together.”

I went into the bedroom to get dressed and lamented to P that I didn’t have any Nike shorts trimmed in royal blue with a matching royal blue t-shirt because I wanted to look coach-like and wear our team colors in the hopes that the right outfit would totally take away from the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. It’s a strategy that has worked well for me throughout much of my life. Especially from 1994-1996.

Without that black double-breasted suit jacket from Harold’s paired with a snappy houndstooth skirt and sensible pumps, I wouldn’t have convinced nearly as many people that a 22-year-old recent college graduate (with a degree in Speech Communications and a D in Personal Finance) knew exactly which mutual funds were the best and they should ABSOLUTELY let me help them invest their retirement money.

P said I was more than welcome to dress in team colors, but that I should know I’d be the only coach out there who did so. He might have also alluded that he might decide to ignore me if I did, but I may have blown that out of proportion. Not that I ever blow things out of proportion.

We arrived at the fields about thirty minutes early which allowed us plenty of time to get completely overheated before the game ever began. Apparently the sun didn’t get the memo that it’s the end of September and time to turn it down a notch. We get it, you’re the sun and you’re very bright and hot.

Caroline showed up with Mimi and Bops. She had her shirt tucked into her shorts (I’m still on the fence about the shirt tucked in versus worn out) and had her royal blue socks pulled up past her knees to somewhere around mid-thigh. I felt like I was about to have a heat stroke just looking at her with those wool socks covering her entire leg. But she insisted that’s how she wanted to wear them and insinuated that what I don’t know about being a cool soccer player is enough to fill a book. Which, granted, is true.

The other team showed up and I began to get a little concerned because they looked bigger than our girls. Then I met their coach and she was wearing track pants with a stripe down the side. I don’t know if anything is more legitimate than a coach wearing track pants. Not to mention that her team seemed to have several assistant coaches also wearing track pants and they all seemed to know a lot of soccer-type chants. All we had in our arsenal was “GO RAINBOWS!” and no track pants.

Also, I don’t think she had a child on the team. Which means she coaches soccer for fun or because she enjoys destroying six-year-olds. In her free time.

We had an umpire with all the enthusiasm of a corpse who didn’t really seem to understand that these were six- year-old girls and not professional soccer players who knew what he meant when he grunted “Corner kick” at them when the ball went out of bounds. And it started to get on my nerves just a little bit when the other team scored their tenth goal on us and their coach still insisted on jumping up and down and screaming every time it happened. I wanted to politely remind her that they are six and we don’t even play with goalies, but I was waiting to see if she was going to rip off her t-shirt and show us her sports bra at the end of the game.

Our girls gave it their best effort even though they all knew enough to know we were getting beat. BADLY. All these people can say what they want about everyone being a winner, but kids know when they’re losing. There’s no sense in lying to them about it. At halftime, P just told them to give it their best shot, play as hard as they could and leave their guts on the field. I passed out grapes and Gatorade and refrained from making any speeches about guts. But that’s why we’re a good match.

They played a lot better the second half and, in a stunning turn of events, Caroline even (accidentally) took a ball to the head. I was totally prepared for the meltdown I knew was about to happen but she just kept on running down the field like a mighty Rainbow should.

All in all, I have to say I’m a fan of soccer. I love that the girls love it. I love that it caused Caroline to burn energy to the point that she laid on our couch for two hours after she got home. I love that one of the moms brought delicious snacks for the whole team. Most of all, I loved seeing Caroline run down the field and score a goal.

This coming Saturday I’ll be on my own. P has a prior commitment so I’ll be coaching solo.

And you better believe I’ll be wearing my track pants.
Habla kazoo?

Caroline and I were in the car yesterday and I could hear her in the back seat saying, “Arriba! Arriba!” while intermittently playing the kazoo that she acquired from the prize box at Sunday School. Clearly the Sunday School teachers are on a mission from God to improve my patience because a kazoo? Seriously? Why not just take my last nerve out by hand and rip it to shreds?

But the important thing is that Caroline loves the kazoo and feels she has found her musical calling. I have to admit she seems to possess some natural kazoo talent given the fact that she was able to perform a mildly off-key version of The Star Spangled Banner (or The Dawnzer Song as she refers to it) with just fifteen minutes of practice.

Fifteen minutes that seemed like forty-five.

Anyway, she kept saying, “Arriba! Arriba!” and then asked, “Mama? What is the word ‘Arriba’? I just made it up!”

“Well, baby, it’s actually a Spanish word.”

“Wow! I’m even smarter than I thought! I just made up a Spanish word!”

Sure you did.

And, by the way, that kazoo music is just lovely.
Edition 67: Fashion Friday

I went to Target yesterday because we needed a new non-stick skillet, a birthday present for a party on Saturday and an extra pair of soccer socks for Caroline. In addition to these must-have items, I also ended up with a pair of sparkly silver shoes in a girls’ size 13 and some yoga pants in a womens’ size none of your business. It took all the self-restraint I could muster to not purchase these really pretty bubble glass goblets, but then I remembered that we eat off paper plates almost every night of the week and don’t really need any more elegant glassware that we don’t use.

Then I made my way over to the clothing section and saw these:

Somewhere Grimace is walking around without pants.

These are sweatpants with elastic at the ankles. For sale. In a store.

I was ready, in the spirit of George Costanza, to declare it the winter of Melanie where I would do nothing but eat cheese and grow a mustache, except without the growing a mustache part because I have standards. Not very high standards as evidenced by the faded black yoga pants that I wore to drop Caroline off at school yesterday, but standards nonetheless.

I also saw some lace leggings and a pair of mustard yellow ballet flats. Then the cashier asked for my I.D. when I tried to purchase a bottle of wine (every serious wine connoisseur knows Target has the best selection when you’re willing to spend $5.00 and possibly even $6.00) and I got in the car to head home and A-HA was on the radio singing “Take On Me” and I seriously wondered if I was being punked and somehow ended up back in 1988. But without the perm and the acid-washed denim jacket. And possibly the fake I.D.

Not that I was ever party to any sort of shenanigans involving fake identification in 1988. I just heard about it from some friends.

Anyway, I’ve never understood when women talk about how they can’t repeat a trend they wore when they were in middle school, but this fall I’ve realized it’s because I’ve never really lived it. All I know is that a 38-year-old woman has no business wearing neon plaid and lace leggings. NO BUSINESS. I’ve officially crossed over to the other side.

(I originally accidentally typed “crossed over to the other size” which is also true but more painful to admit)

Now for questions:

1. Erica asks: “Can you recommend some boots that look like Fryes but cost way way less? “

There was many a year that I searched for a pair of Frye boots that cost way less and I was totally and completely unsuccessful in my quest.

However, this year is the year of the boot. There are fabulous boots everywhere, but I’ve discovered that you need to look online and not just in stores. Most stores are woefully lacking a decent boot selection.

Here are a few great pairs of boots that look similar to various styles of Frye boots, but without the price tag.

2. Kelli asks: ” I loved the Gap essentials jeans and now they are discontinued. Do you (or any of your readers) have any ideas of a similar fit jean?”

All I know about jeans is you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince.

In other words, the best way to find a pair of jeans is to devote an afternoon to your quest for denim perfection and bring a friend who’s not afraid to be honest.

I’ve heard good things about Gap’s Long and Lean jeans and that you don’t have to be long nor lean to look good in them. It might be a good place to start.

Do y’all have any suggestions?

3. Priscilla asks: “I will be attending two weddings in early October. I would like to try something strapless or maybe one-shouldered number. What would be fall appropriate?”

The one-shouldered look is a big trend right now, even though I am struggling because all of a sudden I feel like shoulder is a funny word. Shoulder. Think about it for a minute.

Strapless or one-shouldered (I think it may be the source of a new word phobia for me, kind of like “ointment”) dresses are absolutely appropriate for fall as long as they are in a color palette that’s not too summery and you remember to carry a light wrap in case there’s a chill in the air.

Nena would refer to this as a “stole”. She was just sick when Gulley wore a strapless dress on an 80 degree October night last year without a stole.

Here are a few beautiful dresses that would work depending on how formal or casual your events happen to be.

I also love something like this even though it is neither one-shouldered nor strapless.

That’s all the questions for today, but I do have a few other fashion-related things I want to share. I tried on this black cowl-neck sweater dress at Old Navy the other day and was surprised that it was actually made fairly well. It would look great with tights and boots. I also thought these drawstring waist dresses were cute and would be the perfect piece to wear with leggings and a denim jacket. And Gap has their boyfriend sweaters on sale which are the perfect casual piece to pair with jeans and a scarf.

One final thing. (I know, what else could I possibly have to say?) I almost never do stuff like this, but one of my friends is a jewelry designer. She entered one of her designs as part of a contest through Kendra Scott Designs and is now one of the top three finalists nationwide. If her design is chosen then it will be worn on the red carpet at the People’s Choice Awards in Los Angeles and become a permanent part of the Kendra Scott collection. You can click on this link to go see the three finalists. She designed the one with the turquoise, orange and black detail. If you agree with me on its total and absolute super-coolness, you can vote for her design.

Stay classy.

And y’all have a great Friday.
Cheaper by the dozen or ten pound case

I cannot tell you how relieved I am that at least 97% of you didn’t know that you were supposed to run bleach through your washing machine. My deep laundry insecurities made me feel like I was the only one and that everyone might laugh and point at me in the comments. For the sake of information and knowledge, I feel like I need to let y’all know that Hugo said to just dump the cup of bleach directly in the tub of the washer and not in the soap dispenser, otherwise you may end up with some residual bleach in the dispenser that could wreak havoc and destruction on your next load of laundry causing untold sorrow.

In a delightful turn of events it has been cold and rainy here for the last two days. Well, at least it’s been Texas cold which means that the thermometer has hovered around a chilly 68 degrees. I know some of you Northerners may call that summer, but it’s been enough to make me break out my flannel pajama bottoms and the ingredients to make a pot of chili. P is super excited because he waits all year for the moment he gets to see me walk around the house in my blue fuzzy robe with socks pulled up to my knees. I think it goes without saying that it’s my most attractive look.

Due to the rain, P was home most of the afternoon yesterday and when I walked in the door from picking Caroline up from school I caught him looking at something on the internet, a ten pound case of dark chocolate covered cherries. He tried to tell me that he wasn’t about to order them, but given his love of ordering things in bulk I’m not sure I believe him. He is a firm believer that if one is good, then sixty-five are better.

I believe that philosophy applies to certain things like shoes or tubes of lipstick in various shades, but not to chocolate-covered cherries. Personally, I don’t need fruit messing up my chocolate.

But it made me think about buying things in bulk and wonder if I’m missing out because I’m just not a fan of the bulk purchase. Obviously I am in the minority or Sam’s and Costco would cease to exist. The only things I buy in bulk are paper towels, toilet paper, and Gummie LifeSavers. In other words, the essentials.

So my question is what do you buy in bulk and why is it better to buy it that way? I may need to rethink my philosophy. I mean it was just two days ago that I didn’t know to put bleach in the washing machine. Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

But I know enough to know that a family of three doesn’t need ten pounds of chocolate-covered cherries.
The motherboard always gets a bad rap

Yesterday morning I woke up to the sound of rain. Actually, that’s not true. I woke up to the sound of Caroline calling “Mama! Mama! Mama!” and then I heard the rain. It was 6:00 a.m. and a full hour before we actually needed to be awake. So I did what all wise mothers do in this type of situation. I poured her a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, turned on Tom & Jerry, told her that Daddy was up if she needed anything, and then crawled back in bed for another hour.

She woke me up at 7:00 a.m. with all the gentleness and subtlety of a pack of wild dogs. I helped her get dressed which means I suggested various outfits while she repeatedly laughed and mocked all my suggestions. Fortunately this process was short-lived because we were in the midst of a clean clothing shortage due to our washing machine issues.

After I dropped her off at school I came home and put on something other than workout clothes because I had plans to meet my friend Steph to go shopping. The rain was pouring down so I called her to make sure she really wanted to go because I would have totally understood if she wanted to drop her kids off at school and spend the day watching Lifetime movies. I’m not saying that I know anyone like that; I just hear it’s what some people like to do on rainy days.

Steph said she was still up for the challenge if I was and we agreed that our shopping time was worth the risk of running all over town looking like two drowned rats. And it was. We had the best time shopping, found a couple of cute things ON SALE, and we even got to meet Gulley for lunch because Tuesdays are her half-days.

While we were at lunch I pulled my phone out and placed it on the table because I was waiting on a call that I didn’t want to miss, the call letting me know that the Sears repairman was on his way to my house. I kind of felt nervous and apprehensive like I used to feel before going out on a blind date because you know there’s a good chance that something ugly is about to happen.

Naturally he called right as I was on my way to pick Caroline up from school. I told him I’d be home in ten minutes and begged him not to leave me in my time of laundry trouble and sorrow. As I drove to get Caroline I prayed that our washing machine issues would turn out to be something a little less serious than a whacked-out motherboard.

By the time I got home, P was in the laundry room with Hugo the Sears repairman. I never dreamed that I would fall in love with a mustachioed man named Hugo in a striped short-sleeve dress shirt with “Sears” embroidered on it, but I did. I fell in love with Hugo when I walked through the back door and he informed P and me that the problem wasn’t with our motherboard. In fact, our motherboard has never looked better.

I don’t know if that’s true, but I like that way it sounds. Like maybe she got some Botox and appears refreshed.

The problem was a clogged drain. That’s what the F2! F2! F2! meant. However, the repairman who came out on Monday allegedly cleaned the drain and it didn’t fix the problem, so he jumped to conclusions and blamed the poor motherboard who was only trying to use her powers for good.

Repairman #1 (as he shall be forever known) didn’t have the tenacity of my dedicated Hugo. Hugo would not rest until our drain was clean. He used bleach and some kind of magical tablets because apparently our biggest issue was that the washer had never been cleaned. Am I the only one who didn’t know you’re supposed to run a cycle with just a cup of bleach once a month? We have been living like savages.

Hugo pulled out all manner of gunk from our drain and even some assorted pieces of metal which I take full responsibility for because I am forever leaving empty shotgun shells in the pockets of my hunting pants.

When he was finally satisfied that the washer was clean (I am not even kidding when I tell you that he wiped out the entire rubber gasket around the door even though it had nothing to do with our problem) Hugo stood up and announced that the washer appeared to be as good as new. There is a possibility we might need a new pump, but if we have anymore problems in the next 90 days all we have to do is call Hugo and he’ll get us one for 15% off. Hugo completes me.

He also let us know that our dryer is spectacular and will last for “forty or sixty years” if we just remember to clean out the lint. In fact, he said it would last long past our washer which makes total sense considering that we paid about $900 less for it and all you do is turn a knob.

And last night I did laundry with enthusiasm. I washed towels, sheets, colors and whites with a renewed appreciation for the convenience of newfangled technology that allows you to wash clothes in the privacy of your own home with little to no effort.

Now if only someone would fold it and put it all away.
Here’s where I decide to just get a tub and washboard

I keep trying to think of clever or, at the very least, coherent ways to begin this post but I am struggling because I am just so tired. TIRED. I went to bed last night at 9:00 p.m. which hasn’t happened since I had the flu two years ago and was certain I was about to die and wanted to be in bed watching old episodes of Little House on The Prairie when it happened. If it was my time to go then I wanted to go out the way I lived, totally lame.

The weekend in Orlando was unbelievably fun even though I had nary a glimpse of any sort of theme park. Deeper Still was phenomenal and I am not kidding when I say I have about sixty pages of notes that will take me weeks to process. Kay Arthur taught the entire book of Hebrews, Beth Moore talked about discernment, and Priscilla spoke on Ephesians 3:20 and how God can do above and beyond all we can ask or imagine. In fact when Paul wrote Ephesians, he basically used language that says God can go beyond our beyond. He can do beyond beyond. Believing that truth is the foundation of our faith.

So I crawled into my bed in a hotel in Orlando on Saturday night reaffirmed in my belief that God can do beyond beyond.

Then I tossed and turned and didn’t sleep much at all because I was worried I wouldn’t hear the alarm go off and I’d miss my flight. At 5:30 a.m. I finally gave up, got out of bed, checked out of the hotel and headed for the airport. It wasn’t my finest hour. I feel certain there were several children on my flight to Atlanta who were convinced that Cruella DeVille was following them home from the Magic Kingdom. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing my dalmation fur coat.

(Why is spellcheck telling me I spelled dalmation wrong? Doez it thank I can’t spell gud?)

(Edited to add that apparently I can’t spell gud becuz dalmation is spelled dalmatian.)

Also on an air travel side note: If you haven’t traveled enough to know you have to take your shoes off when you go through security, then you probably shouldn’t get in the Expert Traveler security line. I know you may feel like an expert and you may do a lot of things really well, but getting through a security line in a timely manner isn’t one of those things.

Anyway, I ended up sitting next to a very chatty girl on the way to Atlanta and she told me all about some type of herbal supplements she’s selling that could change my life. Apparently they are made from some kind of super jacked up Chinese herb and will lower my cholesterol and help me get off my diabetes medication. It didn’t really seem to matter to her that I don’t have high cholesterol and am not diabetic. And then right as the plane was about to land, she said, “Can I ask you a really weird question?”

I was so frightened because I just knew she was about to give me the hard sell on the Chinese herbs in the form of “How much do you think is too much to pay to change your life with Chinese medicine? $39.99?”. But instead she asked, “Does my hair look okay?” So now I’m paranoid that people think I’m odd because I ask that same question about ten times a day and have never once thought it was weird. I thought it’s what people do when there isn’t a mirror in close proximity.

We landed in Atlanta and I had ten minutes to make it to the other side of the airport. I checked the monitor to confirm my departure gate, saw that my plane was boarding and sprinted through the airport with my carry-on bag in tow and my unbelievably heavy purse on my shoulder, only to arrive and discover that the plane was actually running about thirty minutes late. I’m totally sending Delta Airlines the bill for my eventual knee replacement and shoulder surgery.

Once we were on the plane, the pilot announced the delay was due to some maintenance issues which why? Why do you need to announce that? “Welcome to this small metal tube. Fingers crossed that we got everything fixed. Would you like some peanuts? Perhaps some paper and a pen to make out your will?”

Obviously it all turned out alright or this increasingly boring blog post wouldn’t exist. I landed in San Antonio and P and Caroline picked me up from the airport. As soon as I got in the car, Caroline announced she’d played a practical joke on me and pulled all her clothes out of her closet and thrown them all over her room. I figured that was actually the joke and when I arrived home that her room would actually be neat and tidy.

But I was wrong.

She wasn’t kidding. There were clothes all over her room and I wanted to cry, but instead I tried to gently explain the difference between a funny practical joke and things that will cause Mama to have a permanent break with reality. Then I took some deep cleansing breaths and we cleaned up the room.

All I really wanted to do was unpack my suitcase and get in the shower. Preferably a shower used by Hazmat crews because I was convinced that I’d contracted some strain of tuberculosis while I held on to the handrails on the Atlanta airport shuttle and probably should have bought some of those life-changing Chinese herbs. Hindsight.

So I unpacked my suitcase, sorted some massive piles of laundry, started a load of wash and jumped into the shower. I felt totally revitalized or at least like death was no longer imminent until I heard this odd BEEP, BEEP, BEEP coming from the laundry room. The washing machine was having a major case of PMS and decided to rage. I couldn’t get it to work despite all my best mechanical efforts which basically involved unplugging it and plugging it back in repeatedly. I did what I always do in these situations and yelled for P.

He walked into the laundry room and unplugged it. Great minds.

When that didn’t work he performed a series of maneuvers where he pulled out various tubes and what not. It would act like it was going to work but would go back to flashing F2! F2! F2! And I felt pure hatred for an appliance, a three-year-old appliance that was not cheap. Kenmore is dead to me. DEAD.

And so I curled up in the fetal position and went to sleep at 9:00 p.m. just to make the day go away.

Yesterday morning, a repairman came out, tried a few things and announced that the motherboard on our washer appears to be fried.

I’d like to be more upset, but in all honesty I know exactly how she feels.

At one point yesterday I told God that none of this was really my idea of Him going beyond beyond. All the reality came in and stole my joy. I just felt tired and frustrated.

But then last night I sat at the dinner table while Caroline told us about her day and P said something that made us laugh out loud and I realized that the gift of those two in my life is an example of how God does beyond our beyond. They are more than I asked for or imagined.

The Kenmore washer, however, is not.