Author: Big Mama

Survival of the fittest and most unenthusiastic

Okay, I’ll admit it. We watched “24” at our house last night.

I know I said we were done with it, but how could we just walk away without knowing if the President would survive the attack by a militia who were not only skilled enough to attack the White House by killing one handyman with a screwdriver, but also managed to bring in a laptop and a complete arsenal while scuba-diving in the Potomac?

What can I say? I guess I like television programming that causes me to suspend my imagination beyond all human reason, which explains why I kept watching “Diff’rent Strokes” even after Dixie Carter married Mr. Drummond and that little red-headed boy with the bowl cut moved into the penthouse.

And also why I kept watching “E.R.” after Dr. Romano not only got his arm cut off by a helicopter, but was then later crushed to death by a helicopter that fell out of the sky. What are the odds?

Anyway, enough about television.

(Like I could ever get enough of the T.V.)

Yesterday we spent our first official day of Spring Break at the outdoor mall here in town. Here is Caroline in front of Neiman Marcus.

I feel like I need to document the week in pictures so that someday when all of Caroline’s friends are reminiscing about their fabulous Spring Breaks spent at Disney World or an exotic beach somewhere, she can pull these out and say, “My mom took me to the mall”.

And all her friends will be totally jealous because who cares about having breakfast with Cinderella compared to riding the escalator at Nordstrom and climbing under clothing carousels while your Mom looks for sale items at GapKids?

In all fairness, she was the one that wanted to go to the mall. I was glad she suggested it because our other option would have been a trip to the zoo and I’m just not a big fan of the zoo. Actually, that’s not true. I think the zoo would be great if not for all the animals.

So we spent Monday in various children’s clothing stores where she completely blew my mind by turning down pink shirts covered in sparkly butterflies and instead grabbed a darling brown dress with nary a unicorn or bedazzle on it and declared it, “A KEEPER!”

I’ve never been so proud of her taste, but I kept it to myself because any indication of enthusiasm from me might have been a death sentence for the cute dress.

The good news is that both the dress and the President on “24” both lived to see another day. There is nothing Jack Bauer or a little lack of excitement can accomplish.

Except for maybe scuba-diving into the White House while carrying a laptop.
I’d like to dedicate this post to Daylight Savings Time

Our Spring Break officially started at 2:00 p.m. Friday afternoon and we started it off much like I used to start the Spring Breaks of my past, except instead of heading to the beach with a pack of Zima and suntan oil (Note to 20-year-old self, you will regret both of those decisions later in life), we went to Pizza Hut to meet with Caroline’s t-ball team.

This is our first foray into the team sports arena or field or whatever, so we are excited. Everyone knows most colleges offer lucrative athletic scholarships for t-ball players and we feel pretty sure we have a prodigy on our hands. Never mind the fact that she’s most excited about her pink baseball glove and hopes the uniforms aren’t brown, I have no doubt she will be totally into the mechanics of the game once the season starts.

When we arrived at Pizza Hut, we met her coach and the other players and parents. Most of the kids already knew each other because they all go to the same school. Caroline was beyond excited that her “boyfriend” from her class is also on her t-ball team. I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by “boyfriend”, but judging from their interaction at Pizza Hut, I believe it means that you take turns hitting each other on the head and laughing a lot with pizza hanging out of your mouth. It made me so nostalgic for the days when P and I first started dating and did that exact same thing.

The coach informed us that our first practice would be the next day at 10:00 a.m. As parents we were all supportive and said, “Dude. It’s the first Saturday of Spring Break and it’s just t-ball. We’re not looking for anything other than a reason to hang out at the little league fields and eat snow cones on Saturday afternoons.” So he postponed practice until the following week and then probably went home to make some calls to see if he could coach a team of kids with parents who have goals and ambition.

One of Caroline’s best girl friends is also on the team and after the meeting she came home with us to spend the night. This was the first official sleepover for both girls and my friend Julie and I kept calling each other with updates until the girls fell asleep after hours of giggling and coloring Disney Princess pictures and we realized it was actually going to happen.

They wanted to sleep on air mattresses on the floor of my bedroom, which I bet won’t be the case when they’re thirteen.

Of course, with all the Caller ID technology these days, it takes the fun out of the primary sleepover activity of calling boys and hanging up on them. Plus, you can’t call the local radio station and dedicate REO Speedwagon songs because who listens to the radio anymore? And for that matter, who listens to REO Speedwagon besides people over thirty-five?

On Saturday I was exhausted from all the sleepover fun, but I had to make a trip to HEB because we were having some friends over for dinner and I figured they probably didn’t want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Caroline went with me and I bought her a new coloring book in exchange for the promise that she’d let me take a nap. And she was true to her promise other than the forty-seven times she woke me up to ask if I thought Cinderella’s dress should be purple or blue.

Our friends came over on Saturday night and we had a great time. It had been forever since we’d all been together so we thoroughly enjoyed catching up on each other’s lives. In fact, we threw caution to the wind and hung out until 9:30 p.m. even though we knew it was really 10:30 with the looming time change, but we felt like it was worth it because otherwise we wouldn’t have had time to discuss our denture cream and arthritis.

Then came Sunday morning and Daylight Savings time officially killed my weekend buzz. I don’t know why the government insists on taking the extra hour away from us every spring, but I am certain it’s because no one in Congress remembers what it’s like when you’re trying to recover from listening to two five-year-old girls laugh into all hours of the night and then demand blueberry pancakes at 6:45 a.m.

It’s enough to make me reach for a Zima.
My cowgirl
Edition 53: Fashion Friday

So, before I even get started with this week’s Fashion Friday, I need to say thank you for all your coffee table support. It’s nice to know that most of you have very similar coffee table issues. I have long suffered from coffee table insecurity and am comforted to know I’m not the only one who uses it as some sort of catch-all for candy and remote controls.

March 2 is Texas Independence Day and Caroline’s school had Rodeo Day yesterday to celebrate the occasion. I signed up to volunteer for the festivities because I had some vague notion that it might be like all the Texas Independence Day celebrations I went to in college. A case of Lone Star Light, some lawn chairs, Robert Earl Keen blaring over someone’s stereo and, if we were really feeling festive, a bucket of fried chicken.

Apparently, that’s not how Kindergartners roll. I ended up being the DJ for the dancing portion of the festivities, which basically involved constantly pressing rewind and play on a tape called “The Wagon Trail”. But because I like to shake things up, we also did the Chicken Dance. I feel that it embodies everything that those men fought and died for at the Alamo.

Anyway, yesterday morning I was pulling out Caroline’s Western apparel for her to wear to school and realized her Wrangler shirt was terribly wrinkled. I tried to ignore it, but I knew I needed to pull out the iron. So I dragged out the ironing board and began ironing the shirt into some semblance of respectability.

About that time, Caroline walked into the kitchen and saw me ironing in the laundry room. She cocked her head to the side as if she had stumbled upon a freak show and said, “What are you doing, Mama?”

“I’m ironing.”

“Oh. Hey! I saw somebody do that on T.V. one time.”

What can I say? I am a firm believer in dry-cleaning. Or wrinkled clothes.

Now for the questions.

1. Melissa asks: “I’m flying to LA this weekend to see a guy I went to high school with and recently reconnected with on Facebook. So I need ‘don’t I look fabulous and wouldn’t it make a great chick flick if we fell in love because of Facebook’ outfits for the trip. Seeing as I’m not 25 or a former DCC I’d like to avoid the scarf and tank top combo a la The Bachelor..any great looks for me?”

Melissa, I don’t even know if I have any great fashion advice to offer you, but I am so fascinated by the whole possibility of a Facebook romance that I’m a little bit giddy. Facebook is a wonder. How did we ever live before we could look up the boy that was mean to us in third grade and rest in the knowledge that he is now totally bald?

Hypothetically speaking.

I think the key is to go cute and casual. Maybe a cute printed trench or a cotton blazer with a pair of jeans for the plane ride.

Depending on your plans for the rest of the weekend, you could put together an outfit like this one (love the statement necklace) or maybe something like this if you’re feeling brave.

And you can never go wrong with a versatile dress that you could dress up or down.

Most importantly, I am going to need a full report on the weekend and whether or not your life will eventually be the subject of the feel-good movie of the year. I know you don’t know me, but I am incredibly nosy.

Hence, my love of Facebook.

2. Angie asks: “My brother got me a $50 gift card to Old Navy for my birthday. If you had $50 to spend there what would you buy for your spring wardrobe?

Too bad I can’t buy a brother because I could seriously use a $50.00 hookup to Old Navy.

But enough about me.

If I had a $50.00 gift certificate to Old Navy, the first thing I’d do is wait for about another month before you buy anything. The upside of these horrible economic times is that they are going to have to drastically reduce prices to move merchandise. Not to mention the fact that you should never pay $26.50 for an item of clothing you buy in a store that has shopping carts.

That being said, I love this skirt and it comes in various colors and patterns. I also really like this tunicswimsuit coverup. These short-sleeve henleys or ruffled front cardigans would go great with jeans, shorts or skirts all summer long.

And if I had any money left over, I’d buy two pairs of flip-flops because if you buy two, they’re only $2.50 a pair.

$2.50 for flip-flops?

Is this 1974?

That’s all the questions for today. I was hoping to answer more questions, but I’ve stayed up way too late every night this week catching up on all the DVRed television that isn’t going to watch itself and I am exhausted. Not to mention that our Spring Break officially starts tomorrow and I’m going to need all the energy I can muster to serve as Caroline’s cruise director for the next ten days with no Kindergarten.

So, in fashion terms, that means it’s time to put on my big girl pants.

I’m putting up Mr. Linky if you have any fashion tips you want to share or feel free to leave them in the comments.

Y’all have a great Friday!
Maybe I need a coffee table book about coffee tables

I realize that some of you are still hunkered down trying desperately to survive the bitterly cold winter armed with only your Snuggies and gas fireplaces, much like the Ingalls family in “The Long Winter”. However, here in South Texas, I do believe winter is officially over.

We did have some cold weather over the weekend and I tried to take full advantage by making Caroline wear this darling corduroy jumper to church on Sunday since I know it won’t fit her next year. She agreed to the jumper, but when I suggested she wear it with her fur boots she told me, “I’m just not feeling the boots.”

Okay, Rachel Zoe.

You mark my words, there will come a day this summer when she will have a fit to wear those dang fur boots with her swimsuit to the pool and I’ll have to launch into my time-honored lecture on seasonally appropriate clothing. You can bet Caroline Ingalls never had to deal with this kind of stuff. Her girls were just grateful to have some new calico for a dress.

Why am I rambling? I think the steady stream of reality t.v. this week has reduced my I.Q. by at least 45 points. Points I can’t spare, by the way.

Anyway, my point is that winter is over. In fact, this is how we spent the afternoon yesterday.

(Please ignore the paint spills on the steps. Some hack just recently painted our backhouse.)

Actually, before we started in on the popsicles we gave the dogs a bath because they were beginning to stink up the whole neighborhood. P took them to the ranch on Tuesday and Scout, in particular, has never met any type of excrement that he doesn’t want to roll in.

I couldn’t find the dog shampoo but, thanks to Pantene, their coats have never looked so lustrous and shiny.

After the dog baths, we enjoyed some popsicles and played some tee-ball until Caroline fell on our sidewalk and then launched into a twenty-minute rant about how we needed to have those sidewalks removed. She DOES NOT LIKE those sidewalks! Why did Daddy put those sidewalks in our yard? It’s all HIS FAULT.

Or maybe it’s her fault for not looking where she was running. But I didn’t point that out because, good grief, don’t anger it any further.

While I was out in the backyard, I finally remembered to take a picture of the completed backhouse. And by completed, I mean that everything is now painted that you actually see and the rest is hidden by the landscaping so what’s the point?

(Please ignore Scout licking himself. It’s who he is.)

(Also, I don’t know why that window is open. Totally ruins the picture.)

I am just so relieved that I finally finished the project, even if it did bring me to the edge of sanity and reason. It just goes to show that if you work really hard, go to college, and earn a degree, that someday you can grow up to paint your own garage. God bless America.

So now that I’m finished with the backhouse, I have another home improvement project on tap. This one doesn’t involve any sort of manual labor because, NEVER AGAIN. It’s more of a home decor issue and I could use some decorating input.

Like most of the free world, we own a coffee table. It’s the same coffee table we’ve owned for the last ten years and I have no complaints about the table itself. It’s perfectly lovely and functional.

At one time, prior to Caroline’s birth, the coffee table used to have some actual decor-type items on it. But then I had to put those items away because most child-rearing manuals will tell you it’s not a good idea to let an 18-month-old walk around carrying wrought iron candlesticks.

I replaced what was on the table with two stacks of various coffee table books because apparently I am very literal about them being called “coffee table” books. The problem is that P likes to prop his feet up on the coffee table and would push the books off EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Then we’d end up having the same discussion EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, which was basically “WHY DO YOU WANT TO MAKE MY LIFE SO HARD?”

Finally, I gave up and moved the books off the table because my blood pressure can only go so high.

Which brings us to how the table looks as of today.

Granted, if your decor is supposed to reflect your lifestyle, then I think we’re doing a pretty good job. Classy, elegant and filled with processed sugar and Disney Princess light-up wands.

Am I wrong to want more out of a coffee table? Is there any hope for me?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. The only criteria is that whatever I use as decor needs to be cheap, and, by cheap, I mean free.

Muchas gracias.
All-Natural is just another word for bad

Since Caroline is in school five days a week, she doesn’t go to the grocery store with me as much as she used to. This saddens her greatly because there is no activity that thrills her more than walking through HEB with me and seeing how many things she can ask for before my head explodes.

The truth is that I kind of miss the grocery store companionship, but mostly I miss being able to buy a box of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls and then tell P, “She just had to have them!”

There was no need to clarify that by “she”, I meant “me”.

Anyway, the other day I had to run in HEB after I picked her up from school to get a few things we needed for dinner, like avocados, a large bag of M&M’s and the latest US Weekly. While we were there, I told her she could pick out any box of any cereal she wanted.

ANY CEREAL.

This is what she chose.

Needless to say, I thought we were going to have to take her in for some genetic testing.

Especially considering that I wouldn’t have survived my freshman year of college without Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter Crunch Cereal.

Oh, the Cap’n. We had some good times.

It’s hard to imagine many good times involving natural marshmallow pieces, which is probably why you don’t hear many people say “YUM! These Mallow-Oats are just a big bowl of naturally-sweetened deliciousness!”

But I kept my mouth shut. If my child doesn’t want to embrace her heritage of artificially-flavored, high-fructose ingredients, then so be it. Spread your wings and fly, my little hippie.

The next morning, I poured her a bowl of the Mallow-Oats. She took one bite of a natural marshmallow and I could tell by the look on her face that she immediately regretted her decision.

“This is not good, Mama.”

“I know.”

“Can I have something else?”

“Yes, baby. Let Mama get you a Swiss Cake Roll.”

I’m totally kidding.

I’d never let her share my Swiss Cake Rolls.