Author: Big Mama

  • The Texas Halloween Costume Mother

    While I was gone this weekend, our neighborhood shopping center held a little Halloween trick-or-treat event. They do it every year and it has become our tradition to attend.

    And I don’t mean to brag…well, actually, yes I do….when I tell y’all that Caroline has won the costume contest two out of three years that we’ve attended. The year she didn’t win was a year they didn’t hold a contest, so it was no one’s fault other than the people who forgot to arrange a contest.

    Because, otherwise, she totally would have won.

    I hate to admit this but somewhere along the way I have become the Texas Cheerleading Mom of the Halloween contest.

    I’d like to say it’s because I want to win the coupons for two free scoops of ice cream and a medium size bag of popcorn, but the truth is, it’s about my pride.

    So this summer when Caroline told me she wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween, I immediately began designing the costume in my head. Because I have problems.

    And, clearly, not enough to think about.

    Then, two weeks after school began, she came home and told me she wanted to be Sleeping Beauty. Whaa? Sleeping Beauty? I silently heaped curses upon the Disney marketing machine that brainwashes little girls into wanting to be narcoleptic princesses and pixies with an attitude problem.

    Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to let my Halloween ambitions interfere with my daughter’s happiness. Although I strongly considered it.

    I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t occasionally throw this out there, “So, you’re sure you don’t want to be a pumpkin?” Only to be rejected and informed in a firm tone that she was going to be Sleeping Beauty.

    Early in October we headed to The Disney Store to purchase the Sleeping Beauty costume. We got the dress, the light-up shoes, the golden scepter, and the crown.

    A little part of my soul died inside.

    But at least I felt good knowing that I was helping the Disney empire keep their head above water. I’m sure they’re just barely making ends meet, what with that whole Magic Kingdom deal.

    We came home and put the costume in the closet so that it wouldn’t get trashed before Halloween. Then, this past weekend, I packed it with all of her stuff and dropped her off at Mimi and Bop’s house.

    I was sad I was going to miss the Halloween carnival, but knowing she was going to be Sleeping Beauty, I felt certain that the Best Costume award was going to go to some other child whose mother has serious issues and too much time on her hands.

    Mimi got her up Saturday morning and began dressing her for the carnival. As soon as they got the Sleeping Beauty dress on, it became apparent to Caroline that it was very itchy. She was clawing at the top of it trying to make the itching stop.

    The dress needed a quick fix or it wasn’t going to get worn at all (and you certainly can’t have your two-time costume contest champion showing up in no costume at all) so Mimi taped duct tape, otherwise known as Louisiana chrome, over the itchiest parts of the inside of the dress.

    Caroline looked at Mimi and Bops on the way out the door and said, “Oh, I made a mistake. I should have been a pumpkin.”

    Thank you.

    That’s all I’ve been trying to say.

    I will use this story over and over again in the future to remind her that her mama ALWAYS knows best. And I feel certain that she will sit at my feet and absorb my motherly wisdom with quiet dignity and respect.

    Or she may stomp out of the room while yelling “YOU ARE WEARING ME OUT!”

    Not that she’s ever done that. It’s a hypothetical.

    So once I returned from my weekend away, I heard the whole tale of the costume and the itchiness. It was also made clear that she did NOT want to EVER put that dress on her person EVER again.

    Thank you Walt Disney. How about spending a little less money on Euro Disney and a little more on finding costume material of a slightly higher quality than recycled cardboard?

    I leapt into action and went back to Plan A. The pumpkin costume.

    I’d like to say I didn’t spend Sunday night plotting how I was going to make a pumpkin costume in just three days, but that wouldn’t be true.

    Monday morning after I dropped her off at school, I ran to Joann’s Crafts and Fabric Store. I started to feel intimidated looking at all the dress patterns and fabrics, but I pressed on.

    I bought 8 yards of orange tulle, some green tulle, black felt, and some RIT dye in a shade called Tangerine. Oh, and a handy little invention called Liquid Stitch, which is essentially glue for the sewing impaired.

    P came home to find me mixing Tangerine dye in the kitchen sink so that I could dye Caroline’s pink leotard and tights from last year. I was wearing rubber gloves and stirring like a mad woman. I think he thinks I need therapy.

    He may be right.

    I cut more strips of tulle than I ever dreamed possible and tied knot after knot to make an orange tutu. I was like Martha Stewart after 15 shots of espresso.

    Finally, it was finished.

    It was too late for the costume contest, but not too late for the pure cuteness. And as she said when someone dropped candy in her bucket last night, “I TOTALLY SCORED!”

    We had a great Halloween night. We walked up and down our block for some trick-or-treating and then came home to hand out candy to “customers”. Everytime a kid walked up Caroline would say, “HERE COMES ANOTHER CUSTOMER!” and she’d grab mounds of candy to pass out, while AJ, Mimi, Bops, P and I all sat on the front porch, ate taco soup, and watched the festivities.

    She’s already planning her costume for next year. She told me before bed last night that she either wants to be a kitty-cat or some poop.

    I’m pretty sure Disney doesn’t carry either of those costumes, but don’t think I won’t buy some brown tulle and make the best of it.

  • Words don’t do this justice either

    So after we went to our dinner thing on Friday night, we met up with our friend Jamie. She lives in College Station and her boys had an 8 a.m. soccer game the next morning, but she met us anyway. And despite my warnings, she had a new hairstyle with bangs.

    However, she doesn’t have my unfortunate cowlick issues, so it totally works for her.

    We caught up with Jamie until the waitstaff at Ninfa’s began to sweep under our table to let us know they had better things to do than bring us corn tortillas.

    Whatever.

    We finally took the not-so-subtle hint and left the restaurant. Jamie headed home, but Gulley and I decided it was our duty to explore some Texas A&M landmarks such as The Dixie Chicken. Granted, we were a little overdressed, but we figured we’d also be the oldest people there so what difference would it make.

    And this won’t mean anything to any of y’all that aren’t Aggies, but Northgate is completely different. I mean it has paved parking and parking meters. And even a parking garage. It’s come a long way from a couple of mud lots behind The Chicken.

    We walked up to the entrance, optimistically hoping to have to show our ID’s, and the guy working the door looked at us and said, “Y’all are good, I don’t need to see ID”.

    Thank you. Thank you very much.

    A hint of uncertainty would have been nice.

    Once we walked in we saw that everything was EXACTLY the same. The smell, the smoke, the old guy passed out while sitting upright. It’s as if time had stood still.

    We walked through just to absorb the ambience that is exactly what you’d expect from a place called The Dixie Chicken. And, we ended up meeting the ESPN crew who were in town to cover the game. One member of the crew was a girl who had recently graduated from University of Kentucky.

    We discussed how they had stolen our basketball coach, Billy Gillispie, from us and also her ambitions to marry him and become the mother of his children. She asked us when we graduated from A&M and we countered by asking how old she thought we were.

    She took a long, deep breath and said, “Please don’t be offended, but I’m going to say 27”.

    Gulley and I were thrilled, until we realized that when you’re 22 you cannot even conceive of an age as high as 35 or 36. I mean, do people even live that long?

    And if they do, they certainly don’t do anything other than lug their 18 kids around in a minivan and watch “Matlock”.

    We decided it was probably time for us to head home and walked back to the car. We had parked in one of the new lots and put enough change in the parking meter for an hour. I was worried we were pushing the limits of our hour.

    Now, I need to give y’all a little history about me.

    While I was a student at A&M, parking was a mess. It was like survival of the fittest just to find a spot to park every day.

    And yes, I could have taken the shuttle bus, but if you honestly think I’d take public transportation then you haven’t been reading the blog for very long.

    Since I was always running late, I usually just had to park wherever I could find a space. Staff parking. Twenty minute parking. University President parking. Wherever.

    Let’s just say I might still owe Texas A&M several hundred dollars in parking tickets, unless there is some kind of statute of limitations. I had a complicated relationship with UPD, otherwise known as University Police Department. They were my arch nemesis.

    Well, other than the Whataburger taquitos that singlehandedly caused me to gain 20 extra pounds my sophomore year.

    The point is that due to my constant parking issues with UPD, I am very sensitive to parking tickets and expired meters.

    So, Gulley and I are walking back to the car when I see a policeman standing in the vicinity of my vehicle. I immediately lose my mind and start racing over there to let him know “HERE I AM! PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME A TICKET!”

    As Gulley and I round the corner, we get the full view of the policeman that I think is about to give me a ticket.

    I’m not sure if it was the mirrored sunglasses or the shorts that gave away the fact that he was, in fact, not UPD, but rather a fraternity boy dressed up for Halloween.

    But I’m pretty sure it was the shorts.

    They seemed to lack the professional, I’m a University Policeman vibe.

    Although the belt and the gun were a nice touch.

    Needless to say, Gulley and I collapsed into hysterical laughter. I mean doubled over, can’t breathe laughter. And as soon as we recovered we asked his girlfriend to take a picture of us with him.

    As she took the picture we told them that we were former students back for a reunion and the game. The girl squealed “OMIGOSH, y’all are SO CUTE. What are y’all? Like 27?”

    I said, “No, we’re 36.”

    And I’m not exaggerating when I say she recoiled in horror.

    I think she was afraid we’d escaped from the nursing home.

  • Words don’t do it justice

    We had so much fun this weekend. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.

    But, if I don’t start somewhere then I’ll just sit here like I’ve been sitting here for the last 2 hours, procrastinating, because I don’t even know how to tell y’all about the weekend.

    I think for lack of a better format, I’m going to tell y’all about the weekend in chronological order. Be prepared, it may be a two-parter.

    Gulley and I left town at 2 p.m. sharp. We had spent the last week hoping and praying that no one would get sick, and as soon as we checked one last time for fever or illness, we were outta here.

    I hate to confess this but I may have burned rubber pulling out of her driveway.

    We stopped in San Marcos because I hadn’t eaten lunch and was in need of a little nourishment. So, we pulled through DQ and ordered some fries and Diet Cokes. I handed the girl a fifty dollar bill and she gave me back $4.00 in change.

    I do love some fries but $46.00 seemed a little steep.

    I told her I had given her $50.00 and she mumbled incoherently as she counted out my real change. Then, as a bonus, she spilled a LARGE Diet Coke all over the side of my car.

    Good times.

    And not messy at all.

    She was fortunate that nothing was going to steal my joy.

    We drove on and finally arrived in Bryan. I can’t even explain how long it took for me to unload my clothes out of the car because I realize I have a problem. I don’t need it confirmed here on the internet. Let’s just say Gulley and I could have been stranded for SEVERAL days, possibly weeks, and never had to wear the same thing twice.

    I lack what some may call decision-making skills.

    We walked into Gulley’s mama’s house and, much to my delight, Nena was there. She wanted to come, watch us get ready and dole out her fashion advice. But since it wasn’t quite time to get ready, we sat and visited for a while.

    Nena told us all about this story she had seen on the news about some woman who survived out at sea for NINETEEN DAYS. It seems this woman remembered that most of your body heat escapes from your head so she had tied her bikini top around her head to try to maintain some body heat.

    Nena went on and on about this woman surviving NINETEEN DAYS with just her bikini top tied around her head, and finally Big said, “Wow. Nineteen days? That’s incredible. Are you sure?”

    And Nena said, “Well, maybe it was just nineteen hours.”

    Yes, that would seem more likely.

    She also told us a story about a friend of hers that has always been SO BEAUTIFUL. She said, “She was SO BEAUTIFUL that men turned their heads to watch her walk down the street …IN DALLAS.”

    It’s no small feat to turn the heads of big city men. That takes some doin’.

    We finally started getting ready. And oh what joy to get ready from beginning to end with no interruptions. I didn’t have to stop to wipe anyone’s bottom or open a cheese stick or stick a straw in a juice box. I just curled my hair and listened to the soothing sound of the sizzle that let me know it was going to be a good hair night.

    Gulley decided to wear a strapless dress and, once Nena realized this, it became imperative that she wear a “stole” with it. Nena even offered to go home and get her stole so that Gulley could borrow it. I think the very idea that Gulley was going to expose her bare shoulders at Briarcrest Country Club was enough to make Nena reach for her smelling salts.

    Gulley told her I had brought a stole for her to wear and she would be properly covered. Nena grabbed me on our way out the door and said, “Make SURE that stole gets worn” as if the very reputation of their family depended on it.

    Needless to say, the stole did not get worn.

    And I’m only sharing this information because Nena doesn’t have a computer. As Gulley would say, “No one wants to be Nena’s I.T. person.”

    Talk about a full-time job.

    The next morning Nena called Gulley’s mama to get the report on our evening and the first question she asked was, “Did anyone else have on a strapless dress?” I told her they did and none of them were wearing stoles.

    Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover her reaction. You would have thought I told her these girls took off their shoes and ate with their feet.

    Anyway, we had a great time Friday night. We saw friends we hadn’t seen in years and got caught up on what everyone has been doing for the last 15 years. I also saw several scrapbooks that contained photos of me with hair that was not a color found in nature and so large it didn’t fit in the picture.

    And, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but in one of them I was wearing WHITE hose with FUSCHIA flats and a FUSCHIA dress with a white bow across the top that was bigger than my head.

    Which is saying something.

    I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t pretty.

    And not even a stole would have helped. Unless maybe I wrapped it around my head.

    Like that girl did with her bikini top for 19 days at sea.

    I’ll be back tomorrow with more reports from the weekend. And pictures!

  • Quick weekend update

    A few thoughts from the weekend.

    1. Texas A&M is truly one of the greatest places on earth. It had been so long since I had attended a game at Kyle Field that I had forgotten how incredible it is. It is, seriously, the best place in the world to watch a college football game. And I’m only slightly biased.

    At halftime, in the middle of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie band performance, Former President George H.W. Bush and Secretary of Defense, Dr. Robert Gates, came out on the field and awarded an Aggie Marine, Class of ’03, a Medal of Honor for his service in Iraq.

    Honestly, it was the best part of the night and I don’t think there was a dry eye in the stadium. Incredible moment.

    2. On a less serious note, sitting a few rows ahead of us were some students from Kansas. They had on shirts that made us laugh out loud. Gulley and I had to get a picture with them.

    The only problem is that we love our 12th Man. The Aggies would have been much better off if he had eaten our coach.

  • I would gladly partake of your pecan pie

    A few of y’all asked about my pecan pie recipe (pronounce PIH-CAHN by the way, if you say pee-can, please don’t make this pie) and I’m gladly willing to share the pecan goodness with you. I’m not a huge fan of plain pecan pie, but throw a cup of chocolate chips into that bad boy and you’ve got yourself some good eatin’.

    And yes, I am in College Station having big fun, but through the marvel that is modern technology I am writing this on Friday for it to auto-post on Saturday. The internet is a wonder.

    Pecan Pie

    1 unbaked 9″ pie crust (I use Pillsbury’s frozen crust)
    1/2 cup butter
    1 cup sugar
    1/2 tsp. salt
    1 tsp. vanilla
    1 cup light Karo syrup
    3 eggs, beaten
    1 1/2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
    1 cup pecan halves

    In saucepan, brown butter until golden. Don’t let it burn. Set aside to cool.

    Add sugar, salt, vanilla, syrup and eggs. Mix well. Add lemon juice and pecans.

    Pour into unbaked pie shell and bake at 425 for 10 minutes. Then, reduce heat to 325 and bake for 55 minutes.

    And if you really want to know what good is, add one cup of chocolate chips to the mixture before baking. It will make you cry.

    It’s just that good.

  • Edition 6: Fashion Friday

    I haven’t even mentioned that Gulley and I are headed to College Station for a big college reunion type thing.

    But we are.

    We are leaving town around 2:00 today and will be sans the petites until early Sunday afternoon. Excited doesn’t really even begin to cover it. And yes, our kids are darling. We love our kids. But a break? A break is good.

    Even the Lord rested on the Sabbath. And He didn’t have to constantly heat up Dino nuggets.

    So, fashion has been foremost on my mind as I’ve begun packing my bag for a weekend away. There is nothing that stresses me out more than being away from my closet. It completely eliminates my compulsive need to be able to decide on a new outfit at the last moment.

    Plus, what of the weather changes that may occur? How do they know it will be 75 degrees and sunny on Saturday? How can I know how much the temperature will change between 6 p.m. kickoff at Kyle Field and 9:30 p.m. when the game finally ends? It’s like a roll of the fashion dice.

    I’m at the mercy of the meteorologists.

    And in other not-necessarily-fashion news, I got a haircut on Wednesday. After a long series of disappointments, I have returned head in hands to my former hairdresser. She knows my hair and I don’t know why I ever left her.

    I had a wandering eye that led me to bangs and I am repentant.

    She took me back and this was my second reunited-and-it-feels-so-good haircut since my return. The cut is great, but when she styled it she parted it on the opposite side from where it has been parted for the last 26 years or so. She said it was because changing the part gave me more volume.

    That may be true, but it has completely thrown my equilibrium off. I wish I were kidding when I say it has made my head noticeably lean to one side as if to compensate from the incredible weight of the hair. Not to mention the fact that my hair keeps falling in my left eye as opposed to my right eye. My vision is completely out of whack.

    And peripheral vision? Forget about it.

    So tomorrow I will style it myself, return my part to its proper location and once again be able to hold my head upright. Have I ever mentioned I don’t do well with change?

    On to the question portion of this post. This week I received a few questions that deal more with beauty issues than fashion. My first thought was that I don’t wear a lot of makeup so I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer beauty questions. But then I realized I can do the same thing I do with the fashion questions and just fake my way through it as if I know what I’m talking about.

    It’s a technique I learned from my days of selling pharmaceutical products where I arbitrarily threw around terms like “CYP3A9” and “Apo B Lipoprotein” and “Sugar Diabetes”.

    Here we go.

    1. Rachel asks: “As for lipstick, do you prefer matte or shiny? I hear that matte is making a comeback, but I’m still partial to a little bit of shine. Also, do you buy at the department store where you get to preview the color on your lips as well as hear a few kinds words from the ladies in black aprons or do you play guess and lose at the drug store? I like the bargain prices, but not my bin full of not quite right lipstick. What are your thoughts?”

    Matte may be making a comeback, but supposedly so are skinny jeans and you won’t see me wearing them. I am not a fan of the matte lip. I think even a hint of shine is much more flattering.

    Of course I may be biased because matte lipstick makes me think of my Aunt Fina who has worn bright red matte lipstick for the last 65 years. Or as she would say, “lipstickt”.

    That picture should encourage y’all to go with some shine. And also, serve as a lesson that a little bit of blush goes a long way.

    I have never been a department store makeup kind of girl. Mainly because I have the propensity to be a huge sucker for beauty products and if I dare to step in Sephora and let one of those lovely cosmeticians have their way with my face, I would feel compelled to buy every product they used so that I could replicate what they have just done. Once home I would realize they are professionals and I need more than the products to get the same results. And there I would be with hundreds of dollars worth of disillusionment sitting in my makeup bag.

    Not that I’ve ever done that. I’m just speaking hypothetically.

    I have always been able to find good products at the CVS and they will usually let you return a product if you get home and discover it’s the wrong color. Or y’all can do what I do and just buy the same colors all the time, but in different brands and formulations.

    My favorite lip products at this moment are Neutrogena Moisture Shine in Chic (pronounced Chick in certain circles), Covergirl Lipslicks in Daring, Almay Ideal Gloss in Wine Shimmer, E.L.F. Plumping Lip Glaze in Mocha Ice, and Burt’s Bees Lip Shimmer in Nutmeg.

    And actually there are dozens more, but that’s just what was in my purse. I’m not kidding.

    Y’all will notice that these are all a variation on a theme and that theme is wine/brown/mocha tones. Keep in mind that I have a medium skin tone, brown hair and brown eyes. These colors look best on me.

    Pink, in any form or fashion of lip color, hates me. In fact, it despises me.

    However, if you’re a lovely, fair-skinned blonde girl, pink may be your BFF. I hope y’all are very happy together.

    2. Cricket asks: “I am in my early thirties and am noticing more and more CHIN HAIR each day! What do I do? Pluck every day? Is there a better way?”

    Yes. Pluck. Pluck like the wind.

    Or you could go see about laser hair removal for chins. But make sure you’re into pain and agony because it is every bit as painful as watching a “Diff’rent Strokes” marathon.

    That’s all I’ve got for this week because I need to do things like pack my suitcase and watch multiple weather forecasts so that I can obsess about the high temperature for Saturday and whether or not I’ll need a light sweater or a coat for the game.

    Maybe I should just pack both.

    Or maybe I should be more concerned about whether or not the Aggies can beat the hell out of Kansas.

    Y’all have a great weekend!