Author: Big Mama

  • Working today to create a better tomorrow

    I talked to Gulley this morning and she mentioned that she had already read Big Mama. For Gulley to read the blog before 9:00 a.m. is quite the accomplishment because her computer is in the office in her garage, which means to get on the computer she has to endure the cold and let her two year old roam around the garage. I appreciate the loyalty.

    Anyway, Gulley said, “I read Big Mama, it seems like you’re in a bit of a funk”, which is the way your best friend tells you that some of your posts of late may be a little lame. And let me be the first to say that I am well aware of that fact. Also, I know Gulley well enough to know that she will read this and call me to apologize. Gulley is always worried about hurting somebody’s feelings, so if she tells you that you look great and like you’ve lost 10 pounds, she’ll call you later in the day to clarify that you definitely didn’t need to lose weight, in fact you look great, you look like you’ve lost 15 pounds, which, in case she didn’t mention, you definitely did NOT need to lose in the first place.

    Gulley explained that she can tell I’m not myself because she knows me so well. So, if any of y’all have been wondering, let me state for the record that I am, in fact, in a bit of a funk. Gulley does indeed know me well.

    I spent this past weekend with a raging case of PMS. In fact, yesterday Boomama posted a great story (if you’re looking for writing quality, you should head over there…if mediocre is your thing, you’re always welcome here) about her Sunday morning with her three year old and her own case of PMS. Her story ended with a great spiritual lesson, mine does not.

    Due to my sad state of mind throughout the weekend, I was bound and determined that Caroline and I were going to church Sunday morning. P was out of town hunting, so it was just the two of us. I woke up with a headache, but decided to go ahead with my church plan, so I got up and got myself dressed while Caroline watched T.V.

    I took a deep breath and headed in to get her dressed. She had decided that every article of clothing in her closet offended her to no end and I finally just picked out a dress and started to pull it on over her head while she kicked and screamed. There is no sweeter picture than a crying mama wrestling a crying toddler to the ground as we try to get ready to go sing praises to Jesus. I wanted to throw the dress across the room and go back to bed, but by this point we had to go to church on principle alone. I wasn’t going to lose this fight.

    We drove to church with Caroline whining the WHOLE way about how unfair life is and how she doesn’t like Sunday School and she has NO FRIENDS and doesn’t want to HEAR ABOUT JESUS. I mumbled something about how much we both needed to hear about Jesus this morning, got her out of her carseat and headed into church.

    I wish I could tell y’all that it ended with us learning some great spiritual lesson and that we both left renewed and refreshed with the peace of the Holy Spirit upon us, but that would be a lie. We left with both of us in tears once again and I cried most of the way home in frustration.

    When we pulled into the driveway, P was thankfully home from the ranch so I handed Caroline over to him while I went inside to compose myself and see if maybe a nap would take away my desire to set fire to something.

    But really, it’s not just the PMS. I could throw everything into that category and use it as a catch all for all that is wrong with my current state of mind, but that wouldn’t be accurate. The truth is that I feel overwhelmed right now. Things at work are busy, as they always are at the beginning of the year. It’s hard to come off the fantasy that is a three week vacation and snap back into the reality of reports, quotas, painfully long meetings and strategy planning about new clients. This is a huge part of the reason that January is always one of my least favorite months of the year. When you combine all of that with an obstinate three year old and a case of PMS…well, it’s just bad waiting to happen.

    I hope in the next few weeks as I adjust to being back in the real world and maybe as the people around me decide to give me some good material, that the content of Big Mama will once again achieve new heights of averageness.

  • A girl should really try to keep an air of mystery

    Yesterday evening our phone rang and it was our neighbor from across the street. He was making vegetable soup and wanted to know if I had an onion he could borrow. I looked and was very impressed with myself when I realized I actually had not one, but two onions on hand. Look at me, I’m a real cook with onions in the kitchen and everything!

    He said he’d be right over to get the onion. Caroline wanted to give it to him so I let her answer the door and hand him the onion. He said hello, thanked us for the onion and then in an attempt to make a little conversation, asked Caroline if she liked onions.

    She answered, “Yes, but they give me the toots.”

    I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but she’s very delicate and shy.

  • Hey Zuko, you wanna head to Denny’s and grab a Grand Slam breakfast?

    Y’all know that I spent part of my evening last night watching Grease, You’re the One that I Want. I’m not sure that it lived up to my expectations, but in my vast reality show watching experience, these shows tend to get better as the contestants get narrowed down.

    For now, let me just say that there isn’t really a man alive who looks good in black jeans. It’s a hard look to pull off, even when you’re trying out for the role of Danny Zuko. But if you’re a male who is old enough to qualify for a Medicare Part D program and get the senior discount at Denny’s, then your days of wearing black jeans while singing Summer Lovin’ are over. That ship has sailed.

    As for the Sandys in the group, as of now my favorite is the cute brunette with the cute little name like Jilly or Keely or something like that. Maybe it’s because I’d just once like to see one of my kindred brunette sisters get recognized as Sandy. It would be redemption for those years when Libba Fletcher told me I couldn’t possibly be Sandy because I had brown hair.

    But I’m totally over it.

    Of course if I had known that there was no age limit and if I could actually sing and/or dance, I would have flown out to L.A. to tryout. One huge factor that might have worked in my favor is that P actually ate dinner with Billy Bush about two years ago and while they didn’t become lifelong friends, Billy Bush did tell him at the end of dinner that he was a cool, (insert f word + ing) guy.

    I’m just saying as the wife of that guy, it could have been my ticket to fame…or at least a chance to embarrass myself on national television.

  • Photographic evidence of all the non-excitement

    Let me preface this by letting y’all know that I have nothing of interest to say. Nothing at all. Well, except that Caroline told me today that I am no fun. Gulley and I have always said that being accused of being no fun is the thing that gets us the most, because while we have been accused of being many things, not being fun had never been one of them until we had children.

    I guess we better get used to it. If Caroline thinks I’m no fun when she’s three, just imagine what a buzzkill I’ll be once she hits puberty.

    Anyway, I uploaded some pictures from my camera today and just thought I’d share what I found.

    What on earth is that? Well, I wondered the same thing until I realized that this is a picture of bullets that have been used to kill animals. P has actually taken the time to not only measure them, but to get photographic evidence of the measuring process. Once again, I’ll tell y’all sorry, but he is taken.

    This is a picture of an angel that I bought at 50% at an after Christmas sale. I had my eye on her before Christmas and at 50% I couldn’t pass her up. It was truly meant to be because the store was only taking cash and checks during the sale. Now, I never carry cash because I can’t account for it’s whereabouts. Someone must steal it out of my wallet, because there is no way that I can possibly spend money that quickly. Anyway, I had one check left in my checkbook and I happily used it to pay for this angel.

    These are roses that came from our yard. I can take no credit for them because I have a strict no yardwork policy. P takes good care of our antique rose bushes and as a bonus, brings in fresh cut flowers for the house. It more than makes up for the pictures of bullets that have been in dead animals.

    This picture didn’t actually come from my camera. My brother-in-law took it at a birthday party for my nephew. I just think it’s cute and it perfectly sums up her love for all things icing related.

    And last but not least, Caroline has started calling me Pizza Guy today. So, between that and the advice that Boomama gave me this week after I wrote this post, I just wanted to give y’all the heads up that I may change the name of this blog to:

    Pizza Guy

    Serving as a precautionary orthodontia horror tale for preteen girls

  • As Carol Burnett used to say, "Reading is Fundamental"

    For as long as I can remember, I have loved to read. I will honestly read just about anything I can get my hands on. If y’all don’t believe me, let me just say that I have even been known to read articles in Bowhunter’s Magazine and learn all about how Dale done shot his first 8 point buck using some kind of fancy new broadhead.

    Let me repeat. I will read anything.

    Now, before I mistakenly earn a reputation as someone who yearns for knowledge, let me set the record straight that, for me, reading is relaxing. It’s a way of slowing down one part of my brain and letting another part work. And lest y’all think my brain is oh so complex, I just mean that when I’m reading something, I’m focused on whatever it is and not the millions of other things that might be going on around me.

    When I was young, I read all of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books over and over again. I adored Ramona Quimby, Ralph the Motorcycle Mouse, Little House on the Prairie and Soup. Then, as my reading tastes changed I adored anything by Judy Blume. I bet I read Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, Otherwise Known as Shelia the Great, and Are You There God, It’s me Margaret?, no less than 50 times.

    One of my favorite things to do was go to Waldenbooks in the mall and pick out new books to read. I remember I always begged to get at least two or three at a time and one time I even cleaned off the shelves in my closet to make my own library.

    I realize that between that admission and the fact that I just confessed yesterday that I dressed up like Sandy from Grease, that y’all might be picturing a trampy looking elementary school age librarian wannabe. And you might be right.

    I’ve read everything from the latest chick lit to the classics, and for the most part, I really prefer to read fiction. The last time I read something non-fiction it was What to Expect When You’re Expecting and it scarred me for life. It was the reading equivalent of wanting to put my fingers in my ears and say “LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING”.

    Anyway, my point is that I adore reading.

    I will never forget that the day after P and I got married, we boarded a three hour flight headed to Miami and then the Bahamas. We were sitting in first class (because we played the honeymoon card) and as the plane took off, I pulled out the first of three books I had packed for the trip. I sat back, sipped my wine, ate my heated mixed nuts (oh yes, they heat them when you’re in first class), and started to read. Next to me, P pulled out a hunting magazine, thumbed through it for about five minutes, put it up, looked at me and said “what next?”.

    It was at that moment that I realized I had married a non-reader. Don’t get me wrong, he can read if he can sit still long enough to read, it’s just not an activity he prefers. The only books I’ve ever really seen him read are by this Capstick guy who writes about hunting in Africa and uses sentences like a leopard leaving someone with “a bloody, red toupee”. And how can anyone resist that?

    For the most part, P sticks to reading hunting magazines and of course, his hardcover edition of the Cabela’s catalog.

    So, seeing that I already have one family member who doesn’t hold reading in the esteem he should, I have worked hard to instill a love of books and reading in Caroline. From the time she was born, I would read at least one book to her every night and now that she’s older, she loves to go to the library and pick new books to read. Some of my favorite times are when she’s sitting in my lap as we read a book together before bedtime (and not just because she’s going to bed).

    Last night, I had to attend a dinner for the “bank” and so I got her fed, bathed and in jammies, but P had to put her to bed. I got home and he said everything had gone really well.

    Tonight, we’re sitting in the living room after bathtime and she looks at me and asks, “Mama, do you have to go to work tonight?” and I told her, “Nope, Mama’s staying home.”

    She looked at me in all seriousness and said, “I’m so glad because Daddy doesn’t read very good.”

    She’s obviously never heard him read the Cabela’s catalog.

  • Tell me about it, stud

    There is a group of women that fall somewhere in the 30-40 year age range, who at one time in their childhood, were completely in love with the movie Grease. It’s okay to admit it.

    Be proud, ladies. Be proud.

    I know that for me, I dreamed of the day that I could be as cool as the Pink Ladies and hang out with the T-Birds. My friends and I spent whole afternoons re-enacting scenes from the movie and actually dressing up like Sandy. I’ll always remember a girl named Libba Fletcher, who lived down the street, trying to convince us that she looked more like Olivia Newton-John than the rest of us.

    It never failed to start a huge debate because of course all of us wanted to look like Olivia and in reality, since we were about 6 or 7 years old, I don’t think any of us qualified, even though we had teased our hair, cut up our black Danskin leotards and paired them with our mama’s Candies to recreate the final scenes of the movie.

    We would beg our mamas to take us to the theater to see it “just one more time” and we had it so completely memorized that we knew the first notes of Beauty School Dropout, which was a scene we didn’t care for, and we could make a run for more candy or popcorn because NO WAY were we missing Greased Lightning (which is a totally dirty song, but I didn’t figure that out until years later).

    I had the Grease album on LP and 8 track and wore both of them out from listening all the time. I would lipsync in front of my mirror and dream of the day that I could be like Sandy. In fact, I think it was the summer before 4th grade when I had the brilliant idea that maybe I should wear dresses like Sandy to school everyday and on the last day of school, shock everyone by wearing my Jordache Jeans with my black t-shirt with the sparkly iron-on rainbow and my red satin jacket from Weiners, which looked just like the ones the Pink Ladies wore except it was you know…red and from Weiners.

    So, in light of all these embarrassing revelations, imagine my excitement when I heard about the new reality show that starts January 7th called “You’re the One that I Want”. It is a reality show wherein contestants vie for the chance to play Sandy and Danny Zuko in the Broadway production of Grease.

    It’s like a dream come true that combines my love of reality television with one of the greatest movies of all time.

    I will be glued to the television come January 7th. In fact, I’ve got chills, they’re multiplying and I’m losing control.