Author: Big Mama

  • From now on, I’m buying knockoffs

    I’m not sure at what point in my life I became aware of designer labels, but since I am a child of the 70’s, there were some crucial, foundation building years of my life that came about during the advent of Gloria Vanderbilt putting her family name on every bottom in America. I’m just saying, it could’ve influenced me.

    I remember the day that I graduated from wearing Garanimals to Luv-its. Oh you know y’all remember Luv-its. My favorite pair had an ice cream cone stitched on the back pocket and let’s just say that I thought I was IT at Magic Skate wearing my sweet, sweet Luv-its and my white skates with green pom-poms. Look out world because here I come and I’ve got dessert embroidered on my booty.

    In time the Luv-its became just a little passe. It was all about Gloria Vanderbilt and that swan. I had to have a pair. My Mema came through and bought me a pair of aqua (I would say turquoise, but we all know it was the 70’s and aqua is more appropriate) Gloria Vanderbilt jeans with a matching aqua Gloria Vanderbilt top complete with elastic waist band. Oh yes ma’am, I was going to take 5th grade by storm.

    Then, tragedy struck. I can still picture the whole scene. I was sitting in our living room wearing my new Gloria Vanderbilt ensemble while changing the batteries on my 8-track player (could that sentence even apply to any other decade than the 70’s?) when I looked down and realized that I had gotten battery acid on my aqua jeans. They were ruined. To say that I was upset is an understatement. It was a display of prepubescent hormones that could serve as a warning label to anyone who will ever come in contact with a 10 year old girl.

    Fortunately for me, Jordache jeans came in style shortly thereafter and I moved on. There is no better school picture of me than my 5th grade picture complete with Jordache jeans, royal blue Izod shirt, and winged hair that was shellacked to my head by an inordinate amount of Flex hairspray.

    Throughout my teenage years, I pined for Polo shirts, complete outfits by Esprit, Guess overalls, Laura Ashlely dresses, and Dooney and Bourke purses to name just a few.

    Then, one Christmas while I was in college, this boy I was dating bought me a real Fendi purse. I don’t even want to think about what he paid for it. I adored this Fendi purse. I carried it everywhere and it lasted much longer than the relationship with the guy that bought it for me in the first place. Even after we broke up, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the Fendi. It just looked too good with everything I owned and it would be wrong to lose a nice handbag because of a bad boyfriend.

    I’m not saying I am proud, I am just being honest.

    Anyway, I carried that Fendi for about a year and a half before the leather on the drawstring began to completely erode away. I couldn’t believe that such a nice purse was falling apart after a measly year and a half. So, one day I was in Houston, shopping at The Galleria and noticed the Fendi store.

    I marched in there with my purse just knowing that it gave me instant credibility. I explained that my purse was about a year and a half old and the leather was falling apart. The saleswoman took my purse, looked it (and me) up and down and then in a snooty, faux french accent said “Well, this is obviously just a department store Fendi.” It was like I had handed her a dead possum in Fendi clothing. She then said “Our Fendis are not meant for everyday use, so there is nothing that can be done.”

    Oh right, because why would you pay an exorbitant amount for a purse that you were actually going to use?

    I hadn’t thought of this story in years, but this week my friend Hite sent me an ad for a Fendi purse with a note asking about the department store Fendi. I can’t believe he remembered, but he’s probably spent years being embarrassed that he associated himself with someone who was using a designer handbag from a department store for everyday use. How tacky.

  • Over and above

    Caroline has learned this little song at school that they sing before they eat lunch. It’s sung to the tune of “Are You Sleeping?”

    God, Our Father
    God, Our Father
    We thank you
    We thank you
    For our many blessings
    For our many blessings
    Amen
    Amen

    Everytime I hear her sing it in her little 3 year old voice, I think I couldn’t agree more. We are abundantly blessed.

  • Sydney Bristow would be so disappointed

    Yesterday morning I was completely busted. Busted in a way that I haven’t been busted since I was 17 and snuck out of my best friend’s house to go to a party, which should really be a post for another time.

    Anyway, Caroline had a friend coming over to play and our playroom was a complete disaster. I realize that it is in fact a playroom, which means it will never be a clean room, but even by playroom standards it was disreputable.

    So, I began my stealth approach of casually throwing things into a bag to be thrown away. Broken pieces and parts, dried out playdough, Happy Meal toys, and a few Barbie shoes were quickly disposed of and some semblance of order was returned to the room. I was pleased.

    But sadly, I made a flaw worthy of a mere rookie, not a seasoned OCD veteran.

    I threw everything away in a Disney Princess bag.

    I then placed the Disney Princess bag in my kitchen trash and pulled the whole thing out for P to take to the curb. However, he was doing something really important like buying ammo online and didn’t get the trash out before Old Eagle Eyes spotted the Disney Princess bag through the semi-transparent kitchen trash bag and she had a complete shall we say freak out.

    “MAMA, why is my princess bag in the trash? WHY? Get it Mama, get my princess bag. Daddy threw it away! He threw it away!”

    And so I let him take the blame.

    No, I didn’t, but I thought about it, especially because he was watching this whole exchange with a smug grin on his face.

    I said “Oh Mama must have made a mistake, let me get it for you” and I pulled it out of the trash while discreetly dumping out its contents.

    She took the treasured bag from me and with her hands on her hips looked at me and said, “Mama, you are always throwing my best stuff away”

    She isn’t the first person in this house to accuse me of this offense, but I’m sad that she’s on to me so early. I need to brush up on my stealth moves and remember the first rule of any good spy, always destroy the evidence immediately.

  • Sugar and lots of spice

    I mentioned the other day that I have reason to believe that I am raising a class clown. Here’s a picture that I took at the Halloween party at school that will confirm this fact.

    She’s just a delicate, delicate flower.

  • A tale of love, laughter and sadness

    P has been the director of a high school ministry for the last twelve years. We started dating around the time he started working with this ministry. Some of my favorite memories of our dating years and early marriage are of times we spent with all of the kids we have had come through our ministry. It’s been a huge blessing in our lives and we’ve had the opportunity to become close to so many kids and in turn, their families.

    There are some girls who I led Bible studies for that I have stayed close to over the years. We’ve kept in touch as they’ve gone off to college, made their way into the real world and for some of them, gotten married and had babies. It is a huge gift to get to see what they are doing with their lives.

    One of these girls is A.J. The first time I met A.J. was on a ski trip during her sophomore year in high school. She was everything I am not, a rough and tumble tomboy who dislocated her elbow on the second day and still wanted to keep snowboarding. We bonded as I took her to the infirmary, which was my primary job as chaperone on the ski trip since I prefer to look at the mountains and not so much ski down them. She had spent summers doing Outward Bound programs and using leaves for toilet paper and I just did not get the appeal. But we shared a love of eating at Luby’s cafeteria and started going to dinner together once a week to get ourselves a Luann platter.

    Over the course of that trip and the next 3 years of having her in my Bible study, I completely grew to adore A.J. and her family. They welcomed P and I into their home and lives with open arms. A.J. is the youngest of three girls and her family is just hysterical. They are the kind of family you sit with at the dinner table and just want to soak up all the love and laughter.

    In fact, one of my favorite memories of them is sitting down to dinner with them and her mom looking around the table and saying very discreetly “FHB” and the girls just laughed. P and I were intrigued, what is FHB? Well, apparently it’s their code for “Family Hold Back” which means make sure you serve yourself a small portion and let the guests eat as much as they want. It cracked us up because we were sitting at a table overflowing with food.

    A.J.’s dad is a surgeon and after we had Caroline, he made the comment that he had stitched up plenty of kids on his dining room table, so if she ever had an accident we should call him before we headed to the E.R. I filed that information away and then one day when Caroline was about 10 months hold, I was cutting fruit for her on her tray using a sharp knife (fabulous parenting skills) and she grabbed it and sliced her finger. I went into complete panic mode convinced that I had just severed her finger. I called A.J.’s mom to find out where her dad was because we had just cut Caroline’s finger (she later told me that I was so hysterical that what it sounded like I was saying was that we had been holding Caroline down and cutting her finger with a knife) and we probably needed stitches. Of course it didn’t help that P was telling me that there might be nerve damage.

    She found her husband and he told us to come directly to his office. He looked at Caroline’s finger, sprayed some antiseptic on it and taped it closed with surgical tape. So much for severed fingers. He was so understanding and took his time looking at it like he was performing brain surgery and as a mama I was so grateful. We all left the office together as he went to perform gall bladder surgery on someone who was actually in need of a surgeon and not just a bandaid.

    So, I tell y’all all of this so that you will understand that I have felt like I’ve been punched in the stomach. A.J. showed up at our door a few nights ago in complete tears and she isn’t a girl who cries at most things. She wasn’t even in the house before she said “We just found out this evening that my mom has pancreatic cancer. It’s already spread to her liver. There is nothing the doctors can do and she has 3 weeks to 6 months left.”

    All of the air was sucked out of the room.

    Words are completely inadequate.

    We hugged, we cried, we prayed.

    I can’t quit thinking about her family. Her mom was having some stomach pain for the last 2 or 3 weeks and the doctors did one last test just on a whim. That’s when they found the cancer. It blows my mind that you can spend 3 weeks hoping that you don’t have a stomach ulcer and instead find out that you may only have 3 weeks left to live. The doctors have told her there are no odds to beat because no one beats this.

    I know that none of us are guaranteed another day. Life is fragile and it’s our job to do what God has for us to do while we’re here. I don’t know why some people get 98 years, some 56 years, some 9 years and some 2 months. It’s not in the realm of human understanding because this life on earth is all we really know and we hold on to it tightly even though in Psalms we read that “each man’s life is but a breath”.

    A.J.’s mama knows that she’s going to Heaven and is a strong woman. She is surrounded by family and friends who love her dearly. In fact, A.J. told P last fall that she went hunting in a remote location with her dad and every night he’d use the satellite phone to call her mama. She asked him, “Daddy, why are you calling mom every night? It’s outrageously expensive”. And he looked at her and said “I just love her so much”.

    If y’all feel led, any prayers would be much appreciated. Not only that God’s will would be done, but for the whole family. They are all hurting so much right now.

    “We wait in hope for the Lord;
    he is our help and our shield.
    In him our hearts rejoice,
    for we trust in his holy name.
    May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord,
    even as we put our hope in you.”
    Psalm 33:20-22

    **edited to add that A.J’s mom passed away in April 2007. She fought the good fight.

  • The milkduds have gone straight to my brain, not to mention my braces

    So it’s that time of the month again (well, not THAT time of the month, my goodness that would be awfully personal information) and I find myself with a huge jumble of thoughts making their way around my head which is sad considering that it’s just the first day of the month. I wish I had something brilliant and witty to share, but obviously not enough to put real thought into it. I think part of my problem is that I’m coming down from a massive sugar high induced by candy I may or may not have stolen from Caroline’s trick or treat pile. Let me give you a random sampling (not of the candy, it’s mine…I mean hers) of a few thoughts in my head.

    1. Dancing With The Stars. I would like to walk around with a little mini-T.V. that would let me watch Emmitt Smith dance anytime I want to throughout my day. Of course technically that little T.V. does exist and it’s called an iPod. But y’all get my point, Emmitt has that smile and twinkle in his eyes that makes me want to carry him around in my pocket.

    My other thought on DWTS, did y’all see what Joey Lawrence had on at the Pumpkin Patch with his wife and daughter? That tight t-shirt, those jeans and that belt? I kept picturing P wearing that outfit and it cracked me up. I hope Joey has a stylist, because do men really dress like that?

    2. Speaking of pumpkin patches, Gulley and I decided on Monday morning to meet with the kids at the pumpkin patch. Only problem? Once we got there it was no longer a pumpkin patch, but rather just a pumpkin. As in only ONE pumpkin remained. So, here’s a picture of the kids gathered around the pumpkin. Festive, isn’t it?

    3. Just for clarification sake, let me say that I did not make Caroline’s pirate costume. I did make the duck and queen costumes, but the pirate was made by someone else. So, thanks for your compliments but it in no way reflected my limited sewing abilities. For the most part, putting peanut butter on a pinecone and calling it a squirrel feeder is about the extent of my craftiness.

    4. I helped with Caroline’s Halloween party at school today and while I was there both of her teachers mentioned how funny she is and just makes them laugh all the time. I can’t say it comes as any surprise to me, but I think it may fortell of some subpar conduct grades at some point in her academic future. Once again, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

    5. Do any of y’all remember the song Come On Feel the Noise by Quiet Riot? I heard it today and was hit with a wave of early 80’s nostalgia. I was instantly transported to a 7th grade dance pary held in Jamie Hornbuckle’s garage wearing Guess jeans and a button down Polo shirt with my penny loafers. Isn’t that weird how something like a song can make you think of a memory that you didn’t even know was in your head?

    6. Every morning as I’ve gotten dressed this week, I look in my closet and see all of my favorite winter sweaters mocking me. Oh the wardrobe options I would have if the temperature would just drop below 75 and stay there. I am tired of these “cold” fronts that tease me with a cold morning and leave me scrambling for my tired old shorts by the afternoon.

    7. I had an appointment with my lovely orthodontist this morning. P and I are now referring to him as Dr. Kevorkian. The only difference is that Dr. Kevorkian would put me out of my misery while my orthodontist perpetuates it. Anyway, he put some kind of new copper wires (they are really subtle) across my front teeth and told me they are real “food catchers” so I may want to avoid eating in public. Oh, no problem after all who really eats in front of people?

    So on that note, if y’all will excuse me I’m going to go sit in my closet and eat some more candy.