Doodle

  • The girl that turns my world around

    One morning last week I got out of bed. This isn’t any different from what I do every morning. I got out of bed, made my way into the kitchen, fixed Caroline a healthy breakfast of Lucky Charms served dry in a bowl, and packed her lunch. Then I walked to her closet and picked out three different outfits for her to choose what she’d like to wear to school that day.

    As I made my way back to the living room, holding three different outfits on hangers, the absurdity of the situation dawned on me. And it only took three years.

    Maybe it’s because I’d just finished reading The Other Boleyn Girl, but suddenly I felt very much like Mary Boleyn. Except without an affair with a power hungry king and the corsets. I have become Caroline’s very own lady-in-waiting. I pick out her clothes, I fix her hair, and I make sure she has everything she needs before she walks out the door.

    And I don’t mind doing any of these things. I’m a mom. It’s what I do.

    But on this particular morning as I humbly offered the three outfits carefully chosen from her closet, she looked at me and said, “The problem is you and I don’t have the same taste. I don’t like any of these choices.”

    And I might have become slightly unhinged. Don’t mess with a woman recovering from Christmas vacation who has just slaved over a dry bowl of Lucky Charms and cut the crusts off a ham and cheese sandwich.

    “Well, if you don’t like what I’ve picked out then you can go look in your closet and choose your own outfit. It doesn’t matter to me.”

    It’s true. Yes, there was a time when I desperately wanted her to wear certain outfits with matching bows in her hair and all the right accessories. But then she started first grade last year and I looked around and realized that every child at her school dresses in a style that can only be described as HOBO CHIC. And, honestly, that’s probably an insult to hobos all over the world.

    So she walked into her room and I waited to see what she would choose. And I waited.

    And I waited.

    After ten minutes had passed I walked in her room to find her twirling around in front of her mirror. Still wearing her pajamas.

    I WAS A DONKEY ON THE EDGE.

    “WHY AREN’T YOU DRESSED? WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN TWO MINUTES!”

    “I don’t know what I want to wear.”

    So I made a few more suggestions that she greeted with, “Or what else?” And I wished that I could do something simpler, like broker a deal for peace in the Middle East.

    Finally P came in the room to intervene and told her to put on a shirt with a pair of jeans. He might have also told me I needed to settle down. I can’t remember because I had to put my head between my knees to keep from blacking out.

    After the madness of the morning, I decided that Mary Boleyn needed to come up with a better solution. Our mornings have become increasingly filled with wardrobe drama after about a year of respite and I’ve been tempted to homeschool just so we can stay in our pajamas all day.

    When she got home from school that day I announced she was now responsible for picking out her own clothes the night before school. If she forgets to do it, then she has to wear whatever I pick out with no argument or debate about the unfairness of life and how it relates to your mom making you wear leggings.

    Leggings that you begged for only two months earlier.

    As it turns out, our new system isn’t that much less painful than the old system. It just takes place at 6:30 p.m. instead of 7:30 a.m. and I have the comfort of knowing I can send her to bed shortly after we debate the merits of a plaid skirt versus a tie-dyed dress.

    Which brings us to last night. The weather forecast indicated it was going to be the coldest day of the year so far. I reminded Caroline to go pick out what she wanted to wear the next day. She asked me to help her so I obliged. I’m not a heartless tyrant in spite of my penchant for leggings.

    As we stood in her closet she asked, “What would you wear if the weather was going to be cold and you wanted to be toasty warm?”

    I pointed out a few sweater dresses and some fleece-lined tops with leggings or jeans.

    And she asked, “What else besides any of those things?”

    Seriously. Netanyahu needs to call me. We can figure this Middle East thing out.

    I said, “You find something. I need to go finish cooking dinner.”

    About three minutes later I heard her sneak into the kitchen. She threw a folded up piece of paper at me and loudly whispered, “Open it”.

    I opened it.

    It read, “I NEED HELP”.

    Don’t we all, sister. Don’t we all.

    So, because I am a glutton for punishment, I walked back in her room to give it another try. I showed her a few more outfits that she found unacceptable until I finally channeled my inner fashionista and asked, “What’s your goal? What are you envisioning?”

    “Well. I definitely want to wear my legwarmers. And two shirts. And a skirt. Maybe with some tights. And a hat.”

    Done.

    And that is how I sent Punky Brewster off to school yesterday.

  • I am now focusing my sports enthusiasm on basketball

    The Cotton Bowl.

    That’s all I have to say about that.

    Well, except for this. I immensely enjoyed the first twenty minutes. The first twenty minutes were glorious and filled me with hope and joy.

    Caroline and I went over to Gulley’s house to watch the game with them and eat a little barbecue for dinner. (If you live in San Antonio and have never had the creamed corn from the Barbecue Station then I feel bad for you. Your life is a shadow of what it could be.) I’d brought lunch to Caroline earlier in the day and was telling Gulley that she’d requested Subway and how I am not a fan of Subway but I’ve discovered that I can tolerate a Veggie Delight on wheat bread with spicy mustard. Gulley remarked that I seem to be into my vegetarian dishes lately and I agreed that I could probably give up meat altogether. However, I feel the need to disclose that I was piling my plate high with brisket at the time. And didn’t really even get the irony until about five minutes later.

    So, probably not going to be a vegetarian as long as cheeseburgers and brisket exist.

    Anyway, we all gathered around the T.V. in all manner of Aggie paraphernalia with great big maroon high hopes. We yelled and cheered and texted our various LSU acquaintances with a little good-natured smack talk. And then, midway through the second quarter, the game and the kids all came crashing to the ground at the same time. Jackson was close to passed out on the couch because he was so tired, while Caroline and Will began to request that Gulley and I referee their argument over some sort of Bakugan toy because they can’t just accept that they’re exhausted and feel the need to fight over minutiae.

    By half time it was clear that Caroline and I should just head home for the second half of the game. This proved to be a good decision as evidenced by the fact that she began to cry over the death of my Nanny’s cat, Rascal, during the drive home. It seems less tragic in light of the fact that Rascal has been dead for about three years now. That’s what you call MANUFACTURED DRAMA.

    I put Caroline to bed and finished watching the game even though I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. I held out hope for a comeback long after logic would have said to just go to bed already. Gulley and I texted back and forth and ultimately agreed that watching the Aggies lose the Cotton Bowl in the comfort of our homes was far preferable to January 1, 1992 when we were actually there to watch them lose the Cotton Bowl to Florida State and nearly froze to death and had to share one hot dog between six friends because we were a bunch of idiot college students that had spent most of our money on New Year’s Eve festivities which resulted in having to pool together our remaining cash to purchase one community hot dog.

    (I know what you’re thinking. One hot dog? Freezing cold? Six friends watching our team lose while suffering the after effects of too much New Year’s Eve fun? What’s not fun about that?)

    On Saturday we stayed in our pajamas almost all day. It was cold and dreary and the perfect day to listen to Caroline read some classic literature aloud to me while we sat by the fire. Or maybe we just watched way too many episodes of Phineas and Ferb. I can’t really remember.

    P got home from hunting by mid-afternoon and then it was time for our big event. Caroline’s first basketball game. I don’t know when anything has brought me more joy. She’d never really mentioned basketball, but then several of her little friends all decided to play and now it appears that we are into basketball. Her first practice was last Thursday and she came home and announced, “I already know everything about basketball.” Which is so impressive considering she’d never even dribbled a ball until about two weeks ago. She’s a basketball prodigy.

    The game was hilarious. In large part because none of the girls have ever really played before and it took them a while to get the concept. For her part, Caroline moved around the court and guarded her opponents in a manner reminiscent of Anthony Michael Hall trying to dance with Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles.

    In the end our team won 12-8. So I take comfort in the knowledge that at least one of my teams won this weekend.

    And I didn’t have to share a hot dog with six people.

  • Back to life, back to reality

    Well. Yesterday morning was everything I imagined it would be. Complete with crying and real tears over all the tiredness along with an attempt to possibly manufacture a little stomach pain. And it was rough on Caroline, too.

    (I totally used that same joke on Twitter earlier. I apologize but I’m struggling for material here.)

    But, in the end, I helped her get dressed, put her hair in a ponytail, found her schoolbag, and sent her off to school with a cheery “GOOD NEWS! YOU ONLY HAVE TEN MORE YEARS OF THIS AHEAD OF YOU!” before I crawled back in bed.

    Not really. I didn’t go back to bed. Although I seriously considered it for about five minutes. Instead I fixed a cup of hot choffee and listened to some of Passion 2011 online before I finally made myself get dressed and go for the run I’ve been dreading for the last three weeks. Yet I did it because I’d promised myself I would every time I reached for a sugar cookie over the Christmas break. Which means I promised myself about 8,064 times.

    I survived the run, but didn’t experience a runner’s high so much as a MOTHER OF PEARL! THE PAIN! THE PAIN!

    (I’m using a lot of exclamation points today. I don’t know why!)

    After I got home and quit hyperventilating, I decided to run up to Michael’s and look for some picture frames for the living room. They’re currently 50% off with an additional 25% off coupon. (Supplies are limited. Limit one coupon per customer. I promise that Michael’s did not pay me to mention this and I’m just oversharing about the craft store savings.) Anyway, they were out of black frames in large sizes except for one that had a big scratch on it.

    I debated driving across town to the other Michael’s but that would have taken at least eight minutes and I was cold and lacking in frame ambition. So I went home. But I still need to find a frame because I finally ordered a vintage Texas map for the living room wall in the hopes that it will offset the large antelope hanging on the opposite wall.

    (Just play along with me on that. I realize there is no way to offset an 800 pound animal hanging on your living room wall with horns that make it look like a minion of the devil. But I need to hold on to just a bit of false hope.)

    I got back to the house just as P was getting home from having lunch with Caroline. He’d brought sushi up to the school because we are not opposed to food bribery when we’re trying to convince our child that she’ll have a great time being back at school after two weeks of all the fun, all the time.

    And so P and I sat down on the couch and spent the rest of the afternoon watching Rudy like we were a couple of kids in college with nothing better to do during the middle of the day than watch a movie that’s almost twenty years old and one of us has seen several times.

    (P had never seen Rudy. He didn’t even realize it was a true story. I don’t even know what to say about that. However, he did know that he was supposed to chant, “RUDY, RUDY, RUDY” so at least there’s that.)

    I had to leave to pick Caroline up from school right before Rudy actually got in the game. (I’m sorry if I just ruined the ending but it’s twenty years old and I figure if you haven’t seen it then you probably don’t care to.) She walked out of school smiling and holding hands with one of her best friends and they begged to have a play date, so it would seem that she survived the day in spite of the three part Greek tragedy she performed earlier that morning.

    Then I opened up her homework folder and the reality of spelling words and word problems hit me squarely in the face and I wished we could go back to Christmas vacation and a world where I don’t have to figure out how many hours Mary was at basketball practice if she got there at 4:00 and left at 10:00 but left for one hour to have a snack. Yes it’s basic math, but it’s still math that involves numbers.

    Of course I actually did my own math problem yesterday before she got home from school because when P asked me how much the frames at Michael’s were going to be if they were 50% off with an additional 25% off, I knew the right answer was CHEAP.

    Otherwise known as $15.00.

  • The eve of a new year

    I know.

    I didn’t post anything yesterday.

    But if I’m being perfectly honest, which I am, I haven’t even taken my Christmas decorations down yet. Or really even thought about taking my Christmas decorations down. Although I did buy two new ornament bins at Target on Wednesday which felt like a step in the right direction until I got home and looked at my tree and thought WOW, THAT SEEMS LIKE A LOT OF WORK.

    And now I’m ignoring all the ribbon and the blinky lights and the garland on my mantle.

    In other words, my motivation is at an all-time low. This Monday is going to be a big slap of reality right in my face. A slap of reality that will require me to once again be out of my pajamas before noon and get back to my Couch to 5K program and quit considering three iced sugar cookies to be part of a balanced, healthy breakfast. In other words, January 3rd is going to be a major buzzkill full of resolutions and exercise and steamed broccoli.

    I wish I had something profound to share with you. Some sort of deep reflections about 2010 and all the ways I grew as a person this year. But I’m not sure I do. I feel like it’s been one of the fastest years I can remember and, although it was filled with many blessings, it was also filled with some hard times and tough lessons and a general overall feeling of WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?

    And so I think that’s what 2011 holds for me. I want to be more intentional about how I use my time, my money and all the blessings God has given my family. I want to be a better mother, wife and friend. I want to listen more than I talk. I want to quit being so afraid of failure that I don’t even try. I want to listen for the voice of God and go where He leads even if I’m not sure what that looks like. I want to be the person He created me to be and realize that He knows all my flaws and frailties and there’s no sense to beat myself up about them on a daily basis.

    So, in short, I have my work cut out for me in 2011.

    I wish you all the happiest New Year. I hope it’s filled with everything you hope for and even better things that you didn’t even know you wanted.

  • Happiness and cheer

    Well here it is, multiple days after Christmas. I guess I better take the time to recall all the Christmas memories before I forget them all. Especially considering that I can’t even make a trip to the HEB anymore without forgetting at least two things that are WRITTEN DOWN on my grocery list. I used to be able to remember all sorts of things, but have reached a point where the only thing I can recall with total clarity are the words to just about every Beyonce song. Which is a handy life skill.

    Caroline spent the night with Mimi and Bops on the eve of Christmas Eve with her cousin Sarah. I knew things hadn’t gone that well when Bops showed up at my house with both girls by 8:15 the next morning. Word on the street is that they were all hyped up on the Christmas excitement, woke up around 3:30 a.m. and never really went back to sleep. I think they should consider themselves lucky that Bops didn’t just come to a rolling stop in front of my house as he kicked them out of the car. Not that he would do that. He’s a grandfather and grandparents tolerate things that parents don’t because they have the luxury of dropping kids back off at their house the next morning and going home to take a nap.

    The girls helped me roll out the dough for the fourteen pans of cinnamon rolls I was making and by helped I mean that they punched their fingers in the dough and forced me to have to roll it all out multiple times while I wondered if these are the kinds of conditions Mrs. Baird had to work under.

    Later on in the day it was time to head to church for the Christmas Eve service. Before we left the house I wanted to take some pictures of Caroline in front of the tree. This is what I got.

    Bless her heart. It’s like she’s never seen a camera.

    After church we went to Mimi and Bops’ house to eat tamales and open presents with my sister and her family. At that point I was able to get a few more candid shots of Caroline that more accurately depict her Christmas Eve countenance.

    We ate tamales and then Caroline read The Christmas Story to us before we opened our presents.

    My nephew Luke was busy being a muppet and had on white knee socks and black dress shoes. I could have sopped him up with a biscuit.

    After we opened presents, we cranked up Caroline’s new iDog from Mimi and Bops and just enjoyed being together and playing a little Scrabble Flash until we realized she and Sarah had been up since 3:30 a.m. and might be about to head south on us.

    We headed home so Caroline could put out milk and cookies for Santa and get in bed.

    And then Santa Claus began the daunting task of trying to figure out how to hook up the Wii. Santa is a little frightened by all modern technology, particularly cables that have to go in the back of televisions and possess the potential to possibly screw up all the recorded programming on the DVR. Not to mention that Santa had to perform feats of strength to move the T.V. out of the armoire so his elf could help run all the cords through the back. It’s all fun and games until a television crashes to the ground and ruins Christmas.

    Fortunately, Santa managed just fine and in the scheme of all the past “some assembly required” Christmases, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was much easier and required far less wine than the Polly Pocket Shopping Mall Roller Coaster Debacle of 2008.

    Caroline woke up Christmas morning and was so impressed that Santa not only brought the Wii, but that he took the time to set the whole thing up. She and her daddy immediately began to play.

    While an antelope watched his tree by night.

    Yes. He’s still here.

    There were cinnamon rolls and breakfast casserole to be eaten and more presents to be opened.

    And then Bops couldn’t resist the call of the Wii, so he and Caroline took each other on in a round of boxing.

    I wish I were kidding when I tell you that not only did he do the whole deep-breathing boxer thing with every punch, but he went full on Rocky Balboa and lifted both arms as he danced around in victory after defeating his seven-year-old granddaughter.

    It was a precious moment.

    After that we got dressed and headed over to P’s mom’s house to have Christmas with his family and apparently that’s the point when I completely forgot to pull my camera out and take a few pictures. There were more presents and food and family.

    Later in the afternoon we finally got back home. I could have laid down on the couch and slept for about six or seven years, but we hadn’t busted out the Just Dance 2 yet. And my need to dance triumphed over my need for sleep.

    Caroline put it in the Wii and picked “Call Me” by Blondie. Ten minutes later I had stripped off my sweater, taken off my boots, put my hair in a ponytail and was dancing like a woman possessed. Or obsessed. Unfortunately, my moves seem to be too much for the Wii. It doesn’t understand me or my rhythmic sensibilities.

    And so ultimately this will be the Christmas I’ll remember as the one where my child learned to talk trash to her mother.

    Good times.

  • The days before Christmas

    Well, it’s the night after Christmas and I’m sitting here on my couch with a few tears in my eyes because I just watched last year’s season finale of Friday Night Lights for the forty-second time and I never grow tired of watching Landry kick the game-winning field goal. I realize that’s probably a random thing to watch on the night after Christmas, but I’m officially over the Christmas movies and it seemed like a good choice.

    I also seem to have a piece of glitter near my eye that I keep seeing in my peripheral vision and it’s driving me a little bit crazy. Alas, it’s the price you pay when you have a fondness for the ribbons with all the glitter.

    So I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, other than Santa’s poor judgement in bringing Caroline some Aqua Sand, this may have been my favorite Christmas. I’m also going to say that after engaging in more Just Dance battles on the Wii than I can count, I better keep my day job. Not that I really have a day job. I choose to believe that what I lack in actual dance ability, I more than make up for in enthusiasm.

    I feel like I failed to recount a lot of things we did during the days leading up to Christmas and now I need to record them for posterity. Feel free to move on to something on the internet that’s more interesting. I hear there’s a site called You Tube that has all sorts of videos and something called Google that let’s you search for all manner of information.

    The Sunday before Christmas, Caroline and I drove down to the ranch to meet P. She spent some time with a little princess.

    And the next morning she went hunting with her daddy and she shot a turkey.

    I regret to inform you that its tailfeathers are currently in a Ziploc bag in my freezer. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to them, but I’m praying they don’t end up as some sort of wall decoration.

    We drove home later that day because we had big plans to go to the Riverwalk with Mimi and Bops, my sister and my niece to eat dinner at the Rainforest Cafe, home of the overpriced souvenir cup and occasional indoor thunderstorm.

    Please note that Caroline wore her jeggings. With a denim jacket. I don’t really recommend wearing them both at the same time, but she hasn’t heeded my clothing advice since she learned the word NO.

    Later in the week we made sugar cookies while wearing our jammies.

    My kitchen will never be the same again. I just have to resign myself to the fact that I’ll end up with festive sprinkles on the bottom of my feet anytime I walk through there until sometime around 2015.

    I had a great girls’ night out with my Birthday Club group on Wednesday night. There is no photographic evidence of this. You’ll just have to believe it happened.

    And then on Thursday, Caroline and I went over to Gulley’s to exchange Christmas presents with the boys. Look what Gulley bought Caroline.

    In Gulley’s defense, I told her to buy the Snuggie because Caroline begs me for one every time she sees them at HEB. I just wanted to clear that up because otherwise Gulley would call me and worry that the people on the internet will think she is totally lame for buying a seven year old a Snuggie.

    But I will have you know that when Caroline opened it up, she yelled, “FINALLY! FINALLY!!! FINALLY I HAVE MY VERY OWN SNUGGIE!!!!”

    And at that point I thought I should just take back the rest of her Christmas presents and save myself some cash because her joy was complete. A snuggie. A zebra print snuggie. Who says $15 can’t buy happiness?

    I think the kids all liked their gifts. Or maybe they were just all hyped up on sugar cookies and Dr. Pepper.

    I feel like I’ve already used too many words and I haven’t even gotten to Christmas Eve. Plus it feels like the Arctic Circle in my living room right now and I need to go get in bed. Or find Caroline’s new snuggie.

    I’ll continue the story of our Christmas tomorrow. I’m sure at least two of you will find it fascinating.

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