Doodle

She’s clearly not doing the safety dance

On Friday morning, Caroline woke me up bright and early whispering in my ear, “Mama! I see lightning outside!” As soon as my heart rate returned to levels of non-cardiac arrest, I mumbled, “No you don’t. It’s just the security lights outside”. But then I heard the rain and realized she’d actually seen lightning.

And then I secretly hoped that it would mean the field trip to the zoo would be cancelled because I totally lack the motherhood gene that allows you to love the zoo, especially the zoo with three buses of second-graders.

Don’t get me wrong. I have done my time at the zoo. We’ve even had some good times at the zoo. I think the fundamental issue is that I’ve never been very good at the proper timing of the zoo departure. We always stayed too long and by the time we got to the car, all hot and whiny and covered in melted ice cream, the precious memories of the elephants and the lions have faded away. And most of what I remember involves a meltdown and how bad the hippos smell.

Seriously. What is up with the hippos?

As it turned out, the thunderstorms were just passing through and the field trip was able to go on as scheduled but now WITH MORE PUDDLES! AND SAUNA-LIKE CONDITIONS!

I was in charge of a group of four girls including Caroline. Their teacher had given them a scavenger hunt sheet to fill out with information about various animals and things about them. Our group kept up that painful process through about five animals, but I felt my soul dying inside by the time I had to spell “mammal” for the eighth time in four seconds. Plus I realized I was the only parent who was still actually making the kids fill out the sheets which BUZZKILL.

So I ended up putting the sheets in my purse and forgot to give them back to the kids before they got on the bus. Then Caroline came home from school on Friday and told me her teacher wants the sheets back and the Ziploc bags they came in. Which I would be more than happy to return except for the fact that I threw them all away in a trashcan outside of Joseph’s Bakery after I ordered myself a celebratory hot chicken salad sandwich and large Diet Coke when the field trip was over.

Basically, chaperone FAIL.

And now I guess I have to go in and explain what happened and hope that I am allowed to chaperone future field trips even though I basically participated in the elementary school version of the Enron scandal.

In other news, my friend Paige was in town this weekend and we spent the whole day together on Sunday. Caroline and I picked her up in the morning and we met P at church. Then we all went to breakfast at Taco Garage where she got to experience the wonder that is chilaquiles for a late breakfast. After that, P knew to make his escape and the girls headed out with the sole purpose of finding Paige a pair of cowboy boots.

I am happy to report that after visiting three different boot establishments, we returned to our original destination of Cavender’s Boot City and Paige bought some boots that will cause me to have boot envy anytime I see them.

But one of my favorite parts of the day was when Paige, Caroline and I were all sitting around the food court at La Cantera taking a quick snack break. There was a little Madonna playing on the overhead speakers and Paige was kind of dancing in her seat. She asked Caroline, “Little gal, do you like to dance?”

Caroline answered, “Yes, I love to dance. I have some good moves.”

Paige said, “Oh, I’d love to see your moves.”

To which Caroline replied, “Oh, I’d show them to you but they’re too dangerous for the mall”.

Too dangerous for the mall.

I don’t even know what else to say.
It’s only a matter of time before she starts reading the Thrifty Nickel

So I was all set to write an entire recap of our weekend on Sunday night, but then I watched the season finale of Mad Men and was so overwhelmed by all the twists and turns of Don Draper’s life that I was rendered temporarily incapable of discussing anything but events that take place at a fictional ad agency in the 1960’s. But I won’t be talking about any of that here because I don’t want to spoil anything for those of you who haven’t made it a priority on your DVR. All I can say is OH MY WORD.

But enough about 1965.

Last Friday morning started off on an interesting note around here. Mainly because P called the police around 6:30 a.m. when a strange man kept circling the block in his car with the lights off and finally parked right by our driveway. As it turned out, our neighbors were having a garage sale that was scheduled to open at 8:00 and the man was merely an early bird. And was soon joined by a whole band of fellow early birds who sat outside on our back steps and smoked their cigarettes while they waited for the neighbors to open up their garage. Needless to say, P was ready to run them all off our property and Caroline was completely invigorated by the drama of the morning.

By the time we left for school, the neighbor’s garage was open and Caroline and I both saw racks and racks of what appeared to clothing, purses and all manner of boots. She said, “OH MAMA! LOOK AT ALL THAT GOOD STUFF OVER IN THEIR GARAGE!”

After I dropped Caroline off at school, I decided it was only neighborly to go over and check everything out. Especially since I knew this particular neighbor used to own a really cute boutique here in town and there was no telling what might be over there. Sure enough, I was not disappointed. I totally scored. Not only did I walk away with a few brand new shirts and a great necklace, but I also found this adorable chandelier for Caroline’s room.

Use your imagination and picture it actually hanging somewhere instead of just sitting on my bedroom floor.

Then P walked across the street to investigate how I was spending the cold, hard cash I’d just begged him for and discovered what has become the greatest thing that has ever happened to Caroline EVER.

When she came home from school on Friday and discovered her new beaded curtain hanging over her bedroom door, she exclaimed, “I DON’T KNOW HOW I COULD HAVE ANYTHING BETTER THAN THIS. IT’S WHAT I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF!”

Which absolutely made the $3.00 we spent on it seem like a total bargain because how much is too much when you want your room to look like a Moroccan casbah?

I had to pull myself away from the yard sale bargains because my friend, Jill, was on her way to my house. Jill is one of my oldest friends in the world and, before Friday, we hadn’t seen each other in over twenty years. Actually, we’d seen each other once briefly during our freshman year of college but I didn’t even remember that until she reminded me. Probably because that period of my life is kind of hazy due to a lot of BAD DECISIONS AHOY during that particular year.

Anyway, Jill and I have been friends since second grade but lost touch sometime during college and hadn’t communicated at all until we found each other on Facebook about a year ago. As it turns out, she and her family are about to move to San Antonio. Which, HELLO SMALL WORLD. And the best part is that we picked up right where we left off and had the best time catching up on the last twenty years. It’s nice when you realize that the same people you liked at seven years old are the same people you like now.

I picked Caroline up from school and she immediately requested that we head over to the garage sale, but, alas, they had already closed down for the day. I promised we could go on Saturday morning after her soccer game. Which is how we ended up over there at 10:30 a.m. in full soccer gear buying all manner of newsboy caps, pink hairpieces, faux zebra print jackets, a flower mirror, several pieces of costume jewelry, and a pair of floral suitcases that are right out of 1967.

Caroline had brought her own money to pay for her purchases and so she approached our sweet neighbor with her pile and asked, “What kind of deal can you give me on all this stuff?”

The neighbor looked at her and said, “Well, that zebra print jacket alone is priced at $30”

Caroline just looked back at her. Unflinching.

Our neighbor knew she’d been beat. She looked at Caroline and said, “You can have it all for $20”.

Caroline thought it over for a minute. I assured her she was a getting a great deal and so she handed over her money.

As we carried all her loot back to the house, she exclaimed, “OH MAMA! I DON’T KNOW WHY WE DON’T SHOP AT MORE GARAGE SALES!”

And, thus, a new generation of garage sale shopper has been born.

Nena will be so proud.

And also probably a little jealous of what we found.
She believes less is more. More boring.

Over the weekend someone discovered how a few well-placed accessories can transform an outfit

from plain and boring to hobo chic with a side of Lady Gaga.

At some point we may need to discuss the famous Coco Chanel principle of “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory.”

But how is a girl supposed to choose between her newsboy cap and her hot pink hairpiece?
Funny knows no gender

On Saturday evening Caroline and I were driving to the ranch, just the two of us. And she had a lot of thoughts she wanted to share and questions she wanted to ask. After we covered everything from why no one lives on Mars to how cold your feet would get on Pluto to what we would do if a grizzly bear ever came in our house, she asked, “Mama, what was your real middle name before you married Daddy?”

“It was Melanie Anne.”

“Melanie Anne?”

“Yep, that was Mama’s name for twenty-six years.”

“So you were twenty-six when you got married?”

“Yes.”

“Is that how old you’re supposed to be?”

I explained that there is no right age to get married, although somewhere around thirty-three is preferable, and that the most important thing is to wait for the right man. A man who loves you and treats you like you’re the most special thing in the world.

“So, not a bully?”

“No, baby. Definitely not a bully.”

“So someone who treats you sweet?”

“Definitely. And someone who will make you laugh. It’s important to marry someone who makes you laugh.”

“Aww, man.”

“What is it?”

“It’s too bad that I’m not a boy. I’d be a great husband since I AM SO HILARIOUS.”

Yes. Yes she is.

And the self-confidence doesn’t hurt matters either.

(Yes, I took this picture about a month ago when my kitchen was still turquoise)

__________________________________________

There’s a new chance to win $100 gift card on my Kellogg’s giveaway page.
It’s not really a dry heat

I will remember Saturday as one of the hottest days of my life. Although I’m sure I’ve probably survived hotter days. But those days didn’t happen forty-eight hours ago so I don’t need to complain about them at this juncture.

Saturday morning started off just fine. Except for the fact that Caroline doesn’t really get the concept that Saturday mornings are for sleeping in. I can’t figure out why I have to drag her out of bed Monday through Friday but yet she wakes me up at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday morning by leaning in as close to my face as she can get and uses a stage whisper to ask, “Will you turn on some cartoons for me?” After I peel myself off the ceiling, I lovingly say, “Go find your daddy”.

But P had to head out early Saturday morning to help a bunch of men cook about 8000 pounds of meat, give or take 7900 pounds, for our church’s fall festival and he wasn’t available to turn on cartoons and scramble some eggs. So I rolled out of bed, cooked some breakfast, and hoped for a cat nap during Phineas and Ferb before we had to leave for our soccer game.

The game was at 1:00. We got dressed and left for the fields by 12:30. This was a personal best departure time for me, especially considering that P wasn’t there to rush me out the door. It was my day to bring snack so I lugged the cooler across the parking lot and felt like I was about to die because it was approximately 132 degrees with about 204% humidity.

We met P at the field and the Cheetah Girls took to the field for what had to be the hottest, most torturous game of their little soccer careers. Bless their hearts, they all looked like they’d jumped in a pool by the time it was over. And meanwhile all the parents sat on the sidelines and complained about how we’d never been so hot in our lives. As we sat there. Drinking our water. Under our umbrellas. Cheering on our precious babies as they ran up and down the field.

After the game, Caroline and I drove out to the Fall Festival with P to see if I could possibly get any hotter without spontaneously combusting. As it turns out, I didn’t explode. But I wanted to. I would have happily exploded if it meant that I could have gotten out of the heat.

I spent Saturday night trying to hydrate myself and wishing I could pack myself in a bathtub of ice like they did to Almanzo in that episode of Little House on the Prairie when he was so sick and Laura showed up to take care of him and let him know she still loved him even though he’d said that no woman of his was going to have a job. It’s one of my top five favorite Little House episodes ever.

On Sunday Caroline ended up spending most of the day with Mimi and Bops. I was all excited about the alleged cold front that still hasn’t shown up as I type this (if it doesn’t make it here I will say horrible things about the weatherman for leading me on) and decided it would be a great time to really clean off our back porch and get it ready for all the dinners I envision us eating out there once the weather drops down to a crisp 85 this week.

P had planned to sit on the couch and do nothing all day, but I lured him into my cleaning scheme because he doesn’t trust me to mix the bleach in the little pressure washer thing. I mean, you kill the grass dead one or six times and everyone’s a critic.

Somehow cleaning the porch turned into bathing the dogs, taking the screens off all the windows and washing them from top to bottom and cleaning off all the outdoor furniture. I say that like we have vast amounts of outdoor furniture. We have a table. And four chairs. And a glider thing. Still, it was a lot of work.

I also discovered that we don’t have any grass AT ALL on the far side of our house. It’s just dirt. Dirt that turned into mud while I washed the windows over there. So I asked P, “How long have we not had grass on that side of the house?”

“About seven years.”

Clearly I need to get out more.

Later in the afternoon, Mimi and Bops dropped Caroline off. She handed me a Ziploc bag full of acorns and said, “Mama, I picked all these up for you so you can put them in the glass things on the dining room table”.

(The glass urns on my table are filled with pinecones, acorns and little pumpkins right now. Very festive.)

“Thanks, Baby. That’s so sweet!”

What a sweet girl. Always thinking about her mama and taking the time to pick up all those acorns just to make me happy.

“You’re welcome, but I’m going to need to get a few dollars for them.”

Okay, so maybe she’s not as sweet as much as she’s a capitalist.
Maybe Halloween Oreos are the key

I’ve no doubt that you will all be relieved to know that W.C. Fields has been captured. They found him at some kind of Concept Therapy Institute which appears to be a place designed to help people deal with stress. Clearly life at the monkey compound got to be too much for him. I wonder if it was helping his child study for a spelling test that finally pushed him over the edge and made him seek out mental help?

So I never managed to write about what we did last weekend. And, honestly, consider yourself spared because it was a lot of blah, blah, blah with some boring and college football squeezed in for good measure.

But there was one moment that I wanted to record for posterity.

We ended up spending Saturday afternoon over at Gulley’s house. The kids played in the backyard while we solved several of the world’s most serious problems. At one point I even offered to pay them a nickel for every stick they picked up out of the yard because I harbored some grand delusions about turning them into a fall centerpiece for my dining room table.

Jackson and Caroline were all over this. They picked up every stick they could find. As opposed to Will who looked me dead in the eye and said, “I hate nickels.” Caroline told me later that he told her he hated money and she declared that his wife was “GOING TO BE SAD ABOUT THAT”.

Preach it, sister.

Anyway, around 4:00, Gulley’s husband announced that he was going to go dove hunting and said the boys could go with him if they wanted to. Will immediately jumped at the chance and ran to his room to put on his favorite shark t-shirt before he rethought that decision due to his concern that the shark would scare away all the doves.

Jackson initially said he wanted to go as well, but I’d also told him he could come over to our house for dinner so he and Caroline could hang out a little longer. He was torn. It was an eight year old version of Sophie’s Choice and he declared that he was going to flip a coin to make his decision.

Caroline yelled out that she wanted to be tails as Jackson found a quarter in Gulley’s purse. He flipped the coin, looked at it, and Gulley and I both watched as he nonchalantly flipped it over to where it revealed tails as opposed to heads. He said, “Looks like I’m going home with y’all”.

And so he did.

We ate dinner and dipped mass quantities of Halloween Oreos in glasses of milk until Gulley came to pick him up around 8:30.

Caroline has no idea what an achievement it is to get a boy to stay home and hang out with her instead of going hunting.

It’s a feat I’ve never managed to pull off in thirteen years of marriage.