Doodle

  • Hello four

    Dear Caroline,

    In just a few hours, I’ll walk into your room with a plate holding a brownie with a candle on it. Daddy and I will sing Happy Birthday and tell you that we’re so glad you were born. Later on, we’ll have a big party, but this moment is just for the three of us. Daddy and I couldn’t have imagined how much you would bless our lives. It’s unspeakable joy.

    A few days ago, you and I went out to La Cantera (or as I like to call it, The Mecca) to shop for new shoes. We walked through the outside shopping area and finally came to the playscape, which for you is the best part of the mall, although you are learning to appreciate a good shoe department. You ran over and began climbing on the play equipment while I sat on a bench to watch you. All of a sudden it dawned on me that you were the biggest kid on the playground. When did that happen?

    tree

    In my mind’s eye, I still see you as this little toddler with elbows full of dimpled baby fat and chubby little cheeks, but when I looked at you standing on top of the slide, I realized with the perspective of someone seeing something for the first time, that this past year you have shed whatever was left of the baby, and have become a little girl. Long and lean and oh so sassy.

    diving board

    This past year has brought so many changes that I don’t even know where to begin, but I will start by telling you that you make me laugh out loud every day. I never know what is going to come out of your mouth and when you begin telling me some long tale, I just hold my breath in anticipation because I don’t want to miss a word. You are a character, in the truest sense of the word.

    eating

    One of your favorite things these days is to tell me a story about when you were a little girl. It always starts with “Mama, when I was a little girl…” and ends with various statements. Yesterday’s story was about when you were a little girl and went to Africa and rode a zebra all by yourself. I can’t believe I have no recollection of such a momentous trip.

    You wake up every morning ready to start the day. “Mama, get up! GET UP! Where are we going today? What are we going to do today? Let’s go, Mama! Let’s go.” And you run in your room to get yourself dressed, which is a whole other issue. I am no longer allowed in the inner sanctum that is your closet. You are very particular about the attire you will wear each day and this is new for me. I spent 3 years and 10 months getting to dress you like I wanted, but a new day has come and you’re in search of your fashion identity.

    The other day you came out dressed for school in some pink plaid shorts with a long sleeve red shirt and knee high socks with your tap shoes. You looked like a bag lady on her way to perform at a Vaudeville show. I am trying to let you express yourself, but I have my limits. I told you that you couldn’t wear that long sleeve shirt to school because it would be way too hot and I pulled out this darling, yellow dress from your closet and said, “How about this?” You looked at me, gave the dress the once over, and said, “No. I’m not wearing that. It’s YELLOW and it’s BORING.” You are many things, but boring will never be one of them.

    clothes

    You are particular about when you want to talk on the phone, but anytime you hear me on the phone with Gulley, you want to talk and I hear shades of myself as you say, “Gulley, what is going on over there this morning? Is Will feeling better? Did he have a fever? Maybe he has the throw ups.” It’s such an articulate conversation and it tickles me every time.

    The other day we were driving to deliver a meal to a friend that just had her second baby. You stated for the 1,000th time that you wanted a baby sister (and you’re very specific about wanting a sister, not a brother). You told me that you told Daddy and “he said we’ll have to see about that”. I explained to you that a baby sister would mean that you’d have to share Mama and that sometimes Mama would have to take care of the new baby instead of being able to be with you. You thought about it for a minute and then said, “That’s okay, Mama. I don’t need you anymore.”

    I’m keeping that in mind the next time you want me to come rock you or hold your hand while you walk to the bathroom at 3 a.m.

    In many ways, you don’t need me as much anymore. It still amazes me that you run in your room and put on your own pajamas every night. It amazes me that you go to the bathroom and request your privacy. It amazes me that if you want a snack, you’ll go get it yourself. And often, when I try to step in and do these things for you, you insist that you’ll “do it MYSELF”. I’m proud of you for that. I’m proud of you for your independence and your security in who you are and what you can do. You have no doubts about your abilities and my prayer is that you never do. You are unstoppable.

    fish

    But as independent as you are, we still end each day with you snuggling in my lap as I read you stories. Then, we turn out the light, say our prayers and you contort your body until you’re in a position where I can rock you for a few minutes. And just like when you were a baby, you bury your head in my chest, I breathe in the sweet smell of your hair, and I cherish this moment when I get a glimpse of the baby you used to be.

    I love you more than you know. Happy 4th birthday, my sweet girl.

    Love,
    Mama

  • Bedazzled by the dazzle

    One of the great things about being a kid, and one of the things kids don’t appreciate, is they pretty much require a new wardrobe to begin each new season. For the most part, Caroline has outgrown all of her clothes from last fall and winter and thus, will require new fall and winter clothes.

    I’m more than a little envious.

    However, if I were to outgrow my clothes from last season, it would be due to entirely different reasons. Very unpleasant reasons involving strawberry butter, cheese biscuits and three chocolate cookies. So, I guess I should be thankful that all my clothes still seem to fit.

    Anyway, I’ve slowly started buying things for Caroline’s back to school wardrobe here and there. It doesn’t get cold here until around November, so I can find some cute things on sale that will work through most of the fall. The thing I didn’t anticipate is that she’s reached the age where I can’t just hang the new clothes in her closet for safekeeping until back to school time arrives. Oh no, she has become a clotheshorse and, in all fairness, she comes by it naturally.

    She seems to have a sixth sense that detects any new clothing that has entered our home. She can sense the presence of a Nordstroms shopping bag from 3 rooms away. I have never been more proud.

    The problem is she wants to wear these new clothes immediately. And I have always said I am going to choose my battles, so I don’t really want to fight over the new clothing, which is why I gave in when she walked into the living room the other night wearing a new long sleeve t-shirt in lieu of a pajama top. It looked pretty cute and she had actually coordinated it with some Gap pajama bottoms with stars on them. I had to admire her fashion acumen. She won me over on style points, so I let her wear it to bed.

    ?

    The other day I bought her two new pairs of pjs at Old Navy, and then stopped by a local boutique and found a cute hot pink outfit with bedazzled rhinestone hearts on the shirt and on the leg of the knit pants. I am normally not a fan of anything that appears to have been bedazzled, but it was more than a little sassy and I felt like it fit her personality, so I bought it. When I got home I pulled the pajamas out of the bag and she was really excited, but then she said, “I feel that there is something else in there.”

    She sensed that she was in the presence of fashion.

    So, I pulled out the bedazzled apparel and it was love at first rhinestone. She begged and pleaded to put it on and I finally acquiesced, with the stipulation that she could only wear it around the house. A few seconds later she was decked out and sitting next to me on the couch in her new little outfit. I noticed her doing something out of the corner of my eye, so I looked to see what was going on. She was kissing the rhinestone heart on her shirt, then she kissed the rhinestone heart on the pants. And then, she licked both of them.

    Apparently, the outfit was good enough to eat.

    And in a way, I understood. It’s how I felt in 5th grade, the first time I ever wore Jordache jeans. Okay, honestly, it’s how I feel about the jeans I bought last week.

    The difference is I didn’t actually eat my jeans.

    I had to make a statement that prior to motherhood I never dreamed of, “Caroline, don’t lick your clothes.”

    A little while later it was time for rest time, so I put her in bed. About an hour later, she came out of her room and I noticed the front of her shirt was wet. Then, I noticed that a few of the bedazzles were missing.

    “Caroline, what happened to your shirt? What did you do?”

    “I ate those shiny, beady things.”

    “What, you did what?” (Why do I always ask when I already know the answer?)

    “It had too many of those shiny, beady things, so I ate some.”

    “If you eat your clothes, Mama’s not going to buy you new ones.”

    Words to live by, my friends. Words to live by.

  • And as I washed the smell of bowling alley out of my hair, I knew it had been a good day

    Guess what it did here yesterday? Seriously. Guess.

    IT RAINED.

    And here is where I’d like to make some stupid joke about animals walking down our street being led two-by-two by an elderly gentleman with a long beard, but at this point it just seems like a cliche.

    Caroline got in bed with us at around 5 a.m. when she claimed that thunder had woken her up. The rule at our house, that we enforce with semi-regularity, is that she can only get in our bed if she’s sick or if it’s thundering outside. I’m not sure that it was actually thunder that she heard at 5 a.m., but I was too tired to debate it and honestly, it could have been because that’s all it ever does anymore. It thunders and it rains. Rinse. Repeat.

    I asked, “Are you sure it was thunder?” She said, “Yes, it was thunder and I know because my ears are very sensitive.” I wasn’t convinced, but she won me over with the claim of her sensitive ears and and so I let her get in our bed. We fell back asleep and woke up around 8 a.m. to the sound of legitimate thunder and raining.

    Gulley called around 8:45 because we had planned to take the kids to the free Wednesday movie at the theater, but we decided we didn’t feel like driving across town in the driving rain to go see “Clifford’s Really Big Movie”, otherwise known as parental torture in the form of a large, red canine. So, we ruled out the movie and Gulley asked, “What are we going to do all day in this rain?” And I said, “We’re going to pack us a sack lunch and come spend the entire day at your house.”

    And that’s exactly what we did. Except we didn’t pack a sack lunch.

    However, I did pack several of our DVD’s including “Muppets in Space” and also my new jeans so that I could show them to Gulley and she could try them on to see if she needed a pair for herself. Oh, and I brought my laptop, but never could figure out how to get it connected to the wireless interweb at Gulley’s, so I spent the whole day away from the computer and, other than some mild twitching around noon, I survived.

    The kids all ran back to the playroom to play and we attempted to have a conversation, but kept getting interrupted because, apparently, the gang felt they needed to “ice skate” in the living room. So, because the rain has driven us to desperation, we went and got in Gulley’s bed, turned Food Network on the T.V., and let the children take over the entire house. Did I mention we were both wearing the same clothes we’d had on the night before? Clothes that are really one step away from pajamas, but if you call them “yoga pants” they become totally acceptable, if not attractive.

    Every now and then one of the kids would come in and ask us for some juice or something and we’d say, “Why can’t you people leave us alone? Don’t you know we’re trying to figure out if black tights are really going to be in for the fall? This is serious, serious stuff.”

    At some point we realized it was probably time to feed everyone lunch and when we emerged from the safe haven of Gulley’s room, this is what we saw.

    They had torn the place apart. And we didn’t care.

    We debated for awhile about what to do for lunch, the age old dilemma of McDonalds versus hot dogs. Delicious and nutritious either way. While we debated lunch, the kids started playing with a whoopee cushion. I’d like to say that Gulley and I were above it, but we weren’t. We gave in to the whoopee cushion and all took turns seeing who could give the most realistic portrayal of intestinal distress, loudly applauding all the dramatic efforts. It was all fun and games until Jackson got a little too enthusiastic and popped the whoopee cushion. He was pretty upset about it, but Gulley told him to just go get the other one out of the playroom. It was a proud moment for me to realize that my best friend is a two-whoopee cushion family. I mean anyone can have one whoopee cushion, but to have a spare? That’s just dedication to a lost art form.

    We decided we could all probably use to get out for a little bit, seeing as how we were down to our last whoopee cushion, so we loaded them up in the Trailblazer and drove through the pouring rain to pick up McDonald’s Happy Meals. We got home, ate our Happy Meals and had a little rest time. Gulley and I could have easily reverted back to our college days and taken a four hour nap, but the kids wouldn’t even sit still for a movie. We finally gave up after an hour of repeated demands for popsicles and Chex Mix, and decided to let them bake cookies.

    Gulley helped the kids make Paula Deen’s Triple Chocolate Chip cookies and oh my word, they are better than strawberry butter. I’m not even going to talk about how many spoonfuls of dough I ate because it’s just shameful. Here’s a batch fresh out of the oven.

    So, we’d played, we’d talked, we’d eaten, we’d baked and we’d eaten some more. It was 3:00 p.m.

    What to do? How do we fill these hours with meaningful, purposeful, perhaps even educational, activity?

    We bowl, my friends. We bowl.

    And please tell me that I am not the only one who is envisioning the entire bowling alley scene from Grease II right now. “We’re gonna scooooore tonight. We’re gonna scooooore tonight.” I actually thought they were just talking about bowling.

    Anyway, we hit the lanes. We laced up our bowling shoes, grabbed the lightest bowling balls we could find and had ourselves a little tournament. Check out this style and form.

    We discussed taking them to the museum, but decided to show them some real culture instead, to teach them a skill that will serve them well throughout the rest of their lives. And a great time was had by all, even though none of us broke 100 in spite of the bumpers in the gutters. Gulley should be ashamed of herself because she took bowling for kinesiology credit at A&M and really didn’t play up to her potential.

    Eventually, everyone got a little bowled out.

    We headed home, proud that we had turned what could have been a dreary, boring day into a day of fun and adventure. And I’m not even talking about the adventure that comes when you visit a bowling alley in a sketchy area of town.

    If it keeps raining, we’re going to see about opting out of our pool membership and joining a bowling league. You can’t put a price on that kind of entertainment.

  • One in a million

    When Caroline was still just a wee little baby, who held my heart in the palm of her tiny, tiny hand, I started playing a game with her every time I placed her on the changing table. I would say, “How many kisses am I going to give Caroline? Oooone? Twoooo? Nope. A MILLION. A MILLION!!” And I’d kiss her little cheeks and her hands and her round tummy. She’d giggle and squeal and just melt my heart a little bit more.

    Eventually, she outgrew the changing table and, thankfully, became potty-trained. We don’t have the opportunity to play our little game 6 or 18 times a day like we used to but, every now and then, she’ll come plop herself in my lap and say, “Give me a million kisses, Mama!”

    So I stop whatever I’m doing to take advantage of this sweet, fleeting moment in time, and I listen to her giggle and squeal and my heart melts all over again.

    A day will come when I’ll be lucky to get even one kiss so, for now, I’ll take the million anytime I can get them.

  • Preschool’s next top model

    Rain. I don’t even know what to say about the rain. If y’all visit one day and I’m no longer here, just know that the rain has driven me insane and I’m curled in a fetal position somewhere mumbling, “Just make it stop. Please make it stop.” A few rainy days are nice. No pressure to get out of the house or do anything.

    “Hey! Let’s put up the ladybug tent, get some blankets and watch some movies! It will be fun! FUN!”

    But we’ve turned a corner. The ladybug tent mocks me from the playroom and if I have to watch Cinderella try on that slipper one more time, I may seriously lose my mind. I even broke down and rented “Barbie and the 12 Annoying Princesses”. It’s not pretty.

    Caroline’s new favorite rainy day activity is to change her clothes as many times as possible in a 24 hour time period. She starts in at 6:30 a.m. with “What are we doing today, Mama? I’m going to get dressed!” And off she goes to put on outfit #1.

    After a breakfast of waffles and a little “Go Diego Go”, it’s time for outfit #2.

    When I announce we’re going to brave the rain and go to the grocery store because I am desperate to get out of the house, it’s time for outfit #3.

    I tried to fight it for awhile, but the endless rain has sapped my resolve. The inmate is running the wardrobe asylum.

    Here she is in the queen dress from her Halloween costume two years ago.

    This was wardrobe option #4 today and lasted long enough for her to demand that I take a few pictures. So, not only is she wearing multiple outfits a day, she is also barking orders about photo shoots, proper lighting, and making sure I get her best side. It’s like living with a miniature Naomi Campbell.

    We did have a moment today, in between outfits 5 & 6, where I saw a glimpse of myself in this OCD wardrobe behavior. She was stripping down, running towards her room and yelled, “Mama! I’m going to look in my closet for something else to wear! WISH ME LUCK!”

    Godspeed, little fashionista. Your mama has often uttered those same words.

  • JT is right, what goes around comes around

    I’m going to tell y’all about a painful lesson I learned on Friday morning about karma.

    Caroline and I were headed out to go buy her some new cowboy boots at Cavenders Boot City and for some reason I thought it was a good idea to shut my car door while I was adjusting my seat. This lack of judgement resulted in me slicing my thumb open and gushing blood all over my new car.

    I yelled at P, who was in the backhouse/man-cave, to come watch Caroline while I ran in and grabbed some paper towels to stop the bleeding and also, some first aid supplies.

    And as I’ve looked at my practically amputated thumb all weekend, all I can think about is how I mocked Dave and his horrendous oyster shell injury last week. It may serve me right that I’ve spent the last 36 hours wearing my very own Care Bears band-aid, Talk Smack A Lot.

    Of course, I still didn’t have to lie in the driveway while P brought me granola bars and Gatorade.