Friends

Our very own wonder years

Gulley and I have been best friends for almost 20 years. In this time, we have taken many the road trip together. And the last few days proved that some things never change. I do the driving no matter whose car we’re in, we stop often for snacks, and we make each other laugh until someone spits their Diet Coke across the car.

Good times.

On Wednesday morning, the plan was Gulley and her kids would pick Caroline and me up around 10 a.m. This would allow us plenty of time to get to Bryan in time to show up at Gulley’s mama’s birthday luncheon. We hadn’t planned on the fact that it was pouring down rain, so we got started on our way around 11:00, when P put on his raincoat and carried an umbrella for me while I put Caroline’s car seat in Gulley’s car and loaded up our suitcases and all my pillows. Then, I went around to take the wheel because, due to my control issues and my impatience, I always do the driving.

Other than that, I’m really laid back.

Gulley let the kids take turns picking the music. Caroline picked something from the Cars soundtrack and then, it was Jackson’s turn. He picked “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC. Gulley looked at me and said, “When you write about this on the blog, because I know you will, please mention that he heard the song during the bullriding at the rodeo this year and not because I still listen to AC/DC on a regular basis”.

Oh, I’d say an AC/DC concert t-shirt proves otherwise, my friend.

It’s just a joke. A little humor to pass the time until I figure out the point of this post.

Here are our little headbangers in the backseat. Please note, not a cup pourer in the bunch.

During one of our frequent potty stops, Gulley let everyone pick out a bag of candy for the road. Her boys chose Skittles. Caroline chose Circus Peanuts, so really, who am I to judge about AC/DC? I have a child that will choose Circus Peanuts over something normal like M&M’s or Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Circus Peanuts are worse than those sugared orange slices that everybody’s grandparents keep in a glass candy dish.

There was also a point on the way home today that we decided to stop and get Chik-fil-A for the kids to eat for lunch. I asked Gulley if she was going to get something for herself and she said she didn’t know, was I going to get something? And I had to reply that I didn’t feel that hungry since I’d already eaten a chocolate chip cookie, two kolaches, and a donut earlier.

It was only 11:30 a.m.

But we both got an order of chicken nuggets anyway, because hello, it’s Chik-fil-A and my stomach might get nervous if I just went cold turkey on consuming massive amounts of greasy food.

Anyway, we had a great time. There are stories to be told, but it’s not going to happen right now. I’m still recovering from the massive amounts of fun, staying up way too late, and actually having a sore throat from talking so much. But here’s my thought on the road trip, and it’s a little sappy because I just watched the last episode of “The Wonder Years” and the Kevin Arnold voiceover talking about the fleeting days of childhood and one day being in diapers and the next day being grown, left me with tears running down my face because I am a big old sucker for emotionally charged television.

And I have PMS.

So really, I could have been watching “The Jeffersons” and started crying because it is so inspiring that George and Weesie worked their way on up to the East Side.

But here’s my point.

You know how at some point in life you’ve had that friend that you daydreamed with and thought how great it would be if y’all lived down the street from each other and got to see each other everyday and your kids could grow up together and be best friends?

Gulley is that friend for me.

When we met almost 20 years ago, I couldn’t have imagined that someday we’d live a mile away from each other, take road trips with our kids and that they would love each other as much as we love each other. But they do.

Caroline had a great time. And yes, some of it was due to the massive amounts of candy, the donuts, the birthday cake and getting to stay up way past bedtime. But mostly, it was because of how much she loves Jackson and Will.

I don’t know what the future holds for this little gang, but I bet there’s a lot of fun that will be had along the way.
I have been saved from a life of dry skin or LOOK! a non-controversial post

About a month ago, Boomama wrote a post about a friend of mine that owns a lavender farm in the Texas Hill Country. I had told Boomama about my friend’s lavender lotion and she had fallen in love with it with the same deep and abiding love as me. It is a lotion like no other, a lotion that makes other lotions weep with envy over their inferiority.

It’s natural, it’s aloe vera based, and it smells like 14 slices of heaven on a beautiful, china plate. I am addicted to it like it’s all natural crack.

And because of my addiction, I am constantly calling my friend to tell her to bring me a fresh stash. I’ve got to have the good stuff and I’ve got to have it now.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, she was dropping off a case of her Hummingbird Farms lotion at my house and brought me a new product to try, which proves she really is like a lavender aromatherapy pusher. She just feeds my addiction.

It’s a lavender spa treament salt scrub, otherwise known as the greatest beauty product I have ever used. When I use it on my feet and hands, it makes them softer than the day I was born. It is a miracle worker and the smell makes me happier than a bowl full of M&M’s.

But really, the main purpose of this post is to let y’all know she has started a blog called Lavender Chick. It’s about her life at Hummingbird Farms and just her life in general. So, go check it out. You’ll be so glad you did.

And make sure you don’t miss this post. It’s my favorite.
No one will ever have to tell because I’ll never ask

Last week, Gulley attended a Kindergarten roundup thing since her oldest son will be starting Kindergarten in the fall. It was basically an orientation type thing. My question is do they call it a roundup because we’re in Texas or is it called a roundup in places like Connecticut also?

My guess is no.

Anyway, the evening consisted of parents and their kids meeting all the teachers, seeing the school, and touring the individual classrooms. At the beginning or maybe it was at the end, (details! I’m all about details!) there was a question and answer portion to the roundup.

As Gulley was telling me about the question and answer session, she mentioned that she didn’t ask any questions because she realizes that she has a tendency to zone out and there is a good chance that whatever question she decided to ask, would have already been answered.

This led to a discussion of our shared fear of asking questions out loud in group settings, because here’s a little information that may save some of y’all time and embarrassment. Remember how growing up teachers and parents would always say things like, “There is no such thing as a dumb question”?

They lied.

Yes, Virginia. There is such thing as a dumb question.

If you don’t believe me, then may I tell you how sorry I am that the batteries in your hearing aid have given out.

I will be the first to admit that I tend to run out of patience for people who feel the need to ask all the questions with all of their what ifs and why nots, but lets be honest, if you’ve stopped for dinner at Church’s Fried Chicken, does it really matter what kind of oil the chicken is fried in?

The kind that clogs your arteries and will cause you to die, unless counterbalanced with some type of cholesterol medication.

When I call my company’s tech support line and tell the guy on the line that my computer died, does he really need to ask me if I’ve tried to turn it back on?

Apparently so.

And don’t get me wrong. I’m guilty. I have been known to ask the dumb question. Repeatedly. In fact, while Gulley and I were having our discussion about our fear of public questions, I told her a story that made me a legend in my high school youth group.

My sophomore year in high school, my youth group was having a lock in. For those of y’all who may not know (and now are afraid to ask) a lock in is basically an all night slumber party but without the sleep. Ours usually consisted of all night basketball games, hide and seek, and movies like Rocky III being shown in various Sunday School classrooms.

And drama. Lots of drama. You can’t lock in 25 high school girls and 15 high school boys without dealing with the emotional ramifications of all the relationship crises that can occur in a 12 hour time period.

Anyway, the Wednesday night before the lock in, our youth group leader was giving us information about the event. He said, “If your name starts with A-M, bring Cokes and if your name starts with N-Z, bring a bag of chips.” My hand shot up like a canon and I asked, “Is that first name or last?”

Now y’all may be thinking that’s not a dumb question and no, no it is not. Unless, your first name and last name start with the same letter which, of course, mine did. A fact that our youth leader quickly pointed out to me.

It was the day I lost my innocence and realized that yes, the dumb question does exist. For the next three years, anytime those chip bringing instructions were given, all eyes would turn to me and say “First name or last?”

So now, I refrain from the question portion of any event. It’s just better that way.

It will save Caroline and me a lot of embarrassment in the future, although she has the benefit of having a first name and last name that don’t start with the same letter.

I’m all about creating a better future for my child.
A tale of two airports and four new friends

Yesterday, I had to go to Dallas for some reasons related to my job at “the bank”. I’ll go into more detail on that another time, because it is an incredible story of God’s providence, but it will require some actual thought and I’m still trying to process all of it. Plus, I need to tell it in a way that won’t jeopardize my “banking” future, should anyone from the bank happen to stumble upon Big Mama.

I am nothing if not completely and totally paranoid.

Also, it just took me twenty minutes to figure out how to properly spell “jeopardize”, so obviously I’m working at full capacity.

Anyway, I booked my flight for Dallas a few days ago and had been told by my manager that the best airport to fly in to was D/FW. Since I know as much about Dallas geography as say, nuclear physics, I booked my flights according to her directions or so I thought.

I drove to the airport yesterday morning, got on my flight and everything went really well in spite of the fact that I was flying in one of those little death tube airplanes. Y’all know what I’m talking about; those planes that look like a good windstorm could blow them down, so you just take comfort in the fact that at least you probably won’t be a terrorist target because really, what kind of statement would it make to kill eight people who didn’t even get honey roasted peanuts or beverage service?

The tube ‘o death arrived safely at the airport and I got off the plane. Because I am so perceptive or maybe because of the enormous sign that said “Welcome to Love Field”, I realized immediately that I was not, in fact, at the D/FW Airport. And since I didn’t know anything about where I was going, this caused me to have a mild anxiety attack.

Or perhaps a full blown one.

I walked outside, found a cab, and showed the cabbie my sad, little post it note with the address of the “bank” home office and basically said, “Do you know where this is?”, which in cab language means “Will I have enough money left after this cab ride to buy a diet coke?”

He assured me that he knew where we were going and it wasn’t a big deal that I had flown into Love Field instead of D/FW. At least, I think that’s what he said because honestly, I couldn’t understand a word he said. To say that English was not his first language is an understatement along the lines of me saying I kind of like chocolate.

Nevertheless, he didn’t let the language barrier stop our conversation and he proceeded to talk throughout the entire trip. I have never been in such a huge need for subtitles in my life, but I just smiled, nodded and agreed with everything he said which could have been, “I’m going to drive you to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead. Is that okay?”

Smiling, nodding. Yes, sure, that would be great.

“I’m going to charge you $150 for this cab ride and drive you all over Dallas.”

Smiling, nodding. Oh really? That’s nice.

It all worked out and I arrived at my destination, had my meeting, and then found myself in yet another cab, this time headed to the D/FW airport. Apparently, the agency that booked my ticket found nothing wrong with flying me in to one airport and having me leave from the other.

In fact, I feel fairly certain that they did it because they were bored and liked the idea of making my brain short circuit.

“Hey Martha, watch this, I’m going to have this poor girl fly in to Love Field and leave out of D/FW.”

“Can we do that? Isn’t that kind of mean? Couldn’t that cause her some stress?”

“Well, yes. That’s the whole point.”

Anyway, I ended up having a change of plans on the way to the airport because I stopped off to meet Sarah from In the Midst of It and her kids, Caiden, Grayson and Addison at a coffee shop. We had exchanged emails the day before and decided that we would try to meet if time allowed.

Time, indeed, allowed. And I am so thankful.

If y’all are thinking you’re jealous that I got to meet Sarah, then let me tell you that you should be. She is cute, funny and sweet and I loved her instantly. I even got to hold Addison and let me tell y’all that she is a little bundle of pink heaven.

And I don’t mean to brag, but by the end of our two hour visit, both Grayson and Addison felt comfortable enough around me to have blowouts in their diapers…or maybe they just couldn’t hold it any longer. But still, it was a special moment and I like to think it was their way of saying they really liked me.

So after we talked and talked, Sarah sealed her place in my heart forever by sparing me yet another harrowing cab ride and driving me to D/FW to catch my flight. Let me tell y’all that the visit made a day that I had been dreading, totally worth it.

And if y’all could see the plane I flew home on, that is saying something.
And they have fried apple pies!

I mentioned a few days ago (or weeks ago, I can’t remember and I won’t pretend like I do) that Caroline’s social schedule is increasingly busy. I mean, it is just one party after another here. In fact, we have been to so many parties in recent weeks that Caroline has started asking for party favors whenever we leave anyones’ home. And yes, we’re working on that, but it’s hard for a girl to leave any kind of social gathering without a bag full of plastic clown yo-yos, fake tattoos, and one of those wooden paddles with the ball attached.

The thing about the parties around here is, for the most part, they are a study in excess. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, and I am all about a good party, but it’s just a matter of time before some of these parents start hiring Beyonce to sing Happy Birthday to the birthday boy or girl.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I would actually crash a child’s party to hear Beyonce sing (especially if she’d sing something like ‘Diaperlicious’ for the preschool set), but my point is that the whole party thing can start to feel like one more leg of the relay in the great race to be the BEST Mommy Ever.

This past Friday, Gulley had a birthday party for her youngest son Will, and in a stroke of pure, unmitigated genius, she went old school and had the party at McDonalds. Can I tell y’all that it was the best birthday party we have been to all year? I know Gulley won’t mind me telling y’all that the whole thing including Happy Meal lunches for ten kids, lunch for the Mamas, the cake WITH ice cream, AND the invitations cost $60.00.

$60.00. SIXTY DOLLARS.

I’ve been to parties where they paid more than that for just the cupcakes and the kids didn’t even get to wear birthday hats with Grimace on them. Seriously, did y’all know that Grimace still exists? He does, y’all. He does.

Caroline thoroughly enjoyed herself. She sat and ate her Happy Meal while occasionally stopping between bites of her cheeseburger to drink a little ketchup out of the paper container. At one point, I told Gulley to look at Caroline compared to her little friend Sadie sitting next to her.

Sadie was sitting, delicately eating her chicken nuggets, blonde hair up in a neat ponytail with her Grimace crown perfectly balanced on her head and she’d stop from time to time to wipe a small dab of mustard off her lips. Meanwhile, Caroline was hopping up and down in her seat with her little pigtails plastered to her head under the Grimace crown that sat askew on her head while she ate her cheeseburger, drank her ketchup and periodically opened her mouth full of food really wide to yell “CHEESEBURGER!!!” as her picture was being taken.

She is a delicate, delicate soul.

My point is (yes, I have a point!) the kids loved this party and not one of them complained that the cast of Cirque de Soleil didn’t show up to spell out the birthday boy’s name by contorting their bodies or that the centerpieces weren’t made entirely of gourmet lollipops and peonies.

In fact, I have a strong feeling that Caroline may be celebrating her 4th birthday with Ronald and Grimace because her birthday is in August and that $60.00?

Includes air conditioning.
Look away, I’m hideous

This morning I had to return to the real world and get back to work at the “bank”. Of course, in all honesty, the bank can be a pretty cushy job at times, so my morning actually consisted of eating breakfast at one of my favorite breakfast restaurants with my co-worker Dee, while we strategized about the new year.

Dee’s daughter is the one who had the misfortune of babysitting Caroline the other night. Y’all can read about it here if you missed it. Anyway, Dee and I were catching up on what we did while on vacation and other miscellaneous things, when she says, “You know I’m so glad that K. babysat the other night because we’re going to the orthodontist this week and since she saw you she can’t quit talking about how horrible it would be to be an adult with braces. She just keeps telling me how terrible you look and can’t believe you had to get braces when you were old, so I’m hoping it will make her realize that she needs to do what the orthodontist tells her to do”.

How many insults are in that statement?

It was just the pick me up I needed to kick my New Year’s into gear.

Really, like a ray of sunshine.

In Dee’s defense, she had no clue what was coming out of her mouth and meant no harm. She falls into that category of people that talk so much that they’re bound to say something dumb on a fairly regular basis, so I honestly didn’t take it personally. In fact, I’ve been laughing about it all day.

How nice to be able to serve as a cautionary orthodontia horror tale for pre-teen girls.

And speaking of pre-teen girls, as I was leaving the restaurant I noticed a group of about five cute high school age girls eating a late breakfast on the patio of the restaurant. About that time a Suburban drove slowly through the parking lot and a woman rolled down her window and said “Hi Jessica!” to one of the girls and drove off.

The girls all looked at each other and I overheard one say “Omigosh, was that your MOM?” and the other girl shook her head in disbelief as she reluctantly said, “Yes”. One of the girls said “Oh my mom is always doing stuff like that and I just want to DIE”. As I walked to my car they all continued to commiserate about how “like totally embarrassing” that was and “why would she do that?”

Because like saying hi to your daughter is so wrong and can totally destroy their whole social image…much like adult orthodontia.