Friends

We hit the road

I had the best of intentions of documenting every minute of our road trip, but you know what they say about intentions.

Caroline and I left San Antonio around 11:00 a.m. yesterday morning which was approximately two hours later than my original plan. I blame the cough medicine and the Sudafed. And the fact that I had no idea what to throw in my suitcase because the Texas weather is completely unpredictable.

After two and a half hours in the car, one bad McDonald’s lunch, and introducing Caroline to the musical stylings of Chic performing their hit classic “Freak Out”, we finally arrived at Big and Honey’s house where she was happily reunited with her very best boys.

You don’t want to mess with the Scooter Gang. They are dangerous and have been known to whine profusely once the juice boxes run out.

Later, Honey hid some eggs and presented each of the kids with their very own Easter Baskets. It took them all of two and a half minutes to find every single egg in her backyard. And less time to eat more than half the candy.

They’re not as sweet as they look.

Actually, that’s not true. They are every bit that sweet. And more.

Most of the time.
Dizzying heights of fun

Several of you asked how I achieved the poof on the top of my new drapes. I promise I will do a photo tutorial tomorrow, but at the moment I am suffering from a touch of the vertigo after spending the afternoon at the Rodeo Carnival.

Since the kids were out of school for President’s Day, Gulley and I decided it was the perfect day to take them to the rodeo. It was a little chilly, but the sun was shining so we headed out to the fairgrounds full of hope and optimism.

The kids all agreed that our first stop needed to be the ferris wheel.

That look on Will’s face is what he refers to as his “sweetest smile”.

Gulley and I decided we’d join the kids on the ferris wheel.

Holy Rachel Zoe. Were the stores out of the large sunglasses?

After the ferris wheel we wandered around and let the kids ride a few more rides, including a worm in desperate need of some orthodontia, the bumper cars and the Pirate Ship.

Finally, Gulley and I couldn’t stand it any longer and insisted that it was time to go where all the real carnival magic happens.

We started with corndogs with a side of Texas Twisters, which are homemade potato chips that were gone before I was able to get photographic evidence that they ever existed.

Then I was torn between the turkey leg or the gordita. Ultimately, the gordita won out because there is no gordita like a rodeo gordita.

However, I am sad to report that the gordita was filled with beef fajita meat that had never met any kind of tenderizing treatment. I finally just threw the rest of it out because I felt conspicuous standing in the middle of the fairway re-enacting one of those scenes from Wild Kingdom where a lion is trying to choke down an elephant.

I found some consolation in the arms of a funnel cake.

Anyone who says that food is not love has obviously never enjoyed a funnel cake at the rodeo.

The kids were impatient to get back to the rides, so we headed back in that direction and saw something that stopped us in our tracks.

Chicken fried bacon.

Oh my word.

It’s served fresh from the fryer with a side of coronary bypass.

Oh, and Caroline saw what she referred to as the “Pickle Bird” and wanted to get her picture made with him.

We finally made it back to the rides and Caroline and Jackson announced that they wanted to ride that ride where you ride up to the top and then it drops you and you do a free fall for about ten seconds but it feels like a thousand lifetimes. I can’t remember what it was called but I will henceforth refer to it as the Tower of Doom.

For some reason I decided that it would be fun to join them on the Tower of Doom. After all, I spent most of my childhood summers as a frequent patron of Astroworld where I regularly rode the Dexter Frebish (later renamed the Excalibur, but it will always be the Dexter Frebish to me) and the Cyclone and the Sky Screamer. I laughed in the face of danger. Give me some turkey legs and a Gravitron and get out of my way.

(Seriously, just thinking about the days of yore at Astroworld makes me want to weep because it no longer exists and what kind of childhood will Caroline have if she can’t experience the Alpine Sleigh Ride?)

So we waited in line, let the scary carnival worker belt us into our seats and lower the shoulder harnesses, and then panicked as we began to ascend hundreds of feet into the air only to plummet back to earth. I can still hear the screaming. Mainly because I was the one screaming.

As we got off the ride, Jackson announced he wanted to go again and Caroline looked a little shell-shocked. Me? I was just trying to keep down my corndog.

Because you know what doesn’t really mix as well as it did thirty years ago? Vast amounts of junk food and rides that defy the laws of physics and gravity.

I never really recovered after that. I think it might have given me a case of vertigo.

So Gulley had to take one for the team and ride this swirly, spinny thing with the kids. TWICE.

After a big day of fun, we announced it was time to head home and everyone commenced with the wailing and the whining. Gulley and I were forced to join in the chorus of mothers who were saying “What you ought to be saying is THANK YOU for the great day, Mom, instead of whining about it being time to leave, FIVE HOURS LATER.”

In fact, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I think I pulled out the phrase, “Maybe you should examine your heart”.

But by the time we made it back to the car, they all agreed that a good time was had by all.

Even though it ended too soon.

And I got the vertigo.
Anchors and fireworks and 2009 aweigh

I realize we’re only four days in but so far 2010 is turning out to be a pretty good year. Of course how could I complain about a year that’s already involved two mornings of staying in our pajamas until noon and watching Loony Tunes in bed? And by our pajamas, I mean Caroline and me. P would never stay in his pajamas until noon watching Loony Tunes.

I think he has something against Elmer Fudd. Maybe it’s the goofy hat he wears while hunting wabbits.

Not that P has much room to talk.

Two things make me happy about this picture:

1. Caroline and her friend S. took it after he took them hunting on New Year’s Eve. They assured him that they got the entire deer in the picture.

They lied.

2. Right after the picture was taken, P told me that S asked him, “Mr. P, why do you wear that sailor’s hat when you go hunting?”

She makes an excellent point. P explained to her that it isn’t actually a camo sailor’s hat, but rather a hat that he’s just cinched up to the point that it looks like a sailor’s hat.

I’m not sure that makes it any better.

Speaking of New Year’s Eve, we had a big one. Our good friends invited us and Gulley and her family down to their ranch to ring in the New Year. And since we are never one to turn down a good time with friends in favor of sitting home and doing absolutely nothing, we jumped at the chance to go.

So on Thursday morning, we loaded up P’s truck with all manner of hunting paraphernalia and headed south. We made a few quick stops for Sonic drinks and tots, fireworks, and some type of gasoline cleaner. I’m not sure what that last item has to do with New Year’s Eve fun, but P felt it was essential because the Polaris was acting a little temperamental and the last time it acted funny it ended up slamming itself into a wall while being repaired. In other words, better safe than sorry.

We finally made it to the ranch and spent some time hanging out on the front porch until it was time for the evening hunt. P and Caroline planned to hunt deer and pigs. I planned to hunt for the Pioneer Woman’s olive cheese bread that Gulley brought to the ranch. Viva la difference.

The kids all milled around in the yard until Will and his friend A decided that they were going to go on a hunt by themselves and took off in their very own all-terrain vehicle.

Notice that A has his toy gun resting securely on his lap.

A few minutes later we noticed that not only had they gone out hunting, but they’d managed to get a deer and load it into the Polaris all by themselves. Quite an accomplishment for a couple of four year old boys.

Needless to say, it is quite the trophy. It’s not every day that you hunt down the elusive inflatable deer.

After that, the kids were all inspired to get in a little practice with their BB guns.

Mamas, lock up your turtles.

Then it was time for P to take his two buddies out for the evening hunt.

He wasn’t very optimistic about their prospects since there tends to be a lot of hair flipping and giggling that goes on in this particular little posse of hunters. P just can’t resist the urge to flip his hair and giggle. But they managed to have some success in the form of an eight point buck that wasn’t frightened away by all the giggling.

I’ve known for years that deer aren’t as easily frightened by smells and noise as hunting experts lead you to believe because I performed my own very scientific research one time when P put me in a hunting blind by myself. Those deer weren’t frightened away by the scent of the perfume samples falling out of my InStyle magazine or when I started yelling at them out the window to see if they’d run away. Maybe those hunting experts ought to try that method instead of covering themselves in all sorts of malodorous scents. Maybe those big bucks are more enticed by the scent of Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker.

Something to think about, Cabelas.

After the mighty hunters returned, it was time for the big event. The olive cheese bread.

Oh, and an amateur firework show put on by men who subscribe to the theory that it’s not really a fire unless you’re scared.

The kids could not wait for the show to begin.

But then decided to climb up into the truck tower because who wouldn’t want to be closer to the explosions?

The men began to choose from their arsenal of fireworks. And I do mean arsenal.

I’ve always believed you can’t have enough Stampede Super Bombs.

P was a fan of the big W. He’s also a fan of any opportunity to wear his Cabela’s head lamp.

The kids decided to get in on the action with some sparklers.

And before we knew it, P turned his headlamp back on and prepared for the FINAL ATTACK.

Let’s take a closer look.

Oh my word.

The Chinese manufacturers weren’t playing around when they designed that packaging. What is more frightening than a depiction of a general in a tank on a box of explosives? I mean other than the Christmas tree needles that I’m still finding in my carpet a full week after we took our tree down?

But while the FINAL ATTACK was being readied for launch, our kids made up a fun, new game with their sparklers. A little game called LET’S LIGHT THE GRASS ON FIRE.

Oh, it was hilarious.

If you’re a pyromaniac.

It required that some bigger boots be called into action.

I sat there watching the little firestarters light their fires and laugh maniacally while they stomped them out with their boots and thought that none of this would be happening if they still aired those commercials of that Indian crying one single tear down his cheek.

And then I remembered that the Indian was crying because of all the litter. I had him mixed up with Smokey the Bear who always said, “Give a hoot! Don’t pollute!” But I realized that was Woodsy the Owl. Then I thought about Mr. Yuk who was green and warned kids not to eat poison. And then I decided that I watched a lot of television as a child.

The point is that Smokey always said, “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

Which is totally true.

Fortunately, we weren’t in a forest but rather on a small patch of grass surrounded by gravel roads. They were easily contained. It was completely safe, harmless New Year’s Eve fun for everyone.

Except for maybe that 8 point buck. He probably hadn’t planned on getting shot by a sailor on New Year’s Eve.
A time-honored tradition that involves eating a lot of cheese

For about the last twenty years, Gulley and I have blocked off the first weekend in December for our annual Christmas shopping girls’ weekend. We spend all day Friday and Saturday finishing all our Christmas shopping and then stay up late on Saturday night wrapping all the presents.

Of course twenty years ago we didn’t refer to it as a girls’ weekend because we were nineteen and the weekend pretty much resembled what every day looked like, except substitute buying Christmas presents and wrapping them with buying new outfits for ourselves and flirting with convenience store employees named Al.

But ever since Gulley started us on the motherhood track almost eight years ago, the weekend involves a little more planning and coordination, which basically means P goes hunting and Caroline spends the weekend with Mimi and Bops so that we have my whole house to ourselves and it becomes just like our college apartment but with furniture that isn’t made of plastic and requires self-assembly upon purchase.

Our first stop on Friday morning was Starbucks because as Caroline has taken to saying these days, “DUH. WHY WOULDN’T IT BE?” Armed with our various caffeinated beverages, we headed out to Nordstrom Rack because I’d gotten an email earlier in the week announcing that they were getting in a whole new shipment that day. And it did not disappoint. In fact, we both bought a new coat for ourselves. I didn’t think I’d actually admit that publicly, but we did. We bought ourselves new coats because they were an additional 35% off already INSANELY low prices and it was 33 degrees outside with six flakes of snow and I have never felt like a purchase was more necessary. I feel that what I saved in the cost of potential hypothermia healthcare expenses more than makes up the cost of the coat.

After that we went to TJ Maxx because I was looking for some inexpensive red glass goblets for my china cabinet but there were none to be found, but we did find a few items for some people on our shopping list which was fortunate since that’s really the whole goal of the weekend.

(Well, that and eating lots of chips and queso.)

And then we found ourselves at Target.

We decided to go to this particular Target because we both feel strongly that the Target closer to our homes is completely overshopped. They never have anything good and I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this but it takes four extra minutes to get there and an additional two stoplights.

I’m not really sure that the foreign Target was any better, but we did manage to find quite a few things on the toy aisles and also nearly take someone out with the Rip Stick protruding from the bottom of our cart. I could not be sorrier that I misjudged the width of that aisle.

When we got back in the car, Gulley was able to cross several things off her list. This is a very important part of the process for Gulley. She has a meticulous list that she carries with her every year and painstakingly crosses off each item as it’s completed. However, this year she graduated to a full-on leather bound notebook that she clutched to her chest at all times in a grand display of shopping OCD.

I didn’t have any sort of list because I prefer to just guess at what I need and then get home and feel the agonizing disappointment and frustration of realizing that I didn’t necessarily achieve anything other than buying myself a coat and I’ll have to make another trip to Target when my love for humanity is already perilously close to expiring. And yet I mock Gulley and her Journal Of Christmas Accomplishments.

On Saturday, I thought we were going to hit a few stores and then go to the mall, but instead we apparently traveled back in time to 1983 because we saw this:

Denim. Puffy. Vest.

The only thing that would make it more wrong, if that’s even possible, is if it came with sleeves that zip on and off. Gap, I have seen the face of ugly and it is this vest. You should not design and sell clothing based on what was in my Big Bob’s closet back in 1978.

Then we saw this:

“Monchhichi Monchhici, oh so soft and cuddly. With his thumb in his mouth he’s really sweet. It’s fun to play with his little feet.”

Sure, I can remember that but can’t remember that we’re out of dog food when I went to the grocery store specifically to buy dog food. Perhaps it would be helpful if I’d carry a leather-bound notebook full of lists.

However, I’m a little sad I didn’t grab that Monchhichi because, not only does he make me recall catchy commercials from the recesses of my brain, a bit of bad news hit the wire this weekend.

(Who am I? Wolf Blitzer? Hit the wire?)

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it looks like Mr. Squiggles may have have the Faux Hamster Flu according to some consumer group and Santa may need a backup plan if there’s a big joy-killing recall about to take place.

I always thought that Mr. Squiggles was bad news. Here’s hoping that he keeps whatever funk he has to himself and doesn’t spread it Num Nums or Chunk, especially since I was DELIGHTED BEYOND ALL NORMAL REASON to discover that instead of the lame faux hamster exercise wheel that I thought I purchased at Walmart a few weeks ago, I actually purchased the garage and little hamster car.

I’ll just be sick if Chunk isn’t well enough to drive around the living room on Christmas morning.
Sometimes life is full of rainbows and bad cotton candy

I had to drag Caroline out of bed yesterday morning and when I finally got her in the kitchen she informed me she was too tired to go to school. And I knew just how she felt because I would have loved nothing more than for us to get back under the covers and spend the entire day in our pajamas. However, I know her well enough to know that the tiredness would wear off eventually and she’d begin demanding things like food and forms of entertainment more involved than watching Phineas and Ferb. So I drove her to school.

The weekend was exhausting. P was hunting and I discovered that being the head soccer coach is much harder than it looks. There are just so many times that you can yell “THAT’S NOT OUR GOAL! KICK IT THE OTHER DIRECTION! KICK IT THE OTHER WAY!” before you’re ready to pop a Valium and call it a game.

Normally P handles most of the coaching responsibilities and I serve as what I have come to believe is a crucial element of the game, the sideline hostess. I open Gatorades, hand out snack items, take out earrings that have come loose, and fix ponytails. Occasionally I’ll pipe up with a rousing “Come on Rainbows! Follow the ball! Get the ball!” but then I go back to sorting grapes in preparation for half time.

But this week I was on my own. I recruited Bops to serve as sideline hostess but he’s not one to sit around and serve Gatorade while there is any type of competitive sport being played, although in terms of this game I’m using the words “competitive” and “sport” very loosely, so he helped me yell out helpful strategies from the sidelines such as “YOU HAVE TO KICK THE BALL!”

We only had five players which left us with just one substitute. By the second half the girls were all exhausted. One of them begin complaining that her leg hurt so I pulled her out. Then about that time Caroline fell and scraped her knee. Both of them were on the sidelines and neither wanted to go in so I launched into a passionate lecture about MENTAL TOUGHNESS while they searched the cooler for any remaining bottles of blue Gatorade.

When the game mercifully ended, I gathered the team around to give them a little inspirational pep talk and let them know how much I appreciated their efforts. I was halfway through my impassioned speech when one of the little girls looked at me and asked, “Where’s that guy that’s usually here?”

I think it’s safe to say that P and I made a lasting impression on the mighty Rainbows.

On the way home I drove through a Mexican restaurant (I didn’t actually drive through a restaurant although I would have been totally capable of it at that moment. To clarify, I went to a Mexican restaurant with a drive-through) and ordered some self-medication in the form of two breakfast tacos with beans, egg and bacon and extra green chile sauce. If you haven’t ever tried that combination then I feel bad for you. I first discovered it at La Popular (emphasis on lar) Bakery in Pearsall, Texas back in 1996 and my life has never been the same. Colors are brighter.

Caroline and I spent the next two hours lying on the couch until it was time for Jackson and Will to show up. Gulley and her husband had to drive to Dallas and back for a funeral on Saturday and since you never hear anyone say, “You know what’s a great time? A ten hour roundtrip road trip with two kids to attend a funeral!” I offered to keep the boys. They spent the morning with some other friends since they had soccer and football games, but came to my house around lunchtime.

I talked to Gulley a little after lunch and informed her that everyone was pretty tired. I believe my exact words where “I’m not sure if Caroline and Brother (Will) are going to be loving or hating today”. Because that’s what those two do. They are either in love or uninviting each other to their birthday parties. There’s no in between which is why we will forbid them from ever dating because the drama would kill us all.

But we made it through the day with only a fair amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Late in the afternoon I told them we could go out to eat for dinner. When we arrived at the restaurant I told them we could sit outside. Will asked me if he could please sit at a table by himself and since we were the only ones there enjoying a 5:15 dinner on a Saturday night, I told him he was welcome to sit by himself.

So he did.

Will is his own person and every now and then he likes to be a loner. A rebel. A renegade on the loose with his orange Fanta.

Meanwhile, Jackson and Caroline were eating their dinner and contemplating the merits of an EZ’s milkshake for dessert vs. candy from the video store.

Sidenote: Caroline’s necklace is an original Caroline design made exclusively with the finest plastic beads that Target has to offer.

Ultimately, they all decided on candy from the video store. Will and Caroline insisted that they wanted that compressed synthetic cotton candy in a foil bag, but young Jackson chose wisely and picked Sweet Tarts. Once we arrived back at the house I got them all bathed and in their pjs, then they piled up in my bed with their cavities in a bag.

After a few minutes Will and Caroline regretted their cotton candy purchase (just like I warned them they would) and wanted to horn in on Jackson’s Sweet Tarts. I told them that Jackson made the better choice and they needed to live with their decision.

So I guess the theme for the day was MENTAL TOUGHNESS.

And I also may have slipped them each a few Gummie Sours LifeSavers because when it comes to choosing the wrong candy, mental toughness can be overrated.

Make sure to read Kelly’s post from today about their first visit to a Compassion Project in El Salvador. And don’t miss Keely’s amazing photos. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow it just means I’m on my way to El Salvador to see about adopting one of those beautiful faces.
Gone with the wind or Darth Vader or a pirate

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

A pirate, Darth Vader and a Southern Belle walk into a bar…

I’m not really going anywhere with that but I kept looking at those three on Saturday afternoon and thinking they seemed like a punchline to a joke. It’s not every day that you see such an odd assortment of characters unless it’s time to visit the DMV and renew your drivers’ license.

One of the many reasons we decided to head to College Station for the weekend, other than to visit Honey and Big and avoid vegetable casseroles, was to attend a Diamond Darling reunion. We decided to skip the Friday night dinner, but thought the kids might enjoy going to the baseball field on Saturday for an alumni baseball game. In theory, we’d love to take them to a football game but the tickets are way too pricey for a crew that may decide they’re ready to bail once the $15.00 bucket of popcorn runs out.

Here are Caroline and Jackson at Olsen Field.

Gulley and I laughed after our road trip this summer because we had all these pictures of Caroline and Jackson together and then pictures of Will by himself. Sometimes it was because he was looking for his shoes or in the bathroom, but mostly it’s because he can’t be bothered to pose for pictures. A pirate needs to be free.

But I caught him this time.

Granted, he’s not looking at the camera but I’m going to consider this a W.

The kids had a great time and even got to play baseball with some of the current Aggie baseball players and that pretty much made their life. Well, except for Will. He was off picking up stray baseballs and warning kids that if you walked all the way to the top of the bleachers “you might die”. He’s a fan of the alarming statement.

Here’s Jackson getting ready for a power hit.

And Caroline going for a bunt.

I don’t think she was actually trying to bunt, but it looks really impressive.

After a few hours we headed home from the game but had to make a quick trip to Sonic because, well, it’s Sonic and Gulley and I were in need of some caffeine to help us gear up for the next activity on our agenda.

When Nena heard we were coming to town, she requested that all the kids bring their Halloween costumes and come trick or treat at her house a week early. And, not only that, she called one of her neighbors and Uncle Johnny and told them they needed to have candy for the kids.

So we got everyone into costume and began to take pictures of the odd little trio, but first we had to find the little pirate.

And we have a winner.

They are full-service trick or treaters and believe in the value of a little performance theater to go along with all the begging for candy. It also helped that they were all jacked up on about eight Tootsie Rolls courtesy of Uncle Johnny.

This pretty much sums up their haul

What she doesn’t know is that I’m going to recycle about half of that on Saturday night.

After all the trick or treat fun, we changed their clothes and went to Wings ‘N More for dinner. Normally I’m not a fan of eating establishments that use a ‘N in their title, but I make an exception for Wings ‘N More because it is just so good. I always forgo the wings in favor of a chicken fried steak because OH MY WORD at the delicious and the kids discovered the culinary wonder that is fried pickles. The sad part is that my sodium intake on Saturday night was so great that I couldn’t get my wedding ring on the next day until I drank two bottles of water. I should be embarrassed to admit that but I’m just going to throw it out there so you can realize the depth of my love for the chicken fried steak.

The next morning every one was sad to pack up and leave but it had to be done. Gulley and I loaded up the car and I made sure my wedding ring was secure in the zipper pocket of my purse before we said our goodbyes. Caroline declared that it was “the saddest day” of her entire life and she was “going to cry myself to sleep all the way home”.

I knew I wouldn’t get that lucky.

Instead she chose to take out her sadness in the form of extended whining over the fact that Will was humming a song quietly to himself and it was annoying her. And then Will, sensing his power, continued to hum quietly to himself while staring directly at her.

It was at this point that I dispensed the first of many pieces of wisdom that would be given throughout the duration of this road trip. “It’s all fun and games until all that whining means we don’t get to stop for a DQ Blizzard in Bastrop”.

That statement caused an instant reconciliation amongst the back seat and Gulley and I got caught up in our own in depth conversation wherein I uttered the profound statement that “people want to think the grass is greener on the other side, but you know what’s over there? MORE GRASS”.

In fact, “It’s Just More Grass” may be the title of the self-help book that I’ll never actually write.

But my personal favorite words of wisdom came from Gulley during the last thirty minutes of the trip when she broke up a back seat scuffle by declaring “When you lick the person sitting next to you, there’s a good chance you’re going to get punched”.

I believe the only reason that gem is missing from the book of Proverbs is because Solomon obviously never traveled with three kids in the back of his chariot.