Another day

Last week was a little rough around here. I’m going to blame it on a combination of being busy and detoxing Caroline after a week of being sick and being waited on hand and foot.

Her reentry into the real world was a little taxing. On both of us.

But by Friday morning she seemed to be back to her old self. She woke up in a good mood and asked, “Mama? Do you still think I’m tired from being sick last week?”

I answered, “Well, you might still be a little tired.”

At which point her head spun around and she growled, “I AM NOT TIRED AT ALL ANYMORE”.

Well. Okay then.

So I sent Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm off to school and I spent the rest of the day doing laundry and cleaning up around the house so I wouldn’t have to spend the weekend doing laundry and cleaning up around the house. I have lofty goals for my weekends these days.

But I also knew we were going to be busy because Caroline had her first soccer game of the season on Saturday morning and her last basketball game of the season on Saturday afternoon. And I had big plans to take a nap somewhere in between those two events.

See? Lofty goals.

Naturally I was thrilled that a cold front blew through on Friday night and our soccer game was 9:15 Saturday morning when the wind chill was somewhere in the vicinity of 36 below zero. Which might be an exaggeration but that’s how it feels when you get used to the temperature being in the 80s and then it suddenly remembers it’s winter and bottoms out with gusty north winds.

But I huddled out on the bleachers with the other parents as we tried to remind ourselves we might miss this weather when we’re sitting out in 106 degree heat during the last games of the season. The grass is always greener on the other side of the thermometer.

We got home after the game and I nearly headed straight for the couch, but then decided instead to go vacuum out my car and get it washed. I have no explanation for this sudden burst of productivity.

Then I picked up lunch for us and brought it back to the house. By the time all this was over there wasn’t any time for my anticipated nap. I was so disappointed. I plan to do better to achieve my goals in the future. I believe it was Maya Angelou who said “When you know better, you do better”.

Next time, I will do better.

Especially when you consider that I wasted countless minutes vacuuming out a car whose regular backseat occupant apparently feels the need to stick every piece of trash she comes across between the seats. We could have lived for days off the peppermints from Sonic alone.

So we went to our last basketball game. Which I’m sad to say we lost after a season of being undefeated. But considering all the girls had already played a soccer game that morning, it was understandable that their energy was a little low. I mean, I was tired from just vacuuming out my car and sitting in the bleachers at two different sporting events.

There was a quick medal ceremony/cupcake party (Just like the Olympics!) after the game and then we went home to rest before we went to dinner with friends that night. Caroline and I were relaxing on the couch watching Parent Trap (the Lindsay Lohan version that always makes me sad at how cute she used to be) when she suddenly looked up at me and said, “Mama? I see that you’re starting to get some old lady marks on your face.”

And so I felt like the least I could do was help her back her bags before I showed her to the door.

I wanted to tell her that some of those old lady marks were probably exacerbated from sitting in the bone-chilling, dry north wind to watch her play soccer at 9:15 on a Saturday morning.

Later that afternoon I was blow-drying my hair and it insisted on doing some weird cowlick part thing. It’s never done this before. I didn’t understand. And then I looked closer and saw that it was parting in a way that perfectly showcased a new crop of gray hairs.

Between my old lady marks and that display, I’m feeling super great about myself.

So I spent the rest of the weekend asking for referrals for a good hair colorist who can make my hair the glossy, silky color of J.Lo’s but won’t charge me more than $50.

Not really.

I mean, yes really about wanting to find a great hair color person that can perform a miracle on my hair, but that’s not all I did the rest of the weekend.

We had dinner with friends on Saturday night and then went to church on Sunday morning. AND, we actually got there one minutes and thirty-seven seconds early which has never happened in the history of ever. We usually prefer to walk in ten minutes late and make the walk of shame down the aisle because P likes to sit in the second row. But, IN OUR DEFENSE, there has been a lot of construction around the church lately. It’s not all because someone can’t decide on a pair of earrings or a child who determines her shoes are “sprunchy” right before we walk out the door.

Sunday was a gorgeous day, but Caroline was tired (See? I was right.) and came home from church, took a bath and put on her pajamas. At 12:15. But she rebounded later and we spent some time playing outside and enjoying the sunshine.

On a related note, did you realize that next week is Daylight Savings Time? Me neither.

I’m just glad that we’ll be on Spring Break because Monday morning comes soon enough without losing an hour on Sunday.

Which reminds me that I probably need to go to bed.

As hard as it was to read some of the prayer requests yesterday, I was so glad that y’all shared them. I spent some time praying for each one of you. I’ve never really done that before because, honestly, sometimes it’s just hard to know about all the hard things happening in people’s lives, but I think it’s a something I’m going to start doing from time to time because there is nothing that brings peace like knowing people are praying for you.

Not to mention that it totally fits into my resolve to quit living in fear of all the what-ifs.

So, just know I’m praying for all those requests. For peace. For resolution. For strength.

I should also maybe pray that my days get a little more interesting because I am sitting here trying to figure out how to make a day spent running errands sound remotely exciting.

Yesterday morning I went up to Caroline’s school because she was doing the announcements. They do them like it’s a news broadcast so she was with a group of her classmates. And so I went to her classroom to watch on the big screen. I probably frightened a few children because I don’t believe in putting on makeup before 7:30 a.m. unless it’s under extreme circumstances.

But I felt like I got away with it because I put on my yoga pants and an Adidas t-shirt like I was leaving for an imminent workout. The truth was I waited until Caroline came back to class to tell her she did a great job and then went to Starbucks.

For many, MANY, months, Starbucks has been like my own little writing office. However, I’m kind of at a lull with the book right now (similar to the eye of a hurricane) but I’m in the habit of going to Starbucks at least three times a week. Basically I’m a step away from becoming the old retired guy I see there every morning who walks in, drags a chair from the nearest table to use as a makeshift ottoman as he sits in a comfy chair, drinks his coffee and reads three different newspapers cover to cover.

The only thing that differentiates the two of us at this point is I still don’t feel comfortable enough to wear my house shoes to Starbucks.

After a couple of hours there, I left to drive to the Volvo dealership because the dashboard of my car has been screaming for weeks that I have MULTIPLE BULB FAILURES. Not just one bulb failure. MULTIPLE. And I’ve realized that part of the multiple includes my left blinker. I wasn’t that concerned when I thought it was just a taillight, but when your front left blinker is out you become that annoying driver that never signals when you’re about to turn and no one knows what to do and chaos ensues.

So I went to see if they could help me with my multiple bulb failures and they can. On Tuesday. Which means I get to have five more days of being THAT person.

I drove from there to Target because I bought Caroline a t-shirt a few weeks back that she deemed unacceptable. It was pink. With hot pink hearts. What was I thinking? It was clearly offensive.

Speaking of, Caroline told me last night at dinner about a situation at school. And I told her that I thought what she was feeling was a little bit of jealousy and that was perfectly normal. She looked at me and said, “THAT IS SO OFFENDING. IT’S NOT JEALOUSY”. I apologized for being “offending” because she is teetering on the emotional edge these days and I wasn’t really up for a meltdown. Does anyone know if eight is the new thirteen? Because sometimes it feels like the new thirteen.

Anyway, I walked around Target and tried on some colored skinny jeans that were only $22. I really wanted them to work but they fit more like leggings and the waistband didn’t even cover my bottom while I was standing up. So who knows what fresh horror would be unleashed if I actually tried to bend over in them.

Then I meandered through the shoe department and found some gorgeous platform leopard print heels that don’t go with my life at all. Not to mention that I’d probably want to cut my feet off with a plastic knife if I wore them for more than five minutes at a time. They are more of a sitting shoe.

So I left the shoe department and looked at the Easter stuff and eventually made my way to small electronics where I debated buying a new blender because I’m on a huge smoothie kick right now and our blender is about the worst blender in the history of blending. You can’t even turn it on and off. I just have to unplug it and plug it back in. It’s a tedious process at best. But the smoothies make me feel so healthy and so I LABOR INTENSIVELY over the blender each morning.

I nearly bought a blender called The Ninja because, well, it was called The Ninja. But I couldn’t commit and hated to make a wrong blending decision. And after all that, I ended up leaving Target with just one thing.

A book.

I bought The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks because I’ve heard it’s good even though it appears to be about science and medicine. Two subjects I try to avoid. Which is ironic considering I used to sell pharmaceuticals.

But the point is that I spent an hour in Target and only spent $13.87.

It was a Target miracle.

And to celebrate, I stopped at Sonic and bought myself a large Diet Coke.

That was my day.

I can’t apologize enough for all the lameness contained therein.

Today is one of those days where I feel like I have a whole lot of things to tell y’all, but there is no way I’m going to format those things in anything other than a comprehensive list.

So here we go.

1. I can’t thank y’all enough for your prayers for Nena. She came through the surgery beautifully and they said they’ll have her up and walking by tomorrow. Which, quite frankly, I find amazing.

And while she hasn’t felt well enough to tell Gulley that she needs to throw her jeans in the trash, she did tell them that she woke up during surgery and thought she was at the beauty parlor.

Oh. I just got another update. She told Gulley to buy yellow or turquoise jeans for summer. I think she’s going to be fine.

2. Several of you have asked for an update on Jen. She starts chemo on Friday. Would so appreciate any prayers sent her way.

3. On a non-health crisis note, I received an early copy of Ree’s new cookbook in the mail last week and have already turned down about sixty-four pages of things I want to cook. I didn’t know that I could love a cookbook more than her first one, but I think I might love this one more. True story.

You can pre-order a copy right here.

4. Cathy, at Desperately Seeking WordPress, recently did a little makeover on my blog. Nothing to major, but just a little color change and making it a little neater. And, as usual, she had to endure 184 emails from me with things like “Maybe a grayish-yellow, but not too gray or yellow!” and “Maybe a pink, but not a pinky-pink”.

God bless her. She is great at her job.

Anyway, in the course of all those emails, she told me about a new conference called Refine. It’s September 20-21 in Bloomington, Minnesota and its mission statement is “Come as you are, take your next steps with purpose”.

You can find out more about it here.

5. Speaking of conferences, LifeWay has a new event this year called Abundant. The first one is in Houston on March 23-24 at Champion Forest Baptist Church and will feature Kelly Minter, Lisa Harper, Jen Hatmaker, Angela Thomas, Tammie Head, Jennifer Rothschild speaking and Travis Cottrell and CeCe Winans leading worship.

I believe that’s what you call an unbelievable lineup. I’m planning to be there because why would I want to miss that when it’s within driving distance? You can find out more and register right here.

6. A few of you have asked about my thoughts on The Bachelor this season. And I’ll be honest. I quit watching it about three weeks ago. I just couldn’t take it. My word at the boring.

I’m sure they may all be lovely people in real life but they made for remarkably unwatchable television.

Or maybe I just am a T.V. snob now that I record Masterpiece Theater on my DVR.

7. I’ll tell you what I am watching though, Bethenny Ever After. It may be my favorite reality show of all time. And I realize that’s a bold statement, but I really watch it and think I WANT TO BE HER FRIEND.

P just rolled his eyes at the computer.

8. If you haven’t tried Tostitos Artisan Roasted Garlic and Black Bean chips, then you’re life may not be complete. Tostitos didn’t ask me to say that. It was just in my heart.

9. So I’m still on my healthy eating kick. Even though I have allowed a few Hershey Miniatures into my diet because man cannot live by kale alone.

But I was craving mac and cheese the other day and found this recipe for Skinny Baked Broccoli Macaroni and Cheese. I figured it was better than nothing.

10. Yesterday in the comments a reader named Pam asked if we’d pray for her daughter who was having surgery. And I thought that I would love to know if there is anyone else out there that needs prayer for anything. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know.

Wow. Ten things. I had no idea I had that many things to address.

Y’all have a happy leap day.

And you know what? It was actually really good.

I thought for sure I was getting sick on Thursday night. I could feel my throat becoming increasingly sore and my head was starting to hurt. But then after a cup of coffee on Friday morning, I felt pretty normal and decided I had nothing more than a bad case of hypochondria mixed with a touch of paranoia.

So I called Mimi and Bops to see if they could come over and watch Caroline for a little while because I had made the huge misstep of deleting my entire iTunes library and our personal email account. Yes, the phrase you are looking for is FREAKING THE HECK OUT.

Fortunately the deleted files were still in the trash and I felt like they could be restored by someone much wiser and younger than me. Someone hip enough to wear one of those big plastic circle things in their ear lobe. So I made a trip to the Genius Bar at the Apple store and it took the junior high kid that works there all of three minutes to fix it and restore everything to its rightful place.

(I could tell you how I deleted all those files in the first place but I’m still not totally sure what happened.)

(I do know that I blacked out when I realized the implications of what I’d just done.)

(This also seems like a good time to tell you that I felt the need to clean up my Mac before I took it into the store to get healed and that’s how I discovered there was melted chocolate on the bottom of it. Chocolate that had been there long enough to melt and then solidify. Classy.)

Anyway, Caroline requested that I bring her home a double chocolatey chip frappuccino from Starbucks on my way home and it seemed to be the missing piece in her road back to health. Because after she drank it she became her usual self. The twinkle was back in her eye and she spent the next few hours expending all the energy she hadn’t been well enough to burn during her bout with strep.

But here’s what I really want to talk about. And it’s going to be controversial. Some of you, nay, MANY OF YOU, are going to disagree with me.

On Saturday night I watched the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love with Steve Carrell and Ryan Gosling. I mean, I didn’t watch it with them, they starred in it. I just want to clear that up in case any of you might mistakenly believe I spent my Saturday night in any more glamorous fashion than with a purifying mask on my face while I watched a rented movie on my laptop.

The point is that I really liked the movie. That darling Emma Stone is in it and I just think she is cute as a button. (Wow. Pretty sure I just channeled someone’s grandmother with that sentence.) It made me laugh out loud and it made me cry a little and that is, in my opinion, the sign of a really good movie.

But here’s what threw me off. I have long declared that I don’t get the appeal of Ryan Gosling. I don’t need him to tell me, “Hey Girl, I’m really glad you decided to stay on Pinterest all day and order Chinese takeout for dinner.”

I realize he made women everywhere swoon in The Notebook, but I kind of thought he just looked like he needed a shower and a shave. And I wished he’d quit moping around feeling sorry for himself. Personally, I would have stayed with James Marsden. He was a soldier, appeared to have a good job and seemed to be a really nice guy.

I guess it all worked out though because Ryan Gosling grew up to be James Garner and he read to Gena Rowlands all day long in the nursing home until she remembered the story was about them. And then they danced. And then they died together. And maybe James Marsden wouldn’t have done that. Maybe James Marsden would have grown up to be Christopher Walken and would have left Gena Rowlands all by herself.

Maybe I’m thinking too much about this.

Maybe I need a hobby.

Anyway, my opinion on all this has always been a sign to me that I’m not twenty years old anymore. Because I totally went for the sensible choice. I would choose the good guy over the brooding loner. I didn’t understand the appeal of Ryan Gosling.

Then I watched Crazy, Stupid, Love and I kind of get it now. Ryan Gosling is a handsome guy. There’s no question about it. He seriously does look like he’s photoshopped. (That’s a line in the movie in case you haven’t seen it.)

But he still doesn’t really appeal to me. And I figured out why. He’s too pretty. It looks like we might wear the same size jeans. It appears he might have more hair products in his bathroom cabinet than I do.

And I prefer a man to look like a man. To be a little rough around the edges. To look like he could change a tire or dig a ditch if he had to. Not a man who looks like he could help me pick out just the right pair of skinny jeans to flatter my figure or show me a better way to put on my eyeliner.

Which explains why I’m married to a man who organizes his closet by new Columbia fishing shirts and old Columbia fishing shirts and has been known to order new pants for $10 from a catalog called Cheaper Than Dirt.

Apparently I have a type. And that type is low-maintenance.

So I’m curious. Am I alone? Is this just because I’ve lived my entire life in Texas? Or can you keep a straight face when you see a man wearing skinny jeans?

So this weekend is the beginning of rodeo time in San Antonio. And I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty excited about the whole thing. Sure, some of my excitement is due to all the fun Caroline will have watching the rodeo clowns and bull-riding, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that a large portion of it is because I know I have one or seven delicious corn dogs in my near future.

With a funnel cake for dessert.

And maybe a gordita or some Texas tornado chips as an appetizer.

But even in the midst of all my culinary anticipation (ROASTED CORN ON A STICK!) I realized yesterday morning that Caroline has outgrown all her western wear. And a girl can’t be expected to go to the rodeo without a shirt with some pearl snap buttons.

It’s like a constitutional right.

I mentioned over breakfast that I might head to Cavenders and buy her a new shirt for the rodeo. And Caroline said, “Oh! I want to go with you and pick it out.”

Here’s the thing. There was a time when I was bright-eyed and optimistic (like last week) when I would have waited to pick her up from school and taken her to Cavenders with me to peruse the shirts. But I began to think about the inventory of shirts at Cavenders and how some of them are, well, how do I say this?

Tacky.

That’s right.

And I knew Caroline would inevitably fall in love with a shirt that would make Cher say “Wow. That is over the top” and also maybe ask, “Do you believe in life after love?”

(I don’t think she’d really ask if I believed in life after love. But that’s where my mind went after I said Cher and now I can’t get that song out of my head.)

I just knew that it would end up being a battle in Cavenders and, frankly, I just don’t have the strength. And I certainly don’t have the strength at 3:30 in the afternoon when I know I still have to face homework and a long soliloquy about the unfairness of life and I don’t even have the promise of a baked potato filled with cheese and butter to help me through the night.

Just the other day a friend of mine brought a few bags of clothes over that her daughter had outgrown. Caroline and I went through the bags and I told her to only keep the things she would actually wear and we could do something else with the other stuff. She began to pull things out and loved all the sweatshirts and some purple skinny jeans, but then she pulled out this darling, DARLING, striped dress and announced, “No. DEFINITELY NOT THIS.”

“Really? But it’s so cute. I would love to have a dress like that.”

And she looked right at me and said, “Mom, let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

Okay then.

And so really I just took her words to heart when I decided to go to Cavenders by myself. I picked out four shirts that I thought she might like and ignored the ones with iridescent purple horseshoes and fringe. I made sure that I could return the shirts she didn’t want, threw in a bedazzled belt for good measure and made my way home.

You know what? She was thrilled with her new shirt. Granted, she wasn’t a fan of two out of the four I chose (PLAID? Why would I want a PLAID shirt?) , but she loved the other two and the belt that would make Liberace weep with envy is a little much but she has already declared it her FAVORITE THING EVER and wore it over her nightgown until she went to bed.

I don’t know when I’ve felt such a thrill of victory.

And I didn’t even have to take a Xanax.

(Although I would eat the heck out of a baked potato if you put one in front of me right now. Not because I’m stressed but because IT’S A POTATO.)

The thing is it’s not her fault that it’s become so hard to shop with her. She has 50% of my DNA. Which means she has to look at and overanalyze everything in the store and envision every possible combination of outfits.

And she has 50% of P’s DNA. Which translates to being hard headed and stubborn. And possessing an innate desire to wear a lot of clothing that comes from Academy.

In fact, P decided he needed new jeans and pants last Friday. So after Caroline’s basketball game we went to Old Navy. On a Saturday. To shop for P.

That’s a hat trick of misery.

I knew we were in trouble when I began handing him various types of jeans and pants to try on and he asked, “Why do I need to try all these on? Can’t we just buy what we need in my size and leave?”

It’s hard to explain the unpredictable sizing of Old Navy to someone who only shops once every three years and only then because all his jeans have “shrunk”.

Yes, because when you hit your forties, clothes tend to “shrink” at an alarming rate.

But he put his game face on and tried on all the different incarnations of Old Navy jeans. I can’t tell you how tempted I was to slip in a pair of skinny jeans just to see what he’d do, but decided there was no reason to subject everyone in the dressing room to profanity.

Finally we walked up to the cash register with two new pairs of jeans and two pairs of khaki pants. And I have never felt more certain that people have had gum surgeries that were less painful than the last thirty minutes I’d just spent sitting outside that dressing room.

Which is why I’ve pretty much decided I’m only shopping for myself from now on. The rest of these people can head to Academy without me and buy all the Magellan shirts and Nike running shorts their hearts’ desire.

Because I’m not going to make this harder than it has to be.