Another day

Speaking of emergency, I’m in need of some pork tamales

I’m trying not to think about the fact that I have a scratchy, sore throat which I feel certain will develop into a full blown cold within the next 24 hours. I am also trying not to think about the fact that someone found my blog today by searching for a Spongebob Bra in a size 34A.

I’m not sure why anyone would want to wear a bra that depicts a big yellow sponge wearing pants.

Perhaps that was Victoria’s real secret.

So, here’s what I found hilarious yesterday. Y’all got so tickled over P and his emergency hunting trip, but you need to know that when I wrote that sentence I was in no way trying to be funny. I truly believed he had left on an emergency trip to go hunting.

Which tells me that we have been together for a long time and he has completely brainwashed me, because ten years ago the only emergency hunting trip I could have envisioned was a trip to the mall to find the right pair of shoes for a new outfit.

The sad thing is what qualified this trip as an emergency wasn’t that we needed provisions in the form of venison to get us through the not-very-cold Texas winter. I can always just run to HEB and pick up some ground chuck. The emergency was that a cold front had blown through, which means the deer are actually moving, therefore creating prime hunting conditions.

And there’s a sentence I would have never written eleven years ago.

So, P had to head down to South Texas.

Due to a cold front emergency.

And yes, he brought home a deer so we will, indeed, have food to get us through the long, mild winter.

Crisis averted.

The other question that came up was the Bible study that I am currently working on. My fabulous group of Bible study girls (l should probably say ladies, but that sounds a little Kenny Rogers-ish to me) just completed “A Woman’s Heart: God’s Dwelling Place” by Beth Moore.

And while I have never had the privilege of meeting Beth Moore in person, I feel certain she would understand that I had to bring my daughter, toting guns and jewelry, to a Bible study, while my husband was away on an emergency hunting trip. Because I’m willing to bet that her husband has also left on the occasional emergency hunting trip.

Anyway, we finished our study of the tabernacle and are planning on doing “Believing God” starting in January.

In other news, Gulley and I had lunch with AJ yesterday because she is moving to Dallas today. And I really can’t get into that because, while I am so happy for her, I’m so sad to see her go. I even shed a few tears much to her sheer horror at my display of emotion.

We let AJ pick the restaurant since it was her farewell lunch and she picked a restaurant that serves healthy Mexican food. I AM NOT KIDDING. The menu even said “WE DON’T USE LARD”.

As if it were a source of pride.

Gulley and I scanned the menu, wondering aloud what various things would taste like without the flavor…I mean, the lard. I finally decided on the bean and cheese nachos made with non-refried pinto beans (TASTY!) and fat-free cheese (DELICIOUS!).

Gulley ordered the tamales and the waiter asked, “What kind?”

She asked, “What kind do you have?”

“Non-refried bean, chicken, vegetarian, tofu…”

“Yeah, I’ll just have the chicken fajitas.”

Which, apparently, translated to “just dry the heck out of a chicken breast and bring it out on a plate with some non-refried beans”.

But, seriously, tofu tamales?

Tamales should be pork or beef. With a side helping of lard.

The lard is why Americans have stolen Mexican food from Mexico.

What kind of sick world are we living in when people are eating tofu tamales and wearing Spongebob lingerie?

And, hopefully, not at the same time.
My child appears to have caught whatever was ailing the blog

Hey. Look what’s back up and running.

Boomama and I spent the better part of the day yesterday testing various html codes, css, and quadratic equations until we got it fixed.

Or maybe we just sent about 100 emails out to Laura, who designed this template, saying “HELP! THE BLOG HAS FALLEN AND IT CAN’T GET UP!”

I can’t really remember exactly how it happened. But, needless to say, the aqua has left the building.

My blog template once was lost, but now is found.

Hallelujah.

And I’d like to give a huge shout out to my Bible study girls who offered to put my html issues on our list of prayer requests. We prayed for healing and restoration for Bigmama1. Not even two hours later, the blog has been completely healed.

Such is the power of prayer by Godly women.

But in other less fortunate news, I have spent the last thirty minutes in a hot, steamy bathroom in an attempt to get Caroline’s airways to relax so that she can quit coughing.

It was unfortunate that I was wearing flannel pajama pants and a Christmas Formal ’92 sweatshirt at the time because now I will have to go stick my head in the freezer for the next eight hours if I have any hope of cooling down in the next five years.

However, Caroline has finally, mercifully, gone to sleep. Bless her little croupy heart.

And with that said, I’m out of here. It may be a long night filled with more steam and humidity.

Which may cause me to have flashbacks to ‘Nam.
Random with all the randomness

I think it’s finally happened, I have nothing to say.

Well, except this.

1. Many of y’all asked the color of my Victoria’s Secret robe. Mine is the aqua blue with the white heart on the back. I chose it by a very deliberate process I like to call THE ONLY ONE LEFT.

However, given the relationship my robe and I share, it is very appropriate that it has a heart on it.

Because I heart my robe.

Although, I would love to have another one in the hot pink with white polka-dots because SASSY.

2. Yesterday afternoon we were decorating the Christmas tree which, by the way, has a mass of ornaments in the section reserved for decorators that are under 3 1/2 feet tall.

Caroline was singing a song quietly to herself so I listened carefully and this is what she was singing, “Simon at night, Simon at night, all is calm, all is bright…”

So either she’s trying to sing Silent Night or just about some boy named Simon. Either way, FESTIVE.

3. Gulley has officially opened season on The Sugar Cookie. I ate 456 of them over the weekend.

And I don’t regret that decision AT ALL.

In fact, I would eat another plate of them if you put them in front of me right now.

4. Here’s a question for you. Nutcrackers? Fan or not a fan?

I personally find them a little creepy, however, Caroline loves them. I do not want my Nutcracker issues to spill over into my daughter’s life, so we have two of them in our Christmas decor.

5. I don’t know. I just hated to end with 4.

Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow with some coherent thoughts.
To pee or not to pee that is the question

I haven’t brought up the fact that the day after Thanksgiving I woke up with a delightful urinary tract infection. I realize this may be crossing the line of too much information, however, it is relevant to the story. If it weren’t, I can assure y’all that I would never just share random information about my bladder. Because EWWW.

Anyway, Caroline did indeed spend the night of The Holiday of the Turkey with Mimi and Bops. I cannot tell y’all how excited I was to sleep in late on Friday morning and, really, if you have kids you know exactly how excited I was. However, I made two crucial errors that cost me my valuable morning of sleeping in.

1. I forgot to put the bark collar on our dog Scout. If Scout doesn’t have his bark collar on at night then he feels the need to bark at very ominous, scary things such as a leaf falling from a tree. I was rudely awakened about 4 a.m. by Scout barking wildly to let us know that somewhere a blade of grass just blew in the wind.

2. I ate too much chocolate and various spicy foods and decided to not drink any water all day long. After all, drinking water might cause me to not eat as much and that’s just un-American.

Thus, I awoke at 6 a.m. and recognized the beginnings of a urinary tract infection.

And oh, they are delightful.

Also, I don’t know that I’ve ever mentioned this because, again, TOO MUCH INFORMATION, but on a normal day I go to the bathroom about 87 times. And that’s not counting the three consecutive times I go right before bed every night. I’m a compulsive potty-er.

Anyway, our plan for Friday was to head to our friend AJ’s ranch and hang out with her family. We were so excited about it and I decided that we needed to forge ahead with our plans in spite of my compromised bladder. So in between trips to the bathroom, I got us packed. We loaded the cars and headed south on I-35.

And I say loaded the cars because we took two cars. P was going to another friend’s ranch on Saturday but Caroline and I were going to come home, therefore we needed two cars. I gave Caroline the choice of who she wanted to ride with and her only concern was who was going to be in front. She chose P because he would be the leader and in her mind, the clear winner.

And she may have looked me right in the eye and growled, “Daddy and I are going to BEAT YOU.”

I hope I’m not raising Tonya Harding.

I knew I needed to go to the bathroom before we had even reached downtown San Antonio but I tried desperately to keep my mind on other things. Finally, I called P and told him I’d need to stop. We pulled over at a gas station and Caroline decided she also needed to go.

After waiting in line for 10 or 48 minutes, it was finally our turn. Only Caroline didn’t need to go after all. She just likes to check out various gas station restrooms and report on their smell.

Which isn’t at all odd.

We got back on the road for about 3 minutes when, all of a sudden, P pulled over on the shoulder. He looked under his truck and I could read his lips as he said what appeared to be DANG and SHOOT or maybe it was something else. And I haven’t mentioned that behind his truck he was hauling a trailer with his Polaris 4-wheel vehicle on the back.

We didn’t look at all like the Clampetts coming to town.

Or perhaps like a scene from Grapes of Wrath.

He motioned for me to come get Caroline out of the truck in case oncoming cars didn’t see a huge, white Ford F350 with a 15 foot trailer attached with various hazard lights blinking like a huge beacon. So there we stood on the side of I-35, in the freezing cold, not looking at all like white trash.

And I had to go to the bathroom.

No, I didn’t go on the side of the road.

But I thought about it.

It seems that P’s muffler had started to fall off which was causing his truck to sound like he was about to start drag racing. And this wasn’t just some factory muffler, it’s some SUPER muffler with SUPER MUFFLER qualities that make your truck ten times better than an average truck. At least that’s what the salesman told us. P wanted to salvage the muffler.

And there we stood on the side of the road. In the freezing wind. Needing to potty.

Meanwhile, P was under the truck trying to use baling wire to reattach his overpriced muffler. It will always be a treasured memory for me.

Finally all of us, including the muffler, got back on the road so we could reach the next exit and pull off because two guesses! I needed to go to the bathroom.

We repeated the earlier bathroom scenario and once again, Caroline didn’t go.

Then, about 10 minutes later, rinse and repeat.

We head out again and drive for a lengthy 20 more minutes before P pulls over at another gas station. I didn’t know why we were stopping, but was worried we were about to lose the family inheritance, otherwise known as the muffler.

He pulled Caroline out of the truck.

She needed to go potty.

Because the other three stops had been insufficient.

All said and done it took us three and a half hours to make a one hour drive to the ranch.

And y’all will be glad to know the muffler is still with us. It was touch and go for awhile but I think it’s going to be okay.

And, hopefully, so will my bladder.
Eat oatmeal, it’s the right thing to do

I woke up this morning with Caroline right in my face. She was looking at me very carefully and finally asked, “Mama, why do you have stripes on your forehead?”

Because my skin is losing collagen by the day. Thank you.

We spent the morning going to gymnastics and then invited Caroline’s friend, Emily, over to play. The girls had a great time other than occasional skirmish over Barbie Princess shoes. There is nothing 4 year old girls enjoy more than a chance to tattle on each other.

And make chalk handprints on your backdoor.

While Caroline was occupied in a game of tug of war over assorted Barbie jewelry, I spent my time cutting and taping recipes into my recipe notebook.

What’s a recipe notebook you ask?

It’s a handy notebook that I bought many years ago and whenever I find a recipe that I like, I cut it out and tape it into my notebook. The only problem is I tend to pile up about six months worth of torn out magazine pages and shove them into the notebook where they fall out all over the kitchen floor everytime I go to look up a recipe.

It may sound like I’m unorganized and well, I am. The important thing is that eventually they end up in the notebook on a color coded page according to whether they are a main dish, a side dish, or a dessert.

I’ll just go ahead and confess that the dessert section is by far the most populated segment of the book. It’s not that I’ve actually made an Ooey Gooey Snickers Ice Cream Cake, but I am comforted to know that I could if the need arises.

For instance, if the writers’ strike continues and all the good shows go off the air.

Obviously, I am reserving it for a huge crisis.

So, while I was going through the recipes, I found a recipe I had cut out for Baked Oatmeal and thought hey! a hearty, nutritious breakfast possibility for Caroline. I mean she really needs something in her stomach before she starts in on the Halloween candy.

And, since I had all the ingredients on hand along with a big helping of delusions of grandeur, I decided it would be fun for Caroline and I to make it together.

Here’s Caroline with a lemon and frozen blueberries. She can hardly contain her excitement over the lame afternoon activity I’ve come up with.

Here are all the other ingredients and Caroline, who was asking that ceramic rooster, whom she’s apparently named Carlos, if he would like to marry her.

Kid, if you’re going to keep baking here you’re going to need to stay off the drugs.

(Yes, the picture is blurry. Do not adjust your monitor. If you’re looking for good photography, you’re in the wrong place)

While I’m in the midst of trying to wrangle Caroline before she runs off with Carlos the rooster, P comes in with some new navigation software that he’s purchased and needs to install it on the computer.

He heads towards my beloved Mac and puts the CD into the drive.

Nothing.

Takes out the CD and tries it again.

Nothing.

Takes it out and sees wording on label that says, “Not compatible with Mac Systems”.

So, he tries it on our PC.

Nothing.

He enlists my help. So now, I’m a cook and IT support. You do not want me to be your IT support because you know what I know about computers?

Not much.

My main tech support move is to just repeat the same thing over and over again to see if maybe it will work on the 143rd click of the mouse. Or maybe if you just put in the CD one more time it will actually work.

This time I even pulled out the big guns and took the CPU out of the cabinet where it’s housed and kicked it really hard on the side to give it a jumpstart.

Bill Gates has nothing on me.

Meanwhile, Caroline is holding an egg yelling, “MAMA, CAN I GO AHEAD AND BREAK THIS EGG? CAN I? CAN I? CAN I? CAN I? NOW?”

Not yet, Sweetie. Let’s wait and see if you can ask 132 more times and make my head explode.

And what do you know? She can.

P is messing with the computer which makes me very nervous because P doesn’t really have my computer skills or finesse. You have to know how to kick it just right.

Caroline is holding eggs and talking non-stop.

The phone is ringing off the hook because Buckmasters needs to know if P is renewing his subscription.

It really was the peaceful cooking moment I imagined in my head.

But nevertheless, the Baked Oatmeal turned out to be pretty good. And I’ll spare the internet and not tell y’all what Caroline said it looked like as we poured it into the baking dish.

Just know it tastes better than it looks.

The real reward is I have a nutritious breakfast that I can reheat and serve to Caroline in the morning which means I won’t have to share my chocolate Pop-tarts.

In case any of y’all are still reading and interested in the recipe, here it is.

Baked Oatmeal

That’s all the ingredients except for the blueberries and lemon shown in an earlier photo.

2 cups frozen blueberries
2 tbs. fresh lemon juice, divided
1 18oz. container regular oats
3 large eggs, beaten
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup unsweetened applesauce
1 tbs. ground cinnamon
4 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 1/4 cups water
1 cup milk
1/4 cup melted butter.

Toss 2 cups blueberries in 1 tbs. lemon juice and spread evenly in a 9×13 inch lightly greased baking dish. Combine oats, next 9 ingredients and remaining 1 tbs. lemon juice in a large bowl. Mix well. Pour mixture over blueberries.
Bake, covered, at 350 for 30 minutes. Uncover and bake 20 more minutes or until golden brown and set.

Have a great day and don’t run off with any roosters named Carlos.
Yesterday all my troubles weren’t so far away

Yeah.

So yesterday pretty much stunk up the place.

We started the day with gymnastics or I should say, Caroline started the day with gymnastics. My gymnastics career officially ended when Caroline was a year old and I attempted to do a cartwheel in the front yard for her amusement because hey! I knew how to do cartwheels 20 years ago. A fact that, as I crashed down upon myself due to lack of upper body strength, brought me little comfort.

Anyway, Caroline has had a cough due to cold for about the last week and a half. I’ve been waiting for it to get better, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t have to take her to the pediatrician’s office because, you know, GIANT PETRI DISH. I finally realized it was inevitable since it appeared a sinus infection had taken up occupancy.

She hasn’t seemed to feel bad at all. In fact, while I was gone over the weekend, she and P went to a football game, went hunting, and ate lots of candy, so I went ahead and took her to gymnastics this morning and we headed for the doctor’s office immediately afterwards.

We waited in the POOL OF BACTERIA AND INFESTATION for 50 long minutes before they called us back. This allowed plenty of time for her to play with the flu contaminated abacus while playing with various children coated in mucus.

Perfect.

They finally called her name and I hosed us both down with anti-bacterial gel. Mercifully, our pediatrician came in the room right away. She checked Caroline’s ears, throat, and nose. Then she asked her to take deep breaths while she listened to her chest.

It’s a sinus infection along with a helping of BRONCHITIS.

I am mother of the year.

I had no idea. And as the pediatrician gave us four different prescriptions to treat the various infections, I felt stellar for waiting so long to take her to the doctor. My only consolation is that she truly never acted sick. She has the stamina of a Clydesdale packed into 34 pounds.

I left the doctor’s office with a purse full of prescriptions, Caroline, and my guilt. I headed towards HEB to drop off her prescriptions and perhaps to buy some chocolate ice cream. I was driving down the highway when I saw flashing lights coming up quickly behind me so being the law-abiding citizen I am, I changed lanes to let the policeman pass me by.

He changed lanes with me.

Oh.

Superb.

I pull over, gather my drivers’ license, proof of insurance (expired, naturally!), and my sob story about my sick child. The policeman comes to my window and I hand him my offerings with profuse apologies and explanations of bronchitis and guilt.

Unfortunately for me, someone had amputated his heart.

Tickets. Two tickets.

One for speeding and one for expired insurance.

But GOOD NEWS! he helpfully explained, all I have to do is show a current proof of insurance and that ticket will be dismissed.

Hooray.

Also, he informed me that next time I get pulled over on a highway I should pull over on the opposite side of the road from where I pulled over. It seems that I had put his life at risk, not to mention the life of my poor child with bronchitis. Thank you officer, you’ve been a huge help.

We finally get to HEB to drop off our prescriptions and mill around the store for the 20 minutes it will take to get them filled. Caroline totally suckered me into buying her a stuffed dog wearing a Santa hat because “it’s the only thing that could make me feel better.” She named him Christmasy, although she could have named him My Mama is a Sucker.

I finally returned to the pharmacy window to collect our medications. The pharmacist gave me instructions for each medication and as he handed me the oral abuterol said, “Now, this may cause her to be a little wired.”

Caroline is always “a little wired”, adding the albuterol created an effect that made Richard Simmons handing out Deal-A-Meal cards look low key and sedate.

The best part is she has to take it for five more days.

Awesome.

By the time evening finally came, I wasn’t feeling so great myself. My throat is sore, I feel congestion coming on, and the whole day just kind of wore me out, what with the guilt, the bronchitis, the albuterol, the speeding ticket, and the cost of a prescription of Omnicef.

Then my phone rang and it was Gulley. It seems that she had made Triple Chocolate Chip Cookies because she had a feeling I was in need of a little pick me up. Ten minutes later she stood at my front door in her flannel pajamas, bearing a Ziploc bag filled with chocolatey goodness.

And all of a sudden the world looked a little brighter.

Never underestimate the power of a good cookie.

Or a teaspoon of albuterol.