Another day

Yesterday morning, we picked up Caroline’s friend, Emily, and brought her back to our house to spend the day. Emily has a brand new baby brother at home, her mama has a sinus infection, and her daddy’s job requires him to be out of town every week.

Honestly, just thinking about all of that makes me feel like I need to take some Zantac.

Or a tequila shot.

So, we had Emily at our house all day and it was great. The girls built tents, played Polly Pockets and, basically, destroyed the playroom. But they entertained themselves ALL DAY LONG. It made me wish Caroline was a twin. I’d take another 4 year old tomorrow, it’s just the stuff you have to go through to get to 4 that makes it all a little less appealing. You know, the no sleeping, and the spitting up, and the blocked milk ducts.

Plus, the crying. All the crying. And Caroline cried alot, too.

Before I took Emily home, I bathed and fed both girls because Emily’s mama mentioned that bathtime is the hardest time to be alone with both kids. She told me that some nights she ends up losing her temper a little, which causes Emily to yell, “OH NO! Here comes the monster!” while she goes and hides in her bedroom. And if y’all knew Emily’s mama you’d know that, even at her worst, she is still one of the sweetest people I know.

I told her not to feel bad because the monster comes out at our house around 6 p.m. most evenings and I can’t even blame it on sleep deprivation. It’s just part of my charm and gentle nature.

Anyway, I loaded up both girls in my car and drove Emily home. We dropped her off and then Caroline and I headed back to our house. I turned onto my street and, all of a sudden, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw flashing lights.

It was the POLICE.

Dang.

Caroline immediately starts in with “WHAT’S HAPPENING, MAMA?!! WHY ARE THE POLICE HERE? WHAT DID YOU DO?!!” I try to assure her we’re not about to get hauled into county lockup, as I fumble around for my driver’s license and proof of insurance. I found them and watched the cop walk up to my window. Thus began my internal debate.

Male? Female? Male? Female?

Y’all. I couldn’t tell.

Officer Pat asked for my license and registration, then said, “You just live right down the street?” And, without thinking, I responded, “Yes Ma’am”. I just rolled the dice and let it fly. I immediately regretted my decision to play gender identification roulette.

The Officer nodded and walked back to the car. I spent the next 5 minutes wondering if I’d made the correct assumption. It looked like a man, but it had highlights in its buzz cut. It walked like a man, but the voice leaned more towards female.

It could have gone either way.

Much to my relief, I was let off with just a warning. In fact, Officer Pat even overlooked the fact that my driver’s license expired a few weeks ago. I was all prepared to launch into my sob story about my husband’s recent back surgery, and the fact that my child isn’t in school and there is no way I can take her to the DPS office and spend 14 hours waiting in line. Tuppence for the poor, officer. Tuppence.

I was going to leave out the part about not wanting to get a new driver’s license picture taken until I get my braces off. I didn’t feel it would convey the best law-abiding citizen image.

I happily signed my warning and thanked the officer for her leniency. And yes, I’ve decided it must have been a she because, first of all, she let me off with just a warning, which seems unlikely had I said “Yes ma’am” to a man that has probably spent many years filled with insecurity over his high pitched voice.

Secondly, she seemed to take pity on the fact that I had a whiny 4 year old in the backseat who kept repeating, “I just want to GO HOME”. And also, kept loudly saying, “MAMA, PLEASE DON’T TELL DADDY ABOUT THIS! HE’LL BE SO MAD, MAMA! YOU’LL BE IN BIG TROUBLE, MAMA!”

Which cracks me up because P isn’t one to get worked up about me getting a ticket. After all, it’s not him that would have to spend 8 life-draining hours in some defensive drivers’ course with a half-baked instructor who teaches these classes for fun and welcomes multiple questions from the class after the showing of “Blood Runs Red on the Highway”.

P’s just not really the kind of guy who gets mad very often.

As opposed to me, who has been known to throw a cordless phone in my day.

Anyway, P was in the shower by the time we got home and then she had to go to bed. But I’m betting she totally rats me out tomorrow.

**Edited to add: She ratted on me by 10:00 a.m. It was a total sellout.

This morning I woke up at 10:00 a.m. ( because P is a peach and let me sleep late in honor of our anniversary) to the sound of rain. Apparently, Tropical Depression Erin arrived in San Antonio overnight.

I didn’t even know there was a disturbance in the Gulf, which means I hadn’t watched the news in several days because, if I had, I would have been inundated with excited meteorologists talking about barometric pressure and the importance of buying lumber at Home Depot to board up windows to ward off impending gale force doom, while bright graphics scrolled across the screen with TROPICAL WATCH ’07 and a depiction of a palm tree bending over with the sheer force of the wind.

I mean, I vaguely heard something on Tuesday night about the chance of getting 10 inches of rain on Thursday, but I wrote it off because I have fallen victim too many times to false reports of massive rainfall that, in truth, result in barely enough precipitation to get the driveway wet.

I’m nobody’s patsy.

However, by 11 a.m., it became clear by the rain falling sideways that Tropical Depression Erin was not messing around. So, Caroline and I did what we always do in these dreadful, rainy day situations…headed to Gulley’s house.

By 3 p.m., this is what the street in front of Gulley’s house looked like.

And this is what we were doing.

Then, the rain kept falling and I began to realize we might have some problems getting home. And since I didn’t really want to spend my anniversary apart from P, Caroline and I got in the car to attempt to make it home. After much navigational manuevering, I managed to get us home.

We ran in from the rain and I began to really worry. Our entire anniversary plan for the evening rested upon the ability of the Sushi Delivery Man’s ability to deliver fresh, uncooked food to our door.

Y’all can breath a sigh of relief. The sushi was delivered.

And really I have nothing else to share, except for 2 things.

1. Yesterday, I was having a conversation with someone about technical blog stuff and he began to talk about widgets. I did my best “oh I totally understand what you’re talking about” response, but obviously did a poor job because he asked if I knew what a widget was. I responded, “As far as I know, he’s a character on Wow, Wow Wubbzy”.

I’m still laughing about it.

And, I’m pretty sure he was impressed with my computer knowledge.

2. After watching Caroline change her clothes multiple times in the last few weeks, I have decided to add a new page to Big Mama featuring up to the minute, or maybe up to the every few hours (I have a life, people. Really. I do.) fashion photos featuring the little fashionista. Think of it as having your own personal style guru that will make you feel that it is okay to wear mixed florals. It’s just all about the proper interpretation.

So, feel free to click on “From the Closet” over on my sidebar to see the latest updates.

And also know that if she outgrows this stage tomorrow, it will be a short lived feature. However, I feel fairly confident that she is like her mama and will continue to have a propensity to try on multiple outfits during each day.

Hope y’all have a great Friday!

I will admit that I was a little concerned about my 36th birthday due to the fact that P just had back surgery and I knew there would be no dancing involved in my birthday celebration. Not that we’ve ever gone dancing to celebrate my birthday, or really any other occasion, but at least it’s always been an option. (Well, except for 4 years ago when Caroline was only 2 weeks old and I was on the verge of a sleep deprivation breakdown. Not even dancing could have helped me back then.)

But thanks to all your comments and well wishes and e-cards, it was a wonderful birthday indeed. Yes ma’am. Y’all made it special. Thank you.

So, here’s what the big day involved. And seriously, keep drinking some kind of caffeinated beverage, you’ll need it just to stay awake.

I woke up this morning to the sound of little feet pitter-pattering across the bedroom floor and opened my eyes to a little urchin in a Disney princess nightgown staring at me and then ordering me to get up and make her some breakfast. P convinced her that maybe they ought to sing me Happy Birthday first, and so they did. However, no sooner had the last notes been sung before I was being dragged out of bed. This was our conversation all day:

“How old are you, Mama?”

“I’m 36”

“OHHHH, 46!”

“NO! 36. THIRTY-SIX.? THIRTY! SIX!”

The phone began to ring about an hour later, which is when most decent people get out of bed. It’s funny how some households wait for the sun to come up before beginning their day.? What a novel concept.

Friends and family called to wish me a happy birthday and it made my day to hear all the different ways Happy Birthday can be sung over the phone. I have some seriously talented friends.

Then, Gulley called with an offer for a birthday lunch with the kids, after which she would take Caroline for the afternoon while I went and got a pedicure or shopped or sat and stared off into space. That is why she is the best friend a girl can have. I didn’t even play the “are you sure?” game, I just said, “GREAT! Is it too early for lunch RIGHT NOW?”

So, my toes are now a lovely shade of Essie South Hampton pale pink, and the color really sets off the black and blue tone of my baby toe. There is nothing quite as entertaining as trying to explain a broken baby toe to a pedicure technician who doesn’t really speak English. “THIS TOE? DO NOT TOUCH THIS TOE. HURT. BAD. NO TOUCH.” And yes, I spoke louder, because that totally bridges the language barrier.

I came home and spent the rest of my free time taking a nap because I live on the edge. Especially considering the reason I took a nap was so I wouldn’t be too tired for Bible Study later that evening.

Washing towels, taking out the trash, heating up chicken nuggets, napping, and Bible Study. It’s really just a matter of time before I have my own MTV reality show.

As for birthday presents, I got some cash money, which is always a safe bet. Well, except for the fact that I will need to hide it from myself to keep from spending it prematurely on something important like a burrito from Chipotle. I’ve had my eye on a sweater coat from Anthropologie, so the birthday money may go towards the sweater coat fund.? Of course, I’ll also have to quit buying things like food for my family, but sometimes you can’t put a price on fashion.? ? Plus, nothing says I’d sure like a sweater coat like? shopping in 108 degree temperatures.

I also got a gift certificate to Banana Republic and another one for a local spa. Don’t think I won’t spend a day tirelessly shopping for just the right shirt at Banana and then getting a massage to help me work through the exhaustion of the decision making process. It will be a? day of everything I love.

Also, when I arrived at Bible Study last night, the lovely and talented AG had made some delicious chocolate cupcakes that were artfully arranged on a platter with a candle stuck in the one in the middle. Everyone sang Happy Birthday and it was just so sweet. It made me so glad that I had taken that nap because I was well rested and able to enjoy the celebration.

And best of all, I mentioned to P weeks ago that I would love a pair of really cute cowboy boots, because cowboy boots are the gift that keeps giving to a girl that lives in South Texas. It doesn’t matter what InStyle says, boots are always in style here and thus, I wanted a really cute pair to replace my old ones. So,? yesterday morning,? P and Caroline ordered these for me.

They’ll be here in 5-7 working days. It will be like my birthday all over again.

? So far, 36 totally rocks.

Friday evening, Caroline and I left P lying in bed while we went to pick up some dinner and his prescriptions at the pharmacy. As I signed for the medications, I noticed that, along with Lortab for the pain, the doctor had also given him a prescription for Valium. After his previous surgeries, he never got a prescription for Valium and I was a little confused as to why he was given one this time. However, by the end of the day Saturday, I realized the doctor gave us the Valium because he knew I would need it.

Note to self: Next time (heaven forbid) your husband needs surgery, do not schedule said surgery while your parents and your best friend are out of town. It’s a cocktail for a nervous breakdown with a side of crazy.

Friday night, Caroline woke up several times during the night with a cough and congestion. I was a little worried she might be coming down with a cold and, truth be told, decided that might be a good thing because then she would be content to just hang out around the house all day Saturday, and sleep, and watch Disney movies.

I live in a world of delusion and fantasy that would make Mr. Roarke and Tattoo very proud.

She woke up for the day around 6 a.m. demanding pancakes and entertainment. Frankly, after a long night of listening to her cough and making sure P was doing okay, I just wasn’t really up to a morning of rolling Barbie around in her Beach Glam Cruiser with her miniature friend, Polly Pockets. But I did the best I could, in between getting P his medicine, lifting up the toilet seat for him and helping him get dressed. It’s amazing how limited a person is when they can’t bend or twist or reach for anything.

The morning was going along reasonably well, until tragedy struck. I was walking into the living room to get something and neglected to see Caroline’s Cozy Coupe sticking out from the hallway. And in case y’all don’t know what a Cozy Coupe is, which probably means that you don’t have kids, a Cozy Coupe is a delightful little red plastic car that allows children to happily Fred Flintstone themselves around the house or the neighborhood. It is a toy bargain at just $39.99 and appeals to all ages and genders. Plus, nothing cracks me up more than when Caroline comes scooting around the corner driving the Cozy Coupe like she’s late for a job interview.

Anyway, apparently, the wheel was turned at a funny angle, which left the front tires sticking out, and as I walked by I hit my baby toe on the wheel. I looked down to see my baby toe sticking out from my foot at something resembling a 90 degree angle.

And then I picked up the Cozy Coupe in a fit of pure rage and threw it out the kitchen windows.

No, I didn’t. But only because the pain had brought me to my knees. I limped to the couch, moved my toe back to where it belonged, and cried like a little girl. About that time, P came hobbling into the living room because he had heard all the commotion, but seeing as how he just had back surgery, it took him about 10 minutes to arrive on the scene. He told me to put ice on my toe but, since we have a bottom freezer, he couldn’t bend over to get the ice for me, so I had to hobble my sad little self over to the freezer to make an ice pack.

So, really, enough about P and his bad back and his surgery. Let’s talk about my toe. It isn’t pretty, y’all. And we all know there is nothing you can do for a baby toe injury, except whine and complain about the pain and discomfort. So, on that front, I am taking excellent care of my baby toe.

On Sunday, I rebounded somewhat from my critical toe injury and, in a fit of OCD that I assume came from the stress of the surgery, plus the toe injury, plus sitting around my house for 48 hours looking at all the things I wanted to get done, I did some serious, serious house cleaning. I am not exaggerating when I tell y’all that I hauled about 240 bags of trash out of this house today…or at least 4 or 5.

I started by cleaning out under our bed. We don’t really have a linen closet, so I’ve just kept assorted comforters and blankets under the bed, along with a huge Rubbermaid container filled with gift wrap supplies. Oh, and also a photo collage from my college days and a photo album from high school. Obviously, it’s part of a strategic home organizational system.

I washed all the various blankets, comforters, dust bunnies, etc., then folded them and put them away in the top of one of Caroline’s closets. It’s not exactly a linen closet, but it will do. Then, I cleaned out the closet in the playroom, otherwise known as the storage facility for enough camoflauge clothing to make Cabelas weep with envy. That particular closet has a really cute little window in it (I have no idea why. I guess back in the 1920’s people wanted little windows in their closets).

Anyway, when P and I bought this house 9 years ago, we talked about how a child would be fascinated with that little window and it could be a magic little hideaway. It dawned on me that Caroline had never seen that little window because of all the junk that has accumulated in that closet. So, I cleaned it all out and sure enough, she made herself a little nest of blankets and sat in there looking out the window for at least 30 seconds.

It was magical.

Next, (I know, I was on a roll) I cleaned out Caroline’s closet and made her try on all of last year’s fall and winter clothes to see if anything still fits. I was pleasantly surprised at how much of it she’ll still be able to wear, especially considering that she’s grown about 2 feet taller in the last 3 months. She loved our little impromptu fashion show and I swear at one point she had some black velour jogging pants, turned around, checked out her bottom and said, “Oh, these just look DARLING on me!”

It’s like living with my own little J.Lo (well, back when J.Lo was still J. Lo, and not the refined, low key Mrs. Marc Anthony)

Finally, I ended the day by Windexing the OUTSIDE of my kitchen windows. THE OUTSIDE. Like, up on a stepladder, cleaning my windows, OUTSIDE. They had been driving me crazy with all the smudge and haze, so I seized the OCD moment and cleaned them.

And that is how I spent my Sunday.

Did I mention that my toe really hurts? And did I also mention that I am crazy and have no idea why I chose this particular weekend to do my entire list of to-dos for the next 6 months?

However, I do feel an incredible sense of accomplishment and, as a bonus, P even rubbed my feet for me tonight, sans the right baby toe. Because hello! all he had was back surgery, I BROKE MY TOE.