Year: 2006

  • Here is what I know about medieval forms of torture


    I believe that I have mentioned that I currently have braces on my teeth. Oh yes, yes I do.

    Nothing really makes you feel more awkward than being in your mid-30’s and having to worry about one of your rubber bands shooting out of your mouth while engaged in adult conversation. So y’all will understand when I say that I feel like Ugly Betty is a little bit of a kindred spirit.

    I had thought about getting braces for years. My teeth were pretty straight until I was about 18, and if y’all think I was going to get braces before going off to college, well you’re grossly overestimating the state of my self-esteem at that point in my life.

    About 5 years ago, I went to the orthodontist (which is the Latin derivative for sadistic, cruel torture wielder of incredible pain) and took all the initial steps to make my dream of adult orthodontia come true, but I backed out. Then one night last October, I told P that I was going to do it. I made an appointment for the following Tuesday.

    Little did I know that my orthodontist knew me well. The moment he got me back in that office, he slapped these metal torture devices on me so fast that it made my head spin. He knew that if he let me walk out the door without them, he may never see me again.

    I called P on the way home and let him know I actually had braces on my teeth. Actually ON my teeth. P is known for his complete honesty in all situations and I gave him advance notice so that he could be kind to my already damaged psyche. He said he didn’t believe me at first, but then realized that while I was saying “I have braces on my teeth”, what he was hearing was “I hath bratheth on my teeth.”

    Later that afternoon I had to pick Caroline up from school. I couldn’t have felt more self-conscious so my plan was to get in and get out fast. I walked into the classroom, waved to the teacher and picked up Caroline’s things. I looked at her and said “okay, let’s go” while keeping my mouth as closed as I could. She immediately looked up at me and said in her best non-indoors voice, “YOUR MOUTH, MAMA, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR MOUTH?” Subtlety…not so much the hallmark trait of 2 year olds.

    One of the things that made me the happiest after going through the ordeal of having FOUR teeth pulled and metal spikes glued to my teeth was when people would say “Why did you get braces? I never even noticed that your teeth were crooked.” Which just goes to show how little other people notice the flaws that drive you crazy. I spent years thinking people were looking at me and thinking that I might have in a set of those fake Billy Bob teeth that you can buy at the convenience store. I guess that was all in my head. A fact that would have been nice to know a year ago.

    Yesterday morning I had my monthly visit to the orthodontist’s office. I knew I was in trouble when he walked in and gave me a cheery “Hi Sport!”. He then proceeded to twist wires and teeth and use a rubber mallet to hammer something into place. A mallet…in my mouth. Needless to say, last night I gave myself a triple dose of Advil followed by a pain pill leftover from childbirth. Pain my friends, I am in pain.

    At one point, I was so uncomfortable that I started biting down on something to help get through the pain. He had to tell me that it was his finger. Y’all know what? I wasn’t even sorry.

  • You can’t fake this kind of crazy

    I am not going to even attempt to do a weekly recap of The Bachelor because 1. it’s a lot of pressure and 2. there is no way that I will do it as well as Lincee. However, after viewing last night’s episode, I am compelled to make a few quick observations.

    1. I’m telling y’all that ABC has bussed in a whole truckload of crazy this time. The execs must be beside themselves with excitement that Prince Lo Bo is a poor enough judge of character to keep Erica. She can’t possibly be a real person, can she?

    2. Did y’all see Lisa when Lo Bo talked about people who put love on some kind of time plan? I promise that her left eye started to twitch. Gulley’s Uncle Glen always says that you can tell someone is crazy if you can see the top and bottom of the whites of their eyes (i.e. the Runaway Bride from Georgia) and she certainly had a lot of white showing tonight. I’m afraid we might see Lisa go not a little bit nuts if her 5 year plan to marriage and babyville is thwarted. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a china pattern picked out by her first date.

    3. I have had periods of my life where I have been known to be a little overserved, but never to the point of speaking a foreign language. Kim gets the award for “I Blew My Chance To Marry a Fake Prince on National T.V.” I’m willing to bet she was “sweating beads” again tonight while she watched with friends and family.

    4. One of my top 5 favorite remarks of the night came from Desiree (yeah, baby) who in her words “has been single for a long time”. She’s 22. She could have never had a boyfriend in her life and not qualify for “single for a long time” status.

    Thank you ABC for a classic night of television.

  • I’m not one to quit on a garment just because it’s got a little wear *

    Yesterday my OCD tendencies were raging and I decided it was time to clean out my closet. This is a bi-annual event at the house of Big Mama wherein I give away any clothes that did not make it on my body for the season that is now over, and I sort through what remains of my wardrobe for the upcoming season. Fortunately, I had a helper.

    Caroline is modeling a summer top with a fab winter scarf and a lime green bag that gives the outfit that extra something special. This is an indicator of how the afternoon went. She would pick and choose items that she thought needed to be on her body immediately and I would stop what I was doing to help her accessorize. Good times.

    I made some interesting discoveries in my closet. First of all, I am the proud owner of no less than 16 black sweaters. I wish I could say that each one has distinguishing features, but really they are all just black sweaters with their redeeming quality being that they hide a multitude of toddler sins. Y’all would think that maybe I could weed a few of them out, but the answer is no because what if something happens to the other 15 and I no longer have a black sweater?

    Secondly, I realized that while I proclaim to have no pack rat tendencies, I found this disturbing scene lurking in the far back corner of my closet. Just seeing it was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.

    Maternity clothes. Taking up precious closet space is an array of garments that can only be described as some of the ugliest clothing to have ever adorned my body. Why do I keep them? No, seriously I’m asking why?

    I really do pride myself on being able to throw out the old, evaluate my wardrobe and think about what I need for the new season. It is one of the few things I do with this level of organization. In fact, it’s the only thing I do with this level of organization.

    But I do have some things that I look at every time I purge my closet and I just can’t say goodbye. I’ll share them with you.

    Denim vest circa 1991. This, at one time, was the crowning glory to every outfit I wore. My absolute masterpiece was a bandana print wrap skirt with a white t-shirt topped with this denim vest. I give that outfit credit for singlehandedly helping me get asked out on several dates in the early 90’s. The skirt is long gone, but I cannot say goodbye to this vest. It’s like an old friend who isn’t a good influence, but yet brought me so many great times.

    Y’all might think that I would be ashamed to put on a garment that confirms that I was in college in 1992, but you would be wrong.

    I’d like y’all to notice a commonality between this sweatshirt and the one featured above…they are both enormous. Can you guess why? Whoever guessed that it’s so I could wear them with leggings back in the early 90’s wins. Y’all can’t see the logo, but this sweatshirt was bought courtesy of my Daddy’s credit card (a little bonus I added while buying my books for the semester) back when there was still a Southwest Conference.

    Now before y’all accuse me of being a Britney Spears wannabe, let me explain that these are a true family heirloom. They belonged to my Aunt Sandra when she was a teenager and while in the interest of privacy I won’t reveal how long ago that was, I will say that you can tell a true pair of vintage Levis by whether Levi has a capital E on the tag or not. If there is a capital E, then they were made before 1950. These have a capital E. They are one of my most treasured possessions and I don’t wear them anymore…well, not in public anyway.

    So there you have it, the skeletons in my closet. In spite of my refusal to get rid of these items, I did manage to load up an entire box of other things. Caroline thoroughly enjoyed herself and kept asking me “how’re we doing with our teamwork Mama?” as she tried on EVERY single thing she could get her hands on, including this.

    Does it make y’all wonder if maybe I really am Sydney Bristow?

    *Does anyone know what movie the title of this post is from? No prizes will be awarded, it’s for pride only.

  • A little word association to pass the time

    I was tagged by Linda at 2nd Cup of Coffee for the word association meme that’s been going around. And by the way, if y’all haven’t visited Linda you should…she’s funny and smart.

    I can say with all certainty that it will be hard for me to be brief because my mind tends to go on a tangent when faced with thinking about all the things one word can bring to mind.

    So here are my words:

    1. Chicken: Me. I am a big chicken and nothing reminds me of it more than Halloween season. I am terrified of any scary movie or movie preview or book or ghost story. It doesn’t matter how many times P reassures me that the odds of an already deceased serial killer wearing a hockey mask is a highly unlikely scenario…I can NOT watch anything remotely scary. When I was a senior in high school, I made the mistake of going to see Pet Semetary with some friends, and I had to sleep with my mom until I left for college. I am not kidding.

    Also, one night in college I was studying at my boyfriend’s house and had left one of my books in the car. I was scared to go get it by myself because I had been at a friend’s house earlier where people were telling scary stories and begged him to go get it for me, but he wouldn’t. So I ran out to my car and in the meantime, he went out his back door, came around and jumped out and scared me in the driveway. I jumped a mile in the air and may have tee-teed in my pants. I can’t imagine why we broke up.

    2. Tranquility: the smell of lavender and soaking in a bubble bath in complete and total silence.
    It also makes me think of the sound of the ocean.

    3. Permanent: teeth. I am a little obsessed with Caroline’s future permanent teeth, so I tend to worry about too much juice or candy ruining her permanent teeth before they ever make an appearance in her mouth. Our pediatrician instills a lot of fear about bad habits of today affecting the permanent teeth later. We can’t take these baby teeth lightly because apparently if something happens to them it will affect everything from future orthodontia bills to SAT scores and someday your child could grow up to be a toothless, unproductive member of society.

    4. Adjusting: this makes me think of change. As in, I am not good at adjusting to change. I try, honestly I do, but the closet control freak in me is not a fan of adjusting.

    I’m pretty sure everyone in the blogging universe has been tagged already, but if you want to play or play again, here are the words.

    cowboy
    lemon
    peace
    change

    Have a good Sunday!

  • Happy Birthday Capital P

    One thing I’ve always loved about P is his desire to learn about everything he possibly can. In fact, one of my first memories of hanging out with him is him taking me to his family’s ranch and giving me a tour of wildlife and nature that Marlon Perkins would have envied.

    Whenever we have repairmen of any kind at the house, P will always watch them and ask questions to find out what they are doing and how they are doing it. There is nothing that he likes more than learning a new skill. Thanks to everything he has learned over the years, he was able to contract our entire home remodeling project all by himself and did an incredible job.

    As someone who doesn’t necessarily adapt to change or learn new things with much enthusiasm, I completely admire this quality.

    The things he has learned that mean the most to me, however, are his skill and heart when it comes to being a husband and a Daddy. P lost his Daddy when he was just 9 years old, so for a good part of his life has relied on memories of his father ,and the examples of other men that took him under their wing to show him what it means to be a man after God’s own heart.

    I am not always a peach to live with (hard to imagine, I know), but P rolls with it. He knows how to make me feel less stressed, less worried, and reminds me to just have fun. He makes me want to be the best wife and mama I can be.

    And when it comes to being a Daddy, I don’t think I ever dreamed of how much he would love our girl. She adores her Daddy and he adores her right back. There is nothing she likes more than to follow him out to our backhouse and watch him do whatever it is he does back there. He is so patient while he teaches her new skills because he shares that same voracious appetite for learning anything new and understands the need for all the questions. He’ll lean toward her and answer each of her one billion questions until she is satisfied. It makes me love him that much more.

    So, today on his 36th birthday I wish him all the love and happiness that his life has brought Caroline and me. I could not be more grateful that of all the things he has learned over the years, that being a husband and a daddy are the ones he does best.

  • We’re on our 3rd pair of underwear and it’s only 10 a.m.

    I have a group of girlfriends that get together once a month for dinner. We call ourselves Birthday Club, even though there are only 6 of us so we’re really only celebrating a birthday 50% of the time. However, we are all mothers of children ages 5 and younger, so we deserve a night of freedom once a month.

    We always meet at the same Mexican restaurant because they have round tables, a delightful outdoor patio (which doesn’t seem like much of a draw in July, but in October it’s lovely), and most importantly, some of the best queso you will ever eat. Ever. And I won’t embarrass myself by mentioning that I really wanted to order another bowl of it last night, but in the interest of decorum and my thighs,I practiced some self control.

    I love these nights because we laugh and talk about everything under the sun. We can range from the serious discussions of fertility and marital issues to equally serious, but not life defining, subjects such as The Bachelor, Grey’s Anatomy, fashion, and chefs on the Food Network who have lollipop heads because they are so dang skinny. Good times indeed.

    We usually don’t talk about our kids that much because 1. we’re there to have a break from being a mama and 2. we all have them, so there is really no novelty. However, last night Stephanie mentioned that she is in the process of trying to potty train her little boy.

    It brought a collective groan from the crowd.

    The rest of us have already been through this soul-draining debacle at least once and so we are all fully aware of what she is about to deal with on a daily basis. The daily struggle of diapers vs. bodily waste on your floor (always the carpet, never the tile) or perhaps even your couch. The gut wrenching decision to let a 2 1/2 year old have a little bit of power over you in the form of deciding they need to go “RIGHT NOW” even though you have a Racecar Cart full of quickly melting groceries on aisle 12 which is the aisle furthest from any restroom.

    Oh sure, there are the mothers who will sit in playgroup and tell you with a straight face that little Fielding was potty trained in one day and has never had a problem. I’ll tell y’all the technique those mothers use. LYING. Feel free to use it, but ultimately it will bring you no closer to your goal of helping your child achieve some modicum of social skills in the form of not peeing on the floor at an upscale baby store.

    The other story, which is usually told by your well-meaning mother or mother-in-law, is that you or your husband was potty trained at 16 months. Here’s the secret with that one, someone was potty trained. It was the MOTHER who sat that child on the potty every 15 minutes ALL day long. These mothers also had the benefit of raising children in a time when potty training didn’t have to be about unlimited amounts of Skittles as a reward and you could actually punish someone for wetting the floor or the dog, without being told you were going to cause them to be an incontinent sociopath for the rest of their lives.

    Here’s the thing about potty training. It is the great equalizer of motherhood. Whether you taught your child to read in the womb or you let them play with bags of glass, you have very little control over when they will decide to not poop in their pants. Even Gwyneth Paltrow and Catherine Zeta-Jones have urine stains somewhere in their homes. Now granted they probably have a Nanny and some high dollar cleanser to clean it with, but it’s there because they have toddlers who will have to learn to use the bathroom.

    The greatest story last night was told by my friend Hillary. Her little boy was having a hard time not having accidents, so her pediatrician recommended making a big reward chart. She went to the store, bought a big calendar and some stickers, and told her little boy that if he could be accident free for a week, he could go to the toy store and pick out a new train. They spent the week crossing off days, putting on star stickers, and finally he made it to the one week mark. She took him to the toy store and he picked out his train. She told him how proud she was of him as she paid for the train and as they were walking out of the store hand in hand, he looked up at her and said “Mama, I just pooped in my pants”.

    So she took that train and threw it across the parking lot. No, she didn’t. I’m totally kidding. But I promise she wanted to, because I have been there. There is nothing as humbling as a toddler with a little bit of power.