Year: 2007

  • God does a body good

    The other night, I was tucking Caroline into bed and I asked her if she wanted to say her prayers. She said no. I told her that God wants to hear her talk to Him and thank Him for the good things He has done in our lives.

    She said, “Okay”, and then as I was walking out of her room, she said “Mama?”

    “Yes, sweetie?”

    “I want God to live in my heart”

    “You do? That’s so good, God wants to live in your heart”

    “Yes, I want Him to live in my heart so that I can have strong bones.”

    I’m not sure how I managed to get milk and God confused in her mind, but I’m a little concerned that she may also think God prevents cavities.

  • A prayer request for dear friends

    I’m going to ask y’all to pray for my friend A.J.’s mom. Her mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the end of October. I wrote this post that y’all can go read if you missed it the first time.

    She had a CT scan right before Christmas and they chose to wait until after Christmas to find out the results. What they discovered was that the cancer had continued to spread. The doctor gave them another treatment option that involved extensive chemo in a twelve day time period. They had to stop this treatment last week because it was just too much. Her mom was in a lot of pain and her body just couldn’t handle it.

    They are going in Friday morning to see if a third treatment option is a possibility. Her mom really wants to continue to fight, but realizes they may be out of options.

    So, I’m asking y’all for your prayers. Pray for the doctor to have wisdom regarding treatment, pray that they would know whether or not they should pursue further options, pray for a miracle, pray for peace for all of them, and just pray whatever else you feel lead to pray.

    Let me just tell y’all this, A.J. came by our house last night and talked with P and I for a long time. I am humbled and inspired by the faith and spiritual maturity that this 23 year old woman possesses. It’s a heavy load, but A.J. knows she’s not carrying it alone and she has fully placed her trust in the only One who holds everything in the palm of His hand.

    Thanks y’all, for your prayers.

  • I prefer to use the term eccentric

    The first order of business today is to thank y’all for your sweet comments regarding my funk. Nothing like feeling loved to make a girl feel a little less funky. Seriously.

    Secondly, Jennifer over at Snapshot tagged me for a meme that involves divulging six weird pieces of information about myself. Come on. You’ve got to give me a challenge. Finding six weird things is like taking candy from a baby.

    1. I am absolutely, completely compulsive when it comes to all things involving going to bed at night. P and I have slept under separate covers since about the second week of our marriage because for some reason he didn’t want to sleep under a down comforter every night. I am now unable to share covers with anyone, even my child. If Caroline gets in bed with us at night, I bring her own quilt for her to cover up with because everyone in this family has to pull their own weight…or blanket as the case may be.

    In addition to the no cover sharing, I must have a totally wrinkle free bottom sheet and all three of the pillows that I sleep with must be plumped down to the end of the pillowcase. I don’t need any extraneous pillow case hanging off the pillow, it’s just messy. And if there are any crumbs in the bed, then my night is just completely shot.

    After I get all of this done (and I know y’all can’t imagine there is more), I have to go to the bathroom three times in a ten minute period. It goes like this: go to the bathroom, brush teeth, go to the bathroom, turn on bedside lamp and take down ponytail, go to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter that I may not have to even go, I’m just doing everything I can to prevent a 2 a.m. trip to the bathroom. My hatred of middle of the night bathroom visits made me a complete joy to be around throughout my pregnancy.

    2. I know just about every song that has ever been written. I could be on Name that Tune…well, if it still existed. You give me a song and most of the time I can give you the artist and at least some of the lyrics.

    3. I have mentioned before that I am OCD. I can’t stand clutter. Things pile up and I must get them out of my sight. However, what I may have failed to mention is that I often just put them somewhere else where they don’t necessarily belong, but where I don’t have to look at them. This may explain why a drawer in my kitchen holds takeout menus, batteries, a thank you note from Caroline’s teacher, playdough, some decorative garland from Christmas and other assorted oddities.

    In fact earlier, P pulled out a little ziploc baggie containing a door stop, multiple picture hangers, and two double AA batteries and commented how handy it was to have all those items in one convenient baggie since they obviously all go together.

    I would like to be more organized, really I would, but not enough to actually do something about it.

    4. I know more trivial information than should be allowed. I am truly the Cliff Claven of my group of friends and PROUD of it. There is nothing I like more than throwing out a random fact about something or someone. I can’t always cite my source because I have stored information in recesses of my brain about things I’ve read years before, but oh yes ma’am do I know some stuff.

    The only commonality is that most of it isn’t useful.

    5. I briefly mentioned this in a previous post, but back when I used to go hunting and P would put me in a blind by myself, I would get bored and start talking to the deer. I’d get louder and louder until I was basically yelling “Hey YOU!” at them. Amazingly, some of them still stuck around which completely proved P’s theory that you have to be quiet while hunting totally wrong.

    Either that or they just figured that any idiot yelling at them out of a blind was certainly not planning on shooting them, so they might as well keep eating.

    6. I tend to obsess over things (see #1). I would like to say that I lose sleep at night over things like world peace or the budget deficit, but that would be a lie. I will wake up in the middle of the night to worry about things like if I should have bought the sweater that I saw earlier that day at Gap and if I go back tomorrow will they still have one in my size.

    I also lay awake and compose letters in my head that I am going to write to the head of whoever is in charge of trains, regarding how many times a train conductor should be allowed to blow their whistle at 2 a.m. and wake people out of a perfectly good sleep, people who need their sleep because they have a child who rarely sleeps through the night and if this happens to be one of those rare nights, then they certainly do not need to be awakened by some train conductor blowing his whistle 146 times because he is bitter that he is working the night train shift.

    I don’t limit my imaginary letter writing to the bigwigs at the train department. It’s just an example of one of my most common compositions. Anyone is fair game to end up on my pretend letter exercise, the only problem is that they usually make much more sense in the wee hours of the morning than they do in the light of day, which I’m sure is the ONLY reason that I don’t actually write out my thoughts and send them in.

    And on the subject of writing out thoughts, I think I’m done. I’m supposed to tag six people, but I am fairly certain that everyone in the blogging universe has already done this. If you haven’t, then consider yourself tagged. If any of y’all don’t have a blog, feel free to live something weird about yourself in the comments. It’s always comforting to know you’re not alone.

  • Working today to create a better tomorrow

    I talked to Gulley this morning and she mentioned that she had already read Big Mama. For Gulley to read the blog before 9:00 a.m. is quite the accomplishment because her computer is in the office in her garage, which means to get on the computer she has to endure the cold and let her two year old roam around the garage. I appreciate the loyalty.

    Anyway, Gulley said, “I read Big Mama, it seems like you’re in a bit of a funk”, which is the way your best friend tells you that some of your posts of late may be a little lame. And let me be the first to say that I am well aware of that fact. Also, I know Gulley well enough to know that she will read this and call me to apologize. Gulley is always worried about hurting somebody’s feelings, so if she tells you that you look great and like you’ve lost 10 pounds, she’ll call you later in the day to clarify that you definitely didn’t need to lose weight, in fact you look great, you look like you’ve lost 15 pounds, which, in case she didn’t mention, you definitely did NOT need to lose in the first place.

    Gulley explained that she can tell I’m not myself because she knows me so well. So, if any of y’all have been wondering, let me state for the record that I am, in fact, in a bit of a funk. Gulley does indeed know me well.

    I spent this past weekend with a raging case of PMS. In fact, yesterday Boomama posted a great story (if you’re looking for writing quality, you should head over there…if mediocre is your thing, you’re always welcome here) about her Sunday morning with her three year old and her own case of PMS. Her story ended with a great spiritual lesson, mine does not.

    Due to my sad state of mind throughout the weekend, I was bound and determined that Caroline and I were going to church Sunday morning. P was out of town hunting, so it was just the two of us. I woke up with a headache, but decided to go ahead with my church plan, so I got up and got myself dressed while Caroline watched T.V.

    I took a deep breath and headed in to get her dressed. She had decided that every article of clothing in her closet offended her to no end and I finally just picked out a dress and started to pull it on over her head while she kicked and screamed. There is no sweeter picture than a crying mama wrestling a crying toddler to the ground as we try to get ready to go sing praises to Jesus. I wanted to throw the dress across the room and go back to bed, but by this point we had to go to church on principle alone. I wasn’t going to lose this fight.

    We drove to church with Caroline whining the WHOLE way about how unfair life is and how she doesn’t like Sunday School and she has NO FRIENDS and doesn’t want to HEAR ABOUT JESUS. I mumbled something about how much we both needed to hear about Jesus this morning, got her out of her carseat and headed into church.

    I wish I could tell y’all that it ended with us learning some great spiritual lesson and that we both left renewed and refreshed with the peace of the Holy Spirit upon us, but that would be a lie. We left with both of us in tears once again and I cried most of the way home in frustration.

    When we pulled into the driveway, P was thankfully home from the ranch so I handed Caroline over to him while I went inside to compose myself and see if maybe a nap would take away my desire to set fire to something.

    But really, it’s not just the PMS. I could throw everything into that category and use it as a catch all for all that is wrong with my current state of mind, but that wouldn’t be accurate. The truth is that I feel overwhelmed right now. Things at work are busy, as they always are at the beginning of the year. It’s hard to come off the fantasy that is a three week vacation and snap back into the reality of reports, quotas, painfully long meetings and strategy planning about new clients. This is a huge part of the reason that January is always one of my least favorite months of the year. When you combine all of that with an obstinate three year old and a case of PMS…well, it’s just bad waiting to happen.

    I hope in the next few weeks as I adjust to being back in the real world and maybe as the people around me decide to give me some good material, that the content of Big Mama will once again achieve new heights of averageness.

  • A girl should really try to keep an air of mystery

    Yesterday evening our phone rang and it was our neighbor from across the street. He was making vegetable soup and wanted to know if I had an onion he could borrow. I looked and was very impressed with myself when I realized I actually had not one, but two onions on hand. Look at me, I’m a real cook with onions in the kitchen and everything!

    He said he’d be right over to get the onion. Caroline wanted to give it to him so I let her answer the door and hand him the onion. He said hello, thanked us for the onion and then in an attempt to make a little conversation, asked Caroline if she liked onions.

    She answered, “Yes, but they give me the toots.”

    I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but she’s very delicate and shy.

  • Hey Zuko, you wanna head to Denny’s and grab a Grand Slam breakfast?

    Y’all know that I spent part of my evening last night watching Grease, You’re the One that I Want. I’m not sure that it lived up to my expectations, but in my vast reality show watching experience, these shows tend to get better as the contestants get narrowed down.

    For now, let me just say that there isn’t really a man alive who looks good in black jeans. It’s a hard look to pull off, even when you’re trying out for the role of Danny Zuko. But if you’re a male who is old enough to qualify for a Medicare Part D program and get the senior discount at Denny’s, then your days of wearing black jeans while singing Summer Lovin’ are over. That ship has sailed.

    As for the Sandys in the group, as of now my favorite is the cute brunette with the cute little name like Jilly or Keely or something like that. Maybe it’s because I’d just once like to see one of my kindred brunette sisters get recognized as Sandy. It would be redemption for those years when Libba Fletcher told me I couldn’t possibly be Sandy because I had brown hair.

    But I’m totally over it.

    Of course if I had known that there was no age limit and if I could actually sing and/or dance, I would have flown out to L.A. to tryout. One huge factor that might have worked in my favor is that P actually ate dinner with Billy Bush about two years ago and while they didn’t become lifelong friends, Billy Bush did tell him at the end of dinner that he was a cool, (insert f word + ing) guy.

    I’m just saying as the wife of that guy, it could have been my ticket to fame…or at least a chance to embarrass myself on national television.