Christmas (and other) Cheer

Ahhhhh. Let's reflect for a moment on Christmas, and other 'cheer.'

Our family enjoys different traditions that we've come to look forward to each year.

Christmas Eve is spent with John's Dad (Boo) and his wife (Cici). There is a long-standing tradition of the Fareses getting together Christmas Eve, and our children expect to go to Boo & Cici's the day before Christmas! My husband grew up going to his Farese grandparents on Christmas Eve--exchanging gifts with cousins and sharing the anticipation of the most cherished day of the year. I included a photo of our girls at the "little table" Cici always provided! The afternoon of Christmas Day is spent with John's sweet mother and her family. The 'Stannard' side of the family gets together at their compound in Holly Springs [side note: YES, I'm aware my side of the family is missing from our Christmas traditions and I'm slightly bitter, but that's another post!] John's mother and her husband have a beautiful home next to her sister, John's aunt Vicki, and her husband. Vivian & Vicki are MommyDivas from way back--honey, they can do it all. Vivian decks her halls beautifully--I have a 'bit' to live up to! In spite of suffering from breast cancer (and her husband recently recovered from lung cancer) my mother-in-law graciously had us to her home Christmas Day. Thanks be to God for traditions that keep all of us motivated during exceedingly difficult times. Vivian and Smitty have been an inspiration--when the worst comes you live each day with resolve, dignity and as much strength as you can muster.

We always get together and exchange gifts with our dear friends the Tannehills. We do this a few days before Christmas and this year we went to their house....we enjoyed a delicious meal and their home was decorated beautifully. As dear friends do, we always feel at ease with the Tannehills. We have loads of fun together--laughing, talking and catching-up.

We also have a tradition of getting together with our friends the Greens and Callicutts--and the children decorate cookies for Santa. This is really one of our favorite activities during the holiday. The iced cookies are delicious--this year Kate made over 60 cookies for the kids to decorate (we are definitely getting her some help next year) and our barn proved to be an easy place for the kids to get reeeeeealy messy while icing and decorating their Christmas-shaped cookies! I'll get the recipe from her and post....MommyDiva you really MUST work this tradition into your holiday next year...or perhaps Valentine's??

Speaking of Valentine's--my Vixen friends will recall a time when we made cookies in college for our significant others--my pre-cooking days--and my cookies were U-G-L-Y....ahhhhh. They laughed at my cookies. It's true. I remember. And I know those hussies do too! Also, I remember Maria--see her blog at left "Life in the Afternoon" was particularly proud of HER cookies....and I vivdly remember Dr. Ash GLOATING about hers! Someone has photos that document my hell-ish confections. Holla Holla Vixens!!

And...eat your heart out while viewing our cookies for Santa! Maybe I'll send cookies your way for Valentines....while I'm "writing a letter to the Editor." And maybe Gregg Graham is reading THIS post!!!!!!! LOL.....For those of you who don't know Dr. Ash...she is reeeeeally good at--well, many things but I'm thinking right now of her uncanny ability to distract baseball players during their minor league game.....Honey, it was "Sweet Briar night" at the Lynchburg Red Sox game. Of course, WE were the cutest girls there!!! Honey, the cutest in all of Virginia as far as that goes! Dr. Ash, you MUST meet my friend RT--who also had a penchant for baseball players during college....

I don't mind telling you I feel very Blessed by the friendships I have made through the years--these women keep me sane! My girlfriends, my sister, my mother, my Dad's wife and my in-laws--all women I refer to as MommyDivas--help me stay grounded and navigate the rollercoaster ride of motherhood! (And, of course, my beloved Buford T.)

I wish each of you an AUTHENTIC 2010....honey, it ain't gonna be perfect! But life as a mother is rich and full and glorious....most days. There are moments...it f-ing sucks.

So....I wish you an AUTHENTIC 2010...'happy' is blase MommyDivas.

YOU deserve more!

Happy Birthday Buford T....You Shoulda Been a Cowboy!

Happy Birthday to you.....happy birthday to you.....happy birthday dear John....
Happy Birthday to you!!!
I would be remiss if I didn't wish my darling husband happy bday.
It goes without saying that my husband is a rare bird. He is rugged yet sophisticated. His values and character were molded and shaped in a rural Southern town--and don't get me started on his use of a saw, fishing pole and his general all-around resourcefulness, contributing to what I call his "Benton County brawn."
The first time I remember seeing my husband, which was in law school, I was struck by his broad shoulders and impressed with the way he carried himself confidently into class. He was dressed in a navy suit and had a Jansport back-pack casually slung over his shoulder. "WHO--is that?" I spun around and asked my new law-school friend, sitting behind me. "Who?" my friend said with furrowed brow. I remember the urgency in my voice. I could see this man was different. "The guy." I whispered--"you know with the suit, the back pack and the longer hair." As my friend casually looked behind him, and looked back at me, he said, gesturing with his hands, "Who? John Farese?"
As my friend told me the mystery man's name it immediately had a ring --well, to me, it sounded like a rock star "John Fa-rese?" I repeated the name to my friend...."Yea. John Farese. I played basketball with him. He's a good player." And the rest....as they say...is history!!!
Other posts could include---riding around Jackson in LA's Caddy trying to spot this new Prince Charming.....unbeknownst to us, he lived a hundred feet from me at The Trace apartments. Ha!

And to think--a few days ago, leading up to Christmas I coldly rebuffed this darling man I call my husband. (Honey--I was as cold as Jack Frost....that's what riding the cotton pony through Christmas will getcha.....NOTTA! but this post ain't about me).

My husband is direct and honest. He does not mince words. John is rarely verbose, yet never at a loss for words. He is strong and protective, yet tender and sensitive. He is a wonderful husband and father. A good friend, brother and cousin. On my husband's birthday I want him to know how very, very special he is.
Thanks be to God I found you in Mississippi!!! Happy birthday honey.
p.s. Happy 40th to our dear friend John M....hope you have a special day, old man!!!

Thanks Willie...

As I walked through our bathroom to the laundry room THIS is what I encountered!

No. Growing up in Kentucky we didn't have lizards....or armadillos.

Yes. I jumped outta my skin when I saw him perched on our counter.

Clearly he (or she) are they asexual? Let's call it a 'he'--honey you know Mama lizard back at the ranch holding down the lizard-hole while this dude is runnin' around exploring. So. He is not that big, however, his presence was unexpected and I let out a shrill. Kids run in--"Mama what is it?" "Get me the broom" I say as I march toward the kitchen to the fetch the broom. The kids can't move quickly enough, I think, gotta do it myself--"Mamie can get it," my youngest declares. That's already crossed my mind. Our housekeeper-she picks them up by the tail and casually pitches him-or her-outside. I tried. I walked toward the lizard and took a deep breath.....and even reached for the long tail. Will his tail drop off? Or is that a chameleon? In my mind, I see myself holding the thin tail and the lizard wildly wriggling toward my wrist.....Nope. Can't do it. So I go for the broom. I hold the broom trying to get the small-minded beast to jump on. He races toward the corner of the mirror. I lay the broom out again, hoping he'll race up it and then I'll run outside....

He scoots to the edge of our counter....and then, incredibly, does a 'hail Mary' jump onto the bathroom floor. "Eeeeek" our children scream and run backwards to our closet. "Get in the shower" one of them screams. I'm stunned by the lizard's jump. Damn. Surely he's dead.

He wiggles around....and I begin sweeping him. If I can get him over the threshold and into the hallwayI think, we're almost outside. I give him a firm whack and he rolls into the hallway. As I scoot pass the door and get my broom ready for the next threshold....there stands our faithful dog Willie. Relief! Willie stands firm and looks at me....he senses tension, I see it in his stance.

I give the lizard a tap, "Look Willie," and Willie knows from the tone of my voice he has a treat. Willie braces his legs and eyeballs the little reptile.....before I can speak he pounces the lizard--I see the lizard wriggling--Willie readjusts his mouth and takes the green little varment outside.

Ahhhhh. Willie. Of course. Why didn't I think of him sooner.

I'm slightly embarrassed that I didn't just pick up the lizard.....what would Ma Ingalls have done? She could do it. My Appalachian ancestors could have picked it up--hell, they might have boiled it up for dinner.

I've been thinking lately about how comfortable life is today. I think of the struggles other generations of Americans have faced. I think of the suffering in other parts of the world. As a society and Nation we don't value the Blessings of freedom, of having plenty of food and shelter. When we're too hot we turn up the air conditioning and if we're too cold we turn up the heat. Gotta give a shout-out to hubby Buford T., who builds an exceptional fire and impresses me as a person who could truly live off the land. Me? I'd be fine, as long as I can bring Willie.

Ma Ingalls had a dog, I reassure myself. That's why pioneers had dogs--for protection and help as much as companionship. I'm not advocating we get a covered wagon, move out West and live in a yert, but I do want to be more intentional about counting my Blessings. Like our faithful dog Willie.

God Bless the USA

Jar your brain hussies and rehearse the lyrics:

from the lakes of Minnesota, to the hills of Tennessee [Southerners let out a "Wha-hoooo"]
Across the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A.
Well there's pride in every American heart,
and its time we stand to say.
That I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me.

Surely you know the rest. Today, on Veteran's Day, belt it out hussies.
In carpool, at the dinner table at bedtime discuss the importance of this day with your children.
I've been thinking this morning about Roy, Earl, John B. and Bill. Our grandfathers who served in WWII and faced the world's biggest challenge--who gave the ultimate sacrifice and never, ever thought their actions were extraordinary. Their wives, our grandmothers, married, delivered babies, and cared for families all under the threat and cloud of war.
The servicemen and women of our military, and their families, confront different dangers and extremism today but face them with the same unparalleled courage and unwavering resolve as generations prior.
We thank them.
We honor all those who serve and we remember all those who died serving.
Let's talk with our children about the importance of these men and women who serve in the military, and their families who continue to live life in their absence.

Sam and I want to give a special shout out to our James stepbrothers who served in the military, and especially to John who packed a gun on the streets of Baghdad, and his wife Tisha who also served in Iraq.

We want to give another special shout to our dear friends the Tannehills, whose Daddy, Rhea, has been serving in Afghanistan for 11 months.....you can go up to our 'Soul Sisters' list and click on thetannehillfamily and check out Robyn and Rhea's website. Robyn is one of my very best friends and I am so proud of the way she held up her precious family while Rhea has been serving in Afghanistan. And of course to Jack Rhea himself--a true patriot. Thanks be to God for men and women like you Rhea!

We also want to give a shout out to the ROTC chapter at Ole Miss. Our brother, Will, serves in the Army ROTC. He and his friends give us faith that the next generation of soldiers will protect and defend this great country with the same honor and courage as those who served before them.

We can't change the world Mommy Divas.
But we can educate & inform our children on meaningful topics like Veteran's Day.

7:00 a.m.

The digital clock in my husband's car (that I loathe) says 8:13. In fact, it reads 9:13 but I know it's actually 8:13 because of the time change, and of course I have no f-ing clue and no interest in changing the time.

So. I really don't even know where to start. But something tells me the beginning.
I'll start at the beginning but first you should know this is unchartered territory for me.
Writing on the computer, that is.

I pulled into my drive...
(side note: my mother just called my home number, "I'm writing my novella, can't talk." I tell her. "Whaaaat??! Mom says in her best that-sounds-like-a-waste-of-time-and-something-your-father would-be-doing voice. I laugh. "Call you back" I say hurriedly. I'm thinking gotta get this down--get 'it' out of my mind to go on with my day. "Byeee." Mom says and I hear the doubt and sarcasm in her voice.)

So. Unchartered territory. Not the writing but actually sitting down at the computer.

I pulled into my drive awhile ago, and I immediately began looking for a pen. I now keep paper in my car so I can record my thoughts. No pen. I look in console--ahhh, the broken $5 Book Fair purple pen....maybe I can put the pen part....and here's the top with all the fun big beads....no use. My purse. I pull the top of a pen.....and it's broken too. Fuck. I'm gonna have to walk IN the house. Fine.

I walk in the house and grab a pen. No messages, I glance at our machine. I walk outside and get back into the car.
Ahhhhh. My office. My make-shift office. My 'rolling' office--hah!

My favorite hobby is to sit in my car (or my husband's shitty Lexus) and write. I like sitting in my drive-in this office I have a panaromic view of my yard. Which calms me. Depending on the season, I see shades of green, or even vibrant purple when the red-bud trees are blooming. Today there are piles and piles of brown and gold crunchy leaves.

I'm in the car. Comfortable.
The anticipation of writing--uninterrupted is very satisfying.
I'm relaxed--finally! I reach for my notebook. Open it.....flip thru my recent writings to a blank page..... and at the top of the page write 8:13 a.m.

Wait.
Hold on hussy, I tell myself. This is 'beautiful mind' style writing.....again. You told yourself NO more. I mean, I know this is heaven--just sitting and recording your thoughts. And you've worked through a ton of smuck but come on.....the blog? Instead of writing this shit in another notebook.....just document it on the computer. That's why you agreed to do the blog. So you'd have an avenue to share and record your thoughts, impressions and all the crazy shit going thru your fucked-up mind.

All true.
Do you know yourself well. Do you listen to yourself, even when you don't want to??
Sometimes I do. And sometimes I don't. This morning I do.

The beginning.
7:00 a.m.
"Can you take them to school?" John asks. Damn, I think. "Sure." I say. I need to get to the office also and finish discovery for his Dad but.....John does a lot and yes, of course I can.

"Get your clothes girls. You're both old enough to pick out your own outfits."
We should be picking them out the night before. I know this. My fault.
"Girls this is why we pick them out the night before," I tell them.
They're not even listening, or maybe they are.

"He wanted to wear his Halloween shirt." John tells me as I survey the shitty outfit he put on our youngest. I kinda roll my eyes. "What?" John takes issue with my eye-roll. "Hell, he wanted to get himself dressed, it's not a big deal." John is making his case. That's the only thing about 2 lawyers....."Whatever." I say shortly.
I'm thinking of all the cute outfits in his drawers. Fuck it. No time. Not this morning.

Just 30 minutes agoI was sitting blissfully in my den--cup of coffee. It was 6:39 am.
Talking with John."This is one of my favorite things to do--have coffee in the morning with you."

And now...at 7:07 am I'm in the middle of a shit-storm.

"I want pancakes." My youngest says. "Mama, you said we would have pancakes."
No time. I think. Hell, I blew that off at 6:36--I had a choice. Get my ass up to make the cakes, or sit for a minute with John.
"Honey, we'll have them tomorrow." I tell him.
"Mama will make them tomorrow, son." John backs me up.

"Come on girls. Frosted Flakes ok?" I hurry them up. They are dressed.
Not a typical outfit. Cute though. My girls usually don't go for the pants with matching top.
Ahhhh, hell no. We gotta mix it up. They both look darling.
Something tells me I have played subtle role in this---after all, their Mama isn't a matchy, simple person either.
Hmmmm. Sorry 'bout your luck girls, I think.
I'm just complicated, I think. Sometimes.

"NO. I not wearin' those." My 3 year old defiantly tells his Daddy.
"Oh yes you are son. You are gonna wear the green ones." Tennis shoes, that is.
My youngest is in the middle of a full-blown meltdown.
My middle child goes over to console him.
"I want the BLUE ones....." he cries.
Our Daddy is being pushed. "Nope. You're wearing these." John slams his foot into the shoe.
More tears.
The girls finished with cereal have moved on. My middle child playing her Nintendo.
"Get off the Nintendo." John says. She doesn't move.
Ahhhh, hell. I think, listening in the kitchen.
"GET OFF THE NINTENDO" he yells.
He grabs the game, "You are grounded for a week from that thing."
A week? Hell, that's too long, I think. Mama doesn't say a word. Even I know now isn't the time.

7:17 am
Youngest still crying. I walk to car and find his blue tennis shoes.
"Girls, brush your teeth." I tell them.
"Are we gonna be late?" My middle child asks.
"YES!" John responds....."NO" I respond, at the same time.
"You should be leaving now," John says with full authority--like he's the gestapo.
"We're fine." I say.

We have moved onto the BLUE tennis shoes. John has put one shoe on.
"That NOT the right foot......" my son screams. "It hurts me...." More tears.
I walk over with the other BLUE shoe--"honey, yes it is." "NO," he screams.
A boot is laying nearby. "What about the boots?" Anything--for God's sake shut him up.
I know where the other boot is--I found it and washed it. The mat. Also don't forget the sleeping mat in the dryer. And his sleep friend. Kinda wet--the boot. I get the hair dryer.....

7:24
"Alright, y'all gotta go. I'm done....just take him. I'm not doing this anymore." John declares.
The boots don't fit. Damn, these kids have the biggest feet I've ever seen.
John's family. They get that from John's family.
"Girls go ahead and get in the car, please." I say.
My youngest in the floor crying. No shoes.
I scoop him up.....take him to the car and put on our seat belts.
Throw his shoes in the floorboard.
Ahhhh. Somehow Mama is the good witch this am. Ahhhhhh. I like it.

My oldest is dropped off without incident. "Do I have soccer tonight?" she asks. "Yes." I say.
Plenty of time, I think. On schedule.
"Honey, have a great day."
Can't do the spanish I think. It's just too much. No spanish lessons after school. But another language is important, I think. I dunno. But her regular schoolwork....and doing the 'select' soccer team. Just can't do it all.

I turn left to take my middle child to school.
"Mama, I have no breakfast." My youngest says from the backseat "Mama I hungry."
Oh shit. He's right. He never ate. GREat. "Ok honey, we'll get you something," I say.

Look at that beautiful yellow tree." I point, as we are stopped to turn down the street.
"When you were 4, you would've said, 'that tree lost its chlorophyll.' " I remind my middle child, who enjoys these stories. She smiles a big toothless grin.

"And," I continue,
(my daughter loves this, and I must rehearse these stories so I don't forget them!)
"you were 4 when you recited the entire Thanksgiving story." "I know Mama."
"In 1620 the Pilgrims left England for a new home" I continue in my best 'drama' voice.
And I'm thinking, this is MY favorite story about her and generally I love the Pilgrims....
"Ohhhh no. Did I just pass your school?!"
Damn. I did.
"Mama, yes you did. You passed my school. What are you gonna do?"
My middle child is distraught.
7:44 am
No way I can circle back around.
"NO ENTRY...." I see the sign as I turn right into the bus-only entrance.
I follow a white jolopy who is pulling up to the sidewalk.
Here come the teachers---waving wildly at us not to stop at the sidewalk.
My children are mortified. "Daddy never does this," she says.
Daddy doesn't give a shit about the Pilgrims either, I think.
I roll down the window. "You gotta park." The woman yells at me. Her face full of disgust.
I pull into a shaded no-parking spot....."Honey, I can't walk you all the way."
"Mama, just walk up here, you HAVE to." I hold her hand tight. We stomp up the sidewalk to the corner of the school...."Bye Mama" she says lovingly. "Bye honey."
Oh God. I see the bus pull up. I see John's Lexus and driver door open....surely he won't get out.
Surely. He's buckled in the car. He wouldn't get out to follow us.

Ok. "Let's go get you a biscuit." I reassure my son.
7:53 TExt from John Door locked. Love you.
My youngest quietly eats the sausage from his biscuit--not great for his tummy, I think. Oh well.
And drinks his milk. "Ahhh. All gone." He says. Damn, he was thirsty.
"I not go to school." he threatens. "Oh. Ms. Anne Fairley has so many fun things planned."
Still hasn't put on his shoes.

We drive up to the school. Ok. He's eaten.
The mat. Fuck. Later, I'll bring the mat later.
I look around for his shoes. The teacher has opened the car door.
"See his shoes, they are..." I'm straining to reach behind me.
"Wait!"- the teacher yells, "You're movin'...."
I look at the dash "R".....
I quickly reach for the gear and attempt to move the gear--my Iphone is stuck behind it....
I push the phone....I feel us rolling backward--I look in the rear-view mirror, shit!
Get the MFer in park, I think---the P, look for "P."
Ok.
"Sorry....my foot was.....I thought I had put it in park but...." I try and explain.
"No problem," the college-age girl smiles.
Hm-hum. She thinks I'm crazy.
Soooo f-ing cute, well just wait until YOU have kids, a husband and a mortgage, I think.
As I drive off I notice 2 ladies laughing--I know them. I like them both a lot.
Huh.
They saw me. I've become one of 'those Moms.' The bat-shit crazy ones??
Maybe they are laughing at me. Shit. I'd laugh at me.
I was inches from a full-blown catastrophe.....
What if I'd hit the accelerator on accident when in "R" and smashed the Director who was behind us......
Dear Lord.
I wouldn't of. I didn't. Everything's fine.

8:01
Exhausted.
Change this Radio Disney shit.
Ahhhhh. Peace. Enjoying the ubiqutous coffee (got me a decaf at Mickey D's).
As I drive home. I smile. I kinda laugh.
I review our crazy morning in my mind. Just life.
My life isn't perfect. God knows I'm not perfect. Sometimes it's just crazy and mixed-up. Life.
You can't even make-up this stuff.....
BLack Eyed Peas come on.... I turn it up....loud. I'm singing, loudly. Snapping my fingers.
Get out of the way!! I almost run over an elderly woman turning into the animal clinic.

I'm so thankful. And grateful. To be at this point in my life. To feel settled.
I'm now on our road.
My neighbor lost her dog a few days ago.
"Dog Found. Thanks, everyone." The sign in her yard reads.
I'm more than comfortable in our community. I'm home.
I pull up our driveway. There are piles and piles of brown and gold leaves.
I think about our community.
My husband. My church friends. My Mom-friends. My girlfriends. My in-laws.
They've given me more than they will ever know.
Freedom.
Freedom to define myself.
Freedom from the control of my parents bitter separation and divorce.
I want to share my experience. I look for a pen. The purple Book Fair pen, it's broken.
I walk into the house to get a pen.
I walk back to the car.
I sit. Looking out the windows of my rolling-office-hah!
There must be others who could benefit from my experiences.
Other people--women--who sometimes feel alone and isolated even in the midst of family and friends. Not all the time but occassionally.
People who carry the burden of grief, loss, rage or bitterness.....whatever the cause.
My heart is so full, I think.
My husband, my family and my friends gave me the love, strength and courage to let go of the bitterness and sadness. And of course, my God.
The day in the courtyard at Everyday Sisters.
I want the world to know 'the peace that passeth all understanding' is available to everyone.
To anyone.
I reach for my notebook.
I write at the top of the page 8:13 am.
Wait. No more 'beautiful mind' writing. I tell myself.
Today, I listened.
Thanks be to God!

Birthday Boy....

Happy Birthday to our nephew!!! Today--the 25th-- is his special day.

Our nephew who lives in Nashville--Sammy's little boy. (side note--we have another nephew who has a birthday coming up soon!)

We had a pre-birthday slumber party at Nana's (always fun!)
And birthday breakfast at Nana's.....with his cousins!
In fact, we got to spend the entire weekend with Aunt Sammy and her family. What a treat!
Nana & Big Woo are worn-ass out...but we all LOVED it....


I told our nephew how five years ago, when I got 'the call' from FL that he was on the way, my older daughter and I flew down to meet him. In fact, he'd heard this story before--"Aunt Muffin, YOU came down to see me." Yes we did.

My older daughter, who I took with me (she was just shy of 5 herself!), remembers only that Mama got pulled over on the way to the airport.
"Don't you remember how the beach was covered in shells?" I prod my oldest daughter, as I tell my version of our nephew's birth story. "Papa & Gigi were there, and we met them at the hospital. And stayed in the room next to them in the hotel. And he was such a big, pretty boy." I smile and tell my nephew and his cousins.
"Nahh." My oldest daughter responds matter-of-factly. "Mama, I just remember that police man pulling you over for speeding..... And also, Mama remember you hit that thing in the airport--our car hit that thing...." as she motions over-head.
"Yea." Of course I remember, I think.
I barrelled into one of those "clearance" bars. Obviously, the Birmingham airport was in dire need of renovation at the time--you never actually expect to hit one of those things....

Aside from cherishing the memory of being with my sister to welcome her first-born, and holding my precious nephew when he was just a day-old, want to know my other favorite part of Jonathan's birth story??

When I made the mad-dash to FL Buford T. graciously, and lovingly stayed with our second daughter, who was 2 yrs. 3 mos., at the time.

Upon my return from FL, 3 days and 2 nights later, Buford T. had single-handedly undone months of work and attention.
My second daughter was NO LONGER POTTY-TRAINED and she stuttered.
Yep.
It's true.

Further, Buford T. suffers from selective memory loss. He can remember the down and yardage in a 1988 football game against rival Magnolia Heights, but honey, don't expect him to remember the scenario I'm describing to you now.
In fact, it's likely that he will vehemently deny the aformentioned predicament.

MommyDivas you know the truth. That's why I love chatting with you.
In fact, you may have had a similar experience.
Mother knows best.

Running "Ninety-to-Nothin"

I first heard this particular phrase when I began practicing law.
My divorce client said, "Weez runnin' ninety-to-nothin."
What he meant to convey was that he was in a real hurry.
That he was running crazy.

The same client had a penchant for Southern slang.
To convey his deep and abiding love for another he would say, "I love her to the tenth power." Hmm. Well. We're good at math. You know, Southerners are reeeeealy good at math and some of us like to use our mathematics terminology in other situations.

So. Like my former client, I was runnin' ninety-to-nothin' last week.
(And, I love Buford T. to the tenth power!)

Between football, pumpkin-patch field trips, planning for supper club and general all-Hallow's-eve preperation, I expect to be runnin' ninety-to-nothin' for the next TWO weeks.

In fact, MommyDivas we'll be runnin' ninety-to-nothin' the REST OF THE YEAR!!!
It's true. You know it. I know it. We all know it. Let's make the best of it. Really.

I have NO choice but to put on a happy face....

If I stop to consider that all (let's be fair to Buford T) ok, not all but much of the magic to be made throughout the holiday season, including my precious daughter's 10th birthday tea party, falls squarely on my shoulders....well, when I think of creating all this 'magic' I want to run straight up I-65 to Franklin, KY, and let MY Mama handle all these events.
But I can't.....
Of course, I won't.
That doesn't mean I'm not tempted.
It doesn't mean my own Mama won't have a hand in some of the 'magic' that happens here.
After all, grandparents and family are part of the magic!

No hussies....I'm not Pollyanna.
I know the stresses and pressures motherhood places on us--especially this time of year.
But what other choice do we have? Give up? Hell f-ing no.

Happy faces girls.
We're goin' ninety-to-nothin' --fulfilling all the wonderful, joyful and sometimes painful roles that motherhood presents us.
It's our turn.

Cruella DeVille goes to the dentist...

The last couple of days I've been short with my husband. Hmmmm. Bitchy even?? My thoughts have gone something like this.......

Late meeting at church last night, as in 9:00 pm--ugh! Maybe too much church these days? Home to my loving family. "Did they shower," I ask hubby, with a hint of bitchiness (knowing that they ain't showered and just hoping they at least brushed their teeth). "Nah"--I cut my eyes to him--and make an' of course they didn't' face. "I mean they don't have to bathe every night," he says indignantly. Whatever, I think. Let it go. Just too tired. "What about their folders and homework--ya'll go over that?" I give him a chance at redemption. "Oh yea, yea....we studied." My darling husband lumbers back to bed.

Next morning--wild as hell, which is typical. I'm taking our 3 kids to school this am. "Mama you have to sign this if I'm gonna get pictures. School pictures is TO-day Mama," my middle child reminds me. They're dressed and ready, we picked an outfit, even managed to straigtening-iron the hair, and we're set for school pictures, and as we're racing out the door I have to drop everything (not the coffee, please not the coffee, by God I'm taking my coffee with me)....drop everything on granite counter to SIGN and FILL OUT the school pictures form. I can't do it in carpool line--too much, no pen....gotta do it here....."Mama we gotta go" my oldest child yells. "Hold on," I say, scanning form. Retouched--that's kinda cheezy--we always have leftover photos--which package--which f-ing package. Hubby walks in kitchen, "What are you doing honey" he says sweetly taking a big full sip of his coffee, "ya'll are gonna be late, you gotta" Before he could finish I look up from form and with my very bitchiest, mommydearest voice I say, "You didn't do the school pictures form last night?" "Get me the checkbook," I bark at him. Him who has made the school lunches, him who is the absolute love of my life, him who is a really, really good husband and Daddy. "The checkbook," I snarl. He hands me the checkbook. I'm writing furiously--you know for effect. Thinking-- I have to do everything--Mama has to do it, or it doesn't get done. Do I have to tell everyone what to do all the time......John is hurt. Borderline pissed. We exchange looks--BTW his looks are waaaay better than anything I can come up with. But I throw him one back--this isn't MY fault---we get in car--"Ok, you have the note honey, " I ask my oldest-she is going home with a friend. See I made sure she has a note......it's endless. And I'm frustrated because mornings are madness. Endless the things I do, everyday, many times a day with noone telling me what to do. I'm mad as hell (maybe at myself). The kids are aware. I slam my seatbelt--turn on the car--and fishtail outta my driveway like Cruella DeVille........
Carpool complete. Kids delivered. Calmed down. Necessary coffee now cold. As I drive up to my house, I'm hoping I will see John's car. Nope. He's gone. I'll have to apologize later.


SECONDLY---
Had a dentist appointment this am. My dentist is my brother-in-law--who I really adore. He removed a wisdom tooth that had a cavity. Jason told me since the wisdom tooth was "really small" I could just go ahead and remove it. The only thing I have to compare "really small" with is my children's teeth, so I envisioned a baby tooth......I was shocked to see my "small" wisdom tooth......that's not small at all!!! Now that I think about it--of course my children's baby teeth wouldn't be adequate for an adult. At the time I formed the opinion--and envisioned the baby tooth--I'd never seen an adult tooth. Jason, as a professional and a dentist, had a totally different perspective than I. This experience has really illuminated my thinking---about perspective. All of us do this each day.....we form opinions, thoughts and judgments about how a procedure will go--or how an experience will go---from our own perspective, which is not necessarily the most astute perspective........hmmmmm. Did I just say I'm dumb??