Ree-wind

Yesterday was just - oh - I don't know how to explain what happened. Have you ever just looked up and found yourself in a completely weird situation and by the time the situation is Officially Weird, it's just too late to turn back? So, you just move forward into The Weird. Into Weirdland.

Yeah. That's what happened to me on Thursday night. I thought I was going Somewhere Normal and instead, I went to Weirdville.

Here's what happened: I accidentally stood in line FOR FOUR HOURS to meet a stranger who wrote a cook book.

You should know THAT I DON'T COOK. At all. In fact, I suck at cooking.

Why? Well, for starters, the author of the cookbook was Ree Drummond. Ree writes my favorite blog The Pioneer Woman. I love reading her posts about living on a ranch in rural Oklahoma and raising her 4 kids.

And guess I must be a Really Big Fan. I must be. Because that would be the only reason a grown woman would stand in line for THAT long. Right?

I think the best way to tell you about Friday night is chronologically. Yes. If you experience it in my timeline perhaps it will make sense.

Oh just kidding. I just doesn't make sense. It just doesn't.

But here's what happened:

We met at a local book store at 8pm. Pioneer Woman started signing books at 6:30pm - the way we figured 8pm would be the perfect time to jump in line. Right before the store closes at 9pm. We're very strategic like that.

Here we are at the beginning of the evening. Pre-STUPID.

Tralalala. We'll be outta here in NO time.

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And almost immediately after we arrived, Marlboro Man appeared and began making his way down the line autographing books. Who's Marlboro Man? He's Pioneer Woman's husband. He's a Real Live Cowboy. And a teeny tiny bit handsome.

Huh huh um uh. "Hi Marlboro Man - You're so pretty". Huh huh huh.
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Having The Cute Husband work the line was GENIUS! It was like that little hit of Gateway Drug to get you good and addicted. We were hooked. We wanted more!

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So we waited. At this point we could not even SEE the bookstore. But we knew it was up there somewhere.

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Did I mention my friend brought her 9 year old?

Why momma? Why?

That's her. Clinging to her mother and trying to understand our insanity.

And now is when we just stand there. For two hours. And we did nothing. And we were BORED and our feet hurt. And our books started getting heavy. And my hip was aching.

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Things were looking bleak.

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And then Jesus looked down from heaven and said These Girls Need Some Entertainment. And by and by he sent us something for our viewing pleasure. Something in the form of a man. A full-grown 22ish man wearing a suit. One of the only men in the entire mall at that hour. And he was walking quickly past the crowd in the opposite direction. Looking down. Trying to look Busy and Important.

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And then it happened.

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That Busy and Important Suit-wearing man FELL HEADLONG INTO THE FOUNTAIN.

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I swear I wouldn't make this up. KERSPLASH!!

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In front of 500 bored women with nothing to do but stare at him.

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Oh and it just gets better. He stands up WHILE STILL IN THE FOUNTAIN, and calmly removes his shoes and pours out the water. Then he slowly steps out of the water. Slowly replaces his shoes. And ever. so. slowly. walks away.

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Now imagine the crowd observing all of this. Imagine it. All those 30-50 year old women just standing there with their cookbooks. And imagine that all of them were uttering things like "Oh honey, are you ok?", and "Without the water running, that fountain really IS hard to see, sir".

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But then he just took too long. He moved too slow. He didn't do The Normal Embarrassment JUMP AND RUN action. The Run of Shame.

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So we began to laugh.

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Quietly at first. And then the roar began. My goodness. It was awesome!

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Thank you Jesus. We needed that.

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The Fountain Fall sustained us. Like rain in the desert.
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And finally, at 11:30pm we crossed the threshold into the actual bookstore. You read that right. I said ELEVENTHIRTY. P!M!

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Ten minutes later we saw the top of Ree's head.

Ree? Is that you?

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The feeling we got when we saw her is not unlike how I imagine Columbus felt when he finally saw land after all those months at sea.
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And here we are. At midnight. Our feet on The Line. The line that separates The Regular People from The Famous People.

Also, we wore cute shoes for her. Wouldn't you?

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And here we are. With Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman herself. And just look at her. She'd been sitting at that table for SIX HOURS talking to people and signing books. And she still looks amazing.

In fact, she spent time talking especially to sweet little Emma Grace. She even swallowed her up in a big 'ol Mommy Hug.

And that is how it happened that grown women stood in line for four hours to meet a stranger to sign a cookbook and all of them left saying:

"THAT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT."

The end.

Why? Just: WHY?

Do you ever see something and just scratch your head and wonder: what were they thinking?

Like, today, when I passed the display for The Snuggie in Walmart:

Who thought this up? What were they thinking?

The display had a picture of a full-grown man sitting at a baseball game all Snuggied Up. Can you imagine ANY man willing to wear his Snuggie in public?

Or perhaps I'm naive. Maybe there are men out there already sporting a Snuggie in public. Maybe. But I doubt it.

Then I spoke with my friend Susan this afternoon. She'd just received a blanket in the mail.

Oh don't worry - she didn't get a Snuggie. No, this is even better.

Behold:

That there is a picture of her DECEASED mother. On a blanket. A full-sized blanket. A gift from a relative. Can you imagine?

Because nothing says I love you and respect your memory like a country blue throw for your divan.

After I stopped laughing, I spent 20 minutes BEGGING Susan to place the blanket on her bed and exclaim to her husband that she'd feel so loved having HER MOTHER cover them up while they sleep.

She said she couldn't do it with a straight face. Dang!

And in the vein of What Were They Thinking, take a look at Paige's cute little Halloween shirt:

The teachers at her Mother's Day Out program made each child a shirt last week. The shirt has little black spiders made out of the child's handprints.

Awwww. Isn't that CUTE?! I know! Adorable!

So this morning, I dressed my little gal in her new shirt and off she went to Mother's Day Out. When I picked her up, the teacher mentioned that Paige was very cranky about having all that paint on her bottom.

?????

Look at the picture again. See those pumpkins on the shirt? Yeah. THOSE ARE HER BUTT CHEEKS!

They dipped her bottom in paint, people! At Mother's Day Out. And they put her bottom on a shirt. To wear IN PUBLIC.

What in the world were they thinking? Seriously.

Nevermind the Fecal Festival going on in THAT paint tray... how could they possibly think this was an excellent idea?

Bless their hearts. They're sweet ladies. They really are.

But what were they thinking?

I mean honestly, I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve... but your butt on your shirt?

Now I Know What Momma Was Talking About

Usually when I'm dropping my kids off to spend time with my momma, I'll apologize for runny noses and the inevitable stinky diaper.

She always smiles and says - sincerely - "I don't mind".

Until today, I was convinced she was lying.

Today was my first day back in The Real World. You know, the world with runny noses and stinky diapers. And after 4 days away from these children, I couldn't wait to wipe their noses. Couldn't wait to change Paige's diaper.

I found myself loving every single minute of caring for these children. I realized what an awesome and fleeting gift it is to mother small children. It is our instinct as women. To care for someones needs. And we enjoy this for such a short time in our lives. Then they learn to do it all themselves.

I can see why being a grandparent - a grandmother especially - would be a lovely way to experience that again.

Even to wipe a small child's nose must feel like a privilege.

I Need to Get Out More

Well. We're home.

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Home from Seaside, Florida. You know, Utopia. Heaven on Earth. That place.

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Yes, today we dragged our tired asses out of bed at 4:30am for a 7am flight. We arrived in Dallas at 9:30.

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Dallas was cold. And foggy. And raining. And GRAY. So very gray.

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No Dorothy, we're not in Florida anymore.

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Then we drove the two hours from Dallas to Dave's hometown to pick up the kids. About 20 minutes out I started to ache for my babes. I couldn't wait to see them.

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When we walked in the door they looked simultaneously BIG - like they'd each grown 7 inches - and also so very young and tiny. And perfect. So perfect.

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Oh. And LOUD. Wow. Kids are loud, people! Did you know? The squealing and the screeching and the yowling. So. Very. Loud.

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After we squeezed them and sniffed them and loved all over every single inch of them, we began the backbreaking process of packing them up for the long drive home. Suitcases, car seats, blankets, food for the trip, toys...

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Kids require so much stuff! Did you know this? Again, Wow.

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When we arrived home, we had to unpack. Ourselves. Them. Everything. Gah! So much work! Children are hard work!

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Especially after spending 4 days doing nothing but eating Key Lime Pie and drinking wine.

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Tonight we decided to take our family out to eat dinner. While we were waiting for our food, William asked if he could chew a piece of gum. Let me say that again: He asked for GUM.

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Oh, I know what you're thinking. Big deal. But it IS. His therapists used to beg this boy to try gum. A technique for calming his mouth down so he could concentrate on fine motor skills. He wouldn't do it. It freaked him out. All that chewing with no swallowing? No thank you. I'll pass.

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But 4 days with Gramma and he's smacking gum like a 1940's telephone operator.

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As Dave and I sat there in stunned silence watching our! boy! chew! gum!, Paige grunted. She was indicating that she wanted a bite of food. I leaned over, handed her a tortilla, and... and... oh I can barely type this it's so exciting... SHE SAID THANK YOU.

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Oh you heard me. Oh it was more like "kanck kooo", but I got the idea.

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4 days with Gramma and Granmpa and SHE HAS MANNERS.

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Oh, and THEN... THEN, during dinner, Paige seemed to want to hold the fork herself. So I let her. AND SHE FED HERSELF. Corn. She fed herself corn. All by herself.

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What did these grandparents DO with these children while we were gone? Did they hire a staff of personal trainers, therapists, and life coaches?

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Paige and I left the restaurant first and I was literally gobsmacked when I saw the sky. The sunset was magnificent this evening.

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So, I did what any mother would do, I plopped my 16 month old down in the parking lot of Pablano Grill and took her picture. If you look closely, you can even see little kernels of corn scattered all over her shirt.

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Feeding oneself is not pretty. At least not at first.

As I look at this picture I realize, we did get to bring a little piece of Utopia back with us.

I can't imagine the sunset could have been any more beautiful in Florida this evening.

All Good Things

Well. It's time to start packing up. We leave Utopia at 7am.

**sniff**

Yep. Back to The Real World.

The one with laundry that needs washing, and tall grass in need of mowing, and children with bottoms needing wiping. And toilets that need scrubbing. And cars that need pooling.

You know. That world.

And as much as I'll miss this cozy beach town in Florida, what I'll really miss is uninterrupted time with my husband. THIS is exactly how we lived for seven years before we had children. We did everything on a whim. What to eat for dinner? Well, we'll just head out the door and decide on the way.

Heh. Can you imagine? Now we have to plan our meals FAR in advance. Restaurants are chosen for their children's menu and their "loudness" factor. You know - so that when our child begins to screech and howl she'll just blend into the already tumultuous background . Oh, and we must pack in advance. I bring an entire back of toys/games/finger foods just to entertain them while we wait.

Nope. Life is not as simple.

But it sure is good.

My goodness, I sure do miss those little babies. I cannot WAIT to get my hands on them tomorrow. Squeeze their little faces and bury my nose in their hair.

I'm so excited to see them. BUT. But I'm also mindful of my marriage. My connection to my sweet husband. Our time together was glorious. And quiet. And peaceful.

In fact, we neared BOREDOM people. Did you hear me? I said BOREDOM! I don't think we knew what it was at first. IT'S BEEN SO LONG!

I wish I could pick up our time here and just put it in my pocket. Take it home. Save it in a little glass jar and dole it out for us on the days we really need it.

So tell me something, dear Internet...

What do YOU do to stay connected to your spouse? Do you do weekly date nights? Do you have a special TV show you watch together? Do you polka-dance on Tuesdays? Do you braid each other's hair on the weekends? What? Tell me!

And please don't say I go to a Utopian-Like-Beach-Town, because who has time for THAT?

In Which Pictures of My Day Leave You Slightly Nauseated

So. Internet. How'd you spend YOUR Saturday?

Huh.

Wanna hear what I did?

I did nothing. You heard me. Nothing. Ahhhhhhh Sweet Nothingness of the Nothing.

There's really Something to this Nothing.

This morning, we walked 5 minutes to the Seaside, FL town square. We ate breakfast outside. We smelled the ocean.

Then by and by when we'd tired of eating and sniffing oceans and doing that kind of Nothing, we rented a couple of beach cruisers.

Bike riding is a new form of Nothing. And while doing Biking Nothing, we stumbled onto this chapel (a Seaside landmark).

And since we recently watched this on youtube, we decided to re-enact several of the choicest moves.

Don't worry. We were alone in the chapel. At least we thought we were.

As we were leaving, I noticed a surveillance camera. Hey! Maybe you'll see US on youtube soon!

Then Dave entertained me with his Mad Beach Cruiser Skillz

Behold:


After taking these pictures of Dave performing the Bunny Hop on the bike, I laid down on the ground and laughed the kind of laugh where no sound comes out. That kind of laughing. On the ground. In the road. Hooooo doggie. A 37 year old man on a Beach Cruiser doing tricks.

If that doesn't make you laugh, you're just dead inside.

Then we came home and decided on a new kind of Doing Nothing. We played cards. I let Dave win several times. I'm charitable like that.

Then we went to the beach at sunset. Sweet Nothing.
And I made Dave leap. No reason. I just like to boss him around when we're Doing Nothing.

We're having a horrible time here. It's awful. Terrible. We hate it.

Can't you tell?

Fall Fashion Foto Week - Day 5

Oh boy. I'm starting to miss my babies. I just heard a newborn crying and I think I might've begun lactating again. This is serious.

Would you look at these dumplin's?

But hoooo doggie. We're having a peaceful time here in Utopia. Those babies are just going to have to wait.

*Special message to my Mother-in-Law: you have 60 hours left - please don't sell the baby to the gypsies. I know it's tempting, but I swear I'll be back to get her soon. Oh, and THANK YOU. (again)

As part of our perfect-day-in-a-quiet-beach-town we went to dinner with some locals. Our friends said not to wear anything fancy. No one gets dressed up in a beach town.

So, I wore this:
Crisp white shirt from Walmart. Cropped $9 jeans from Walmart, $9 flats from Target, and $80 chunky pearl necklace from Talbots.

As I type this, I'm thinking SERIOUSLY? I spent more on my faux pearl necklace than I did on my entire outfit?

Also, I shop mostly at Walmart for CLOTHING? Oh my goodness.

This Fall Fashion Foto thingy has revealed much about me. Since having children, I refuse to buy myself expensive clothing. I always assume my size will change. I'll be thinner next year - I shouldn't spend much on clothes. This clothing is TEMPORARY CLOTHING.

Hmmmm. Funny thing is, I'm the same damn size I was this time last year.

Go figure.

Fall Fashion Foto Week - Day 4

Before I show you my outfit for today, I need to give you some background.

First of all, I'm on vacation today. And I really love to go on vacation.

BUT I TOTALLY HATE TO TRAVEL.

Seriously. I left my house this morning at 9:30am. I arrived at my quaint beach cottage at 9:30pm. I damn near could've driven here. Or perhaps walked. I'm exhausted. And a tiny bit cranky.

Of course, my crankiness may stem from my neighbor on the airplane. You see, my husband was unable to book our seats together on the plane. But that was no problem. I love to read.

I'll just read for two hours. That seems like a little bit of heaven to me, actually.

Reading for two whole hours? Yes. Heaven.

Oh, but then I was seated in the window seat. Next to me (in the coveted aisle seat) was a Very Large Man. A very large man infected with the most intense case of the flu I've ever seen. Or perhaps it was Ebola. Hard to tell.

His eyes were glassy. His skin was so white it was almost gray. And he coughed and coughed and coughed and coughed. At one point his entire lung flopped right out and conveniently landed in the seat back pocket. I bet no one will want to read THAT Skymall Magazine.

With all this in mind, please do not judge my end-of-the-day-survived-Ebola outfit:

See that scarf? Yeah. I BREATHED INTO THAT SCARF FOR TWO HOURS ON THE PLANE! Because I didn't have one of those handy surgical masks. And rubber gloves. And a full body condom. All I had was my scarf. My scarf may very well have saved my life today.

I'm also wearing my favorite Gap black tee and my Gap denim jacket. I've owned them for approximately EVER. And I love them so.

Oh, and those shoes? They're Keens. And if there are shoes in heaven, they'll be made by Keen. They're that comfortable. Perfect for airports.

And for running away from nearly dead men on airplanes.

I must run now and boil my entire body in rubbing alcohol.

Fall Fashion Foto Week - Day 3

Yeah, you read that right. It says Day 3. And no, I did not participate on Day 1 or Day 2. I don't know why. I just didn't. So stop asking.

What IS Fall Fashion Foto Week? Oh I don't know. Go here and read all about it. I'm just participating because my friend Emery drove over to my house, stood on the back of my neck and made me swear I'd do it or she'd bite my nose. She is so very mean. And tough. And violent.

Oh not really. I just wanted to be a joiner.

I'm pathetic follower like that.

So here's my outfit for today.

I am soooo good and taking self-photos, no?

I met a friend for lunch at Cheevers. I wore a fun cable-stitch sweater from Forever 21, new $9.00 crop jeans from Walmart (with extra tummy slimming for old ladies young vibrant girls like me), and $9.00 leopard-print flats from Target.

As I write this I'm realizing I spent more on lunch than I did on my entire outfit.

What does this say about me? That food is more important than fashion?

By the size of my tummy-in-need-of-slimming-jeans, I'd say definitely.

Gratitude

I have spent today getting things ready for a vacation. I'm accompanying Dave on a business trip and his sweet parents have agreed to keep our kids FOR FOUR DAYS. Can you believe?

These grandparents clearly have no idea what they're getting in to. And I'm not going to tell them. No No No. Not until it's too late for them to back out.

**maniacal laughter**

You see, I really need to get myself out of town. I can't wait to spend some time with Dave all by myself. What will we do with ourselves without small people clinging to our pant legs?

Wait. Don't answer that. This is a PG-type blog, people.

So today I've been washing clothes and buying supplies in preparation for the kids' trip to Dave's hometown. And as I'm wont to do, I'm feeling nervous about this whole traveling endeavor. I'm nervous the kids will be naughty. I'm worried they'll get sick. What if someone is injured? What if my airplane crashes and my orphaned children must be raised by wolves in the Australian outback...

Oh dear, you can see how my mind can just spin slap out of control. *Also, ARE there wolves in the Australian outback?

So to calm my anxiety, I've been keeping a little mental list of all the things in my life on this very day to be grateful for. This always helps me. You should try it sometime.

I'm grateful for our sweet friends who came to dinner last night.

They are expecting their first child this month. I loved visiting with them. You know, before their lives are torn apart then ever so slowly stitched back together to include a third party.

And I think Jami is going to be a fine fine momma. Just look at her.
My kids would certainly agree. Poor gal is 36 weeks pregnant, but that didn't stop Paige from trying to sit in what remains of her lap.
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I'm grateful for the little Halloween card that arrived today for William.

Inside William found Five! Whole! Dollars! from Nana and Poppa. Which meant that we had to race straight out after dinner to spend William's loot.

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Check out his purchase:

A complicated Lego critter for kids AGES 6 AND UP. Uh oh. He's only FIVE. Whoops!

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Which means I can't forget to be grateful for Dave.

The man sat patiently at the table with William until The Critter was built. That Dave. He's a good doobie. Yes he certainly is.

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And finally, I'm grateful for Emery. She took one look at my old blog design and decided I needed a seriously face lift. So she did just that. In about 6.4 seconds she'd created the background you see before you. That is just how good she is.

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Isn't it adorable?

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I feel so fancy now! Like a legitimate, bona fide, serious blogger. Well, as serious as a blogger can be when the subject matter consistently includes snot and poop references.

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I am grateful. Truly. Thanks Emery!

Rewind

Oh Internet. I've been keeping something from you. Something so adorable that I cannot, in good conscience, keep to myself any longer.

Here's the deal - Last Saturday night we erected an enormous movie screen in our back yard.

Behold:
See little William standing there on the left? Yep. I told you it was enormous.

And I know an enormous movie screen isn't adorable. But then we added a whole bunch of pint-sized Jedi Warriors. That's where the adorable comes in.

We invited our little friends and neighbors over for a showing of Return of the Jedi.

And our little friends were a teeny tiny bit excited. Yes they were.

We ate pizza and the mommies and daddies drank copious amounts of margaritas.

And all the little boys brought their own light sabers so that they could do battle while watching The Best Movie in the Whole Wide Earth (if you're five years old, that is).

Oh my, and here they are all drunk on The Force:

See? I told you it was adorable.

I would've been wrong of me to keep this from you any longer.

You. Are. Welcome.

That's Mrs. Bono to You

Dave and I traveled to Norman this evening with 80,000 other U2 fans to enjoy a nice outdoor concert. I expected it to be a good show. A DANG good show, really. Mainly because I could have bought 5 pairs of very nice shoes for what we paid for the tickets. For that price, they'd BETTER give me a good show, dang it!

Also, I'm a pretty big U2 fan. I have all their music from the 90's. And I happen to believe Joshua Tree is the Greatest Album Ever.

OH MY STINKIN' HECK. These dudes did NOT disappoint. I swear I'm high on Dr. Pepper and Live music. Is that possible?

Dave and I both agreed it was the very best concert we've ever seen. Period.

Here we are right before showtime - breathless with anticipation:

And here are a few blurry images of the stage - a 100 foot monstrosity that looked like a giant space tarantula.

More tarantula.

Oh Internet, when Bono (the lead singer) came on stage to sing Where the Streets Have no Name I made the decision to follow him to the ends of the earth, marry him, and perhaps make children with him.

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Boy, I'm really going to miss Dave.

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I bet he wishes he had just bought me those 5 pairs of shoes.

Booger Burglar

Ok, Internet, I need parenting advice.

Today, I caught my 5 year old boy blowing his nose in his blanket.

I'll say it again: HE WAS BLOWING HIS NOSE IN HIS BLANKET. As in, blankie instead of tissue. A Booger Blankie.

Hooooo doggie I was angry. And horrified. And totally grossed out.

I told him to march his bottom downstairs to the laundry room. There we made a big deal out of putting all his bedding in the washing machine. Then I told him he would not be allowed to sleep with his special blanket tonight. His special blanket being a small infant-sized blanket that he has taken to calling his "lovie".

And to say he loves his Lovie would be Titanic understatement.

So, by and by, bedtime arrived and The Lovie was banned from bed for the evening.

My goodness, he cried like someone had died. Oh the tears. The moaning. All from a kid who isn't much for drama.

Folks, it was a scene.

And I find myself feeling guilty. Did I go too far? Did the punishment fit the crime? I mean, it's only ONE NIGHT for heavens sake.

Still. He was so sad.

I'm feeling like a cross between Cruella Deville and The Wicked Witch of the East, here.

What do you think? What would you have done?

A Cautionary Tale

Oh dear Internet. You would not believe the state of hysteria my city is in this fine day. Why? Because our college football team - the University of Oklahoma - is playing their arch rival tomorrow - the University of Texas.
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And tomorrow is a day that the fine citizens in both states plan their entire fall season around.

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I'm not kidding. In fact, I guarantee there isn't a single couple getting married tomorrow in Oklahoma or Texas. They wouldn't dare. No one would come to the wedding. This game is THAT important around here. .

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Take this picture, for example:

I found it floating around Facebook today. Yes. That is Osama Bin Laden. And yes, that is a University of Texas longhorn on his shirt. And yes, that's just how much folks around here hate the rival football team.

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And I had NONE of this in mind when I dressed William in an orange shirt this morning.

OMG! I received unrelenting grief at lunch with mom today. Holy hell people! So it's an orange shirt... so it happens to be the color of the Texas jerseys... what is the big deal?

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My god, this was serious social faux paus. Imagine wearing a white linen dress with black underwear and open toe shoes with pantyhose. IN THE WINTER. That, my friends, is how bad this fashion mistake is.

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An orange shirt on OU/TX weekend? Well, this kind of thing is just NOT DONE 'round these parts.

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Thank heavens I accidentally dressed the baby in red - the team color for Oklahoma.

This might have been the only reason the angry mob let us out of the restaurant alive.

And To Top Things Off, I Thought Today Was Friday

My daddy used to say he had several good tantrums left in him, but no one left who'd put up with them.
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Today did not go my way. And I swear to you, if I thought I could get away with it, I'd lay down right here and have a big 'ol wall-eyed tantrum about it. Yes I would.

Today, my friends, I had Plans. My Plans involved showering and blow-drying my hair and having lunch with other adults at my favorite restaurant. My Plans were goooooood.
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And then they closed Mother's Day Out. THE NERVE!
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No problem. I'll take the baby with me to lunch. I am nothing if not flexible. And agreeable to change. Yes! No really!

Oh, ok, I hate change.
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Get this! And then the baby decided today would be the day she'd drop her morning nap. Which means lunch would involve the hellish wrangling of a tired and cranky nap-less one year old.
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So I cancelled. I didn't go. I didn't go to my favorite restaurant. At ALL.
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Instead I stayed home and cried. And ate cookie dough. Raw cookie dough. And It was delicious. And I'm sure it will contribute nicely to the shape and size of my bottom.
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And when I was right in the middle of a Very Impressive Pity Party, I received 2 phone calls from mothers ducking out of their volunteering responsibilities for our school carnival this evening.
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Which meant that I - The Homeroom Mother - would have to step in and fill their shoes.
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Good news is: I was already in the swing of my Pity Party, so I just extended it a bit.
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Your kid has the swine flu and you can't come tonight? No problem, I have some cookie dough right here that will make it all better. Well, for me anyway.
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Oh don't worry. I got up, dusted myself off, and got on with things. I managed to apply mascara, feed my family, and then I went on to serve at the carnival for 3 hours. I painted the fingernails of half the damn kids at that school. And I spray painted their hair.

But I was pretty grumpy about it.

At least at first. Then I started noticing all these adorable kids. And their doting parents. So sweet.

And then I noticed the not-so-adorable ones. The ones who didn't looked like they were cared for. The ones who'd been dropped off at the school alone. They were the ones who hung around and wanted their nails painted a SECOND TIME. Just because they were bored and lonely.
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My heart was broken.
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And also renewed. It made me so grateful for my own kids. My family*. My dear friends. My life.
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It may be unpredictable. Things may not go my way. But damn. It's beautiful.

I guess I don't need to throw that tantrum after all.

Lucky You.




*A special thanks to my mom and Ron who drove the 40 minutes during rush hour to be here for the carnival. Especially to mom to stayed with BabyCrankyPantsWon'tNap so that I could do my Homeroom Mothering in peace.

In the End, It's All About the Shoes

Tonight Dave and I attended a lovely banquet honoring a lovely man in a lovely venue. We sat with lovely people and we ate lovely food.

The evening was lovely.

And nothing makes me happier than having an excuse to get dressed up and go out with my husband.

Well, almost nothing. I also love a nice massage. But let's not get into that just now.

Tonight, I wore a black sheath dress and a big chunky pearl necklace. I looked like Michelle Obama. Only very very very pale. Oh, and I don't have good looking arms. And I'm not that tall.

Oh forget it. I didn't look like Michelle Obama at all.

But I did get to wear some gorgeous shoes. Black patent leather wingtip-inspired pumps by Isaac Mizrahi.

They were hand-me-downs from my dear Tulsa Susan. I just love hand-me-downs. I have no shame in re-wearing someone else's cast off garments. I'm cheap that way.

William also appreciates a nice black pump.

Exhibit A:


I will be sure to remind him when he's grown that his first pair of wingtips had a 4 inch heel.

Fly Away Little Coat. Fly Away!

We had a contest here last week. Remember? The Coat of Many Colors?

And we here at Me & My Shortloffs have a Very Sophisticated System for picking contest winners.

Observe:

Yes. Our methods are very sophisticated. The Contest Winner Picker cannot even properly count to seven. Nice.

Ah well. Congratulations Jessica at Overflowing Bookshelf!

Email me with your address and I'll get this gal in the mail to you PRONTO!

ritaortloff@gmail.com

A Little Story About William

I started this blog on June 1st, 2009. Folks had been bugging me for months to please write down those hilarious stories about your son! He says the funniest things!

And I did that. Right here.

At least I thought I did. But I forgot one. Sorry, Internet.

This little story takes place when William is 2 1/2 years old.

He looked like this:
Let's take a moment and observed that hair. My goodness. He was the cutest toddler ever, was he not?

Alright, let's resume our story:

We were bored on a cold winter day, so we ventured out to the local mall. This particular mall has a squishy playground made just for teeny kids. The floor is even padded. There are benches surrounding the playground for the tired mommies to sit. We visited this locale often. Because, well, we were bored often.

On this particular day we'd been there only a few minutes when another mother arrived with her child. The child was, oh, maybe 14 months old. Little. Chubby. Unsteady on this feet.

Oh, AND he had the most impressive mohawk I've ever seen. On anyone. Ever. The sides of his head were completely shaved bald, and the hair down the middle was spiked with copious amounts of hair gel. Hair gel. A Mohawk. He was 14 months old.

I wondered, who does this to a wee child?

And then I saw his mother. She was very young. And big. And ROUGH. Mean looking. I immediately determined that she could kill me with a single punch.

And then I saw it: William was looking the Mohawk Baby up and down. I was terrified! What if he made a disparaging comment about this kids wacko mohawk! His mother would surely kill me. With one punch!

But alas, William stared for a long minute, then went about playing as normal. I breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

Several minutes later Mohawk Baby dropped his pacifier. William picked it up and in his kindest voice said "HERE YOU GO LITTLE DINOSAUR".

Que Pasa?

At bath time tonight we learned that our boy is bilingual.
Hey daddy! I can count to five in Spanish!

Uno...
Dos...
Tres...
Cuatro...
Venus

I plan on writing to Dora the Explorer immediately to let her know she has failed my child.

Where Did THIS Come From?

My alarm went off at 4:20 this morning. Yes. You heard me. I said 4:20am.

Why? Well, apparently, I thought it would take me twenty five minutes to put on my tennis shoes and walk the eleven steps to neighbor Susan's front door.

I clearly have no concept of time management. Or reality. Or distance.

Or perhaps I just thought it would take a very long time to tie shoes at that ungodly hour.

I went next door at 4:45am to take care of Susan's adorable boys. You see, Susan had to dash off to the airport. Where she would then catch a plane to Napa Valley. You know, so she can drink wine with fabulous women all weekend. Wine! With other adult humans! In the Valley of The Nappas.

Mmmmm. Napping. That sounds nice. Oh wait. Where was I?

Right. I was on a jealous diatribe. Let's continue.

No problem Susan, I'll just be here, un-showered, in my yoga pants wiping noses and making conversation with my Small People who only want to discuss the many layers of Star Wars and the differing smells and sounds of the human bottom.

I'm not jealous. No. Not at all.

By noon I'd been awake for 8 hours, but sadly looked exactly the same as I did at 4am. Maybe even a bit worse. However, my kids looked especially adorable today.

So, naturally, I made them pose for pictures.

William didn't mind.

Today is a special Uniform Free Day at school. Uniform! Free! Day! It makes William so happy he does spontaneous Jazz Hands. Yes it does.

And baby Paige politely posed for me. Well, sort of.

To be honest, I had to use a hand puppet and a tricky little peek-a-boo dance to get her to smile. I'm nothing if not a resourceful photographer. Also, I have no shame.

And as I was editing these pictures this evening, I noticed the most unbelievable amazing astounding thing:

OMG! SHE'S NOT A BABY ANYMORE! SHE'S A GINORMOUS TODDLER!

,

When did this happen? Seriously! Yesterday I was breastfeeding this lump of flesh that had the personality AND shape of a nice rump roast. NOWWOULDYOULOOKATHER?

.

I seriously hope I'm just seeing things. Yes. That's it! I'm SEEING THINGS. I'm sure lack of sleep is affecting my perspective.

.

I can't wait to wake up in the morning and snuggle my Teeny Tiny Itty Bitty Newborn Baby Girl.

.

Because that's what she is. And don't you be telling me anything different.