Archive for the ‘brain dump’ Category

Summer Brain Dump- June 18, 2014

Wednesday, June 18th, 2014

It’s midweek. It’s hot. I need to dump my brain. A few things you never needed to know:

1. Yesterday my beloved baby Jeep overheated and I am now the proud owner of a new radiator. I’d show you, but it’s under my hood and I’m a lady. So, no peeking, pervs.

photo jeep

2. Guess who’s wearing shorts from 2008? Me! Boom! Ah 2008,  a magical pre-pregnancy time when we said things like “Yes We Can!” and I was tanned and toned. There is hope ladies. We can wear them again. “Yes We Can!” (Notice I’m also wearing a baby from 2013.)

shorts pic

3. This week is Princess Camp for Charlotte which cracks me up, because she’s a 3 1/2 year-old girl. Her life is freakin’ princess camp. Today is “Frozen” day and she and Erin’s daughter, Miss E, were killing us with the twinsy cuteness.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Frozen collage

Share

Bus Driver- May 13, 2014

Tuesday, May 13th, 2014

magic school bus edited

Charlotte’s princess love runs deep. That’s typical for a 3 1/2 year-old girl. But, a new love has taken us by surprise. Love? Obsession? Call it what you will, but a new cartoon has become a huge part our lives. Actress Lily Tomlin’s voice fills our house and pipes out of my iPad everyday. Little Richard’s catchy theme song haunts my dreams. I sing his tune in the car and in the kitchen.

I hear, “Mama, do you want to play Magic School Bus?!” All. Day. Long.

For the uninitiated, “The Magic School Bus” is an animated series that originally aired on PBS in the mid to late nineties. It was based on a series of Scholastic books. It ran in syndication for awhile in the early 2000′s. All of this happened way after I was into children’s programming. I have Netflix and my step-brother, a well-meaning millennial uncle, to thank for introducing my daughter to this show.

Apparently Ms. Tomlin won a Daytime Emmy for her starring role as Ms. Frizzle. Ha! She’s got nothing on me. I play the role of Ms. Frizzle constantly. From the moment I am out of bed, through baby brother diaper changes, in the preschool carpool line, while I’m answering emails and even when I’m on the commode, I am Ms. Frizzle.

I hear, “Ms. Crizzle?! Ms. Crizzle?!” through the bathroom door. I say, “Yes, Ralphie?” You see, Ralphie is her favorite of the gang. I’m not sure why. He strikes me as the chubby slacker with his cap on backwards, but apparently she digs that. I then need to think of some adventure for this group of ethnically diverse tweens while incorporating elementary science education. Biology? Physics? Physiology? Climatology? Pick a concentration. I’m pretty proud of our trip “inside a flower” the other day. Without getting all “birds and bees” I successfully drove the bus through a flower, pointing out pollen, nectar, the stamen, the pistol, stem, roots etc. I should find my fifth grade teacher on Facebook and thank her.

I feel really guilty, but I must confess I’m getting pretty sick of it. It’s exhausting. I even suggested we play “Frozen” the other day for the millionth time, simply for a change of pace. Playing “Frozen used to be easy until Elsa froze something and the Magic School Bus slid on ice. I had to explain salt melts ice, not acts of true love. Charlotte knows that I am utterly repulsed by the episode where the bus gets into Ralphie’s bloodstream through the scab on his knee under his Band Aid. So, she loves to discuss that one. Gag. Some of the books we found at the library are over her head at age 3, so she focuses on the kids and their relationships.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE that she loves this show about science. It’s a really good show. It’s very educational.  I hear your argument, “Amy, we need to promote science and math to our girls!!!! STEM!!!! What is wrong with you?!?” I get that, but having to act it out all day is wearing me down. I don’t want to squelch her enthusiasm, but sometimes I need a break from driving the bus.

But, then she says, “Mama, my white blood cells attack the inflection!!!” ::sigh:: That bit of learning alone makes pretending to drive a bus through a scabby knee less gross. So, I’ll see you tomorrow on the bus, fighting “inflections” and doing my part for STEM education.

 

Share

The Face- April 25, 2014

Friday, April 25th, 2014

You know those moments when you can’t believe something so ridiculous is happening to you at that time? You know the ones. They make your face look like this:

photo 1 (4)

I’ve gotten better at controlling my face in recent years. I think it was all the crazy I interviewed as a TV news reporter going on only a few hours of sleep. The crazy trained me to control my face.

Three things lately made me make this face.

1. I was rushing to get both children out of the car and into the double stroller for my workout class. If you recall, I’m really trying to properly utilize the SAHM time by making sure I’m exercising. Plus, I’m paying for it, so let’s get this booty poppin’. Anyway, I was unloading the copious amount of crap that I haul around on a daily basis when I opened the passenger side door. That’s when I heard it fall.

One of Henry’s fancy $9 bottles rolled out of the car and hit the pavement. I knew it would roll. It was like slow motion. It rolled and spun like the basketball at the end of an after school special where a young teen overcame adversity to make the winning shot for the team. It spun right into the damn sewer! Of course it had a personalized bottle band wrapped around it too. Lord forbid my kids have anything without their names on it. Charlotte was very concerned that bugs would get on his bottle, not knowing it was gone forever. I was just glad I still had milk in the pump bottles and not in the sewer bottle. I made the face.

2. I came downstairs one morning after Greyson had already been up with Charlotte. I knew we were short on groceries, but I figured he fed her. Oh, he fed her. I glanced at the plate and thought it was peanut butter and jelly on a hamburger bun. I cringed. Not an ideal breakfast, but I had not been to the store. I only had myself to blame. Turns out, I had him to blame. I asked Charlotte what she ate. “Ketchup sandwich!”

He fed her ketchup on a hamburger bun for breakfast when I knew good and well there were some eggs in the fridge.  I made the face.

3. After one of Charlotte’s extracurricular classes recently, a visiting grandparent was chatting with the instructor. This overzealous southern woman explained to the instructor that she was from a small town. She told the teacher how wonderful it is that children in our city have opportunities like this class. The kind teacher smiled and said that she was from a small town in Michigan and understood.

Let me add here that the grandmother is white and the teacher is black. I feel I need to say that to give a frame of reference for the turn the conversation then took.

The grandmother looked at the instructor and said, “I’m originally from Mississippi. You know, my daughter was born at Jefferson Davis Memorial Hospital.”

The face! The FACE! I could tell the gracious instructor was trying not to make it too. Why, oh why would this woman feel she needed to add the tidbit about the hospital named after the Confederate general?! I can only assume that is  what this woman came up with because she doesn’t see many black people. I guess that’s what she came up with instead of blurting “I’m white, you’re black!”

That face had a little more to it:

photo 2 (3)

Please note that Jefferson Davis Memorial Hospital has been Natchez Regional Medical Center since 1993.

Share

Easter Digression- April 21, 2014

Monday, April 21st, 2014

Happy week after Easter! Or as I affectionately call it, “Ham Sandwich and Egg Salad Week.” I love Easter. I always have. I should say I love it because it’s the holiest day in the Christian calendar. It’s the day we commemorate Christ rising from the dead on the third day…blah, blah, blah. Our salvation…yadda, yadda.

I really love it for the clothes and the food. Sorry, it’s true. Ya’ll be sure to say an extra prayer for my heathen soul. Oh yeah, we also got engaged on Easter Sunday. That’s another reason I love it. My parents got engaged on Easter Sunday too, which was way more adorable before their contentious divorce. I digress.

You get to eat chocolate in the morning before church. There are dresses with sashes and seersucker bow ties. The family smiles in front of the azalea bushes for pictures. The ham is salty and sweet. Put it between a biscuit? Only if it’s hot and buttered, baby! Then there’s the chocolate eggs. Oh, sweet Cadbury, those are some scrumptious eggs!

One day I want my kids on the lawn of the White House for the egg roll. Can’t you picture Michelle Obama and I chatting about J Crew dresses and exercise for chubby kids while Malia and Sasha help Charlotte and Henry with their eggs? I can. The White House egg roll is kind of a bucket list thing for me. That, and eating a meal prepared by Chef Gordon Ramsay. Don’t judge! It’s my bucket list. I digress.

Easter this year was so wonderful! My sister and brother-in-law brought my nephew to spend three days with us. We may or may not have taken pictures of the baby boys in matching bunny ears. Remind me to bust those pictures out for their prom dates. That emasculation may delay their attempts at a prom night sexual conquest. There I go, digressing from Easter again. Sorry, Jesus!

Something that made this year extra special was Charlotte and Henry’s Easter clothes. My mom saved a dress that my Grandma hand smocked for me and I wore Easter 1985. My sister and cousins had matching outfits. We couldn’t find the bonnet, because I would have made Charlotte wear it. Not for long, though. No one likes stuff tied under their chin. I’m the tallest kid in the green.

Easter '85 collage

Charlotte wore the dress on Sunday.

Edited Easter '14 8

Greyson’s mom saved an outfit he wore as a baby, likely in 1975.

Edited Easter '14 10

I was overwhelmed with happy, warm love this weekend. Seeing my babies in these outfits was so special. I joke around, but I really love Easter because of family, tradition, faith and renewal. I hope your Easter was happy. Let me know if you know how to get on the White House invite list.

Edited Easter '14 6

 

Share

Penis Parties- April 7, 2014

Monday, April 7th, 2014

This weekend one of my best friends loaded her luggage in my Jeep and we took a road trip to the beach for the first time in awhile. Sara and I were off to celebrate another long-time bestie, Colleen. After a string of jerks  Colleen found Thomas. I knew when I met him that he was one. I was very fortunate to be able to go to the party since my aunt and uncle live a mile off the island. I was five minutes away from Henry if he needed me. It was the first night I spent away from my little 5-month-old.

photo (91)Kissing the bride.

Of the girls in our grade in the sorority, I was one of the first to get married. Let me assure you, I didn’t plan for it to be that way. Before I met Greyson I was convinced I wouldn’t get married until my 30′s. Love changes the best laid plans. It’s hard to believe it will be nine years this month. Colleen is one of the last to get married. We laugh about the differences between planning a wedding at 23 (me) and at 32 (her). For example, Colleen bought her own awesome Jimmy Choos to wear down the aisle because she makes her own money and she can. I didn’t ask my parents for Jimmy Choos since I was only two years out of college, poor and counting on them to pay for everything. I wouldn’t change anything, but don’t tell my parents or my husband that I do envy the maturity of Colleen’s wedding.

This is the only photographic evidence of my bachelorette party that I will share. It is edited to protect your fragile eyes. Yes, it is a blinking penis necklace.

bachelorette necklace

 

My party consisted of dinner, then a game of “Pin The Penis On The Hunk” and so many shots. So. Many. As each friend walked down the aisle, there was some ridiculous celebration or another. One girl wore a “Suck for a Buck” t-shirt covered in Lifesavers. For another friend we hid paper hearts with guys in bars and the bride had to go up to them and ask if they “had a heart on.” Some cowboy beefcake stripper boarded the party bus for my sister. The stories go on and on. All of these were during my twenties.

This weekend we had the privilege of staying at a family friend’s beautiful island mansion. We strolled on the dock, went out to a nice dinner and stopped at one bar. It wasn’t crowded. We danced for a bit, had a few drinks and were back at the house by 11:45. There was only one penis thing. A penis cake. This one had fondant and was baked by an actual chef. We laughed, remembering ten years ago when we bought some Betty Crocker mix and baked penis cakes for another friend.

I looked at Colleen’s happy face and realized this is so much better. We were silly college girls, then funny twenty-somethings and now we’re experienced. We’re wives, divorcees, mothers, professionals and still friends.

I looked at the cake and thought about that stupid blinking necklace and said, “You know, my relationship with the penis has changed now that I wipe a tiny one all the time.” The passage of time, penis by penis.

Share