Welcome Summer

I am so behind on posting, which is a shame because I have so many things to share. But here's what has been keeping me away:

1. Emma just graduated from elementary school. A busy last week.
2. The first two days of summer went fantastically. We started Mommy Summer School, made lists of proposed field trips and projects, I felt quite productive. Then
     a. Laura came down with Fifth's (that awful rash and fever)(and p.s. doesn't she know the rules?     You don't get sick during summer! Only during the school year!!), and now
     b. Jack has his first stomach flu. We have changed his sheets three times, he has a terrible fever, and he has never thrown up before so he feels so confused and scared. I wrapped him up in a snuggly blanket and rocked him back and forth in the rocking chair and sang to him whatever came to my mind. Poor baby. Which always makes me want to have snuggly babies and toddlers forever because they are too young to have stinky feet or gross stuff yet.

So I am here, we are here. Just limping into summer a bit. But that's okay.
Happy Summer to you, too!

My kids as hamsters on our fist day of summer.

In which Jack discovers Halloween

The rundown:



A cool witch (are we now into the "cool" costumes? ugh.) and a zombie 80s prom queen.

A puppy.

He does not have the point of Halloween yet. Right now he is just annoyed. Just wait for it Jack. Your little toddler self has no idea that your dreams are about to come true.

Trunk or Treat.
It was hot out there.
I started the night out taking Jack to one of the cars. I had him say "Tick oh teet." Then he got a piece of candy. By the time we got to the third car he had this look on his face like, So.... I walk to a car and they give me a piece of candy? And that's it? Seriously? I don't know what is going on, but my little toddler dreams have come true.

The night of the Wompey's family Halloween party. We have our witch and our cheerleader. Laura loves cheerleading.

Indiana Jones. Not sure if that is a tough look or a tired look. Also, I think there is some stubble or something missing, and those pants are rather ironed. So he is more like Preppy Indiana Jones.

A random Parisienne. Can you tell by the poodle? Should I have added a baguette? Or maybe a sense of style?

I think it's the high class wig that makes it. Oh to be Audrey Hepburn.

This was our Halloween dinner which consisted of some really gourmet food. Take that, Martha.
No one can top mummy dogs. Hours, people. It took me HOURS.


The girls made jack-o-lantern faces out of the cheese, but I forgot to take a picture before they melted into jack-o-blobs. Want to hear something sad? I NEVER buy American cheese slices, but my husband did for this (that's right, I will gladly throw him under the bus). We accidentally left the unwrapped slices outside by the grill. Overnight. The next morning they were uneaten. Untouched. Not by the raccoons, cats, bugs, nothing. And raccoons are brutal--they ripped in half a tupperware container I had left outside just to get to the food. So what does that tell you about Kraft American cheese? Yikes. I won't be eating it again.

Emma, before she eats the toxic American cheese.


Roy, "B" complete with his fake happy smile (darn you!), Gary, and Jenn. Don't they look soooo happy to eat my gourmet food? I'm the best.

Finishing the night with chocolate cake and ice cream. Jack LOVES this holiday. I have now moved into position 1 as the best parent ever. And all it took was a little sugar and toxic cheese. Your welcome, kids.

Yum yum inspiration

* all pictures from "Another Lunch."


I am really in love with my new favorite lunch site, Another Lunch.

I make my children's lunch every day and I go through phases: I love it or I hate it.

The biggest bane to lunch makers everywhere is variety and presentation. You can't eat pb&j every day of the school year (unless you were Laura in pre-k).

Many moms lately are purchasing items like Goodbyns and Laptop Lunchboxes. Not only do they increase presentation and allow the kids to see everything in front of them, but they get rid of waste like zip-loc bags and are also BPA-free and environmentally safe.

Oh, and these are also great lunchboxes for adults to take to work as well.

I am ordering some today and will let you know how they go.

Big Plans

This is me. I have the restless vibe again. So I cut my hair to my chin. Then I decided to rearrange my tables, etc., cause I'm unhappy with my dining room and porch and need to change it up. You know what I'm sayin. It happens to us all.
....so what to do, what to do......

This is not such a great pic. The room is still a mess and everything's thrown about But you get the point. This is the former dining room table booted to the porch. It makes the porch seem a little bigger, and I feel like the 100-year-old table is a little safer from Jack. That's a vintage tablecloth from the 50s and I lubs it.

This art/plaque thingy was my great-grandmother's. I put it up after we cleaned her things out because it made me think of her. But now I realize it's dark and dank and kind of ugly (the story goes her husband gave it to her for their anniversary and she didn't much like it either) so I'm going to take it down, so INTERNET WHAT DO I PUT IN IT'S PLACE?? It has to be something cheap, cause I po'.

This is my former porch table, now moved to the D.R. I like it here. And it lightens up the dark furniture. I don't think I'm keeping those pads on the chairs.

This is another pic coming down. Belongs to the lady who owns the house so I left it there. But I hate it...it's not me, so I'm getting a spine and taking it down. So here's another blank wall.
Ideas??? Links??? Free internet stuff??? Anyone??

Well, now my brain hurts from thinking about it all day, so to give us all a break, here's Jack climbing up the fridge:

Feeling Blue

*image courtesy of MarthaStewart.com

Last Saturday we went to a U-pick farm in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE and picked blueberries. I was super excited about this, as they were offering them at $1 pound and they are usually $5.00 a pint in the store--more if you want organic. I love blueberries, so we trucked out there, lathered up in sunscreen, donned hats and tried to avoid ants as we picked. And it was a lot of fun, even in the Florida heat. We ended up picking sixteen pounds! We proudly loaded them up in the back of the car and headed home. We stopped at a really awesome store/farm in Myakka City, and bought fresh farm vegetables, the girls picked some more strawberries, and I bought homemade preserves and sunflower butter. We just felt so darn farmy! I could pretend for a moment if I stared out at the cow fields that we were country folk, fitting in with the rest of the good ol' country "yes ma'am-ers" (when did I become a ma'am?), living a more simple and honest life.

The fun kind of ended though when it came time to prepare those sixteen pounds of blueberries. Remember the story of the Little Red Hen? That was apropos here as when it came time to do the work the rest of my family scattered to the far ends of the house (I don't really know if that's the right way to use apropos, but I just reeeaaally wanted to use it somewhere).

For the last three days, I have been cleaning, sorting, de-stemming (THE WORST), drying, and freezing sixteen pounds of blueberries. On the second day my mind went numb and my back froze. By the third day I realized like Lady MacBeth, I was never going to get these damn spots (blueberry stains) out of my permanently dyed nailbeds and cuticles. I hide my hands whenever I go anywhere. I really felt for women before us, who canned jar after jar of vegetables and dried meats for the long winters ahead.

When I was tempted with the idea of just throwing the dang things down the trash I let images of pies, cobblers, crisps, parfaits, buckles, pancakes, muffins, etc., dance in my head. The work will be worth it. And hopefully will give me the ability to smirk at the high cost in the grocery store when I walk by.

I was finally done this evening, and then scrubbed purple out of the counters, dishes, and floor. And off Jack's face.

They will be good frozen for about a year. Which is good, because I think it might take me about a month to be able to even look at a blueberry again. Or get the stains off my fingers.

Spring Break!

Sorry I am not posting more often this week, we are on Spring Break!
(yippee!)

I dressed the crew up in Easter finery since next Sunday (actual Easter) is General Conference at church. I love General Conference...and so does my tummy...but that's a whole 'nother post.

I'm kind of mad though, that I forgot to take a picture of Gary and I. Oh well.

Laura
(after fighting about how to do her hair, what socks, what shoes, if she was going to brush her teeth)

Emma
(after fighting about nothing because she's so easy going)
(I really should have taken a picture of her standing because it looked like a dress out of the 50s)

the boy in the bow-tie
(with a bruise on his cheek from face-planting it while toddling around)
(you do not want to know how many verses of "wheels on the bus" it took to get that shirt and bow-tie on him)

the girls

all together

photo shoot is now over.

finally, thinks jack, I can get pull my shirt out and get comfortable. especially since I have done my absolute best in ruining my mom's perfect faux hawk.

the end.

tomorrow we are going to the beach! hooray!
oh yeah, my legs are still winter white. small hooray.

Yo Yos

I am on the yo yo bandwagon, thanks to Charlene. Why? THEY'RE EASY! The perfect craft for lazy people-- like me!!! Go, lazy moms!!!

Oh, and by the way, without me knowing Laura put her shirt w/ yoyos in the washing machine...quelle horreur! I pulled it out of the washing machine with trepidation...only to find they were fine. So good news: they can be washed!

And here is my new cool water bottle. After my sad experience with security at the Boston Airport, Charlene sent me another one. Cute, huh?

Today.

Today, I

--ate too much pizza
--listened to more of Laura's plans for when I'm dead. Tonight she wants to know if she can keep living in this house.
--danced with the girls to Mamma Mia instead of cleaning. This is a big deal, because I tend to push them off when I need to get something done. You know, "hold on, I'm making dinner; Hold on, I'm loading the dishwasher; Hold on, I've got to finish folding this laundry; Hold on, I've got to make a call." I decide to just dance for a bit. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
--solved a problem with drama.
Laura: " MOMMY! EMMA ATE FIVE STRAWBERRIES AND I HAD TWO AND NOW THERE IS ONLY ONE LEFT!"
Me: " " NOOOOOOOO IT CAN'T BE! TELL ME IT ISN'T TRUE! NOT THE STRAAAWWBERRIES (as I am rolling on the floor in pain) THE BLUEBERRIES OKAY, BUT NOOOOOOT THE STRAWWWBERRIESSSSSSS! NOOOOOOOOO!" They looked at me like I was insane. And then laughed. And then finished off the strawberry. Problem solved.

A conversation with myself (yes, I have these a lot)

Me: I want another baby. They're so cute and cuddly and smell good.

Me: What the mother flipping crap are you thinking? Do you remember the last time you went to the bathroom alone or showered for longer than 3 minutes or had a clean house or a mattress free of spit-up?

Me: But then I would have four. A nice even number.

Me: Get a dog. That makes four, too.

Me: But I'm a Mormon. Aren't Mormons supposed to have a buttload of kids?

Me: Mormons are stupid. You'll never be able to afford to get back to France at this rate.

Me: There's always France at Epcot.

Me: Are you on crack? Seriously? Besides Disney for six people is expensive.

Me: True. But I can't bear to put my baby things away for good. They're so tiny and sweet, and I love them. I can't not ever use my sweet baby blankets anymore.

Me: Think of Jack. He's got one year left in diapers and that's it. FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY YOU'RE ALMOST AT THE FINISH LINE.

Me: No more itsy bitsy spider. No more Raffi. No more lavender baby soap.

Me: No more car seats! No more milk stains all over the side of your car door! No more broken remotes and ground in cheerios! NO MORE DIAPERS! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME WOMAN?

Me: Jack is so cute.

Me: So is FREEDOM! And might I add, Jack was the literal definition of hell the first year.

Me: Okay, you've got me on that one. But you do have big boobs when you're pregnant.

Me: True.

Me: So, okay?

Me: HECK NO.

Me: Damn.

design dilemma

There is a slight possibility that we could upgrade from our hodge-podge hand-me-down/college life family room furniture and graduate to something a little more grown-up. I just don't know what direction to go into.

I like this:
and I also like this:


I love my 1950's vintage tablecloths with bright blues and yellows and reds. I like my girls' 1940s Basset shabby white twin beds (found at Salvation Army, no less). But I also go pitter patter for a slick, totally modern Ikea kitchen or living room. I love beach/cottage living, but also French country and also I pore over old house plans. If I could afford it I would love to fix up an old, old house. Maybe a Victorian or an arts and crafts bungalow.

So.....how do I know what direction to go into? Is it possible to put any of these styles together? I wish I had a better interior design brainwave going on, but I just don't. I know what I like when I see it (pretty much), but I am not sure how to put it together.

Add to that the minor consideration that I have children and there's a game changer right there. I need something that's not too delicate and can be cleaned.

Any ideas? Is it possible to have it all??

The Perils of Motherhood

Wow! Look at me! Two days in a row!!

My kids got Tamagotchis for Christmas. They are these cute little digital pets that you feed, play with, and clean up their poops. Of course, knowing cheap me, I got the old versions for $2.99 at Beall's Outlet. But they're still awesome!

Anyway, if you don't take care of them, THEY DIE!!!! And my kids kept getting off the bus and coming home to find little angels with wings floating on the screens. So what have I been doing for the past few weeks? Rushing around like a ding dong checking on these things every hour or so to see if they need to be fed, etc. And yes, it is kind of fun. But just yesterday I forgot about them, and the next thing I knew Tommy Tamagotchi was pushing up daisies. And I had really become attached to the little sucker. Emma called him her little Jewish chicken because he looked like a chicken and he had--I swear to you--a yarmulke on his head. Personally, I am very proud of the fact my Mormon nine year old knew what a yarmulke was, but that's another tangent. I was so bummed when he was floating around the screen.

So just today I found out from a friend THEY HAVE A PAUSE BUTTON!!! How have I gone A MONTH keeping these stinkin' digital pets practically on my person all the time and not known that??? So now they are safely on pause and I will have to think of another reason to interrupt my chores.

tangent queen

pastries and chocolat chaud at the louvre

Yesterday I had a PT appointment. I am realizing now that I am a very observant person, and I can't help but take in every detail. What the person is wearing, how they comb their hair, what their skin is like, they way they speak and if they have an accent, how they stand, how they hold themselves, what they do with their hands when they talk.... what the walls of the office are like, how they decorate, if the baseboards are clean. I don't really care about the answers to these questions, I just notice. I am now realizing as I get older that other people don't do the same thing. Weird. So, lying there, I had to remind myself not to ask questions. I always want to rattle off a million questions like a four year old. "Why do you do that?" "What does that do?" "What is a trigger point?" Etc. etc.

My PT was very nice. In conversation, he mentioned that Thanksgiving Day he and his wife are flying to Ireland. This immediately got my attention because traveling + Europe are two of my favorite obsessions. If you ever want to hear me gab on and on, that's a good place to start. So we happily talked about his travel plans, and he was a little worried about traveling in the winter. But since this is something of which I have experience, I tried to give him some good advice and some high-fives on his choice. It's cheaper, there aren't wall -to-wall tourists, etc. Besides, I said, even if it's raining and cold, you're still in Ireland!! I hardly know the guy and I am super excited for him. Really! I'm such a dork! I am happy in my dorkdom, though.

Yesterday evening, carrying on the European thread, I had to make a HUGE amount of pain au chocolat for Emma's heritage feast at school today. Yes, by the way, they were heavenly. I make them with dark chocolate. I love to hear my girls pronounce "pain au chocolat." I do it proficiently, but my children, having learned to pronounce it as a child, say it beautifully. They took French lessons when small and although they have lost much of it, they retained the ability of a child to pick up the beautiful pronunciation. Amazingly, the words and phrases they DO remember have to do with sugar. Surprise, huh? They especially like to charm me with questions like, "Maman, est-ce que je peux avoir un bisquit, sil vous plait?"*
Emma did her presentation, and it went like this: (she wanted you to know)

My family’s heritage is French, English, Scottish, and German. My Dad’s family is very German, and that’s why I have a German last name. I am going to focus on my French heritage today. I have an ancestor named Guillaume Bon Couer (which means William Good Heart in English). He was born in 1588 in Nancy, France. He moved to England with his family because they were persecuted for their religion. In England, they changed their last name from Bon Couer to Bunker. He had a son named George in England. George was born in 1620. He sailed on a ship to America, and had a son named William in 1648 in Massachusetts. My family stayed in Massachusetts for almost 200 years. In fact, they owned land called Bunker Hill which ended up being the place of a famous battle in the Revolutionary War, although when the war happened they didn’t live there anymore. My part of the Bunker family moved to Kansas, and then to Florida in the 1920s to grow oranges.

What I brought is a French dish called Pain Au Chocolat. In America, we call them chocolate croissants. They have chocolate in the middle of them, and bread on the outside. They are very good! I love them! I had a vacation in France once and we ate them all the time. I made milk chocolate and dark chocolate. I like the dark chocolate the best. Thank you!

Tomorrow is another PT appointment. I will try to keep my lips zipped again, and my travel jealousy reigned in!! Then, my mother and sister and I will start the cooking and baking process for Thanksgiving Day.

* Mom, can I have a cookie, PLEASE????

guess it's time to put that shirt away.

The wind is whipping through the trees today. I live on a river, which flows into Tampa Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, so when the wind gets going it just funnels right down the river. Today the trees are bending and twisting like a baby tropical storm; the wind whistling through my screens so loudly I keep thinking it's Jack, awake from his nap. There is something about it that lulls me into inactivity, so I am here, sitting on my bed, instead of doing something productive like I should be.

Here is what I am thinking as I sit unproductively:

1. My Everyday Food magazine came today. Hooray!

2. My ebay Halloween accessories better get here in the next day or two.

3. I really should vacuum my floor.

4. Yesterday was nice. Yesterday there was no school--record day. So all three kids were home and Gary was working in his office. About two o'clock I went into his office, after cleaning the third spilled drink and having all my projects strewn around the house.
"I've gotta get out of here."
"What do you want to do?" he asked from behind his computer screen.
"I don't know. Sit in a bookstore. I just have to get out."
(You have to realize, too, that Gary is gone almost every night of the week. So it's just me, mostly, with the kids. )
"Okay, go."
"Really?" (Don't you tease me, I'm thinking).
"Yeah, Jack's going down for his nap. The girls can entertain themselves. Go ahead."
So I did.
We have a pretty good system. Gary's outlet is wakeboarding, and he takes off Saturday mornings with a friend and whenever else he can. He takes the girls, so it used to be a break for me too. But now that jack jack attack is here, it's not the same. And he, thankfully, understands the need to have your own time. So he is as supportive as possible on this.
****************************
My friend Maria was the first one who introduced me to thrift stores. She is from Spain, and gorgeous. I would see her at the bus stop in these amazing outfits and to die for shoes, ready for work. I would try to keep my drool from hitting her Italian leather pumps when I asked her where she got them. She would look right at me, answer without hesistation, "Goodwill."
"Shut up," I would say, "Are you serious?"
"Yes," she would say in her thick accent, "I get almost all my things from there."
Francesca, my other friend, was the next one. She is Italian, and a model. Like a for-real model. She has worked all over Europe, Japan, South Africa, and of course, the U.S. She is beautiful, but also very humble, and you will see her in my Depeche Mode concert pics (if I ever post them). Anyway, she gets tons of things at Goodwill, thrift stores, consignment shops. She just got a wetsuit for her daughters for $5.
Once I was at a fundraiser when the women next to me was showing off her beautiful Coach shoes. She bragged about how she got them at a consignment shop for next to nothing.
The trick to successful thrift store/consignment shopping is to shop in the best neighborhoods. The places where women wear things for one season and give them away. You can find clothes in perfect condition, all kinds of brand names.

So back to yesterday. I was heading toward the bookstore when I got distracted by a sign at one of the thrift stores in a great part of town. Halloween sale! So I pulled in for a quick check. Two hours later, I came out having spent $30. I got shorts, capris, skirts, dresses for the girls, a Polo romper for Jack. I left with J. Crew, Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, Gymboree, and Polo. I really don't care much about brand names, but I just wanted to make the point that it's well-made clothing. Fun stuff. Went home, threw it all in the washer and walked in the family room a much more relaxed person.

Maybe too relaxed, 'cause I'm still sitting here on my bed, looking out the window at white-capped waves, beating up against the dock.

Well, I try to be a creative mom, but you know, if it ain't in your genes, it ain't in your genes. But I had read some great ideas on different blogs for back-to-school dinners where your schoolchildren are the guests of honor. So I decided to have a special dinner the first day of school. The tablecloth needed ironing, I had a bit of anxiety every time Lolly picked up a crystal goblet, but all in all, I'm glad we did it. We had a great time, and it meant a lot to the girls, which made it all worth it. I just won't show them the pictures of the blogs where it's absolutely amazing! ;)

The girls were excited they got to have SODA and brownies a la mode for dessert.

the spread

our theme--not that original, but I thought it would be great for our family. Preparation spiritually, temporally, and with school. I also notice now that I'm looking at the pictures that I forgot to put a candle in one of them. I am nothing if not glamorous.

Jack enjoyed dinner, too!

voila! a new year has begun.

New Beginnings

Well, like so many households all across America, we went back to school. One big addition here: Laura started Kindergarten!!! The girls will be bus riders, but on the first day of school I drive, so I parked in an overflowing parking lot, walked two girls up to school--one becoming more anxious with each step and one laid back and cool as a cucumber. You might think the kindergartner would be the nervous nelly, but you would be wrong, my friends. That was my fourth grader. She asked me questions rapid-fire:

Mom, what if I have to blow my nose? I don't know if my teacher will let me get up to get a tissue...
Mom, what if she moved my desk and I'm not sitting by K.?
Mom, what if she is upset I don't have headphones yet?
Mom, what if my new shoes start giving me blisters and I can't keep up with the line?

and on and on...

Meanwhile, little Lolly just strode along beside me, clasping my hand, observing her new domain.

When Emma was dropped off, she let me give her a big kiss--returned it even--outside the room (joy...when will that change?). I wished her well, reminded her to say a prayer if she got nervous, then watched her move into her next stage in life on her own. I tried to unobtrusively peek through the window, a lump in my throat as I remembered how it wasn't so long ago I was guiding her into kindergarten. I watched her and her little best friend's mutual relief when they locked eyes and began to chat as they took their seats. Then I let her go, as I must. On to kindergarten.


I brought Laura through the door, we put backpack and lunchbox and snack in their proper places, we weaved through the thick maze of teary parents and I led her to her seat. With all the confidence in the world, she plopped into her seat, picked up her crayon, and diligently started to color the paper in front of her. I gave her the best motherly advice I could muster: go to the bathroom when you need to, here's your new friend P. sitting next to you, your teacher loves you and will help you if you need her, listen, obey, say a prayer in your heart if you need to, eat your lunch, and I love you and will be thinking of you all day. "Okay, Mommy, love you, bye," and that was it. I didn't want to be a hoverer or a clingy parent, so I gave her a hug, took a picture, said my I love yous, and began to walk away. I glanced back occasionally as I weaved my way back through teary parents and clingy kids. Laura was coloring away, talking to her new friends, barely a glance in my direction. I took one last peek through the window, and left Laura's days at home behind.

As I'm leaving, the rational side of me is thinking, "This is great, no tears. She's a well-adjusted, confident kid. What could be better? I'm a rational, well-adjusted adult, I don't need my daughter to miss me to feel validated." Then, of course, my emotional side kicks in: "DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING??? DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND??? You are leaving me!!! Your little childhood is over! No more pb and j's together, no more cuddling on the couch watching your favorite Noggin show, no more naps together, no more field trips to the library, no more cookie-making or Polly Pockets, it is all over AND FURTHERMORE CAN'T YOU MAKE ME FEEL A LITTLE NEEDED AND AT LEAST CLING TO MY LEG ONCE???"

It's okay. It was quiet at first at home, but then I dug into some projects, changed Jack's poopy diapers, enjoyed the silence (thanks again depeche mode), and got on with the ever-changing face of motherhood.

Did you know I used to teach kindergarten? I did. I remember the first day and all the tears I wiped, hugs I gave, and encouragement I doled out. Occasionally even to the children. I loved my class. And now I must trust their teachers to do the same.

How to Discipline Your Children Southern Style

my mother, thrilled I am taking her picture whilst eating

My mother is a soft-spoken, talented, well-dressed, gentle, Southern woman. She obeys all of polite society's fashion rules, would never wear flip-flops or denim skirts to church or jeans to Walt Disney World ( can you believe the women who wear bikini tops?? I used to work there...I saw all kinds of things). She knows when to use a whom and when to use a who. She says "Pahl-meh-tah" intead of the Yankee "Pall-met-toe." She gives her grandchildren lots of "Shuh-gah" underneath their chinny chin chins. She plays old Southern hymns on the piano and we love to gather around it and harmonize together. She, like all good Southern women has her china, crystal, and silver and knows where each fork goes and how to use it. She wraps Christmas presents beautifully. She makes the best banana pudding with vanilla wafers you have ever had. For real. I adore my mom. I wish I were more like her. She is all of these wonderful things above, but she is also one tough woman. She has had cancer three times, breast cancer being one of them, and fought hard each time.

So it might or might not surprise you to know that this composed, genteel woman could put the fear of you-know-what into us when we were naughty. Let's face it, a southern woman might know her manners and how to entertain, but by heaven they sure as shootin' know how to keep their kids in line.

Exhibit A: My brother, attempted to sass my mother while she was busy cooking. For the record, the only way he even would have thought about doing this is because my Dad was not at home. Sassing a mother in front of a father in these parts is the quickest way to a blackout.

Soooo.... my brother decides to start said sassing. My mom whipped around faster than a tornado, the chicken broth still dripping off her wooden spoon and said, "Son, I will knock you into next week if you ever say that to me again.

Next: Me, younger and dumber (than now). Who knows what I did...really at all blends in together after all these years of righteous living (haha). Anyway, I just remember my mom telling me my all time favorite: "You ever do that one more time and I am gonna rip your arms off and beat you with the bloody stumps."

Runners Up:
"You are going to pick yourself up on the other side of the street."
"I am going to hang you up by your toenails on the neighbor's clothesline."
"What are you, poor white trash?" (Poor white trash is completely different from good simple country folk) (By the way, you can have tons of money and still be white trash...hence the term white trash with money. I used to see these at WDW also, but that's another post.)

A good disciplinarian can stop a kid in their tracks with a look only. Like my mother, I am a teacher and a mom, so my kids don't stand a chance. I can turn around, arch my eyebrow with an "ex-CUSE ME?" and that's that. How about, "What did you just say to me? Are you talking back to me?"

Sometimes my friends and I see a mother who's kid is clearly in charge and feel great pity for her. Poor thing. One time another mother's son was stomping on top of the baby grand piano AT CHURCH. The mother just kind of clapped her hands in that Sweet-Sister-Molly-Mormon fashion and said, "No, no sweetie, please get down." Little sweetie stomped harder. Mama just said, "He is such a little character." I'm not kidding, that's a true story.

I understand that for some raised in other parts of the country it might seem a bit harsh. But southern children KNOW they are loved. They also know which lines they can't cross. We love and kiss and hug and snuggle with our little ones, and we also love them enough to make sure they don't turn into little spoiled brats.

I am posting this with love to my friends ('specially you kymmie) who love to hear my mom's....isms.

Post-Valentine's Post

It's not the most gorgeous picture, but yikes it was good. Chocolate two-layer cake with homemade chocolate buttercream frosting. Very moist and good.

His shirt says, "My heart belongs to Mommy." You better remember that, kid.

sorry, I'm too lazy to figure out how to turn this picture around after it's posted. Gotta learn how to do that.

Welcome to our ticky tacky Valentine's decoration showcase!!! G. (my darling husband) is lately of the real estate/mortgage profession, so it doesn't take a total genius to figure out how well we are doing financially right now. So this Valentine's the mission was to find that balance between decorating the house with the girls and not spending a dime. Soooo fun.

I love holidays. They help to cheer when things are drab and monotonous and not so easy. They are happy bumps in the long road of reality. So here's what the girls and a I came up with in Drafty House:

Yes, you guessed it. Christmas ornaments thrown in a bowl complete with ribbon and Mr. Glitter Bird. Mr. Glitter Bird fell of a Christmas wreath, and I kept him because he's shiny and glittery and makes me happy.

Yep, it's a Very Special Wal-Mart Valentine's Day.