Sunday, November 30, 2008

Brrrrr!

Phillip Johnny Bob



Dylan, Jackson and Emma received a package on Friday that said it came all the way from the North Pole. It even had a message with it that said that "the man" was aware that they don't clean their rooms like they are supposed to, they don't help keep the house clean and that he would be watching.



They were eager to open the package and see what was inside...



It had an official Santa seal on it.





Oooooooooooo....





Inside was a book with very specific instructions not to touch and....the box also contained....an elf....





...which we all agreed, was creepy.





And so, the groveling and being good began.




We gave the elf a name and began our best behavior because we knew that he was watching and that he would return to the North Pole each night and give Santa a full report. Where oh, where will Phillip Johnny Bob be hiding next?

Malia

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Twilight

I like to read. I wish I could read more. I never read because when I try, I fall asleep. Probably because by the time I actually get into the bed, I am exhausted and I am out before my prayers are finished.

But recently, I was challenged. I am pretty sure there was some bargaining going on. Something about seeing Wicked and my ticket and it disappearing if I didn't join my friend in reading. Reluntantly I agreed and the deal was that after we finished the book, we would go see the movie together. I can't remember what date it was, but I went and bought Twilight the next day. That night, I settled into my bed, snug under the covers with my husband looking at me like, "What the hell are you doing....reading?" "Yeah, I can read, ya know." "Okay," he said, but he still shot me a look.

I talked to my friend every day and she quadrupled her way through the book from the pace I was reading. You have to understand how I operate. I want to make sure I read every word and if I didn't get the emotion right, I will read the sentence over and over. I don't want to miss a thing. I was hooked by Chapter two. I was invested in this relationship. Each night after reading, Devin and I would text. "When is he going to kiss her?" "Oh my gosh, I love Edward!" "Bella is so stupid!" She was ahead of me, so basically all she could do was tell me to hold on, it gets nothing but better. The sexual tension between Edward and Bella had me running to bed each night, one night reading until 3 a.m. All I wanted was for Edward to kiss her! I was bitten. Devin finished way before me, flying through all four books. She is now done and I am savoring the time I have left with Edward. I expect a great depression once I am done with the books, so I will have to settle for the movies.

Devin and I went and saw the movie, as promised, and while the movie in no way did for me what the book did, I can't wait for the next one. The main thing that did not disappoint was, of course, Edward Cullen. HOT!

My husband has my heart, but Edwared has my neck. I am in love with a vampire. I am waiting for that silver Volvo to pull up in the driveway. Bite me Edward.... What?! What do you mean Edward's not real? Don't make me go "Volturi" on you!

Malia

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Worst Mom Evah!...How Fun.

What fun would it be to be a mom, if you couldn't have fun at the expense of your children's torture?

Imagine this, you, as a child, suddenly finding out that your parents were going on a week-long vacation and you were being shipped off to some distant cousin, whom you may have met, but you don't remember, and just being left there. How horrifying!

Normally, our children go to Wade's parents on Fridays and sometimes on Saturdays, depending on our work schedules. This is something the children look very forward to. Not sure if it is because of the endless cool places they get taken to every weekend, or maybe the toys that are showered upon them, or it could be that they just like the company of Grandma and Peepaw, but regardless...they love it. Well, this weekend, Grandma and Peepaw are heading to Nebraska and so I have had to come up with some other arrangements. While my children are begging to go to Memaw's house, I told them that she will be at her sisters and Grammy will be working, so my only other alternative was to send them to my cousin Chris' house. While I do have a cousin named Chris, I don't see him often, like maybe twice a year, so they have no recollection of him. I am sure that Chris is a perfectly wonderful indivdual with a car dated in the 2000's and DVR, Internet and every game system out there, but the Chris that I have told my lovelies about.....he has rabbit ears on his television, no Internet, no game systems, he lives out in the woods, with no children, and a rusty old truck that only has a few holes in the floorboard and to just make sure they keep their feet away from the holes and they'll be fine.

It's evil, I know, but just think about how much more they will appreciate Memaw when they find out they are really going there.

Please forgive me Santa...

Belated

Someone had a big birthday yesterday and you know I will blog about it, but my camera batteries are dead, so, as soon as I can AFFORD to buy some batteries, I will make a birthday post, complete with pictures.


Malia

Big Baby

As I've gotten older...or maybe it was once I had children...I don't know, I used to be able to hide it more, but now I don't...because I can't, but I just cry over everything. Yea, I am one of those, I cry over Downy commercials. It is annoying because I am an ugly crier.

I will be watching General Hospital and apparently I make this face when I see something sad because every time, Emma, catches me. She'll say, "Mom, stop making that sad face!" Because she knows what comes next and she doesn't understand tears that are not pain-induced or really, really sad-induced tears.

There is a reason my boys do not play sports. At Emma's last cheerleading game one of the little boys got "hurt"..really I think he got the wind knocked out of him and that was it. It was clear he was not very wounded, but there I sat, blubbering in the stands watching this little boy cry.

Now, yesterday, there I sit, watching Army Wives and there I sit just crying. I can hear a song about children growing up, or having cancer or a little girl's wedding and that will be all she wrote, the mascara is gone.

I love it. I love the way I feel, the way it touches me, that to me means that the movie, song or situation served it's purpose, but I hate how I look, mascara streaming downt the face, red faced, snotty!

I think maybe it just means that I have the compassion thing down pat. Maybe. Either that or I'm just a bit baby.

Moms are made for...

Me: Here Dylan, open this can of spaghetti sauce, just put the blade part of the can opener into the slot, squeeze the handles and turn the knob....yep, it's hard isn't it?

Dylan: Mom, this is hard....that must be why this job was made for moms.

Me: Made for moms? Why is it made for moms? Cause I'm the strongest?

Dylan: No, because that's what your made for, cooking small meats and opening cans.

Me: Really?

Dylan: Yeah, and dads are made for cooking big meats....and boys are made for opening jars.

Me: You hear that Wade?

Dylan: What? It's true, dad you cook big meats like hamburgers and steak...mom, you cook little meats, like chicken and hot dogs...and pork chops.

Turkey

Outside of Emma's Pre-K door they had a poster hung that had a question and all of the children's individual repsonses written under the title.

The question: How does your mom cook a turkey?

"Emma-Put it in a pan. Turn the stove on. Boil it. Cut it up. Put it in the oven. Put it in the microwave."

Hey, at least I get the turkey cooked all the way through. I am a stickler about uncooked meat!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Hated

Today I watched the season finale of Army Wives. It is probably two months old because that is how far behind I am in my DVR, but alas! I hated it! It made me feel sad, I cried, I laughed, I felt every emotion. It was just the best show EVAH!

Malia

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Acidic Hootie

My mom sent me an e-mail last week with a song from Darius Rucker, formerly Hootie of Hootie and the Blowfish. Note: She did not send me a mascara alert, so I am, that's cause I'm so nice. Mascara alert! I'll wait while you go take a listen, meet me back here in 3 minutes and 21 seconds, give or take a few.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=32649804

Gets you right there duttin' it?

Tonight though, I looked at it from a whole 'nother perspective....if you recall, we have all been sick...every one except Dylan. I thought surely this had all passed. Everything has been bleached and Lysoled. Everyone had gone back to school and gone about our normal lives again. Party planning has taken place. Invitations have been sent out and there is a party here, tomorrow. Carpets are clean, house is almost clean and I was making good time.

Dylan asked if he could go lay down at about 6:00 p.m. last night and that I is when I began to get this fear in the pit of my stomach. I kept checking on the boy and he was sleeping. I finally decided that everyone was going to go to bed early tonight and we all hit the hay at 7:00 p.m. (Y'all wish you had my talent don't cha?!) Everyone was snoozing and I had woken up for some reason and then got Wade off to work. I was lying in bed watching The Locator when I heard something fall. I paused the show and listened and then I heard it. The splash that you don't want to hear. It is not the splash of your child dropping tea in the floor or splashing in the bathtub, no, this was THE splash. The splash that said, "Ho, oh, oh, you are going to be up for quite a while!" I rounded the corner to peer into the bathroom and there he was, praying. Pale. Pitiful.

(Oh thank God, he made it to the linoleum and didn't get the carpet!) I threw down some towels as a makeshift bridge between he and I. I noticed then that he had missed the toilet a slight bit, but luckily, there was the mop bucket! I can't decide if he didn't make it because he didn't have his glasses on or if he just had bad aim.

I got him up, got him back in his bed and went to survey the damage.

(Oh man! Not my flat iron!) I began the tedious task of cleaning the flat iron off, all the cracks and crevices were caked! I thought back to the song above. It was my new mantra, but it was now for cleaning up vomit...off my flat iron. This won't last that long...

Let me just admit something right here! I have a pretty weak stomache when it comes to some things. I don't do pimples, I can't handle farts and I can't do vomit, unless it is from one of my children. When it's my husband, I can't do it. Number one, he is LOUD! I am sure if I absolutely had to, I could gag my way through it, but ....really, I would rather not.

So, the bathroom is all shiny and smelling fresh again. My flat iron is ready for tomorrow's party and, oh yes, the party will go on...you try telling a five-year-old that her diamond-themed bling party is cancelled because of a little vomit in your flat iron.....

....and so you see, even vomit can make you sentimental.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G B-E-E


Someone has a very big day tomorrow.


And he's nervous.


He is representing his school.


He told his brother he was going to say the wrong letters on purpose so that he doesn't win anymore.


Because he is nervous.


He told me that he was going to try his best.


I believe the latter because that is what Dylan does.


He tries his best.


And he excels.


He makes us proud.


Go get 'em, son.

Malia

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Reminiscing

Wade and I were talking the other day about one Christmas when he and I were so sick, we were both vomiting on the hour, every hour. This was luckily before we had babies. It was horrible. At that time, I thought I was dying.

Then there was this one time that I was about seven months pregnant with Dylan and I had gotten so sick, diarhhea, vomiting, etc. I asked Wade to call the nurse to see what I could take. I was sitting on the toilet and throwing up in the trash can and he came in and said, "The nurse wants to know what is wrong with you." WHAT IS WRONG WTIH ME?! Do I really have to do everything?! "Tell her I am puking my guts out, have raging diarhhea and I am seven months pregnant, (BLECH!!!) THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!"

Then there was the November of 2005. The children had gone to Memaw's to spend the night and I believe it was Jackson who had begun to vomit there. He came home and the next thing you know, we were all sick. Sore throat, vomiting, diarhhea, fever. This was the month that I seriously thought I was going to die. I thought there was no way that death could be worse than this. All five of us had intestinal strep throat! It was horrible! I fear strep throat to this day because of that time.

It seems that since then, every November we have all gotten sick. Last November, Emma started vomiting, then Jackson, Dylan and then Wade. I was the only one who somehow, miraculously, did not get it. I remember at one point, trying to make myself and Dylan a sandwich, because he was over it by then, and in the middle of the making the sandwich, I had to stop three times to go wipe a brow or a mouth.

It is November again and we are sick. It started with me having something that this stupid doctor could not diagnose. He wanted to take my blood and do a chest x-ray, but I told him that was dumb. I just had a fever for one day and he wanted to take the blood to see if my white cell count was down. Well, duh, if I have an infection of any kind...it will be. Good try, but you are not going to screw the insurance company out of money, so that they can in turn, screw me. Not helping! He said he wanted to do the chest x-ray to see if I had pneumonia! Hello! My chest is barely affected! It is my throat. Can you say new doctor? Anyways, I got halfway over that, went to the ballet, had a chocolate milkshake and what do you know, Emma started vomitting. No more chocolate milkshakes for her. Then, I had a dream, I dreamed that I was vomiting. When I woke up, I found out it was real. Then Jackson came home from school, went to get a package off of the front porch and BLECH! What a site for the people driving by. So, there we all piled in my bed. The sick bed. Wade has had a sinus cold for about a week and a half and he declared that he wasn't feeling so good either. He never puked, but alas, the only one that has come through so far, is Dylan. Hopefully he stays well because he has a very big day on Thursday.

I always send you happy pictures, so here are some sick pictures (no vomit included, promise)



This is me, in all my misery.




Add in Jackson.






And better add in the one that started it all. Good thing she is so cute.


Malia

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

The Ballet

I'll post some pictures too.... so you don't get bored:

For Emma's birthday, I wanted to see if she was ready to go see The Nutcracker before I shelled out a bunch of money for something she would be bored with from the first twirl with a wooden man.



I get e-mail from Ticketmaster and a ballet called The Magic Toy Shop caught my attention. The tickets were cheap and since they sell them on Ticketmaster, it must be good, right?




Well, at least we looked good!




We got all gussied up in our ballet finest and my mom, Emma and I set out to The Gwinnet Center for Performing Arts. The same place I recently saw New Kids on the Block, so again, it must be good, right?




I was expecting The Nutcracker, only with cheaper dancers. I got high school students who take lessons from a dance company. While it is better than Emma's last dance recital, I was disappointed.


Emma, she had to bring out the bling! Didn't even know she brought it with her, but you never know what is in a girl's silver sequined purse....you. just. never. know.






Emma had a great time though. While I can see that she is nowhere near ready for The Nutcracker put on by The Atlanta Ballet, the time spent together getting ready, getting pretty and then walking into an auditorium where everyone else was in jeans, was worth it all.




Yeah, definitely NOT ready for the Nutcracker!





We saw a REAL ballerina and her hair is the same color as mine!





One of my fav's.







A night at the theatre will do that to you.

Malia

Monday, November 10, 2008

Amen

Dear God,

Thank you for saving my refrigerator, which in turn, saved Christmas.

Amen.

Coollll!




Kept the boys entertained for days.

Malia

Friday, November 07, 2008

Priceless

Yelling 528,468,456,125 times at your boys to get their room clean = AGGRAVATING!

Threatening them with no trick or treating to get it done = IRRITATING!

Watching you have to ask your four-year-old sister to tie the garbage bag for you because you don't know how = HILARIOUS

Thursday, November 06, 2008

It's All in the Hair

I can remember being in the second grade and having a mock election when Ronald Regan and ....some other guy were running for president. Mrs. Bowman was my teacher and I was at Fitz Hugh Lee Elementary School. We were shown the pictures and I am sure we were given some facts and we voted. My decision was simple and clear cut. I voted for Regan. Why? Simple. He was an older man. I love older men. He reminded me of my Papa in looks. Now that I think about it, they really didn't look that much alike, just the dark, wavy hair. That was why I chose him though. Turns out he won and I always did like him. I even cried at his televised funeral, watching Nancy tell her husband goodbye. It was heart wrenching.

Turns out, the apple does not fall far from the tree:


Dylan: Mom, what are you doing?

Me: I'm studying, trying to figure out who to vote for for president.

Dylan: You should vote for McCain.

Me: Oh yeah, why?

Dylan: Because....that's who I voted for.

Me: Why?

Dylan: I don't know...because.


Emma: Mom, mom, you should vote for the guy with white hair.

Me: Why?

Emma: Because?

Me: Because why?

Emma: Because that is who I voted for.

Me: You voted?

Emma: Yeah, I voted for John McCain.

Me: Why?

Emma: Because he is handsome.

Malia

Monday, November 03, 2008

Archives

Somewhere in the archives of my mind, I have a file that inlcudes, Halloween, my Memaw and Papa, and being scared out of my mind. I know my mom has documentation of this somewhere and maybe I can get it and bring this memory to life, but in the meantime, it arose from somewhere in the deep, dark depths of my mind this past Halloween night when the memory Memaw made for me, she also made for my children.

Memaw called me and said to call her as soon as we left the house with the children because she was going to dress up for them. So of course, I obeyed.

We pull up and the children see that her door is cracked. They grab their trick or treat bags and head for the doorbell with smiles on their faces, ready to get the first trick or treat candy of the night.

Something doesn't seem right. They get to the door and peek into the crack.

There they saw...an old woman! Not sure who she was, they hesitated, not sure whether to be scared or .... well, scared!



"Hello? What do you children want? There is no one named Memaw that lives here? Who is Memaw? I am just an old lady. Do you want to come in?"

They look to me...and I look frightened myself.

"Mom, who is that?"

"Come in, come in...don't you want to come inside?"

In unison, "No."

Dylan starts to get a smile on his face. He knows. Jackson is not so sure and Emma, is definitely NOT going inside.

I had to be the big girl and lead the pack, "C'mon guys, let's go inside. It's just Memaw. She's dressed up. Isn't that funny?"

I got the boys in willingsly, but Emma, not so easy. She inched by Memaw, clinging to my hand and swiftly, but sweetly told her, "Don't touch me."

I mean, c'mon, would you be afraid of this old lady?



Wade, he wasn't afraid.



Convincing Emma that she really was Memaw, was not easy. The only way she would even take a picture with her was if her daddy was with her.



Thanks for the memories Memaw, you are one cool chick in my book.

Malia

Sunday, November 02, 2008

This is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween!

Star Wars Boba Fett and Star Trooper(or whatever they are called) costumes = $40 each




Three pumpkins = $5.49 each



Belle costume = $20



Your brothers crashed in the backseat by 8:45 p.m., so the loot is all yours for the taking = priceless