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Showing posts from October, 2013

High School

I thought he was super cute. We were from neighboring towns and both taught Social- which, around here, is a rite of passage. Learning how to ballroom dance once a week was something everyone did. Few children of Hometown do not know how to fox trot, waltz, tango, or yes- even Polka.

I can polka.

Secretly, it's a lot of fun. The tango is sexy, but the polka is fun.

We Amos Moses.
We dip, twirl, and wear white gloves.
We attend the Spring Cotillion at the end of the year and our poor parents suffer through watching the masses move in a circle over and over again.
We wear dance cards. No lie.

It's a part of who we are down here and it's lovely.

I digress...

He was super cute. I was in Cotillion and was wearing a white dress when we, literally, ran into each other in the lower halls of the Civic Center. He was in tails. What's not handsome about a boy in tails? He had dark hair and was much taller than I was. He asked me if my name was Wife.

A coy response from me with bo…

Good Morning?

Some mornings, it's hard to get out of bed. When Husband is on call, the head cold has set in, the kids didn't sleep... it's hard when LMC be-bops into your bedroom at 6:15 with the whispers of a child asking if she can please get in bed with you.

Part of me wants to say, "NO! Get the **#% back in your bed," but, that other side- that loving mom side that knows children are only children for so long whisper, "Go TT and grab your pillow." (read: too tired to argue)

She kindly obeys, grabs her pillow and pulls herself up into that warm oasis with her ice cold toes and curly hair and insists on sharing both your space and your pillow.

And then you know, you just know, there will be no more shut-eye for this day-- the Monday.

Admitting defeat around 7:30, I send her on her way to pick out clothes and start her day. Bennie is in her crib with her bottle whining, but not yet crying. It's Monday. Seems like every morning starts out as Monday. And this Mond…

Bennie's Room

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Okay, the rooms get less and less done as we get farther and farther to the back of the house. This is just a fact of life. I don't have enough artwork and really don't want to throw stuff up willy-nilly, nor do I want to go up to my eyeballs in debt getting this home complete.

We live with a formica backsplash. It works. My eye twitches when I look at it, but it works. There needs to be landscaping, but we will get there. I hope.

Bennie's room is pink. Pink-pink, like blush and bashful kind of pink. She will probably hate having anything pink until she is 25 (like her mother) kind of pink. She can't talk yet. If she can't talk, she can't have a vote. House rules.

Bennie's clothes are hanging in a neat row in her walk-in closet (because every baby needs a walk-in closet). Because she can't make a wreck of her clothes yet, they hang in a color-ordered pattern. LMC has three dresses haphazardly dangling on two hangers. The differences between infants and …

Pink Bath

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Come on down the long hall to the back of the house. The pink bathroom with double sinks sits as a beacon of femininity for our two daughters. I have mentioned before that all of my homes have had pink baths. 

My first pink bath was in Milledgeville and I went totally '50s in it with a pink water pitcher and basin mounted on the wall. My second pink bath was in my condo and was a teeny tiny half bath- It had a hand towel and a candle. No decor. Now my third pink bath... that one was awesome. I convinced Husband on one of his few days off to tape the walls and paint chocolate brown stripes. We were newly weds. He has since learned better. I had three brown bud vases and a brown damask shower curtain. Husband built a beautiful frame and mounted it to the big mirror on the wall. A brown monogram on ecru Irish linen hand towels completed the room and the pink tile was merely a blip accenting the loveliness. We washed dishes in that sink after parties and washed babies after messes an…

Wallpaper

If someone out there can hang wallpaper for a song and a dance, allow me to strum my guitar and find my tap shoes. I was put on this earth to do many things-- make beautiful babies, collect an obnoxious amount of knowledge on sterling flatware, drink wine, hang pictures, catch fish-- you get the idea.

I was not put on this earth to hang wallpaper.

My father was put on this earth to hang wallpaper. He has, however, retired from that business and his paper hanging days are over.

My MIL was put on this earth to hang wallpaper. She is damn good at it, too. Her paper hanging days aren't over yet, thanktheSweetLord. They came in town last week to a list for her three deep:

- Paint the chandelier
- Paint the other chandelier
- Hang wallpaper

LMC added one thing:

- Buy me "My Little Pony" shoes.

Foolish me thought, "How hard can this be? It's paper, for Pete's sake. Not only that, it's supposed to be easy paper as it is fake wallpaper."

Long story short, yo…

Curious?

Wondering why I stopped posting about the house? The other rooms aren't done. The kitchen is almost done. So very close. We have decided on the backsplash and are ordering it next week. Once that comes in, you will get to see it in all it's glory. The only thing left to do is update those 1967 double ovens. Know what I discovered? Double ovens ain't cheap. Even cheap ones ain't cheap. They are not a real popular scratch and dent item either. So, you get to see the double ovens.

And the leather finish countertops. What's not to be excited about?

As I sit and type, Bennie finally fell asleep and I have fabric in front of my computer waiting to be sewn together. She will have a window treatment besides the Roman shades I finally put up in her room after our last, ahem, incident. LMC will have window treatments, too-- with fun little white baubles for fringe. After that, other then hanging a few pictures on Bennie's walls (and moving a dresser in there once we get …

Gee-Zus

LMC learned to sing a new song...

My country is a Veeee.
Sweet land of Libby.
Of Dee I sing.
Land where daaaa da daaaaa
Land where daaaaaaaa da daaaaaaa
*FROM AIR TO MOMMY'S SIDE*
Let freedom ring

She also likes to sing her blessing (she knows the other one, but she prefers this one)

God our mother
oh wait, I messed up
God our fodder
God our fodder
We thank you
We thank you
For our many  Bwessings
For our many  Bwessings
Ah-Ah-men
Ah-Ah-men
you have to say ah-ah-men twice because that's how the prayer goes.

She talks about Mary. She knows that Mary is the mother of God and she really likes to put a blanket over her head and hold it under her chin. She walks around the house saying, "Hey Mom! I look like Mary. Did you know Mary is the mother of God?"

She talks about Gee-Zus. She loves Gee-Zus. Whenever she gets asked to do something, "Me and Gee-Zus" are usually who accomplished the task. Gee-Zus is like having an imaginary friend... but with a conscience and …

Game Day

The children are at school. Husband is on call. The lawn service is blowing off the driveway. The dining room table is a mess of genealogical stuff. The kitchen has a sink full of dirty dishes-- and yet, I wonder where they come from as I have not cooked in three days. I'm perusing fabric for the sofa that needs to be recovered. Music plays.

I have sat at my computer and typed, erased, and typed again about returning to my alma mater up the two lane highway last weekend with Brother. We went to The Biggest Game of the year and sat in his lovely club level seats while we cheered on the Dawgs. We wore our red. We ate fried chicken and boiled peanuts. We enjoyed the luscious day. It was, by far, the most memorable game.

More memorable than playing LSU back in 2004 and getting the ball to the one yard line directly in front of our seats.
More memorable than the SEC championship in New Orleans.
More memorable than when the students tore down the goal posts and ripped up the hedges with…

His Name Starts With "A"

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His name starts with "A" and we talk about him all the time. "An-Ew" as he is called on this blog was a big part of our four year old's life when we lived in DC. Sometimes, we write letters back and forth with the children dictating what to write and the mother copying verbatim those crucial words that one wants to share with the other, now that we live states away instead of blocks.
"An-Ew" is in the monkey class at his new school. His brother is in a different class and his sister is in the puppy class. LMC tells me this on repeat. She asks questions about him, too. 

"Do you think An-Ew misses me?" "I know he does." "Yeah, he does. I miss him, too. He's my DC best buddy. Niece is my Hometown best buddy, but he's my real best buddy. So is Niece. Does JF go to school with An-Ew?" "He does." "And Baby Julia?" "She does, too."
When we say our prayers at night, it starts with me saying,…