Because I'm Tired

Because I'm tired, I will subject you to a list of momsense.

1. Tuesday morning I was jolted awake at 3:30 am with a charley horse in my calf that can only be described as mind numbing. Coach was jolted awake approximately 4 seconds later by a screaming wife, which also can only be described as mind numbing. Then he tried to rub it out, at which point he may or may not have been punched by said screaming wife.

Approximately 2 seconds after that Coach was snoring soundly again. But not me. Oh no, I saw stars, had a ringing in my ears, and had a hot flash...and heart palpitations. Then it took me another 45 minutes to calm down enough to go to sleep...just in time for the alarm to go off.

2. I walked with a limp all day Tuesday...and today.

3. To which my track girls asked me what happened, and forced me to tell them that I hurt myself sleeping. SLEEPING. PITIFUL.

4. And then they laughed and said they thought that only happened to old people. And one girl told the story of how her dad pulled a muscle in his thigh while sitting and eating chicken wings. And another girl said her dad broke a rib while sitting at his desk at work (although there was a faulty spring in a chair back that apparently catapulted him into the side of his desk). And still another girl talked about how her mom tore a ligament in her foot while polishing her toes. And then I didn't feel so bad.

5. Until one girl said "Old people are always getting hurt doing nothing...Oh, sorry Mrs. K- we don't think you're old...old is like 35 years old...you're not old"

To which I replied, "No, apparently I'm four years past old. Now, go run."

6. And then I came home and checked my e-mail, and I received this little gem from a freshman who wants me to recommend him for honors history next year...

"I am trying to get registered for Honors History.. I need a reconmendation form my English and Histroy teacher. If possible please send one to me by breack tomorrow."

Umm, yeah. I'm probably not going to do that. But I might do a lesson on the virtues of using spell check.

7. And then I took a hot bath to ease the throbbing of my calf, and now I'm going to bed...at 8:45...with all the old people.

See y'all!

Problems in the Kitchen

Weight Watchers week #3 and I'm down again! Praise God. I've lost weight every week, gone to the meetings every week, and I've lost a total of 5 pounds. Small yes, especially when you sidle it up to Coach's 12 pounds, but considering I've managed to do it without taking a life, and fitting in macaroni and cheese, mexican food twice in one weekend, and ice cream- I'm good with my five pounds.

So tonight we talked about managing the kitchen and John, our fearless leader, told us the best way to manage our kitchens was to Recognize, Remove, and Replace.

Which is not bad advice all the way around.

I've been "off" for a bit now, and the last three weeks have had me involved in the middle of a drama that would rival Days of Our Lives on its best day.

And I don't like drama.

AT. ALL.

I like to face the problem; quickly come up with a solution; and HANDLE THE THING.

MY WAY.

I also don't like being told what to do or how things "will be." Especially when I know I'm right, which incidentally, is all of the time. Don't believe me? Ask Coach, he'll tell you, I'm never wrong.

It's what makes me so endearing and easy to be around.

Anyway, let's just say this. There was drama. Lots of it. I cried...at work...in front of a man...and let me remind you, I'm not a cryer. I only cry when I get really, really mad.

And I was mad, and so was said man, and honestly, I think we both left that meeting with a little more respect for each other, or maybe he just left totally freaked out that I cried. Who really knows?

So, you'll have to excuse me, I've been involved in my own personal hissy fit for the last few days.

And I'm Recognizing that now. I have Removed all the nonsense from my life.

And now I'm Replacing it with some silly anecdotes from the last few days.

Because, in Weight Watcher John's words- "it's time to manage the kitchen."

So here you go- maybe it will get you out of your own personal hissy fit as well.

1. AC has to memorize the Oath of Office of the President. She recited it to me. It took 15 seconds and is literally 2 lines long. I said, "Wow, that's it? It's short."

And AC replied "I know. The Girl Scout Pledge is way harder than that."

Me: "You're right. You'd think the leader of the free world would have to memorize a little more than that."

AC: "Yeah, being a Girl Scout is way WAY harder than being President."

Me: "You think?"

AC: "Duh. The President doesn't have to sell Girl Scout Cookies and do research on India."

Explains a lot, don't you think?

2. In class today, a senior asked me if Endometriosis would be considered an anatomical disease.

I replied, "Yes, it is a serious condition that causes terrible cramping, heavy bleeding during the menstrual cycle, and it causes a build up of scar tissue that can cause fertility issues."

To which a boy in the class replied, "Dang Mrs. K, why don't you just be blunt. What would you do if I asked you if Jock Itch was an anatomical disease?"

So I said, "I would tell you yes, it is also a disease of sorts. It is a fungus that one tends to get when skin is left moist and warm for extended periods of time which provides the optimal conditions for a fungus to grow. It can cause uncomfortable itching and has to be treated with an anti-fungal spray or cream."

To which he said, "Now you're just being gross like my mom. Why do moms just say crap like that with no warning or anything? You just say it like you're asking me what I want for lunch."

To which I said, "Except if I were your mom I wouldn't ask you what you wanted for lunch. You'd get what you get and you wouldn't throw a fit."

And finally, he said, "Geez, what would happen if we asked you about STD's or reproduction?"

And all I had to say was, "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

And he said, "No ma'am."

Good boy.

Which is sort of funny because when we went to WW tonight, there was a woman who was accusing her absent husband of sabotaging her diet by bringing home chocolate scones and peanut butter bars.

John suggested she talk to him about it, and tell him how she feels.

She replied that she had done that many times, but her husband was mad because along with her weight, she also lost her boobs.

And I have to say, I was uncomfortable and struck temporarily mute.

But I'm over it now.

See y'all!

A Question for the Ages

What constitutes sport?

Now, I know I'm about to upset some people, and for that I'm truly sorry, yet I will proceed.

Figure Skating? Not a sport

Cheerleading? Not a sport

Boxing? Sort of a sport- only if someone gets knocked out though- if you win by "points" it's not a sport.

Wrestling? Only if you win with a pin...otherwise, not a sport.

Hunting? Not a sport.

I know, I know Texas- I just sent you into a hissy fit, and I am sorry, but come on- a man with thumbs and a loaded weapon versus a docile animal with no thumbs, no weapon, and no knowledge of your presence?

Not a sport.

Deer aren't exactly elusive creatures, nor are ducks. Matter of fact, at any given time you can find plenty of both in our yard.

If you want to make hunting a sport, either arm the deer or have men hunt each other, you know like "The Most Dangerous Game" - now that's sport.

Paintball? Totally a sport. See above.

NASCAR? A sport.

Gymnastics? Not a sport.

Now, I'm not saying that the aforementioned activities don't require physical skill and athleticism, I will totally agree with you there.

As a matter of fact, I can distinctly remember a day back in 2003 when I was trying to impress both Coach and a gaggle of 12 year old girls with my gymnastic skills by launching myself into a running round-off.

Who knew that momentum and gravity were going to, at that moment, join together in a tryst that God himself would not put asunder and send me straight into my first back handspring since 1986.

Well, I'll say this - athleticism, though much needed, failed me, and what resulted was a middle aged woman being sprawled across a football field with what I was certain were two dislocated wrists, a rear-end hanging out of her shorts, and some deeply bruised pride.

Oh, and a standing ovation.

It was a proud moment.

But sport? Sport implies there is a worthy opponent. A worthy opponent that you simultaneously compete against, not just gravity. And at the end of the competition there is a visual victor with measurable results.

For instance, I ran faster than you, therefore I am the winner. See? Sport.

I knock you out cold, I am still conscious, again, I win. See? That's sport.

But, if you and I fight, and neither of us is knocked out, but we're both bloody, sweaty, and tired? Well, sweetheart, that's The Bachelor...and not a sport.

Which is why I say that boxing and wrestling only qualify if there is a knock-out or pin, otherwise there is some subjective scoring method that deals with "points" that only a qualified judge can award.

And once you start making that the only criteria for sport we'll have to start considering beauty pageants (or scholarship programs) sport.

Which will mean that women everywhere will start buying beer and attending Toddlers and Tiaras rallies at rodeos all over the country...

And then my friend, well then you've got a bad moon rising.

See y'all!

Hell Hath No Fury

Turns out the old saying actually goes "Hell hath no fury like a woman starved." Scorned is nothing.

Believe me, I've been both scorned and starved. Starved is much worse.

You can't smack starved.

Oh, did I mention it was Weight Watchers weigh-in day again?

I lost a respectable 1.6 pounds this week, and in other news, Mr. Rock Star didn't fare as well as he'd hoped, so he's moping a little bit.

And by not faring so well, I mean he lost 3 pounds in a week as opposed to his previous 7.

Anyway, I'm a little grumpy.

When I get grumpy I wonder about things.

I wonder about things like this:

1. Why is it that Coach chose to end my spiritual pilgrimage to see Diana's wedding dress with these words - "Charles was a moron."?

Duh. Of course he was.

And, have some respect for the tiaras man.

2. And for that matter, why was Coach so willing to drive 4 hours to take me to see the Diana exhibit?

(I know the answer to that. Now every time I say complain or say anything remotely negative he says, "Babe, come on, I went to the Princess Diana thing, what more can you want?")

And I pity him really, because the answer to that question is this: TO BE A PRINCESS WITH A TIARA.

Again, DUH.

Did you ever see the Lord of the Rings movies? Remember how weird everyone got about the ring? And how Gollum called it his Precious, and caressed it and loved it? Yeah, that pretty much sums up my feelings on the tiara.


3. Why do my children think that running bath water in my bathroom is an invitation to begin discussions regarding achieving world peace and who will pick them up from Brownies tomorrow?

4. Why can a guy eat twice as much food and lose three times as much weight?

5. What is so exciting about watching men drive around in circles for 500 miles?

6. Who thought up the rules for the biathlon? Cross country skiing and shooting a gun? I don't see the connection.

7. Has God grown tired of the sun? It seems that way, and with all due respect, I would like to go on the record as saying that while He may have grown tired of it, I have not; I kind of like warmth and light and photosynthesis.

8. Didn't mankind come to a consensus on acid washed jeans being a big fashion no-no? Because it seems as though Forever 21, Charlotte Russe, and Express missed the meeting.

9. Is nose hair really necessary? And if so, is it necessary for it to grow outside the nostril? And if so, is it necessary for the aesthetician to point it out and pluck it?

10. Is it weird that I am enthusiastically and solely enthralled with superfluous body hair and tiaras right now?

And ice cream.

Body hair, tiaras, and ice cream?

Because that's all I've got.

I'm spent.

See y'all.

Moody Blues

Things G said today (and I'm not adding a single thing)

1. "Obama has single-handedly ruined my life." When I asked him how Obama could have possibly ruined his life he replied with something about soldiers in Yemen and Health Care Reform.

You know the two things on the forefront of every 7th grader's mind.

2. "My life is just so hard. It's not fair." To which I replied: "You're right. Compared to the children in Haiti who are sick and dying alone in tents without food and water, you've really got it bad. I totally see it."

Let it be noted that he replied "Geez Mom, you don't have to be so blunt."

3. And my personal favorite - "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get up every single morning, go to school, deal with people all day, come home, eat dinner, and then just do homework?"

Me: "No, not a clue." SERIOUSLY????

And all of this was over some teenage angst regarding a science test on genetics.

Don't go there.

The irony is palpable.

See y'all!

And She'll Have Fun, Fun, Fun til Her Hubby Takes the Microphone Away

Ahem.

Coach and I hit quite a dry spell. Our idea of fun included fair-to-midland Mexican food and a trip to our local Borders. If we were feeling especially froggy we'd maybe swing through the Starbucks drive-through so Coach could visit his friend Belle, the Coffee Princess. Then we'd hurry home so I could layer up in polar fleece and grab my computer while Coach stripped down to shorts and a t-shirt and did the same.

Big fun I tell you. Huge.

A couple of months ago Boo Mama and Big Mama were coming to Nashville for a visit, and to prove my aforementioned point about fun, I did recommend that they go to San Antonio Taco Company (which I still love- sue me, I like mediocre Mexican food).

It was a bold recommendation. Especially since Big Mama is from SAN ANTONIO.

It was the six-inch heel of recommendations- you have to be sure in your abilities to pull 'em off, and as I have come to find out, you have to be confident in your cuisine when you recommend Mexican food to a Texan.

Things could go awry quickly, and before you know it, you could end up with a hostile and slightly sick Texan on your hands.

Which I did.

And what I've learned through this whole blogging experience is this:

Don't Mess With Texas.

It was a rookie mistake, and it turns out, the first sign that Coach and I might need to, you know, GET OUT and have some fun.

So, this weekend- we did.

It started out benignly enough. We went to a benefit concert for our little 3-year-old friend Madelyn, who is fighting leukemia. We listened to some unbelievable musicians- one who had been Kenny Rogers's guitarist for 32 years, but sadly he would NOT play "The Gambler."

Not for love or money.

But, Ron, the Asian guy at the karaoke bar we ended up at later did. He also sang "Sweet Caroline" and "Rocky Mountain High." Then a man with some cartoon elf shoes and an offensive t-shirt sang some Johnny Cash. Solid gold.

And before I knew it Coach and one of his coaching buddies who can only be described as a Sasquatchesque Mr. Clean were singing "Man I Feel Like a Woman." Mmm mmm mmm. Good times.

Twas here that the fun commenced.

A few moments later I found myself performing "Proud Mary," doing the Cha-cha slide with my new friend DeAndre, and signing up to sing "Picture" with Coach- he was going to be Kid Rock and I was going to be Sheryl Crowe.

It seemed as though the first sign of the Apocalypse was upon us. Thankfully, they never called us, and the world was spared from impending doom...

For now.

Because the problem with Nashville is this- the karaoke bars are full of aspiring musicians. We've been in little honky tonks where Axl Rose has jumped on stage and performed "Every Rose Has Its Thorn," and Bon Jovi is the guy who plays the breaks between the house band's sets.

The music...it's serious.

So Texas, you go ahead and claim guacamole and Mexican cuisine as your own. We've claimed music.

And I can boldly and confidently say this: we WILL rock you.

Anyway, back to our fun: we karaoked, we danced, we laughed with friends...

And the coup de grace....

We ate Krystal at 12:30.

Did you know that "coup de grace" is French for "a final death blow"?

Yeah, that's why I used it.

So, all this to say we got out, did something we've NEVER done before, had ourselves an absolute blast, and found some entertainment for our Texan friends should they ever return to our fair city.

So Big Mama and Boo Mama, y'all come on back. This time I'll recommend a fun and fajita-free evening in Music City followed by some Krystals.

Much better than the Guacamole Incident of 2009.

See y'all!

May the Force Be With You

It seems as though AC might have started a new science unit at school. I know this because she keeps trying to explain friction and gravity to me.

She has no idea how intimate I am with those two concepts. While running, friction is the constant reminder that I should have NEVER stopped running in the first place, but since I did, I am rewarded by fire-starting friction in the thigh and underarm area.

And gravity, well, let's not go there. All I can say is that gravity becomes VERY unfriendly once you have a baby, and as much as I love the South, I wish my rear-end and top parts didn't so much.

Anyway, yesterday we were walking across campus at school when she declared with great verve and passion that she hated math.

To which I said, "Get used to it sister, math makes the world go around. Well, math and chocolate."

To which she said, "No mother, you're wrong. Gravity and force make the world go around."

Well, of course.

See y'all!

Santa Claus Came to Town

Christmas doesn't get much better than when there are scads of children running around. As you can tell from AC and her cousin C- the excitement reached gut-busting levels.

They were so overcome with excitement at the thought of a visit from Santa that they literally flipped out.

G. was so excited about his visit and the iTouch that Santa left that he smiled without being forced and sported a kicky faux hawk for the camera.

Cousin M, after coughing like a seal for several minutes straight (darned asthma), became giddy over Rudolph cupcakes because he has the best aunt EVER... She might have also delivered battery operated GI Joe toys, and really - if you're a seven year old boy what else do you need if you've got a steady supply of sugar and ammunition?

Cousin H. sucks the marrow out of life, and he also sucks the icing off of Rudolph's face and then joyfully devours his blow-pop nose. You can tell he's distraught over Rudolphs untimely and gruesome demise.

Cousin K. enjoyed her chocolate so much that you can see that she smeared some on her forehead for later. She also stored quite a few cake crumbs in her hair- I think she was anticipating a long night of waiting for the big guy.

And after dinner eating, Santa tracking, movie watching, present opening, and cupcake destroying was all over a hush fell over the room, and we found these three completely undone and collapsed watching Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.



It's a sweet, sweet time. Merry Christmas to you and your families. We are so thankful for all of you and especially for our sweet Lord who allowed all of this to come to pass.

Say It In a Letter

(So I'm cheating a little bit- here's our letter that went out with MOST of our Christmas cards- apparently my envelope stuffers missed a few- if you were one of them- here you go.)

Hey there!

Merry Christmas from our home to yours! We’re hoping that your year was as blessed as ours. Thankfully we managed to avoid Somali pirates, the swine flu, and Zhu Zhu pets; I wish I could say the same for animal bracelets and the Miley Cyrus movie.

While we did have a blessed year, we got off to a shaky start. We had to put G. on suicide watch for the inauguration of the President; turns out he channeled Alex P. Keaton sans the briefcase, and cursed democrats everywhere. We told him not to worry though, because really- healthcare and protection from terrorists are such trivial issues compared to say, befriending Castro. Clearly, there’s no need to panic.

Well, there was need to panic, but not over politics. This year we took on vegetable gardening, and because Coach and I both lack the ability to do things in moderation, we ended up with crops. Thirty tomato plants and untold dozens of pepper, squash, zucchini, cucumber, okra, carrot, green bean, and strawberry plants later we ended up with a freezer full of produce. There would have been corn too had it not been for the 4th of July raccoon massacre. Don’t even go there- let’s just suffice it to say I will be HIGHLY disappointed if I don’t get a Coon Hound named Neyland for Christmas.

Speaking of Neyland, we took the kids to their first UT game this year. Aside from sitting on the surface of the sun for a noon game, we had great fun. We made a weekend of it taking them to a cabin and tubing river rapids in the mountains. In one of my most loving gestures as a mother, I chose to honor G’s 13th birthday on the river by ripping my rear-end open on a rock and subsequently getting 13 stitches on my left cheek. All was well though- it gave Coach the opportunity to talk to Gaylord Fokker, the male nurse practitioner, about bow hunting elk in New Mexico or Montana or somewhere.

Yes, I said G. is 13. He is 5’6 and at my goal weight with no signs of slowing down. Seems we’re not going to escape puberty at our house. One is in the throes as we speak, and the other two are gearing up by exercising their ability to go from laughing to crying in the blink of an eye. The girls are 9 now and obsessed with animal bracelets and Littlest Pet Shop animals. I’m totally fine with that- as both are much less expensive than an obsession with shoes.

The blog has opened up many opportunities for me, and I’ve met some really great friends. Please visit us there to keep up with all the craziness: http://totalmomsense.net. It’s a chronicle of what we’re learning while we walk through the adventure of parenting and teaching kids. There are also recipes- lots of recipes- because if we don’t love anytning else here, we love good food. (For the record, the chicken pastry bundles are out of this world- kids love them, adults love them, and the recipe makes 12. You can’t lose with this one.)

We hope you have a Merry Christmas with your family, and we pray that you will enjoy blessings and good health in the coming year. Call us or come by whenever you want- we’d love to see your smiles!

See Y’all!
Coach, Traci, and the nuts…

Warm Wishes and Best Dishes

I had a grandmother that could put Paula Deen to shame, and just like Paula Deen, she showed no fear at the mention of butter or deep frying. Buddy, as all of her grandchildren called her, died in January of 1994 right after the holidays.

At her funeral one of the things I heard over and over again was how she made the best fried pies anyone had ever eaten. She's been dead over 15 years and people still talk about her fried pies.

My mom made the fried pies over the weekend as she proclaimed on her facebook page which subsequently sent her entire network of friends into some sort of fried pie frenzy. It was both funny and sweet. Anyway, I told my mom I would put the recipe here so that all her people could get the recipe and forward it along, thus also forwarding along the craziness that is our home.


Welcome to our home. Well, our den anyway, but this is where we spend the majority of our time. So, from our house to yours, enjoy some of Buddy's most famous recipes.

Buddy's Fried Pies
8 oz. pkg. dried peaches
8 oz. pkg. dried apricots
3 cups water
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup sugar
4 cups flour
2 teaspoons of salt
2/3 cup shortening
3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese (yes, seriously- it's the secret)
1 1/2 cups cold milk

Cook fruit in water approximately 1 hour or until tender. Drain and mash, add honey and sugar. Meanwhile in a large bowl mix flour, salt, shortening, cheese and milk together in that order to form dough. Turn out on floured board and knead. Roll out 1/4 at a time , cut into squares and add approximately a tablespoon of fruit mixture, fold dough over and seal with a wet fork. Fry in oil in 350-400 degree oven, turning once.

** The secret is to get the dough very thin. VERY thin. I use a rubbermaid sandwich container to cut the dough into a square and I put a little more than a tablespoon of fruit in them.

She was also known for her Cranberry Salad. As a matter-of-fact, she made a whole bunch the Christmas before she died and she personally walked around the neighborhood delivering it to the neighbors. She told my grandfather she wanted to do it because she wouldn't be around to see another Christmas. We have no idea how she knew.

Cranberry Salad


1 pkg. cherry jello
1 1/2 cup hot water
2 cups ground cranberries
1 whole orange, ground
1 cup sugar
1 cup celery chopped
1 apple chopped
1 cup pecans chopped
1 small can crushed pineapple
Pour sugar over ground cranberries and orange. Add prepared jello. Add chopped celery, apples, pineapple, and nuts. Refrigerate.

Butterscotch Cookies (My favorite Christmas memory- and not really butterscotch at all)

1/2 lb. butter softened
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/8 cup white sugar
1 egg yolk
2 1/2 cups flour
Make stiff dough. Roll into 1 inch balls then flatten. Place a pecan half on top and bake at 425 for about 10 minutes.

Happy pie making!

See y'all!

Sunday Supper: It's Beginning to Smell a Lot Like Christmas Edition

I don't know about you, but December is a month of big fun, and because we're out having all the big fun, there hasn't been as much time for blogging...or cooking...

until today.

Today I baked and cooked a big dinner that we ate on the Christmas dishes, because that's just how we roll around here in December.

I'll do a cookie-palooza later this week. I thought I'd just give you some ideas for supper today.

First dinner, then a pictorial tour of the first 18 days of December.

Sound good?


Marinated Pork Tenderloin (or Steak with the Seeds on It as AC has named it)

1 pkg. pork tenderloin (or you can just get boneless pork chops) cut into fillets
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup brown sugar
3 Tablespoons Dijon mustard (I use the kind with the whole mustard seeds- thus AC's name for the pork)
3 Tablespoons whiskey (you can use water if you must, but the whiskey makes it richer)

Mix the soy sauce, brown sugar, mustard, and whiskey together in a large Ziploc bag. Put pork in the bag and marinate. (I let it sit all day in the fridge)

Grill until cooked through.


Balsamic Glazed Broccoli
2 bunches of broccoli cut up (I just buy the bagged florets)
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup butter
2 Tablespoons brown sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of pepper

Steam broccoli and put in a serving bowl. In a saucepan cook balsamic vinegar on medium high heat until it is reduced by half. Then add the butter, brown sugar, salt, and pepper. Pour over broccoli and serve.


Mashed Potato Casserole
6 potatoes peeled and diced
1 teaspoon minced garlic
8 oz sour cream
8 oz cream cheese
2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese

Put potatoes in saucepan covered with water. Salt and add garlic. Boil until tender. Pour potatoes into mixing bowl, add sour cream and cream cheese and beat until smooth. Pour into a 2 quart casserole dish and top with cheese. Bake at 350-400 until cheese is bubbly and golden.

Dickens of a Christmas downtown. The kids love this- the entire town is decked out in their 19th century finest and they wander the streets speaking in an English accent saying things like Bah-humbug and throwing pennies at them.

Told you- priceless.

AC saw the woman in the white dress and was awestruck- pictures had to be taken. She's been dreaming and drawing wedding dresses ever since. Apparently she likes the cream puff look. Here's hoping her tastes mature a bit before she marries. Heck, here's hoping SHE matures a bit before she marries.


They also had to have their picture made with the ghost of Christmas past. Friendly fellow- threatened them with their lives if they didn't behave.


I'm pretty sure this guy is left over from the Pumpkin Fest in October. We also have a picture of the girls with Chewbacca from that particular festival. I'll save that pic for another day, because you can only enjoy so many pictures of my children with fictional characters before you grow tired.

Tired yet?



This was AC's Christmas program at school. She's nowhere in the picture. I have dozens of her standing and singing, but I thought the light was sweet here. It makes it even sweeter when you know they were singing "Away in a Manger."

Told you. Very sweet.



How about this for some cupcake creativity? I know. I KNOW. And no, I didn't make them, but I was instructed by AC, our cruise director for the holiday season, that in order for her Christmas to be truly complete, we must make these.

If your child decides the same- the nose is a blow pop (trim the stick), the mouth is 1/2 gummy lifesaver, the eyes are white m&m's with a dot of black icing. (You can get white m&m's at some grocery stores or at the candy store in the mall - well if you have a candy store in your mall. Apparently we do, and apparently they have quite a selection of colored m&m's for your decorating pleasure.) And the antlers are large pretzels that are broken in half. The mom who made these said she spent more time than was prudent trying to break the things in half without them crumbling into pieces.

Sounds like a job for Coach.



AC and Me with the real Santa. He lives right here in Franklin. We saw him two summers ago at the bank. AC was struck speechless and dumb. He walked right up to her in his Tommy Bahama shirt, flip flops, and shorts and asked her if she was being good. He told her he summered in Franklin and was keeping his eye on her.

Best July of my entire life. Hands down.

Y'all enjoy supper. I'll put up recipes for all the cookies in the next couple of days. Happy Sunday!

Elfin Magic

Looks like Clyde finally decided to come back today. It wouldn't be Christmas without one more person to clean up after. Of course, that's really more Coach's worry- I'm totally fine with a mild mess.

You must know that G doesn't really prefer to entertain Clyde, nor does V. They are both a little "creeped out" by him, and G finds him slightly annoying because of all the mess. (That's what I tell myself, actually he's slightly annoyed with all of us for, you know, breathing and existing and not being 13. You know how it is right? Seriously, someone who has an adolescent one, tell me you know how it is!!!)



So, Clyde is hanging out in AC's room today, because frankly, after the mess he made on the floor he's probably going to be on Coach's most wanted list, and right now we're all on G's most wanted list. Truly, I think Clyde prefers AC's room mostly because she has a stash of Hershey's Kisses and gum.



This is where I predict Coach's head will explode and an epic dustbusting frenzy will ensue.



I also predict that AC will try to eat Clyde's marshmallow snowballs. Then I predict she'll go into the bathroom to spit out carpet fuzz, and finally I predict that we'll all have to listen to a much hyperbolized version of the carpet fuzz debacle.



All the while, Clyde waits patiently for the little one to come home and find him so her Christmas can finally begin!

Below is a link to a personalized Santa video. I'm sure if you're nice he'd be happy to send on your way as well!

http://portablenorthpole.tv/watch/a08ab1dac8245878ade2a9083346a802

See y'all!

If You're Not First, You're Last

Well, apparently Ivy the Seizing Dog has now developed bronchitis.

Yes, I did just say that the dog has bronchitis.

Didn't know that could happen did you? Yeah, me neither, but apparently dogs can, in fact, come down with a nasty case of bronchitis.

So now she sounds like a coughing child ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

And not to be outdone by the dog, it also seems that I have been seized by Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, which is funny since I don't really believe in Carpal Tunnel Syndrome- I used to like to think that was one of those psychosomatic illnesses.

Turns out, not so much.

And sadly, I think that it's all the virtual crop harvesting on Farmville that has caused this condition.

So, we'll keep it short.

My goal was to be finished with the Christmas preparations by Thanksgiving so that the holiday season could be fully enjoyed without my head exploding. I also wanted to be the first Christmas card in everyone's mailbox this year. (It's a sickness, I know. Competition is not pretty on me- not even a little bit.)

And I did it; I was the first. And not only was I the first, the card was complete with a witty Christmas letter and decorative stamps. Ha!

I told you- it's not pretty at all on me.

But I will say this, I think the card was darlin' and there was nary a Ninja in sight, but you be the judge.




See y'all! (I've got to go ice my wrist!)

Celebrate Cyber Monday

I have a confession. I'm finished.

Finished with shopping, with decorating, with Christmas Card picturing, addressing, and mailing.

Finished. Finis. Finissimo. I. BE. DONE.

Memories of Christmases during my childhood were magical. My dad would start teasing us about the first of December saying "I know somebody who is going to be awfully surprised when Santa comes..." or the ever predictable, "Boy, you sure are getting something neat for Christmas..."

And then we'd look at my mom, and she had this wild-eyed frenzied grin on her face- one that we mistook for raw Christmas excitement, but now I know better.

I recognize that face now. I recognize it because it's the face of pure unadulterated Christmas anxiety. It's the grin that hides the reality: the lists, the shopping, the acquiring and ironing of Christmas performance clothes, the classroom Christmas party cookies, the lists, the office parties, the secret Santa gifts, the lists, the cards, the purchasing of wrapping paraphernalia, the toy store wrestling matches, the traffic, the lists, the cooking, the family schedules, the lists, the making of shepherd costumes, the baking, and the wreath making, the wrapping...and the list goes on, oh and did I say the lists? Because it seems that everywhere I turn there are lists.

And let's be honest here, while men are great for a shopping day here and there, and they can certainly drum up some Christmas hullabaloo around the house, you can really only count on them for so much of the Christmas prep- they'll hang lights on the tree, and maybe put some wreathes on the windows, but girlie- you are left with the rest of it. So you smack on that scary wild-eyed grin and run with wild abandon through December.

Now there's good news, it doesn't have to be that way thanks to my BFF, the internet. Is it wrong that the three things I was most thankful for on Thursday were my faith, family, and free shipping?

Maybe it's shallow, I don't know. I do know this: I am finished shopping and I will spend the rest of this holiday season focusing on the important things like faith and family, and if free shipping was the provider of that peace, then so be it.

So, ladies, take advantage of Cyber Monday. Go ahead, let your fingers do the shopping.

And in case you're stumped on where to begin, I posted a few pics to get you going.



A Snuggie for your cold-natured dog.


A suit for the executive dog.

A Squall jacket and hat for those of you who live in rainy climates,

and for the fashionista dog, a shearling coat.

No, I'm not kidding- every single one of those items can be found for purchase online!

Happy shopping!

See Y'all!

Some Day My Prince Will Come

Tonight Coach and I had a real live date where we went to dinner and a football game alone, and he wasn't coaching.

Anyway, we got a little chilled, so after the game we went to Starbucks where Coach made himself a new friend:

Perky Starbucks Girl (who we'll now refer to as PSG): "Hello there, what can I get you this lovely evening? " (And y'all I am NOT exaggerating when I tell you that she spoke in a Disney Princess talking to birds and deer in a meadow kind of voice.)

Coach: "Can we get a grande hot chocolate?"

PSG: "Ooooooh good choice. Can I put a shot of peppermint in that for you?"

Me (to Coach): "oh no- yuck."

Coach: "No, not tonight thanks. And can I also get a Tall Peppermint Mocha decaf?"

PSG: "Oh sure. Can I tempt you with a double chocolate brownie or a biscotti as well?"

Coach: "No than--"

PSG: "Oooooh, but it's tempting isn't it? Mmmm mmm."

Me: Eyes rolling as I mouth "seriously" to Coach

Coach: "Yes, very tempting, but I think we're good."

PSG: "Okay, that will be $6.99. I'll see you when you turn the corner."

Me: (thinking to myself) Yeah, I'm gonna turn your corner sister.

Coach: (to me) "Oh babe, she's just enjoying her job."

And again, I am not exaggerating...

Coach: "Oh my. I do believe that PSG has a bejeweled headset. Are those sequins?"

Me: "Yes. Her headset, is in fact, bejeweled. So lame. And are those cartooned bluebirds flying around her head???"

Coach: "Be nice. There's nothing wrong with bejeweling your headset."

Me: "Hmmmph. I bet Big Mama would have a HUGE problem with a bejeweled headset. Matter of fact, I'm totally writing in to see if she'll comment on whether bejeweling is in or out this season."

Coach: "Big Mama?"

Me; "Do you even know me?"

Our turn to pay...

PSG: "Hello there! Here is your hot chocolate. Your peppermint mocha is coming right...." She looks around a moment "Huh. Well goodness, let me go find out where that mocha is."

Coach: Grinning ridiculously at this point, he looks at me "She's older than I pictured her."

Me: "Why are you picturing her. And SERIOUSLY????"

Coach: "Oh babe..."

PSG: "Here's your mocha sir. Have a lovely evening." BIG. SPARKLY. STARBUCKS. GRIN.

Coach: "Thank you. You have a lovely evening too." BIG. SPARKLY. STARBUCKS. GRIN.

Me: "Really Coach? You just said lovely. I've never known you to say lovely."

Coach: "What? I'm just being nice."

Me: "Why are you being so weird? You're all jolly and giddy"

Coach: "I'm always jolly and giddy. I'm a happy guy."

Me: "Dude, I live with you. The gig is up."

Coach: "Mmm. The peppermint makes my gums tingle...." BIG. SPARKLY. STARBUCKS. GRIN.

So, it looks like I've got to go find a bejeweled headset, learn how to make peppermint mochas, and sing "Some Day My Prince Will Come" whenever he enters the room.

See y'all.

Meet Mack

How can you not love this face?

My mom would be quick to count the ways. It's a short list. 1. He jumps on people 2. He made her swan dive across our porch and into the storm door...head first.




But really, he's harmless. He just thinks he's a chihuahua; he loves to sit in your lap, jump up and greet you when you come home, and when you're running he thinks you're inviting him to play "wrestle."

But since Kelly is doing a post on pets, I thought I'd give you ten random Mack facts;

1. He is addicted to tennis balls. He won't let you touch him if he has one. He just wants you to throw it for him, and he'll fetch for hours. Seriously, last summer we had to physically put him in the pool we bought him so he could cool down- he ended up propping his head on the side and taking a nap.

2. His favorite food is M&M's. And yes, I know chocolate is not good for him; we give him two- no more. But I'm telling you, it's like giving him Prozac.

3. He has two mortal enemies: hot air balloons and plastic grocery sacks. We have hot air balloons fly over our neighborhood regularly because there are many fields around our house where they are able to land. Mack will bark at them until he has foamed an entire beard on himself.

4. He loves to play with other dogs; especially Maverick when he gets loose. If you haven't read about Maverick, he's a 128 pound Pit Bull that goes on the lamb every so often and comes over for a play date. We've tried to tell Mack to choose his friends wisely, but you know teenagers, they just don't listen.

5. He cries to go to bed at night. Every night, like clockwork, his head pops up in the back door and he cries until Coach puts him in his kennel for the night.

6. He sleeps with his tennis ball.

7. When he is allowed to come in, he likes to lay on top of me like a blanket- an 80 pound blanket that drools and occasionally passes gas.

8. He swims under water like a human. It's weird and honestly, a little disconcerting.

9. When we take him to a farm that some friends own to swim in their pond he swims right through the gaggle of ducks he is born to hunt to fetch his ball. Every single time.

10. He loves us all unconditionally, and really what more can you ask? Even if it is a love that is complete with drool, dog hair, and a little gas.

See y'all!

Where She Be?

Between reading this...



and grading these...



and going to soccer games and football games and brownie meetings and basketball practice and the doctor and the pharmacy and the grocery and working and, you know, breathing occasionally...

there hasn't been much time for blogging this week.

No worries though. Life is just as nuts as always around here, so I'll be back momentarily with more Momsense!

In the meantime, check out Miss Leslie. She seriously had the most amazing inaugural Tennessee Vol football exerience EVER.

I think the only thing she didn't do was run through the "T" - or maybe she did, only time will tell.

See y'all tomorrow...or maybe Thursday. :)

Morning Talk Show

Mornings are not usually our best time.

Let's just leave it at that.

This morning things started off better than normal, G has a cold and is too weary to fight after having a soccer game and a million hours of homework last night.

AC, who hits the floor talking at the speed of light, started as she always does- we played 1000 questions while I was in the shower, she travelled the house and methodically destroyed every room she entered, burned some oatmeal, and then finally relented and got in the car.

And then she opened up her Bible.

She's been going to Students in Touch, a prayer group that meets every Wednesday morning and prays for fellow students, families, and the school. This past Wednesday the teacher that leads them was teaching them about praying scripture over people. Then she told them to look in their Bibles for a passage of scripture that they could pray over someone.

Apparently AC has taken this task very seriously because she's been searching. This morning she read the passage she wants to pray:

"How beautiful your sandaled feet, O prince's daughter!

Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftsman's hands.

Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine.
Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by lilies.

Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is like an ivory tower.

Your eyes are the pools of Heshbon by the gate of Bath Rabbim.

Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon looking toward Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel.

Your hair is like royal tapestry; the king is held captive by its tresses.

How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights!

Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit.

I said, "I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit."

May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples,
and your mouth like the best wine."

That my friends, would be the seventh chapter of the Song of Solomon. And she read it with more gusto than a cheerleader on Homecoming.

I cannot begin to describe the look on G's face. Priceless. And all he could say was, "Seriously?" And try as he might, a great big ole grin spread across his face.

Why did she pick this particular passage? Because she likes shoes, fruit, and climbing trees. My my my, all I can say is this: watch your children because my child just prayed that someone will take hold of your child's fruit.

It might be time for The Talk.

Then I asked G about the standardized testing they've been doing at school. He said it's all easy except for the Quantitative Reasoning sections. I asked him what kinds of questions he was being asked. His reply?

"It's like math, but with words and numbers, and you have to think about it, you can't just figure it out."

Huh. That has been my experience with the entirety of the mathematical world. Which is why I have denied the existence of numbers and finite answers since I left pre-calculus in college.

Hey, by the way, did you know you can get a math credit for taking Astronomy?

You know why?

Because you have to do math. (Trust me on this, I'm speaking from experience, a very, very, bad experience).

BUT, the piece de resistance of the morning? It has to be this little jewel from a student:

Me: "Okay everybody, tell me what Odysseus' unhealable wound is."

Thing 1: "Hey Mrs. Momsense, did you know Sam can whistle through his eyeballs?"

Let's recap:

1. AC is praying for intimate pleasure for her fellow elementary school classmates, but it's all good, because really she thinks she's praying that they will all have good shoes, grapes at snack, and fun climbing trees at recess, although she was disappointed that there are no palm trees at school. All I can say there is Thank You Lord.
2. G finds math with numbers and letters difficult, especially when it requires thought. Conclusion: he is his mother's son.
3. And finally, Sam can whistle through his eyeballs if ever the need arises.

And all of that was before 8:15 this morning.

Happy Weekend. I'll put some Sunday Supper up this weekend.

See Y'all!

The Early Bird Gets the Doughnut

Have you ever had a morning? You know one of those mornings that can destroy your entire year in a matter of 35 minutes.

Yeah, well. We had one. Today.

It's nothing serious, just a string of minor annoyances that aligned themselves into a series of attacks that could rival D-Day.

First, there are some things you need to know to fully appreciate the chaos. I joined Weight Watchers last Thursday...again.

You also need to know that for some diet-related reason I have not been able to get my mind off Boo Mama's post on the Pumpkin Spice Latte' from Starbucks.

And because we are only virtual friends, you will not know that I am repulsed by coffee, but I am. Can't stand it. Yet the PSL (that's Boo-Mama Speak for Pumpkin Spice Latte') had me intrigued.

Actually, not intrigued- just obsessed with doughnuts.

If you didn't make the jump with me from PSL to doughnuts let me back up a bit more. A few weeks ago Coach said he'd like to try a pumpkin doughnut from Dunkin Donuts. Boo Mama's talk of PSL's helped me remember Coach wanted a pumpkin doughnut. And we're here- Boo Mama's talk of PSL's naturally made me go straight to doughnuts. Because while I do not like coffee one little bit, doughnuts are an entirely different story.

I'd consider selling a child for one.

Which partially explains why I joined Weight Watchers last week...again.

A combination of dreary cool weather, a lack of sleep, and boredom led me to spend most of yesterday dreaming about doughnuts. More specifically a Dunkin Donuts blueberry cake doughnut. Mmmmmm mmmmm mmmm.

AC and I had some time to kill yesterday while G was at soccer practice so we ran to the bank to deposit donations from co-workers for little Madelyn and her family. And in what can only be explained as divine intervention, I learned the bank was near our city's ONLY Dunkin Donuts.

One problem. No WW points left. Looks like the diet was going to dash my doughnut dreams.

Unless...

I could pretend that the reason for the trip was to buy Coach some pumpkin doughnuts and let the kids choose a couple for breakfast today. I NEVER let them eat doughnuts for breakfast- this was huge.

AC's head almost popped off.

So, in we went to buy the doughnuts. 1 dozen. I got Coach 3 pumpkin doughnuts, AC picked out flavors for her and G, and I got ONE. SOLITARY. BLUEBERRY. DOUGHNUT.

Yes, Mom- just one. (she'll never believe this)

And in a move that amazed Coach and left him speechless, I refrained from eating the blueberry doughnut last night because I had reached my point limit on Weight Watchers (WW).

So, I would wait until breakfast today. I spent well over an hour planning what I would eat today in order to fit in the 7 point doughnut- precisely 1/3 of my daily allowance of calories on one doughnut.

And SOOOOOOOO worth it.

Y'all I talked about that doughnut last night until Coach had a stroke.

Now that you know more than you've ever wanted to about my battle with the bulge and Dunkin Donuts, I'll continue on with my original story.

I was up until 3:00 am. I had to finish a video for the pep assembly this morning so that I could meet the technology dude at 7:30 to get it set up. (I might have also harvested some of AC's crops on Farmville- it's brought out some serious agriculturally related OCD in me.)

We have to be up NO LATER than 6:00 am in order to make it to school on time. This morning we woke up at 6:35.

Oh sure.

Coach shot out of bed and made like Flash Gordon down the hall to ensure he had time to do his pregame sweeping & laundry schtick before he got dressed.

I ran around the bedroom chanting "It's time to eat the doughnut!"

Moments later as I was getting into the shower Coach came back in the bedroom a little dumbfounded and laughing because when he made it into the kitchen, G was sitting at the table completely dressed, bed made, room cleaned, soccer gear ready to go, eating doughnuts like he was Ward Cleaver or something.

He did not oversleep. He was up promptly at 6:00. Totally relaxed; totally into his breakfast.

Which begs the question "Why didn't he wake us up?" and then in one of the clearest moments of intuition I have ever experienced, I backed up. "You said he was in the kitchen eating doughnuts?"

And at the same time Coach and I both registered looks of pure, unadulterated terror.

I yelled down the hall, "Hey Buddy, what kind of doughnut are you eating?"

"The blueberry one." was all he said.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" was all I could say. And I promise I had to fight back tears.

Coach immediately took cover...and then he started laughing.

My head exploded.

You will never know the levels of restraint and disclipline I achieved last night.

NEVER KNOW.

And apparently I'll never know the wonderment of a Dunkin Donut blueberry doughnut.

See y'all!

A Preview of Things to Come

I watched Marley & Me three times this past weekend.

I know, I'm a glutton for punishment, but sometimes I just need a good cry.

(Well that, and it seems that this movie might just be the Momsense family kryptonite- seriously, as soon as that dog had to take a second trip to the vet, the room cleared- Coach started dust busting, G went for a run, and AC went running off somewhere to cut large amounts of paper into confetti for the sheer fun of it. Whatever. The room cleared, and it was more than quiet; it was serene.)

That was Thursday night. I watched it Saturday morning uninterrupted, and again on Sunday afternoon which literally caused a dust busting frenzy before Coach left for Coach's meeting- I'm positive that in the entirety of human history there has never been a man more thankful for a stinky football office, a couple dozen cookies and cupcakes, and six other befuddled men than Coach.

I think I've said it before, estrogen is his arch nemesis.

It's been "iffy" here at best. I'm just off, and don't really know why. I did, however, get a good cry in on Thursday after my first movie screening which did not go unnoticed by AC. She asked what was wrong, and I debated on whether or not I should tell her the truth.

I'm not sure that even she would understand that I was crying because I'm at an impass on what to do with my hair (cut it or keep it)... and that I had left my iPod at school and therefore could not pretend that I was about to go out and run... and that I believed my pores to be hideously huge... and that I wanted to read a book, but couldn't decide which one... and that no one had sent me flowers in a really long time, and you know, sometimes flowers just make you not cry... and that I wanted to cuddle up on the couch with the dog, but all he wanted to do was play fetch... and that the kids were getting old and didn't want to go to the pumpkin patch anymore... and that Tennessee was getting ready to play Alabama and I hate losing football games that I do not play in, and therefore have no control over... and, well, you get the picture.

I was pretty sure she wouldn't understand that I was in mourning for all that was trivial and shallow.

So, I simply told her I was tired and the movie was sad. (Which technically was true)

Imagine my surprise tonight when I heard wailing from the bathroom after I asked her to brush her teeth. I went in asked her what was wrong, she told me, I comforted her, she stopped crying. No harm, no foul.

Until 3 minutes later.

When she appeared in the den with chin quivering and said "Can you come in my room? I need to talk to you."

Oh my. The kiss of death.

When I sat on her bed and asked her what was wrong she just started sobbing.

I asked her again. She shrugged her shoulders.

Then through sobbing and snubbing she managed to get out that her brain "was all crazy" and her "eyes kept crying without stopping" and then she flung her body into my lap and let loose.

It lasted 20 seconds.

Then she looked at me and asked if we could watch Marley and Me tomorrow.

And so it looks like Team Estrogen just drafted a new member. Team Testosterone is now officially outnumbered 3-2.

Game on.

See y'all!