Archives for February 2006

I’m sure Mike DuBose will do a great job at Millsaps.

I’m always happy to see a person get a second chance.

But this job being “a landing place where he and [his] wife…can retire”?

I doubt it.

Call me cynical, but I think it’s a step up on a ladder that leads straight back to the promised land of Division I football.

And this time around? I bet you a dollar to a donut that his secretary is pushing 80, tough as nails, and will slap his face if he so much as cuts his eyes the wrong way.

Thoughts?

Now, I try to be careful about the cutesy Alex stories, for reasons I’ll explain below. But this one, well, it’s funny. At least to me. So I’ll share.

I believe it’s been well-established that Alex is a talker, a chatty fella, if you will. But he’s now taking the talking one step further and repeating every. single. thing. his daddy says or does. Fortunately, his daddy doesn’t really say or do anything inappropriate (unless he’s tackling a home improvement project). It’s just that his daddy is very funny, and Alex tries to imitate the funny, and much hilarity ensues.

So last night, when I let David know that supper was ready, he walked into the kitchen, looked at all the fixins, and immediately began to sing an impromptu homily: “Sweet Mary, Mother of God, we have some meaaaaat-baaaallls.” Alex, who was standing in a kitchen chair, watched every move his daddy made, and then, perfectly on pitch: “Sweet Mary, mother of God, we got some meaaaaat-baaaallls.”

I mean, that IS funny. Exact same inflections. Exact same expressions. Couldn’t have sung it any better if he were administering the sacraments on a Sunday morning.

Last week I actually posted another example of how A. imitates his daddy, but David thought it just reeked of “Oh look at my child – isn’t he just an angel, an angel straight from heaven,” so I deleted the post. Don’t get me wrong – I think it’s wonderful to adore your children, but I try not to venture overboard lest my friends and family be tempted to ram their vehicles into large concrete barriers after reading the blog. The last thing in the world I want to be is That Mama, the one who puts up the facade that everything in her family is just perfect and wonderful and she never gets tired of meaningful interaction with her children and really, even though she tries to be humble about it, she’s tempted to put a bumper sticker on the back of her Suburban that says World’s Greatest Mom because she IS, y’all. She IS.

A couple of months ago I had to take A. to the doctor on a Sunday, and there were two other families in the waiting room. One family was sitting quietly, but the other family? Well, let’s just say that the MOTH-er? Who was READ-ing? BOOKS? To her LIT-tle GIRL? In loud SING-SONG tones? And “OH, SWEET-heart, do you SEE the BIRD in that PIC-ture? THAT is so PRET-ty! Isn’t that PRET-ty? OH, YES, the bird IS blue! VERY GOOD!” She went on and on, with EVERY DETAIL more EXCITING than the LAST!

It probably goes without saying that I have a hard time relating to mothers who talk to their children like they’re being filmed for some Learning Channel special about how to interact with toddlers, like the mamas in Target who so patiently explain, “NO, Hannah Grace, we don’t eat COOK-ies before LUNCH-TIME, but you can have a ba-NAN-a if you’d like” because meanwhile, I’m over on the canned goods aisle gritting my teeth down to nubs, with my face one inch from Alex’s, hissing, “Sit down in the cart. Right now. If you don’t sit. down. right. now. I will WEAR. YOU. OUT. Because I have HAD IT.”

Anyway, after the woman who was reading books in the doctor’s office got called back to a room, the other mother, the quiet mother, looked at me, looked at her husband, looked to make sure the READ-ing mother wasn’t listening and said, “Mark my word. She keeps THAT up? Reading like that? Her little girl will jump off of a building by the time she’s five.”

Now THAT’s a mama I’d like to know better.

Okay – so it’s not really a big secret that I am not a huge romantic. I am probably the least romantic girl I know, in fact. I don’t care about sweeping romantic gestures – your flowers, your chocolates, your jewelry. I especially don’t care for jewelry – I would much rather David sock that money away so that we can go on a big trip for our tenth anniversary (side note: one time I mentioned this to Mama, who said, “You’d rather take a trip than have another diamond?” I said, “Oh, yeah – any day.” And she replied, “Well, you’re crazy.”)

My point is that I tend to let holidays like, say, Valentine’s come and go with only a card as a token of my love and affection. If I’m really going all out, I’ll get David a CD or something (another side note: my sister, on the other hand, never misses a single holiday…this morning we were greeted by a Large Box of Goodies filled with all manner of age-appropriate toys for Alex as well as candy and a book for his mama).

When I woke up today I did process the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, and while I considered picking up happies for my husband, I ultimately thought, “You know, I bet David will kind of appreciate it if I don’t cave in to the commercialism of this manufactured holiday – I am not going to buy anything.” To me, at least at 6:30 this morning, this was an excellent idea – one of my better ones, in fact. I mean, what husband wouldn’t want for his wife to abandon all romantic expectations? That’s a good thing, right?

I was surprised to find a sweet email from D. in my inbox about an hour later, and I honestly thought it was a great V-Day token in and of itself. I was actually impressed that he remembered the day at all, as he has been very vocal in the past about his dislike for what he calls “Valentinian paraphernalia.” I sent him a sweet email in return, and in my mind, we were all done with the Valentine’s festivities. We’d expressed some lovely sentiments, end of story.

Did I mention that I’m not at all romantic?

Imagine my surprise this afternoon when I found a gift WITH A CARD (that’s even a bigger deal when D. is doing the giving) on the dining room table. He had picked out a new cookbook (I can read a cookbook like a novel, no kidding) AND a copy of Paula Deen’s new magazine. Nothing extravagant, mind you – but really thoughtful gifts that will be used and enjoyed by me for many years to come.

And do you know what I had to give my husband?

That would be JACK. And SQUAT.

He wasn’t upset at all. He was a little surprised – but not upset. I mean, I do usually give AT LEAST a card, but this year I didn’t even have that unless you count the cards that Alex got yesterday at Mother’s Day Out, and somehow I’m thinking that small animated greetings from Matthew and Avery and Claire and Charlie probably won’t mean too much to David.

So I am about to rectify this situation. I’m gonna make a big ole country supper – meatballs and gravy, egg noodles, butterbeans, biscuits, brownies and ice cream. And Alex and I are about to create the card of all cards. It’s going to be big and it’s going to be colorful and it’s going to be romantic. But somehow when I think about romantic cards I picture people feeding each other chocolate-covered strawberries while they hold hands in a field of dandelions as they sing love songs from the 70’s.

And that’s not really us.

So I think I’ll go for funny. Funny is most definitely us.

Off to redeem myself.

By the way, Happy Valentine’s Day, BooDaddy!

Even if I’m terrible at romantical gestures (and it’s very important to say “romantical,” as it isn’t really a word at all), I love you very much.

I mentioned last week that Dr. Cutie McDreamy had narrowed his bachelorette list down to three. A few comments after last night’s episode:

He and Sarah from Nashville seemed to have fun on their “exotic overnight date.” She would be the best catch, for sure – she’s cute as a button and grounded as can be and a kindergarten teacher to boot and basically a Bachelor anomaly in that she’s normal. But they still don’t have one bit of chemistry. They’re trying to have chemistry, and I think they want to have chemistry, but the chemistry, well, it does elude them.

Susan, the girl who says she is “falling in love” with Travis but oh, by the way, also wants to move to L.A. to pursue her acting career but never ever ever intended for The Bachelor to be a stepping stone (ahem), got the boot last night. And I say good riddance.

Moana continues her reign as the girl who has had a “certain effect” on Dr. McDreamy (my sister said it – I didn’t – but my sister is right). Oh, she is a troubled soul, and I’m afeared that while she is maintaining a facade of normalcy right now, one day in the near future Dr. McDreamy will catch her spying on him as he makes his rounds or find her rifling through his photo albums and performing odd sacrificial rituals with pictures of his old girlfriends. Sometimes short-term fun has long-term consequences. I’m just sayin’.

During the previews for next week’s episode, viewers were instructed to do the following: “Be sure to stay tuned next week and see which one of these two ladies might get to be a doctor’s wife!” [emphasis mine]

Because really, being a doctor’s wife is obviously the highest goal to which any self-respecting female could aspire.

Because really, being a doctor’s wife is obviously the pinnacle of all possible wifely experiences.

I mean, who cares cares if a man is “kind” or “respectful” or “funny” – if he’s a doctor, ladies, then your problems are solved!

Mercy, mercy me.

Here’s what happens to your TiVo when you miss an entire weekend of catching up on your television viewing (number of unwatched episodes in italics):

Oprah Winfrey (4) – but no Faith and Tim, mind you. I’m still aggrieved.

Starting Over (4) – I’m surprised David didn’t delete these while I was gone.

House Hunters (11) – yes, you read correctly. Eleven episodes.

Paula’s Home Cooking (5) – maybe she’ll make this again!

24 (3) – I’m distressed by how behind I am so early in the season.

Survivor – Panama – Exile Island (1) – Eh, not so sure I care.

Dancing With The Stars (2) – Drew Lachey does the tango!

Arrested Development (1) – the two-hour series finale. Sigh.

That’s twenty three hours of television for those of you keeping score at home.

Don’t get me started about how I’m going to make time for the Olympics. But I’ll find a way. I will!

Email me if you’d like to babysit so that I can pile up on the sofa for a solid day of Watching All The Programming.

A girl has to have her priorities, you know.

Watching Alex open his Valentines from his Mother’s Day Out friends made my heart explode just a teeny. tiny. bit. He would look at each one and say, “OH, MAMA – it’s for Alex, and it’s BEAUTIFUL!”

I’m afraid I’m smitten with this little fella.

Happy Valentine’s Day!