Mississippi State University head football coach Sylvester Croom, left, greets Meridian businessman Harry Mayer before a Meridian Rotary Club meeting at the Howard Johnson in Meridian on Monday.
By Kyle Carter – The Meridian Star

If you’re not from my hometown, I realize that this post will have no meaning to you whatsoever. But if you are from my hometown, you will understand why I love this picture, and why I can’t help but wonder if Harry sold Coach Croom a few suits during the meet and greet.

I have no doubt in my mind that Harry is saying, “Good to see you, Coach. Good to see you. I am FAN-tastic, thanks!”

This made my day.

Tonight Alex was in the tub, and I was in the adjoining bedroom catching up on some bloggity business (would that be “bloggery”?). And then I heard the most disturbing sound:

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAR EAGLE! HEY!”

I immediately stopped what I was doing and said, “Um, Alex? WHAT did you say?”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAR EAGLE! HEY!”

My first thought, honestly, was “We’ve been in Alabama too long.”

My second thought, naturally, was “At least it wasn’t Hotty Toddy.”

So we’ve spent some time tonight on some old-fashioned home-training:

“GOOOOOOOOOO BULLDOGS! HEY!”

I know he picked up his War Eagle battle cry from Mothers’ Day Out, because his good buddy C. is a big-time AU fan. I’ve made it very clear to Alex that the next time C. yells “War Eagle,” A. is to counter with his Bulldog cheer, which may result in his MDO’s first-ever MSU/AU showdown.

I mean, sometimes you have to take a stand on pure principle.

I feel like the poor child has been exposed to the dark side, and I have to rescue him while there’s still time.

I should preface this post by giving you a brief explanation of the anxiety I feel when confronted by any form of chain letter. Recipes, stickers, panties (yech! – who wants to receive panties from strangers?), cash, you name it…I ignore them all. When I get them, usually via email these days, I respond by staring emptily at the computer screen and then hitting delete. OH, the pressure that they bring…will I answer them in time, will I break the chain, will some poor sick child on the northern coast of Pakzukikstanraine be able to set the world record for getting the most greeting cards during the fourth full moon of the Chinese New Year? I’m burdened by those things, you could say.

Anyway, I saw where Diane has tagged me with some interweb virus, only it’s not really a virus, it’s really a chain blog thing, and I will play along for two reasons and two reasons only: 1) Diane has been a loyal and faithful BooMama reader and 2) I made pork chops and gravy tonight, and while I was making it I thought, “I bet Diane’s gravy is good,” which made me think of her love for home cooking, which reminded me of her blog, which reminded me of her tag.

Therefore, I’ve “caught” the virus and I should insert some witty comment here like “but I don’t have fever!” but eh, it’s been a long day, and I just don’t have it in me. :-)

So here’s how the originator of this lovely virus explains the goal:

“Pearsonified has started a small, casual social experiment, it’s called “The Indie Virus.” Here’s how Pearsonified describes this experiment:The experiment, henceforth referred to as “The Indie Virus,” has two goals:

* To bring exposure to lesser known blogs (especially those outside of Technorati’s top 100)
* To explore the metrics behind a viral linking campaign launched by the “little guys” (less popular blogs)”

Here’s how BooMama describes the virus: Pearsonified wants to get lots of hits to his blog so that he goes up in the blog rankings on Technorati. Each of us who has been tagged has had to link to his blog at least twice to get the links to put in our posts. Technorati ranks blogs by how many people link to those blogs, and if you figure that 4,000 blogs have participated in this tag, then that means 4,000 people have linked to Pearsonified, which means he/she goes way up in the rankings.

So “[exploring] the metrics” is a fancy way of saying, “HOW MANY OF YOU PEOPLE WILL LINK TO ME?”

But that’s just my BooMama theory, made special for you with a dollop of homegrown cynicism. :-)

ANYWAY, I don’t know who to tag, because most of the blogs I read seem to be tagged already. Or else they’re not the “lesser known” blogs that Pearsonified mentions.

So if you have a blog and you would like to be tagged, leave me a comment. Or Diane (or anyone else), if you know someone you’d like for me to tag, just let me know in the comments, and I’ll be more than happy to tag them. I just don’t know who has/hasn’t participated so far.

And if one of y’all is really bored tonight, just click on those Pearsonified links about 100 times. It’ll totally rock his/her world. :-)

First. I got very tickled yesterday afternoon watching David and Alex “read the paper” (well, D. really was reading, not “reading” – which is a good thing indeed). For the longest time A. sat on the opposite end of the couch from D., looking at all the fliers and circulars. A. eventually moved to the coffee table, where he told us EVERYTHING listed in the circulars, and it was one of those sweet moments where Alex totally studied and imitated his daddy. A. “read” for almost an hour. AN HOUR! Of calm! With no screaming! And no running! Aren’t you happy for me?

Next. I have an unwritten rule that I don’t buy flowers unless the house is very, very clean. What’s that expression about putting lipstick on a pig? That’s why. Anyway, this whole FlyLady deal? It is really working for us. I feel like I have some housekeeping skills now. Skillz. Mad skillz. Yo.

I know that David and I have a different situation than lots of folks because he works from our house, and truthfully that’s made things even easier on me in terms of the FlyLady system. But here’s what we’re doing – for what it’s worth.

Every morning, after I get dressed, I unload the dishwasher, put on a load of laundry, figure out what’s for supper and make sure that the sink is clean (WHO KNEW a clean sink was such a key cleaning component?). And then David follows my four things with his four things: he makes the bed (and he’s done a beautiful job, though this past Wednesday he asked, “Hey, you know that throw thing that you put on the end of the bed? Why? What’s it for?”), puts the laundry in the dryer, makes sure all his dishes go into the dishwasher, and keeps the sink clean. I cannot tell you how much those four simple little things help me during the day.

The house being clean is a total stewardship issue with me, and I think that’s why it affects the way I feel so much. It’s not just a practical concern – it’s a spiritual concern – and to know that we’re developing a SYSTEM for taking care of everything makes me feel much more in control (as opposed to the house controlling me). Thus, we have flowers. Not fancy flowers, but flowers nonetheless. It’s a start.

C) We had the new members meal at church last night. I ended up doing lasagna, salad, bread, and Diane’s idea for ice cream sundaes. I decided on that menu because it was familiar cooking territory and every bit of it could be done ahead of time except for the salads. It was a good batch of lasagna and blah blah blah – but can I just tell you? Serving ice cream for dessert? A REVELATION! The men loved it – most had seconds – and the women seemed to appreciate that they could just have a “bite” of something sweet and not have to feel guilty about eating a big ole hunk of cake. Cake does come in hunks, you know. I believe it’s the official cake measurement.

4) I won a contest. At another blog. For a recipe. Seriously.

Last week I was visiting The Chaotic Home, familiarizing myself with all the LBY bloggers and trying to figure out who’s who. I noticed that Karin was having a soup and salad recipe contest, and in a fit of spontanaiety I clicked over to my recipe page, copied my favorite salad recipe, and pasted it into her comments. Didn’t think about it again. But as it turns out, I am a winner, ladies and gentlemen…and am going to be the proud recipient of a new cookbook, courtesy of Karin. After my walk down the red carpet and my tastefully tearful acceptance speech, I decided that the proper bloggity thing to do was to mention Karin’s blog (not to mention her generosity) here. So be sure to click over her way for a visit. You’ll feel right at (chaotic) home. Oh I am punny.

I believe we’re all caught up now. Except on sleep. But isn’t it great to have sunshine until 7:30 again?

I was thinking this morning about how I haven’t even mentioned the fact that Mississippi State has a new president. But truth be told, I didn’t have all that much to contribute to the discussion – not that that’s ever stopped me before.

Then I ran across Orley Hood’s column in today’s Clarion Ledger.

I wish I’d written it, if that counts for anything.

And for those of you who aren’t State fans, I apologize. You will probably have no interest whatsoever in the aforementioned article. Maybe you can scroll down and enjoy some of my other exceptionally average posts.

BooMama: A Veritable Festival of Mediocrity!

Today has been one of those days that has humbled me to my parenting core. David, too. Because our child? The cute blue-eyed boy? He’s gone crazy. Lost his mind. Cuckoo.

I don’t even know if I have the words to describe it. However, it’s probably important to point out that just then, when I was typing “describe,” I accidentally typed “prescribe,” which I feel certain is my subconscious talking and saying, “YOU NEED SOME MEDICATION, MA’AM!”

The child, he is suddenly SO DEMANDING, and it is making me crazy. It’s making his daddy crazy. I think it’s even making the dogs crazy. I told Bubba in an email earlier tonight that David and I both agree that maybe we need a slight break from the world of parenting. I believe my exact words were, “We have both agreed that if someone wants to come get Alex for a few days, we will throw his luggage to the curb and throw him in the car if someone will slow down just long enough for us to open the door.” I’m kidding, of course, because we would actually insist that someone at least pull into the driveway and stop their car so that we could install the carseat. Oh, we take care of our own.

We started the day off with a bang when the only activity in which Alex wanted to participate was climbing onto my shoulders while I was sitting on the couch and then doing a half-nelson onto the cushions. So I figured maybe we needed to get out and about. Because he has a deep and abiding love for Publix, he’s always up for a trip to the grocery store, but when I spilled my delicious fountain diet Coke (with ice, of course) in the middle of the produce section, Alex apparently felt that his very heart had been ripped from his body – we’re talking major, “hey, did you see that blonde woman with the screaming child over by the onions ’cause, um, STAY AWAY”-level meltdown.

I’m not exactly sure what I did to get him calmed down…it may have had something to do with a doughnut, a sippy cup filled with Sprite, and a bag of lemons featuring a picture of the cast of Sesame Street, though I can’t be exactly sure.

Before I had a child, I would look at a toddler acting like Alex in the grocery store and think, “HMPH! His parents have lost all control.” But David and I do discipline. We discipline as consistently as we know how, and in a loving way, and we work very hard not to undermine each other. There’s no good cop / bad cop in our house. We’re both just cops. Well, technically I’m the cop. David’s chief of police. :-) Of course we’re not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but we try to be very intentional about following through with our word. We know it’s in Alex’s nature to test us, and we know that we just have to get through this stage (at which point there will be another white-knuckle phase just around the corner). But my word it can be frustrating.

Tonight Alex refused to eat supper. He looked at his plate, pushed it away, then looked at me like, “Next option, please…this is not to my liking.” David calmly explained that I had prepared the meal for our family, and it was Alex’s only choice. If he didn’t want to eat, fine, but there would be no alternate meal forthcoming, and oh, by the way, Alex would continue to sit with us at the table. I was so grateful for the way David handled it, because do you know what I wanted to do with that plate of food? Throw it. I wanted to throw it. I wanted to pick it up, and aim it, and hurl it at the back door. If you’ve ever seen Coal Miner’s Daughter, I wanted to do exactly what Doo did when he took Loretta’s homecooked meal, threw it on the porch, and then whistled for the dogs to come and get it. Because I am MOTHER OF THE YEAR.

The rest of the night was one test of wills after another. Get down. Stand up. Don’t touch that. Be careful. That’s not a toy. Don’t push. Alex and David had more father-son “talks” than I could count. David’s great about balancing the discipline with encouragement when Alex makes good choices. Me? I just stand around and try not to scream. I do, however, think that David came pretty close to losing it when Alex took the cup that we use to wash his hair, filled it up with water, and then poured the water all over the bathroom floor. Don’t you wish you lived here?

Suffice it to say that we were both ready for Alex’s bedtime. All three of us needed a break. So I climbed in bed with Alex, we said prayers (lots of prayers for PATIENCE tonight), gave hugs and kisses, and then we did our bedtime farewell routine. At some point in the last couple of months Alex has started saying to me all the things I used to say to him, so it goes something like this: “Okay, Mama. Night night. God made you special and He loves you very much! I love you! Love ya!”

It’s a perfectly natural reaction, by the way, if you feel a little lightheaded from all the sweetness in that last sentence. So consider yourself warned: I’m about to do serious damage to your insulin level.

After this day of childrearing “challenges” (that’s the nice word), my sweet baby boy looked me straight in the eyes, and he started to sing. It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying, but then I caught on. If you know anything about Veggie Tales, you can sing along:

“I thank God for this day,
For the sun in the sky,
For my mom and my dad,
For my piece of apple pie!

For our home on the ground,
For His love that’s all around,
That’s why I say thanks every day!

Because a thankful heart is a happy heart!
I’m glad for what I have,
Thats an easy way to start!

For the love that He shares,
‘Cause He listens to my prayers,
That’s why I say thanks every day!”

Then he said, “Mama, now you sing” – and we sang it together – and I was reminded so much that, some days, the little man teaches me way more than I teach him. It was exactly the encouragement that I needed. It made me cry, honestly, because even in the midst of all our “terrible three” battles, his little heart is getting it. Just a little bit. He’s getting it.

And his mama is, too.