Pretty Soon I'm Gonna Have to Give her a new Blog Name

'Cause she's barely a teenager.  Guess who's nineteen today?

Wasn't it just yesterday she was crawling across the floor and playing with my pots and pans?  Somebody stop the clock.

Twiddle de de, Look Who's Three!

I have no idea where the last three years have gone, but I turned around the other day and Special Delivery was having his third birthday.  Great Googly Moogly!

And while he seems to be growing up right before my eyes, that is not facial hair around his mouth folks, just blue frosting.

Happy Birthday, Mama!

To the best mama ever.  And by the time this posts, we should have already surprised her with a big ol' party.  Tee hee.  I love a surprise.  And so does she.

As Kenny Chesney says, That's the Good Stuff.

People kept asking me Monday what kind of special thing I was going to do for my birthday. And I kept joking that I was going to bible school. Between work and bible school there was no time for official celebrations. For the last few years, Hubby and I have gone to the Jimmy Buffett concert for my birthday, but that just didn’t work out this year. At the very least we usually go out to dinner, but that didn’t happen either. We’ve just been extremely busy every night for the past week. We’ll probably go out this Saturday night. The funny thing is that even though Monday seemed like a very routine day, it was a very good birthday because of the little things that happened all day long.


As I drove to work early this morning I was thinking about the way Monday came down and I suddenly felt very blessed. I got to go to a good job. Mid morning Monday my parents stopped by to see me. At lunch time my brother and nephew stopped by and visited with me for a little while. In the afternoon, Teen Angel came by with very meaningful gifts and a box full of warm scones. A very sweet card from Hubby with some vacation spending money was waiting for me at home. Dozens of friends wished me well on Facebook, sprinkling messages on my Facebook wall throughout the day. A friend handed me a home burned CD that night of a Lucinda Williams album she had bought and knew I would love. Cards came with warm wishes from friends. And I got to witness the smiles and laughter of lots of children throughout the evening. Lots of sweet simple pleasures filled my day. All day long I had little reminders of the beautiful connections I have with the people in my life, and I went to bed feeling very satisfied with the day. It felt like a celebration, even if there was no dinner or dancing or bottles of wine.

So this morning, I smiled to myself as I pondered all of this during my commute, listening to the CD from my friend and witnessing the rising sun. I cranked up the stereo, sang with Lucinda and congratulated myself on a very happy birthday. I am blessed, folks. Truly blessed. And I don’t need a party to prove it.

Short and Sweet. Just Like Those Scones.

-Today is my birthday, and I’m celebrating every night this week with about forty people. That’s forty little Methodists. It’s vacation bible school week.


-The sixth hour of decorating for bible school last night felt like mile ten of that half marathon. Fortunately, I made it to mile thirteen, but sister mercy, this year was more exhausting than usual. Is there such a thing as a training schedule for bible school?

-Our theme for bible school is Kickin’ It Old School, featuring 80’s rock and roll, and I will be manning the audio visuals. I may finally realize my long time dream of playing Bruce Springsteen’s This Little Light of Mine video really loud in church. Sigh. Scratch one off the bucket list. Now if I could just get them to put cup holders in the back of the pews in the sanctuary.

-I love that even though I’m forty se…well, forty something, my mama still bakes me a pink birthday cake. The twelve year old in me would be disappointed without that pink cake.

-I love Facebook birthday wishes. Say what you will about Facebook but having birthday wishes posted on your wall throughout the day is just fun, fun, fun. And I’m all about the fun, fun, fun.

-I made it through Teen Angel’s first roller derby bout this weekend without having a heart attack. I’m sorry, but the mother in me just hates to see her baby get banged around, even though said baby likes it. Make no mistake, it is a full contact sport, and I just keep envisioning cracked ankles and broken teeth. I did a fair amount of cringing, but I muddled through and cheered. She managed to escape injury, too, so that part of it was fun. For me.

-Speaking of cheering, I’m just gonna go ahead and say this, catty though it may be. Those young cheerleaders they had at this bout in Clarksville, Tennessee? Lame-oh. I told Teen Angel that I might be forty se….I mean forty something, but I could out pom pom those young whippersnappers any day. Not that I SHOULD be out there on that skating floor, but if you need someone to shake some pom poms I’m your woman. The funny thing about it was that Teen Angel agreed with me. She witnesses my dancing skills all the time.

-Giddy moment of the weekend….I ordered our Paris Museum passes. Pinch me. Again. Please. Are you tired of hearing me say that yet?

- Teen Angel had the bakery make me amaretto scones for my birthday and then delivered those hot scones to me at work this afternoon. I have the best daughter evah. I will be hard pressed to share them. The bakery doesn’t make them anymore, so it could be another year before I get them again. Oh, how I love an amaretto scone. As my friend Yvonne says, might as well rub it on my arse ‘cause that’s where it’s goin’.

-Scones, pink cake and Bruce Springsteen. Sigh. All is right with the world.

And Now She Can Vote

And buy porn. And lottery tickets. And join the military. And get married. And all kinds of other things without her parents' permission. My baby turned eighteen today. And while I could sit around and wax and wane about my mixed bag of emotions that constantly race between pride and sadness, I shall shut my pie hole and just enjoy the moment.

The highlight of the day? The ceremonial (and painful) piercing of the belly button. (Sorry about the blur. Somebody wouldn't be still.)

Oy vey. All I can say is it's better than a tattoo that she might later regret.

Look Who's Two!

We celebrated Special Delivery’s birthday this past weekend. I can’t believe he’s two years old. (Insert Old Fart voice here.) Where does the time go?

I’m proud to say he apparently shares his Aunt Hula’s love of cake.

Although I can’t remember ever stealing any off of someone else’s place. When she was watching.
Special Delivery is the spittin’ image of his daddy at this age, except Super Cop had red hair.

And can I just say that since Hubby and I are pretty far down the pike in the child rearin’ business, it’s terribly fun to watch Super Cop deal with the joys and frustrations of living with a toddler. Sorry, it’s the big sister comin’ out in me.

Oh, and if I had cheeks this cute, I’d smile too.

Birthday Boy!

Guess who turned the big 4-0 this past Sunday. Super Cop. Ha! Never mind how old that would make me. Let's just focus on HIS age. Since I didn't have a chance to erect a big flashing sign in his yard Sunday, I thought I'd do the next best thing, splatter it all over my corner of the Internet. Along with some old pictures of him because nothing spices up a blog like goofy old family photos. And because I'm the bossy big sister, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make his life more embarrassing on special occasions such as this. Happy Birthday Super Cop! I left out the one where you're standing in front of the outhouse. You can thank me later.

Me and E

Friends drift in and out of your life as you age, and it is rare that you keep a particular friend for most of your life. People grow and change. Their interests and views split or they move. Because I live near the town in which I grew up, I have been fortunate to stay in contact with many friends from my childhood. Once in a while, you meet someone you manage to stay friends with forever, and for me that person is E.

We’ve been friends for nearly forty years. She and I met when we were five years old. You do the math. On another day, I’d fudge about my age, but today I’m in an oh what the hell mood. We rode the school bus together when I moved here from a Chicago suburb halfway through my kindergarten year. We were so small we shared a seat with two other girls. She was my first friend in a new school. Most of you can relate to how important that friend can be. We hit it off from the very beginning. We wuz like peas and carrots, as Forrest says. Me and E. shared the same interests. We both liked music and art. We both played the flute, we agreed on which boys were cute and which boys weren’t and we had similar tastes in clothing, books and music. For thirteen years of school, we were elbow to elbow, literally. In classes....

In marching band.

Pep band.

Concert band.

Cheerleading. (Hey, there’s M.! Everybody say hello to M.)

Graduations.

High school.

And beyond. We shared just about every milestone event a body can have during his growing up years. I was there for her wedding.

And she was there for mine. We encouraged each other through college, exchanging letters when she moved out of state. And we shared the joys of childbirth when she moved back. Careers and families have kept us from spending much time together in the last twenty years, but we’ve stayed in touch, and on those occasions we are together, we iz like peas and carrots again. Like during our high school reunion when we spent the evening huddled in the corner chatting ninety miles an hour and trying to decide if P. had had a boob job. (Oh, yes she did!) And our elementary school reunion last year where we laughed the night away at old memories and fell into our usual pose for the group picture. I love that our friendship is still comfortable. That we haven’t lost touch all these years later. And that we probably never will. I am a lucky gal, indeed. That’s why when April rolls around each year, I go hunting for a silly birthday card for E.. It’s her birthday month, and those birthday cards are our way of saying, “Hey, we’re still on this bus together.” Happy birthday, E.

After the Meltdown

Hey, guess who had a birthday while all of this ice nonsense was going on? I’ll give you three guesses and the ones about me and Teen Angel don’t count. Hubby turned *^$%, and while he normally eschews (sorry, I’ve been doing Word Power in the Reader’s Digest and couldn’t resist) birthday parties, he was all over the parties this year. He had two. First, there was poker night for him and his buddies at our house last Tuesday. Then, we went out this past weekend with several friends for dinner and casino gambling. Nothing says birthday like losing money in the slots. Actually, I won $75, so I recouped (I’m all over the big words, tonight) my losses and came home with only $5 less than I took. Hubby? Not so lucky. Oh well, a good time was had by all, and we decided we should do a monthly birthday get together with this particular group of friends because it was so much fun. I’d show you some pictures of this weekend, but SOMEBODY eschews my new camera.

Sixteen Candles

A long time ago in a far away land called delusional, the king and queen of the Hula-gen's promised a certain young princess that she could have a big blow out for her sixteenth birthday if she made good grades, stayed out of trouble and quit asking for a birthday party every year. She did, so they did. Celebrate that is. With a bunch of teenagers. And while the king and queen were a little nervous about wild behavior and party crashing by outside villagers, their worries were for naught. The party goers were just a bunch of jesters who had a fabulous time, and aside from a little cake throwing and a few wild hip moves, caused no problems for all of the extra chaperons on hand. No one got hurt. Nothing was damaged, and the king and queen got everything wrapped up and made it home and in bed by 1am. The end. And now the queen is scheduling a massage. And counseling to adjust to the fact that her baby, who was just two last week, is now sixteen.

As Scarlett says, "I'll think about that tomorrah," and show you pictures of the party instead. Here are Chris and Seth, the deejays.

Everybody say hi to Chris and Seth. Chris gives Teen Angel guitar lessons.

There was plenty of dancing. Of course there was the cha-cha. Criss cross!
And a conga line.
Hey, that reminds me of the time we were on a cruise and.... um, never mind.

They even did a little Cotton Eyed Joe. Hula, quit playing with the shutter speed!You know how's there one person who always lights up the dance floor? Meet C. I love this boy. Don't let the Hot Topic garb fool you into thinking he's some kind of disturbed goth youth. He had great manners, offered to help set up and even went to the trouble to RSVP before the party.

Dancing always leads to shoes getting kicked off. The blue and pink Crocs came to the party on the same body. I am officially an old fart because I missed that trend. Speaking of farts, don't even ask about this gift. You don't want to know. Oh, you want to know about the hat? Teen Angel's BFF bought her one as a birthday gift after T.A. bought BFF one for Christmas. Odd hats kept popping up all night. How much food can teenagers eat? As much as you can serve. I wonder what we'll think when we look back at this picture twenty years from now? One of the highlights of the night for T.A. was unveiling this. While recently revisiting the land of delusional Queen Hula agreed to let T.A. drive Hula's little red coupe when T.A. gets her license. Hula drives a company car, so she rarely drives the little red car, although she hearts the little red car lots and lots and lots. We were NOT buying T.A. a new car but agreed to dress this one up a little. The king of the Hula's took T.A. shopping for new chrome wheels last week. It was kind of a father/daughter bonding thing. He had the car detailed and helped her design a special decal in memory of her cousin.And was she pleased? Of course.Oh, I'm so not ready for her to be behind the wheel. Maybe I need a facial too.

Say A Prayer And Pass The Tylenol

Teen Angel turned sixteen yesterday. Boys and cars, oh my! Dating and driving, my, my, my! I'm not ready for this. For years, I've told her, "You can date when you're sixteen." And it seemed so far away. Like I had forever to prepare myself for this terrifying stage of her life. Terrifying for me. Thrilling for her. For weeks, she's been counting down the days until her birthday. And it finally happened. Against my desperate prayers for the good Lord to make her twelve again. Well, maybe not twelve. That was kind of a sucky age. Ten, perhaps. I am soooo not ready for this. It seems like only yesterday we were celebrating her first birthday, and she was flinging cake in the floor.

She was such a good baby. Except for that short phase of reflux when she had a habit of projectile vomiting on anyone within a five foot radius. She was so much fun. Always clowning around.For the longest time her favorite thing in the whole wide world was a "boon". For a dollar we could buy a balloon at the grocery store and keep her occupied for a week. She loved a good birthday cake. Still does.

And even though she's kind of a tomboy now, she had her princess stage.

And then it was back to the clowning around stage.

She has always loved to swim. For a long time she never swam without goggles of some kind.And she's always been adventurous. She'll ride any roller coaster you put in front of her. I was especially proud of the time we took her out of school for a trip to Las Vegas, and she wowed a room full of people by climbing a very tall rock wall.

She was pretty proud of herself, too.

There have been many other proud moments too, for academics and achievements, but most of all I'm proud of her compassion for her fellow man, her kindness to those in need and her love of laughter. She's a devoted friend and a very principled person. She's growing into a wonderful young woman. I just hope my heart can hold out during these next few years while she's finding her way and clipping the apron strings. She's ready for it. I don't think me and her dad are. Her first date is bound to show up on the door any day, now, and her driving permit test looms next week. Oy vey! Someone pass the Tylenol.