Uh, Oh. We Are All Doomed

This blog may be looking a little different to you, my 17 followers.....and although I think the template change will not really matter to any of you, there is one person that I know when they see the change they will immediately cringe with true horror.

And here is why....

So my Mam has many, many wonderful qualities. She is kind and caring and hilarious. Seriously, my family would sit around and actually cackle at this or that. Usually there was a target:

Like my Dad and his Boy Scout Camping trip with my brother that he refers to as "worse than going to Vietnam"...

Or that my brother, who once walked in on the rest-home version of a Baptist Gospel Hymn He Touched Me, and my dad thought his uncomfortable reaction was so hilarious, he had the bakers at Albertson's put it on my brother's birthday cake....

Or the ever running joke that I once thought that Sigourney Weaver was a host on SNL and have never heard the end of it. But it was all in good fun.

Enter my Mam... and her CRAZY superstitious. She is, as she will herself admit, well, freakishly superstitious. Like...bad. Worse than a freshman their first week of college.

I mean, sadly so. This goes beyond your standard "hold a button when a hearse drives by" or "Friday 13th". Beginner stuff, she would say.

Like how she is totally convinced that it she doesn't forward on any email about "wishes coming true" or how she needs to send the email to a certain number of people to "send on good fortune" she is ultimately doomed.

Like when she told me that I wasn't allowed to leave my shoes in the table because "I will never get married"....mind you, this I was already married...for 3 years.

Like how she totally gives me hard time to make sure that I have eaten black eyed peas on New Year's Day, a normal rite of passage for most people. But my Mam, takes it to 11. She also thinks we should have herring in addition to the black eyed peas. I guess it is a Russian thing? I say this because my other relatives (who are equally sentimental and superstitious have never, ever heard of this little "herring situation".)

For those of you who may not know, which I hope is ALL of you....

Herring is a fish.....that is served in a jar......in a mayonnaise sauce....

Or like how she thinks butterflies or polka dots are bad luck. Granted, I will give her that I was in a serious car accident while I was wearing a polka dotted outfit. OK, so I was actually hit, and then run over by a car while wearing said outfit...but that was over 23 years ago! Isn't it time we forgave the polka dots?? Back me up, here people.

Which leads me to this point...

I can hear her now...

"Uh, Jane, I saw yur blag....and...uh, do you knooow that there are palka daats? Yoou know how I feel about the palka daats."

And, she is in denial that she even has an accent, and she will never admit that she still carries around even the slightest hint of her northern accent...even if she has been living in Oklahoma for almost 35 years. It takes a good ear to pick up that she sounds a little bit like Cartman from South Park. But it is all a good thing. It is endearing and all that....

Having said that......

I happen to like the "polka dot template" blogspot suggested, and I thought it would be a good update to my "blag". What can I say?? While watching The Goonies, I thought I should spice things up.

However, there were not any black cats that crossed my path, it isn't Friday, or any sort of 13, but I can guarantee that my Mam is going to bed thinking I am totally doomed.

That Time of the Month

So, it is that time of the month again.

This is the day I look forward to every single month. Like, when you were a kid, and it was

corn dog day in the cafeteria. Like the day your cleaning lady comes. Or when you happen to get H1N1, but are really pumped because you lost the extra flab, and finally fit into your pre-pregnancy jeans...kinda the same way you think you would want to go on Survivor because it would be such a great way to "jump start your diet". Well, that last one was a lie, but I can imagine what it would be like not to have to tuck my stomach into my pants....and it is really, really good.

Tonight......is......

BOOK CLUB!!!

Let me tell you about our little book club.

Our little book club rocks (do people say that anymore? No? Then we are bitchin! What? Worse? Ok then).

We are a small group who is more exclusive than an interview with The Oprah. We were all semi-tossed together by our fearless ringleader who knew all of us, and suggested we get together and hit happy hour. Since we all know how to read, we called it Book Club. Thus a star was born. Because I don't know if these ladies want their real names published, I will creatively give them some nicknames.

There is:

Jennifer- (her real name, by the way. She has been spotted in several blogs, so I know it is cool to expose her for the animal loving, Snuggie Enthusiast, Basset Hound Mom, that she is.) She loves books as much as I do. Reading them, hoarding them, roaming around the bookstore and buying too many of them, and using her too-cool book stamper on them the second she gets them home. She is one of my closest friends, books aside. Of course, the fact she brought me champagne in the delivery room doesn't hurt either.

The Jewelry Maker-Jet setting between Houston, Florida, and Louisiana, among other places, she is a free spirit with a precious puppy (Ok, the dog is 11, but still). What I feel most connected with her about? Well, that would be the fact that she had to start smoking again, in efforts to get along better with her mom. A girl after my own Franzia glass.

The Barbie Doll-She is the gorgeous girl that you soooooo want to hate because she is so pretty, but she is so freaking nice. You would think because she is blonde you could use that stereotypical angle, but she is smart too. Like, really smart. Being around her doesn't make you hate her because she is the total package, it just makes you realize you need to rethink the carbs.

The Iron Woman-Let me just tell you about this chick. One.Strong.Gal. She was telling us tonight that she was proud of herself because she ran 5 miles the other day. Not impressed? Oh, did I forget to mention that she is in radiation for breast cancer??? Oh, I did? Yeah, hi. Need I say more?

So what do I bring to the table you ask? Not so much. But I have infiltrated their layer with the aforementioned cupcakes and now they find me irresistible. I am so in.

We mesh together like and antique quilt. Close up, you wonder how it will all fit together. However, when you piece them together and take a look, you just know all the pieces are how they should be.

However, for the record, I just want to mention that we totally talk about the book. I mean, we ARE a book club.

Then again, there was the night at Gigi's that we all pretty much agree we were slipped a bottle of wine with a roofie in it. Those of us that remember the night, and woke up knowing where our shoes, and cars for that matter, can recall most of the details.

We were fine, fine, fine, fine, fine...

Until suddenly.....BAM!

A couple of us were stocking up on Parliments before the convenience store closed...and continued to chain smoke them until we started to sound like someone with a voice box.

A couple gals were sent home in a cab only to make it around the parking lot before the driver "refused" to take the rider home due to the fact they were "outspoken clients"....AKA, kept yelling at the cabbie.

Because, to this day, we still attempt to recall that night, but it ends up sounding more like an urban legend...at least to us, anyway. But we can all recall that month's book.

So there.

Time for Birthday Cake...mmmm...Cake.

So, most people that know me, know not to call me before 10am. (hint, hint, Mam). Even as a new mom, I am usually either deep in mid morning nap, or in still asleep from a very, very long night. Either way, it is just a good rule of thumb. A great thing about being a stay at home mom, other than sometimes still being in my PJ's at noon, is that I have the ability to take an extended nap. A bad part of being a stay at home mom? That would be that 3 back-to-back 2 hour 'naps' make up my "nights sleep".

Well, imagine my surprise, and immediate frustration, when the phone rang bright and early at 5:30 this morning.

My first thought: "damn you mom!! I don't care what Fox News said or if Sophie almost went through the kitchen window...cause let me tell you, it was only a matter of time".

My second thought: "Holy schnikey's Batman!! You totally forgot that your brother and sister-in-law are due ANY DAY!!"

So, I jump out of bed so fast to get the phone, I so foolishly left on The Husband's side of the bed, you would have thought a Crave Cupcake delivery man was at my doorstep fixing to take off. And if you are unfamiliar of Crave Cupcakes, you have not truly lived. I am being serious. Let me know and we will work something out.

Lucky for my mom, it was my brother, Tom (the same one our son's middle name is after) telling me I am an aunt...again!

I really can't think of any better way to wake up, than to be told that sweet, precious Annabelle Jane has been born. She is a lucky girl to be born to parents who have been waiting for her and loving her for so long. I can't wait to meet her and smother her in kisses!!

Both mom and baby are doing great. I can't say as much at 2am this morning while my sister-in-law was in active labor that was progressing so fast she wasn't able to have an epidural. Sweet Lord. I know I have pledged my newly regenerated liver (although currently compromised) to my new friend Sarah (who is hilarious and loves $.50 mimosas.....I love her.) but I think I need to rethink my other vital organs at this point. And Sarah, I told you weeks ago about this liver "situation"...AKA the recent spike in Franzia stock.

No.Drugs.At.All.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, Annie!! Love your Aunt Jane. I promise to always have gum.

Just One Of Those Days

So here is the thing....

Ladies, you know what I am talking about. You will know, sure as I know now, and I hope you cringe and hide under your covers just the same as I am....Solo cup full of Franzia and all.

When we are little girls, we grow up admiring, but vowing to be anything BUT our mothers. When they don't give us the Barbie Doll we want, or tell us to "keep the bedroom door open", we swear that we won't be like that. We promise, then and there, to be a friend to our daughter, and not embarrass her the same way we were when our mom asked if the new friend we just met was "fast"...and not referring to the track team.

As we grow and mature, we not only don't want to become our mothers, we just don't want to get old. Plain and simple. But slowly.....

Slowly and surely.....

One day....

One day, you walk into Abercromie & Fitch and wonder why it has to be so damn loud.

One day, you wonder how girls today can wear such short skirts without getting an infection when they sit down.

One day, you wonder if those girls at the mall know if their thong is showing (it is, by the way....so says the disrespectful girl in the sorority letters who, if her house knew she was being that kind of representative they would sooooo fine her).

But, those are things that can get dismissed with age, right? Right!?!?

Until.....

Until, you hear yourself ask the girl at the mall if she knows her underwear is showing. (Honestly, it is STICKING out of her PANTS! Not only can that not be comfortable, but leave a little to the imagination.)

Until, you realize girls today should leave things to the imagination. (Shit.)

Until, you realize the music isn't that loud.....You just can't hear as well. (Oh, Sweet Lord)

Until, you go and get yourself tested for Swine Flu because you have a cough. (But, hey, you have a baby, you are just being a responsible adult. There is nothing wrong with being a good parent. I, I mean, "you" are just being a proactive mom).

Until, you tuck your shirt into your underwear.....you know, because it makes it stay down better.

Hello, I am My Mother.

Nice to meet you.

True Love

While this past Friday marked the anniversary of the September 11th attacks, they also marked the first anniversary of Hurricane Ike. Being that The Husband and I were fairly new to Houston we were totally excited and anxiously awaiting the arrival of our first storm season.

Now, we were used to tornado season and all of that glory. You know when the sky turns a mustard color, you fire up your Webber Grill and get to work. You watch the storm roll in while meeting your neighbors in the front lawn. Good times. There isn't time to prepare, so there isn't that anxious build up.

Not so with hurricanes. There is footage on the hurricane for days and days and days and days. And, unlike living in Oklahoma, there isn't a hurricane drinking game similar to the legendary Gary England Drinking Game. At least that I am aware of....people just consider hurricane drinking, well, drinking. We call that Tuesday at our house. Anyway, people get totally caught up in getting enough bottles of water, generators, batteries and peanut butter that you almost expect to see it being scalped on the corner outside the grocery store.

Well, as the coverage was getting more constant and evacuations of Galveston Island started, my office gave us the afternoon off as well as several days after the storm if we need them. Since I was a hurricane neophyte, I didn't really take into account as to how bad the storm and damage could be. So, when I got off work and people were throwin' bows on isle 13 for the last case of Ozarka, The Husband and I spent that time getting some staples we knew we would need.

When I left the office, I took stock in my priorities and made a detailed list of exactly where I was going to go and what I was going to need. Traffic was horrible with people trying to get gas, and with all the shortages that happened as a result, it was an absolute nightmare getting around.

First stop: Linen's and Things

They were closing a store by my house and I needed a new crock pot. I mean what goes better with "hunkering down to watch a hurricane" than turkey chili?

Second: Pottery Barn

While doing some "research" for necessary hurricane supplies at the office before I left, I found some amazing drapery panels on sale. Better pick them up before they sell out! My thought was, that if I am going to have full access to The Husband for a few days, I am going to put that man to work. My "Honey Do" list was longer than the line waiting for the Jiffy to be restocked.

Third stop: World Market

To pick up the curtain rods, naturally.

Fourth stop: CVS

I decided it would be a good idea to pick up some extra batteries for the cordless drill in case we don't have power-that way there won't be any excuses to not hang the curtains! Feeling so smart and proud of myself for thinking a couple steps ahead, I also got caught up in the mob mentality and thought I should get some candles too. Seeing that all they had left at that point we gaudy rosary candles, I figured they were better than nothing. I mean, I was going to need some additional light-especially since the sun would be blocked out by the new curtains. Although if anyone looks in my bathroom closet, you would think I am a strict Catholic straight from Mexico City...and probably a stripper too because they are covered in glitter. To me that didn't seem to safe, but who am I to correct a glittery Jesus?

The Husband, of course, is running all around the city doing the things you are supposed to in order to prepare yourself for a storm-hit the liquor store.

So, I call him and happen to catch him in line. He is growing frustrated because he had been waiting in line for almost an hour and his arms are tired from carrying the huge stockpile of staples. In his frenzied state, however, he only grabbed me one box of my beloved Franzia Chardonnay.

Sweet, sweet Husband. Sweet, Salt-of-the-Earth Husband. Precious, silly, little Husband.

How could I possibly be stranded inside for days on end with only ONE box? I mean, who can live like that? No air conditioning (granted we will be cooler from the newly added insulation the curtains are providing), no TV, and now no wine spritzers to have with my turkey chili? Telling this to The Husband, I am met with a strong silence on the other end of the phone.

Soooooo.....yeah, we all know how this ended. (How I love that man.)

All in all it was a great hurricane. Real success I think.

Fortunately we only suffered a minor impact from the storm.

His name is Alex.

8 Years Ago...

OH MY!!! I have 3 members!! I am not going to lie-I feel like I was just picked next to last for kickball. I am no way near cocky enough to think that I would be picked first-I run like a girl after all-but I feel just great enough that I wasn't the last kid standing. I knew my good pal Katie would read my musings but other than that, I thought it would just be me, Katie and a dog ('Sup Roscoe!).

So, eight years ago today we all saw the towers fall wondered what the hell was happening. Eight years ago our lives changed and our sense of security became more of an illusion than the reality we were used to.

And, eight years ago, my mother began her own war of terror.

Now I must explain that my Mam (Your what? Yes, my Mam. And since I can't give you all of my little nuggets right away you will have to wait for that one.)...anyway, my Mam is very, um, task oriented. She really needs some project to work on or something to direct all of her energy. Since I had just gotten married and she had just moved my dad's dental practice in to a new building, September 11th caught her in between projects. Greaaaaat.

After most of us were able to turn off the TV, go back to work and start to keep going with everything that happened, my Mam turned her anti-terrorism campaign up a notch. She quickly set up her "Command Post" (AKA her desk in the family room) and began collecting anything Americana. Anything red, white and blue, no matter how tacky, big or small made the cut. Anything that had the White House seal on it? You bet! Um, what would come from the White House you ask? Well, being an ardent Republican, my Mam would support the troops, the president and the Axis of Evil. For her contributions, she would receive mailers from The White House thanking her for the support and asking to donate more money. And, in return send more and more letters. And she saved all of them.

Then she began getting pictures of "George and Laura", who she would refer to as naturally as if it was our old neighbors Mozan and Shuku (God love Mozan and Shuku. They used to let me come over and feed me sugar. Really, actual sugar cubes. They were the best). Anyway, we would be talking at her house and she would begin to show off her most recent pics and explain them to me.

"Oh, it is just George and Laura at Camp David"

"I got a new picture of George.....in his flight suit!!!"

"Did you know that Laura is a social smoker?"

Thus began what my brother and I refer to as my mother's boy-band crush on the president.

So anyway.....rarely a day would go by that I didn't hear about how she got up at 4am to check the BBC online to get the most recent news. Or I would hear about the new information on terrorists and that we shouldn't eat salt in restaurants because it might "actually be anthrax". Her favorite website that she would frequent (that I can't even mention because I am firmly convinced that if I do, I will be flagged by the government in some way and men with dark glasses will pull up to my house in a dark sedan and I will never he heard from again) is so out there, my brother and I often refer to it as "Hitler Had Some Good Ideas".com. Yes, it is that bad. The Husband and I told her she was not allowed to access it from our computer in fear of all the viruses we would get....or lists we would be put on.

Thankfully, in the last eight years other, um, projects have helped her refocus a little and she has toned it down a notch. She no longer tells me to "be vigilant" before I fly or has people look under her car for a bomb...you know "just in case". The days of my brother and sister-in-law sending her a Make It Yourself Garden Stone Kit (essentially cement mix and a pretty little mold to pour it in) for Christmas and wondering what all the "white powder" is on it, are gone. Although seeing her frozen expression as she opened it, saw the box, and said "Should I open it? It is all covered with powder" was all the gift I needed that year.

We can laugh about it. Now. Now we can laugh with her about it. Now. She has come a long way, baby.

Speaking of baby, my brother and sister-in-law are expecting their first baby any day now (yay!!). And, while my Mam is beyond thrilled to have a granddaughter, she did express some concern to him the other day.....well, she just said she hopes the baby isn't born on September 11th, because then "the terorists win".

Oooooh, and we were doing so well too.

The First One?

So, I have been told "by some" that I may be hilarious and that I should start blogging. And, even though I will say that I don't believe that anyone cares (or will read) about what I will mention in this little blog, here I go.

But, first, I must mention a little ditty. It goes something like this.....

I call it......First Grade Spelling Bee.

So, this is my main reason for not wanting to blog. I am a horrible speller and the proper rules if grammar are even further behind than post partum weight loss. So picture this, I am in first grade, roughly 6 years old and the class spelling bee rolls around. I mop it up like the floor at a peep show. So, I advance on to the grade-wide level spelling bee and given my special spelling bee list. I take it home, and I am not going to lie...I rock the shit out of it. With a couple teeny, tiny exceptions.

Where

Were

I am not joking. These two words are the constant running joke, even now, that my dad lourves to bring up all of the live long day. Not in a bad way, mind you...more in a "We bought you a new dress for this" kind of way.

So, I am practicing the list and I am showing it who is boss and all that. But, I just keep getting stuck on "where" and "were". Meanwhile, my grandmother who, let's be honest is not my biggest fan (not that I am a giant jerk store, but that is another post.), has decided to drive up from her old people haven to watch me. Can you say pressure cooker??

So I am sitting up there in my sweet little dress with perfect posture and and freshly washed hair (another story for another time) waiting my turn. I know every.single.word. on that damn list and I am more amped than a kid on a Gogurt high.

First Round. (awesome, these kids are going to eat my dust......big spelling trophy here I come).

This is where I envision myself being the spelling bee hero of the day. I am totally and completely the up and coming Benson that is just, well, the best one. My grandma is going to take to take me to Long Neckers for cheeseburgers and tell me how smart I am and how she always liked me and she knew I was so smart and on and on and on.

Kid One: Word- I (really??)

Kid Two: Word- Me (piece of cake)

Kid Three: Word- The (get out!)

Kid Four: Word- Am (child's play)

Kid Five: Word- And (Do you have any idea where this is going?)

Kid Six: Word- Some (Ok, now I am getting nervous, but this will be great?????)

Kid Seven (AKA Me): Word-Where

Are.You.Freaking.Kidding.Me?? Score one for the universe.

I will say that my grandma drove straight home that night and our relationship was never the same. I will say that we did still go to Long Neckers and it was awesome.

Ok, so that is the deep seeded reason that I am afraid to blog. Not that nobody will read it (and I don't expect this to be all James Earl Jones from Field of Dreams. You know, "Blog it and they will come" but there are going to be typos and spelling errors (obviously) and, well, just all sorts of stuff wrong. But, deal.