Why I won’t be blogging today
September 2nd, 2010
and that’s just the first basket…
the one where I wax poetic
September 1st, 2010
Just kidding. I’m not going to wax poetic about anything. I actually am going to partake in a little verbal vomit. See? Vomit. It’s not a very poetic word. I should change the title of this post, but I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll be inspired as I write and maybe I will begin to wax poetic about life and it’s deeper meanings.
But probably not.
I really don’t have much to say these days. Probably because I’m old and my high falutent weekend in New Orleans has made me feel a bit like I got beat with a rubber mallet then tossed to the side like a rag doll. This mama isn’t used to seeing 2:00 am unless it’s to administer medicine to fevery babies or fill hungry tummies.
I’m tired.
Speaking of last weekend, I must say that there were moments when I looked around and thought What in the world am I doing here? I felt very…how shall I put this…midwest. I was surrounded by all of these interesting, funny, stylish, green, city folk and here I was, the minivan mom from the suburbs. I tell ya, I had to fight from saying things like, Well Golly Gee, or Aw shucks. I think I may have had an I declare or two in me, but I held back. And upon my return I had a strong urge to sell my car and start using public transit and to keep all the lights in the house turned off and check my carbon imprint (or is it my carbon print…or footprint?). But, well, shucks guys, that would make this suburban mama a little less comfortable so I think I’ll keep trucking along as I’m going in life.
‘Cause it’s swell.
Speaking of swell…um, I really don’t have anything else swell to say. I was looking for a transition. That was a poor effort. Did I mention I’m exhausted? Sloan told me yesterday that he no longer wants to be a policeman when he grows up, but he would like to be a shark trainer instead. When I informed him that he would have to be very brave because that’s a dangerous job he gave me the look that only a 7 year old going on14 can give. You know the one, right? It’s that look that says, Duh, Mom. What are you, like, some sort of midwest hick?
“I’ll start working with the sharks who are already trained. Then I will move on to their friends that need to be trained.”
Right. What was I thinking?
“Hey mom,” he went on. “You remember that time when I was a baby and I met that shark?”
“Um, no.”
“Yeah, remember? I was a little baby. It was my first time to Florida and I met a shark.”
“Sorry, bud. I don’t remember that at all.”
“Oh. Well…I might have made that up.”
Gee willikers, my kid is super neato.
I should get up and get moving. The dog is laying at the foot of my bed and I can hear her stomach growling quite fiercely. I had all these lofty goals to get up early and get a lot of work done (because I have a lot of work to do) but I had the migraine of the century last night and didn’t sleep much. Thank God for modern medicine, eh? I may have overdosed slightly but I knocked out the headache so I win. I offer my deepest apologies to my liver which is now working over time to rid my body of toxins.
So on that note, I offer you this:
May your day today be filled with joy, headache free and super duper swell.
The end.
p.s. I’m categorizing this post as random. That sounds about right, wouldn’t you say?
New Orleans: Food, Music and Inspiration
August 30th, 2010
I spent two and a half hectic days in New Orleans this weekend and it was truly inspiring. The music, the food, the survivors, the fellow bloggers, the hot HGTV hosts…
It really was a great trip. It wasn’t without a few glitches and a few things could have been a little more organized, but I’m certainly not complaining. I ate a lot, slept very little, met some great people and saw just how much work still needs to be done down there. I think the highlight of my trip was talking with a homeowner in the Gentilly neighborhood named Brenda Wheeler. She was amazing, so encouraging, filled with faith and really blessed my heart. Despite the horror of the last five years (after Katrina her marriage fell apart, her mother died, she was displaced and she suffered serious heart problems) she was the most peaceful person I’ve ever had the privilege of speaking with.
I will be sharing her story over at 5 Minutes for Mom this week. I can’t wait for you to read it. I’m even putting together a short video of our conversation so you can see her and hear her words first hand. It was such a blessing to hear her talk about how God has blessed her life and given her strength to endure despite the hardships.
I was able to see the goodness in people as hundreds rallied to help rehabilitate homes that remain in disrepair so that New Orleans residents could finally come home. The average income in the neighborhood where I worked was roughly $16,000 a year so it is no wonder that most houses remain uninhabited, or in a state that is not healthy or safe for the residents. That region still needs help, they still need support, both financially and in basic labor. It was eye opening for me.
I got to drive throught he lower 9th Ward, where I did not see Brad Pitt (Sad Panda) but I did see the houses he built. They’re beautiful and amazing, but they sit next to wasteland. Overgrown lots and dilapitated homes leave a stark reminder of the destruction that happened. And the day I drove through it was pouring down rain. It was almost eery to see the community in the rain like that.
Here are a few pictures from the weekend, including one with me and Carter Oosterhouse who, I must say, is more adorable in person than on TV. I’ve never watched his show, but I know who he is because how can one not be aware of someone who looks like him?! Just sayin’…
And now I’m off to edit video, write a few more posts and get some coffee. I’m at the gym using their free wifi. The gym has become my office as of late. The kids get to play, I get work done and everybody wins. Well, except for my body which is just getting soft and squishy…
These women are three generations who have been displaced since Katrina hit. Their house should be completed and ready to move back in in just a few weeks. The older woman, Lula, lived in an apartment or “ghetto,” as she put it, her whole life. Her daughter Lois bought this house in 1998 because she wanted her mother and children to know what it was like to live in a home and in a safe environment. She wants to bring her aging mother home.
Many of the abandoned homes still bear the water marks from the floods. The X on the front indicated where the water peaked. The numbers are the date that the house was checked and on the bottom the number indicated if any bodies were found. Thankfully this one bears the mark of 0.
I helped build a fence with a group of kids from the Americorp. They were all between the ages of 19 and 23 and when they asked how old I was one of the boys literally let his mouth drop open. “You’re 32?!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know right?” I replied. “I’ve got one foot in the grave.”
“No! It’s just that I thought you were one of the college helpers.”
I almost kissed him, but I resisted. Instead I asked if I could adopt him. Then it got awkward. *sigh*
I was interview by the 2nd City Comedy Troup film team who were working with Sears to capture some of the events of the weekend. It was very awkward. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be funny or serious. I felt like Ricky Bobby. I don’t know what to do with my hands. Good times.
Chris Grundy of HGTV’s DiY, blogger Greta, Hotty Mc-hot-erson Carter Oosterhouse, and me. 
One of Brad Pitt’s cool looking homes in the lower 9th. But no Brad Pitt. I know, right?!
Finally, I leave you with a compilation of clips that I took the night that I explored Frenchmen Street with two of the other bloggers. I harkened back to my college days and stayed out until 2:00 am. It was awesome. I’m totally paying for it today, though. The music in New Orleans is everything you hear. It’s amazing. Enjoy…
…but I always remember to brush my teeth
August 25th, 2010
When Lee and I were first married, I lived the good life as a freelance writer/gymnastics coach. I realized early on that the typical 9-5 job wasn’t for me. It cramped my style.
Such a Prima Donna…
So I got a sweet job coaching gymnastics at the top gym in the nation, where I didn’t have to go to work until 3:00 in the afternoon and I spent my mornings ghostwriting and editing books, writing corporate newletters and walking the mall that was .2 miles from our Frisco, Texas apartment.
That was the good life. I miss that life some days (read: many days).
One of the more productive ways I filled my time was meeting every Tuesday morning with an amazing group of women from our church. Most of them were stay at home moms, save for one other woman (my dearest of friends) who had no children like me but worked as an actress so she also had a flexible schedule.
I’ll never forget one Tuesday morning as we all began our time of study and Allison, a new mom, threw open the door, her hair all askew, her eyes wide, her clothes wrinkled and a look of total bewilderment on her face.
“Getting out of the house with a baby is hard!” she exclaimed. You had to know Allison to understand how sweet and cute this moment was. We all laughed and I shook my head, totally not getting it. I mean, how hard is it to get a shower and change your clothes, right?
Fast forward three years when I myself became that wide-eyed, bewildered new mom. I would wake up each morning resolved to be cool and smooth and put together, and inevitably by 10:00am I could still be found in my wrinkled pajamas (which, of course, weren’t really pajamas but rather the clothes I had been wearing for the past several days because who had time to change her clothes on a daily basis?), my hair knotted and gnarled in tufts around my head, my eyes bloodshot and red and my bladder full because I couldn’t figure out when I was supposed to go to the bathroom.
You know…first baby syndrome.
Was I supposed to put him down and let him scream just so I could pee? But then it would take all that time and effort to get him calmed back down and God forbid the kid wants to nurse again because there’s a good chance that certain necessary parts of my chest might literally fall off if he nurses one more time…
And so I stood and bounced for hours on end. Not because he needed to be bounced, but because I needed to pee and because it kept me from thinking about the grungy state of my appearance.
It took a few weeks for me to snap out of that daze. It took some time for me to figure out that it was indeed okay to put the child down for moderate stretches of time. Good Lord, when I figured out that I could put him in the bouncy seat for 2.4 minutes of quiet and jump in the shower, I became a different woman.
One with hygiene.
Within a few months, we had settled into a nice little schedule of two solid naps a day, which allotted me all the time I wanted to make myself presentable. Glory day! Until child number two entered the picture. Then, gasp! There were two of them. If I got the baby to sleep, I still had the two year old to contend with. I don’t think I showered for a month.
But again, thanks in part to Tia being a freak of nature and sleeping roughly 19 hours a day for the first six months of her life, we eased well into a schedule that allowed me to at least pull a brush through the nest on my head and run a toothbrush over the fuzz on my teeth.
Enter kid number three.
I gave up on showers all together. Because when you shower, crazy things happen, like kids cutting each other’s hair, or small children taking a Sharpie to the walls, or any number of unimaginable craziness that can happen in the few minutes I leave them unattended.
So if you run into me in public and I look…questionable…just nod your head, smile and take heart in the fact that I always brush my teeth.
Almost always, anyways…
The one where I want to be cool
August 24th, 2010
So I’m leaving in two days for New Orleans and I’m starting to have a small panic attack.
Whatever for?! You may ask.
I’ll tell you what for. It’s not just because I have to interview CEO’s and CFO’s and Presidents of large corporations, including Sears (although I am nervous about that, but I’m pretending I’m not because if I think about it too long, my hands start to shake). It’s not because I might get to hob nob with influential public figures or meet other fantastically talented writers, because chances are I won’t actually be hob nobbing with much, although I like to pretend that when it’s all said and done I’m going to be BFF’s forever with all sorts of artsy creative folks.
Oh no. I am nervous because I don’t know how to pack. I don’t know what to wear. This is serious stuff, folks. I have to look cool and put together. What do I wear when I’m in a position of working as a volunteer while simultaneously being listed as part of the Press Corps?
I have literally googled the phrase photos of Extreme Makeover Home Edition to see what the ladies on that show wear when they’re working. I’m that desperate for ideas. Pitiful, yes?
I have dug through my wardrobe and have questioned all manner of clothing and have come to the conclusion that I could really benefit from a stylist. Darn Hollywood stars who set the fashion bar so high…
I need functional cute clothes for working and casual cool clothes for evening events and fun party clothes for going crazy on Bourbon Street.
Just kidding…not that last part. I don’t think I’ll be going to Bourbon Street. Or maybe I will – I dunno, actually. I have to get up at 3:00am on Thursday morning and be ready to go by 4:00 when a car service will pick me up. Upon arriving at my New Orleans hotel, I have an immeditae meet and greet with the PR company putting all this together. So I need to look presentable. Something tells me that I’m not going to up for late night galavanting after a long day of working and travelling.
That and the fact that I’ve never been much of a galavanter, anyway. I’m not even sure if I know how to galavant…
So what are your suggestions? How should I dress for something like this? Literally, my itinerary suggestions casual and cool clothing. Um…I’m not sure what casual cool means or looks like. I’m heading to the mall now in the hopes that there will be some wicked sale racks filled with clothing that screams CASUAL COOL.
Wish me luck…
Looking for something older? Check out the archives.
STL Family Life
Compassion International
5 Minutes for Mom
created with good intentions
Come Join the Conversation!