Mr. Personality & More Not Politics

The President (my son, not the actual president of the United States) has been on a roll lately. I never know what he's going to say, but he always cracks me up. This morning, I was teaching Sunday School for the age group just above his. I let him sit in with me because many of his friends were moving up to that class for the first time. With several new children, I suggested everyone would have a chance to introduce and tell a little about themselves.

It was a pretty typical exercise. You know, one person mentions they have a new puppy and a four-wheeler...so everyone has a new puppy or they're getting a new puppy and a four-wheeler.

Until my kid. "My name is The President and I like cheese and sometimes I can point my eyes in two different directions."

I heart him.

Later, during our lesson we were to name examples of disasters our country has faced and how we can support others in their time of need.

My question: "Who can name a disaster that has happened in our country?"

My child's response: "When Clinton bought real estate?"

I can't make this stuff up.

What Will He Think of Next?

I know everyone thinks their kids are the cutest, smartest, most-well behaved...and all that. So, it will come as no surprise when I share how funny, imaginative, and smart my children are.

Yesterday morning, the boys dressed and lined up their favorite animals from Build-a-Bear Workshop on the kid-sized sofa in their room. Then, The President informed me that since I had "nothing to do all day" it would be my job to teach his "sons" while he was away at school.

Sure, I'd be glad to...now put on your shoes! Eat breakfast! Brush your teeth! Don't forget your backpack! And so another day begins.

When we'd been home from school for a couple of hours, he asked me "what the boys learned today?" Huh? Oh...I had forgotten my promise to mold the minds of his best pals.

"Ummm, uh, we sang the alphabet song, and counted, and then talked about how bees (the theme of The President's second grade classroom) gather nectar & make honey."

"What kind of pictures did you show them?"

You've got to be kidding me. I'm being held accountable for my lesson plans & use of visual aids for stuffed animals? Seriously.

I told him that we didn't have time to get to that.

"That's right," he said. "It is just the first day."

So, today I propped up a book about dinosaurs in front of the animals...maybe he'll be impressed that I remembered my teaching responsibilities.

This probably could be a second post, but it is kind of along the same lines....and I'm in a hurry to go pick up Fat Baby at preschool.

The President found a nice, smooth river rock that he named aptly, Rocky. We drew a face, hair & a moustache on Rocky with a sharpie, and he's been pretty popular around here lately.

School has been in session three weeks now, and My Baby's Daddy has not been at home at all in the mornings, and has missed the majority of meals served in the evening. He works in a sales job, but also does real estate part-time. The market is crappy right now, so if he's seeing clients and making deals I say, "Your plate will be in the microwave when you get home."

But it's harder for children to understand when a parent is "never home." The President wants to spend time with Dad (a.k.a. "the FUN parent"). Last night, My Baby's Daddy got home as I was orchestrating bath time for the boys. When The President put on his PJs, he collected Rocky, brought him to our room and announced, "Dad, Rocky wants to buy a house." (Smart kid to put together the way to get dad's attention). It was so cute to listen to them:

My Baby's Daddy: Has Rocky been to the bank?

The Pres: Oh, yeah...a couple of times.

MBD: So, he's prequalified. How much does he want to spend?

TP: Fifteen thousand or two hundred.

The finally drew up a contract, and had some great time together. I am looking forward to a long week-end of more moments like these. And help with bath time. And no lunches to pack. And no carpool line. And...

A Post Not About Politics

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that my 8 year old son is determined to be the President of the United States. He asked for a desk and a "world ball" (globe) from Santa when he was 5 years old. He's like Alex P. Keaton with attitude. This is not something we've pushed him to do at all, but we do love that our son has the confidence and intelligence to pursue lofty goals.

Now I feel compelled to say this: I do not like to discuss politics. I don't want you to judge my beliefs (that's why I keep them to myself), and I don't want to hear you preach yours (whether they are the same or different than mine). And many times, I've been in the worst possible situation--where someone is spouting their political beliefs, assuming yours are the same. That being said, this post does not necessarily reflect my own personal political opinions. I am open-minded and fair, and do not attempt to inflict my beliefs onto others--even my own child. His opinions are his alone. And while they are sometimes rooted in immature thinking (I'm voting for so-and-so because I like the way his name sounds, or he went to college at my favorite school), I'm teaching him to gather information, watch the news, and form his opinions accordingly. Keep in mind, however, that we do have an outspoken, "old school" grandparent who lives with us.

I'm often surprised at how much The Pres has learned about our country's government and current events. This was his reaction to the Democratic National Convention coverage this morning:

(News footage of Hillary Clinton on the Today show) "I thought Clinton got flushed down the toilet like a turd...so, what's she doing on the news?"

Thoughts Before Naptime

I am only half-functional today, so read at your own risk. The boys & I spent the day at an amusement/ water park yesterday. It was so much fun, but I am exhausted beyond belief. Here are some random thoughts for your entertainment:

1. Should I become independently wealthy, one of the first things I am going to do is to hire a full-time nanny/personal assistant. I took our regular babysitter with us to "funland" yesterday & got a taste of how the other half lives. How much more could I enjoy my kids with some full-time help? And, it wasn't just having someone around to do the grunt work, it's little things like passing out snacks (that I usually do while I drive) that made life so much easier. I could easily see the job transitioning into someone to be my helper when the kids no longer needed hands-on care. (I'm talking about this like it's actually going to happen...)

2. If you saw me at the Wal-Marts a while ago, let me apologize if I frightened you. I know I look rough today, but it's Wal-Mart, okay?

3. While we were out, we needed to grab some lunch. The President wanted to have Chinese. When he has eaten Chinese, it has almost always been a buffet where he could try little bits & pieces of different things. I didn't know what he might order from the nearby menu-order only place, so I was describing things he might like. I said, "You would probably like sweet & sour chicken. It's fried chicken that you dip into a red sauce, kind of like chicken nuggets." He said, "Mom, I can't order American at a Chinese place...that would be disrespecting their flag." Well, duh, why didn't I think of that? We went to McDonald's because a) Fat Baby didn't want Chinese b)it's in the Wal-Mart, and c)I was ready to come home & be slovenly.

4. Potty-gate is still going strong. Fat Baby is very soon going to be four. years. old. He's not so much into the big boys go potty thing. At all. I am now potty trained--I go every 30 minutes and force him to tinkle. (Which he will do, but it has to be my idea). He has never(!) initiated a trip to the potty. Seriously. This is getting old. He is wearing underwear every day, and it is a constant battle to keep him dry. Lately, the pull-up he wears to sleep has been leaking. Big time. Not fun when said 4-year-old happens to be in your bed at the time. It was just what his diapers would do each time I had to move up to the next size. Luckily, there are Good Nights that go up to 65 pounds, because that's what he's going to be wearing tonight. And during the day, I'll just wash underpants until the cows come home and until he figures out how this all works. (Disclaimer: I did have a child who was completely potty trained with no accidents two weeks after his 3rd birthday, so this is not all my fault!) Fun times!

Blessings

I'm sitting here in the office all alone (a rare treat, definitely)...I'm doing some work, reading some blogs, and counting my blessings. God has grown me so much spiritually in the past two years, and I am excited to be on the verge of many great things in spite of great challenges my family has faced. I'm so thankful for my wonderful family. I'm grateful for the opportunity I've had to spend time with my boys this summer. I'm living in the moment. Thanking Him for all He has given to me.


Then, from the boys' room I hear sweet voice of my 8 year old telling his brother, "Sorry doesn't pay the rent!"

Evidence once again that God has a sense of humor.

I love being a boys' mom...

Because this afternoon, I was pelted in the back of the head while driving home from school with four stinky little socks. Just like their Southern Fried Mom, my boys love to get out of their shoes first thing.

Then, of course, they start with the foot-sniffing. They smell their own, they smell each-other's. If we were at home, they'd be smelling mine. (Please tell me that mine are not the only kids who do this!)

The President made the unlikely announcement that, "Fat Baby's feet smell like Cheez-Its!!!!"

Later, just after dinner, they began to antagonize and aggravate each other. Fat Baby began to whine/cry, and My Baby's Daddy gave him Man Advice. "You're as big as he is...go kick his butt!" (Thanks, MBD, for when I get the notes home from preschool that Fat Baby is threatening to kick people's butts!)

Fat Baby ran through the house like a tazmanian devil, chasing his evil big brother. Pop, unaware of all of this says, "Hey, Fat Baby...where are you going in such a hurry?"

His reply, "I've got to go kick that butt!!!"

I told y'all he was the president...

So, on Wednesday, The President has to do a report and presentation about a famous American. He chose the president (duh). He also has to come to school dressed as the aforementioned famous American. When I brought home his navy blazer and striped power tie, I thought he was going to hyperventilate. (It just occurred to me that I'm raising Alex P. Keaton). He has been campaigning (pun intended) for a "tuxedo" for two years. I could not make myself buy an honest-to-God suit (cheesy)for a seven year old, but he is going to rock the house with a blue oxford, khakis, and bucks (apparently they're making a comeback)along with the tie and blazer. I can totally coordinate the ensemble de frat boy. Looks just like his dad back in the day. It was so freaking cute, I could not look directly at him.

I told him that we should dress Fat Baby in black and sunglasses with a walkie-talkie to be the Secret Service. (Also a good idea for Halloween...)

Later, The Pres told me that he didn't understand...everyone knows about the Secret Service, why not just call it The Service?!? Smart ass.

In a non-presidential moment, we were having a conversation about the weather....(80 degrees today, 40 by the middle of the week) and the possibility of storms. I asked The President if he'd ever heard that March is "in like a lion, out like a lamb." He hadn't. I asked him to think about it & tell me what he thought that meant.

"Is it when you have a fart & then let it out softly?"

Hail to the Chief!

For the Love of Chocolate

Last night I was getting the boys ready for bath time, and it just so happened that Fat Baby's diaper was completely dry. And since my wish for him to just go ahead & potty train himself hasn't come true yet, I decided to take the opportunity for an easy shot....so to speak. I put him on the potty & poured a little warm bath water on the target shooter for some encouragement. And guess what? He DID it!!!! Woo hoo!

I wanted to make as big a deal as possible, and to do something quick to have him make the connection that: pee on potty = fun

I jumped up & down and clapped and cheered like crazy. Then I ran to the kitchen & grabbed a Dove milk chocolate heart. I gave it to him while he was still on there to reinforce the association. pee on potty = yummy chocolate

Around the corner I heard the sound of The President mumbling something. I asked what he said & I heard him coughing into his hand...."I need chocolate!"

"Why do you need chocolate? He got that chocolate for peeing on the potty...did you help him tinkle on the potty?"

"I was his agent."

He got the chocolate, of course.

A little bit nice and a lot of naughty

First of all, if anybody is still checking in on this blog....Bless your heart! I have no excuse for not posting, except that the datebook is full right now (fa la la la la....) and since I neither gave birth to nor get paid for the blog, it's on the "we'll catch up in the New Year" list. Along with my laundry. And my husband's semi-annual conjugal visit.

That being said, I couldn't resist sharing some great holiday moments of the Southern Fried House of Fun, 2007 edition.

The first one is not funny, but was a very moving experience for me this year. Our group of friends has a casual holiday gathering every year. We usually feast on Christmas goodies, have a few cocktails, and do a "dirty Santa" gift exchange. A fun, low-key, kid-free evening. Well, this year, the hostess & I happened to attend an event at our church and were looking over the "angel tree" where needy families' information was posted. We were surprised and sad to see a family we knew, and the mom had been in a Preschool Mom's group with us a couple of years ago. The list simply said, "We can't afford to buy Christmas for our children this year." We just looked at each other, and back at the list...Then, we took it down & quickly went home to e-mail everyone with the change of plans. Instead of dirty Santa gifts no one needs, we would take the money to bring gifts for the family. We filled a dining room table, and wrapped all the gifts beautifully. It was fantastic, and will be our new tradition. Things like that put me in the spirit of Christmas more than anything else.

The President is looking forward to the holiday, and as you might imagine, has a very specific list for The Man in Red. He's very easy to buy for, and has not faltered from his original gift requests. As I've said before, he's very observant. I downloaded the song "Santa Baby" as my ringtone for my cellphone. As I was packing his lunch the other day, I was singing "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Well, he put 2 + 2 together, and said, "Ohhhhhh, so that's what the song Santa Baby is all about!" It's sex ed, the holiday edition! And he's only seven. Yippee.

We had a chance to meet Santa on a field trip the other day. Each of the children was given an opportunity to climb up and present their list of demands. My son (he's not called The President for nothing!) leads off with, "First, I've got two questions:

#1) Am I on the nice list?
He was.

#2) Do you have a budget?
Yes. He really asked Santa Claus that...and St. Nick said, "This kid's gonna be a politician!" Everybody cracked up.

And, not to be left out of the festivities, Pop has been teaching Fat Baby to spread the holiday cheer. Ask my three year old, "What does Santa say?"

"HO HO HO....bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!"

Breakin' the Law

My oldest child is a sponge. He has an amazing ability to retain things he hears & use them in the appropriate context, even if he doesn't completely understand the meaning. And, yeah, he watches a lot of TV. I never know what's coming next.

Like this morning...

Every day when we pull into the drive of his school, he unfastens his seat belt and leans over my seat to give me kisses. I told him even though I'd be back in a few hours for his Thanksgiving celebration, I still wanted my kisses. We hadn't quite pulled all the way into the parking lot when the smooch-fest began. Then, The President noticed the policeman who directs the school traffic every morning. And he said...

"It's the MAN, man!"


Edited to add: When I checked him out after his Thanksgiving lunch, we were in line behind a soldier in his camouflage uniform. Leaving his mom teary-eyed, speechless, and oh-so very proud, my son walked up to him and said, "Thank you for serving our country."

This is how my mind works...

I am so tired of that trick-or-treat post, I can't even tell you. I wish I had time to post every day. This time last year, I was doing NaBloPoMo (national blog posting month). Great fun, got a lot of new traffic, can't commit this time. Too bad for me. I seriously wish I could clone myself, as I really don't have time to be sitting here right now.

Because I know all 6 of you who read this blog are on the edge of your seats...here's the news around here:

*We've all been in bed by 8:30 every night this week. Thank you, Jesus for the time change!

*I can't believe that Sabrina was voted off Dancing With The Stars. She was seriously the best dancer.

*Recently overheard, The President to Fat Baby: "I've got three words for you, Fat Baby---SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE!!!! Actually, that's two words and a compound word." I'm so glad he's learning something in school this year.

*For the first time in my life, I will be cooking Thanksgiving dinner at my own house this year. I feel like such a grown-up, I'm totally excited! My Martha-genes are working overtime. The only other time we've not traveled to visit relatives for Thanksgiving was the first year we were married. We lived about 4 hours away, and My Baby's Daddy (who was just known as My Hubby then) worked as the director of dining services on a college campus. Their football team was in the playoffs, and consequently he had to be there to supervise their holiday meal. I spent the day alone in a town I hated, and when he got home (late) we had turkey subs from Subway. That's love, people. We did have a family thing later in the week-end, so you don't have to feel too sorry for me. I felt plenty sorry for myself! Anyway, I am going to rock the house with my first ever Turkey Day meal!

*I've kind of started a little borderline holiday shopping. No lists yet, though.

*I have two ideas for our Christmas card picture. Coming soon.

*I'm considering a pre-lit artifical tree. Where's the best place to go? We usually have a live Frasier fir, but I've heard there's a tree shortage, and since they're going to be $$$$, I might as well invest in something permanent and convenient. I'm willing to entertain arguments for and against. Offer up your opinions!

White House Bound...

Since he could talk, my son has dreamed of being The President of the United States. Hey, if you're going to dream--dream big, right? The kid is a natural born politician! His adult mannerisms and vocabulary never cease to amaze me, but...

At the end of the school year last year, we decided to retain him to repeat the first grade. Being one of the youngest and smallest in his class, combined with an inhereted short attention span (thanks, My Baby's Daddy!) made the first time around extremely challenging for The Pres. Not to mention we had a major family trauma-drama at the beginning of the second semester, and everything went to hell-in-a-handbasket.

The fabulous last-year's teacher and I decided that we would do everything we could to make the retention a positive experience for The President. We wanted him to be excited about now being the oldest one in the class, and being able to do things easily that were a struggle last year. We decided to capitalize on his love of politics and get him involved with Student Council when the new school year began.

Well, the school added an extra grade to the facility this year, and the administration decided to have only second graders govern through Student Council. Last year's teacher, this year's teacher, and yours truly were all stressed out when the word came down a couple of weeks ago. The President had to do Student Council. He was born to govern! He would have been eligible to participate, had we not decided to retain him and give him a better academic foundation! This can't be happening!

Last night at the PTO meeting, the Assistant Principal (Student Council sponsor) told this year's teacher, The President, and myself that The Pres was welcome to invite administrative staff (principal, asst. principal, and counselor) to a debate.

He was all over it! They did NOT know who they were dealing with! My baby went in there & knocked their socks off! He told them that the Student Council should focus on doing good things for other people (specifically citing examples like Hurricane Katrina) and that it was their job to represent the school and community. (And he was NOT coached, either!)

Needless to say he is the newest member of the Student Council at his school. It is a very proud day for The Pres and his mama!

Crap

This morning, I found myself feeling creative & with a few minutes to spare. So I made a little note with scrapbook paper & stickers to go in The President's lunchbox. It said, "YOU ROCK! Have a great day. I love you, Mom"
(I occasionally surprise him with a little note. One day last year, he sent the note back & had written "Thanck you" on the back) I pretty much forgot about it until I picked him up this afternoon & some little punkass kid says, "The President hated that note you sent today."

Well, my sweet and sensitive first born just absolutely lost it. He began sobbing and saying, "No I didn't Mom...I LOVED it! I really did, Mom. It was a great note & I loved it."

I didn't have time to talk to the teacher (until later this evening at our PTO meeting), but she did reprimand the child & remind him that "we've already discussed this at snack time."

I was heartbroken for my son, and hopeful that my well-intentioned note hadn't caused him to be ridiculed. Mostly though, I was pissed. Kids are so mean. I told The Pres that if he still wanted me to send surprise notes I would. And maybe there might just be an extra surprise...like cash or chocolate, so he could taunt the kid & say, "Yeah, I really hate it that my mom sent me this special note!!!

I have PMS, too. I am ready to put on my pjs and enjoy Dancing With the Stars.

Oh, and Fat Baby put his hands down the back of his pants and finger-painted with poop today.

Oh, Boys!

Overheard yesterday afternoon while cooking dinner:

The President (in a voice just above a stage whisper): "Fat Baby, say Oh, CRAP!"

Fat Baby: "Oh, CRAP!"

Pres: "Say, CRAP!"

Fat Baby: "CRAP!"

President (slightly softer voice): "Fat Baby, say SHIT!"

Fat Baby: "SHIT!"

Pres: "Say, SHIT!"

Fat Baby: "SHIT!!!!"

It makes me so happy when they can entertain themselves.


And another peek into our Southern Fried World....

When I went to pick up Fat Baby at preschool this afternoon, the teacher told me that he didn't want to take a nap (& since he's so. freaking. loud)--she asked him if he would like to go play in another classroom while his classmates slept. When I picked him up she said, "Ms. Teacher-in-the-other-class says she wants to meet Fat Baby's mom!" Yep, that's me. I'm the girl who produced this loud, buck-wild, funny as hell, into-every-darn-thing, naughty-but-in-a-I'm-so-damn-cute-you-don't-want-to-hurt-me kind of way...Yes, I am responsible for that. Funny how he's the hit of the party everywhere we go, yet no one will take me up on my offers to let them have him for a day, week, or month at a time...hmmmm, what's up with that?

Words of Wisdom from my boys

Life around the Southern Fried House of Fun has been a never-ending roller coaster ride of chaos. School started on August 9th. That Saturday, we celebrated Fat Baby's third birthday (which was actually the 12th) with a pool party. On the 13th, I turned 36. Yeah, I'm on the dark side of my thirties. Yippee. And, oh yeah, we're potty training. It sucks. I'll tell you straight up, the 5-day-a-week-daycare trained the President, and I just reinforced it at home. And so I am spending a L O T of time in the toilet begging, pleading, cajoling, bribing, threatening, and getting nowhere fast. I'm not too worried about it, honestly. It will happen before he goes to college, but for the sake of the preschool staff, I'm making an effort.

In traditional, grown-man-in-a-7-year-old-body-fashion, the President has been throwing me some zingers this morning. For example:

He was talking about some of the 'tween shows on Disney Channel with his dad & he said that if Hannah Montana's bodyguard (female) became the manager of the Naked Brothers Band, then she would be the "womanager."

He was getting dressed this morning to go to the store with my husband & came out with socks & tennis shoes. To save time I suggested that he just put on Crocs or flip-flops. I was told, "Mom. Crocks and flip-flops are 'so last year!' "

Finally, as we were all gathered in the bathroom, waiting for Fat Baby to produce a little squirt, The Pres tells his little brother, "It's all about transportation. When you've gotta go, just take yourself to the bathroom & put your stuff in the toilet."

And not to leave out the budding philosopher known as Fat Baby. The other day, I was pulling out all the potty training tricks I could think of. So I put a few Froot Loops in the bowl for him to shoot. I forgot that he had eaten that kind of cereal for breakfast until he said in his booming baby voice, "I EAT THAT!" Bad idea, Mom.

Snapshots of Back-to-School

Today was our first day back. I hate transitional days. I think I'll do this post in bullet form, because I seem to be typing in bulllet statements. Here goes:

• The President is (by our choice) repeating the first grade this year. He has several strikes against him, in that he is

#1) male

#2) hereditarily pre-disposed to ADD (remember My Baby's Daddy has adult ADD)

and #3) he has a late birthday

Last year's school performance did not at all reflect the brightness, intellect, and high scores that you would expect from The Pres. Teachers & the (fabulous!) school guidance counselor assured me that it could very well be nothing more than that late birthday. He was 6-9 months younger than most of his class. We decided to try it again, and if attention-span issues arise (again), we will address them. He is very cool with trying it again. He's a fan of being the oldest one in class, and most likely the best reader.

• Yesterday, The President & I made homemade cookies that I sent to the teacher this morning in the cutest little pink striped bakery-box. It's never too early to kiss a little ass. (And I really do appreciate teachers who are underpaid for the phenomenal work they do.)



• It rained for like 3 weeks of our summer vacation (not complaining, we need the rain down here). Today it is hotter than three hells. Why couldn't it be 159 degrees and sunny when all we had to do was splash in the pool?



• When I left to pick up The Pres, Fat Baby decided to climb in the big boy booster instead of his carseat. It's a short drive, and he definitely exceeds the minimum weight requirement to do the booster. When we got to the school, he unbuckled and began to roam around the van. He made his way to my lap, and pretended to drive. When I had to pull forward about 15 feet, I felt like the Britney Spears of our school, with baby on my lap. (No, I am not shaving my head...though I am about half bat-shit crazy).



• Got the big boy in the car, great first day, and soon heading for home. Our elementary school changed the pick-up procedure slightly, so I'm sitting in one of four lanes of traffic, with hundreds of cars in front and hundreds of cars behind. This total. freaking. dumb. ass. in front of me starts to do a three point turn, like he's just going to weave around & jet on out of there! I was so pissed off! Even if it's his first time at our school, he had to know that we couldn't all just cut & run when we felt like it....I can't stand it when people think the rules don't apply to them! The President was afraid I would take my unstable, hormonal self out there & embarass him. I almost did.



• Fat Baby starts military pre-school on Monday. After he flooded the bathroom yesterday, dumped a whole colander full of freshly-washed grapes all over the kitchen floor to watch them roll, and was generally a pain in the butt...I have to say it was quite easy to commit to three days a week for him. I hope to the GoodLordUp Above that they teach him how to follow directions, and how to transition from one activity to the next, because I sure as hell haven't been able to.


• Have I mentioned that it's hot as Hades around here?!? I flat-ironed my hair twice today! (A sister's gotta stay cute, ya know?)


• I'll be glad when we get into our new routine!

Show Me The Money!

My son, The President is a budding capitalist. He loves him some cold, hard cash. I admire that. Today we had one of those impromptu "teaching moments" as I was preparing to go to the bank to make a deposit. He often takes inventory of his piggy bank, which weighed in around 100 bucks this morning. I explained that if he saved and invested, he would have enough money to buy his own car when the time came; and later he would be able to buy his own home. "Now doesn't that sound better than blowing your money on candy and crappy little toys that will break and be thrown away?"



Twelve years of being married to Dave Ramsey's biggest fan have made their mark on Southern Fried Mom. My Baby's Daddy was loving it, as I explained the merits of saving and investing. ("Do as I say....")



The President was all in the halleleujah chorus, too. He's planning his jet-set life, full of big bucks and a seat on Air Force One. Then he asked, "How much money will I have when I'm 37, mom?"



"Oh, thousands and thousands of dollars..."



"Well, would it be appropriate for me to take a money-bath, then?"



"Absolutely."



Now I know how Donald Trump's mom must've felt.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President

*For those of you keeping track...this is my 100th post! (Is that all?!? It seems like she never shuts up!) I will follow blogging tradition on my next post with 101 things about me...you won't want to miss.


But today....Today is a very special day. It's the day I fell in love. Seven years ago today, my little boy, The President was born. And I became somebody's mommy. It's so funny to me now that I don't even think about being a mom anymore...it's just totally who I am, down to the very core of my soul. But back then, I did not know jack about being somebody's mom. All I knew was that I was going to hold him, and kiss him, and totally love him to pieces, and do the best job I could. When he was a teeny little bundle of softness, wrapped in layers of dreft-scented yumminess, there wasn't too much I could do to screw him up.

I mean, there was the one time...(the President loves for me to tell this story)...when he was a couple of months old that I got him out of the baby bathtub, took him over to the changing table & slathered Johnson's vapor rub all over his butt instead of Desitin. I ran right back over to the tub & dunked his little hiney in there over & over while he screamed his head off. When I stopped crying, I realized that I would probably someday make far worse mistakes where he's concerned. And I have.

After those first tedious, uncertain months, you start to let your guard down. You become more comfortable with the whole "I'm a mom" thing. Seven years later, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn't somebody's mom. It's gotten easier...and it's gotten harder.

I can barely remember his baby-hood. I mean, it only lasted like one day...The day he started kindergarten, I thought I would never recover. I had nausea and chest pains for weeks leading up to that day. But, I did recover, and I love watching him learn and grow. So, while he is now a much more independent, self-sufficient little guy...he is also facing new challenges. When he is frustrated or unhappy, my heart aches. When I am called upon to make a decision for his future, I am afraid that I won't make the best choice.


The things he does and says never fail to amaze me. I see little pieces of myself in his sassy attitude, or his righteous indignation when things don't happen exactly when and how he thinks they should. I see my dad in his serious scowl, and his quick wit. He is my husband when he is kind and patient and snuggly.

He is the best of all of us...and he is an amazing little person. We've often said he was born a 40 year old man, he has such a grown-up perspective. But to me, he will always be my baby. Happy Birthday, Mr. President! I love you!

Makin' Mama Proud

This week was Vacation Bible School. I don't know if the tradition is the same everywhere, but here in the South VBS is a big deal. And it has come a long way since I was growing up. Gone are the days of dixie cups of kool-aid and cookies with your bible stories...These days VBS is interactive, and the kids travel to different stations to fully experience the lesson through crafts, drama, music, games, and snacks. Since I had my hands full helping Pop with some necessary medical & paperwork details, a good friend helped a sister out & took my boys to church each night. They both really loved it. I loved the three-plus hours they were out of the house each evening. This is the first year since I've had kids that I haven't been actively involved and volunteering with VBS, but I feel that being there with my dad is a blessing and a calling that I can't afford to miss. So, I sent my little chickens out to get them some religion every night. On Sunday, our entire church service consisted of the kids performing the songs & recapping the bible points learned each night. The music that goes with the curriculum we use for VBS each year is always outstanding. The kids learn simple gestures and dance steps that go along with the lesson each day. We are blessed to have a great, energetic and enthusiastic worship-leader for the music. (She also happens to be a kindergarten teacher & is wonderful with the kids).

Now, a little background....the President is not all about performing. That's just not his thing. He loves to have his picture in the newspaper, or wouldn't even mind being on tv--just not dancing around & singing. In fact, he told me before church that he didn't believe he would participate, thankyouverymuch. To which I pleaded, "C'mon...just let me get a few pictures." After several minutes of debate, I told him I would give him a dollar to sing (and act like a normal six year old for once, for the love of God!) He is such a little capitalist, I know how to motivate him. He said, "Make it two & you've got a deal!" And he's been this way his whole life.

So imagine my utter delight when Fat Baby (not even three years old) is up there on stage, doing the motions & DROPPING IT LIKE IT'S HOT!!!! That kid was breaking it down! It was fantastic! He was center stage & totally stole the show! After a few songs, he started to climb down off the stage & I brought him to sit with me. You could just see the old ladies all over the congregation smiling at his irresistible cuteness. I was beaming as I snuggled him on my lap. Then, in that quiet moment just before the prayer...he looked into my eyes and smiled so sweetly, and pulled open my blouse and squealed, "BOOBIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Something's Fishy...

Everybody put your fins together & give a big welcome to the two newest members of the Southern Fried Family--Charlie and Cindy. We went to the Spring Fling at The President's school today, where he won coupons for two FREE goldfish. Yippee. Oh boy. So, I after a trip to Wal-Mart, where I spent about $40 in fish supplies, we stopped by the pet store to claim our prize. (That's right--even though they gave me the 28 cent goldfish, I didn't buy their over-priced tank and fish food).

The Southern Fried Family doesn't have a great track record with pets...our dog died when I was pregnant with The President. On the day before Thanksgiving. I didn't even know I was pregnant yet. I've got two words for you: hysterical hormones. I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried...you get the picture. Since the boys came along, we have killed four hermit crabs and a turtle. Didn't shed a tear. Well, I did tear up when we had to have a shoebox burial and funeral service for Tuck, the turtle. The President said a little prayer, asking God to watch out for Tuck, and thanking the turtle for being such a great friend. (We had him less than a month).

So, neither The President or I have great expectations for this little endeavor. We know we could have floaters on our hands at a moment's notice. I even told my son that I would get us a sturdier Beta fish for Plan B when these two go on to the big fishbowl in the sky. Even as the pet shop guy was scooping them out, I was telling The Pres how we would flush them when they die. I've got to teach him to be realistic...and realistically, goldfish don't last very long. Around here, even less.

Then on the ride home, he's talking to them...I wish I had a video camera rolling. He's introducing himself, "Hi, guys! I'm your new owner. You're going to live with us, and you will love it. We bought you a nice tank, and I'll feed you every day. I had a turtle and some hermit crabs, but they're dead...but I promise I won't let you die! I'm going to take such good care of you." The idea of having these fish for pets is starting to grow on me...until the novelty wears off & I'm left to clean the tank.