For the love of NOLA

Last weekend we celebrated Spring Break in New Orleans with some friends. We walked the endless streets, ate beignets and incredible seafood, drank fruity drinks, visited the casino, caught beads while watching a parade, sang and danced our hearts out....we basically did all the things you do in New Orleans and had a downright good time!!

On Saturday night we ventured out and found this fantastic place with a nice patio, great music, and a mechanical bull. Memories were made here, folks. The ladies were infatuated with Justin and dancing skills, but one in particular decided she needed to take our picture dancing together after she had her turn dancing with him. I found this series of photos on my phone and I love them. Love. Them. There is something sort of artistic about them.

However, what I perceive as an artistic eye could also be her lack of ability to hold a camera straight while being completely inebriated. After all, it was NOLA on a Saturday night.















From the bottom of my dancing heart,

P.S. I may or may not have ridden that mechanical bull.

Lunchtime Adventure Story

I ventured out for a little shopping on this absolutely gorgeous day because I just couldn't stand the thought of being couped up sweating my rear off in a spin class, which was my original plan for the day. As I crossed Main Street in downtown Houston, an apparent homeless man yells out to me,

"M'am, M'am you dropped something. You dropped something. Aren't you going to stop."

The only thing I had was my bag tucked tightly under my arm, because that is the only way to carry a bag in downtown Houston. My mind went quickly from "is he talking to me?" to "what could I have dropped?" to "is this guy a lunatic?" When I heard again...

"M'am, you dropped my heart right there on the sidewalk. Aren't you going to pick it up?"

Why no sir, I am not.

I moved along a little perplexed by that situation but thoroughly entertained.

As I was finishing up my lunch time adventure in Macy's, I noticed the same guy pass me as I was coming into the store. A grin crossed my face as I replayed our previous encounter and I promptly went about my business of purchasing some socks.

When no sooner was I in the store and at the counter about to pay and I hear the same voice...

"but I didn't take this shirt. I had it on when I came in. Go look at your video tapes."

I turned around and the noticed the same man, whose heart was splattered on the sidewalk outside, sporting a brand new plaid polo and striped cardigan with tags still attached being escorted by two security gaurds.

The moral of the story here is twofold.

1. Never, never throw your heart to someone who isn't looking or who has no interest in catching it. It will end up on the sidewalk, no doubt.

and

2. If you are going to shoplift shirts from Macy's first, be smart enough to take the tags off and be confident that two men wearing black jackets with gold letters spelling S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y will escort you straight to asset protection. Here you will probably be turned over to the police and have charges pressed against you. And then you may earn yourself at least one night in the county jail....with a bed, a meal or two, a toilet, a clean jumpsuit.

I was beginning to conclude the guy a lunatic, but I think he may be far smarter than he is given credit.

The End.

Happy Love Day

iPhone Dump and a List

My iPhone has 456 pictures on it and approximately 367 of those pictures are of my sweet niece. Today I am going to share a few of the latest. But, I'll hold off on sharing too many pictures of the sweetest and cutest baby ever. It's my attempt to leave you wanting more. So all three of my loyal readers will come back again one day.


1. If this does not leave a forever picture in your mind when you hear the saying "sleep like a baby" then I don't know what would?


2. Possibly something like this?



3. I'm in love with this guy. Today we are celebrating our love for each other. WHAT am I thinking?


4. Michael Jackson took Griffin and me to see a basketball game and we sat on the fourth row. It was a new perspective for me on the game. Those guys are giants. Huge. I had not idea. TV does NOT do them justice.



5. My BFF from High School decided to take a stroll down memory lane and came across this picture. We were 18 year old, college students. I won't reveal all the details about the story behind this picture, but it included a botched hair cut, a road trip, a cheap motel, and Aggie Land. Oh, and lots of hair spray...always lots of hair spray.


6. My love again. Not so much a giant on the basketball court, but amazing none the less.


7. Griffin is kicking my butt in spin class. He's been gloating in the fact that in the middle of a run to "Fat Bottom Girls" I have to sit my fat butt down for a rest, while he pedals away. He's just a little competitive. Maybe a lot. But, he gets it from his 'fat bottom' mother. We have a very odd relationship. I'll kick his butt next week. Because fat bottom girls....well, make the world go 'round.



8. This is how Ribbon pouts. I tried to call her name 10,000 times to take her picture, but she would not look at me. Who knew Beagles were so sensitive? Good thing they have super short term memories. A mention of food and she was motivated  in seconds to be my best friend again.



9. Have you ever had Fox's Pizza? I have one across the street and I love. love. love. their pizza. We are on a first name basis with the peeps over there. It's a part of my weekly menu planning, which is precisely why this "fat bottom girl" is struggling in spin class.



Happy Saturday Sweets!

Dirty Talk

Today I spent 45 minutes scrubbing the toilet in my 14 year old sons bathroom. And while I was scrubbing said toilet, I thought about an essay that I wrote in Mrs. Elkin's fifth grade English class. The assignment was to write in the first person from the perspective of an inanimate object. I chose a toilet. I did not stutter....you read that correctly.....a toilet.

All that I can say about that is...Thanks mom! You were one heck of a toilet cleaner because when I was in the fourth grade, I must have had no clue of the potential disgust, filth, and grossness that could accompany a toilet. I feel certain I would have never gone in that creative direction if I had any clue at all.

This essay sits somehwere in my mothers house. And, I am sure it will surface since it's mention in this blog. The details of this essay have not stuck with me over the years. Mainly just the fact that I wrote it and that it was impressionable enough for my mother to say, "be sure you get that back from your teacher after it's graded. That's one I want to hang on too. Forever." At the time, my innocence left me clueless as to her persistence on keeping this essay. In fact, her daily inquiries about whether I had received it back yet only annoyed me. And it was this persistance that made a strong enough impression on me that I vividly remember this writing assignment nearly 30 years later.

In the event that this essay does surface then I may or may not choose to share the details of that story with you. She kept it for a reason. One I am sure will make for a good laugh. But, I'm not sure I am ready to share that laugh with everyone just yet. I'm a vulnerable person, you know.

Back on topic, I have one thing to say here. Boys are disgusting.


Even cute boys like this one. D to the I to the S to the G to the U to the sS to the T to the ING!!!!!

And that's really all there is to say about that.

Warm fuzzies to you,

On Parenting...

It's becoming a theme in my life. After 14 years, it's about dang time, don't you think?

Below is a pictorial representation of my philosophy of parenting. Well, an aspect of parenting. A foundational aspect of parenting.


It's simply says, that as an infant children wholly depend on their parents to be the decision makers. They have no authority or power, other than a blood curdling scream, to make decisions for themselves about what they will eat, where they will sleep, what they will wear, etc.

But, as a child grows through the stages of the toddler years on up through adolescence and the dreaded teenage years, they are given more authority to make decisions for themselves within the safety net of parental boundaries.

Let me give you an example:

When Griffin was a toddler he was given the option of 2-3 outfits to choose from when getting dressed for school. He could choose within the very limited selection he was provided.

During elementary school his instruction were that he could choose any collared shirt Monday through Thursday from his wardrobe and was free to wear T-shirts on Friday.

This was a Friday and I clearly lost the battle on tube socks vs. ankle socks. It happened a lot. But, I chose my battles wisely. Tube socks- not really a battle worth fighting.

This was a rough morning. It was a battle of the wills. Obviously, he was NOT happy with the rules and wanted to go to school in his robe, helmet, and gloves. But, I stood my parental ground and we came to an agreement.

And all was right with the world again.

We have now entered Junior High and he is allowed nearly full wardrobe creative rights. As long as he is within the school dress code policy. However, I still have the authority to veto purchases when shopping for school clothes because the majority of the time, I am paying for those clothes.

He attempted to get out of the house in this one morning, but I gently reminded him of the time that he pushed the dress code policy rules and wore my mini skirt to school under the pretense that it was no shorter than his finger tips and he ended day in after school detention. He decided to change.

It's my vision and utter hope that as he continues into High School he will have a job earning money of his own. This will lead to full authorized purchasing power in the hands of one diligent and hardworking teenage boy. Guess what? The only position that I will take is to veto anything that is completely inappropriate for the occasion. Like if he wants to wear a speedo to Uncle Bartholomew's wedding, I might take the liberty of strongly encouraging him to re-think his choice of attire lest he be completely alienated from the remainder of the family to sulk in a corner and wonder why in the world his family has left him in such a state of loneliness and despair.


This could be him one day. I'm just saying, I will do everything in my power to help prevent that, but ultimately it is HIS decision.

Let's say a prayer for him now... Amen.

Seriously though, this theory of mine applies to all decision making. How to spend/save money, what to eat/drink, how much time to spend studying and doing homework, how to use his designated free time, and the list goes on and on and on. And the hardest part is sticking with this theory. Being consistent is by far more exhausting than just deciding for him what he's going to order from the menu in a restaurant or who he is going to invite to his birthday party or what he is going to spend his allowance on this next week (or save, SAVE, SAVE that money).

Y'all- I. mess. this. up. all. the. time. Especially when I can see an epic fail in the making. Oh yea, it happens! But I have to continually remind myself its better for that epic fail to happen in my presence where I can assist with piecing his life back together than for it to happen when he's out there on his own in the cold, lonely, cruel, harsh, big, bad world of adulthood.

My heart's hope is that he leaves the nest with skills to make educated decision, has experienced some failures so he understands they aren't the end of the world when he experiences other cruel and unusual punishment dished out by the world, and that he always knows he can come back to his mama for support and encouragement in the form of a hug, cup of coffee, and a chocolate chip cookie. Because let's face it, life is better with coffee and chocolate chip cookies.

Signing off now,

Lead Me.. into 2011

Whoa! I just checked the date of my last post. Falling off the blog post wagon happens to the best of us, I guess. But, just like everything else in life, I'll just pick right up and get back on.

This last weekend I was driving home from a brief weekend excursion, reflecting on 2010 and thinking about this new year and all the mysteries it has yet to unveil. Lost in the depths of some serious imagination, I suddenly found myself singing along to an amazing new song by Sanctus Real that was on the radio.



Now, what girl in her right mind doesn't want to be married to that man? No really, he is amazingly handsome, has a beautiful voice, is sensitive and insightful, loves the Lord and above all....acknowledges his screw ups. Seriously, that is the ultimate guy. Am I right ladies?

I kid. I kid. Don't get your britches all in a wad, guys.

But, as I reflected on this song I found myself thinking about the words simply from the perspective of a parent. Unfortunately, I have to admit that my kid doesn't always get my best. Fortunately, I recognize that he deserves my best. But sometimes, I am a little late in recognizing that.

That's why he is allowed to dress up like this:


Play with real toys like this:


Or this:

Oh, I think I got off track a little. Let's take a hard right and get back on course. Where were we? New year, parent issues, Lead Me, teenager with reckless abandon....oh yea, got it now.

The line of the song that reached out and grabbed my heart....

see their faces, look in their innocent eyes
They're just children from the outside
I'm working hard, I tell myself they'll be fine
They're independent

One of the most common compliments that I get about my son is that he so well behaved, mature, and independent for his age. I get a big grin on my face and thank the kind person for their sweet words and recognition and try to remember to always acknowledge that I am blessed and that the Lord was surely looking out for me when he gave me this independent, mature, well-behaved (in public- grins) kid of mine.

But inside, I reel with torment. It's a battle I have fought nearly daily from the time he could empty a garbage can. Because that is exactly what he has been doing. Helping me. As a single parent, I have thrust upon him duties well beyond his years. Don't get me wrong, I love that he can empty trash cans, wash dishes, do laundry, cook meals, put gas in the car, do the yard work, and on and on and on. I'm sure one day, he will impress the socks off a young lady like no other. And at 14 I don't believe he is doing anything more than any other 14 year old should be doing. BUT, he's been at it a heck of a lot longer than he should have had too!!

The following line of the song that moved from my heart to my throat and nearly took the breath out of me was this...

But on the inside, I can hear them saying...
“Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love
Chasing dreams, but what about us?

One of my goals for 2011 is to be that parent that leads him, being faithful and true to the Lord as a steward of this precious gift of a child he has entrusted me with and always seeking His direction in my life so that I can be the leader that Griffin needs me to be...

...as long as he continues to clean his room, do his laundry, and keep up with the yard work. (You know I'm kidding, right? It's a habit I have. Well, sort of.)

Ringing in the New Year,