The little people in this household have had a glorious few days.
Day One: Yay! Snow!!
Bulldozing a trail
Snowballs!
Deciding on their next victim.
Sledding, redneck-style.
Why, hello, Randy! Where's Chevy?
Of course, not everyone was so pleased to see the white stuff.
The Very Reluctant Snow Shepherd
I am not leaving my doggie bed for the not-so-great outdoors. You cannot budge me.
$*#%&*%$!!!!!
This year, Hubs and I are participating in the father/daughter and mother/daughter routines for Tootie’s dance recital. And so are Moody Mom and her hubby.
First, I have to say that Hubs is a marvelous dancer, so his routine has been moving along nicely. As for me? Well, I can dance by myself, but I’m finding it difficult to lead my daughter, especially when it comes to twirling her.
Here’s a sampling from last Saturday. The men’s dance is “My Girl” and the women’s is “Respect.”
Music begins. Hubs is in the black shirt.
Now the men walk out, snapping their fingers and veering left and right.
The girls scamper out to join their daddies.
The dip.
A twirl.
The kiss. Which prompted the E-man to yell, "BLECH!"
Fancy footwork.
Another dip.
Finishing with flair.
OK, moving on. You’ll note that Moody Mom and I had a bit more trouble mastering our dance. By the end, we were laughing so hard it’s a wonder we didn’t trip over our children.
Note my focus and Tootie's skepticism.
This isn't too bad.
The E-man finally quit yelling, "Blech!"
Oh, look, somebody's child isn't behaving.
I wonder who he belongs to?
Here's the part where we all show "attitude."
Oops.
Something clearly went awry here.
Moody Mom and I cannot stop laughing.
Meanwhile, our children beg for mercy.
For more entertainment (and photos) drop by Moody Mom’s. Note she did not include any pictures of herself!
For more Wordless Wednesday posts from our other Little Rock Mamas, go here:
So last night we had a few people over and somehow the discussion turned to those calendars we women had scribbled on during our late teens and early 20s.
You know — the ones with cryptic phrases and code words and pictures that would remind us of what we did that day without actually spelling it out.
We were soon howling over a story in which one young woman’s boyfriend’s father found her calendar and very handily decoded the more, er … “important “dates. Talk about eternal humiliation!
Some of us (me) were so worried about such a revelation that we used code words and images that are now … well, rather bizarre and baffling.
I pulled out one of my college calendars and we spent a good 15 minutes laughing and puzzling over some of the drawings. On several dates, I had drawn an umbrella with raindrops. On others, I had drawn simpy raindrops. There were also varying sizes of exclamation points and asterisks.
At the time, I’m sure I thought I would never forget all of these “momentous” occasions. Now, however, I wonder what on earth I was doing on the night of Dec. 1 that warranted a picture of an umbrella! And raindrops.
So — are my two girlfriends and I the only ones who kept such calendars?
I’m thinking probably not.
But do you remember what your code words and drawings meant all these years later?
If you haven’t seen this video, go watch it now. Hilarious!!!
Summer is how many months away?!
I am sick of the rain. You?
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I’ve mentioned before my love for Zumba, an aerobics class based on Latin fusion and hip-hop. It’s fun, doesn’t feel like exercise and you get to wear pants with streamers and tassles on them. (Hubs calls them “butt pasties.”)
I got this pair for Christmas.
Problem is, once you put on this pants, you want to set those hips in motion. And mine are rapidly approaching the 40-year mark.
Ever since I got those pants, I’ve been gyrating like a maniac. Last night, I got a little carried away during a merengue and pulled a muscle in my lower back.
Even so, I just ordered a purple pair of pants from my instructor. I may incapacitate myself before my birthday, but I can’t wait to make those tassles twirl!
Today, our Little Rock Mamas bloggers are posting first-haircut photos. Some will reflect docile, accepting children. Others … well, not so much.
Tootie, my oldest, was among the docile. But the E-man …
The little guy didn’t get his first haircut until age 2. In fact, he was bald for so long that when he did start growing hair, I couldn’t imagine ever cutting it, especially when it started curling into ringlets.
My baby has hair!
At one point, however, I had to concede that my child had developed a mullet.
See? A little humidity and the curls went pppht.
So, reluctantly, I took the little man in for his first haircut. By the end, Hubs had to put down his camera and hold onto a thrashing E-man.
The prep
"I have serious doubts about this, Mommy."
The struggle begins.
"I will remember this and hold it against you."
For more Wordless Wednesday, go here:
Yet again, the Mighty Deer Hunter has exposed his wussiness *cough* vulnerability when it comes to ill children.
Shortly after getting home from my stepson’s graduation party (photos tk), Tootie collapsed on the couch and announced, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
I sprang into action.
“What are you doing?” Hubs inquired as I hurried her into the bathroom.
“Her tummy hurts,” I replied, hastily pulling Tootie’s hair back into a ponytail.
He gave me the I know better than you look. (You know the one, ladies. It’s the same expression your significant other wears when telling you that when the “Oil Change” light comes on, it’s time to change the oil. Duh. Like I won’t get around to it. In a few years. After the engine has burned up.)
Anyway.
Tootie decided maybe she didn’t need to throw up, so I tucked her into bed with a large cooking pot and a towel.
“I’m telling you she just needs to eat something,” Hubs insisted.
“She ate two cookies, two brownies, apple pie and ice cream at the party,” I snapped. “I think she’s probably quite full.”
The E-man entered the room, clearly unhappy that his sister was getting so much attention.
“Did she throw up?” the E-man asked, almost rather eagerly.
“No,” Hubs replied.
Which is precisely when Tootie began hurling into the cooking pot.
Hubs gagged, audibly, picked up the E-man and fled.
I rubbed our daughter’s back, emptied to pot outside and mopped the floor.
Hubs and the E-man cowered on the couch.
Hours later, while Hubs curled up in the E-man’s bed, I changed the sheets in our bedroom, started the washing machine, cleaned up Tootie and told the E-man that it’s really quite rude to declare, “Mommy, I would NEVER throw up in your bed!” while your sister dry heaves and sobs.
(It’s true, though. The E-man hasn’t ever thrown up in our bed. He’s limited himself to his bed, the couch, his sister’s bed and the living room floor.)
So we’re home today, the Tootie and I, bickering over the television. For some reason, she doesn’t find HGTV or TLC quite as interesting as I do.
Hubs, meanwhile, is at work, having adult conversations with adult friends. I’m not bitter though. Because when I fall ill with this stomach bug, he’ll be all on his own when the E-man starts throwing up everywhere BUT our bed.
I was craving chicken pot pie Saturday afternoon, and stumbled across this recipe from Pillsbury. It was really simple and really yummy. I’ll definitely be making this one again, especially on cold nights!
| Crust | |
| 1 | box Pillsbury® refrigerated pie crusts, softened as directed on box |
| Filling | |
| 1/3 | cup butter or margarine |
| 1/3 | cup chopped onion |
| 1/3 | cup all-purpose flour |
| 1/2 | teaspoon salt |
| 1/4 | teaspoon pepper |
| 1 3/4 | cups Progresso® chicken broth (from 32-oz carton) |
| 1/2 | cup milk |
| 2 1/2 | cups shredded cooked chicken or turkey |
| 2 | cups Green Giant® Valley Fresh Steamers™ frozen mixed vegetables, thawed NOTE: I got a bag of frozen peas and carrots. I don’t like the other stuff in my pot pies! |
| Heat oven to 425°F. Make pie crusts as directed on box for Two-Crust Pie using 9-inch glass pie pan. | |
| In 2-quart saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Add onion; cook 2 minutes, stirring frequently, until tender. Stir in flour, salt and pepper until well blended. Gradually stir in broth and milk, cooking and stirring until bubbly and thickened. | |
| Stir in chicken and mixed vegetables. Remove from heat. Spoon chicken mixture into crust-lined pan. Top with second crust; seal edge and flute. Cut slits in several places in top crust. | |
| . | Bake 30 to 40 minutes or until crust is golden brown. During last 15 to 20 minutes of baking, cover crust edge with strips of foil to prevent excessive browning. Let stand 5 minutes before serving. |
Did they eat it?
My husband and father-in-law loved it. Since I made it late in the evening — they were driving in from my stepson’s Coast Guard graduation — I fed the kids something else. But I’m betting they like this one too.
For more mouth-watering recipes, click the button below. It will take you to A Southern Fairytale, where you’ll find more delicious recipes!
Hubs and my father-in-law got back last night from New Jersey. Here are a few photos from their trip.
Ceremony
Ty and Hubs
Ty and sister CeCe
Ty and Papaw
Like a renegade... 