True Story











{April 28, 2010}   Camp Letters Deuce

True Story:  As these nights get warmer and I have to shave my legs, I am taken back to my Camp days where I learned this dreaded task. 

Camp Letter #1

 Dear Mom,

Guess what! I went to the nurse yesterday! And I have poison ivy! Having a great time! Send me Meme’s address! Tell everyone hi!

Love ya!

I SCREAMED everything in my letters.

Camp Letter #2

July 22, 1986

Dear Mom,

The girls in my cabin are friendly! I love horseback. I had the best horse his name was Napoleon! Tennis was pretty fun too! Rechall is tonight I can’t wait! Last night we had courts, we played Nucome, we won 2 games and lost 2 games! Theirs a girl in my cabin named Niel, who is in class 2 gymnastics! Guess what my poison ivy is drying up! (thank goodness) Well tell everyone hi! Write soon! Love ya!

Camp Letter #3

Dear Mom,

As you probably know we have to write these! My poison ivy is really drying up now! Rec hall is tonight! We had our first cookout last night! I’m looking forward to seeing you in Florence!

I love you,

Camp Letter #4

 Dear Mom,

Blair says I haven’t written. I’ve written you three letters! I’m glad ya’ll had a good time at the lake wish I were their! I’ve used my beam a lot! I’m doing a lot of activities I had a lot of fun at Rec Hall and today I’m going to try out for talent night! (yeah!) I still have poison ivy! (Boo!) I skied today (on two) Tomorrow I’m going to ski on 1! In horseback I’m in DUDES-But in swimming I’m in basic rescue! I hope ya’ll have a wonderful time at Six Flags! I miss ya’ll! Tell everyone hi! And tell Blair I’m trying to write!

(Damit)

I love you,

My skilled use of there, their, & they’re had not peaked yet.

Camp Letter #5

Dear Mom,

I’ve written you everyday and you only gotten one letter, something must be wrong with mail. Blair and Laura make me jelus! I want some high top tennis shoes! I got Patrick & Sissy’s letter! Where am I going to practice diving? Tell Jim I hope he does well in the Golf turnament!

Love ya!

PS: Write soon. Tonight at Vespers we have to sing!

Did I really think the answers to my questions were going to be answered in a timely manner. Oh, to be back in the days where high top tennis shoes were a priority. Thank  you Lord for spell check today!

Camp Letter #6

Dear Mom,

I ment to write you yesterday but we had big inspection! today we switched CIT’s! Now we have Brooke instead of Meg! Last night we had Saturday night special! Half free courts and half rec hall! Tonight we have movie night, We’re seeing Hopscotch! Well! Got to go Bye!!

Having fun,

PS: I love you

Bye! Like someone was going to hollar it right back to me.

Camp Letter #7

Dear mom,

I’m having a great time! Tonight we have fifty’s night it’s going to be fun! Today we went to Salt Creek falls! We had fun I took a lot of pictures! Love ya! Got to go! Bye

Camp Letter #8

Dear mom,

I love the shoes. Today is August the 4th. We had to where read , white, and blue. It was also redneck day at arts and crafts. This week my elective is fishing. I didn’t catch any fish. Tonight is college night. Tomorrow I’m leaving. I’ll see you later! Love y’all!

(Signed) Awesome  (Healthy self-confidence, I had) – Actually referred to myself as awesome.

True Story: Napoleon was a short, squat horse you might have guessed. I got my high tops, you might have guessed.

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{April 27, 2010}   Perfection Personified

True Story:  Pump told me some years back that there was a time in his life, around 8th grade, where he actually thought he was flawless.

Let me repeat, FLAWLESS. He said the feeling lasted for about a year.

True Story:  I try to remind him everyday now that he is not.



{April 25, 2010}   Cheese

True Story:  It makes my life better.



{April 24, 2010}   Validate me!!! Pweeese!!!

True Story:  Children’s phases are one of the coolest things about motherhood. 

I really try to enjoy them. Cause when they’re gone, they’re gone. Remember Ricky & Louie? We don’t see them very much anymore.

Right now G Monkey needs me to validate everything he says. As I mentioned before, he spoke later in his development. He always understood everything we were saying and what everything was called. He could even speak the word if he wanted to. He just preferred to think about things, rather than talk about them.

True Story:  We are not sure who his real parents are.

I think it was Pump who conceived this child with me on my birthday camping trip a few years back…

It WAS dark out, though.

Neither Pump, nor myself, think very often or know how to be quiet. So, it was very shocking that we had a sweet, quiet, thoughtful child.

Well, it all comes to an end at some point, right?

Some time back after a weekend spent with his younger cousin, also known as G, who has talked like a politician since the womb, G Monkey began speaking more. I think after witnessing his cousin, he realized he could get more from us if he used words instead of pointing and whining.

It really was over-night like that. He just started talking. Now that he is, he really enjoys the validation he gets by correctly identifying something or using the correct phrase or endearment.

Example:

I pour a cup of coffee in the morning half asleep.

G Monkey:  MMMMMMM! Hot Coffee.

Me:  Yes…

He tugs on my PJs.

G Monkey:  MMMMMM!!!!! HOT COFFEE!

Me:  Yes, baby, Mommy’s hot coffee.

Okay, so now I have identified his subject matter, right?  It doesn’t stop there.

Now he will have to go through every phrase, or description he knows, that will let me know that he understands that I like my coffee.

Stay with me here… Examples: 

I try to sit down at my computer to check what happened in the world while I slept. Meanwhile, G Monkey yells these phrases to me. If I don’t pay enough attention, he will grab my face and yell into my eyes.

G Monkey:  MMMMMMMMMMM! Coffee, SOOOOOOOOO Good!

G Monkey:  MMMMMMMMM! Coffee is sooooooooo Tasty.

G Monkey:  MMMMMMMMMM! Yummy!

G Monkey:  MMMMMMM! MMMMMMMM! Excellent. (The MIL taught him that word)

This goes on and on… Until he runs out of descriptions. I just nod my head in agreement until he goes away.

The best is when he does these same phrases to the beer I am drinking at a restaurant.

True Story:  My two-year-old has had neither a sip of my beer nor my coffee. Ever.

Just thought I should point that out before you all give me the “mother of the year” award. 

The best though, is when he has an accident or does something wrong; or even sees an accident on TV. He will run up to me and go, “UH OH!”

Me:  Uh Oh.

He runs back to the scene of the crime… Then back to me.

G Monkey:  Whoopsie Daisy!

Runs back and forth again.

G Monkey:  What happened?!?!

Runs back and forth again.

G Monkey:  Sawwee, Mommy!

Me:  That’s okay Buddy…

And then it starts over again…

G Monkey:  Uh OH!



{April 22, 2010}   Earth Day

True Story:  I recycled yesterday’s underwear.



{April 21, 2010}   Dilemma???

True Story: It’s a toss-up.

What’s better for me???

1 menthol ciggy butt after dinner?

or 1 bowl of chocolate mint ice cream after dinner?

I’ll take any & all advice.

True Story:  It’s an ULTRA LIGHT…



{April 17, 2010}   Labeling & Reminding

True Story:  I am a great Reminder. Just ask my husband.

I will leave the vacuum in the middle of a room for a week to remind me to vacuum that particular room.

I will tell Pump twice, email, text and phone call for good measure to remind him to do something. If he would get back on Facebook I would write it on his wall so all his “friends” could remind him too.

I’m a good labeler as well. I will scribble a  note “Dirty” on the counter above the dishwasher so I don’t drink out of a crusty cup. I can’t remember if the dishes are clean or dirty due to mass quantities of wine, lack of sleep, brain overload, from “hold me pweese Mommy”, Facebook, real estate calls, emails, texts, blogs, “Can we have sex”, and other daily disturbances.

I HAVE to label medicine, especially generic prescription creams & ointments, or I might, in the middle of the night, put the Retin A on the wrong part. And that sounds like a BIG mistake.

True Side Note: My Dermatologist has 5 kids and baby soft skin. He told me I could buy Retin A over-the-counter in Mexico for $20. Girls trip???

I am looking for different revenue streams if anyone needs me to be a human daily reminder. Just comment your husband’s cell phone number below. $20 a pop. Think of the tubes of Retin A I could buy.



{April 14, 2010}   Me and Cousin Eddie

True Story:  I’ve worn a Dickie. As in a Dickie Turtleneck… Yep.

My Mom gave us everything we needed, but not everything we wanted. Which, I suppose is what most of us try to do.

Whatever brand everyone was wearing, she would buy us the off-brand. I suppose I am thankful for this today, as I am currently not materialistic or a clothes-hound. If win the Lotto tomorrow we’ll re-evaluate that statement

However, this could be a little embarrassing during the teenage years when having everything your friends did,was like the most important thing in the WORLD, you know? Ye-ah… Like, ev-ah…

I don’t know if you remember, but somewhere around 1987, leather bomber jackets were in style. At least in small town Alabama, they were.

All my friends had one and I wanted one too. Mom took me to Wal-Mart to look at some pleather bullshit. I was like, “Mom, it has to be a REAL leather jacket, GOSH”!

Mom:  I’m not paying $200 for a leather jacket.

True Story:  One of my Mom’s famous lines is, “I’m not buying you another stitch’!

I’ve heard it like 5 trillion times. Never gets old, hmm.

So, after begging for a leather jacket for what I think is a reasonable amount of time (6 months), I am expecting to get one for Christmas. I am just sure of it!

I am also picking up on little hints from My mom in the weeks leading up to Christmas that Santa might be skinning a cow at that time. (My intuition was not very strong then).

True Story:  I like surprises… Good ones.

True Side Note:  I hate surprise drop-in visits. Do you?

I’m always naked or … naked. Call first people.

The reason I bring up surprises is I really like to open any and all gifts that are given to me WITHOUT knowing what is inside of them prior to the opening.

I like everyone to be real quiet, and watch me open my gift. I’m very good at being the guest of honor at my own baby shower or birthday party.

Well, this particular Christmas Season, I let a friend convince me that it was cool to open your gifts late at night while your parents were sleeping, see what you were getting, then wrap them back just as they were. She was REALLY good at it. Me? Not so much. Not too crafty.

So, one night, about a week before Christmas, circa. 1987, my friends, A & P, were spending the night. I told them how this girl had taught me how to open the gifts up. The 3 of us decided we should check out my goodies.

We picked out the large “clothing” box that HAD to be my leather jacket. It was the only one that fit the bill.

We gingerly peel the tape back and slide the paper off. I start to get excited and look around to make sure no adult is coming.

How will I disguise my knowing excitement Christmas morning when I already know what’s coming??? OOHHH!

We lift the white lid off the box…

A gorgeous, worn, brown leather KICK ASS bomber jacket…

No. 12 stacked Dickies in a multitude of colors and a black paten, leather clock purse.

True Story:  Curiosity embarrassed the S _ _ T out of the stupid cat.



{April 11, 2010}   Whine (Wine)!

True Story:  I never knew my son knew what a beer was.

When you have a child that talked a little later in developement, you forget what sponges they are. He picks up my beer the other day and says, “Mommy’s beer”.

Me:  That’s right. That’s Mommy’s beer.

I’m thinking I never told him what a beer was….

Oh yeah. I guess he must have heard it a thousand times.

Me:  Pump, would you grab me a beer.

Me:  Hey Pump, how bout a beer?

Me:  Pump, you want a beer?

Me:  Pump, Momma’s thirsty.

Pump:  Is it beer thirty?

Pump:  Want to crush a couple beers?

Pump:  I’m thinking about sizzlin a few beers.

Makes since now.

So the other evening we are attending an art show, Myself, Pump, & G Monkey.

They have complimentary wine and snacks. Pump and I are both enjoying a cup of white wine. G Monkey is running around eating chips and what not. He see’s my cup and stops suddenly.

G Monkey:  WINE!!!!

Me:  Shh. Yes, baby, that’s Mommy’s wine.

G Monkey:  WINE!!!

Me:  Wine is for Mommy’s & Daddy’s and grown people. You want some water?

G Monkey:  I want wine!

Me:  You can’t have wine. You can have water.

He reaches for my cup.

G Monkey:  Mines wine!

At this point it is starting to get loud. People are trying to have intellectual, artful conversations, probably wondering why a 2-year-old is there in the 1st place, and why he knows what wine is. I am starting to feel the eyes of “how is she going to handle this” on me.

What would you do?

I chose to take his cup of water & add a splash of the lovely green tea they were serving, hand it to my kid and say, “Here you go. Wine”.

He danced off doing the hot diggity dog dance.

True Story:  We don’t get handbooks… Oh wait, I think there are some parenting handbooks lying around here somewhere???



{April 8, 2010}   Skinny Bitches

True Story:  Some skinny girls have been known to make people sick.

No lie. I’m not being ugly. This is serious business. My sister L, has some sort of medical, anatomy phobia.

She doesn’t like anybody to talk about veins ( V Words), or organs, or illnesses, or anything of this nature. If an ambulance passes by, she gets a little queasy.

Me on the other hand, I actually think I’m a doctor. Seriously. I’ve had zero medical training, other than being a lifeguard and a mother, but I really feel like I have a grasp on the subject.

If I’ve been drinking and you have a health problem… You better watch out… I’m not afraid to just come on out with a diagnoses.

So, L and I, years ago, were attending  an Alabama football game. We were sitting on the edge of the student section, which is basically a 3rd world country, i.e. starving, poor sick kids yelling, shouting, and holding their hands out.

So, we’re watching the game, enjoying ourselves…  All of the sudden, I look at my sister and she is rocking back and forth in her “Safety Position” holding her wrists together.

Me:  What are you doing?

L:  Uh, uh…

Me:  What’s wrong?!?

She just points to her right.

I look over and finally see what she’s talking about.

There is a young lady thinner than I’ve ever see in my LIFE.

Now I’m no virgin. I’ve seen all kinds in my day. But this girl was SKINNY. I could have snapped her little legs in two like a toothpick.  I thought she was going to shatter right there in the stands.

Every time her date, and I use the term date loosely at an SEC football game, would put his arm around her, I would instinctively raise up off the bench and go, “No..No… be careful. You might break her”.

I mean no disrespect whats so ever. I know that anorexia is a disease. I suffer from many many addictive, mental, and bodily diseases… I get that.

I’m just trying to paint a picture here.

So I say to L:  Yep, she’s skinny. I hear ya.  It’s pretty gross.

L:  (still rocking back & forth, holding her wrists together, and crying a little)  Her V words are sticking out all over the place… And her B words.

That would be Veins & Bones for you lay people.

True Story:  Young ladies, before you hit that diet, or “gateway” method, know this… Fat people are happy too. See it all the time. I’m just saying…



et cetera