Remi and the Big Water.

What a day. This was my kind of day. At some point during the day one of us would say, "let's just stay a few more days, please?" Even the Attorney General - and he's pretty certain commerce stops when stands up from behind his desk.

We started out on the beach this morning. I may have walked more than I have in the last 8 months. Maybe not, but it felt like it.

Remi loves the "big water" - we can't understand much else, but that much we know. The big water and her? They're tight. She loves it and it loves her. Knocking her to her and feet and yet she keeps right at it.

I took a picture of a chicken walking by. Oh, wait, those are my mom's legs. Yikes.

We then grilled hamburgers and jumped in for a little more pool time (forgoing that whole "wait 30 minutes" sham). And last but not least, mom and I went for a spa massage and a pedicure. We had to have our massages done in the same room - because mom had never had a massage and was unsure how the whole thing worked, so she wanted me with her. Inevitably we begin to laugh and couldn't' stop. I'm not sure but considering we shared a room with candles and sitar music, considering we disrobed together and considering we snickered at everything that happened - I'm pretty sure they thought we were on our honeymoon.

After the massage we got our pedicures - but not even that was the best part. My pedicurist was named Rashida - you might want to remember her name and pray for her. Her heart is breaking (though you would never tell it by the beautiful smile she wore on her face) over a situation with her child. And who winds up in her seat?? Yours truly. And if anyone knows about a breaking heart...well, God knows what He's doing - let's just leave it at that. I told her I would be praying for her if that was okay and asked about her beliefs. She has been a Muslim for years and said she prayed five times a day right there in the very room I was in. I knew this was no time to tell her I would pray - this was time to put feet on it. So I did. I asked her permission to pray over her, explained why I believe in the laying on of hands on her - and together we prayed. I prayed to MY God. I prayed His power and strength, His peace and miracle working power. And afterwards I told her how wonderful He was. And how we could believe Him.

And she cried. And I cried, too.

And suddenly the greatest day got even better.

If you hold a shell up to your ears you can hear the Beach Boys.

Well, we're day 3 into our big vacationion (yep, I spelled that right if you watch King of Queens.) And we've done some really great things. Okay, I mean we've seen some really great things. Okay, I'm lying, we've eaten at some really great places. There I said it.

Actually mom and dad have taken little sister to the Nascar racetrack where they are all two (yes, I said "all two" - one of them is probably sniffing out a nearby shopping center) are driving their heads off at 110 mph. Where on this side of the island the Attorney General is snoring at 110 mph.

Taking a nap here is nothing like taking it at home. You open up the patio door here and see the beach, smell the beach, listen to the beach. You open it up to at home and well, let's just say my dogs often bring me little "gifts" and leave them at my door. "Gifts" that you see, "gifts" that you smell, "gifts" that you wish could live again and walk again . . . but I digress.

So here is what I woke up to this morning. Not bad work if you can get it, huh??

Of course, I personally like this view. And if your wondering where everyone is, well, so are we. But we are fiiiinnnnneeeee with it.

Actually I took these pictures at 8AM this morning. Yep, 8Am. It's our vacation and Remi still gets up early. What's up with that? Doesn't she know? So when I took these pictures only like 3 people were out walking and they were like, over 80.

Later we went to eat at Drunken Jack's. Little sister thought the name was cool - thus the reason for our stop. But everything was fried (and I think you know my thoughts on that...see Somethings Goin Down at the Marriott) so I feasted on some green beans. But sinfully gave in to 46 hushpuppies. Hush. Puppies.

My mom is a joy to have on this trip. At least housekeeping thinks she is. When they tried (which is their job, let's point that out) to change her sheets she told them "not to worry about it." When they tried to make her bed she told me, "Why? I'm just gonna crawl right back in it later, girlfriend." (Yes, I said girlfriend. Embarrassing). When they tried to take out the trash she took the bag from their cart and did it herself. Now, we find this all a bit amusing since when she wants a cappuccino each morning my dad brings it to her. And when she wants her hair fixed - it's yours truly to the rescue. When she needs to run down to the bookstore her son-in-law takes her. And yesterday when she tried to lift a finger little sister had to do it for her. Of course I am able to blog this because she is looking over my shoulder rolling her eyes and calling me a liar. "I do not do that Melissa - you do that." Now, that's not true. I never take the trash out. Ever.

Not sure what's on tap tonight (there's a nod to Drunken Jack's, matey). So stay tuned.

We're Painting This Town Red.

Well, we're here. And Myrtle Beach will never be the same.

We have been in this town since Saturday at 4PM.

We have eaten 22 times. Once, on the way to a rib restaurant we actually stopped and bought fudge. We then proceeded to eat the fudge while waiting to be seated at the restaurant. Someone step right up and tell me that's normal??

We went and bought groceries for the condo we are staying in has a fully equipped kitchen. We bought groceries for one week...$262. Somebody, please.

I will tell you that where we are staying is top-notch and beautiful. It really is, so stay tuned cuz I'm posting pictures, whether you want to see them or not.

Oh, and stay tuned for the Monkey Mat. Just stay tuned. Totally worth it.

Like Mother Like Daughter. And One Day Until.

Well, here's living proof that in the Nature vs. Nurture debate - Nurture wins, every time. She is her mother's daughter. All the way. And I couldn't be prouder. (And thank goodness it's me she takes after or you'd have caught her reading Fortune 500 or Billboard Magazine. yawn.)

Oh, and mom and dad, just so you know...I know her 2nd birthday is coming up but she has decided that instead of a tricycle or anything to climb on outside - she would prefer a subscription to People Magazine. Her words, not mine.

I'm Raising a Redneck Woman. Jeepers Peepers. And Two Days Until.

So I am now creating my posts every night before I go to bed so that the couple thousand who read my blog can enjoy it every morning over their hot coffee and Danish. Or bowl of chili (which is what I had this morning.) Which also means that by day's end I usually have more than enough to write about, vent about, you name it.

Today was no exception.
Let's see. Where do I begin?

Ah yes, my child is a heathen. Or as her Wednesday night teachers call her "a scrapper." And just so we're all on the same page, "scrapper" is another word for "bully." I go to pick her up from her Wednesday night class at church only to find that she's taken out 3 kids, spent some time in the "time-out" chair, knocked a boy over the head with her sippy cup, and well, I'm embarrassed so I'll stop here. I know what everyone is thinking so I'll go ahead and say it out loud. I figure people must think that "since the Radke's waited so long for this baby girl she is probably the most spoiled thing on the planet." But people, this not be so. Not even a little so.
We've done the stand in the corner thing. She picks her nose.
We've placed her in her bed, alone, as a time out spot. She sees no problem with this.
We carry spanking spoons in my purse, her diaper bag, the car, any jacket pocket that is empty and one sits on the middle coffee table at our home. She cries for 3 seconds and then asks me to turn on the "T.D."
I'm runnin' out of options people!
She's actually a good kid. A really smart kid. And full of personality. I see her as Jesus does and we both think she just has a certain, redneck charm.

So a friend of mine drives by my house today to leave a book for me in my mailbox. I went to get my mail around 7pm tonight and was surprised to see it in there. And as I'm thumbing through the book I can't help but think to myself, "I wonder what time Christine drove by today...hmmmm...wonder if she could see through my windows?"
Because if she could see through my windows, here is what she saw.

7am: Plopped down in front of the Today show.
9am: Can't find anything for breakfast so I eat last night's leftover chili. Spill half of it down my nightgown. Watch the Golden Girls.
9:30am: Chase Remi with spanking spoon. Part 1.
11:15am: Play chase with Remi around the kitchen table. Circle the kitchen table 14 times. Count it as today's exercise.
12:45pm: Tell Remi it's nap time. Chase Remi with spanking spoon. Part 2.
1:30pm: Pace back and forth while on the phone. With dad. With April. With Kelli. With David. With mom. With David again. Still in nightgown.
3:15pm: Finally have a moment to shower my dirty self.
3:18pm: Hear someone yelling "maaaaammmmmaaaa" at the top of their lungs. Walk back in front of windows, nightgown still glued to my dirty self.
4:00pm: Sit Remi in front of "Pooh" while I turn on the shower. "Yes, you will sit right there while I take a shower." Chase Remi with spanking spoon. Part 3.
4:45pm: Walk casually back and forth, back and forth, back and forth right in front of my windows...Remi is watching "Pooh," my flat-iron is heating up, make myself a tall glass of tea and all seems well with the world. Let's hope Christine is not putting book in mailbox at this moment. Cuz...yep...that'll make you put some clothes on.

Three Days Until.

I'm getting excited. Really excited.

This weekend David and I leave for the beach. And boy, do we deserve it. (I will not post the reasons why we deserve it as they are too painful, and don't make for very exciting print.) But we do. And we are going to savor all seven days of it.

And Remi. Sweet, little, fussy, stinker, now-taking-her-diaper-off-in-the-middle-of-the-night, Remi. She will be seeing the beach for the very first time. Oh yes, it will be too cold to step into (although the pool is heated. Praise Him). But she'll love the sand. And the sounds. And the "oooohhhhhh, mama, birds." (Feel free to fill in the blank with anything. Absolutely anything.)

And maybe we'll even take some of those pictures that apparently you are supposed to take if you are in your mid-thirties, have small children, and vote Republican; where we all wear white and sit in the sand or walk out into the water holding hands. Seriously, isn't it now mandatory to show your license, your voter registration card, and your family beach shot when you go to vote? Of course, the Attorney General has nixed this idea completely and says we'll have to drug him and prop him up, but hey, I've seen Weekend at Bernie's, so I know it can be done.

Oh, and the best part? Annette & Gene are coming! That's right, blog friends, my mom and dad are coming. So that right there should fill up every single post for the next three weeks. I figure I will have much to say and to report after 7 days in a condo with them. It's little sister's Spring Break week and this is what she wants to do - go away with all of us. So we gladly obliged. (Well, I gladly obliged; whereas, the AG has reported that he is still taking his Treo and laptop. I suppose this is in case the entire Christian Music Industry collapses during the one week he has decided to take off and he is called in to help restore it.)

So, I'll be heading in to town for those last minute necessities at ye ole' Target, of course. Still needing to pick up swim diapers, Bullfrog SPF 50 (for Rem, not me. I still fly in the face of that whole SPF conspiracy), and some kind of beach bag that is big enough to hold stone tablets yet allows me to look cool even when filled with a sippy cup, half a banana, a Glamour magazine and 14 gummy worms.

Did I mention the pool was heated? Wasn't sure. If not...the pool is heated.

The Last Time I Talked to My Mother...

Aahhhh...hang on blog readers. Hang on.

We are now embarking on a new chapter in the Stretch Marks blog

that I will be calling,

"The Last Time I Talked To My Mother."

From now on, when you see it pop up you have one of two options:

(1) Read it slowly letting it soak in.

(2) Or turn away - fast.

Although I will admit, it's kind of like an accident

that you can't help but look at.

So, here we go. This is from a conversation we had

on Sunday night at 6:15pm.

Me: Hey mom, whatchadoin?
Mom: I'm not doin' it.
Me: What does that even mean?
Mom: It means I'm not doin' it. I'm not doin' anything. What are you doin' and where's my baby?
Me: I'm on my way to church and...
Mom: Are you taking that baby to church again? She is probably so tired. Did she even get a nap?
Me: Yes, she got a nap. And then I took her for a walk.
Mom: Did you put a coat on her? You never even bother to put a coat on her.
Me: I didn't need to, it's 70 degrees outside.
Mom: No, it's not. It's storming. And cold.
Me: Mom - you live in Texas.
Mom: So why are you going up to the church so late at night?
Me: I have worship practice.
Mom: FOR WHAT? (she seems completely put out by this but I have no idea why.)
Me: For Wednesday night...but what does it matter?
Mom: Oh brother. So guess who I ran into yesterday?
Me: Who?
Mom: *Lydia Fair.
Me: Really?
Mom: And guess what she told me?
Me: What?
Mom: That ugly daughter of hers - *Misty Fair - she got married. The ugly one? Can you believe that?
Me: Really?
Mom: Yes! Yuck. I tell you what, gettin' a daughter that ugly married off will make a mother run a mile. You know that? Make you run a mile you're so happy.
.......long pause..........
Me: Mom, you know I'm gonna have to blog this.
Mom: That's fine. Just don't tell 'em who you're talking to.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the ugly.

My sentiments exactly.

"End of the line. Nothing to do, and no hope of things getting better.

Sounds like Saturday night at my house."

- Eeyore

"Ohly, Ohly, Ohly"

So yesterday mommy needed a little "mommy" time. Now normally when we use that phrase around our house it means, "I'm headed to the bathroom, keep the stealth in here with you." Because Lord knows you can blink your eyes and she's in the room with you. I don't, personally, know how she does it. She just appears. And you think - wow! - how did you get here so fast? I just locked you inside the closet!

So yesterday I needed a little "mommy time," but a different kind of "mommy time." I was in my bedroom listening to some worship music, which I do from time to time - being an avid lover of all things worship. And the stealth was happily watching Pooh, which she does 24/7 - being an avid lover of all things Pooh.

So as the worship continues so does my singing. And as my singing continues so does my worship. And so on, and so on. And before you know it, I was right there, in the Throne Room itself - eyes closed, hands raised and tears just a' streamin'. It was much needed and wonderful...or so I thought. However, what I saw next was really wonderful.

The stealth, the Remster, my sweet Remi, stood in my doorway. Eyes tightly closed. Arms extended up above her head. And as I suddenly stopped to listen I heard the most precious sound in the world, her little voice singing out with all she could muster . . ."Ohly, Ohly, Ohly."

And suddenly I realized why it is that God likes them even more than He likes us. And I, for one, wholeheartedly agreed.

But it wasn't until today, with the picture of her still stuck in my head, that I realized how God must feel about my worship. Does He truly look at me, eyes tightly closed, arms extended above my head, singing at the top of my little lungs, with the same adoration that I looked at her?
Yes, He does.
He told me so.
And if Him seeing me worship brings Him as much joy as me seeing my child worship - then it is the least I can do.
The very, very least.

"Ohly, Ohly, Ohly."
Would you sing with me?

Just Trust Me.

Please go to . . .http://www.shaunnamorgan.blogspot.com/

Now, scroll down to February 14th.

Just trust me on this.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

Kerri Day

So yesterday was a fun day. A special day. An I-wish-this-could-last-all-day kind of day. Because yesterday was "Kerri Day". And even though it wasn't "Melissa Day" I still (surprisingly) loved every minute of it.

Here is a recipe on just exactly how you can enjoy your own Kerri Day. *Please note: You will want to re-name it accrodingly in case you have no Kerri in your life. Although, if you have no Kerri in your life, you have been shortchanged altogether. Trust me.

Take the name of someone you love dearly. It can be anyone, your mom, your Sunday School teacher, your fifth grade piano teacher. Just make sure they are worth it! Certainly it works best if you take the name of one of your best friends, like I did.

Mix in 3 or 4 others to help you out. Find help from those who love the aforementioned person just as much as you do. Then their help is priceless, and well, you just end up having a really good time doing it. Certainly it works best if you get help from your best friends, like I did.

Now that you know whose "day" it will be - figure out what they love. Especially what they love to eat and plan the most extravagent lunch imaginable. Have their favorite appetizer, dish and side dish. Have their favorite drinks on the table (more than one to choose from, of course). And top it off with their favorite dessert! Throw in all things girlie and pretty and beautiful. We're talking candles, and flowers and fine china. Do it up right, now. And don't make that special someone lift a finger.
Note here: Remove all children, husbands, phones and email. Devote yourself entirely to those around your table. Especially your guest of honor. In fact, don't even look at the clock. Chances are the time will fly by - especially if you are with those you love.

Mix these things together and you already have the makings of a pretty good time. But here's the topper. Pay attention carefully...

Bring gifts. Becuase every girl wishes their birthday came more than one day a year. Bring something big or small. Expensive or cheap. Just as long as it reminds you of that special someone. Have them open it up (and be careful becuase tears or hysterical laughing could follow.)

And lastly, and this is the really cherry on the top, read them your card. And we're not talking a few lines in a Hallmark. Do it up right. Write them the kind of letter that let's them know how much their friendship really means to you. Leave nothing out. No stone unturned. Tell them you love them, appreciate them, tell them how special they are, and what a blessing their friendship really is.

Mix together with 3 or 4 of the best girlfriends God could have given you.... laugh for 2 (or 3 or 4) solid hours....dry your tears....clean up the kitchen....and ENJOY.

So that's it. That was "Kerri Day". And the really exciting thing is that next time could be "Kelli Day" or "April Day", "Rhonda Day" or even "Melissa Day". Who knows??? That's the exciting part. You never know when that pretty little invitation will wind in your mailbox inviting you to your very own special day. And as much fun it will be to your have your own special day, it might be just as much fun throwing it for someone. Espcailly if you really love them. Which we did...it was Kerri after all.

Our sweet Kerri.

Sensitive to all things, mender of all things, and lover of her friends.

Sweet Kerri.

The reason why I have my Steel Magnolias to this day. The reason why Remi has four "aunts" that she adores. The reason why the Attorney General gets at least one night a week home by himself, cause of those darn "girls" (kidding, even he loves them. And that's rare - ya know?) And the reason why TN feels like home.

Hmmmm.... I wonder whose "Day" it will be next time? I've got a feeling I know.

But that's all I'll say.

Stay tuned.

Shenanigans.

Well, it's Friday in the Radke house. Time to see what kind of shenanigans we can get into.
If you are an avid reader of this blog (and from what I hear there are like 12 of you) then you know Friday at the Radke's can get pretty darn crazy.

Like this morning for instance...my daughter had oatmeal for the first time.
Yep! You heard right. The first time. And she seems to like it. Well, actually the verdict is still out - you don't really know how much she likes anything until the second time you try to put it in her mouth. That's when you get the real answer. But considering the week we went to Nonie and Poppies it was like a continental breakfast for toddlers every single day; well, that's been kind of hard to compete with. At Nonie's she would start the morning with some homemade chocolate milk, followed up 30 minutes later with some gourmet "cheese toast" made with the finest cheese you can find in Lufkin (cut into quarters just for Remi). Then there was more milk - this time with strawberry syrup - to wash it down, some grapes as a side dish. And around 10 she would carry around a cup of Fruit Loops or gnaw on a Kellogg's Cereal Straw. Geez, I don't even have that much food in my pantry. How can I compete with that? So this morning we are on a detox program and are introducing good, hearty oatmeal. She seems unimpressed to be honest. Oh yes, this is going to be a wild Friday.

Next on the list - laundry. And just because it's Friday I might wash everything in cold. Ooohhh...it's gettin' K-razy in here.

David is in a bad mood because of one of our dogs.
I can't tell you what they did, but it has to be cleaned up and it's in the middle of our garage. I'll leave the rest to you.

We did rent a movie for tonight. Now, that's livin'.

I suspect I'll take a nap today since I didn't sleep well last night due to nightmares. I never have nightmares but something about last night's LOST freaked me out. I couldn't' stop thinking about it and ended up dreaming about all sorts of weird things. Kate, Aaron the baby, why Jack said that only EIGHT people survived...what in the world? So last night Locke kept trying to give me an I.V. at a local L.A. Weight Loss center. Not sure what that's about but if our dreams are any indication of God trying to tell us something - I'm in a whole heap of trouble.

Well, that's about all the goings on here at the Radke Ranch.
I figure my mom looked my blog up today (as she usually does) and read the part about Remi and then closed her computer. As long as I write about Remi first, I can pretty much write anything I want about mom down the page and she's never going to even see it. Which I figure is a good thing, because for all of you who have been reading this blog and sending me emails about it,
or stopping me in the halls at church about it,
or talk to me across the line at Publix about it,
or laugh at my expense when I drop my child off at school about it,
all of you are in for a literary revival when I began to write about Mom.
I mean this is the same woman who when I threw my hip out dancing at a wedding (for a later date) and was in tears actually looked at me and in her angriest voice whispered, "Well go into the bathroom and put it back in. "
Oh yes, and that's just scratchin' the surface.

Yep, many stories await. And if you don't believe me then read my comments. Because I am trusting that if you read today's blog and you can testify about the relationship I have with my mom that you will leave a post so those who are new to this will stick around.

So I'm signing off now. I've got some wild some oats I have to sow today. It's Friday. And so I figure I'll pack Remi in the car, roll down our windows, drive through Spring Hill and whistle at some construction workers.