"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.

Today's post is no fun, no fun at all. Nothing to laugh at. Nothing to scoff at. Your eyes won't roll at my misfortune. And you won't snicker at the satisfaction you feel that I got myself into another "predicament." No, today's post is of a more serious nature.

Today I found myself horribly unfaithful and once again, as usual, God was incredibly faithful.
Why is that?

Why must I always be human? And why must He always be divine?
Why must I always trip? Why must He always catch?
Why must I always screw-up? Why must He always perfect?
Why must I always be asking forgiveness? Why must He always be granting it?

No banks were robbed today. No one was killed or ran down in a moment of road-rage. No one suffered a heartbreak at my careless run-off at the tongue (though that is probably a shocker to many.) My marriage is intact. And my relationship with Him is solid.

But I failed. Nonetheless, I failed. And I felt it. And it hurts.

And so today I went into that posture we learned as a child but somehow put away as an adult. And I bowed.
As one who is broken to one who is Holy. I bowed.
And I cried. And begged forgiveness.
And He smiled and granted it, unlimited.
Thankfully His forgiveness is not dependent on my faithfulness.

I sent out an invitation to a friend of mine today for a special surprise engagement - in her honor. At the bottom of the card I wrote the words, "Bring nothing. Expect everything."

Bring nothing. Expect everything.

And that's exactly what I did today. Brought Him nothing. Walked away with everything.
Brought brokeness. Received blessing.
Brought unfaithfulness. Received Mercy.
Brought shame. Received Glory.
Brought embarrassment. Received the "lifter of my head."
Brought humiliation. Received grace. Precious grace.

Bring nothing.
Expect everything.

Amen.

I'm a white-bread girl in a wheat-bread world.

Thank you to my friends who emailed me your diagnosis of my IBS problem. If I took into account all I have read and heard today from various ones of you - I will have no more fun in my life, ever.

- I need to cut out all dairy.
- Become gluten free.
- Carry around Beano.
- Go in for a colon cleanse.
- Try a 30 day "bran" challenge.
- One of you suggested I just stay home altogether and order in.
- And of course, the most profound advice came from the AG himself, in which he told me to just "lay on my left side." Classy.

But I'm pretty sure I found out the problem. Fried foods are not my friend. Of course, one look at my thighs and you'll see that they never have been. I'm just now catching on, though. So fried foods are out! (Oh, no, maybe I should stick with my doctor. He's pretty much been saying that exact thing to me for the last 7 1/2 years.)

- So, I'm sticking with my cheese.
- I'm hanging on to my Texas Toast for dear life.
- I ALREADY DO carry around Beano.
- Instead of the Colon Cleanse I'm going in for a facial.
- I don't like bran and it don't like me.
- And I'm not going to confine myself to the inside of my house.
- And I've tried that "lay on the left side" thing and suprisingly, it works.

Here are a few other things I'm not giving up...
- Watching the Today show every morning while drinking out of my Today Show coffee cup!
- Watching reruns of Friends as if it were still on primetime.
- Making my own homemade croutons.
- Sitting at round tables when I am out with my best friends. (That would be Kelli, April, Rhonda and Kerri.)
- Scheduling my vacation during the week of VBS every year. (That would be "smart thinking").
- Sneaking People magazine into the grocery cart every week.
- Wanting to spend every free moment with the AG.
- My Assemblies of God "lifetime member" badge.
- Knowing every word to my Kenny and Dolly Christmas CD.

Ah well, it's a short list. But I'm tired.

Somethin' Bad's Goin' Down at the Marriott

Yep, here we are again. If you are unsure what I'm referring to check back to the post about Chang's. You'll catch on.
At this point you may be asking yourself why I have to go to the bathroom at all hours of the day, all places around town, all the time. I don't know. I just know it happens. I am getting older and my back is holding up. My knees seem to be steady. I don't see tons of wrinkles just yet. So my lot in life seems to be a case of Irritable Bowel. And yes, I have been to the doctor and have asked him - point blank - to diagnose me with this, but he refuses. He says I eat crap. (Note to self: Find better doctor.)

So Saturday night the Attorney General and I go out. He lets me pick the movie, I let him pick the resteraunt. Though I will state for the record, if I pick a movie he doesn't like he still goes. If he picks a resteraunt I don't like I make a really bad face, and then turn and look out the window and hum. He knows what that means...by his fifth suggestion I am usually in agreement.
So on Saturday night we go to a new place, a cool place, a cozy, tucked away little place. We order an appetizer - it's fried. Then I order my dinner - it's fried. My side item is even (you guessed it) - fried. Hey! I ordered water. Get off my back.

We had not soon left the parking lot that I had him make an immediate left turn.
AG: Into the Marriott?
Me: Yes, into the Marriott?
AG: (Mishchevious giggle and smirk) Did you get us a room?
Me: Would you stop it? I'm already sick.
AG: Hey....
Me: Seriously babe, turn in and just keep driving. I'm going to throw open my door and hurl myself out at the first door I see. Don't even bother to stop.
AG: Are you...
And I do, in fact, hurl my door open and run to the nearest opening.

I'm thinking to myself "Dear Lord in heaven, please help me find the nearest bathroom" and suddenly I see it.
Follow up prayer, "Sweet Lord, I have served you faithfully. Please don't let there be a single soul in that bathroom. For my good peace of mind and for their own."
I go in.
Obviously I have not served as faithfully as I should have.

For what do my eyes behold? But a pagent competition for 3yr olds through high school. And where were they all getting ready? You guessed it.

After making my way through the fog of Rave Hairspray and Teen Spirit deodarant (aerosol of course...these girls obviosuly do not stand on the platform of "going green") I find...guessed it right again, stall #3. Now this momentous occasion was not fraught with the comings and goings, like at Chang's. No, no, this occasion was met with 25 girls and their stage-moms locked down in the bathroom and they weren't going anywhere until the glitter was on and the sash in place.

"Dear God, just take me now" (I whispered this. But He couldn't hear me due to the 8 year old practicing "How Great Thou Art" at the top of her lungs.)

And so to make my long and painful story short, here is what I overheard as I sat, miserably, terrifyingly, painfully alone. In stall #3.

"Sasha, if you don't hold still these will fall out of place."

"Mom, will my arms look like yours when I'm older?"
"I hope not."
"Me too. You know something can be done about those nowadays."

"Do ya'll smell that?"

"Are you wearing fake eyelashes?"
"I don't know....mom, am I wearing fake eyelashes?"
"Yes, of course you are. Becasue your only 9 and you don't have fully developed eyelashes yet."

"What is that smell mom? I think I'm going to throw up on my baton."
"I don't know, it smells like your daddy in here all of a sudden."

Again, I pray, "For the Love of God and all that is Holy, please blow your trumpet now and let's end this thing."

"Mom, it isn't high enough. It isn't high enough. It isn't high enough."
"Here, I'll try and put it up one more time."
"Mom, it's too high."

"Has anybody seen my left boot?"
"Your left boob?"
"That too." (Hilarity ensues...for like, 8 minutes.)

David texts me..."Are you okay? I just saw three little girls come outside the building crying. Is there a talent competition in there? Are you making little kids cry?"

"Ya'll, Cami can't find her mom."
"That might be her in the last stall down there...are you Cami's mom?" (They yell at me. I HATE talking when I'm in the stall.)
"No, I'm not Cami's mom."
(They whisper) "I think that's Mary Taylor's grandma, look at her shoes."

Okay, sick or not. I'm outta here. As I go to flush I hear, "...how great thou art, how great thou art." I walk out and wash my hands. They all stare at me. I tell the singer she sounds good.
"Really?" She says
"Yes" I say, proud that she is kind and respectful. And hoping she wins.

And as the door goes to shut behind me, if I'm lyin' I'm dyin', that same sweet child says,
"What does she know? Somebody light a match."
Hilarity ensues.

Am I Allowed to Post Pictures Like This??

So, here's what happens when you spend a Friday night with the Radke's.

First of all - we have fun. Don't believe me? We do! We're all about the wild Friday night.

We're young.

We're hip.

We're cool.

Actually, we're over thirty. I once threw out my hip. And we're constantly fighting over the thermometer. But I digress...

So this Friday night we did the whole "baby exchange" thang, and we kept Gracie May (May is not really her name - I tend to create names for kiddos I love) while some of our very best friends, Wes and April, went out for their Valentines date. Then Saturday night they kept Remi Lou for us while we went out. (To a wonderful place to eat by the way, which shall remain nameless as to not get it overcrowded.) But again, I digresss...

So what in world do I do with a seven year old on a Friday night? Tons.

I'm cool Aunt Melissa after all. I'm the one Victoria, Olivia, Taylor, Molly and Gracie will all want to spend the night with when their moms - Kerri, Rhonda, Kellie and April - make them mad and "just don't understand them."

I'm the one they'll come to when their face is breaking out and their moms are too cheap to buy them any ProActive.

I'm the one who will see them sneaking off behind the bleachers to steal their first kiss and start screaming hysterically until they die of embarrassment on the spot.

Ah yes, these are gonna be some fun years.

Darn, again, I digress...

So what does cool aunt Melissa do? She let's Gracie make cupcakes. The confetti ones, with the sprinkles and cheapy buttercream icing. Oh yeah. Good times. Good times between me and my little Gracie May. Just her and her cooooooool aunt Melissa. Just us. Until...

Remi.

Enter little jealous Remi.

And poor unsuspecting Gracie.

'Nuff said.

When Gracie eventually decided that wearing pants around Remi would not be possible we all decided to have a dance party and go pantless.....uh, well, not all of us. I'm not that cool.

So, what are you doing next Friday night? Wanna come over?

Pants optional.

L.O. L.O. L.O. L.O.V.E.

Well, it's Valentine's Day. So here's a tribute to all the things that make this "Day of Love" even more special to me.

1. David, I love you because...you are the best man I've ever known. And you always smell wonderful.

2. Remi, I love you because...you are everything I never knew I always wanted. And more.

3. Girls, I love you because...you are everything in Tennessee that I thought I had left back in Texas. Family.

4. Mom, I love you because...you're you. And someday I will write a book about you and me and our relationship and I will become a zillionaire because no one, I repeat, no one, has a mother quite like you. Thank you for being honest enough to tell me in 8th grade that I shouldn't try out for cheerleader becuase I couldn't get off the ground when I tried to jump.

5. Dad, I love you because...you have created the most warm, loving, hilarious, giving, faithful, loyal, comfortable home in the whole world. I love being there. And because you once said you will pay for my dinner until I am no longer your baby and you are no longer my dad. (Considering how much I can put away, I bet you wish you could rephrase that, huh?)

6. Mallory, I love you because...you are the best baby sitter I have ever seen in my life. And because Remi adores you. And because you are a really, really, really GOOD girl.

7. Great American Cookie Co., I love you because...if I were to make a "dinky doozie" at home people would just think I was sick and needed to seek professional help. But if I go to your store and buy one, then I am just as normal as, say, Kelli Hankins. Not to mention your cookie cakes have provided endless hours of some of the best "girl talk" known to man.

8. Golden Girls, I love you because...you have known me longer than any friend I have. And you still love me. Through acne, the New Kids on the Block, Shawn Penn and Honda Preludes, you loved me. And I love ya'll.

9. Paula Deen, I love you because...anyone that makes a dish with 3 pounds of butter and 2 cups of mayo should be able to stick their own finger in it and lick it. Thank you for making the very thing I always got in trouble for when I was growing up, popular. And for putting it on TV.

10. To all the good books out there, I love you because...you are my favorite pastime. I buy you whenever I have a spare dime and still it's not enough.

11. To Hairstyle Magazine, I love you becuase...you provide me with endless hours of enjoyment. When I buy you I look at you over and over and over again. I think of different things to do with my hair but cut out pictures and alert my friends as to what they should do with their hair. This has proven to make me quite unpopular. But if people would listen to me the world would be a better place.

12. J.J. Abrams, I love you because...three years ago when I first saw a commercial for your new show I told my husband about it and he just laughed and said "just how far can they go with people who have crashed onto an island." Who's laughing now? I don't know what you're up to, but I'm in it for the long haul. Like my dad once said, "I don't know where we are, but we're making great time."

13. Chik-fil-A, I love you because...your breasts are white and crumbly and moist. Uh...this is awkward. I just love you, okay?

14. Chip, I love you because...you let me sing solos all the time. Even though I drive you nuts and you wish you could throw me overboard half the time. But you understand that apart from singing I really can't do a whole lot. I'm not organized or patient. I'm not good with kids or the elderly. I'm partially colorblind so I can't decorate. And nothing I bake every stands up. I forget everyone's birthday and I'm late on almost every homework assignment I ever turn in to school. But I can sing. And I love it. I adore it. And when I do it I feel the most proud of anything I ever do. So thank you for continuing to hand me the mic.

15. Las Palmas, I love you because...your chimichangas are to die for. And sometimes I "accidentally" forget to say "chimichange 1" which means that you automatically bring me "chimichanga 2". TWO chimichangas!! And then I just look at David like "uh oh, they messed up my order and gave me too much." But I think he's figured us out.

16. Winnie the Pooh, I love you because...I watch you all the time and and I love how sweet you are and how all of your friends are sweet. And how Remi's eyes light up when she sees you. And how for the one hour that you are on our TV the worst language we have to worry about is "Oh, bother." And she learns how to share and care and give and help. And I wish that everyone was as sweet in this world as you all are. And that Remi didn't ever have to learn any difference.

17. Three's Company, I love you becase...whenever I watch you on TVLand I still laugh like I was 13 all over again. I love, love, love you.

18. Costco, I love you because...you are the most wonderful waste of money and time that I have ever found. I never go into town without visiting you and I never regret it. You have provided me with everything from dvd players to Christmas gifts to shrimp. And everything in between.

19. Round tables, I love you because...you are ingenius. And no one ever feels left out.

20. Big Sexy Hair, I love you becasue...until you came along no one had the audacity to name something exactly what they desired. I deisre Big Sexy Hair so I buy you. I would also buy anything named Skinny Tanned Butt or Sexy Chocolate Love if I was so inclined. Ya know what? There probably is something named Sexy Chocolate Love so personally I think we should move on...

Well, there you have it.

20 Persons / Places / Things I am kicking my shout's out to on this Valentine's Day.

So what do you love?

Dear Daughtry, you get me. You really get me.

Well, I'm goin' home...to the place where I belong...
And it only took me 14 hours and 17 dirty bathroom stops to do it.

Isn't that how the song goes?
Well, it's how my song goes.
But I'm home nonetheless, and happy happy happy to be here.

Yes, yesterday we set out on our journey towards home. A 12 hour trip from Charleston Lane all the way to the backwoods of Texas. With a baby. I reapeat, with a baby.
So how did it go, you ask? "Remarkably well", I answer.
Remi did really well. Oh sure, there were a few glitches along the way. Remi prefers to listen to Elmo sing his hits, while her daddy tends to favor some old school 80's rap. But after we settled that dispute - Mommy wins, Celine Dion it is! - we were fine.

Then of course there was the "But it's getting late and I'm about to fall asleep behind the wheel" debacle. But I assured the Attorney General of two things.
#1. I was not driving. It was getting late and well, I just didn't want to.
And #2, that he would not fall asleep behind the wheel because I was putting in a movie that was sure to keep him on his toes. Enter "Sense and Sensability".
Let's just say that didn't go over so well. Man, he is sooooo bossy.

We only stopped twice along the way. Can you believe it? Once around dinnertime at a Chik-fil-A so the little one could run her pretty little legs off. It worked. And then again around 9 so mom could get an Icee, Dad could get some coffee so he wouldn't "fall asleep behind the wheel" (buck up you lightweight!) and Remi could, yep, you guessed it, run her little legs off. Worked again. She worked that store like it was the day after Thanksgiving. I picked up three bags of Cheetos, 2 stuffed animals, 14 straws, 2 shot glasses, 8 pair of sunglasses, and a cassette of The Best of Eddie Rabbit in her wake. I don't think anyone has ever stayed for 40 minutes at a truck stop - but we did! And once she was back in her seat she slept like a baby.

And now, whoo, we're home. And happy to be here.

We don't sleep good in the guest bedroom becuase obviously when they made that model they were basing it off of the length of dwarfs.

And it's not that fun to use the bathroom becuase they only believe in Scott tissue - which I find removes the 1st and 2nd layer of your skin.

There's nothing to drink, ever, becuse their water taste like french fries.

And they seem to live near some "black hole" because 9 out of 10 times they're internet is down and their phones don't work. (The AG believes there is some poor mouse somehwere running in a wheel just to keep their internet connection up.)

But all that being said............man, I love coming home.

Oh, I gotta run. I just overheard my mom say, "Gene, Remi loves this stuff. She's drank over half the cup." She's holding a Starbucks in her hand. Heaven help us.

Everyone Just Remain Calm!

Look, there's no reason to fear. The Attorney General didn't remove my last post becuse he is mean. Although he is. And he didn't remove it becuase he's bossy. Although I think we would all agree, he totally is. He removed it becuase I wrote something bad about my cat and he knew I would regret it later. So I told him he could remove it.

AG: You don't want your cat to die.
Me: Yes, I do.
AG: No you don't. You will regret saying that tomorrow, but it will be out there and the world will know it.
Me: Know what?
AG: That you want your cat to die.
Me: Well, I do.
AG: No, you don't.
Me: Well I don't want her to live.
AG: Yes, you do. Quit saying that. You've just had a bad day with her.
Me: I know, but...(begins to cry)
AG: See? I knew this would happen. I'm deleting it before anyone reads it.
Me: But she's miserable and she has anxiety issues.
AG: Well you have anxiety issues but I don't want you to die. And if I did I wouldn't post it on a blog. Well, at least not this kind of blog...

Of course he also read where he had done something wrong and I was mad at him for it, and he didn't seem just thrilled with that little tidbit getting leaked to the masses. So the previous post was deleted. I am feeling better and we can all just forget what I posted about my cat. I am sure there are those in my personal life who would like to post stuff about my cat, but I would ask that they refrain. You know who you are.
Enough of that.

Here is what I am listening to right now, it's hysterical.
(We are looking at the weather lady pointing to the weather map)
AG: Okay, do you see her thumb? Where her thumb is? Now look right above her thumb to her long finger...
Me: You mean her pointing finger?
AG: Whatever. Just look right about it and in between it. In between her thumb and her pointy finger and then look a little bit up almost to her..
Me: To her what?
AG: (laughing) to her dirty finger. Just look right in between her dirty finger and her thumb.
Me: Okay, I am looking in between her thumb, just above her pointy finger and her dirty finger. What am I looking at?
AG: (laughing) I don't even remember.

Obviosuly we are getting some pretty severe storms tonight. I know this becuase her "dirty" finger is pointing to it. Well, that's proof enough for me.

Letter from the Editor.

The last post was removed by The Attorney General.

All our love...Melissa, David and Remi

So I wrote a letter today. Actually at 1:00 this morning. In fact, I started it at 1 and finished it about 1:45 or 2:00. Why in the world would I sit up just to write a letter? Well, it was an important one.

Once a year I try to send a letter to a precious friend. I try to tell her what all has happened in our home in the past year. I tell her about the weather and the trees, our new house and how our families are doing. Then I get to the really important stuff.

I tell her how Remi is walking, fast and all over the place. I tell her how she goes to Mother's Day Out now and she loves it so much that she doesn't even tell me "bye." I tell her how I counted the word "mama" coming out of Remi's mouth a total of 28 times on the ride home from church the other night. I tell her how Remi's first birthday party went and what all we have planned for her big 2 year coming up! I told her how we are taking her to the beach for the first time in March and how she is so excited and doesn't even understand why. I tell her how she loves to kiss me and crawl up in my lap. How she is addicted to Winnie the Pooh and that becuase of her Daddy, 5:45pm is her favorite time of day. I tell her how she's learning to whisper but can only laugh really loudly - which I could listen to all day.

I send her pictures of Remi eating her birthday cake. Of Remi dressed up as a chick for Halloween and with her tiara on at Christmas. I send pictures of Remi playing outside, of Remi on her little ATV and of Remi with the dogs. I make sure the pictures are perfect. I send so many. Maybe too many.

And then, becuase I love her, I remind her that we pray for her. Every day. And that Remi hears us. And someday soon when she learns to pray outloud she will say what Mommy and Daddy say, and so she will be praying for her as well. I tell her if she ever needs us to call us, and yet I know in my heart she never will. And I tell her to send us a letter and that if she does I will read it, to Remi, forever.

And then I thank her. Because the little girl I write about, and get to snap pictures of and get to hold on to came from her. And I remind her of this fact: of all the things we have to worry about in this lifetime that sweet child being loved, truly loved, is not one of them. I reassure her of our love for Remi. It is always. And forever.

And I thank her, one more time. My precious friend.

You there. Yes, you. This is God. Leave a post.

I hope this doesn't sound too needy, but...
I'm desperate.
I'm in need.
I'm in a bad way.

Here's our current status:
I have a precious gift from Heaven who has decided that the "potty", the beutiful-plastic-shiny-white-talking-tells you when you're done-potty chair is now something she'd like to try. She goes into the bathroom and drags it into the living room. She points at it, laughs when we talk about it, and likes to show it to our neighbors when they drop by. She also likes to tell you when she has to "go", take your hand and tell you "c'mon" and proceed to drag you to the potty.
Great start, right?
There's more.
I then remove her diaper, proceed to contort my body into a series of shouts, cheers and jumps (she probaby doesn't pee becasue she's scared half to death), promise her CANDY and wait. She sits on the potty, pretends to grunt (because daddy told her that's how you do it) and then gets up and leaves the room.
Bottomless.

Beautiful-plastic-shiny-white-talking-tells you when you're done-potty chair? Empty.

What now??

We seemed to have a breakthrough last night. She did tee-tee in it. And cheers could be heard for miles. She also got 2 malted milk balls, which could not have made her happier. But now what??

I have scoured the internet on advice for this topic and it seems edveryone has their own story, their own system, their own method. So I say the best place to look is in your own backyard.

So here's how this is gonna go down:
Even if you have never left me a post before. I am asking you nicely, heck, I'm beggin you. Please leave one. Tell me what advice you have. Help a sister out, huh? Whatever ya'll suggest, hey, I'll try anything once. So shoot. Whatever it is. Shoot it at me. Becuse this trapsing to the potty thing...well, we've been doing this for a while now. A loooong while.

But here are the rules:
1. No condemning me for starting early. No, "Melissa, don't push her, she's not even two yet." Hey! She's dragging me to the potty, not the other way around. I'm just going with the flow. (No pun intended.)
2. No using the phrase, "Melissa, you should know better than that." I don't personally know how or why this phrase would ever be used, but I've heard it a lot over my 30+ years and well, let's just say, I hate it.
3. No making other mothers (this includes me) feel stupid. No leaving a post with "I don't know what Mom in Tulsa is thinking but she's whacked."

and last but not least...

4. If you come to my home and see a big stain on my pretty white carpet and I say, "Oh, we just spilt some _______ (taco sauce, guacomole, ice cream, root beer, etc.)" Just go with it, okay? And don't make eye contact with Remi. When we point to that spot she tends to grunt.

Dead Man Coughin'

Well, The Attorney General has the flu. And yet I'm the one you need to pray for. Anyone know what it's like when The Attorney General is sick? Well, let's put it this way. I don't call him the Attorney General for nothin'. Okay?

When he coughs he throws his whole body into it. Like he's trying to hurl something across a football field. I get exhausted just watching him.

When he sneezes he convulses forward like he's just slammed on the brakes. It gives me a headache.

When it's time to take his medicine I put it in his hand and he just lays there, for hours, just staring at it. He says it's because his throat hurts so bad and he doesn't want to take it. I'm running out of time and patien....

When he takes a bath he has me come and and turn the ceiling fan on. Then off. Then on. Then off. The on again. My feet hurt.

He prefers orange juice. But it scratches his throat. So water. Maybe Sprite. "Do we have anything hot?" Orange juice again. Now water to "flush his system out"...i love it when he talks like that.

Anyway, can you all see how this is affecting me? Sure I'm not the one with 103 temp. but I have feelings too. Now add to that a one year old who doesn't understnad why she can't run and jump in dad's lap - or kiss all over dad. This is really starting to get me down. And now we have to cancel our SuperBowl plans???
"Please David. Please try to get well. We're having a Mexican pile-up."
"Melissa..."
"What? You don't ever want to do anything with me any more."

Maybe I'm being selfish. I call it honest.

Truth is, (and please don't let this get out) I adore the man. I mean it, I complain and gripe. I huff and puff. I pout. A lot. But I adore my own personal Attorney General. He's the absolute best man I've ever met in my life. And I've known a lot of men (oh wait, that's not me. That's Mae West.) So I spoil him. I made him his favorite homemade creamy chicken noodle soup. (Yep, creamy chicken noodle. Becuase in our house nothing is complete without 2 cups of half and half.) I got him some movies. Refresh his kleenex and draw his bath. And to be honest, it's still not half as much as what he does for me. What can I say? After 14 years, I'm still in love.

Now, back to complaining. I have to go to Wal-greens and pick up his prescription becuase they said it was going to take and hour to fill and could he wait??? Noooooooo. Seriously, he has a fever and sore throat. So what? Nothing a little hour of cruising around Wal-greens buying "As Seen on TV" stuff won't help. Hmph!