The Texas Mama

                                            
   

   Confession: I am a HUGE Harry Potter fan.  To say that I have read the books and seen the movies would not be enough.  I HEART HARRY POTTER.  I read the first one as a teenager and was hooked.  At the mere mention of anything Harry Potter related I get all atingle.  I love reading, as so I have read many many books.  The Harry Potter series is without question my favorite.  I could go on and on about my obsession, but that is not why I am writing today.

   My adoration is not just limited to the fictional characters of the books.  I also have great admiration for the author, J.K. Rowling.  She has single handedly gotten children, teenagers, and even adults to read.  For pleasure!  Many a mother out there feels indebted to this woman and her amazing creativity.  This woman has imagined an entire world.  She has created characters so well, we feel as if we know them- we find ourselves emotionally involved.  Just the names for things that she has come up with are amazing, not to mention the explanations and descriptions for them.  For example, let me get a little Dumbledore on you: auror: an enforcer of magical laws, squib: a person who has little to no magical powers, despite their magical family, muggle: a non-magical person.  There are so many of these nonsensical words that she has made up, and they’re great!

   The author has done more for non-impoverished children than anyone.  And we are talking about a woman who pulled herself up by her boot straps here, people.  I believe she was single mom on the equivalent to welfare when she started writing the series.  I am inspired by her.  I believe that she is one of those good role models that we hear about. 

   Every day I find myself in the constant internal struggle.  Yes, I want to be THAT wife and THAT mother.  But, darn it, I want to be ME!  I want ME to be GREAT!  I want me to be this amazing combination of loving, ever so patient and understanding wife and mother, domestic goddess extraordinare, sex kitten, health and fitness guru, rhodes scholar, stand up comedian, spiritually beautiful, and just a fun person to be around in general.  Roll that all up in a fabulous body, sprinkle generously with cash- and WHAM you’ve almost got it.  Then I finally drag myself outta bed and think- ah, forget it.  I’ll work on that next week…

   As I mentioned before, upon taking one of those little quizzes, I found myself to be Susan of Desperate Housewives.  I have thought it through, and yes, I am most like her.  I definitely have my insecurities.  I am not quiet about them.  I delude myself that if I warn people about me, they will like me better when they find that I am not all that bad. I could be considered also a little old fashioned in that I have a Dependency on my Husband.  I am a stay at home mom.  Actually, I believe this to be the reverse.  I believe the SAHM to be the new “in” thing to be.  Look at the blogosphere- it is CRAWLING with mommy bloggers, many of them are SAHMs.  I have begun to come out of my shell and decide what I want to be when I grow up, but I will always be a SAHM.  For as long as I can remember, I knew I wanted to be there all the time.  The thought of leaving my Hali with someone else while I go to work actually makes me a little sick to my stomach.  I love being a mom, and consider it THE most important job on this earth.  What’s important is that I try my hardest.  It’s a shame that wears a person out like it does, though…

   There are some (okay, a lot of) perfectionist qualities about me.  I prefer to do it myself, instead of leaving it to the hubs to screw up.  Not that I do it all myself- after dinner (when DH is actually home) it is his choice: clean up after dinner or bathe the Hali. Being the perfectionist that I am, I always have to go back in and clean up which ever one he chose.  I have to put up the bath toys in their basket or I have to put the last of the things in the pantry that DH just didn’t seem to notice.  I HATE HATE HATE going to bed and/or waking up to a messy house.  I cannot relax until it is reasonably picked up.  I like to make straight lines and rows when I vacuum.  I like the pillows and cushions just so.  The “casual throw” is not so casually thrown- I have to place it just so that it looks perfectly casually thrown (which really means there should be no casual there, right?!).  My pantry shelves must have all like contents grouped together.  I hang shirts/tops/blouses in a rainbow.  Starting with white, then red, orange, and so on to end in brown and black.  I could go on, but I am boring you.

   The old me was a bit more of a man eater.  I made my daddy proud by the way I could be rude to the boys when they dared call me.  Sure, I joked and flirted a little, maybe even strung them along a little.  But I was just practicing for The Big Time.  I probably could have, I dunno, say had a date to my senior prom if I hadn’t been so aloof (that and if I had been willing to put out, which I wasn’t).  As a teenager, half of my boyfriends were not really all that handsome.  Being a tall, thin, pretty, curvaceous blond, I probably coulda had some hotties.  Instead, I preferred the men boys who would work for it.  I needed to be treated as if I was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to them.  I shoulda stuck with that plan and married one of those types.  Kicking myself now…

All righty, mamas! A little something to start off the week, because I think we all need a little something to enjoy on Mondays…

Even if you are not a big fan of the show, you are probably somewhat familiar with the characters, so try this out:
Which Desperate Housewife are you? Try this quiz (I’m a Susan, but no suprise there)  http://abc.go.com/primetime/desperate/quiz/index.html

I, as most moms are, am a little of all of them in reality. But more on that in my next post (see, what a tease I am- just like our fav. D.H. blond realtor- Evie!)

These quizes are so silly, but they really help put me in that fun, playful, relaxed place.  I’m a much more fun mom when I am there.  You know, the one that lets you eat ice cream for a snack, or that jumps on the bed with you.  I realize that this is not the most intellectually stimulating post, but in my opinion, Mondays do not call for it- its all I can do just to drag my butt outta bed on Monday morning and begin the daunting task of my family’s laundry.  Mondays are for staying home, getting some housework done while vegging as much as possible and eatting left overs.  Around here, anyways.  Tuesday comes around quick enough, and my poor brain has to start functioning on a nearly normal level. 

*Also fun on Mondays and just what you need to pick up your day- other childish links that are a secret guilty pleasure, and that I have been so kind as to paste here:

http://www.createfarts.com/

http://www.pcphrases.com/

http://www.crazylaws.com/

   
   1.)  What purpose do cockroaches and mosquitoes serve?

Are there bugs that only they will eat, or are there bugs or animals that will only eat them, thus with their absence the food chain would be incomplete and breakdown? Why must I be so totally repulsed by roaches?  Why am I so tasty to mosquitoes?


   2.)  Why are womens’ who-who’s so much nicer looking than mens’? 

Does this mean that I am secretly a lesbian?  I don’t think so.  There are a lot of people out there who think the same thing.  Our girlie bits just seem to be more pleasing to the eye than manly bits.  Plus, there is the whole ‘we don’t seem to feel the need to constantly rearrange ourselves down there’.  I almost never sit on the couch with my hands down my pants.  While I have observed men talking to other men and casually reach down and adjust themselves mid conversation (or just while standing there in silence), I have never noticed this amongst women.  What kind of phenomena is this?  Would I not most surely get an odd look if I, in the middle of a sentence, reached down and fondled my parts?


   3.)  Why is it considered inappropriate to many to use the anatomically correct words for said parts? 

My first response would be that we don’t want to teach our children these words, lest they go to school and teach all the other children about vagina’s and penises.  There- I said it.  But if we all taught our children these words, instead of all the euphemisms that I have come up with, this wouldn’t be a problem, would it?  For fear of other parent’s reactions, my daughter uses the word “hiney” pronounced “hi knee” if that is unclear or misspelled.  She is very proud of her hiney and enjoys pointing to it and informing my husband and me of it’s name.  Good for her.  


   4.)  Why are mens’ and womens’ clothing and shoe sizes measured differently?

Is this to avoid any kind of mix up?  And why is that a problem?  I think that if everything were on the same measuring system things would be easier.  Surely men would have an easier time shopping for us- less guess work.

   For the most part, men like big boobs.  Yes, I am blunt.  If this is a surprise to you, welcome to my blog- this must be your first time here.  Don’t let this scare you off.  Since the dawn of time, men have been drawn to women with larger breasts.  Yes, this is not quite fair.  They are drawn to large ta-tas, whether they know it or not, because of what big bosoms represent.  

   From prehistoric times all the way down until relatively recently, large chests were taken as a sign that women as mothers, would be able to provide.  Their milk would be plentiful.  While we now know that to be incorrect, there it is.  That is why so many men instinctually lika-da-boobies.  That and they are fun and interesting because they don’t have them and they were forbidden for so many of their hormone ridden preteen and teenage years.  

   Women are not immune to these primitive interests either.  Many women find themselves drawn to (even if they aren’t really interested, they just like to look) muscular well built men.  The reasons are basically the same.  These type of men’s bodies say to us on a primeval way that they would be good providers.  With these well muscled bodies, surely they are good hunters.  Their muscled, broad shouldered bodies appeal to us subconsciously because we believe that means they can take care of us and our children.

   You see, we are not yet so fully evolved that we are not drawn to these physical traits.  Luckily, I seriously doubt that we are as drawn to those characteristics as we were a thousand years ago.  We all have our “types”- you know, once we have gotten to know enough men we figure out what it is that we want in one.  Or don’t want.  Or can’t stand.  Or think we can change/train/modify but we can’t.  For the most part.



*It is not the intention of Mom and Me, and/or anyone affiliated with said blog to offend the small breasted women out there. We are not liable for any hurt feelings or duress inflicted by the reading of above.  The views and commentary above are not made in hopes of receiving angry comments- please do make them.  If you feel the need to negatively comment, you know where to stick it.

   A few things that prove my point:


<IMG style=”WIDTH: 157px; HEIGHT: 134px” height=1809 src=”/images/21876-20889/HPIM0420.JPG” width=2410>   These are a must have for this seasons hottest fashions.  No, they aren’t pretty (you shoulda seen the really fuzzy ones that I wore before these until they literally fell apart).  Notice the sleek, slim lines.  Observe the slimming effect on my kankles.  Now if I was really classy, I would show you the appropriate sleepwear that goes with these lovely feminine delights:

<IMG style=”WIDTH: 188px; HEIGHT: 104px” height=1704 src=”/images/21876-20889/HPIM0417.JPG” width=2249>   No, your eyes are not deceiving you, this is THE sexiest thing out there in sleepwear fashion. Now if you turn your head just so (I am too lazy to turn the picture for you) you can fully appreciate the details that include buttons (for whippin’ the girls out for those late night feedings) and the lovely flowery embroidery- you know, to class it up, make it more appealing because what woman is not instantly drawn to embroidered flowers?!  For surely these flowers will make your husband want to jump you once he lays eyes on this get up.  Might I add the moo moo flowing and flattering cut cover a multitude of sins.  The material is also wonderfully stain resistant for those times when you and the hubs may have gotten a little carried away with the whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and honey a little breast milk may have leaked.  Trust me ladies, no man can resist this sexy item.  Fifteen percent of the time, it works every time.



<IMG style=”WIDTH: 187px; HEIGHT: 113px” height=1834 src=”/images/21876-20889/HPIM0419.JPG” width=2422>   I am particularly thrilled with this item of furniture.  This, is a futon.  You know- the kind you see in a bachelor pad or a college dorm?  Except its here.  In my home.  It really adds that layer of sophistication.  Like I had a designer come in our something- you know?  Unfortunately, there is fairly decent excuse why I have this.  

   While we were in Idaho, we were in a home that had a basement- most do up there.  In fact some homes, called basement houses, are just that- homes that are basements only.  Now THAT is classy!  Shortly after moving there, I had my eye on a couch that I actually really liked and would not have been able to really make fun of here.  With the help of my brother, they picked it up from the store, brought it home, and unloaded it off the trailer.  Which is where it went back to five minutes later.  For reasons unbeknown to us, the person who finished the basement failed to take into account that a person may want to put a couch down there.  It wouldn’t fit in any of the doors, let alone down the narrow flight of stairs. This was an older home.  What did the previous owners or renters sit on down there? Their thumbs? So we got a futon.


<IMG style=”WIDTH: 145px; HEIGHT: 134px” height=1544 src=”/images/21876-20889/HPIM0462.JPG” width=2027>   Last but not least.  THIS IS the creme de la creme.  One look at this and you will be wowed by my decorating genius.  Uh, hello…it’s a box (you may be thinking). No, no, no, no ladies!  It is sooooo much more!  You see, it is also a very functional, very sturdy, very fancy printer stand.  When its not buckling under the weight of the printer, that is.  Our last house had a little office off the family room with built in desk and drawers and cabinets.  This one does not.  

   As you can see, I am one classy lady. I sit with my legs spread out to try and cool off while gulping my iced green tea I cross my legs and sip my tea with my pinkie up.  I have never owned a leopard print thong worn anything risqué under my clothes- just white cotton underwear. And I fart little pink hearts. 

*I apologize if these pictures do not all come through- I have been having a problem with that. The first is of my furry pink slippers, the second of my matronly pink night gown, the third of a black futon, and the forth of a box that is currently being used as a printer stand.

   Last week, I ran into an old friend from high school.  Being the anti-social person that I am, I basically haven’t seen anyone I graduated with since, well, we graduated.  Sure I ran into a few months later at SHSU, but I only was there for one semester, and it was generally just a breezy minute long conversation.  This friend told me to log on to myspace.com, and I would find quite a few old friends.  So a couple of days ago I did just that- thus the title for this entry.  Only a few have actually graduated from college yet.  Many are still working on it.  Mind you, I hear that it now takes 5 years to complete a college degree verses what we used to think only took 4 years.  So I guess they’re not doing all that bad- heck I just finally decided what I wanted to do when I grew up!  My mom tells me she still doesn’t know what she wants to be. I just want to be clear here, I am not criticizing- so unlike me I know I mean I never criticize, nope, not me…

   But looking at what they have put for their profiles and the pictures that they have placed on them, well, made me feel old.  There were countless pictures of them drunk at a bar, drunk at a club, drunk at a party, drunk at someone’s place…you get the picture.  There were little messages and comments about the “great party” and “awesome weekend”.  One old friend even actually had the words “bong beer” on her profile.  She was the head cheerleader in high school.  Reading these and seeing these drunken “fun” pictures, I thought “what? I mean….aren’t they a little past that at our age?”.  Then it hit me- I am 23.  So are they.  At this age, that is what a lot of people are doing.  It’s me that is different.  

   All my friends for the past two and a half years or so are moms.  I am a mom.  That is a very big part of me- who I am.  I find myself hardly identifying with my old high school buddies, because drinking, partying, smoking, and making out with strangers is not who I am.  It never was.  No one talked to me about the wild party last weekend when we were in high school, because I wasn’t there.  I never was.  I knew better.  Sure that’s fun in its own way I’m sure, but so was going to the movies or hanging out at my house and playing board games.  Those also have the added benefit of not getting you arrested for underage drinking or suffering the wrath of your parents and grounding thereof.  I have always taken myself a little to seriously.

   So now, here I sit.  An old lady at 23.  I will be celebrating my 5th anniversary with my wonderful husband this winter.  My daughter will be 3 this winter.  My husband will be 27 this fall.  I have all these wonderful things- not worldly goods, but things that I will take with me.  I have been through all these things.  I feel like I have lived so much in my short 23 years, especially after seeing where some of the “old crew” is now.  I feel like maybe in a few years, when they are ready to settle down, they will see.  It is an odd feeling to see these people and where they are at in life in comparison to where I am at in life.  I have never liked to waste time, I mean come on- it’s obvious.  Married at not quite 19, mom at not quite 21?  Hello!  If you know what you want, go for it!  Some may say, oh, I wish I had waited.  Ever notice how you don’t hear that out of any elderly people’s mouths?  Or ‘I wish I had gotten really wasted a few more times’.  I have a lot I want to do in the next 60-70 years, you know?  I want to be proud of what I have done.  I want to be proud of my choices when I am old.  I’ll forget what I did last night then- when alhiemers and senility kicks in.  Why don’t other 23 year olds think this?  Am I really that different?  I guess I am.  Good for me.

   If my husband was allowed to sell me, I believe that would be what the sign around my neck would say.  In small print it would say something like: young, keeps a tidy house, pretty decent cook, tiger in the sack (TMI, I know), lots of wear and tear, now available in a larger size, occasional tendency to complain, will throw in toddler as a bonus.

   That said, I attempted some do it yourself work last night on This Old House:

   I trimmed, filed, buffed, removed old peeling half gone polish, and repainted (even Hali’s ‘lil pigs got a new pink coat).  My finger nails just never stay nice  and smooth and even; I use them as spot removers too often- you know, where you use them to get that gunk off the counter instead of getting out a rag?  My toe nails have been getting more attention as of late, because now that I am back in Texas, I wear flip-flops all year long.  So I try to keep them decent.  I don’t think that I painted my toes more than 2 times in Idaho.  I was there for almost 8 months.  It’s not quite as bad as it seems, though.  I was there for mostly fall and winter.  Toe bearing shoes are not recommended during these seasons.  I stuck to my wonderful ugs (I will be wearing them way after they go out of style, thank you very much) and tennis shoes mainly.  But enough about my feet.

   I should mention the waxing and plucking of the jungle on my face I like to call eyebrows (which have a unibrow tendency) that also went on last night.  I find waxing oddly satisfying.  

   I topped off the night with some serious renovation.  The toe nails were all shiny and pretty.  But the soles of my feet and my heels were a sight to behold.  So I unearthed my pumice stone and my protective goggles and went to town.  I’m thinking of getting hubby a belt sander so I can use it on my feet so he can use it on his project cars for father’s day.  I am a real redneck woman and can walk across burning hot coals (also known as a gravel or blacktop street in Texas) without any shoes on. 

   I hosed down.  From within the shower the exfoliating and scrubbing began.  As soon as I dried off, I was slathering on lotion, just positive that I was about to see the fruits of my labor.  I looked in the mirror, and alas- I was not glowing.  I cannot tell you how disappointed I was.  I had wonderfully shaped eyebrows (I was able to have better control this time- last time I went overboard and was ashamed to be seen in public), cute pink toes, but no fresh, glowing, dewy skin.  Maybe I have to eat more than a serving of veggies a day after all.  Drinking more than green tea may help too.

   Tonight, I may even shave my legs!  Watch out the S.S. Hygiene, here I come! 

                                                            
   As I looked over at my daughter just in time to catch her chubby little hands come together in a clap, I realized that action has always been something I enjoy seeing her do.  From the first time that those adorable, chubby, rollie pollie hands accidentally came together in a smack, it has put a smile on my face.  Inspired, I started noticing the other things that she does and that babies and toddlers in general do to make us moms grin.  

   Just sitting there watching her play is wonderful.  I remember one night, when she was probably just over a year old and really starting to play and walk around, we stayed up until about 11 o’clock at night because she was just so full of energy and being so absolutely adorable that all my husband and I could do was sit there misty-eyed, grinning like idiots.  Jeremy had been working long hours and had hardly seen us for weeks.  So she could see her daddy, I let her sleep a little longer during her nap that afternoon so she would be able to stay up late that night.  It was so worth a little planning ahead, and little difference from the normal routine.

   The future cinematographer in Hali is already showing itself as I watch her watching a movie.  She belts out her favorite songs in each movie at the top of her voice.  Having no singing ability myself, I adore listening to her sing/yell along to music and recite favorite nursery songs.  I bribe her to sing them over the phone to my mom, who, at 2,000 miles away will listen with the patience of a monk to anything Hali related. 

   My daughter is a girlie girl.  Thank GOODNESS!  I wanted a girl that would play dress up with costume jewelry and plastic heels.  I wanted a daughter that loved cute clothes, shoes, purses, and hair.  She won’t let me touch her soft brown curls.  

                                                              

   3 out of 4 ain’t bad. Really there was no hope for her NOT liking shoes.  My hubs and I both have shoe fetishes.  Both our mothers do, and my mom’s mom is rumored to have stopped at a shoe store on her way in to have my mother.  Shoe shopping while in labor- who doesn’t love that?!  Often, the first thing my daughter will do in the mornings- before she has even had a diaper change and is still bleary eyed and clad in pajamas, is to put on her newest pair of pink sandals and her newest purse.  Laughing at your daughter when you’re still not totally awake is a great way to start your day.

   To put an end to my ceaseless bragging, I will conclude with one more than I believe many moms can relate too.  Hali will say hi, bye, good morning, etc. to any Joe Blow on the street.  If we pass by a stranger, or go to the pool, or go shopping, or any public place that contains people- she will say goodbye to anyone.  But if that stranger tries to get too close, she runs behind mama for protection.  Talking good.  Contact bad.  Thats my girl.