Mamas Make Things Better

Last Saturday night, I went to a minor medical clinic because the cough/congestion I’d had for about 10 days wasn’t getting better.  Plus I had started running a mild fever.  I felt like someone had run over me with a truck.

The diagnosis was a really bad sinus infection, nothing like I thought it would be.  I had convinced myself that I had pneumonia, so I was all ready to return home with a doctor’s note that read, “Dear husband of the sickest woman I’ve seen in weeks, please understand that your wife is, in fact, sick, so you can stop telling her to take NyQuil and tough it out.  Make her some homemade soup, be sure she has plenty of juice to drink, and put her to bed.”

In all honesty, the hubs never told me to “tough it out,” but I’m sure it was implied at some point in the last week and a half.  (It’s hard to come by sympathy around here, seeing that the man is in some degree of constant pain because of about five discs in his back that are practically useless.)  I can kind of understand.

But the fact is that when I get sick and feel as rotten as I did last weekend, I do want just a touch of sympathy.  I want someone to hug me, pat on me a little, and say, “There, there.  Bless its bones.”  In other words, I want my Mama.

That’s right.  I’m a 40-year-old baby, and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Oh, I’ve tried to stop feeling that way plenty of times.  I’ve told myself that it’s time to put on my big-girl britches and get on with getting well.

But the truth of the matter is that, deep down, I will always want my Mama when I’m sick.  She’s the one who made everything better every single time I was sick for 22 years.  She always knew what to do and what to say.  And she would pat on me a little, say, “Bless its bones,” and put me to bed until I got well.

Now that I’m a grown-up with children of my own, I can’t run home every time I’m sick for some of Dr. Mama’s TLC.  We usually talk on the phone and she gives me advice and tells me she hopes I feel better.  I tell her that I will be fine.  But there’s a part of me that wants her to come and make everything better.

That’s why I was so glad to see her last Monday when she and David convinced me to stay home from work and rest for one more day.  She got here about 10:00 and stayed the better part of the day.  We visited, she played with Tater Tot and Small Fry, and by the time she left, I didn’t feel so sick anymore.

What can I say?  She just makes everything better…whether I’m sick or not.

A Few of My Favorite Things

For lack of anything else to write about, I thought I’d share a few things that I am crazy about  at the moment.

Aveeno Baby Lotion

This is the best baby lotion I’ve come across.  Small Fry has very fair and sensitive skin, and this stuff is great.  It doesn’t have that “baby smell” that J&J boasts, but it does a good job of keeping his skin soft and smooth.

OxyClean Laundry Spray

I haven’t found anything yet that this pretreatment won’t get out.

Williams-Sonoma Olive Oil Candle

Oh, this candle brings me untold joy.  Its scent is fresh and clean, and I hate to blow it out.  Originally, I bought one for a friend for her birthday, but I liked it so much that I kept one for myself and went back to the outlet for another.  It is fun, fun, fun to have a Williams Sonoma outlet just 10 minutes from our house.

Moroccan Oil

Okay, that’s the tiniest picture EVER.  Sorry about that, friends.  Anyhoo, this product is for your hair, and it is magic stuff.  It’s the best smoother, straightener, and  frizz-tamer I’ve ever used, and this curly-haired girl has used a ton of products to try and straighten the mane.  Moroccan Oil has changed my hair, y’all.  It’s softer, smoother, and oh-so-easy to straighten now.  It’s on the expensive side, but the first bottle I bought lasted eight months, which evened out to about $5 a month.  Trust me on this one, this is worth the money.

What are your favorite things these days?  I’d love to hear what great things I’m missing out on, so clue this girl in!

Heavy Hearts

Annie’s Black Hatchie Pearl

October 4, 2002 – February 21, 2010

“I think God will have prepared everything for our perfect happiness (in Heaven). If it takes my dog being there, I believe he’ll be there.”

Reverend Billy Graham

Spinach Dip

I have a great spinach dip recipe to share with you.

Are you ready to write this down?

Because it’s really good.

People will beg you for the recipe when you take it to parties.

You will need:

Put the refrigerated contents of a jar or two into your own bowl, grab a bag of chips, and you’re DONE!

Now, I’m not usually a fan of any dip that comes in a jar or some similar container.  However, this stuff is pretty darn good.  Last week, I was supposed to take chips and dip to a little get-together, and I completely forgot about it until it was too late to make something.  I stumbled upon this new find in the chips aisle and thought, What the heck? I bought two large jars and a bag of Tostitos strips, and for less than $10, I had my contribution to the party.

I’ve been enjoying another jar and bag of chips while watching the Olympics.  If eating this dip ever becomes an Olympic sport, I’m totally trying out for the team.

I’ve Seen the Future…

…and it is scary.

As many of you know, I teach 5th grade.  And, yes, feel free to put me on your prayer list.

There are lots of things we expect 5th graders to know by the time they’re this age.  I expect them to be able to walk down the hall without too much of a problem;  eat their lunches without completely grossing out everyone within three tables;  be relatively quiet when asked to settle down.

Of course, the majority of my class has mastered none, NONE, of these things in their first six years at our school.  I don’t feel so badly about this because the other teachers have the same problem with their classes.  As  a whole, this group of students is one exercise in patience.  And a trip or 39 to the pharmacy.   Or the liquor store.

Anyway, one day last week I gave a multiple choice test, and when he was finished, one student walked up to me with his paper in his hands and said, “Do you want me to put my name on it?”

As the blood drained straight to my feet, I said, “Well, sweetie,  if you don’t, how will I know it’s yours?”

He stared at me with the blankest look I’ve seen in a good, long time and held his paper out to me.  He said, “Because it’s mine.”

Right.

I’ll see you at Walgreen’s.

The Pink-Eye Pox is Upon Us

Somebody woke up yesterday with pink-eye.  IN BOTH EYES.

Sad, is it not?

We have the drops that will magically make the pox vamoose, but getting them into Small Fry’s eyes is like trying to water a gnat.

Ah, well, what do you know?  It’s time to go water the gnat…

She Would Get an Earful

They say that “with age comes wisdom.”  I don’t know how wise I am for my age, but there are some things that the 40-year-old me could’ve told the 18-year-old me.  For instance:

There’s nothing wrong with taking chances.  Sometimes it will pay off; other times it won’t.  When things don’t turn out the way you want them to, it’s not the end of the world.  And more often than not, the same people who would’ve been there to congratulate you if things had worked out your way are the same people who will be there to cushion your fall when things don’t.

You will think you’re in love with someone who will break your heart when it becomes clear that he isn’t the one.  But then you’ll fall in love with someone who would (and will) walk through fire before letting your heart hurt for one second.

You will reach an age where losing weight will not be easy, so lay off the pizza.

You will make the best friends of your life while in college.  College only lasts 4 years, so enjoy those friends and the time you have with them.  Because the chances of all of you living in the same town, or even remotely close to  one another, is slim.

You think you know how much your parents love you, but you won’t truly know love’s depths until you have children of your own.  Your love and admiration for your parents will then grow tenfold.

You will struggle to have children for 9 long years, and there will come a time when you simply give up.  Then, miraculously, you’ll find that you were, indeed, meant to have children.  With one look at your newborn son, those 9 painful years will drift away.

You have an incredible, brave, funny, dear brother whom you will admire more and more with each passing year.

You will battle depression, and you’ll think it can never be overcome.  You’ll even resist help for fear that nothing can make it go away.  Don’t resist that help and waste all of that time.

You’ll always wish you were living in your hometown.

You really shouldn’t wear orange, so just stop trying.

You will lose a friendship, and for a while you’ll believe it was entirely the other person’s fault.  You will be wrong, and that realization will teach you more than you ever expected.

You will have four dogs who live in the house and shed 30 pounds of dog hair a week.  Learn to love the vacuum cleaner.

You will have to learn to use a computer, and you’ll always be intimidated when asking for help.  So when you have to take a computer class your senior year of college, do not make the instructor mad.

You will reach the point where you listen to CDs more than the radio, and you’ll find that you don’t really care who sings what on the radio.

Your heart will sink the first time music from your high school years gets introduced as “Classic Hits.”

You will have to say goodbye to the only man who loves you unconditionally, and letting go will be the hardest thing you ever have to do.

You will forbid your mother to leave this earth.  EVER.

You will laugh a lot.  You’ll cry a lot.  Then you’ll laugh some more.

You’re going to be alright.  The road ahead isn’t always easy, but it’s worth every step.

Strawberry Cake…Good!

Monday was David’s birthday, and since his favorite cake is a homemade strawberry one, I made one for him.  Tater Tot added the candles.

Granted, it wasn’t the prettiest cake the world has ever seen, but SHUT YOUR MOUTH, it was good!  The icing alone will make you want to jump up, turn around, and slap the next person you see three times.

Here’s the recipe.

STRAWBERRY CAKE WITH CREAM CHEESE ICING

Cake:

1 pkg. plain white cake mix

1 pkg. strawberry gelatin

1 cup mashed strawberries with juice

1 cup vegetable oil

1/2 cup whole milk

4 large eggs

Frosting:

1 pkg. (8 oz) cream cheese

1 stick butter

3 1/2 cups powdered sugar

3/4 cup mashed strawberries (drained)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Lightly grease three 9-inch round pans.  Set pans aside.

Place cake mix, strawberry gelatin, mashed strawberries, oil, milk, and eggs in a large bowl and beat on low speed 1 minute.  Strawberries should be well-blended.

Divide batter among pans and place in oven.

Bake cakes until lightly brown (about 28-30 minutes).  Remove from oven and allow to cool for 40 minutes.

Prepare Frosting:

Combine cream cheese and butter, and mix on low speed for a minute.  Add sugar and strawberries.  Blend frosting on low until sugar is incorporated.

To assemble: place one cake layer on plate and spread top with frosting.  Repeat with other 2 layers.  Use remaining frosting for the sides of the cake.

Optional:  Have a 3 1/2-year-old decorate with candles.

Embarrassing Moment #893

The last embarrassing moment I wrote about involved a bathing suit, or lack thereof, and a near-death experience in Hawaii.

This one involves a station wagon and Starbucks.  The times?  They have surely changed.  Still, a bunch of men got a good laugh, much like in Hawaii.

A couple or five days a week, I walk into the same Starbucks on my way to school and order one of three things:  a caramel apple spice, a caramel mocha (sometimes hot, sometimes iced), or a white chocolate mocha with a shot of peppermint (again, sometimes hot, sometimes cold).

Several times a week, a group of men meets at this particular Starbucks.  There are probably six or seven of them, and they always sit near the front of the store. You know…where THE BIG WINDOWS ARE.

Well, last Wednesday, I parked my station wagon, went in, got my caramel apple spice, and went back to my car.  I used the keyless remote, but when I got to my car, it was still locked.  I must have pushed the unlock button 15 times in a panic before I realized I could just use my key.  Of course, when I tried to turn the key, it wouldn’t budge.  By this time, I felt sick.  What was wrong with my car?  My phone is in my purse, and my purse is in my car.  Oh, stinking heck!  I’ll be late.  What do I do?  Do I have it towed for something like this?  And how can I pay for it when I can’t get to my purse, which is sitting right there on the seat…

That’s when I actually looked inside the car.  It was very clean, whereas mine looks like it’s driven by a mother with two small children.  That was my first clue.  The fact that there were no car seats was another.

I’d been standing there for what felt like a sweet forever before I realized that I was basically trying to steal someone else’s car.

I backed up a few steps, looked to my left, and there — three spaces over was my car.

And there, inside Starbucks, were half-a-dozen retired men chuckling and giving me the thumbs-up.

This time, at least, all of my clothes were on.