Saturday, December 28, 2013

I Just Wanted One Picture

I just wanted one good picture on Christmas.

She's not even yelling.  Just making this face.

Surely Hudson will cooperate.

No.  No, he won't.

One.  We got one good one.  Merry Christmas to me.

Friday, December 20, 2013

Photo Friday: Make everyone forget you're there

Guest Post from Ann

This is from the birthday party of my favorite 6-year-old. There are a lot of things that maybe aren't ideal in a technical sense about this photo, but I really like the feel of it. How do you get something candid, something that's totally them? Hang out with the camera until everyone forgets you're there. When I was taking this photo, somebody said, "Shouldn't somebody take a photo of them?" That's what you're going for.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

I Have Superfans So Some Things Are Going To Change

It’s a milestone day for me.  I have super fans.  Ok, so they’re people that work with my husband that read my blog, thought it would be fun to be on the blog and agreed to take a picture, but whatever…we’re going with superfans.  Meet Crystal and Nikki.

So now that I’m a big deal, I’ve been doing a lot of research into how to be a celebrity.  Some things are going to change.

For instance, I will now only be drinking soy milk.  Organic soy milk.  Make that free trade organic soy milk.  The thought of abused soy makes my stomach churn.  I have already penned a letter to Pamela Anderson asking her to join me in the fight against deplorable soy working conditions.  Don’t look at me like that.  Soy are people to, you know.  If Jenny McCarthy didn’t need science to talk about vaccinations, I don’t need it to talk about what constitute “a person”.  I’m a celebrity.  I have superfans.  Your argument is invalid.

I’m thinking of joining an obscure religion.  Scientology and Buddhism are kind of overplayed though so I’m thinking of branching out on my own.  There has to be some sort of super-natural power behind the socks lost in the dryer so I’m thinking of setting up an alter in my laundry room.  If you would like to join me, I welcome you to my religion with open arms and a reminder to say good-bye to your family forever because you will never speak to them again.  The sock God commands it.

I will be auditioning for new friends.  You know I love you all, but now that I’m big time I need friends that are more…celebrity-y.  That sounded shallow.  I’m okay with personal trainers and chefs too.  Just submit your resume and cool people references along with an essay to Crystal and Nikki explaining why I should give you the time of day.

I’m glad we could clear the air on the kind of person I’m going to become.  Be sure to look for me on The View shortly talking about equal rights for soy while meditating with socks on my hands.  Don’t be offended if I don’t talk to you when I see you in the store.  It’s not you, it’s me.  Because I am now better than you. 

Namaste and matching socks, people.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Where I Went This Week

I've been quiet this week.  It's because I was busy with this...

You can read more about it here and here.  I am thankful for all the wonderful moms (and dads) that I have met, that worked so hard to make this happen and that continue to speak up for what they believe in.  Now I am going to go take a nap.  We are just getting started.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Went to a Fancy Gala, Avoided a Janet Jackson Moment

This weekend Eric and I got to go to a fancy pants dinner.  It was a Tulsa Library Gala.  I’m not actually cool enough to get invited to something like this on my own, but I have friends that are and they invited us.  I admit I was pretty damn giddy when my friend Lori called to tell me about it.  They would be giving an award to Kazuo Ishiguro, the author of The Remains of the Day.   You know, the one they made into a movie starring Sir Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson?  I am proud to say I have read both the book and watched the movie.  I am ashamed to say I remember nothing else except that it featured a butler.

“It’s a literary thing so it’s right up your alley,” she said.  This is were I reminded her that she would be lucky if I didn’t blurt out something like “You all read that book Twilight.  That book is amaze-balls!”

I went out and bought a fancy pants dress from Saks.  My choices were narrowed considerably when I told the saleslady my price requirements and the fact that I needed a midget size.  Eric rented a tux and we were ready to go to prom, I mean, the Tulsa Library Gala.  (Yes, I admit it…I was excited about getting to wear fancy clothes.)

We arrived at Southern Hills country club in awe of how the other half lives.  Do you know that one of their parking lots has a name?  Yeah.  (Note to self: Come up with a name for my driveway.  I’ve seriously been procrastinating on that.  Embarrassing.)  We decided that the plates were definitely not purchased at Hobby Lobby or Party Galaxy.

We sat down at out table with people way more important than me.  I sat next to a very nice important gentleman who was there with his important wife who told me about his important son, an award-winning playwright.  He was probably about the age of my father and I was just imagining that if I were his daughter I would be a footnote at the end of his conversations.  “Then there’s Sabine.  Her crowning achievement is that she once ate three types of pie in once setting, but we don’t talk about her.”  And as I was thinking of something important and witty to say, the strap of my fancy pants dress snapped.

Now all I could think about as he was telling me about his important children was what if my boob pops out?  How should I excuse myself ?  “Excuse me, but I have to go to the restroom because I’m afraid my boob might pop out at any moment. I’m sorry, that was terribly inappropriate…my breast…I’m afraid my breast might pop out.”  Good Lord, people are in tuxes, I’ve got to use polite language.

I excused myself to go to the restroom without an elaborate explanation.  As I was trying to fashion my dress into a one-shoulder number or if that failed, use one of the curtain panel to fashion a new dress à la Scarlett O’Hara, Lori came in with a safety pin and put me back together again.  Janet Jackson moment averted.

In the end, I did not embarrass myself or my friends.  I did not flash any rich people, although to think I was endowed enough to do so was probably a bit ambitious.  I do have to admit something though.  I never actually read Twilight, I just watched the movie and I’m not sure exactly what that says about my status as literary.

Signed copy of The Remains of the Day-coolest party favor ever.  Way better than after dinner mint and I'm only slightly disappointed that party favor was not bag of money.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Children Are Like Tiny Drunks

Remember when you were in college and you were the designated driver.  Your friends would be singing drunken renditions of Garth Brooks songs, maybe a little TLC, while another friend was having deep philosophical thoughts about the universe or why fried pickles are so damn good.  Inevitable someone had to pee.  Yeah, driving with kids five and under is kinda like that.

The 15 minute drive to my in-laws house was a cacophony of sound.  Kenzie was singing, louder and with more vibrato as she went along.

“Twinkle, Twinkle little star.  How I wonder what you are…”

Enter Hudson.  Hudson was in awe of the Christmas lights.  Every lit house was better than the last.

“Oooohhh, did you see those lights?  Momma, did you see them?”
Kenzie was still singing.
“Up above the world so high…”
“Momma, did you see THOSE lights?  They’re so pretty.”

At this point, I am reminded of that scene in Young Guns where they all take peyote and Doc goes on and on about the love of his life being like a butterfly.  That’s how it started anyway.  By the end of the ride he was more like “Dirty Steve” on peyote going on about the hallucinated over-sized chicken.


Kenzie was still singing.  And to prove my children are like tiny drunk people/stoners point, this is what she started singing:
“Like a diamond, we’re so high…”
“Kenzie, I don’t think that’s how the song goes…”
“Up in the skyyyy….we’re so high…”

At least in college these types of nights ended with pancakes at IHOP.  This night I just got to do the whole thing over again on the way home.  Nobody bought me pancakes.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Hello, 35

When my brother was born I was 13 years old.  I remember thinking about how old I would be when he started school, when he graduated from high school, when he graduated from college.  I remember thinking when he graduated from college, I would be in my mid-thirties and man did that seem old.  I imagined what I would be doing.  I imagined I would be married, have a couple of kids, a house, a fabulous job.  Maybe grown up things like a mortgage.

Well, here I am.  Hello mid-thirties.

Today I turned 35.  Birthdays always make me a bit reflective.  I think back over the past year and there’s always a little bit of a pang of regret for another year behind me and the things I wish I had done.  But for the most part, I’m excited or at least hopeful about the future.  I may have been the only person excited about turning 30.  Maybe it has something to do with looking like a teenager.  Somehow telling someone I was actually thirty seemed like it would generate a bit more respect than telling someone I was actually twenty-something.

Truth is I wouldn’t want to go back.  Don’t get me wrong I’ve had some good times.  I had a great childhood.  But then I think about getting in a fight with my best friend when I was 10 about my new friend with who I was spending a lot of time.  She was kinda mean to me but she had just moved to Germany from the States and dressed cooler than the rest of us so I tolerated her meaness and wanted to be a part of her world so her coolness would rub off on me.  It was all very shallow and complicated at the same time.  No, I wouldn’t want to go back to that.

Then there was middle school.  Enough said.

High school wasn’t bad.  I still have close friends from those days, but I was painfully shy and I looked like a kid (ok, so some things haven’t changed).  I spent most of the time thinking that everyone thought I was a dork (which I was) and worrying what everyone thought of me and if I would ever be truly pretty.  I had a penchant for ill fitting jeans and bad bangs.  I did find the confidence to audition for “Grease” which is still one of my most proud memories.  Not because I was brilliant.  I wasn’t.  I got the part of “Radio Voice” and “Chorus”.  But I did it.  That was a lot back then.  It’s a lot now.

College was fun.  I found marvelous friends that I still have today.  I spent a lot of time figuring out who I was.  I figured out that person didn’t belong in Navy ROTC and would never be a military person.  I switched majors a couple of times.  For a while I was an independent  woman who chopped off all her hair because screw conventional beauty and because she was swearing off men for a while but still really wanted one to love her.  A lot of who I thought I was didn’t make much sense, but that’s what your twenties are for.  I met the man who would be my husband.  He loved me for whatever I was.

In my thirties, I started to feel…comfortable.  Comfortable in my own skin.  Comfortable with who I was, for the most part any way.  Now I’m 35.  I have a husband, two kids, a house, and grown up things like a mortgage.  I no longer have a job.  I would be lying if I said I love everything about myself.  I don’t.   But I’m learning to be ok with that now.  I would be lying if I knew exactly where I wanted to be in a year, in five years, in ten years.  I don’t.  But I’m learning to be ok with that too.  The difference between now and then is that I’m in no rush to figure it all out.  The difference between 35 and then is that I’m enjoying the journey a lot more these days.