This is the year — the year that I turn thirty!  Do you finally feel like a grown-up when you get there or do you still feel like you’re masquerading in your grandma’s heels & pearls? 

I was going to write some boring resolutions about working out & eating healthier, but I decided to make a list like Chrissie Grace who turns 35 in June.  Luckily for me, I have an extra month and five less things to accomplish. 

Buy a fancy mug & drink more tea– Anthropologie is calling me to return.  For $10 I can cross the first thing off my list and make a date with Earl Grey. 

Paint the kitchen table — I have a major itch to paint the top of our table with the children’s grace: “Thank you for the world so sweet…”

Make photo books — Have you been to Blurb?

Learn to grow tomatoes — There’s BPA in the canned goods, y’all.  Time to grow some plants!

Fill in the Baby Book — I am a very bad mommy.

Find a new playground — The one in our neighborhood is pretty wimpy and I have a gal who loves to climb.

100 crunches everyday — Little E asked me, “What’s wrong with your belly?  It’s ALLLLLL wrinkly!”

Paint more — because I like it. 

Increase blog readership — because I enjoy an audience.

Read 5 books — I am open to suggestions but I’m not a fantasy reader & I refuse to read any more Nicholas Sparks books.  People are always dying!?!!

Sell the house — We barely keep the house clean with a toddler and I’m tired of the last minute clean ups.

Go to bed earlier — I always feel so good the next morning!

Take an art class — It’s time for the FW to do something for herself.

Sew a jumper for Babycakes — It’s worth a try!

Do 10 Barefoot Events — I really want to get back into selling books again and my goal is to start with fundraisers at local preschools.

Create a fairy garden — Our flower beds are totally uninspiring and could use a little pixie dust.

Lose 10 pounds — This is the same ten I was trying to lose before I got pregnant.

Go for bike rides — I have a bike, a baby bike seat, but a child who refuses to wear a helmet.  Any advice?

Go to a public auction — My dad & grandfather score some really cool stuff and then have a retired guys yard sale when the weather’s nice.  Isn’t that cute?

Remember to water the ferns — I am a plant killer.

Say “NO” to red meat — It’s so hard to chew anyway.

Make felt play food– There’s felt food galore on Etsy and I’d like to make some, too!

Make & Sell Something — This will be a tough one…

Write a Gal’s Guide to Football — This is my project for Coach & myself as soon as all the College Bowl Games are over.

Send a letter to someone famous — I wrote one to Chris O’Donnell when I was twelve and he never wrote back.  I’m setting my sights higher for this one.

Help my mom run a summer camp for women — don’t worry, I will blog about this VERY soon!  It’s going to be a blast!!

Explore a new city or town

Write ridiculously silly poems

Trade the Marantz for a Baby Grand– That would be a killer thirtieth birthday present, don’tcha think?

Raise your hand if you think this tree will be destroyed before December 25th! 

While the ‘Cakes was sleeping yesterday, I cautiously climbed the pull-down attic stairs to retrieve our decorations.  The small boxes were a cinch.  The oversized Rubbermaid tub — not so much.  If you look down when you’re at the top of the attic steps, you can see down to the first floor.  It’s a little bit scary.  I was glad that I decided to climb up there in my bedroom slippers instead of something more practical like … say… shoes with soles. 

If you look VERY closely at the tree, you might notice that it’s decked with Shiny Bright ornaments.  I love them!  I started collecting them in college when I worked at an antique store, but I hated their individual price tags.  I purchased some at auctions, but my best find was at a church rummage sale in Somewhere, Maryland where I scored four boxes of them for ONE WHOLE DOLLAR.  The auxilary club’s trash became my favorite holiday treasure. 

As expected, Babycakes adores her Christmas tree.  In the left column of this blog, I should start an Ornament MIA list beginning with Christmas Caroling Ernie.  She ripped him off the tree sometime between breakfast and her morning nap.  He is 3 inches tall, black hair, orange skin, carrying a hymnal — small reward for his return. 

Decorating the tree with a starry-eyed toddler reminded me of how much I enjoyed helping my own mother at Christmas.  In our house, music was an important part of the season and so each event whether decorating or baking was accompanied by our special songs of the season.  We all had our favorite records.  My mom liked Barbra Mandrel.  My dad liked Mitch’s Sing Along (sticking fingers down my throat — ack!).  My sister — the Smurf’s Christmas Album.  My brother — he’s such a baby and was born in the age of CDs.  As for me, I’m still trying to figure out what Loretta Lynn’s singing about when she and her cousins were making “ballets on the floor”.  It’s just not December without Loretta’s Country Christmas. 

(*sigh*) 

What?!  You don’t have it?!!! 

The shame.   

Listen to it here!

* After listening to this song umpteen times, I have concluded that the folks at lyrics.com are wrong.  Loretta and her cousins were definitely making “pile-ups on the floor.”

I’ve got my toes in the water

Diaper in the sand

Not a worry in the world

Sippy cup in my hand

Life is good today.

Life is good today.

We were in search of rest & relaxation and we found it on the coast.  Going to the beach in November is such a special time.  We can forget about the disappointments of the season and just be a family.  Nothing brings us more joy than watching that sweet girl of ours run the beach at low tide.  Listening to her giggle & discover the water and sand puts everything into perspective.  All we really need is standing right in front of us. 

“The cure for everything is salt water:  sweat, tears, or the sea.”

– Isak Dineson

mow

change lightbulbs

take out the trash

& other general BOY stuff

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There’s a real estate agent coming tomorrow to take pictures of our house as we make one last attempt at selling and my house is a certified disaster zone.  There’s stuff everywhere…  it grows like kudzu.  It seems to grow faster when someone small is in the room.  Apparently toddlers get a real kick out of putting toys & tupperware lids in dog bowl water and stealing spatulas from the dishwasher. Of course, let’s not forget how much joy they find in trashing the CD collection and tossing DVDs under the sofa.  And you know your baby had “something to do with it” when you find the remote control in the bread drawer. 

In preparation for picture day, the agent asked if we could mow the lawn and I said yes, because everyone should have a well kept yard.  Sadly, we are THOSE neighbors — the ones whose yard looks like the African Savannah.  Coach mows in every season but football season and then it’s up to me and the grace of God to get the grass cut.  Today, it was not meant to be.  I attempted to mow — I dragged the mower to the front, primed the pump, pulled back the lever, & yanked the cord.  Chug.  Chug.  Chug.  I tried 47 times to start the darn thing.  If it wasn’t 47, then it was 54.  Embarrassing.  I’m just going to go out there and do what any girl would do in my situation…. start cutting with scissors. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

What am I doing sitting here writing?! 

This wife has work to do.

By the way, in 10 days I get my husband back.  Poor guy… he thought he worked a lot during the season.  Wait ’til he sees that Honey Do List!

Babycakes sporting her mommy-made shirt before the game.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The blanket of clouds that threatened to dampen our Saturday afternoon lifted just as the game began.  And the sky was an amazing shade of blue.  Things I know about game day:  the parents will tailgate, the children will play, diet cokes will be served ice cold, & the grass will always be green.  Things I never know:  how we match up against the opposing team. 

So, how did we match up yesterday?  We fumbled the ball in the first few seconds of the game & the other team scored.  And that, my friends, makes you scream on the inside.  Causes you to clench your jaw in frustration.  What the darn heck was that? 

But, y’all…

We won!

Dear Friends,

It has been awhile since I have written.  I have asked for a weekly column, but I guess someone doesn’t like to share her blog.  Someone says that I’m not nearly as clever as I think I am.  Someone said that maybe if I stay off the kitchen table, I can have more computer privileges.  Someone says my new name should be Dyson or Hoover.  I prefer Dirt Devil.   

Enough about her – let’s talk about me.  Your furry, white & fluffy friend.  Notice I said fluffy — I like being fluffy because it makes me feel bigger.  It’s like people with 80’s bangs — it makes them feel taller.  I love my hair and this book that I came across made me faint:

 Please, I beg you with paws outstretched to the heavens…

Do not make me into a cable knit sweater. 

This book makes me nervous and sad.  It makes me want to puke.  It makes me want to run away.  No amount of treats could ever make me feel good about a Maltese Fur Coat. 

Maybe I should be flattered that this grandma wants to dress like me.  I don’t know what grandpa is wearing — chocolate lab?  This is a bad idea.  Kohl’s is having a sale — go there.  Dad said you could.  You don’t have time to knit me into anything — not even time for a sock. 

What?  What did you say? 

Get my knickers out of a twist?  You don’t want a Furbaby sweater?  Phew…  thank goodness.   I guess it is still 80 degrees here.  Okay, forget all that nonsense.  If you were just trying to scare Furbaby into being a pack follower, it worked.  I will let you be in charge as long as you don’t turn me into a vest. 

Oooo…. kids going to the bus stop.  Gotta bark!  Bye!

  Licks & Love,

Furbaby

Someone cute & small has her days & nights mixed up which is causing her mother to lose her mind.  Seriously, is it Monday?  I’m really not sure. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

On Saturday, we hosted our Red & Black Kick-Off Party! 

As predicted, I had a little helper in the kitchen as I tried to wrangle half a cow into my slow cooker.  While desperately trying to keep the counters free from the threat of e. coli, Babycakes decided it would be the perfect moment to throw a jar of dried mustard into the dog’s bowl.  There are just some things that a sham-wow can’t do… 

I browned enough meat that afternoon to make a vegetarian feel suicidal.  When was the last time you cooked 20 pounds of meat?  The Yankee BBQ was a hit — I would give you the recipe if I had followed one.  It goes a little like this: 

• Brown large quantity of hamburger in extra large slow cooker
• Skim all the fat and then rinse the hamburger
• Bury the skimmed grease in your backyard
• Clean your slow cooker
• Return meat to cooker, add whole bottle of ketchup
• Squirt cute designs with mustard into meat
• Add brown sugar haphazardly
• Stir
• Simmer
• Taste
• Keep monkeying with it until it tastes “just right”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

My favorite part about throwing football themed parties (other than having friends over!) is that we get to use our themed partyware.  Each wine glass wasn’t complete until it was fitted with a coach’s whistle.  The pretzels were inside a football, the chips in a turf field platter, & cookies on a helmet plate.  I swore I was going to take pictures of everything, but my elf was particularly squirrely at go-time.  I’m sure you’re devastated!  No pictures of bowls of pretzels?  How will you ever go on? 

 A good time was had by all and at the end of the night, Coach and I headed upstairs to bed.  He wanted to know, “What was everyone’s favorite food?”  ‘Anything with meat in it’ was my response.  “What was the least favorite dish?”  ‘Vegetables,’ I said drifting off to sleep, ‘no one wanted broccoli.’ 

Snuggled deep in my covers with my dog in my arms there was a sudden, “Wah” from the next room.  Sleep interrupted.  Again.  For two hours, I did the pacifier tango when finally at 2:30 am. Babycakes submitted to sleep. 

I complain about my lack of sleep & dependence on coffee a lot and for that I am very sorry.  I will soon start another blog called:  mybabyneversleeps.com or maybe ineedababysitterjustsoicannap.com

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one. 

 ~Leo J. Burke

 Excuse me, little brother.  You have some explaining to do.

Who gave you permission to grow up?

This little boy has had me wrapped around his finger since day 1.  There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for him.  When he was a baby, he couldn’t say my name so he called me “Peppi” & then later called me “Debbie”.  My name is Sara. 

The best memories I have of my childhood seem to involve our record player.  I can remember dancing to Journey with Joey on my hip when I was twelve years old and singing the words, “You’re the meaning in my life, you’re the inspiration…”  He was the most lovable baby.  We also kicked it up a notch, played “Elvira” with the bass kickin’, and taught that little guy how to slide across the kitchen floor.  Giddy up!  Oom Pa Pa…

I wish I could share every story about Joe with all with you, but I want my brother to still like me.  So I’ll just tell you that when he was two years old, my friend & I used to make him play along with us when we made prank phone calls.  We would tell him what to say & he was happy to be a part of our shenanigans.  Sorry, Mom.  See what happens when you let your 12 year old babysit?  Shenanigans. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He’ll probably kill me for this one:  Before my brother grew hair on his arms and sprouted muscles everywhere, he was a bit more modest and didn’t like for anyone to see him without a shirt on.  My dad was trying to help him get ready and handed him a tank top to wear. 

“Dad, I can’t wear this!  You can see my d*ck.” 

“What?!?  Joe!!” my Dad yelled.

“Oh, I mean my chest nuts.” 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sitting here thinking about which stories to share is making me feel sad.  Why is that?  I want him to go to college and I want him to be successful.  I am overjoyed at this milestone, so why do I have a lump in my throat? I certainly don’t want him to be a baby again.  Lord knows I have all the baby I can handle.  It’s just that it all happened so fast… 

Long gone are the days of carrying you on my hip.  Or on my back.  Or shoulders.  But Little brother, you will never be too big to carry in my heart. 

“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love.”

– Henry Drummond

Here is Mommy’s Little Sous Chef…

What should we make for dinner?  After laying on half a dozen cookbooks, it became clear…

Veggies!

Mmmmm…. eggplant!  Mmmmm…. zucchini!  Mmmmm…. tomatoes!

Delicious! 

See the full recipe in the recipe section!

Ratatouille

If there’s one person who understands my life as a football coach’s wife, it’s K.  She’s my “mentor” of sorts — I take her lead because she’s a fantastic example of a head coach’s wife.  On Monday, K, her Coach, and their three youngest children (ages 8, 6, & 3) stopped by our house for a visit.  The boys were exhausted and sun-kissed after a day of football camp, yet it didn’t seem to affect their energy level as they entered the house. 

*Just a side note, the three year old wasn’t officially participating in the camp, but running the sidelines and watching his Daddy was enough to keep him satisfied.  This meant, however, that his Mommy was also running the sidelines. 

 K’s six-year-old is the ultimate football kid.  He has forever slept with a stuffed animal of their school’s mascot, he wears football cleats everywhere, & even draws pictures of football players.  This is what inspired our Art Gallery — plus, the football wives needed the kids to sit still for a moment. 

When you’re part of a football family, it really is football-football all the time. 

Babycakes isn’t yet 9 months old and SHE already has a football jersey, cheerleading outfit, taggie football, 2 football rattles, & multiple football onesies.  You saw the dog — even he has a uniform!  There’s really no escaping it.  It’s always football season in our homes.