It's Kinda Like When You Drink Too Much And Know You'd Feel Better If You Just Gagged Yourself and Got It Overwith

Not that I'd know anything about that...

Moving on...

So, have you seen The Holiday with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslett? If you haven't, its pretty good as chic fliks go...good enough that Ive seen it three times and have not wanted to gouge my eyes out yet. Anywho, Cameron's character, Amanda, can NOT cry. She wants to. She tries. There is a funny sequence of her trying all sorts of ways to bring on the tears to no avail. THIS IS ME, PEOPLE! WHAT is WRONG with me? I feel like I am on the teetering brink of a nuclear, crying meltdown about 96% of the time and yet, NOTHING. Nada. Zilch. I set aside a whole entire day alone last week to indulge myself. Read a sad book, have wine with lunch in the middle of the day by myself. Watch a sad movie. Wear my jammies and have myself a good, long, pitiful crying gag. NOTHING I tell you.

What does this say about me? How do I fix it? Should I fix it? AAARGH!

In the Mood

....No not for THAT! For Christmas spirit and joy.



Its share time. I'll tell you my favorite Christmas CDs/music...you all do the same in the comments or on your blog. If on your blog, then leave a comment/link in the comments. My list of favorites is likely to give away my true old-lady, mellow nature...

1. All-purpose wonderful, beautiful music:

*Christmas Blessings by Tom Baroco - All I can tell you is that it is just BEAUTIFUL. It will lift your spirits, and put you in the spirit of the season. Seriously, if you only own one album- this is THE ONE! Buy it now!

*A Winter's Solstice by Windam Hill - no description or reason necessary, right?

* Miracle by Kenny G - yes, I like it - you do too, you just wont admit it out loud. Funny note about this one: we have a good friend who refuses to listen to this anytime or anywhere because he finds it truly offensive to listen to Christmas music from a Jewish artist. I think its STOOPID, but find it hilarious for some inexplicable reason.

* October Road by James Taylor - Its not all Christmas, but its a fab album and his rendition of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" is PERFECTION for keeping the materialism in check. Something about they way he sings of "precious friends" really gets the message into your heart.

2. My Favorite fun Albums:

* Harry Connick - Harry For the Holidays (Really, do you need a reason for this one?)

* Diana Krall's Christmas Songs - We all know that I LOVE and ADORE her. Sophisticated, Fun, and at times Sultry. End of story. I do not care if you are a jazz snob who thinks she is a sell-out. Give it a chance, you will fall in love with her when your Grinch heart grows as you listen.

Elf soundtrack - MOST ESPECIALLY the Zooey Deschanel and Will Ferrell version of "Baby, Its Cold Outside." In some ways, this song is "our song." It is THE SONG that everything in the house stops for. Everyone sings, mom and dad dance in the kitchen. Its fabulous, happy and fun! I would say that this songs loops on continuous play at our house far more than once during the holidays. It kind of defines the MaryB Christmas Experience.

On a related note, I would like to thank the cantor at the Cathedral, or the music director, or whoever is responsible for the fact that they sing Veni, Veni, Emmanuel - all the verses, in the Latin. A moving Advent reflection!

Past and Present

In the past: Dressed to impress or be validated by other women at a party

Now: Just want a "wow!" moment from Rich.

Does aging breed insecurity?

Weekend Re-cap and a Weighty Question

**First of all - Sorry for publishing unfinished post! I'd still swear that I hit save, not publish!**

Weekend was pretty darn good. Parent-Teacher conferences on Friday went smoothly. My children are brilliant and well behaved, but one of them is terribly unorganized. No shock there. Tell me something I don't know! Later in the evening, Rich and I did some furniture shopping and then stopped for a drink or two. I should have not had the "two." Bad, Bad, Bad idea. I don't know if the bartender slipped something in my drink or what, but lets just say Friday night will go down in the history books as one of my very worst nights ever. At some point I decided the cooler night air felt better so I went to sit outside for a bit only to have Rich come to find me an hour later saying, " I really think sleeping on the front porch is not a classy option." Thus, I have concluded my yearly refresher session of "Why MaryB never has more than one drink." I am a lightweight. I take Children's Claritin, Tylenol, and Motrin for Pete's sake! The silver lining to this Friday night cloud is that my net calorie consumption was definitely a big, fat zero.

Jamie had a tennis tournament on Saturday, but did not have to play his first match until 11am! Meaning, of course, that we got to sleep in! I LOVE waking up without some obnoxious beeping or buzzing jarring me awake. I am also getting spoiled by the fact that Rich is finally senior enough to hold lines with weekends at home. **knocking on wood** So, waking up with a husband to no alarm clock = bliss! The weather was lovely so long as you were in the shade and there was plenty of shade because the match was at TCU where trees line all of the courts. I packed up a cooler of drinks and snacks, my folding chairs, and a big blanket. It was really nice. Jamie was nervous as this was his first time to play in the boys 14 bracket, but was so happy to be doing it on his home turf and his coaches in charge of the tournament. He made it to the semis despite the fact that some of the boys looked like grown men. Meanwhile, Connor had his second session of First Tee. Guys, if you have children, I can not stress enough how wonderful this first Tee program is!!! Look into it, really! I think of it as junior cotillion taught through the medium of golf. Especially if you have a shy child or a child who lacks self-confidence, or if you just want a child with a winning attitude - this program is great!!! AND it is cheap!!!! Unfortunately, I have no pictures to share because I turned on the camera to take some pictures only to discover that my memory card was full.

Sunday was a day of exercising, furniture shopping, and general housekeeping. The weekly event of the Sunday night uniform laundry was made much more exciting by the start of new seasons for Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters. Oh, my love, lust, and obsession with Rob Lowe knows no bounds. I'll be his nanny any day! I love him any way I can get him, but his character on this show makes my knees even weaker than usual. His voice unnerves me.

As I climbed into bed, I grabbed two more letters from "the box." I am more than half-way through reading all of the letters ( I told you there were A LOT!). I usually grab two letters from the box as I climb into bed. I grab randomly and out of order so I never know what I'm going to get. I suppose that I should have ordered them by date and then read them like a story. Oh well.

Here is what I find strange. He was so effusive in his declarations of love and devotion back then. What happened to that? Yes, yes, I know that kind of drunk-love loses out to everyday life and normalcy at some point. But really? The person who wrote those letters and the man I live with are NOT the same person. So, being the idiot that I am, I asked him about it. His reply? That he loves me more now than then. Huh? Really?

So, I have been mulling this over and here are my thoughts that are actually questions for you all... After 13 years does the phrase, "i love you" lose some of is lustre? Have you heard it so much that you cant really accept it for the true depth of its meaning anymore? Does he think the same thing about me, that I do not have the same passion and love for "us" and him as I did back then? Because, really NOTHING could be FURTHER from the truth. I always just assumed that he was VERY clear on the fact that he makes me crazy, drunk-in-love with him. I think that I go out of my way to make it clear. The only difference between back then and now is that there have been times in the past 13 years that I could have killed him with my bare hands. (e.g. here!) In the end, it all makes me love him and us more. How do you all find new ways of letting your man know you love him? And he for you? AND, remember my MOM reads this blog so if you know her and don't want to blush next time you see her, you might want to edit or email me your comments... If you don't know her in real life, then what do you care? Comment away! And, really, I don't think much shocks her anyway. Seriously, she has ME for a daughter.

AAWWWW, You Guys...You're the Best!

You guys....you are the best, really you are. It brought a literal mist to my eyes to get all the phone calls, email, and comments inquiring as to my whereabouts and well-being!

Unfortunately, I am still not really in the state-of-mind to blog. Just in a plain ol', old-fashioned funk. I have tried to work through said funk by writing about it, but it is so vague that there is nothing TO write. I just can't put my finger on what is causing it! Basically, it is everything and also nothing. Have you ever felt like that? I'm sure you have.

Also, I am short on time lately. Holy Hell! the PTO owns me. Maybe it is because the somewhat OCD part of me takes over and "good enough" is NEVER enough for me. And there is just ALWAYS another event to plan or group to organize or spreadsheet to create. Currently, I am entrenched in planning a Johnny Appleseed back-to-school family dance. The details, while interesting and adorable to me, would bore you to tears.

Lastly, the traveling husband has been home more than is typical lately. It has been nice, but he requires my time when he is here - hence, less time for blogging. (And Ill tell you a secret...I must be accustomed to his being gone so often, because he was starting to drive me Ca-razy and I was not too very sad to see him depart for a few days this morning!)

I'm still keeping up with all of you and your more-interesting-than-mine lives though! so, even if I'm not actually writing here, Ill at least try to be better about commenting. It just seems to require SO much energy...ugh, see what I mean? I am in such a funk that I think it takes too much energy to comment! WTH?

Oh, and, tonight is the first night that I've had to wait up for my suddenly-a-teenager to come home. He went to the high school football game with his friends and his friends' older siblings. I guess this is where IT starts!!!!!! EECK! Wasn't it just five minutes ago that I was tying green and gold ribbons onto my ponytail before a high school football game on a Friday night?

What Is Wrong With Being Purple????

Now, if you have a problem with my purpleness because I am a dinosaur and my every utterance is in a sing-gong annoying tone, then fine. Hate at will.

HOWEVER, I checked in the mirror. While I am definitively having a very bad hair day, I am most assuredly not a dinosaur. I also almost never sing.

So WHY does my purpleness seem to offend all my friends so? My red friends are annoyed by me, as are my blue friends. It is as if they would be less annoyed if I stood firmly on the side opposite of theirs. I don't get it. They liked me more back in '04 when I hated both parties offerings of leadership. Now that I have two prospects to be guardedly excited about, they are frustrated by me.

I think I'm just going to feign ignorance and stick to topics like baking, fashion, and celebrity gossip. But, I'll be wearing purple inside and out. Eggplant is THE color this fall, ya know?

Lesser Moments in Parenting; You Can't Kill a Chicken That's Already Dead!

I have a temper. A big, bad one. I have learned over the years how to contact my inner "zen" when i feel myself losing it. However, there is one topic that causes me to blow my top every. single. time. My husband has an annoying way of belittling my housekeeping skills. I am not the best at it. But, I like it to be clean and orderly and I am my own worst critic. I beat myself up about it all the time. I am a VERY busy person. I have three kids and a husband who is perpetually traveling. You might be able to imagine how much it makes me crazy when he saunters home from a trip in a hotel room to let me know how I could be doing things better around here. Ya know? AS IF he has a fllippin clue as to how to run things around here or how crazy it is on a day to day basis. Even on the few times I have left him in charge I come home to homework not done, bedtimes ignored, and sometimes a mess in the kitchen. Weekends he's in charge - I leave meals to eat, school project supplies purchased and organized with a plan for the project...let's just say he doesn't get the REAL picture of what it is like to be me! And, he has this completely DELUDED notion that he is the only one in the house who picks up after himself and he is rather sanctimonious about it. This makes my head spin in rapid circles while levitating above my neck because he has NO IDEA how many things of his I pick up and put away on a daily basis. I could explain this topic forever, but that is not the point today (although it is always the point of every irritating thought in my head!). Long point made short - his commenting on housework makes me mad as hell.

One night a few years ago, I was already in a bad mood due to children being irritating and especially needy. The house was a mess. I had had a hell of a day. We had just moved here and I was homesick and had no friends. I was making dinner. It was probably something yummy, but I don't remember what it was. I was managing dinner, homework, and at that point Grant was still a new walker and was toddling around behind me whining and clutching my legs while I tried to bustle around the kitchen. There was a package of chicken breasts on the counter. One of the packages in the styrofoam trays. Rich enters the house and proceeds to criticize my parenting, my homework tutelage, etc, etc....I'm obviously pissed, yet he just keeps right on. I think I even warned him to cut it out! Then, he did it...He stared asking me in some condescending, sing-song way about every thing on the counter. Fight started. Game on.

I was so irate that I think I honestly blacked out. I remember feeling dizzy and woozy my head was spinning so fast. My ears were literally hot. I was getting ready to slice the chicken breasts with a big knife. Finally, I was ready to hurt someone or throw something. Somehow this rage turned into me screaming at him to "JUST!! SHUT!! UP!!!! I! HATE!! YOU!!" while I stabbed the chicken over and over with the big knife. Next thing I know, I see Jamie and Connor (ages 9 and 6) cowering in the corner, whimpering, "she's killing the chicken...." I had scared the crap out of them. I feel very badly about it to this day. It was DEFINITELY a lesser moment in parenting. It got worse. Later, when trying to apologize to everyone for my inexcusable behavior I tried to justify part of my behavior by rationalizing that you can't kill something that is already dead. (told Rich privately that he should be damn happy there was chicken on the counter or he might have been at the end of my knife instead of the chicken) However, it is pretty funny around here when people use the chicken as a warning. Just the other day, Rich and I were bantering about politics (when aren't we?) and Jamie says, "Dad, I think you'd better cool it or she's gonna kill another chicken." And, whenever Rich helps cook (and by help, I mean take things out of the refrigerator when I ask, because seriously, I'm not sure he can boil water) if there is chicken anywhere to be seen, he will point to he chicken and say, "you boys better behave or the chicken's gonna get it!"

Are you all afraid of me now?

Bye-Bye Birdie -OR- Why Don't I Know and Live Close to MoMommy? -OR- My Damn Bleeding Heart Husband -OR- I Don't Even like Dogs!

What a weekend! Saturday morning found mom and dad sleeping in. It was heavenly. Not long after getting out of bed, Grant came running in the front door to inform us that, " Daddy, Daddy! There are baby birds on the sidewalk Really, really, BABY birds." And we were all, "grumble, mmhmm,, grumble, coffee, creamer, uh-huh." Then, Jamie came in to back up Grant informing us that Grant was not exaggerating, there were, in fact, two brand-new birds on the sidewalk and that only one was alive. The kids were not giving this up so Rich went out to investigate. Grant followed closely behind him. Next thing I know, Rich was back inside calling down the hallway that, "we have a problem." The problem became apparent when I came out of my room to find Rich in the hallway with a tiny, tiny, baby bird in his hand. I said something along the lines of, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" He said, "I know, I know, but Grant was there kneeling next to me and when the bird opened its beak, Grant looked up and said, 'he's huu-ngree, Daddy' " he continued that, "Furthermore, it was OUR cat who ingested the bird's mother and brother." And THAT is how I ended up making a baby bird incubator out of a heating pad, tupperware, and paper towels, and making baby bird Karo water and baby bird food out of soggy cat food. (You all see the irony in THAT one, right?)



As it turns out, you have to feed a baby bird like EVERY TEN MINUTES for at least 12 hours a day! And, also, they poop. A LOT. I was none too happy about all of this and assumed that the bird would give up the fight in a short while. Nope. Bird is still alive. I told Rich that apparently the bird was viable and that I was in NO WAY going to raise a bird for 3-6 weeks until it could fly (we figured out by looking on line that the bird was between 5 and 7 days post hatch.) all the while feeding it every 30 minutes....Not to mention IT IS JUST GROSS and should not be in my house. He checked around and Animal Control said they knew of some private rehabilitators that could care for it. Animal Control came and picked it up just a few minutes ago. What do you think the chances are that they are totally blowing sunshine up our rear ends and that there are no rehabilitators and that they just killed it??? Because now I'm like all sad and shit. Damn baby bird, I didn't even like you. You were UGLY and weird looking, but now I'm sad they might kill you.



Good Luck Baby Bird. You were kind of cute in your own hideously ugly way.

Truer Words Never Spoken

A friend of Connor's came to pick him up to take him to his class's Back-to-School party tonight. His mother is very nice and she is fascinated by the pilot marriage lifestyle. She is constantly (like to the point of being annoying) telling me how she "could not do it!" she "doesn't know HOW I do it!" and that I am her "hero" and "amazing!" It is all very sweet. Really, it is. I'm not gonna say that I don't like the praise. I usually respond that,"Well, I've never known anything different." Today, she was gushing more than usual after a week of PTO craziness. She only saw the results. She didn't see the behind-the-scenes pictures of my house going to hell in a hand basket, or the laundry piling up higher than Mount McKinley, or the amount of fast food crap my children ate during the insanity that was my week. She once again said, " I just don't know how you do all that you do!"

Connor looked up at her and said, "Sometimes she just doesn't."

That, my friends, is EXACTLY HOW I do it...Sometimes I just DON'T.

Go Sell Crazy Someplace Else - We're All Stocked Up Here!

It has been my experience that making friends can be much like looking for a job. The problem with this is that sometimes, no matter how qualified an applicant you may be, there are no positions open.

I have decided that this is my problem here. Fort Worth is much like my hometown. It is a city whose residents are fiercely loyal to it. They grow up here, go away to college and then return as soon as is prudent with regards to their careers. This is especially true in the older Fort Worth neighborhoods. I would say that somewhere between 50 and 85 percent (closer to the upper figure!) of my neighbors grew up in this neighborhood or in a nearby Fort Worth neighborhood. They have an abundance of friends and family. I suppose this is one of the downsides to my insistence upon living in town v. the 'burbs.

There are many people I see on an almost daily basis. They are really nice to me. We laugh, we chat. It is good. I think this kinda' makes us "friends" more than just "acquaintances." However, this has not, as of yet, in 3 years, developed into an invitation to lunch or to anything else. I think that they like me, they really do, but all the positions in their circle of friends are filled. They are not looking for applications, no matter how great my resume may be.

You guys have any suggestions? This is new territory for me. In military land, everyone was in the same boat. We all had friends scattered all over the globe and we all needed some girlfriends in our present location. I think we were always accepting applications and handing out resumes. I am unsure as to how to navigate the friend market here. Is there a temp agency I should contact? Like a Manpower for friends or something?

Its Official! Straight from the Couch!

Let's get the awkward part out of the way...I've been seeing a therapist, okay? You would too if you moved to Texas.


First things first, I must think of something to call Ms. Therapist because therapist is too creepily formal. How about ShrinkyDink? An ode to arts and crafts of the 70s and 80s.


So, in "visiting" with ShrinkyDink, I may have discovered my personal "WHY" of blogging. This "WHY" question seems to be a prevalent blog topic, and I, not really one to contemplate the "why's" of things, never understood the prevalence. (Could I use a few more quotation marks? Is the quotation mark going to replace the ellipsis as my favorite punctuation mark?)


It seems that "pickings are slim" for friends here in Cowtown. (again with the quotation marks - but it is a quote of exactly what she said!) Yes, I have social acquaintances and such, but only one real friend and she likes to accuse me of being OC and anorexic which is getting OLD. The SAHMs here seem to like to participate in the big game of Competitive Parenting. A game in which I refuse to play. I am used to having a non-judgemental, open-minded, fun, and worldly bunch of girls. They were(are!) self confident, accomplished women who didn't need to hide behind their children or tear other people down to make themselves seem bigger. 'Round these here parts, it seems, all those types work outside the home. Thus, I am left seemingly alone to deal with those who choose to compete and live vicariously through their children. Ugh!

Eureka!!! This must be why I blog! So, if you are a real life friend 'o mine from one locale or another, you should be honored. Apparently I blog because I miss your smart and witty repartee!

Professional Advice from ShrinkyDink: Keep blogging or I will lean more and more on poor 'ol Rich who will be all, "Ugh! Woman! Space!! Please! Can't Breathe!"

Is There a Tear in Your Beer?

Why am I such a sap? It doesn't really jive with the rest of my personality.

Today on the way home from taking the kids to school Kid Kraddick in the morning (OMG! They are HILARIOUS!) was counting down the top 10 Graduation/Class songs of all time. They played clips of them all. Those songs could make you cry at any given moment. Damn those songs! Especially Time of your Life by Greenday.

But then I almost drove off the side of the road laughing when I remembered that my high school boyfriend's class song was There's a Tear in My Beer by Hank Williams, Jr.. Gotta love Catholic High!

Do all those sappy graduation songs and this time of year make you wistful and melancholy? Is it just me? What songs make your eyes a little misty? Tell me! Make me feel less like an aging, emotional freak wishing to reclaim my youth!

A Timely Reminder

Backstory: I live in Texas. Country music is inevitable, so just shut it! Okay? (and, before el-e-e outs me, yes, I listened to it in high school too when we were both dating baseball players.) Also, the end of the school year is always INSANE. It is like there is this last big push to cram in some more mega-learning and project intensity to force one more big lesson in time management.

Anyway, life has been insane. Hormonal early teen, lots of projects, home remodeling, Rich's schedule is crazier than usual.

I heard this* on the radio yesterday. My perspective was totally different the rest of the night. If you are a mom, I highly suggest putting this on your i-pod for times when you wonder "Can this day just be over already?!?!"

I'd like to elaborate, but the song says better than I could how it felt to be discusssing if Jamie would inherit Rich's accord in two years or not...

* sorry for the cheesy video, couldn't think of another place to link to.

A Classic Example of My Overthinking

It is a total coincidence that both my husband and one of my friends have, in different circumstances, felt the need to explain to me "who they are." You know, like a therapist or someone would have you define yourself? What is interesting to me is that they used nouns to describe themselves. Things like father, pilot, sister, mother. You get the idea, yes? I never realized it, but when asked to introduce/define myself or think about who I am or want to be, I always use adjectives like insanely loyal, feisty, thoughtful, obsessive, etc... What does this mean? How would you describe yourself? Nouns or adjectives?

NEVER...

...is exactly the last time I heard the words "last call" two nights in a row.

Photographic evidence of 8 hours of deteriorating class:

Aren't we lovely? ( However, I have to say that while I LOVE my Bare Minerals, I am noticing that they do not photograph well when a flash is involved.) My dress is now my prized possession. I have never bought anything off the rack that fit like it had been custom tailored to fit only me. Somebody needs to be throwing some parties or something so that I can wear it again pronto!

I love my SusannaBanana, and I also love pear cider at the Saucer.

After some more pear cider my cheeks get red. And, he said he would take our picture if he could take a picture with me too. The resulting hours of talking politics and religion and life with two people (who talk mostly to my boobs (thank you Victoria for sharing your secrets!!)) who are still so young and so idealistic that their world is still all black and white is made bearable, and in fact entertaining, with more cider.

How many martinis does it take before Susan turns into a possessed leprechaun?

There are no pictures from night two because you cannot stop singing, dancing, clapping, and laughing long enough at the Dueling Pianos to bother with the camera. (should have though!) And, it was so dark and chill in the Scat Jazz club that it would have ruined the atmosphere to shock everyone with a camera flash.

I'd love to tell you more, but, um, well, my mother reads this blog, and have I mentioned that my father is a deacon? Also, it would involve an actual candidate for US Congress. Let's just say that "Stella" got her groove back.

Still don't much feel like writing, but I also feel left out of the blogging fun. Strange irony I know. So, as a solution, I'll show you where I've been for the past week and tell you that I highly, highly recommend a vacation sans cell phone, laptop, internet, and TV!!! I never thought Id say that, but it does do wonders for the soul...you should try it.