to my dear and loving husband

have you ever--

1. made out in a cemetery in an un-airconditioned 1985 tempo?

2. found a coke machine that was accidentally set to sell at a nickel so you filled up bags and bags of cokes that you bought with change that you had in said tempo?

3. had someone tell you not to get your panties in a wad--on your wedding day????

4. lived in an apartment with a window unit and an oven that burned everything so you decided to grill everything on the tiny balcony on a tiny grill?

5. sat out on the back porch of your first house eating hamburgers and watching pecan leaves fall?

6. ran a marathon with someone who was running with you --to keep you going-- and had everyone concerned that that someone was going to need the sag wagon before you needed it?

7. really enjoyed a hammock, I mean really enjoyed it?

8. convinced someone that even though you were out of toilet paper you could still make a good parent?

9. seen someone almost get kicked out of the delivery room by the ob for being too good of a cheerleader?

well, I have done all of this and more with Hyphen. Happy Birthday dude.

Compare with me, ye women, if you can.

can you tell me how to get back to the 70s so I can watch the real sesame street?

So the other day someone asked me what Annabelle's favorite shows are, and I had no answer. Annabelle does not watch t.v. because to quote steel magnolias "there is nothing but trash and naked people on it." (ouiser was talking about movies, but same the sentiment is the same) Except we do watch the 7:30 hour of the today show, which at times is just as salacious as anything else, but I have a serious Matt Lauer addiction, so a little smut is okay. But my friend, who is the best mom ever, lets her little girl watch sesame street and since her little girl is super smart and sweet, I figured I'd give it a whirl.

The good thing about sesame street is that it keeps her entertained. I clean house for a bit while she watches it. And it can be fun to watch. Brian Williams was on the other day, acting ridiculous. He's no Matt Lauer, or even Tom Brokaw, but he's still kind of cute (I think I have a thing for serious journalists, and yes, Hyphen, you jealous jerk, Matt Lauer is a serious journalist) And some folk singer named Leslie Feist, who I now love.

The bad things about sesame street:

1. There is a chick with a nose ring. Umm, how am I supposed to tell my teenage, or 8 year old child that they can't get a nose ring when they can brilliantly counter "well So and So from Sesame Street (I am not sure of her name) has one!" Seriously, people have some consideration for the silent majority who don't want to ever have this conversation. Now, I know that this lady is Persian or Indian or something, and that the children's television workshop is trying to be inclusive, but can't we just go back to the time when Maria was the exotic one? Do we have to be so politically correct that we have nose rings on Sesame Street?

2. There is this segment where Elmo watches some video on a computer and it even has the little loading bar underneath the segment. Is this necessary? Why do kids, who soon enough are going to be glued to Internet (as I write my blog on it), have to pretend to watch YouTube on tv? Why can't they just be glued to tv? Which makes me wonder again, why am I even letting her watch this to begin with. She should be outside playing.

3. Murray had a little lamb. Cute segment, but it's Mary had a little lamb. And I hate the rap, see #4. "go murray, go, go, go murray." barf.

4. They changed the theme song to a rap version. Sacrilege. Seriously, I almost turned it off when I heard it. And there is no big happy dog running with kids. No harmonica. Ugh. It is enough to break your heart. Just another sign of the Apocalypse, as far as I am concerned.

Meanwhile, I am going to go to blockbuster to see if they have the Waltons on DVD.

Goodnight John-boy.

shaken auntie syndrome

My sister, who is pregnant with twins, Annabelle and I went to see the original and still fabulous Anna Belle Stevens (my grandmother) and the Bronte Bombshells (my aunts) this weekend. And we had a great time. Bronte is near San Angelo, which is about a 7 hour drive away.

Annabelle did great and had a wonderful time and was the perfect baby--except for last night. I want you to imagine the biggest mega atomic shit attack tantrum you can. Throw that out--that's kid's play. Now, I want you to imagine an asteroid, hitting the earth, and the earth exploding, and taking all of the planets with it, which in turn causes our solar system to rip apart, creating a cataclysmic black hole that eats up the entire univesrse. That is what we had last night. She went to sleep and then started coughing. So I made the mistake of checking on her which led to 3 hours of crying and playing alternatively--at one point she put her face next to mine and her finger to her mouth and said "shhhh, quiet." At the 2 and 1/2 hour point, I tried to hit the reset button and we read bedtime books and said prayers again and then I went back to the room where Auntie and I were staying, got in bed and listened to the scream "MAAAAMMMMAAAAA!!!!!!!!" for 20 minutes. Now, Auntie has three hearts right now, so the thought occurred to me that she might have and idea about what to do. She had been awake for some time--we were all awake, except my uncle who is deaf as a post. So I asked her "what do your developing mother instincts tell you I should do now?" She thought about it, and then said "hmmmm, shake the baby?"

I went back to the room and picked her up and cuddled her and eventually, she fell asleep, after crawling all over me and the bed and asking for her ba-pa and to go outside.

Someone remind me to have a CPS home study done on my sister in January, please?

[we joke, but never, ever shake a baby]

the home I grew up in...

I talk to my parents on the phone a lot. Sometimes, our conversations are me listening to them bicker. Tonight, my dad was complaining about my mom getting after him. Apparently, he "let" some mosquitoes in the car. I then asked to talk to mom.

Mom: what are you doing?

Me: Listening to daddy complain about you.

Mom (to dad): were you complaining about me? Did you think she wouldn't tell me? Go get me a dairy queen, cabron!

Dad: Go get it yourself!

Mom: Stupid

When my mom says stupid, it sounds like "stoopid" and she says it with such contempt, that you just want to die laughinig. It is her ultimate insult. These are the people I love. Bless their little hearts.

san antonio trip

match the statement with the grandparent:

a. granny b. ba-pa c. hieu' mom d. hieu's dad

1. ay, nombre! Enough mess annabelle!

2. Annabelle, what kind of jet are you going to fly? huh? an F-16?

3. Annabelle, you play like a boy, you are nothing like your daddy.

4. Lordy, that is a big dog (referring to Clifford, the big red dog)

Bonus: "Annabelle, give me that booger. If you give me that booger, you can have my phone" (at which point Annabelle leaned her head over for the removal)

On another note, at story time today, we learned the chicken dance. Annabelle stood there like a block for the first few rounds, and then she started to do it. It was hilarious. Now we just need to befriend a Polish or Mexican person and get invited to their wedding.

seriously, I cannot live with two of these people

Annabelle has developed an annoying habit. She is starting to clean things obsessively. The other night she was in the bathtub and there was some grime on the tub. Grime. Okay, I've put it out there, I have a grimey tub. Deal with it. The grime wasn't horrible, you couldn't scratch your name in it, but it was there. Annabelle got the washcloth and started to scrub it. She enjoys scrubbing the floors too (note: any mess on the floors is caused by Annabelle, so she should be cleaning it up, but seriously, I cannot live with two of these people). She has also learned to say mess, and she walks around from time to time saying "mess, mess" especially where there is one to clean up. Don't get me wrong, it's helpful and I am happy, but there can only be one hyphen in my life, that is all I can tolerate without substance abuse.

I am not a messy person. If I were married to Joe-Blow Ball Scratcher, he would think my housekeeping skills were amazing and would suggest I write a housekeeping blog. But I am not married to Joe. I am married to Hyphen. I bore his child. And now I am reaping what he sowed.

My friend said to be happy, because the only habits her son has picked up from her husband are burping and farting. Unfortunately, we are covered in this department as well.

Cell Phone+ Grandma= Run

Annabelle is not allowed to play with our cell phones. One- they are not toys. Two-she is curious and destructive and that doesn't mix well with small electronic devices. But Granny and Ba-pa are here. Which means that anything goes in the Annabelle department because they have no rules or discipline, at least where their grandchild is concerned. So Annabelle and Ba-pa were playing with his phone and having a grand time , until she tried to hyper-extend it and that is when Ba-pa realized that maybe his dear old daughter was smart to prohibit this behaviour. So now, I was stuck with the task of getting this beloved toy out of her grimy little hands. So here is how it went:

Me: "okay my sweet love, we need to give that toy to Ba-pa. It is a super-fun phone and I know it is going to be hard for you, but the time to play with it is over."

Annabelle gave me a look (see below) and then walked into the corner.

Me: "give that phone to Ba-pa please. be a good girl."

Sulky face.

Me: "okay, I am going to count to 5 and then I am going to come and take it out of your hand. The time to play with it is over. One, two, three, four, five."

As I walked to get it my mother said:

Mom: "Run Annabelle."

That's right. She said "Run."

I gave my mom an eat shit and die look(see above), but not where Annabelle could see (because I am trying to teach her to be kind and respectful to her elders) and got the phone. Then I took her in my lap.

Me: "That was very hard for you. That is a wonderful phone. And I know you like to play with it. But it is not for little girls and you are being such a dear sweet girl to give it to mama without fussing."

Mom: "Annabelle, when I say run, you need to run."

Yes, she did say that. My mom was the type of kid that got beat. A lot. But apparently not enough.

Lazy hazy crazy days of summer

So to be blunt--it's as hot as balls. It is so hot, you are almost a prisoner in your own house. It is hard when you have an outside baby that you can't take outside, because after 5 minutes I am miserable and she looks like she is having heat exhaustion. I woke up today dreaming about moving to Montana and living off the land and being cold. And then I felt ungrateful. In a few months there will be a cold snap that will be cold and dreary and although I will love it, eventually I will crave the warmth of summer. So I decided to make a list of the things I love about summer.

1. I like to sit in my bath tub at night and listen to the crickets. There are no crickets chirping in January.

2. Doves. I like to lie in bed in the morning and listen to the world wake up, and in the summer the doves really coo in the morning and that is a lovely peaceful sound that you don't get on the cold days.

3. Bobby Mcgee/Janis Joplin- this is the song by mom always used to play when school let out and we would go crazy dancing around the house and the song doesn't sound the same to me when I am bundled up in a coat. It is totally a flip-flops and cut-offs song.

4. Cicadas. I like to sit outside in the evening and listen to them and you can't do that in the winter.

5. Every summer since I was in the 4th grade I have read To Kill a Mockingbird. I love it and I can't read it any other time of year.

6. You can't go off a rope swing in the winter. You could, I guess, but you would freeze your tush off and it wouldn't be any fun at all.

7. Tomatoes. I know there is a God because he made tomatoes. And if you grow them yourself and pluck them off the vine one minute and eat them drizzled with olive oil salt and pepper the next you'll be a believer too. And if you don't grow them, the ones in the super market just seem to taste better in the summer. We had some tonight, sauteed with olive oil and garlic, sprinkled with basil and poured on top of a grilled ribeye. You don't get a meal like that any other season.

8. The evenings are the nicest in the summer. If you sit outside on a glider or a porch swing with a glass of wine after 7, you won't care about the heat index.

9. Kids don't play in the sprinkler in the fall or winter.

10. Flavor-pops. Annabelle had her first one today. We were on the deck sharing one--she would suck out all of the juice out of a chunk I handed her and then give it back to me, in the form of a smaller chunk of ice. I would then give it to my idiot dog, who, because she is an idiot, would gobble it up without missing the sugar. That experiece alone has been worth every triple digit day this season.

do you know the doo-doo butt?

My cousins and I all had babies at the same time. So back in February we went to one of the birthday parties and everyone was talking about what their kids' nicknames were. Reece was Reeceroo. Beau is Beau-Beau. James is Juggernaut. When everyone was sharing I was dreading what was coming next.

Random Cousin: what is Annabelle's nickname?

Me and Hyphen: "Doo-doo butt."

Hyphen said it with glee. I said it a little more dourly.

Hyphen gave her the name doo-doo butt at the hospital. He has an entire song about it, that is sung to the tune of do you know the muffin man "do you know the doo-doo butt?" He would sing her this song when she was a little baby and she would smile and coo. Ugh. I felt like I was in a losing battle against the worst nickname in the world. My dad's nickname for me is Stella-Pooh, because I am his Pooh bear. Obviously, I do not like the doo-doo part. Or the butt part.

A little girl pointed out to him once that it is not nice to say the word butt. No sweetie, it's not.

But Hyphen is nothing if not egalitarian in his offensiveness. Tonight he sang her the following song as he was loading her up in the van after a quick Target trip:

I am your doo-doo daddy
I like to doo-doo too
When I am old and blind
You will change my dirty poo.

The tune was a cross between 50s broadway and a march. Kind of catchy actually. It had some other verses, but the mind is kind and I forgot them.