The Texas Mama

Living in a small southern town has a lot of advantages. Sure, you may wanna lock your doors at night, but your elderly neighbor notices that you haven’t been around in a few days and kindly calls your cell while you are out of state on vacation just to make sure everything is ok and to let you know he’s been keeping an eye on the place. Towns here in Texas definitely do have a certain charm to them.

Especially if you just let go of your pride and accept the fact that you are, indeed, a redneck. It is a state of being that I have long denied in myself. But I am ready to come out and say it, finally after years of denial: I AM a redneck. There. I have said it.

As the years go by, the fact that I am a redneck seems to be manifesting itself more and more. And while I would like to blame it on my husband, its not all his fault.

True, he put me in a big ol’ Super Duty Turbo F250 Lariat with a 6 inch lift on it. But it was me who actually likedit. I surprised even myself with my love of that monster of a truck. I liked the power I felt from behind the wheel of a truck I could do almost anything in.  You know, in case the need for me to go off-roading into a ditch in order to save some from the jaws of death. Or more likely, the occasional Texit (that’s a Texan Exit- meaning you just bail off of the freeway in your truck wherever you please, illegally) when my patience with traffic had reached its limit.

I enjoyed the surprised look that I got from men when I literally jumped out of my truck. I suppose a blond 25 year old mother wasn’t who they were expecting to be driving a truck like that, and I got a kick out of it. Driving that truck was an eye opening experience for me. I went from denying my redneck status to proud acceptance.  No longer am I hiding who I really am- my true self.

I now sport my big highlighted blond hair, hiked up boobs, cheap heels from Payless, and too tight jeans that create a huge muffin top with PRIDE. Texas redneck pride.  I can really let go now- no more stopping myself from using words like “ya’ll” and “fixin’ to”.  That’s what we here in Texas say when we are getting ready to do something, for all you who don’t speak Texan. Who am I kidding? Heck, I even like saying “get her doooone!”!

Yeehaw, ya’ll!

Helping out at the shop a few weeks ago made me realize how much I love my job and how much I don’t want to leave my days as a stay-at-home mom behind. Sure, the hours often times suck, but it’s a really good job. I just cannot stress how happy it makes me to be a stay-at-home mom. I literally spend all my time with Hali- most of the time within a few yards of her. And while this can often times become a complaint, it is a blessing.

Before we got married, Jeremy and I talked about our future often and about our plans for a family. We both agreed without any debate that I would be a stay-at-home mom when we started our family. There was never even any question about it- it was just what was going to happen.

And while it would have potentially made things easier on us financially, I have truly never worked outside the home since Hali was born.  We were so extremely poor when Hali was first born. We had just started a business and it simply wasn’t bringing in enough money (new businesses in general aren’t going to bring much in for the first year or two). But we persevered, and have been blessed for it.

Jeremy and I derive a lot of satisfaction from the fact that I am and always have been at home to take care of our girl. I know there are women who, when asked what they do, don’t really feel as pleased with themselves as they should when they answer that they are a stay-at-home mom.

I used to feel like it wasn’t enough, and would try and act as if my role in helping Jeremy with our business was a little larger than it really was. But by the time Hali was a couple of years old, I figured out that I really was proud of myself and of my husband because of the fact that I was able to be at home all the time, concentrating on raising our daughter. I really found myself in that identity of simply being what I was.  I wasn’t embarrassed to say ” I stay at home with Hali”. I didn’t feel the need to tack on other things to my job title, after all, mine was an important, all-consuming, difficult job. 

Looking at the road ahead, it is difficult for me to imagine life once Hali is in school. I feel like once she is in school I should find some way to contribute financially. Which means a job.  Starting over in the professional world after what will be over five years at home is a scary thought to me. What will I do? Who will hire me? Will I be able to find a job that enables me to be home whenever Hali is? Will it be something I truly like? Should I also go back to school? Will that help me get a better job that meets my requirements?

Just thinking about it stresses me out and makes me sad to think that I won’t be able to call myself a stay-at-home mom for much more than another year. We are constantly arriving at new stages in life- especially at this early point in our time as a family. The next one will be the upcoming year of preschooling at home. It’s the stage after that I’m worried about. It’s going to be a bg change for me, and one I am glad I have another year to get used to the idea of, because right now, I don’t even want to think about it.

It’s 2:00 a.m, and I am still all kinds of angry on behalf of Loralee. She has had the unfortunate experience of being plagiarized. By a woman who apparently has made a habit of it, as we discovered that she has stolen from at least two other fellow bloggers. You can read all the back story here, in Loralee’s entry and comment section.

 American Sweatpants wrote a wonderful piece that was apparently too good not to steal.

As was Chelsea’s review of A New Earth.

There may be more, but I am tired of looking. Archives have been saved, so we shall see. The truly unfortunate part (well, aside from that stealing is a crime and very bad and morally wrong) is that she LIED about it. She tried to pass it off as someone else’s fault. Obviously, this thief has issues. How unfortunate for those who’s words she stole that they got involved in her problem.

Loralee was, while angry, pretty understanding about it, even in her anger. I just hope that things are righted as they should be and that no more people have been stolen from. What a night.

And shame, shame SHAME on you, you dishonest person- stealing from people like that. And involving other websites- I hope you understand the possible legal ramifications of your actions- and if what you say about your future plans is true, then you should understand all too well.

Fortunately for us, we live just a couple hours from the beach.  We can easily drive down Saturday morning, spend 3 or 4 hours there, then drive back home with time to spare. Last weekend was our first trip to the beach this summer.  Last summer we went three times, the summer before that only once or twice.  We all enjoy ourselves immensely each time we go.  It will bring out the kid in any adult. 

Hali is, without a doubt, the highlight of the trip each time.  Just watching her experience everything is thrilling for me.  As I watch her run out of the waves and for no apparent reason, flop on her little belly like a beached whale in the sand as the tide is coming in, I find myself laughing out loud.  The family under the umbrella next to ours probably thought me to be a crazy woman, the way I kept randomly laughing out loud. 

Watching her rediscover the magic of the waves that constantly threaten to knock her tiny body over never fails to bring our family even closer together.  As parents we are nearly experiencing the novelty of it all through her eyes. Besides the three pounds of sand, sunburns, and precious memories that we bring back home with us, every trip to the beach bonds us a little closer together.

I don’t know what kind of elusive magic it is that the ocean water saturates us with, but it’s therapeutic qualities are undeniable.  We return home relaxed, physically exhausted, ravenous, and content.  Recharged in a way. 

So, in case you didn’t notice, here we are. Mom and Me is no more. I am now The Texas Mama, which was my website url.  The Texas Mama is now powered by wordpress. It is combined with the craft blog that I had started last year.

The header needs work. I threw up a bad quality picture of some recycled paper notebooks I made a few months ago just for the sake of having something there. I am about to flex my artistic muscles and see what I can do about that. I took several years of art classes as a teenager, so it’s been a while, but I think with a little practice, I can get back in the groove.  All of which means lots of “drawing time” with Mama, so Hali will be a happy girl!

Categories still need to be imported from the old blog. The blogroll needs changing. The page needs a ton of tweaking, which means I need to get a couple of books on css from the library tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes…

I haven’t blogged since Valentine’s Day. It feels like longer. There was a lot of turmoil and inner conflict going on. Wailing and gnashing of teeth. That sort of thing.

So. Along with our recent move, other things are changing as well. Including this blog. I was about to just let it go. But I realized that I need it.  I have found that I have forgotten a few things. Others are very hazy. Things like my daughter’s infancy. One should never EVER forget these things!

I love the blogging community.  I think I would just feel like a loser if I called myself a part of it yet didn’t have a blog myself. Not that you ARE a loser if you don’t blog, but….

So I will be combining this blog with my also neglected craft blog. I will be giving this blog an overhaul.  And the word ‘blog’ will no longer be part of the url. Yay! That’s pretty much it for now. I’ll set things up here, then start explaining just what has been going on!

Random picture: Frog mask from craft store, meet acrylic paint and Hali and her Mama. The pink dots were all Hali’s idea. She did the basic painting of colors then I went in with a fine paint brush in an attempt to sharpen things up. And make it even MORE girly by adding those ridiculous eyelashes!

It’s that time of winter. Time to dig out the razor. I am pretty sure I had it out in December around our anniversary. I’m also pretty sure it’s been unpacked by now (most of the house is, thank you very much).

Valentine’s Day takes on a whole new connotation when you have kids. Or in our case, a Hali.  Gone are the days of romantic evenings waiting for an hour or more to get into some national chain that calls itself a restaurant.  Gone are the days of greeting the husband in sexy lingerie when he comes home from work.  Gone are the nights of,well, you know what comes next.

No, we are fat married people with a child now. Valentine’s Day usually goes something like this:

-Hali and I make scrumptious deserts to ensure that her parents’ waistlines don’t shrink any.

-Valentine’s Day crafts of many varieties going on to keep Hali happy and entertained while we are on our all day sugar high.

-Make a nice(ish) dinner for the three of us

-Jeremy comes home brandishing gifts for Hali and I. Last year, I got a toaster. I feel it’s safe to assume this year will be better.

-I force kindly ask Jeremy if he would either clean up after dinner or give Hali a bath so that we might have  five minutes after she is asleep and before we fall asleep in which we may celebrate the holiday properly as adults.

-He whines. I whine and glare. He rolls his eyes, grabs Hali and head upstairs.

-Hali finally falls asleep after a whole day of consuming sweets.

-The romantic feeling of the day? Not so much by now.

Pessimistic? Maybe. Realistic? Oh ya. I know I am not alone here.  I suppose when your kids are older things are a bit better. You can probably just lock them in their rooms with a box of matches to keep them busy for the night and only feel marginally bad about it later.  But by then, the husbands have gotten used to not being forced or guilted into being romantic for the one entire night a year where it is actually expected. It’s a lose-lose situation really.

We are moving AGAIN. That’s right. After being in our home, which still feels brand new, for a whopping SIXTEEN months we are moving again.  I counted last week, and this will be my 17th home. Seven of those are in the past 6 years- since we’ve been married. And my dad wasn’t in the military. Neither is my husband.

Jeremy has, however, been making a longish commute every day since last spring when he started managing someone else’s shop instead of his own.  So we’ve decided to move to be closer to the new job. This is fine, because we used to live just down the street from there and we love the area anyways. The area is really an up and coming area- the Target is nearly done and EVERYTHING! Do you pronounce Target by its French pronounciation? You must. Tarsssshay!

Moving is a horrible, horrible thing. I tried to have a garage sale this past weekend. TRIED. It was freaking COLD (well, for Texas it was) and it rained the entire day before. The husband decided he didnt’ want to do it. A friend that was going to do the garage sale with me decided not to. So I canceled. Anyone want a bunch of my old crap fabulous items that are lightly used and some brand new with the tags still on and everything?

Due to a little road trip we made Sunday, I was stuck in a huge lifted deisel truck that makes you down right nausous when you ride in it and try to eat. With Jeremy and Hali. That means listening to the combined sounds of a Dora the Explorer DVD and old time “classic” country music. As a result, two days later I still have a song about underage drinking stuck in my head- “make you wanna say ‘HIIIIDY- HO!’… burns your tummy, don’t ya know…”

Moving involves a LOT more than packing up your stuff and moving it, ya know. There are nail holes and scratches on the walls to be fixed so we get our deposit back. You have to switch all your utilities, change your address with everyone, have your mail forwarded just in case, and set up all the necessaries for the new house.

And I swear, if I get stuck on the phone with one more person with such a strong Indian accent that I can barely understand them at best, I will lose it. I am already THIS close. Woe be unto you who move, for you will inherit the stress of it all. If I hadn’t lost so much hair last summer and if I wasn’t so vain, I would be pulling my hair out.  Well, that and OUCH! Plus, that takes time, and I don’t really have time to stand around and scream as I pull out my long stands.

I have been without my sewing machine for about a month and a half. It is KILLING ME!!! I am just dying to get started on so many projects. We are moving in a few days and I will NEED my sewing machine. There are pillows for my new couch I will be buying to be made.  There will be window treatments to be sewn. There are window seats in the new house that will need to be outfitted with cushions. SO much to do!

 Luckily, I will finally be able to drop my beloved off at the nearest service center. Which isn’t exactly so near. It’s a good 45-60 minutes away. Luckily, we are going on a small road trip this weekend and can drop it off on our way through.

 Picking it up may be a problem. The shop is in Houston and I. Do. Not. Drive. In. Houston. But my dear husband knows how much I love my machine. He has even actually liked some of the things that have been produced with The Machine. So, it may require exhausting sexual favors bribery of some sort, but I will hopefully be able to have my machine repaired and returned to me in a timely manner.

Meanwhile, I will just lust after all the pretty things that all the talented seamstresses and sewing talents out there are making.  And continue to lovingly caress my favorite fabrics in my stash. Poor things.

A few months ago we were really struggling to get back into the routine of things. Our days just didn’t go as smoothly as they normally should.  This seems to happen to us after the holidays and also the end of August/beginning of September.

 It is so important for toddlers (and their moms) to know what is next. Most of our toddlers, smart as they may be, can’t read or tell time yet.  So, I found this general idea somewhere (???) and with a few changes, made it into our very own giant daily clock. 

This is on the wall just outside my daughter’s room, and it is about a two and a half feet diameter circle.  Using a couple pencils and some string (a homemade large protractor), I drew a big circle on some brown shipping/craft paper that I picked up for a dollar at the local dollar store.

We cut it out, then drew in the numbers around the circumference of it, just like a real clock.  I picked out a few images from Microsoft Word’s clip-art (you can find tons of cute things all over the internet, though) and printed those up.  My daughter colored them, then cut them out with some craft scissors. We used some zig-zag ones that were handy, put you can use any kind of scissors.

We talked about each picture and what it represented as we colored and cut. Then, we layed the pieces out where they belonged on the “clock” and what time each activity would approximately occur.  Hali glued each piece down to the paper.  At this point you could even add some “hands” to your clock for extra fun- maybe even some that move so that your child can move them to each activity as the day progresses.

 Just to give you an idea of what we have put on our clock:

tv time, breakfast, get dressed, brush teeth and hair, play time, snack, reading time, lunch, chore time, dinner, bath time, etc.

Hali loves to go and point out what time is next in our day when I ask her what we should do next.  It helps her get moving during times when she is dragging a little bit, too.