And Then The Love Bomb Dropped…And It Was Massive

lovedrop katie

I guess the beginning is always the best part, right? A few posts ago I told you about my friend Katie who was the benefactor of this month’s Love Drop. (Once again, if you haven’t signed up, what are you waiting for? Spend a Dollar, Change a Life…really!)

My house was the drop spot for packages from all over the country for Katie since I live just a few minutes away. Box after box arrived with things she adores and notes filled with love and words of encouragement. Each box that arrived made my heart swell just a little bit larger for this wonderful group of bloggers I have been lucky to find myself in the middle of.

This weekend it was on like donkey kong. My house was full…six in all bunking here, running around like crazy getting ready, cooking and laughing and just being in the moment, something I all too often forget to let myself do. It’s really almost impossible to describe the sense of community that I felt all weekend so I’ll just let the pictures do the talking:

This is my sweet friend Katie:

This is Katie and her adorable babies at her Love Drop where she received a very nice check and lovely, wonderful gifts from all over the country from people who love her…and some that have never even met her….the Love Drop community is just that amazing:

These are the Love Drop guys, Nate and Jay.   Never in your life will you meet two more selfless people, totally devoted to changing the world for the better one person at a time.  I adore them:

Want a closer look at that Mohawk?   You got it:

Did I tell you my sweet friend Danielle Smith from Extraordinary Mommy stayed here too? She did.  I never get time to talk to her one on one at conferences, we made up for that this weekend:

And also the most wonderful Sarah from This Mom Is Wired who flew all the way from Michigan and my new friend Erica from Erica Says:

And of course, there was Alli from Allison Worthington Media, I love her. You know why? Because she is not afraid to lay on my dining room table and take pictures of her feet in my chandelier, that’s why:

At the end of the evening we all ended up in the hot tub   And no, no one really has devil eyes, I’m just too lazy to photo shop the picture. For real:

In the end, I saw a group of people gather together to do something really amazing for Katie who has done so much for other people throughout her life without asking for much in return.  We came together, we made a difference, we changed a life by flooding it with love.

Spend a dollar. Change a life.

It’s what all the cool kids are doing…and it’s so easy you should too.

PS:  A very special thank you to The Man for this who never broke a sweat when I told him we had two, then four, then six guests staying with us, most of whom he had never met.   Thanks babe for being so great this weekend.   You helped all of us to do something wonderful and made it fun in the process!

Love to all of you,


Get In Line…I’m A Contender For Mother Of The Year AGAIN

Last year I nailed it. None of you really had a chance after my performance in October of last year where I gave my son girls shoes to wear to school and then butchered my daughter’s hair. (And trust me, if you haven’t read this one? You want to. It’s a step by step guide to a future psychiatrist session for your kids.)

Today I mounted my campaign yet again. I’m going to tell you, I’m not a slam dunk yet as I didn’t torture both children but I’m warming up so you might just want to get your game on if you don’t want me going for a two-peat.

This week, my daughter is MVP of her third grade class. She’s held this esteemed honor one other time this year and it came with massive responsibility on my part. There were photos and letters to be sent, favorite books to be shared, all capped with a special in classroom lunch with her beloved teacher. I was full on win on all accounts and deliverables except that whole lunch thing. Miss G had cafeteria food that day which I was promptly told was a huge fail and would not be tolerated the next time.

Yeah, about that.

So she got MVP again and I immediately emailed said beloved teacher to ask what the heck I was supposed to do because I have slept since then and my children and job are driving me into early dementia and I can’t remember my own last name, let alone what I am supposed to do for such an auspicious occasion. (Also? Said children and job have driven me to forget the laws of punctuation so I now speak in the longest run on sentences in the history of ever.)


The teacher promptly emailed me back to let me know I didn’t need to do a thing since this was her second time around. Miss G would receive special recognition in class but beyond that I was free and clear.

Except….except…Miss G was not down with that. Not at all. She wanted her recognition and she wanted it in the form of chicken nuggets from Chick-Fil-A on her special lunch in the classroom with above referenced beloved teacher.

Okay, easy enough. I could bring chicken nuggets for her and her teacher. This was an easy negotiation.

Except….except…..I forgot.

And I didn’t remember until 3:30 in the afternoon. The Man had taken Miss G to the orthodontist to get her tune up on the metal currently occupying her mouth. I fully expected the phone call to be one where she excitedly shared her new wax colors with me. (Easter colors by the way, baby pink and blue, in case you were wondering.)

As you can imagine, that is not the report I received. Upon issuing my standard greeting of, “Hi Sweetie!” I was immediately barraged by a line of questioning so fierce and so demanding…and so squeaky voiced…I immediately sought cover under my desk.

It seems that I had forgotten the promise I made to her last night. And she? Stood in her classroom and waited for me to show up with those damn nuggets. And then she cried. And then she got her crappy (my words, not hers) cafeteria food.

And then I died a million tiny deaths and cried a few tears of my own.

The End.

A Funny Thing Happened This Weekend…

red paint

Make that a few funny things…

Saturday Afternoon:     Behold a rapping career taking off between Mr. C and his talented cousin Miss P at the second birthday party of my sweet nephew Baby J (trust me, it’s 36 seconds of pure awesomeness):

Sunday Morning:    While checking out my new twitter followers I realize that the Montessori school my children attended has started following me on twitter.   Ponder this for a minute since when I left I made it fairly clear I wasn’t exactly “pleased” with them. Further lament that people who don’t know how to tweet….shouldn’t.    Let’s take this one for instance which I read aloud to my husband:

“Did you grow up Montessori?  What do you remember best about your Montessori education?”

I mean really…really? Shameless self promotion without any useful information much? Thankfully The Man stepped in and promptly replied:

“I remember writing u checks every 4 months 4 NOTHING and then having u ask me 4 even more money for useless shit.   Is that 140 characters or less??

You have to love that kind of dedication to pay back. Which is to say, while Montessori might be great, we possibly did not have the best, or most frugal experience and it’s possible that The Man is still slightly bitter, or more accurately, a lot bitter.

Sunday Afternoon:    After spending six hours (yes, really) cleaning up from Spring Break upstairs, I noticed this, which is decidedly not funny.

Yep, it’s paint.  Red paint.  All over the play room carpet.   Apparently, someone under 5 ft. tall was trying to create a “red carpet experience”. The bad news is this formerly pristine carpet now joins the ranks of the rest of the upstairs white carpet which gives the appearance of having been a killing spot for many small animals. The good news is, should I need a red carpet moment, I can have one in the playroom. I just have to wear really small shoes.

#Winning … it’s the hashtag that defines my life.

How To Do It Up Right On St. Pattie’s Day

sp wine

I’m Irish.  I’m Oh So Very Irish. And this holiday?  Is one of my favorites.

Normally it falls in the middle of the week and with kids and schedules the day itself sort of falls by the wayside.   We wear green, we pinch each other, we eat or drink something green but it’s sort of a non event.  (I mean except for the parade the weekend before…)

This year was different.  St. Patrick’s Day fell right smack dab in the middle of Spring Break.   No bed time routines, no homework, no after school activities….only Irish greatness.  Bonus:  my husband’s sister and her family came to town.  I adore them.   Greatness!

Before they got here while I was cooking, it started with a little of this:

As soon as they arrived,I proceeded to decorate my children and my beautiful niece and nephew:

And finally after a delish dinner of corned beef cabbage and potato cakes, I sugared  those adorable kids up with this:

Yes, Green Cake.  With oodles and oodles of sugar so the children never ever go to sleep!   That cake is a holiday all by itself I tell you.

I hope your St. Patrick’s Day was wonderful, and I’d like to leave you with this Irish Blessing:

May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face.

May the rains fall softly upon your fields.

And until we meet again, my God hold you in the palm of His hand.


Much love,


Stay Classy Dallas…

st patties bewbs

This weekend was the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade.   It’s a rather wild event and if the weather is great, over 100,000 very silly and sometimes very drunk people fill the street on Greenville Avenue to watch homemade floats go down the street.

Every year since our kids were little, we’ve taken them to this debacle parade so they can absorb some local culture insanity…or at the very least, a glimpse into how fun their Mom and Dad used to be before kids.    This year, Mr. C had a life defining Pokemon event to attend and had to gracefully bow out of the festivities.    We toyed with the idea of not going but then Miss G put her tiny, sassy foot down and we had no choice but to do her bidding.    Tell me you want to argue with this kind of spirit:

As always there was some interesting fashion going on (side note, totally love how she is doing the international sign for “call me!” and probably swearing she doesn’t wear that skirt out on dates):

And also, some very creative ways to tote beverages.  Check out this guy with bandolier beer sling, you want to be prepared for these things people.   Also?  He made that himself.   I know that because I am exactly the type of person who will drag a dude down and force him to explain the contraption he is wearing all the while explaining to him that “I’m somebody on the internet…” and  his invention will be  famous greatly overlooked and forgotten:

But then there was this woman.   I don’t know her name but for the sake of this post, and for the sake of not getting one million perverts hitting my site off Google, let’s call her Teets Magee.

So yes, here you see her bewbs.  (Again, internet safety and protocol against icky hits, I has it.  Spell it the real way and you have visitors that will haunt your dreams from their search strings.)     And no, she was not wearing strategically placed Shamrocks.   I put those there to protect your innocent eyes.  I’m a giver. Every time a float would go by with beads being thrown out?   Out would come her bewbs.

I would not have noticed this but The Man practically threw a block tackle on me and was all, “OMG, do you see what is going on behind you???  Bewbs!!   BEWBS!!!!!” Because given the chance to see a pair of mammaries other than the ones he has been dealing with for the better part of twenty years and he goes nuts, that’s why.

(Let’s all just stop here and do a little damage control.   Miss G was not looking, nor did she see any of this.   She was up against a barrier, face forward looking at the floats going by, innocently waving and collecting beads and trinkets that will surely end up littering my house for the foreseeable future.)

Anyway, on and on she went.    Shirt up.  Shirt down.  Bewbs in.  Bewbs out.   And for what?    A bunch of beads that cost about five cents each.   At one point, my friend Liz sagely said, “There is a time and a place for everything.  This is neither.”  To which I replied, “The time and the place for my bewbs making a public appearance is never, unless I need to stun a group of public rioters into silence by flashing mine which could possibly be more effective than getting tazed.”…or something like that.   Anyway,  I kept my girls in their natural environment (steel supported lifts) and look what I scored!

Tons and tons of beads!   Five cent beads!  I could cash these in for at least a buck twenty!   Also, I do have a beer around my neck and my husband is wearing a Charlie Sheen shirt.   That is just how we roll people.

But then the bail bond truck came by, at which time Teets Magee went totally nuts…for this:

Yes, a bail bond koozie.

Here’s the funny thing, moments after that?  We never saw her again.   She just sort of disappeared.   Did she pass out in the truck?   No.   She did not.  I know this because being the great investigative journalist I am, I looked.  She just…vanished.  Poof!

My best guess is the law enforcement officials who were so prevalent in the crowd decided that it was not in the best interest of the crowd gathered for her to continue on in such a manner.     In my mind, she drunk dialed the bail bond number from the koozie and managed to free herself by at least early the next morning.   Or she ended up on the bathroom floor of the restaurant behind us.   Take your pick.

Hope you all have a wonderful St. Patties day wherever you are.

And remember, Erin Go Bra-Less is never a good idea.

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