Nice, huh? Now y’all can say all you want about my, *ahem*, personality but sometimes it does pay off in spades. After the sun set and we were thoroughly relaxed, we went to dinner. Ten points if you can figure out why I liked the name of this restaurant so much:

I love that the steak was heart shaped. Also, you should know that I spent the better part of dinner at this very nice restaurant working because nothing says I love you like clicking away on your blackberry all through dinner. I am all about the awesome, just ask my husband.

After taking a steak knife to my blackberry at the end of this romantic, relaxing, working dinner, our vacation really started.

Here’s the thing I didn’t know, Napa is every bit as relaxing as a beach. The manicured vineyards rolling by as you drive, sipping (no really…I sipped!) wine during the day, the laid back attitude of everyone up there, it is simply heaven on earth. At some point on day one I’m fairly sure I forgot I had children (pfft…ignore that sobbing mess you read about in the previous two posts) and really let myself get into the one thing I had set out to accomplish, learning to really love red wines.

We toured several vineyards but one was my favorite and our most interesting experience. On the first day, thanks to an old boss and wine afficiando, we found a small vineyard called August Briggs.

I was already enamored because my birthday is in August and I figure anything that has that month in it much be FANTASTIC because in addition to being awesome, I am also all about the humility.

Anyway.

We got there and it looked like everyone was on vacation. Then this guy Matt comes downstairs and not only does he manage a lot of the operation, he also participates in tasting the wines as they age. At first, he was all business, explaining the different wines we were tasting and not talking much. Could be because we had a really strange woman in the tasting room with us at the time, very unkempt and left lots of icky finger prints all over her glass while guzzling samples. Call me crazy, I think she was in it for the freebie and was stopping at every vineyard on her way to a friends house a little north. After she left, an adorable couple from London joined us and all of a sudden the atmosphere turned lively. We went through all the different wines, Matt got pretty animated telling us stories about the vineyard and the process of making a great wine. Next thing you know, he offered us a barrel tasting of a Pinot Noir we were having shipped to us.

AMAZING. The funniest thing about it was that it smelled exactly like a banana peel because it wasn’t totally aged…but still delicious. Trust me, if you ever see any of their wines on your shelves…try it…every single thing we tasted out of this world and I have not received any type of payment to tell you this.

It helped that Matt was very nice looking, sadly for The Man, no hot chicks pouring wine at any of the vineyards we stopped at during our tours. ::snicker::

Here’s where it got funny. After that amazing experience…the barrel tastings, the education Matt shared with us, all the fun…another group walked in. An interesting group. Four overly made up young girls (Hello…it was 90 degrees, full on war paint and stilettos are not exactly Napa friendly) bellied up to the bar for their tasting. With them was one (how to say this gently…) MATRONLY woman. The girls all insisted they only wanted to taste one wine, not the flight. As Matt tried to figure out which would be best suited to their tastes, he asked the MATRONLY woman what she might like.

Matronly Woman: Oh, I don’t drink any of that stuff…
Matt: Stuff?
Matronly Woman: Yeah, wine, I don’t like it.
Matt: You don’t like wine?
Matronly Woman: Nope. It all tastes like medicine.
Matt: Medicine?
Matronly Woman: Yeah, Robitussin to be specific.
Matt: ::blink blink::
TSM: WOW.

We hightailed it out after that for fear of what may come out of my mouth next. When we got outside the doors, I immediately said, “What a bunch of white trash!” (Moment of prayer: “Please God, let my loud voice have carried through that door, Amen and Thanks!”) At which point The Man laughed and said, “Yeah, but they are white trash in a Rolls Royce…” Which yes, they were and it was parked directly next to our Kia. (Hey, would you like a side of irony with that remark TSM?) Just goes to show you, money can’t buy you class…not even when you are rolling large in a Rolls.

The rest of our trip looked like this:

..and this:

…and this:

To say this was a great trip would be the understatement of the century. Only 342 days until my kids go to summer camp again.

This time? I’m totally hitting the passenger eject button.

The flight itself was uneventful, the drive to Napa beautiful. We got to the hotel? It was SPECTACULAR. Lovely Woman at the counter checked us in. Everyone was all smiles.

Got the keys, headed to the room. And that is when the smiling stopped.

The Man had booked a room with a patio because at night in Napa it can get down in the 50′s. Coming from 100 degrees in Texas, this, in and of itself, is a big tourist draw for us. We had packed our sweats to sit out on the patio at night. However, a patio was the one thing we did not have upon arrival.

We went up to our room, room 203 to be exact, and opened the door. It was really dark. I mean really, really dark. I’m all, “Honey, where is the balcony and what is that tiny window looking thingy?” Go to the window thingy and realize it is actually what they consider to be a patio. It’s a small window leading to a space that was about 6X6 and WALLED IN. No air, no natural light. It was a slightly nicer version of what they subjected Heidi and Spencer Pratt to on “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.” (Not that I watched it….)

And I? Looked like this:

…well, I mean minus the the Playboy body, blonde hair, retarded husband and shiny shiny skin.

The Man was looking quite concerned as I searched for a brown paper bag in which to hyperventilate. (Have I mentioned I’m slightly claustrophobic?) This room was sending me over the edge of reality STAT. So after going all Rain Man and turning in circles saying eleventy million times “This won’t do, this just won’t do…” we headed back downstairs.

The Lovely Woman who checked us in was standing there with the Desk Manager, almost as if they were waiting for us. Following is a snippet of our conversation.

TSM: Hi, we just checked into 203? And…NO.
Lovely Woman: Oh yes, I told Desk Manager here that I had just checked you in and I felt bad about it.
TSM: Did you also take bets on how long we would take to come back down?
Lovely Woman: Um….
TSM: Who had two minutes?
Desk Clerk: Well, that room can be problematic indeed.
TSM: Yes, indeed. Is this where you send the guests you don’t like?
Desk Clerk: *Deer in headlight look*
Lovely Woman: *Hides under desk*
TSM: This room? Will not do, we booked a room with a patio, not a prison cell.
Desk Clerk: Well yes, but technically it has a patio.
TSM: Right. Let me say it again. This? Will. Not. Work. For. Us.
The Man: *Pulls out reservations that show beautiful room with expansive patio* This? Is a room with a patio. That? Was NOT.
Desk Clerk: Yes but we are sold out…
TSM: No.
Desk Clerk: …and there are no more rooms.
TSM: No.
Desk Clerk: …because you see, we are at capacity.
TSM: NO.
Desk Clerk: But there are no other rooms…
TSM: Let me make this clear. We have two children, they are at camp. We never get away from them. EVER. We are now away and to put us in a room that looks like a prison cell that you reserve only for the guests you hate DOES. NOT. WORK.
*Side note: Guest in lobby are starting to look concerned…*
Desk Clerk: The only room we have available is the Executive Suite.
TSM: That sounds divine.

So Desk Clerk kindly takes us on a tour of the Executive Suite to make sure it is to our liking. Which, in fact, it was.

It looked like this:

..and this:

and this:

and with a view of a vineyard:

Now before you think I’m kidding about the first room, here is a shot from the pool area. That wall up in the corner was our “Patio area”:

That whole Bitch on Heels thing I have going in my nav bar? Pays off sometimes.

The rest of the trip was AMAZING. So romantic, so beautiful, so….to die for.

For those of you that wonder what hotel we stayed at? I won’t say. They messed up our reservations but then they took care of us which in my mind means a neutral rating…no dissing needed…or praise for that matter.

Come back next time and I’ll tell you about a very exclusive vineyard we went to where one crazy woman compared the wine to cough syrup.

Oh, I’m not kidding….

I know, try to control yourselves.

It was a great week. It started off shaky when we had to drop the kids off at camp. I handled it with all the panache I expected….which is to say I was a total basketcase.

The crying started in earnest on Saturday while I was packing them. Putting twenty little outfits together, each individually sealed in plastic bags.

Stop it with the eye rolling. I had my reasons.

For Mr. C, it’s that he is totally and completely color blind. Left to his own devices, he will appear in an outfit that will make you ask if his name is Mort and if he is, in fact, a retired 75 year old banker getting ready to search for shells on the beach in Miami, white socks and all. Miss G on the other hand has two fashion theories. First of all, short is good and secondly, shorter is better. Call me cah-razay, but Mort the retired 75 year old banker from Miami and his sidekick, Daisy Duke, seemed to not be the best representation of my family.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around and it was time to go, I had pretty much lost it. Found my giant black sunglasses to hide behind and started my mantra of “You will not lose it at camp, you will not lose it at camp. No, really. YOU WILL NOT LOSE IT AT CAMP….”

Really?

Oh yes, I would.

Here’s the thing you should know, the camp we send our kids to really is the happiest place on earth. I’d put Disney up against it any day. When you arrive, there is a pretty long line of cars filtering in and all the kids hang out the sunroofs to wave at all the camp counselors who are greeting you on horseback, from boats as they water ski by or handing you cookies as you enter the gates.

Every single one of those happy people caused me to cry until I was a heaving mess hiding behind my big dark glasses in the back seat because on camp drop off day, the only word that applies to me is unstable.

I would have killed for an experience like this when I was a kid. I went to Camp Grady Spruce here in Texas and when you pulled up and got out of your poorly air conditioned car, you walked through a dusty parking lot and were greeted by a line of surly people with buckets full of sulfur they dusted all over you to keep you from getting eaten alive by mosquitos which subsequently made you stink and turn an alarming shade of day glo yellow as your parents peeled out of the parking lot laughing at you getting to spend a week in an un-airconditioned cabin.

Wow…that sentence was a gramatical nightmare, huh? Sorry, punctuation is not my forte when remembering the horror of summer camp as a child.

Anyway.

Here are a few pictures of them as we dropped them off at their cabins.

This is Mr. C’s third year to go to camp. I love the “Oh here we go again” look on his face. He looks a little sad. But you can also see he’s hesitant, sort of like, “This situation could turn south any minute now….” This was taken moments before he gave The Man the secret signal to get me out of the cabin before I melted down. He’s a smart boy.

After being forcibly evicted from Mr. C’s cabin, I headed on to the next challenge, unpacking Miss G. We got her to her cabin and got busy while she socialized. I should tell you that we let each of the kids pick out stencils for their trunks. Mr. C went with a baseball and pokemon theme, Miss G chose dolphins.

Naughty, naughty dolphins.

Folks, this is a Christian camp we are talking about. We raced to get that trunk stored away before anyone could ask what was going on with Flipper and his little lady friend.

Finally unpacked, The Man asked Miss G for a final hug and kiss at which point she completely and totally ignored him. His only purpose in her mind was to get the crazy lady in the big dark glasses she sometimes calls Mommy out of there before a scene started. I can’t be sure but I think she would have given us the finger at that point if a.) she knew how and b.) she was not at aforementioned Christian camp. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that second point would have mattered to her. She calls it like she sees it…the apple definitely did not fall far from the tree with that one.

The Man did manage to drag me out of there before I embarassed us too much and I’d like to thank all my friends who saw me that day that were kind enough not to laugh in my face, because I totally deserved it.

With the reality of an entire week to ourselves, The Man and I did what any responsible parents would do while our kids were away at camp.

We got on a plane and headed to Napa.

Come back later this week and I’ll share our travels throughout the wine country and tell you about the hotel room that caused me to think we were on an episode of “I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here”.

We are so totally the new Speidi.

Dread: We are dropping both kids off at sleep away camp FOR A WHOLE WEEK!
Joy: We are dropping both kids off at sleep away camp FOR A WHOLE WEEK!

That’s right, for one entire week, The House of Stiletto will be kid free. But I have to get through dropping them off first. That, my friends, is the tricky part.

I know, I know…you probably think I’m the type to just hit the passenger eject buttons as we pull into camp and yell, “See ya sucka!” but as I’ve mentioned before (and I’m not sure anyone really believes me) I cry at EVERYTHING and especially anything having to do with two certain small people I am horribly addicted to.

I started thinking about it today and the waterworks started. Emailed one of my friends, Maria, who’s son is going the same week and said, “The crying has already started…this is not a good harbinger of things to come Sunday…” to which she sent a simple reply, “Get a life.” People, if you can’t tell, Maria is one of my best sounding boards, girlfriend calls it like she sees it. I NEED PEOPLE LIKE THIS IN MY LIFE. No really…I do…emotional train wrecks need grounding sometimes. However, Maria? Also trust me when I tell you that I owe you and Selina a payback for the fact I now have to decorate my car for the drive down thanks to the two of you. White shoe polish and tears are two things that really don’t mix.

I know this is going to be a train wreck of biblical proportions because this is the third year Mr. C has gone. The first year he put up with me sniffling quietly behind very large dark glasses while he unpacked his trunk. He hugged me, assured me he’d be fine and he would write every day and miss me soooo much. Last year, he flat out gave me the side eye and said, “Okay, see ya later!” and scurried off before anyone could figure out it was his Mom that was creating a small river of tears in the cabin.

Miss G will be joining him this year for the first time. That alone is going to throw me right over the edge of reality. Add to this that they are two entirely different children. Miss G is going to have ZERO TOLERANCE for embarassment of such epic proportions. Odds of her telling me in no uncertain terms to get my act together PRONTO and physically throwing me out of the cabin? 100%

I don’t think I’m going to get out of there alive.

Go ahead, try and make me feel better. Tell me how much fun they will have. Tell me what a great experience it is for them. Tell me how much I’m going to enjoy all this quiet time. Finished?

Yeah, now you can go get me another box of kleenex…thanks!

So now that you know I’ll be crying my eyes out on Sunday and every single member of my family will be pretending they don’t know me, I should also tell you this.

I’m taking the week off.

From work, from blogging from everything. I’m going to spend some time focusing on my husband, drinking entirely too much wine, and trying to remember what it was like to be us before these crazy children of ours came along.

As I recall, we were pretty damn good at it.

I’ll be back next Monday….you crazy kids be good while I’m gone!

It was really awesome.

Somewhere around 8:00 the sirens went off. I’ve lived in Texas all of my life. I’ve done more tornadoes than I care count and I take them VERY SERIOUSLY. The Man and I immediately herded the kids into the laundry room, although it is very small, it is the safest room in the house as it has no windows and is located beneath a stairwell which makes it the least likely room in the house to collapse. Comforting, right? The kids loved it though….what an adventure for them. Me? Not so much.

Gracie enjoyed some “relaxation time” in a laundry basket:

Then, they both got bored and decided to move to the actual washer/dryer combo.

Yes, she is actually IN the dryer. Mr. C, however was totally chill, reading “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” on top of the dryer. (He is totally not wimpy…wasn’t scared at all…unlike his Mom)

The kids were having a great time. I was in the process of a pretty major freak out. I kept sneaking out to see what was going on. I was fairly sure we were mid Armageddon and the house was coming down.

And I was out of wine. Dammit.

Anyfunnelcloud, we did not get hit but we did loose power until exactly 3:27 AM when it all came back on full force. Have you ever been asleep and had every light in the house turn on in the middle of the night accompanied by loud cartoons and some really loud murder movie in the family room? If not, you have not really lived. The Man and I got up, turned everything off…and never went back to sleep.

Tomorrow, I face the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Miss G is in a summer camp at Cowboy HQ and she will be doing her final performance. I will be there to see it with the ginormous bags under my eyes. I don’t need this kind of humiliation in my life…Hold me…I’m too tired for this…

Did I mention I’m a Green Bay fan?

Good Lord, I’m going to sleep n ow…and I’m not waking up until Sunday.

Have you ever noticed how certain smells or tastes take you back in time? Could be anything. The smell of a candle, a certain perfume, an Easter ham….so many things can trigger memories from childhood.

For me? It’s Chop-Suey.

My Mom used to make Chop-Suey for all important family events. It is important to note here that we are not even a little bit Asian, I am only a only a third generation American on my Mother’s side…and very, very Irish. But my Mom? She loved her some Chop-Suey and so she found a way to make a slightly Irish version of it. Beef and Pork combined, it was the stuff of the Gods when I grew up. She made it in an electric skillet (remember those?) and I swear it melted in my mouth.

In the 17 years since she died, I have missed this dish more than I can say. To me, it symbolized family gatherings and jokes about how innapropriate it was for some holidays. (July 4th? Maybe not the most representative dinner choice.)

The thing was, it was always there. And when she was no longer among us…it vanished and I missed it so much. To me, it represented comfort…being with her and my Dad, family surrounding us. The fact that she was no longer cooking that dish was a small death in and of itself. Because to me, it was like a hug from her.

After she died, I waited a very long time before I opened the avacado green tin that held her recipes, most of which were written by hand lovingly from her family and friends. Not categorized like us mommies do now, just stuffed in a little box. When I finally did open it, the flood of emotions that came from it almost flattened me. You see, they smelled like the house I grew up in. All captured in a tiny tin, just waiting for me to open it like Pandora’s Box and let loose a flood of painful tears.

I dug for that recipe for hours while still leaving everything in tact. Look at the note card pulled out with the words “Spinich Balls” from a friend of hers. That stuff? Plus the smell? Is PRICELESS.

But the one recipe I wanted was not there. Because that was the one dish she made from her heart. For me. Because I was the one who demanded it at every possible turn.

So for some reason the other night, after not having thought about it for a few years, I dreamed about it. And I dreamed I was cooking it for a bloggy friend of mine that has gone missing for a while. For the first time ever, I remembered the ingredients which I could not before. I remembered that she sauteed the meat, and the ingredients she added. All of this before has been a loss to me…I’ve struggled for years to remember it.

After the kids got on the bus to go to school, The Man asked me what might be a great rainy day dinner for us to which I answered, “Chop-Suey…I really, really want Chop-Suey today.”

I have to say, I may have married the most amazing man on the planet because after I told him what I remembered he researched the recipe on the internet and he found almost an exact duplicate and cooked it for me last night. I smiled through the entire meal as memories of happy gatherings with friends and family rushed back to me, all the while feeling like somehow my Mother was sitting there with us, creating laughter with her jokes and making guests feel like they were at home. My Mother was amazing, and last night, for just a moment, my husband brought her back to me.

So tell me…what’s your memory trigger and when is the last time you experienced it?

1. In my life, I have been bone crushing poor, fairly wealthy and now live somewhere in the middle….which is the best and most comfortable place to be. And I am thankful for every step of the way because I learned so much. I have been blessed with a family straight out of a Leave It To Beaver episode and friends that I never dreamed I would be lucky enough to find, let alone keep.
2. I was born in Dallas more years ago than I care to mention
3. My parents were the most happily married people I ever met.
4. I have not one complaint about my up-bringing.
5. My greatest success in life will be if I can be half the Mom my Mother was.
6. I am an only child.
7. In grade school, I was considered obese.
8. Kids used to jump out of their chairs when I sat down like there was an earthquake.
9. I hated most of the kids that did that until my 20th reunion.
10. I have since forgiven because there is so much more to be worried about.
11. In high school I was in Drill Team.
12. I tried out for cheerleader and didn’t make it.
13. I am now thankful for not making cheerleader because it taught me a valuable lesson in life…it won’t always go your way, no matter how much you want it.
14. When I didn’t make cheerleader, my Mother gave me a little present to try and make me feel better.
15. I acted like a total bitch.
16. I wish more than anything I could take that moment back.
17. I was not a total bitch however, to a skinny little popular girl named Lisa, who 27 years later is still one of my best friends and lives only a few streets over….because even if we don’t talk every day, it feels good to be near each other. I love you Weezie.
18. I fell in love for the first time with a boy named John Mark Griffin. John Mark, if you were to by some odd consequence to come across my blog? Thank you for being a gentleman and never asking me to compromise my values…because I probably would have…and to this day, I hope the first love of my daughters life is as respectful as you.
19. I went to college at Stephen F Austin in Nacodoches, Texas.
20. I made a ton of great friends that I didn’t keep up with. I wish I had.
21. I never finished college. I had to come home because my Father was dying.
22. I regret not finishing college.
23. But I don’t regret the reasons why I didn’t.
24. My Dad died in my arms and it haunts me to this day.
25. I never went back to college because I had to take care of my Mother.
26. I will never regret that decision either.
27. After my Dad died and I came home I made some VERY. BAD. DECISIONS. Not a point of my life I am proud of.
28. My Mother fell apart when my dad died and I had to grow up and pick up the tiny little pieces left behind.
29. I don’t regret that part either, although at the time it was….not fun.
30. She never really bounced back even though depressed she was still the funniest person I ever met…and such a good friend.
31. She was my very best friend of all.
32. She introduced me to another best friend…Gretchen…who some 20 odd years later, still makes me laugh every time I talk to her…Gotchy, thank you for being a great friend and a good example to my son…I love you.
33. I, um, shall we say “kissed a lot of frogs” in the 80′s. A LOT. Again, not proud.
34. I dated one guy for four and a half years that was the most verbally abusive human I have ever met. After him I dated a slew of losers that made me doubt my self worth and damaged any hope I had for ever becoming successful.
35. But then I met a guy who changed my life forever.
36. I met my future husband in a bar. He proposed about 300 times before I accepted…and I am not kidding.
37. I am thankful he met my Mom…because she loved him more than any guy I ever brought home before him.
38. She died 6 weeks after we got engaged.
39. I still lived with her because I was picking up the tiny pieces still from my Dad dying and I wasn’t home the night she had a fatal heart attack.
40. I think if I had been home I could have saved her. I will NEVER forgive myself for that night EVER.
41. To this day, I think it’s my fault she died…and I punish myself for it a little bit each day…so many years later.
42. I still cry at least once a week when I think of her, almost 17 years later…that wound will never heal.
43. I still think to this day she was waiting to make sure there was someone in the wings that would love me the way she did. Thank you Mom….he does.
44. The Man and I got engaged six weeks after the first day we kissed…well, that and other stuff.
45. Sometimes you know when right is right and you just go for it.
46. We didn’t tell anyone for six months. SIX MONTHS!!!!!
47. When The Man proposed to me formally so we could tell my Mom, he broke out in hives, even though we had been secretly engaged for six months and I’m pretty sure he knew what the answer was.
48. We couldn’t afford an engagement ring at the time so his Mom gave us a cocktail ring his Dad gave her a long time ago when they were still married.
49. We got married on a ski slope two years later.
50. My entire family was late.
51. His, was not.
52. Thankfully so was the JP (a woman) who married us as well.
53. After we got married, we lived in the house I had grown up in and it fell down around our ears. And by this, I mean the roof was falling in…really.
54. He worked three jobs trying to support us while trying to literally put the roof back on the house by himself before it fell in completely.
55. I worship him for that to this day.
56. We finally bought our first (non falling down) house in Carrolton, Texas. It was great. And we were very proud of it.
57. We had next door neighbors that we would sit in the front yard with and get totally smashed on Halloween…I wish I knew where they are now because they were awesome.
58. We dreamed of starting a family but we couldn’t afford it.
59. And then I got a job at a start up called Yahoo.
60. My job at Yahoo came courtesy of my third best friend Traci….who has had to put up with my craziness perhaps more than all the other BFF crowd. Traci, you are my apex and I don’t have to tell you how much I love you….we say it to each other all the time, not with words but with the bond we share and the bond our children are forming.
61. And I got pregnant.
62. My favorite movie in the entire world is, “It’s a Wonderful Life” so when I found out I was pregnant, I came home and said, “Mr Man Lasoos Stork!” and he almost fell over.
63. I still remember exactly where he was standing when I told him.
64. We moved to a bigger house in Coppell, Texas a few months before Mr. C was born.
65. We had the most awesome neighbors there as well.
66. I went into labor with Mr. C at work and refused to leave.
67. It was a Monday.
68. I got home and started making a lot of noise during Monday Night Football.
69. The Man did not like that.
70. 21 hours later…and only two of those with drugs, Mr. C made his entry into the world…and my whole life changed.
71. I love my son more than life itself.
72. And my job was crazy….i traveled all the time and missed his first steps.
73. And then I got pregnant again and quit when I was six months along and took four years off..
74. We moved to again two weeks before Miss G was born.
75. The house we moved into was designed from the ground up by me….architecture, knobs on cabinets….everything….and it was magnificent.
76. I unpacked the entire house during my nesting phase.
77. And then 9/11 happened. And the world changed.
78. I delivered Miss G three days later on 9/14…but I had gestational diabetes and they took her away for six hours…but when they brought her to me, she looked like the most perfect girl I had ever seen.
79. My heart split in two and I learned as much as you love the first baby, you love the second one just as much.
80. And your husband even more than you already did.
81. After Miss G was past her first year, I went to cooking school.
82. Before that I couldn’t boil an egg.
83. I am now an excellent cook when I choose to be.
84. Miss G started pre-school and Mr. C started elementary school.
85. I joined the PTA.
86. That was a bad decision.
87. After a year of listening to bickering and taking slack from a woman who wore a t-shirt to school that said “Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy” I actually said “Fuck y’all” and walked the hell out.
88. Best decision I ever made.
89. Love the women there now, I think I just lucked into an extremely dysfunctional year.
90. We moved out of the house I built and into another one because the area we lived in was not exactly kid friendly and we found that the house, as grand as it was, no longer made us happy.
91. Through the process of living in that grand house and then moving out of it and the speculation that went on in our neighborhood, I realized I had a fourth best friend…the fourth horseman actually…in the form of a woman named Korey who made me realize that I could balance my life and a big career because she has been the master of that for many, many years. Korey..my Korean sister…I love you and you know it.
92. I went back to work for CBS Digital.
93. I worked for a guy that I would kill for to this day….Chris Fix? You hear me? You gave me all of my confidence back and for that? I am forever grateful and in your debt. I mean that my friend.
94. A couple of jobs later I am at another company whose name I will not say, but I’m happy.
95. My children are now 10 and 7.
96. Mr. C is the most thoughtful child I have ever met. His heart breaks at the thought of hurting someones feelings and he gives the best snuggles ever.
97. Miss G is a life force unto itself. She is thoughtful as well, but will not think for a minute before shutting you down in the most public manner possible.
98. The apple, it would seem, does not fall far from the tree.
99. And I am still….almost 15 years later, married to The Man.
100. We have had more than our fair share of ups and downs and to this day, I am so thankful for that very fateful day when I met him in a bar and acted every inch not the lady…and he fell in love with me anyway.

So to all of those that read me, first of all….THANK YOU. You have made my day as I have gotten to know all of you. My life is forever changed for having the pleasure of getting to know you, in real life or just in cyber space…I am so very thankful for each and every one of you.

And to each and every member of my family and friends, whether mentioned or not, I am the luckiest girl in the world for having the support system around me that I do…I love you all!

Seven years ago, I was out shopping for Christmas wrapping paper at my favorite place on earth, The Container Store. It’s an annual excursion that The Man and I will probably be making this weekend. That year however, I was on my own though as The Man was at work and so I ventured out with one six week old infant and one potty training almost three year old in tow. I thanked numerous customers as they ooo’d and awe’d over Miss G…she looked adorable, no doubt about it. Sorta like this:

My Christmas papers and their bows at that time were a work of art. First a main “theme” paper would be chosen. Then, about five different selections that compliment the winner of the main “theme” would need to be found. Meticulous precision was applied to this process and the time involved was nothing short of legendary. (BTW, this was way back when I had the time to think it through, in the years since, I’ve seriously looked at trying a brown paper bag theme, and bows would be optional) Papers were examined carefully, auditioned against other papers for their ability to blend, yet leave the main theme paper dominant. The Container Store was the only place this could happen because they have the best selection and the best quality. And yes, I am aware that all of this collectively makes me a huge pain in the ass. But you already knew that, right?

After making my final starring and supporting cast wrapping paper selections, the three of us proceeded to checkout. That’s when Mr. C sounded the bell that it was time to make a side trip to the restroom. When you are in the middle of potty training there really is no time to waste and so we high tailed it to the bathroom. Thankfully, the extra big stall with the diaper changing station was open and we ran in.

I decided to go for a two for one and while Mr. C did his bidness, I woke up my perfectly behaved, well dressed little angel to change her diaper. Miss G complied by opening her enormous blue eyes and flashing me the most adorable cherubic toofless grin.

Mr. C, however, decided compliance was not in order that day. He finished his bidness and summarily ran out of the stall and much to my horror continued on through the open door of the restroom and into the general population just as I was finishing her diaper up. In my mind, in this highly civilized store, there was the one person lurking immediately beyond the door who would grab him and take him away from me forever as he ran out by himself. And I freaked. Big Time. I snapped her onsie shut threw her pants over my shoulder, put her in her carrier and picked it up full steam ahead.

Only I forgot something.

In my madness, I had not fastened the seat belt in her carrier and as I lunged forward, the handle locked and tiny Miss G became a baby projectile. She sailed through the air silently as I dropped the carrier and tried to catch her all the while yelling, “SOMEBODY STOP HIM!!!!”. I realized at that moment my catching skills suck and she landed, face down, on the floor of the bathroom with the most sickening THUD I have ever heard. For what seemed like eternity, but was probably about 2 seconds she didn’t move…because let’s face it, at six weeks she couldn’t lift her head and was more than likely as stunned as I was and wondering…”What the hell, Mommy???” I reached down and grabbed her up, she looked confused and there was a little blood coming out of her nose.

Convinced I had killed or at least limited her ability to ever have a cohesive thought in all of her life, I ran screaming from the bathroom only to be greeted by a woman who worked there and had heard all the commotion. She had grabbed Mr. C and had him in hand as I sobbed and put Miss G back into her carrier, carefully snapping the seatbelt this time. She even helped me to the car where she gave me a hug as I started to get in my car. (More reasons I love The Container Store…their employees are happier than those at Disney)

I called The Man at work and told him through my sobs how I had tried to kill our daughter as we raced to the emergency room. Miss G had dozed back to sleep at this point which I interpreted as a sign of a concussion. The Man was rushing to meet us at the ER and the whole way there I told Mr. C to do the things he normally loved to do, namely poke her and throw things at her to wake her up. Blood still seeping out of her nose and not waking up, we practically flew to the emergency room, Mr. C enjoying the ride of his life where he was allowed to torture this frilly little thing that had invaded his turf so recently and taken the spotlight off him.

We got there, and I ran in with both kids, still sobbing and basically telling them to go ahead and call CPS because I was the most horrible mother EVER and should not be entrusted with my own children. On and on I went, giving a graphic description of everything that had happened…I was almost hyperventilating.

Guess what they did?

They laughed at me. Yes, laughed. Because while I was busy telling them how I had tried to kill my beautiful baby by throwing her on the nasty floor of the bathroom, she had opened her eyes behind my back and was smiling at the receptionist. Like this:

After assuring me that this type of thing happens all the time and I was not in fact the very worst mother on the planet, they said she should be checked out just to be safe. The Man raced in, freaking out, just as a really hot Doctor came in to examine her. That’s when our daughter made her first big move….she blew a spit bubble at him and giggled for the first time in her life. Little bloody nose, freaked out mom, hospital scene in full force…this was Miss G’s first attempt at flirting.

Dr. McDreamy (because in my memory now he totally looks like Patrick Dempsey) laughed and flirted back at her at which point she pulled her utlimate “come hither” move and wiggled her toes at him. She checked out just fine but I think I knew at that moment, this little thing, this prissy girl I wanted all my life, had just Baby Punk’d me and would be doing so for a long time to come.

You know what? Seven years later, she still Punks us and she wins….EVERY TIME.

On the next edition of “Who On Earth Thought It Was A Good Idea To Let These Two Have Children” I’ll tell you how The Man and I taught Mr. C to cuss like a sailor before he was two. As far as parents go, we really are impressive.

Yeah, I wasn’t kidding. Guess what? Not a single paw print on that furniture yesterday.

We got through dinner without a single fight. Thoughtful blessings were said, napkins placed in laps and not once were the words, “THAT’S DISGUSTING!” yelled about food. Best manners were out in full force. I was so proud.

After dinner, Miss G played with her Grandaddy…

…while Mr. C morphed into a real estate mogul during a game of Monopoly.

They even let me and The Man relax for a few minutes.

See that suspicious look on The Man’s face? He totally wasn’t believing that this good behavior could last for any meaningful amount of time.

But it did. They are still on their best behavior today. Either they want something or they are secretly plotting against us….could go either way. Whoever these well behaved children are, they are welcome to stay in my house for as long as they would like.

And they can even keep calling me Mom.

And now, the first installation of the Shoebox Chronicles….Grossness…

There are so many things that gross me out. To cite a few, standard nose picking….add extra points for eating after. Dirty fingernails…please don’t touch me with them. Childbirth videos…please don’t show me the video of your hoo hoo at a party (a dinner party no less right after we finished eating…oh yes, that actually has happened) and I’ll spare you from the lengthy explanation of how the thought of something coming out of…well, down there, caused me to threaten my husband within an inch of his life if he got near me with a camera at that point. If you have such a video, I’m happy for you because you are far less squeemish than I am and you actually had the right attitude in the delivery room, whereas I? Did not. Bring on the drugs and get this thing out of me was my general opinion. Yep, I’m shallow but you knew that. Feet, in general, need to be added to the list as do crickets, crawfish and lizards.

I thought I had my list of things that would make me throw up down to a science.

Until the other night.

The Man and I were sitting outside, we do that a lot at this time of year. It’s cool and crisp and we have a covered patio where we have mounted an old TV that streams whatever is on in the family room. It’s fantastic and my favorite place to kick back at the end of the night while the weather is pleasant.

This is where I relax, no kids, great wine and read all of your blogs and write on my own. So here I was, really enjoying myself when all of a sudden the man hawked the largest phlegm ball ever seen by humanity.

We interrupt our regularly schedule programming here to insert the following caveat: The Man does not normally do such disgusting things. The Man is actually quite charming, well mannered and able to function in social settings with little to no supervision. The Man was not raised in a barn nor does he scratch himself in public. The Man normally does not emit phlegm on such a hideous basis, he was suffering from the grossness he eventually infected me with. The Man is an educated, well spoken former member of the United States Air Force and is pretty damn good lookin’ to boot.

The phlegm ball hit the ground and before you could say, “WTF???” our 38 pound (not a typo) pug ran as fast as his fat little legs would carry him and GOBBLED IT UP. Vomit. Then? He licked his lips and stood there wagging his tail. The dog, that is.

As I started wretching uncontrollably, The Man was laughing hysterically at me. AND THEN HE DID IT AGAIN.

…and the dog? Gobbled it up again…and then? TRIED TO GIVE ME A KISS.

Apparently this is a disgusting little trick my non barn bred, well educated, former member of the military has played before with our dog. The fact that it makes me dry heave into our landscaping only makes it more fun. Pfft.

After I finished throwing up in the begonias, I asked him very kindly to never do that shit to me again. But now, he is sitting here looking like he might have a trick or two up his sleeve, and after 15 years of marriage…I’m scared…and TOTALLY GROSSED OUT.

Somebody hold me…and bring a bucket.

This hot mess of The Shoebox Chronicles brought to you by Mama Dawg over at Two Dogs Running who asked the following question: “Write about something that completely grosses you out. I mean to the point that you’re thisclose to hurling as you type it.” If you haven’t been to her site, go check it out, tons of humor, hard to answer questions and great posts in general. She’s awesome and I adore her for adding to my ability to totally punish all of you for reading me.