Momnesia

1:30 p.m. - We got our hair did for the wedding at the wonderful Salon Red on the square in Decatur. But they were going through a lot of bobby pins on us. "You know what they should develop instead of bobby pins?" I heard my mouth say before I even realized I was talking. "A hair stapler. So you could just be like, 'How's this? Good? Okay.' KACHUNKA!"

(sigh) Why can't I lose my voice in a tragic shower singing accident?

3:15 p.m. - At the church, getting ready. It's hot as balls, and I'm just trying not to sweat my makeup off or my hair down. Bleh!

3:45 p.m. - Getting dressed for the wedding, one of our relatives couldn't get her dress zipped. That was not acceptable. There was no backup dress, and she was significant in the ceremony. It took 2 of us to get it hooked - and then the hooks popped off and flew across the room! We were so afraid that we weren't going to be able to get it on her, but a last-minute burst of Hulkomania got it up. That would have been Big Drama.

4 p.m. - Photos, and the flower girl is rockin' the good behavior. Did I mention hot as balls outside? Dadgum! There should be a law about taffeta and summer weddings.

6:40 p.m. - Emmie, the flower girl, turned during the ceremony and stage whispered to me: "I hafta go potty!" Ann, one of the readers, who was sitting in the front row, hissed, "I'll take her!" But when I motioned for Emmie to go with her, Emmie said, "No! I don' wanna! If I go now, I'll miss da show!"

6:45 p.m. - During the rehearsal, one of the readers asked, "I can never remember: Is it pronounced Coh-loss-ee-ahns, or Coh-losh-uns?" I told her that I always thought that chapter should be pronounced "CUHLOSHUNS!!!" with accompanying strong-man gestures, like it was a wrestler's name. That was funny until it was time to read the text during the ceremony and all the bridesmaids were trying not to laugh out loud.

7 p.m. - I don't know how this happpened, but 6 other bitches showed up at this wedding wearing the same dress as me! Awkward. They kept showing up all at the same time as me and standing near me in photos... like it was planned, or something.

8:15 p.m. - It was so sad. This woman at the wedding wore a black slip with lace inserts, and no one had the heart to tell her that she had left her dress at home. Or maybe they were secretly filming a Whitesnake comeback video? Judging from her inappropriate dancing, that might be likely...

8:50 p.m. - The ring bearer and flower girl have devolved to running across the dance floor and sliding on their knees. So much for THOSE outfits...

9 p.m. - Two of the groomsmen are "dancing up on" the bride. Um... just... no.

9:10 p.m. - The bartender keeps insisting that I give him a high-five before he'll take my order. I just want some Diet Coke, dude!

9:30 p.m. - My parents take the flower girl home with them. Ahhh... a full night's sleep...

10 p.m. - There are some drunk-ass people up in this joint. The food is all gone, the cake has been cut, and the bar is open. From now, it's a full-on keg party. Without the keg.

10:15 p.m. - Note to readers: It is NOT appropriate for a mother and son to slow-dance together to "Let's Get it On," by Marvin Gaye. No. No. Do not even think about it.

10:30 p.m. - Stick a fork in me! I'm done. Sleepy time!

Emmie left yesterday to go to a family reunion in Virginia with my parents and my sister. While I trust those three people with her, and I know that there will be 50 other parents (but few children, since we're all grown up) at the reunion to look after her, it was still hard to let her go.

I gnawed on my nails (figuratively) all day, and called various relatives several times before I left work for the day. But then Scott and I had a leisurely dinner with friends without having to watch her like a hawk or cut up her food or clean up her spills like I had twice at lunch with my parents yesterday, and I found myself relaxing a little.

When I left work, there was no hour of driving to pick her up and bring her home. When I got home, there was no arguing about television, bed time, or pleas for "jus' one more mooches an' hugs."

I lay on the couch and turned on "True Blood," something I usually have to reserve for after she falls asleep. And then it hit me: Emmie's on vacation until next week. So is my boss.

"Hey! I don't answer to anyone but myself right now!" I exclaimed to my husband.

Much to his credit, he didn't respond, "And me."



Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Just wanted to remind you...

"... that you suck."


From: Scott Hudson
To: Stacey Hudson
Subject: Re: Just wanted to remind you...

"Sometimes you are flat out impossible."


From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Auto Reply: Out of Assholes

"This is an automatic reply. Your e-mail has been received. Unfortunately, we are all full up on buttheads here. Please take your crap somewhere else.

Best Regards,
Stacey Hudson"


From: Scott Hudson
To: Stacey Hudson
Subject: Re: Re: Auto Reply

"Are picking up Emerson?"


From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Auto Reply: Did You Not Hear What I Said?!

"This is an automatic reply. We have received your e-mail. Unfortunately, we're in the process of mentally kicking your butt.

Best Regards,
Stacey Hudson"

AUGUSTA, GA. - My dad was born and raised in Texas. He once told me that if the Lone Star State ever decided to secede from the union, that he would join them. My dad drank the water there for far too long. So when he sent me this, I was far from surprised. I just sent him back a message that said, "You do know that I'm not from Texas, right?" And I hope he does know that, being my dad, and all. But I have similar (although weaker) feelings about Georgia - having been born and raised in metro-Atlanta. So I kind of get it. When we watched the Stone Mountain Laser Show two weekends ago, and they started in with the tribute to the Georgia Music Hall of Fame, I got a beautiful pain in my heart.

Have you ever looked at a map of the world? Look at Texas with me just for a second. That picture, with the Panhandle and the Gulf Coast, and the Red River and the Rio Grande is as much a part of you as anything ever will be. As soon as anyone anywhere in the world looks at it they know what it is. It's Texas. Pick any kid off the street in Japan and draw him a picture of Texas in the dirt and he'll know what it is. What happens if I show you a picture of any other state? You might get it maybe after a second or two, but who else would? And even if you do, does it ever stir any feelings in you?

In every man, woman and child on this planet, there is a person who wishes just once he could be a real live Texan and get up on a horse or ride off in a pickup. There is a little bit of Texas in everyone.

Texas is the Alamo. Texas is 183 men standing in a church, facing thousands of Mexican nationals, fighting for freedom, who had the chance to walk out and save themselves, but stayed instead to fight and die for the cause of freedom.

We send our kids to schools named William B. Travis and James Bowie and Davy Crockett, and do you know why? Because those men saw a line in the sand and they decided to cross it and be heroes.

John Wayne paid to do the movie himself. That is the Spirit of Texas.

Texas is Sam Houston capturing Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana at San Jacinto.

Texas is huge forests of Piney Woods like the Davy Crockett and Sam Houston National Forests.

Texas is breathtaking mountains in the Big Bend.

Texas is the unparalleled beauty of bluebonnet fields in the Texas Hill Country.
Texas is floating the rivers of the Hill Country on a hot summer day.
Texas is the beautiful, warm beaches of the Gulf Coast of South Texas.
Texas is beaches you can drive on and have many memorable bon-fires with close friends.
Texas is that warm feeling you get when someone asks where you're from.

Texas is the shiny skyscrapers in Houston and Dallas.

Texas is world record bass from places like Lake Fork.

Texas is Mexican foods like nowhere else, not even Mexico.
Texas is chicken fried steak and world famous Bar-B-Q.
Texas is the Fort Worth Stockyards, Bass Hall, the Ballpark in Arlington and the Astrodome. (guess now the Reliant Stadium too)..

Texas is larger-than-life legends like Michael DeBakey, Ann Richards, Denton Cooley, Willie Nelson, Buddy Holly, Gene Autry, Audie Murphy, Tommy Lee Jones, Waylon Jennings, Farrah Fawcet, Janis Joplin, Sandra Bullock, Kris Kristofferson, Tom Landry, Eva Longoria, Darrell Royal, ZZ Top, Eric Dickerson, Earl Campbell, Nolan Ryan, Sam Rayburn, Howard Hughes, and let's not forget GEORGE STRAIT- PANTERA, the Big Bopper, Tex Ritter, George Jones, Clay Walker, Mark Chestnut, to name ONLY a few.

Texas is great companies like Dell Computer, Texas Instruments, EDS and Compaq, Whataburger, Southwest Airlines , Bell Helicopter and LOCKHEED MARTIN AEROSPACE, Home of the F-16 Jet Fighter and the JSF Fighter, Valero.

Texas is NASA.

Texas is huge herds of cattle, beautiful horses and miles of crops.
Texas is home to the world famous King Ranch.
Texas is home to the most amazing sunsets of gold over an empty field.

Texas is hundreds of deer running around neighborhoods and fields.

Texas is skies blackened with doves and fields full of deer.

Texas is a place where towns and cities shut down to watch the local high school football game on Friday nights and for the Cowboys on Monday Night Football, and for the night In Old San Antonio River Parade in San Antonio.

To drive across Texas is to drive 1/3 the way across the United States.

Texas is ocean beaches, deserts, lakes and rivers, mountains and prairies, and modern cities.

If it isn't already in Texas, you probably don't need it.

No one does anything bigger or better than it's done in Texas.

By federal law, Texas is the only state in the U...S. That can fly its flag at the same height as the U.S. Flag. Think about that for a second. You fly the Stars and Stripes at 20 feet in Maryland, California , or Maine , and your state flag, whatever it is, goes at 17 feet. You fly the Stars and Stripes in front of Klein Oak High or anyplace else at 20 feet, the Lone Star flies at the same height - 20 feet. Do you know why? Because it is the only state that was a Republic before it became a state.

Also, being a Texan is as high as being an American down here. Our capitol is the only one in the country that is taller than the capitol building in Washington, D.C. And we can divide our state into five states at any time if we wanted to! We can become a republic again at any time the voters of Texas choose, and we included these things as part of the deal when we came on. That's the best part, right there.

Texas even has its own power grid!! And don't even lie to yourself... Did I mention Live music capitol of the world?

If you are a REAL TEXAN, you won't even need to be told to pass this on.
GOD BLESS TEXAS !

AUGUSTA, GA. - Parenting has become a spectator sport. We set the bar extremely high for what is "good" parenting and start judging the moment we hear someone did something that could be considered one drop dangerous. Read the rest of the article here.

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AUGUSTA, GA. - Thanks to President Obama, my husband and I are now closer to paying off his staggering medical bills. With the $13 a week increase, we will have them paid off in 5,769 weeks! Thanks, Mr. Agent of Change! This is way better than the 5,870 weeks that we previously anticipated!

Me: "So what about your grandparents?"
Scott: "Lunch tomorrow. They already got the ham, so I told them we'd bring the sides."

Me: "Cool. Whatcha want?"
Scott: "Just grab a box of Stovetop Stuffing and a couple of cans of green beans."
Me: "Oh, wow, honey. The effort you're putting into this is so impressive."
Scott: "Hey, I was going to chop onions and celery for the stuffing."
Me: "Ooooooo. Onions and celery. I stand corrected."
Scott: "And chicken broth."
Me: "Mmm."

Scott: "You know, I'm very busy here. You forget that I have some important breaking news to report."
Me: "I'm sorry. I forgot how very important you are, big radio-man. What's the breaking news?"
Scott: "I am... (dramatic pause) tracking Santa."
Me: "Tracking Santa."
Scott: "Yes."
Me: "Really."
Scott: "With NORAD."
Me: "Like in 'War Games?'"
Scott: "What?"
Me: "Nothing."

Scott: "Guess where he is right now."
Me: "Uh... China?"
Scott: "No. Ssabbaassssuhhh (slurring words), Afghanistan."
Me: "You don't know where that is, do you?"
Scott: "It's in Afghanistan."
Me: "Touche. Well, I'll let you get back to your GPS system."
Scott: "Thank you. Remember to listen to WGAC News/Talk 580 for more updates."

AUGUSTA, GA. - One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Spencer standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it.

The six-year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy. He said quietly, "Good morning, Spence."

"Good morning, Pastor," Spencer replied, still focused on the plaque. "Pastor, what is this?"

The pastor said, "Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service."

Soberly, they stood together, staring at the large plaque. Finally, little Spencer's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear, asked: "Which service, the 8:30 or the 10:30?"

FYI: Never play cards with my dad.

Emmie likes to put (clean) pull-ups on her head. I see a multitude of lampshades in her future. As for my husband... there's just no excuse.

Why does everything in the background look so wonky? I mean, we don't live in a house drawn by Dr. Seuss!

He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked the crap out of him....
Just like his mother used to do.

My dad sent me this joke poem - and the fact that it was my father, and not anyone else - made me laugh harder than the punchline. He could never be accused of behaving that way. In fact, one of my favorite examples of sacrifice in a marriage comes from a holiday morning a few years ago when my family all sat down for breakfast.

"Don't take that bacon," my mother warned my nephew, Jacob. "That's for Dadada."
Dadada is what Jacob called him when he was just learning to talk, and it stuck forever.

"Why is that mine?!" Dad asked, with a look on his face that seemed somewhere between amusement and irritation.

"Because you like it burned," Mom said, matter-of-factly.

"No, I don't!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, you do!" my mother sputtered.

"I hate burned bacon!" he said. "I like it crispy, but not black!"

She stared at him for a moment before answering: "Honey, that is the way I have been making your bacon for 30 years."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up, rather sheepishly.

"I always took the darker bacon because I knew the kids wouldn't eat it, and I didn't want you to have to eat it because you were the one who cooked it," he said.

"Well I've been intentionally cooking yours like this ever since!" she exclaimed.

We all burst into laughter.

Out of consideration for his wife, who gave up a teaching career that she loved to raise her three ungrateful children, he had sacrificed the flavor of what might be his favorite food ever for the vast majority of the duration of their marriage.

If someone asked me to give up chocolate for 30 years to save my husband's sanity just a little on difficult mornings, would I do it? I'd like to think I enjoy my husband more than candy...

But that's a lesson I've taken to heart. And every time I suspect Scott is making some small, silent sacrifice out of deference to my feelings, I haul out a warning: "That's how you get 30 years of burnt bacon." He always laughs and relents.

But I bet he makes more of them than I'll ever realize.

We're trying to teach my nephew to play... something - rummy? Who knows? - in this video. Can you imagine telling you 10-year-old nephew: "Play right or we're going to beat your ass?" That's just S.O.P. at our house.

Why God Made Mothers: All answers given by 2nd grade school children.

Why did God make mothers?
1. She's the only one who knows where the scotch tape is.
2. Mostly to clean the house.
3. To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?
1. He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.
2. Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring.
3. God made my Mom just the same like he made me. He just used bigger parts.

What ingredients are mothers made of ?
1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice in the world and one dab of mean.
2. They had to get their start from men's bones. Then they mostly use string, I think.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?
1. We're related.
2. God knew she likes me a lot more than other people's moms like me.

What kind of little girl was your mom?
1. My Mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff.
2. I don't know because I wasn't there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.
3. They say she used to be nice.

What did mom need to know about dad before she married him?
1. His last name.
2. She had to know his background. Like is he a crook? Does he get drunk on beer?
3. Does he make at least $800 a year? Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your mom marry your dad?
1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my Mom eats a lot.
2. She got too old to do an yt hing else with him.
3. My grandma says that Mom didn't have her thinking cap on.

Who's the boss at your house?
1. Mom doesn't want to be boss, but she has to because dad's such a goof ball.
2. Mom. You can tell by room inspection. She sees the stuff under the bed.
3. I guess Mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

What's the difference between moms & dads?
1. Moms work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work.
2. Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.
3. Dads are taller & stronger, but moms have all the real power 'cause that's who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friend's.
4. Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your mom do in her spare time?
1. Mothers don't do spare time.
2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?
1. On the inside she's already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.
2. Diet. You know, her hair. I'd diet, maybe blue.

If you could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?
1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I'd GET rid of that.
2. I'd make my mom smarter. Then she would know it was my sister who did it and not me.
3. I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.

Whoopee is a blog I check almost every day. Really good writing from an interesting Englishwoman. She just kicked my ass for posting - kicked EVERYONE'S ass - with this post. I bow to her.

AUGUSTA, GA. - My mom has a chicken obsession, and has just about everything she could want that is chicken themed... except a live one that actually says "Bok." I love the word "Bok." Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Bok. Really, it should be the language of diplomacy.

"I'm dying to get my mom a chicken - like, a real one," I say.

"That would be cool... I'd love to see how you get it to Conyers," A.W. replies.

I die laughing: "That would be horrible! Thank you for knocking some sense into me."

"It might be funny though," she continues. "Give you plenty of blog fodder... you know, after it's pecked everybody's eyes out, going down I-20."

Here are some house rules that bear repeating. I won't say to whom they are directed, but I think that the individual(s) will read this and understand.

1. Underwear does not go in the hallway floor.
2. Flushing is not optional.
3. If I leave a perfectly clean house and return in the space of merely 30 minutes, there is no excuse for a tornado having hit our living room.
4. Unless, you know, an actual tornado hits the living room - and then I still expect you to clean up before I get home!
5. One should not open and close the exterior doors more than a dozen times in one hour. You wanna know why our heating bill was $300? Go get warmed up in the backyard and them come inside to the coldest friggin' house on the block and read the dang bill again.
6. We do not need to leave a light on in the house when we go to sleep. It will be night. We will be asleep. What, precisely, are we supposed to be illuminating?

Thank you. Please make a mental note of these things, and then get back to me with any thoughts you may have.

So I went to pick up Emerson from the grandparents' house last night at 10 p.m. and there she was, in a t-shirt and diaper, sitting at a newly purchased Little Mermaid table-and-chairs set, watching Harry Potter on their huge television, eating homemade chocolate ice cream and having her hair brushed by Uncle Chris. She would gladly have stayed there forever in the Land of No Rules, where vegetables are a mere memory and bedtime is - what is that, again? They picked her up yesterday and took her swimming until they kicked them out of the clubhouse pool, she ate macaroni and cheese for dinner, and was on her THIRD helping of ice cream by the time Troll Mommy came and whisked her away to Jail, aka that horrible place where people tell her "no."

But I was prepared for her outrage. I presented Pretty Pretty Princess with her favorite thing in the whole world, the thing that proves once and for all that she is not a child of mine: new shoes. Thus, the child was won and life could proceed as normal.

But she is getting so freaking spoiled. This morning when she woke up, she didn't say "Goo mornee," like usual. She sat up in bed and said, "Emmie wanna pwesent."

Super.

An e-mail exchange about my crazy aunt:

J.W.: "Please can I engage her? I’ll pay you."
Me: "I’m sure an unmarried woman in her 60s would be happy to entertain your proposal. But have you checked with the gypsy matchmaker? She’ll have to do your star charts and decide an auspicious day for the marriage. And then you have give her mother 10 goats and a cow, or 10 goats and a mated pair of bighorn sheep."
J.W.: "Engage her in battle goddamnit. Please can I?"
Me: "If you don’t mind her launching ICBMs from her butt at you, go right ahead. I could give a crap. My parents could give less of a crap."
J.W.: "That is it then. I am going to kill her for you."

Aw. Sweet. It's always nice when your boss offers to commit heinous crimes for you.