Basically, Fish Tacos

One year, while Sweetman and I were visiting Captain Ahab and The Nana down in Florida (before children – Sweetman calls them The Ignorance Is Bliss Years), we went out for dinner.  We all agreed we were in the mood to hit our favorite Mexican joint.

As we went around the table giving our orders to the waiter, there was a surprise order. Nana’s. She ordered “Fish Tacos”.  I choked on my Margarita. Sweetman spewed his beer.  We both looked at each other in horror. Ahab just shook his head sadly.

Now, I grew up in sunny South Florida.  I ate fish here, there, and everywhere.  I did not, however, grow up eating fish in my tacos. This order took me so completely by surprise that I didn’t even know how to process it.

“When did you start eating fish tacos, mom?” And, more importantly, WHY?”

“People change, dear. I really like them. You should try them.”

We agreed to disagree.

By having more margaritas.

Later that night, Sweetman and I awoke to the gentle soothing sounds of The Nana hurling. All Night Long, as Lionel Richie would say.

“It was that Margarita, I tell you!”, she kept insisting.

“Mom, I had the Margarita, too.”, I tried to remind her.

No matter. She wasn’t having it. It just could not be her beloved fish tacos.

That night held many lessons for us all.

The Nana is a horrible liar.

Sweetman and I would never be interested in “trying” fish tacos.

Ever.

Margaritas are evil.

Take your pick.

So I found it surprising to be having this conversation with Sweetman last night:

“Honey, what do you think about trying… now keep an open mind here… black bean and salmon tostadas, one night?”

And just when I I thought the recipe couldn’t get any worse, he started rattling off the list of ingredients, prefacing almost each new one with “Now, we don’t have to add that one.”, or “That one might not be a good addition.”.  He mentioned words like “cabbage” and “pickled jalapenos” and some other things.  I think I tuned out after “salmon tostada”, to be honest.

But this is how it goes around here between he, who cooks, and me, who… well… doesn’t.

If he thinks that being adventurous is adding cabbage to a perfectly good tostada, who am I to judge?

Engineers do those sorts of things.

“So, basically, you’re asking me to eat fish tacos?”, I challenged.

“Yeah.”, he admitted.

“Only if you serve it with Margaritas.”, I demanded. “Then, I’ll have a culprit.”

“Deal.”

I guess people do change.

And, once again, my mother is right.

Yes indeedy.

*And, though my stomach turns even as I write this, if this is your cup of tea, Sweetman found the recipe for these “Black Bean Salmon Tostadas” here. You’re welcome.  Or… I’m sorry.*

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Because I Can

Dear Sweet Children,

I know that you are a little sad that Daddy had to leave Florida to go back home to work.

I am too.

But, that’s what happens when you become an adult.  You have to stop All The Playing to do some work, too.

Don’t you stop playing though.

Play lots.

No. TONS.

Get real tired, okay?

And I know that you are a little nervous because I am going away for a few days.

But, you are going to have So Much Fun with The Nana and Captain Ahab – because they love you so.

And you will be going on such a grand adventure with them before we meet up in a few days.

I need you to know, though, that I will miss you both to smithereens.

And, do you know why?

Because I can.

You need to know all of this, sweet children.

Because, I’ll be calling to tell you that, “I Love You So Stinkin’ Much”, really soon.

Because I can.

And I do.

So…

Eat your strawberries.

Stay hydrated.

Be polite.

Go potty FOR THE LOVE.

Say your prayers.

Give The Nana a few extra snuggles (I think she’s going to need them because she’ll be missing me).

And remember that I Love you BOATLOADS and God loves you even more!

Until I See You Again,

Mama

P.S.  Ahab is going to try to get you to go to sleep without your noise machines.  Humor him, okay?  He’ll catch on after that first night.  Promise.

Teddybear Theology

Growing up, I had a teddy bear that was precious to me.  Preh-shus! I dubbed him, Tedward. I have no idea why.  I suppose my desire to name things anything other than the most popular or common names started young.

When Tedward was snuggled up with me, in my bed, I was able to sleep sweetly.  Tucked under my arm on car rides, I felt secure.  But most importantly, rubbing Tedward’s furry ear against my nose became a source of great comfort.  (Although, The Nana and Captain Ahab were thankful that rubbing his ear to my nose took the place of sucking my thumb. In the 4th grade!  I so wish I were kidding. Sigh… Braces for five years, anyone?)

Eventually, that furry ear became less and less furry.  He lost an eye.  At some point, the threading, that was his nose, seemed to disappear.  And, somewhere along the way, he developed a hole on the inside of one of his legs that led to much Losing Of The Stuffing. (If only it worked that way in real life.)

I didn’t give two hoots about any of that, though.  He was still my bear.  And I loved him so.  I imagine that God feels much the same way about me.  I have lost some of my stuffing (my fervor for him).  Sometimes, my ability to sniff out the truth is dulled.  My eyes zero in on one good thing to the exclusion of all the better things He has for me.  But, he loves me still.  Thank you God!

That bear was so important to me, and had seen me through so much joy and sorrow, that I even packed him in my suitcase for my wedding night.  Ask Sweetman.  He was a bit taken aback when I informed him that this would happen, but he knew that Tedward was important and he loved me.  (It also confirmed in my heart that THIS was the man for me!)

And now, you probably know far more than you ever wanted to about that.

Fast forward almost four years.  The Nana graciously spent the first two weeks of Sweetboy’s birth with Sweetman and I to see us through the crazy roller coaster ride of Brand Spankin’ New Parenthood.

She noticed, the day that we were to bring Sweetboy home from the hospital, that Tedward was on my bed.  And he was looking worn.  She also, in her wisdom, knew that the last thing I’d be thinking about, that first night home from the hospital, would be Tedward.  So, she packed him in her suitcase with the intent of performing a little Stuffed Animal Surgery.

Somewhere around day 4 of being home, sleep-deprived and hormone-infused, I asked her if she’d seen Tedward.  She calmly explained that she noticed he was a bit threadbare and wanted to take him back home with her to repair him.

We both forgot about him.  Sadly, for almost a decade.

Until last week.  Last week, we received a Valentine’s Box in the mail from The Nana.  And, among other treasures, here’s what was inside:

TedWard_Redo

You can read the note for yourself.  I cried.  And then practically hugged the stuffing right out of him.  He was instantly snatched from my hands by my Sweetgirl.  I attempted to chase after her and tell her his long and sweet history with me.  She had other intentions.

Please meet “Rosie Glitter”:

Tedwina

Oh. My. Stars.

Poor bear.

But, he is with me again.  Even if he’s now a she. And even if he’s been claimed by my children.

Much like my relationship with God.

Sometimes, I want to hug the stuffing right out of Him. He’s seen me through highs and lows.  He loves me no matter what and He’s always with me.  And I pray, oh how I pray, to pass my love for Him right on down to my sweet children. Oh, yes indeedy!

 

Just Call Me a Bouncing Donkey

Captain Ahab and The Nana have always called me “Pooh”.  There.  The cat is officially out of the bag.  We shall never speak of this again.

Except for today.

Sweetman, after dating me for a little, and hearing all about this “Pooh” business, determined that I was much more like Tigger – full of way too much energy and enthusiasm for his Eeyeore-ish, don’t wake me before 11 a.m. personality.  Thankfully, he also determined we paired up pretty nicely and that I was a “keeper”.

I have my sunshiney moments.  Doesn’t everyone?  But since becoming a mother, they often seem perfectly juxtaposed with my downward facing dog moments.  And I’m not talking about Yoga here peeps.  I find this frustrating.  I’d like to be all “even steven”, like Sweetman.  But, my nature is a bit more, um…outward. Yeah, let’s go with outward. Throw in a few mid-month hormones, and… SHOO-EE, things get exciting up in here.

Well, things got a little, ahem, “exciting” around here yesterday. You see, there have been three, differently colored, 1 foot by 1 foot paint swatches on the wall of the front foyer for, oh, let’s just say somewhere in the ballpark of 8 months now. I had consulted everyone who walked through my front door numerous friends on the three choices and had arrived at a nice medium rubbed grey. I finally, finally, bit the bullet and got to it yesterday. It should come as no surprise, then, that I went from elation, over having enough time and energy to finally paint the foyer this week, to utter despair upon finding that the paint color is NOT a rubbed grey.  No. It’s not.  And, more unfortunately, I didn’t really “get it” until I’d painted the entire space.  All. Day. Long.

Sweetboy summed it up quite nicely when he walked downstairs this morning. “Mama, I LOVE the new blue foyer.”  Rats!  But, in case his color picker is off, you tell me.  Is this a rubbed gray looking color to you?

Not_Grey

‘Zactly!

So, of course as soon as poor Sweetman walked in the door from work, I gave him a dramatic rendering of the situation to rival any Downton Abby episode.  I assure you.  To that he replied,  “Ohkaaaaaay.”  I was clearly no longer Pooh-ish or Tigger-ish, but solidly in the Eeyore camp.

For some odd reason, this whole exchange tickled his funny bone. “I love you my little bouncing donkey.”, he said. Now, it’s hard to be mad when your husband calls you “little” anything, am I right? But this made me madder than a hornet.

“I just want the walls to be grey!”, I declared with what teeny tiny oomph I had left.

I asked him to go check out the color.   He took one quick look and confirmed that they were indeed blue.

So, this donkey bounced her keester right on up to bed, praying for renewed strength right up until my head hit the pillow. “Please Lord, you can turn water into wine.  Please, turn my blue walls grey!” I pleaded.

I woke up this morning feeling much better. Re-energized and Tiggerish, in fact.

Until I came down the stairs and saw the blue walls. Sigh…

Bouncing donkey, indeed.

Should I repaint them now?  Should I wait until the Spring?  Will I want to bother come Spring? Can Lowes come repaint for me since I am convinced they mixed my paint color wrong? Does a paint color really matter?  Questions, questions…

Playing Around

As opposed to, you know, horsing around.  Because, y’all know I don’t do horses. Please excuse the mess today.  I’m playing with the theme of my blog and the background and the header and…
 
In the meantime, I was hoping you’d feel free to amuse yourself at my expense. Feel free to click on an “update” to any of these older posts while I get this thang all sorted out.
 
See ya in a few weeks days. Oh yes indeedy!
 
 
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Update: Um, the rebounder? The blessED, belovED, needED, rebounder? It was puked on this weekend. Just sayin’.
 
Update: I’m imagining an endless supply of stories that I’ll come back from Arkansas with when we go for a family wedding in April.  (More fun stuff always happens down South. It’s just true y’all.) 
 
Update: I‘m lovin’ Modcloth right now. Seriously.  Browsing around that site will help an hour disappear in seconds. For realz!
 
And lastly, and maybe my favorite, in a surprise turn of events – The Nana is becoming totally Tech Saavy. True Story!
 
Update: Straight from The Nana’s mouth, recently:
 
“I’d talk to Siri more – but Captain Ahab says she uses too much data! Whatever that means?”
 
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See now?  How fun is that?! Plus, I just helped you kill an hour, too.  Your welcome.
 

Tonka Town Girl

Used With Permission

 

My Sweetgirl is so… me. She’s one of those play-rough-but-pretty-it-up kinda girls. She’ll gladly pull out the cars to “VROOM!” with the boys.  And Holy Moses, does she know how to wield a Pirate’s sword!  But, if left to her own devices for too long, she’ll have each and every dress-up dress pulled out and tried on, with different shoes for each. Mention that you’re going to paint your toes and she’s at the ready with the most sparkly pink polish she can find for her own piggies.  Jewelry?  Yes please!

 

Apprehension doesn’t quite capture my feeling for that moment when we found out we were having a girl.  “A girl!?  What in the world will I do with a girl?”, I said aloud. You see, I grew up hunting and fishing with Captain Ahab. It took me a good long while to start to appreciate my femininity.

 

Meanwhile,  The Nana swooned with relief. The grandchild count, so far, included only boys.  “No sweet little girls to dress up!”, she lamented on more than eleventy occasions.  “Who will I go shopping with?”, she was often caught whining asking. We all knew it wasn’t going to be me!

 

At the time, I had to set about rehashing all of the reasons why I was glad that God knit me together as a girl.  There were plenty, yes. But, I’ve had to learn a few of them along the way.  Haven’t we all?

 

So many prayers for this Sweet girl-child of mine… Not the least of which is that she’ll retain her sense of adventure while displaying her femininity proudly. Some of the things that I pray Sweetgirl will learn to appreciate, about being a girl, are things that I still pray for, for myself.

 

It should come as no surprise, then, that I found great joy when I found her playing with this:

 

Thank you, Grampy, for the nostalgia-inducing Tonka Tin!

 

I picked it up to put it away and heard a rattle inside.  I was curious.  Wouldn’t you be?  It’s always interesting to me to see what kind of “treasures” my kidlets like to stow away inside of things.  I opened it up and found this:

 

 

I couldn’t have planned that photo op better myself!

 

I do believe she’s going to turn out just fine and dandy.  Yes indeedy.

 

Riveting Conversations

A few riveting conversation took place today after we got home from Church Camp.  Please try to contain your awe and excitement over the words you are about to read.

Sweetboy: “Mama, guess what? Elmer Fudd uses a lot of ‘W’s’ in his words.”

Me:  “Oh really?  Why do you think that is?”

Sweetboy:  “Because he speaks another language, probably.  Or, he’s missing lots of teeth.”    Oh, indeed!

To which Sweetman declared, “If you don’t blog about that, I will!”     I kindly reminded him that he does not, in fact, even have a blog.

And, not to be outdone in the Riveting Conversation Department, here’s Sweetgirl’s input for today:

Sweetgirl:  “Mama, does Nana know she wears a necklace on her foot?”

Me:  “I do believe she does, Sweetgirl.”     (You do, right Nana?)

And because Sweetdog truly is one of us, she limped in this afternoon saying (and I quote):

Sweetdog: “I need to go to the vet today as my leg hurts quite badly and I haven’t cost you guys the customary couple hundred dollars yet this month.”     If this dog could talk, I PROMISE you, that is exactly what she would say!

Therefore, I am off to the vet. Riveting. I know…