Babyproofed.

Apparently we have some work to do.

...and UGLY it was.

Our Ugly Christmas party was a success. As my dear friend KQ put it on her FB status update:

"you know it was a good party when everyone needs asprin the next morning, you go home in someone else's shoes, and you are drinking out of cups that say 'happy birthday jesus'. Good times!!! XOXOXO to all the partay peeps"

Pretty much sums up the night. Everyone brought their A game of ugly Christmas attire:

The white elephant gift exhange was a success:

Cookie decorating, not so much:

It's boring to act like adults all the time, right?

Happy Birthday JESUS!!!!

Okay, so I'm not perfect.

It was my turn to pick up B yesterday from school. We love where she goes, her teachers, the facility, she comes home every week and it seems she has learned something new.

I walked into her classroom last night and her teacher was sitting there with the other kiddos, but no Brooklyn. She let me know one of the other teachers had gone home early so B was up front with Kathie (the owner) in her office to make sure the kid/teacher ratio was in tact. So, I head her way and notice that Kathie has two parents, two other kiddos, and Brooklyn all in her office. I opened the door to interupt and Brooklyn comes running towards me 'Mama, mama, mama' and she is showing me something in her hand. I look closely and she has two thumbtacks so proudly displayed in her palm. I calmly grab them from her and hand them to Kathie and give her a WTF look. You could tell she was mortified, the other parents didn't even look up and I walked out without really saying anything.

Fast forward to conversation at home with the hubster:

D: How was B's day?
H: Good, she was in Kathie's office when I went to get her, one of her teachers had to leave early.
H: When I got her...she...uh...had two thumbtacks in her hand.
D: What the f***? She had what? She could have swallowed those, what the hell are they thinking. We pay them too much money for that shit to happen...
H: And she was in a parent meeting.
H: And there were two other kids in there.
D: WHAT THE HELL. That's it, I'm saying something first thing in the morning. That's bullshit.
H: It was an honest mistake....
D: Bullshit. Unacceptable.

While I know my husband is right, for some reason last night I just didn't say anything. I walked out, she was okay, not hurt, and I do sometimes understand that these things happen. I'm all about protecting my child but I suppose I'm more forgiving when I know the situation is already diffused. But, he's right. It's unacceptable.

First thing this morning he dropped her off, went straight into Kathie's office and let her know we felt and it will never happen again. She apologized and ensured Dom that we won't ever need to worry, she was very sorry, etc...everything you'd expect to hear. I genuinely believe her, so does Dom, and everything is on track and back to normal.

I am glad my husband is the way he is. He never hesitatates to say something, in any situation, and he's very good about getting things taken care of. I sort of regret not saying something now that I look back but appreciate my the hubs picking up my slack.

Been there before or are you PERFECT? :)

"I was country, when country wasn't cool..."

I heard that song last night while watching the CMA's and I can't stop singing it.

I was born in Texas. We have a ranch that has been in our family for years, we grew up hunting, fishing, bailing hay, watching big Texas thunderstorms roll in from the front porch. I've helped my dad run cattle through pens, fed a calf with a bottle, caught my first striper (that's a fish, not a misspelled word!) when I was 8, eaten lots of deer meat, dove, etc...

I'm country.
Or Southern.
Or something.

Let's say Southern, for some reason there is a necessary level of sophistication to go along with that. Again, Or something. It might be worth mentioning before I freak some of you out that I AM college educated, have traveled quite a bit (see Greece pic below, with camo pants I might add), love stiletto's, wine, fine dining, etc...but can also load a shotgun or shoot a crossbow. Mkay? Moving on...

My parents were hippies too though, loved themselves some classic rock and roll, smoked cigarettes on the curb at school, long hair, dad with the sideburns, you know "age of aquarius" type of stuff.So, growing up I got it all. Country, southern rock, even a little blues now and then. It's all stuck with me and I'm grateful for the exposure but nothing brings me closer to home than some good ol' country music.

The first song I learned to sing along to was Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers - "Islands in the Stream." Hell yeah - you know what I"m talking about.....(cricket sounds)...uh...right? I know just about every George Jones, Conway Twitty, Roseanne Cash, Charlie Daniels, Willie Nelson, Alabama, Restless Heart, George Strait, The Judds, Reba song out there. From the 80's, 90's, and on into today I know country music. It's part of me and I love it.

Being married to an Italian guy from New York poses quite the combination of musical interests as mentioned in my last post. When we got together he NEVER listened to country. He had that stereotypical twang "my dog ran away, my wife left, shoot my gun, where's my whiskey" idea of what country music was. Since then, well, he's changed a lot. It relaxes him, he says. And, well, he's been around my family now long enough to know he better like it. I'm talking Willie Nelson CD's play on Christmas Eve while my brothers where their camo coveralls around.

Living in a live music capital there is such a variety of music, a lot of alternatives, and haters of country music. At one point in my life I think I would even play down how much I loved it, trying to do the whole 'fit-in' as a freshman nightmare. OMG how exhausting. Moved long past that and last night while watching the CMA's it truly dawned on me that I was country, when country wasn't cool.

Yes, that is a budweiser hat and a coors light in my hand.

Shoes

I love shoes. I do. I mean I LOVE SHOES like I could marry them type of love. You can have on any outfit, put on the right pair of heels, flip flops, boots, wedge, sandal, and ta-da, you are FABULOUS.

I also firmly believe they set a tone. If you walk into a room with a rockin' pair of heels on people notice them and it says confidence. If you have on a wedge that is classy, but soft, you look sophisticated yet relaxed. Flip flop - lazy, fun, carefree, and ready to drink some beer. Boots mean the seasons are changing and it's time for some comfy sweaters and fantastic accessories. Shoes are awesome people, AWESOME.

That's why I owe 65+ pairs. Some of you may gasp because you think what the hell, that is too many and others may gasp and think oh my god that poor girl has no shoes. Whatever side you are on, just know that I know you have your own vices, mkay?

Insert life change - I had a daughter.

What does this mean? MORE SHOES!!! Her very first pair were a little ballerina slip-on that were leopard print with a tiny pink bow. Let's see, as a newborn she wore them NEVER. Because no one told me as a new mom that those things would not stay on unless you superglued them to their tiny little feet. They are proudly on display in her room though. Next in line is pair of pink cowboy boots that I bought while pregnant that she can't wear until she's about 2 - whatever, minor detail. She got a pair of black patent dress shoes for her first Christmas pictures. When I put them on with her dress they just didn't work so she went barefoot and those were worn NEVER. Over the summertime I bought her flip flops with a strap on the back. Worn NEVER because she was too fascinated with the piece that went between her toes, apparently she couldn't walk. What is the damn deal? When is my daughter going to learn that being stylish isn't always easy. GAWH!

Okay Brooklyn grandma - let's go for functional. I broke down and bought several pairs of Robeez, which while definitely functional they are not so cute. I mean, unless her boot cut jeans cover half of them up. But, they worked, she walked in shoes, and we're all good.

She's had those for several weeks and I decided last night with her upcoming fall festival, trip to see her Uncle this weekend, and the holidays around the corner we need to graduate back into fashionista. I bought her two pairs of boots and some fun sneakers for schools. The boots fa-reak-ing rock.

I put the black pair on her this morning with some leggings and I swear she stood there frozen, then picked up each leg as if I had tied a concrete block to the bottom of her foot. FINE! Robeez it is but when we get home the boots are back on for practice.

Judging me yet, I thought so. ;)

Trust me, I want what's best for my daughter, I really do. And what's best, is good taste in shoes. There is hope, though, as she loves my closet and tries to put mine on all the time. Except we really have to work on that look. She looks like she wants to choke somebody.

Sigh, baby steps.

"Oink, oink"

Bad mom moment #(whose counting anyway). Dressed my daughter in a onesie we got at my baby shower. You know the one you DEFINITELY didn't register for, but someone thought it was cute anyway. I have a sense of style, and if we are going anywhere with Brooklyn I make sure she does too. But, around the house, eh, who cares.

She cares.
If you look closely the front has a pig on it, and the back - THE BACK! - it has a tail and says 'oink, oink.'

Ahahahaha.

Traumatic.

And now, looking back, I suppose I would have cried my ass off too. Putting any female in ANYTHING that has 'oink, oink' on your ASS is a straight ticket to see a shrink.

Sorry binker, won't happen again! ;)