Guess How Much I Love You

When our kids were babies, I read some books so many times I had some of the rhyming ones memorized. I never had this one down, but I read it a million times....and sadly, every time I got to the last pages, I'd get a little teary eyed. Every time!

It expressed exactly the love I've always felt for my kids. So much so, that I incorporated the last line into a tattoo with their initials that I proudly have on my shoulder.

When I think of our babies, stretching their arms wide to say they loved us "this much" and we could stretch our arms wider, and say we loved them THAT much more....and as their mom, that has never changed. I love them more than I can tell them, more than I can show them, just more.

I still have the baby board book I read to them, and I can see myself reading it to my grand kids...and I'm pretty sure I'll still get choked up when I get to the end!

"I love you right up to the moon," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

"That is very, very far."

Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves.

He leaned over and kissed him good night.

Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile,

"I love you right up to the moon ~ and back."

Our Love Songs

Our Love songs are a bit dark, but when we hear these two songs, our hands squeeze, our eyes always met, and we smile those secret smiles....the ones that say 'I love you' and 'We are so lucky' and 'I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.'....the ones that make our kids roll their eyes and say, "They are talking without words again!"

It's Valentine's Day, but we don't do anything special for it because, here's where it gets sappy folks, every day with my husband is a day we celebrate our love. I know. You can put your puke bowls, away, I'm done!

These two songs are ours. And in honor of this universal day of love, I'm posting them for my husband. I have loved him for 18 years, more than half my life, and I know I have been blessed.

"Far Side Banks of Jordan"

I'll Admit My Steps Are Growing Wearier Each Day

Still I've Got A Certain Journey On My Mind

Lures Of This Old World Have Ceased To Make Me Want To Stay

My One Regret Is Leaving You Be-hind

If It Proves To Be His Will That I Am First To Cross

And Somehow I've A Feeling It Will Be

When It Comes Your Turn To Travel

Likewise Don't Feel Lost

For I Will Be The First One That You'll See

I'll Be Waiting On The Far Side Banks Of Jordan

I'll Be Sitting Drawing Pictures In The Sand

When I See You Coming I Will Rise Up With A Shout

And Come Running Through The Shallow Water Reaching For Your Hand

Through This Life We've Laboured Long

To Earn Our Meagre Fare

It's Brought Us Trembling Hands And Failing Eyes

So I'll Just Rest There On That Shore

And Turn My Eyes Away Until You Come

Then We'll See Paradise

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

Love of mine some day you will die

But I'll be close behind

I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white

Just our hands clasped so tight

Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide

That they both are satisfied

Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you

When your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark

Little Dog Running

While in Seattle last week, I saw something outside that tickled my funny bone and I jotted it down on a scrap of paper so I wouldn't forget it.

Then I forgot about it until my husband picked it up off the table and asked who wrote it...I'm guilty. I was going to blog about it, but I like how I wrote it, kind of like a poem. So I'm not going to change it from it's original idea.

Today I saw - scene of a

cartoon movie

Dog, little, black with green sweater

blue leash dragging

Running.

Nothing.

30 seconds later, old Dude

winded, running, politely calling

whoa little doggy.

It was pretty funny. That dog had at least half a block on the old guy, and it sure didn't look like the guy was going to catch up.

Freedom! Freedom from green sweaters and sedate walks.

What Kind Of Parents Are We?

Nice ones!

If you've seen Holes, you know that is a take on one of the funniest movie lines. If you haven't seen it, the quote and the sarcasm are lost on you. Sorry!

We are somehow raising very good kids. Don't want to toot my own horn, but they are smart, funny, well behaved (minus a bit of bleach spilling and window breaking), and I'm not sure how we have done it. Must be the Beagles. Beagles make everything better.

But we have two things we've done to them that we still laugh about hysterically, while at the same time we agree that is a sign of terrible parenting.

D was scared of a book about a village of people unhappy about their life. They took whatever made them unhappy and put it on a clothes line. Sounds scary, I know. The part that freaked him out was the Bakers Red Hair. The baker hated his red hair, so HE TOOK IT OFF. All we had to say was "Bakers Red Hair" and D would be totally upset.

L did not like an old Barbie of mine that happened to be Bald. Completely hairless. It was one of those fake Barbies you can buy at the dollar store, and the weird thing was it didn't even have any holes in it's head where hair might have once come out of. It was all fine when the barbie had her stocking hat on, but start to pull that hat off, and L would start to cry and run away.

Guess how much enjoyment we got from saying "Bakers Red Hair" or slowly tugging that stocking hat off Bald Barbie?

I am ashamed to say, way too much. So much that it's been years since we did it, years since we owned those two fear inducing things, and we still laugh when we talk about it.

Yep. What kind of parents are we?

If you ask us, funny ones. If you ask our kids, well, they might need counseling when they are adults.

Especially since D recently said he was worried about someone hiding in the shower and jumping out and getting him, and Dad promptly did that very thing. It was no Bakers Red Hair, though.

Nothing will top that.

Oh No She Didn't

Two words strike fear into my country music loving heart: Carrie. Underwood.

That's right. She is the personification of everything I don't want country music to be. Her song "Before He Cheats" was promising, but then she sucked it all back down into the sugary sweet sappiness that is her music.

One of my favorite David Allen Coe songs mentions how to write the perfect country western song, but you need to have momma, or trains, or trucks, or prison or gettin' drunk in it. He then went on to sing a verse about being drunk the day his momma got out of prison, how he went to pick her up in the rain, driving his pick up truck, but she got run over by a train.

Now if that ain't country....
Carrie Underwood's first song had what I'd like to say is the perfect makings of a number one hit for the sheeple. "Jesus Take the Wheel" mentions momma and daddy, a baby, poor decisions, and that hit maker, Jesus. As soon as I heard the first verse of that gag inducing song, I thought, crap. She's got a hit. People are going to love this.

And they did. And it was. And now she has done something that goes beyond all belief. She has gone and remade the Randy Travis hit, "I Told You So."

Why? Why would she take one of the greatest songs of all time by a country singer who was the first country music act in history to achieve multi-platinum status, and try to sing it? She has only made it truly cringe worthy. I can't even listen to it.

And don't tell me it's a form of flattery. No. Randy Travis can be emulated by artists covering his songs in about 75 years....when no one can remember the shivers they got the first time they heard him sing. He helped bring back a vintage sound to country music that was much missed, and he paved the ways for guys like Alan Jackson to come along.

In other words, Randy Travis is freaking awesome.
All though, in my research, I did find out that Randy Travis gave Carrie her invitation to the Grand Ole Opry and said she did a better job than he did singing "I Told You So." Huh. Well, to each his own I guess.

Next thing we know, Carrie Underwood will be singing "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" or "Ring of Fire" or worse, "Hello Darling." Some things in country music should be sacred and never messed with.

Unless it's Kelly Pickler covering a song. She's all right.

Confession Of The Month

I cut my own bangs.

Whew! What a relief to say that and not hide behind excuses!

When I go to get my hair cut, the stylist always asks if I cut my bangs. I usually have some lame, wishy-washy, hemming and hawing, before I say something along the lines of, "I did trim a bit a few weeks ago....."

Truth is I hate getting my hair cut. I tell a funny story (funny to me, but maybe not to my Mom!!) about how I trace my hatred of hair cuts to my Mom cutting my bangs, accidentally cutting my eyelid, and saying, "hold still, I'm almost done." That's not really the reason, but it makes people laugh, and as I have recently admitted, I lie all the time.

I hate sitting in that chair, forced to chit chat, while some one I do not know puts their hands on my person! I don't like how close the stylist gets, I hate it when a boob accidentally grazes me, and I have an old childhood fear of lice. Duh, stylists are super clean and they aren't going to give me lice, but if you grew up in the 70's and 80's you might remember the constant lectures about not letting people touch your hair, or share your comb or hats....it's carried over to being an adult and I shudder any time I see kids touching each other's hair.

So, I hardly ever get my hair cut. That means I either have to grow my bangs out, and frankly my forehead isn't made for that look, or I have to cut my own bangs.

I'm not saying I'm good at it. I'm just saying I cut them, and I'm not going to lie about it.

At least, I won't lie about it right now. My next hair cut is an entirely different story!

Superbowl Resolutions

Once again I've attended a Superbowl party. Once again, I'm not sure how this happened. I don't even understand the rules of football, let alone, seriously enjoy a game! Regardless, this is becoming a tradition so I've come up with a few resolutions to follow from now on.

1. I will not pack a bag of things to do, like a book to read or photo's to crop. I never do any of it. Mind you, I'm not engrossed in the game, I'm just talking with my Mom and sisters. But I never do any of the boredom busting things I've packed, so officially, it is a waste of time to pack it in the first place.

2. I will be more aware of what I eat. I won't bring my food journal, or maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea, and I won't bring my food scale, but I will stop grazing at the snack table. I will still eat the chips and the cookies and the pizza dip, but I will put it on the plate so I can see what I'm eating! I'm still feeling sick the morning after.

3. I will pay more attention to the TV because I missed some of my favorite parts of Superbowl Sunday: the commercials! I had to go online and see Conan O'Brien in a way I'm not sure anyone should have ever seen him. My favorite commercial was the one for pet adoption: the old lady chasing her pet ostrich, saying "bad bird" was so funny. And frankly, everyone should have a dog. It would make the world a better place!

4. I will try to know who is playing in the Superbowl before I actually arrive at the party. It's as simple as looking online, but I just had a vague idea of it being Arizona and another team. And on the morning after, I will remember who won....all I can say right now is, the other team won! They wore yellow and white uniforms and that's all I know.

I do not go to the Superbowl party because I am a fan of football. I go because I am a fan of family and fun and food, and I get all those things in loads! Laughing with my sisters, eating my Mom's yummy food, watching my little nephews be silly and my own kids be the cool big cousins....that's the Superbowl party for me.