Baby Fat Rebellion

by on Jul 06, 2012 (Comments Off on Baby Fat Rebellion) Comments

As my baby fat careens towards its 29th birthday it has decided to stage a rebellion against the waistband of my pants.  Being a product of the Olivia Newton John “Grease” Era of painted on pants that came decades before we were to learn that camels had toes that were to be watched for in dressing room mirrors, I’ve always felt my pants were relatively form fitting without having to watch over my shoulder for zoo keepers or wildlife activists.  Standing in my closet this morning trying to decide which pair of capris to wear, my fat let me know in no uncertain terms, it was much happier in the cute little cargo pants with the drawstrings than in the standard denim with the confining zip-up fly and button.  Oh, but tough love dies hard.  I tucked that baby fat roll down into the waist band of the denim pants and told it to behave itself or there would be no ice cream after dinner tonight!

Fashion Consultants

by on Jul 03, 2012 (Comments Off on Fashion Consultants) Comments

In the process of getting ready to my trip to Canada to film a television series, I have had to spend weeks making arrangements so ensure that my family, my house, my business, my dog and my cat will all survive my absence. The last month has been a whirlwind of activities involving interviewing for a nanny, a caregiver for my elderly mother, making lots of meals to keep in the freezer, getting my client caseload all up-to-date, and more. The last thing on the list was that I had to spend some time shopping to spruce up my wardrobe. pink shopping bags

On the second-to-last day before departure, I finally had everything caught up and arranged to have the new nanny stay with my kids so I can spend the entire day shopping. It was a great plan… until the nanny got sick. The nanny called and couldn’t make it.

I still needed to shop. It was time for emergency plans. Bribery! The kids were promised unspeakably unhealthy food, treats and rewards if they would come with me without any complaints. I explained that this shopping trip was very important and that I needed them to just tag along. Hitting the greed nerve worked beautifully. They were totally up for the trip.

This day of shopping became quite an eye-opener for me. I learned that my children have very strong opinions about fashion and are more than willing to voice them. Gracie immediately took on the role of personal shopper and started loading me up with clothes in colors and patterns that any 10-year-old fashionista would be proud to wear. Jack, took on the role of giving the male perspective by offering a thumbs-up or thumbs-down every time I emerged from the dressing room.sun dress with hat

Our day of shopping, although not the most efficient outing, became a day of laughter, surprises (I actually liked some of the clothes Gracie picked out) and lots of fun. My kids were thrilled that they had been such a help to me and their presence turned a boring event into a family memory.

Then it was time for cheeseburgers at McDonald’s and dessert at Maggie Moo’s for a job well done. I think I can actually hear my arteries clogging but it’s worth it.

Cellulite My Rear End

by on Jun 29, 2012 (Comments Off on Cellulite My Rear End) Comments

Standing in the dressing room at Marshall’s the other day I tried on the cutest little top.fitting room  Looking into the dressing room mirror I was horrified to see that the stark florescent lights illuminated a small patch of dimpled skin on both of my biceps.   Years ago, I decided to accept gracefully the cellulite that took up residency on my hind quarters.   I even managed to be a gracious host as it has slowly made its journey south to my upper thighs over the past few years as I careened furiously toward fifty.  But I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of watching that mess flap around on my arms while I’m swinging my golf clubs all summer long!  I immediately went and bought the strongest anti-cellulite serum I could find.

Big Sister Wisdom

by on Jun 26, 2012 (Comments Off on Big Sister Wisdom) Comments

In one week I’ll be leaving to begin a media project out of the country that’s related to my professional job as a cat behaviorist. I will be gone for a few weeks and I’ve been trying to prepare Gracie and Jack for my absence. I have hired a nanny, arranged for all kinds of fun adventures for them and we’ve had countless talks about why Mommy has to be gone.passport

Several of our discussions have ended in tears as my children sit on the bed and cling to me. I’ve tried to be a stoic mom but anyone who knows me knows I can dissolve into a puddle of tears during a Spongebob Squarepants cartoon.

Last night, after prayers, my kids were in their usual position of being tucked in my arms as they sobbed and talked about how much they’d miss me and then suddenly things changed. Gracie sat up straight and looked directly as Jack with a certain sparkle in her eyes. From previous experience, I could tell that she was having one of those nine-year-old light bulb moments.gift box I watched as she scooted over to her brother and put her arms around him. My heart lifted as I anticipated the pearls of big sister wisdom that were about to pass Gracie’s lips. Instead, she reminded him that Mommy always brings presents home when she travels.

The mood in the room changed from tears of sadness to squeals of anticipation. They have even offered to help me pack.

I feel so loved.

Ice Cream Envy

by on Jun 21, 2012 (Comments Off on Ice Cream Envy) Comments

Kae’s brain is best if not left unoccupied.  On our recent 9 hour trip to Chicago, I was relegated to the back seat so that my father-in-law could act as co-pilot.  This effectively thwarted any of David’s and my usual philosophical debates of life, liberty and the pursuits of happiness we always partake in on these long journeys north of the Mason Dixon line.  About six hours into the trip, bored to tears, I started a campaign to stop for ice cream.  Sitting in the back seat, happily eating my hot fudge sundae, I began to ponder……  As kids, adults try to bribe us to eat all of our dinner by telling us if we do we can have ice cream for dessert.  As adults, we try to bribe ourselves into NOT eating all of our dinner by telling ourselves if we don’t we can have ice cream for dessert.  Surely there is some lost work by Freud on this phenomenon.ice cream sundae

Meeting the Girls

by on Jun 19, 2012 (Comments Off on Meeting the Girls) Comments

Kae and I spent a wonderful weekend signing books at a baby shower expo. In addition to meeting soon-to-be moms, new moms, grandmothers, dads and lots of kids, we had the opportunity to do lots of people-watching.

The first thing I noticed was that several moms-to-be these days really celebrate and enjoy how much their “girls” blossom and expand. Now, since I am an adoptive mother and have never been pregnant, perhaps I don’t truly appreciate how difficult it is to keep those things harnessed, but there was truly a boob-a-thon going on in front of our table. And when several moms reached into their cleavage to retrieve their credit cards or cell phones, I had to look away. I guess that if the girls are going to balloon up that much you might as well take advantage of the fact that they provide extra storage capacity.

Next, I noticed that many very, very pregnant women had extremely long and elaborately painted fingernails. As I watched them struggle to pull credit cards out of their wallets I could only think of how quickly those beautiful long nails will go once the baby comes. In fact, I started thinking about how many “girly” things go out the window when you become a mom. Just the fact that you can take a shower and wash your hair will become a luxury. Where in the world would you find time to have someone paint flowers on your fingernails? As I watched one woman in particular, who had frighteningly long nails, I wondered whether she grew them that long just to be able to reach certain body parts when they needed scratching?

Thank you to everyone who came out to meet us. We loved meeting you and we hope that our book gives you a few laughs as you ride that roller coaster known as motherhood.

My Little Gaugey-Face

by on Jun 14, 2012 (Comments Off on My Little Gaugey-Face) Comments

Back in the 1980’s when I diligently hauled my on-again,  off-again pregnant self to accounting classes it never occurred to me that I was setting myself up to be abandoned by my family in the future.  Who would have thought that by the very choice of these seemingly innocent classes in the course catalog I was setting into motion an annual tidal wave of chaos that would threaten to pummel me against the very granite desktop I so lovely adore the rest of the year.  But this is exactly what has happened.  Every year with the turning of the calendar to the New Year, a storm called Tax Season is unleashed and by the end of March it has reached its full and unbridled fury.  When my children were in school, this escalation in the annual onslaught and the kids’ spring break seemed to coincide with remarkable accuracy.  For years, every spring I would watch as David drove out of the driveway with our suburban packed to the gills with our three kids and all the things three kids need for a week in Florida with their Grandparents.  When I could no longer see the tail lights of the car, I would go back into the house, close the door and bask in the peace and quiet that a woman with three kids, three dogs and husband that works out of the house almost never gets to hear.white boxer puppy

This year, as David is getting ready to take his parents and Fred, our female goldendoodle, to Florida to visit with his sister, Sandi and our niece, Stephie for spring break, I began to worry.  Okay, now is where you are thinking,  Oh, poor Kae, she is afraid to be in that big old creaky, let’s face it, kind of scary old house by herself at night.  No, that’s not even remotely the issue.  The truth is, after years of living in chaos, I’m concerned that when everyone goes home at 5:00, I won’t have anybody to talk to and no one to fuss over until the next morning.

So I figured out a brilliant solution, I borrowed my grandpuppy, Gauge, from my daughter Jess who lives in Tullahoma.  He is a four-month-old white boxer puppy with the cutest little face in the whole world.  Mr. Guagey-Face and I had a wonderful time together.  I explained to him on our first morning together that I was not a morning person and that is was important that he should hold his water until I finished my first cup of coffee.  He promptly stretched back out on his back with is paws above his head and went back to sleep until I got out of bed.  Never once did he wake me up to go potty.  Every morning we would snuggle in bed and discuss the fact the he could never be an accountant because his little paw pads were too stubby.  But lucky for him his Mommy has a good day job and can keep him in Kibbles and Bits.  During the day he got to play with his doggie cousins, Windsor and Palamaloo.  In the evening we would look at the pretty flowers in the garden, eat our dinner,  then he would drag his white towel out of the bathroom and pile it up behind my desk and settle in for a long evening of work.  He was exactly what this crazy old lady needed.  Jess had originally said I could keep Mr. Gaugey-Face for two weeks but I knew she would miss him and I would be lucky if I got him for a whole 7 days.  We sent pictures home to show Mom how much fun we were having hoping that this would buy us an extra day or two but nope, that darned old intuition of mine was right on point.  Jess wanted my Mr. Gaugey-Face back on Sunday.  Saturday, I made sure that I soaked in as much of Mr. Gaugey-Face as I could.  We played in the yard, he helped me carry laundry down to the laundry room, he got lots of extra treats and tickles.  That night when it was time for bed, I counted his little paw pads and rubbed his freckled tummy for an extra long time until he fell asleep.white boxer

Just before Jess was coming to pick Gauge up in the morning he did his morning business right where she normally parks her car in the pea gravel.  I went inside and got a plastic ba,g joking with Gauge that just because he didn’t want to leave his Grandma didn’t mean he could poop where his Momma parks.  He trotted over to show me where he pooped just in case I missed it somehow.  Just as I was about to pick up the parcel I noticed something was not quite as it should be.  There squirming around on the top of the otherwise average looking pile of Guagey-Face poop was a little white worm.

And yep, just like that, all my sadness about Mr. Gaugey-Face having to go home with his Momma completely disappeared.  God love the little bugger but I have done my time with mange, worms and fleas.  This grand-human does not do worms!

Grill Tongs to the Rescue

by on Jun 07, 2012 (Comments Off on Grill Tongs to the Rescue) Comments

I have had enough of the wildlife around our house lately. Apparently I had been living in my own little bubble as I had thoroughly enjoyed watching the birds, the deer and bunnies munch away in my backyard. For the most part, it has been a Disney-like experience as I would sit on my back deck because the wildlife, with the exception of the occasional wayward fly, wasp or suspicious looking spider, have always followed the rules: they stayed on the outside.

Things changed when my daughter caught a mouse that was scurrying around in my dining room. Even at that, I knew it was bound to happen that an unfortunate mouse may someday find itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. I soon learned though that there’s never just “one” mouse. Mice have families and our little mouse was no exception. He and the rest of his rodent Brady Bunch had made themselves at home somewhere behind the walls of my kitchen.

Gracie, the brave child who captured a mouse barehanded, opened the kitchen drawer the other day and backed away quickly while calling frantically for me. By the look on her face I figured another mouse or evidence of a mouse was in there. When she then screamed the word “SNAKE!” all visions of Disney wildlife quickly left my head. There, slithering around in my utensil drawer was a rather large snake. Ok, it may not have really been large but I’m resorting to my girly rights here where I can, without hesitation, claim that anything crawling, flying, jumping or slithering INSIDE my house is HUGE.

I told Gracie to run out to the garage and get her daddy. Within seconds, my husband appeared, wearing a heavy winter coat, gloves, work boots and a terrified look on his face. Despite the heavy apparel, it was obvious that my husband was a snake novice. The snake must’ve known it as well because he continued to move around the drawer without any concern for the three humans who were staring bug-eyed at him.

The snake must’ve gotten bored being the center of attention because he then slid behind the drawer. Now the little bugger was somewhere behind my kitchen cabinets. I informed my husband that we had two options: he could start tearing the kitchen apart or we could just move… immediately. He knew I was serious.

I took the children and spent the day (and most of the evening) away from the house. My husband and some members of his construction crew tended to the kitchen.

We never found the snake but all possible entrances have been thoroughly sealed and all appropriate mice removal devices (humane ones – I’m still a softie at heart) have been installed.

Even so, it will probably be a while before I stop opening the kitchen drawers without using a pair of grill tongs.

Can Kae Learn Spanish?

by on Jun 03, 2012 (Comments Off on Can Kae Learn Spanish?) Comments

In May on 2013 David and I are going on the second of our “bucket list” trips to Machu Picchu.  I have made it my mission not to go to another Spanish-speaking country armed with the only two phrases of Spanish I know—which are how to order a beer and how to ask where the bathroom is.  When I told David of my latest hair brained idea, which is to learn Spanish, I was met with his metaphorical pat on the head, that’s a nice idea, dear response.  I guess my earlier attempt to earn Arabic was still fresh in the air.  But in my defense, Arabic was really, really hard.   In an effort to spur me on to greatness, he made me a bet. Laughingly we agreed that any language this southern girl could master, we would take extra trips that are not on the bucket list to the countries where they speak that language.   Whoo Hoo!!!   Spain here we come!!!!

Barehanded Bravery

by on May 29, 2012 (7) Comments

Yesterday Gracie and I decided to compete in a serious one-on-one game of Bananagrams. You would think that being an accomplished writer and an adult, that I could easily wipe the floor with my nine-year-old daughter’s limited vocabulary. Well, you would be wrong. I have learned over the last few months of being Bananagrammed by Gracie that my attempt to create long words with many letters is never a success over her skill at creating multiple three and four letter words.

Despite my repeated previous losses, I willingly engaged in yet another word match. We were actually having a great time laughing and feverishly competing when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. My dog was hopping around on the floor. Griffin is not a dog who hops. I glanced over and sure enough, he was hopping. I looked closer and saw the reason for the behavior. There was a mouse skittering around on the floor and every time Griffin tried to sniff it, the mouse would run and it would scare my dog (Griffin is cute but not the least bit brave).

I reacted in the typical girly way that millions of wimpy women before me have done. I screamed “Mouse!” and frantically reached for the phone to call my husband.

“Come home now,” I cried into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Asked my clueless husband.

“Come home,” I repeated even more desperately.

“What’s wrong?” My clueless husband asked again, probably thinking there surely must be blood all over the house due to someone’s severed limb.

“It’s a… a…,” I sniffled, ”a…”

“Mommy?” I heard my daughter’s calm voice and spun around, convinced that the huge mouse must have her cornered somewhere. “Mommy, I have the mouse,” she calmly said while holding her cupped hands out in my direction. “What do you want me to do with it?”

My daughter, fresh from her role as zookeeper in the school musical, had apparently reached under the table and casually caught the mouse barehanded.

“Take it outside,” I screamed, still stunned. Then I turned my attention back to the phone and my desperately confused husband. “Never mind,” I calmly said.

I now know who will be responsible for all rodent removal in our home.