My apology to Paige and Jeremiah

I was so upset after the Season Finale of “Sweet Home Alabama 3” that I couldn’t even sleep.  She didn’t pick Bubba.  She. Didn’t. Pick. Bubba.  Not that I had anything against Jeremiah, but… she didn’t pick Bubba.  I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it. 

Well, in the days since Friday night’s episode, all kind of new information has emerged about Paige and Jeremiah, and their love story.  Now I can’t sleep because I feel guilty for ever doubting her decision.   I feel like I need to make a public apology to this sweet couple. 

My husband says that I don’t really know how to say I’m sorry or admit I’m wrong.  He says I always turn it around and put the blame on someone else.  I’m not going to do that, but I DO think I should point out that my opinions were based on what information I had available.  Meaning that, CMT hopped on the Bubba bandwagon and let her run.  I’m not BLAMING them… heck, I was practically DRIVING the wagon… but I do think clever, and perhaps somewhat unbalanced editing/producing, had the majority of the female population (at least in the South) envisioning little Bubba babies in Paige’s future. 

I just realized I’ve used Bubba’s name half a dozen times in a blog that was supposed to be an apology to Paige and Jeremiah.  Sorry again, guys. 

Anyway, back to the real love story there.  Did you know that Paige lost her job as a NASCAR spokesperson and got a job offer (which she accepted) in Minnesota.   She had to be thinking… Minnesota???  What in the world is in Minnesota?  I mean, that’s what *I* would have been thinking.  Did you know that Paige wrote letters to her mom during Season 2 and started doing the same on Season 3? She didn’t have anybody to really confide in, so she wrote to her mom.  She says her letters to her mom very early on indicate that she can’t get Jeremiah off her mind.   Did you know that Jeremiah snuck her some letters he had written?  They told her how he REALLY felt… the things he didn’t say on camera.  Which, by the way, is not fair, Jeremiah! How could we be expected to root for you when we don’t know what you’re thinking?? Bubba  Shoot.  Some of the other guys were very open to the camera about their feelings.  Did you know that from that moment, Paige started writing letters back to Jeremiah and saving them for him to read after the taping concluded? 

After hearing more about the real love story, I’m 100% Paige and Jeremiah.  I hope they are the next Trista and Ryan.  And I hope Bubba the other guys all find their special someone.

Oh, and by the way, what in the world IS in Minnesota?  Jeremiah.  His hometown is an hour away from Paige’s new job. 

It was meant to be. 

Gigi...*shaking my head*

Gigi goes to speech therapy two times a week to help with a few sounds she has trouble with.  She takes this very seriously and we do “homework” all week so she can practice her sounds.  Last week, she had a list of words to practice and use in a sentence. 

ME:                        Can you use the word COLOR in a sentence?

GIGI:                     What’s a sentence?

ME:                        Like, “My favorite color is green”. Now use the word BUCKET in a sentence.

GIGI:                     Okay.  Some people buy some BUCKETS and they put ‘em upside down and they hide balls under them and try to let people guess which BUCKET the ball is under, and sometimes they try to trick you and you don’t know which BUCKET the ball is under and…

She obviously struggles with the whole sentence concept, and confuses “sentence” with “short story”.   

ME:                        Okay, good job.  Now use COAT in a sentence.

GIGI:                     Sometimes my mama lets me drink COAT when I’m sweaty. 

Haha.  And as she says this, I glance over to see Yuri rolling her eyes.  Oh well, close enough.

ME:                        Alright.  Now use CORN in a sentence.

GIGI:                     Rain makes CORN.  CORN makes whiskey. 

………………………………… The end. 

It's Bristol, baby!

To my family and friends: this is a blog about NASCAR.  If you aren’t a fan, you might as well stop reading because it will mean nothing to you. 

Now, for the 3 of you left…

There’s been a lot of Twitter talk since Sunday’s race at Bristol.  The stands were not full, and it’s been said that the racing was bad.  I was THERE and here’s my opinion…

The stands were not full.  The stands were not 80% full.  They were maybe 60% full.  Maybe there were more tickets sold than that, but all those ticketholders did not show up.   I don’t know why – Economy? Maybe.  Gas prices? Could be.  Bad racing? Possibly.  Dale Jr hasn’t won since 2008? Hmmm.  All I know is that it makes me sad to be at the most exciting track on the circuit with empty seats all around me. 

I can also tell you that this was probably the least exciting Bristol race I’ve seen.  Yes, there was some side-by-side racing, but there were also a lot of cars getting lapped.  When you’re running 12^th and in constant danger of getting lapped, the field is too spread out. 

Having said that, in my opinion, a day of “bad” racing is better than a day of no racing.  I love everything about it.  When I get to choose where we go on date night, do you think I choose dinner and a movie?  Nope!  Take me to the dirt track!! If I didn’t have a husband, a job, and six kids, I would be a NASCAR groupie and follow them from track to track.  Surely I could get a job washing motor homes or something. 

Part of the reason I enjoy the race even when the race may not be exciting to everybody else is because I am interested in the stories behind the driver.   I love the story of Brian Vickers, the guy who missed most of 2010 because of blood clots in his legs and lungs, started 2012 without a ride, and then led a butt-load of laps at Bristol on Sunday.  I loved watching Kevin Harvick (who has been married to DeLana 11 years and is awaiting the birth of their first baby in July) get caught up in a wreck and battle back from 30^th position to finish 11^th.  He drove every single lap like his life depended on it, picking off positions one-by-one.  I love hearing the vast majority of fans boo Kyle Busch.  I know, I know… he’s talented and like him or not, you have to respect him.  Blah, blah.  I just feel bad for his mama.  If 100,000 people booed my baby boy, I’d go postal. 

And Dale Jr… don’t get me started.  If that boy would just win one race, Junior Nation would be revived and empty seats would not be a problem.  I thought he might pull it off on Sunday, but it wasn’t meant to be.  I’m a closet Dale Jr fan.  Call me a snob, but I don’t own Mardi Gras beads or a beer funnel, so I just feel like I can’t openly be a fan-- but I do like him.  By the way, note to the dude at Bristol with the beer funnel: I saw you stick that hose in at least 50 different mouths.  Germs, people, germs. 

It’s Bristol, baby.  Maybe not the old Bristol with the bumping and rubbing and wrecking, but I understand that there’s some influential big man who is listening to complaints and considering making the track like it was prior to 2007.  That would be awesome, but even if it doesn’t work out, I’m a fan.  Now and always. 

I'm a hog

I don’t often remember what I’ve dreamed about, but when I do, I always wonder what it means.  When I dream about food (mashed potatoes visit me often during slumber), I wonder if I went to bed hungry.  My luck, I gain weight in my sleep just from dreaming about food. 

Willard seldom mentions his dreams to me, but he had a doozy this week.  Let me back up and tell you that I remember waking up during the night Wednesday night to him hugging up to me and saying something about me dying.  Dying?  Geez.  I remember it, but I was asleep so I didn’t quiz him until the next morning. 

ME:        Did you dream I died?

HIM:      You didn’t just die, I killed you.

ME:        Well, that wasn’t nice.

HIM:       Sorry, baby.  I didn’t have a choice.  You were turning into a rabid, wild hog.    

ME:        (mean look)

HIM:       Don’t look at me.  You were the hog.  You even had a snout and everything. 

So, now I gotta wonder what HIS dreams mean.  I know I’ve gained weight lately, but dang…

First love

I am so bummed.  I made the cutest video of Yuri, but I can’t get it to upload.  Blah.  I’ll do my best to tell the story but I really wish you could see the video.

Yuri’s boyfriend is a cutie named Bryce.  When she got in the car after school yesterday, she had an invitation to his birthday party.  When Karlie read the invitation to me, I said “Oh no, that’s the weekend I’ll be in Bristol.   Yuri and Gigi will be at the lake so she won’t get to go to the party”.  From the backseat, we hear almost an animal-like moan which we ultimately discovered was coming from Yuri. 

Yuri:   “Bryceeeeee!  I’m so sorrrryyyyyy.  I crossed my heart I would be there.  I’m so sorrrrryyyyyy….” 

Huge crocodile tears.  Huge.  Sobbing.  Inconsolable.  (You know she’s 5, right?) 

F-I-V-E!!

She goes to her room and throws herself across her bed, staring forlornly at the invitation and then clutching it to her heart.  This is where the video starts:

ME:                 Yuri, I know you’re sad.  We will try to work something out, ok?”

YURI:              Ok.  I want to go.  Bryce is my boyfriend.  He’s my HUSBAND. 

ME:                 Oh. Wow. Well, what makes Bryce so special?

YURI:              His hair.  And his smile.  I like his eyes.  And the way he talks…. *sigh*

It’s obvious to me that missing this party would be a traumatic experience that could potentially alter the path of her life.  I’ve got a plan in place and hopefully we can work it out.  I would hate to think I was responsible for keeping these little soulmates apart.  Did I mention she’s FIVE??? 

On a happier note, Gigi has been going to speech for a couple of weeks now and she has mastered her first assignment.  She was having problems with the “K” sound… so “okay” sounded like “otay”, “keys” sounded like “tees”, etc.  She’s been working hard on the “cuh” sound and, by golly, she got it!

P.S. Say a prayer for me.  I think I have the stomach virus that has been going around, which I don’t have time for.  We have speech at 10:00, Baby A’s pictures at 1:00, I have to cook food for a funeral by 4:00, and we have t-ball practice at 5:00.  (Haley’s game got canceled or I’d have one more thing to add to the list).  Karlie is in a pageant tomorrow night and Haley has a softball tournament (far away) on Friday night and Saturday.  NOT a good weekend to be sick. 

I.Am.So.Sleepy

I’m so sleepy.  I’m hoping to finish this blog and be in bed fast asleep by 10 p.m.   The little angels kept me up most of the night last night.

11:30 p.m. – Gigi comes upstairs asking for a drink.

12:40 a.m.  – Baby A wakes up to eat (she usually sleeps all night but she ate early and then spit it all up, so I guess she was hungry)

2:30 a.m. – Gigi comes upstairs asking for a band-aid.  She found a teeny-tiny scratch on her big toe and couldn’t rest until it had a band-aid on it.

3:30 a.m. – Gigi comes upstairs in a panic, saying “Yuri is bleeding all over the place!!”  I find her in the kitchen being doctored by Karlie.  For the second time in a month, I’ve been faced with profuse bleeding from the mouth area in the middle of the night.  This time, however, it was because Yuri fell out of the bed apparently FACE FIRST and hit the floor.  Both lips were busted and bleeding, and there was blood in the floor, on the comforter, pillow, pajamas.  Ugh.  HOW does one manage to fall out of bed on one’s FACE??

4:30 a.m. – Baby A decides to eat yet again.  What the heck… I hope she’s not picking up Gigi’s bad habits.

After a long day of pre-school, DHR visits, doctor’s appointments, grocery store, post office, buying tee-ball attire, and Haley’s softball game, I am finally home.  And hopefully (crossing my fingers and holding my breath), all the little ones are asleep.  I got a little nervous at 8 p.m. when Yuri and Gigi were marching around the kitchen with megaphones chanting “Kids united…we’ll never be divided”, but they settled down.  Whew.  Good night, y’all.    

Pack light? Impossible...

I blame Karlie.  She’s the one who said “We’re out of school next Friday and Monday… let’s go to the beach!”  It seemed like a good idea.  We don’t have ball tournaments, so I called Marla and asked her if she wanted to go and take all the kids for a quick trip to the Gulf. 

I told my big girls to pack light.  We’re just gonna chill on the beach and let the little ones play in the indoor pool.  No need to over pack.  It’s only 3 days.

It’s now 10:51 p.m.  I’m leaving in 6 hours and I’m STILL not finished getting everything together.

So far I have 5 bags of clothes, a bag of pool toys, 3 beach towels, 4 bath towels, 2 sets of sheets, 2 Barbie laptops, 2 portable DVD players, a bag of snacks, a bag of coloring books and crayons, a camera bag, 3 pillows, 3 blankets, a pack of diapers, a container of formula, 4 bottles, 2 six-packs of Diet Sundrop, 6 bottles of Gatorade, a Pack-n-Play, a Johnny Jumper, and a Bumbo.  Oh, and 3 car seats. 

Is it worth it?  Well, that depends.  Ask me Monday.  J