a family affair

No more excuses, Princess needs to get back in shape.

When I got home from work and got Bilbo settled, I decided to keep my promise I made to myself this morning and do my  Jillian 20 Minute Workout on DVD (Pretty, my sis-in-law who had a baby 7 weeks before me, recommended it.  Uh, Pretty & Princess are neither in the same age group nor fitness level…just sayin’).  I got my weights and my cushy mat and I was ready to roll. Man child was holding Bilbo.  Endless Pit was sitting in the chair watching my technique and Handsome was at the laptop trying not to distract, but encouraging nonetheless.  So as I push the play button, I started going through different jumping jacks, lunges, weights, jump ropes, sit-ups and push-ups.  In a nutshell…it was kicking my “baby mama” ass.

Man-child kept looking back at me, smiling and making it a point to tell me to “keep going” when I started to slow down. Bilbo just stared, wide-eyed and entranced with the “way cool” neon green hand weights. Endless Pit was concerned. “Do you think you will ever get past level one? Just think how hard level THREE is! You’re doing good mom, this looks really hard.”  Then I usually got an approving smile from Handsome, who kept his nose in the laptop…trying not to either a) say the wrong thing or b) stare at my compromising positions.

It was truly a family affair.

By the time I finished the DVD, I was a sweaty mess and decided to go outside and go on a walk to keep the burn working in my favor. I texted Pretty. “I’m going to vomit….from hence forth, no more sugar, more protein, more veggies and more water. Thank you for the wake- up call, this was AWESOME!!!”  She responded, basically saying she was still on level one (thank God, even though I do not believe her) and reminded me she was just like me when she started out.

She’s pretty awesome. 

So I guess this is my new dimension of “family” time, as all my men are encouraging mama to feel the burn and go the distance while Pretty is using her encouragement and humor to keep it fun and productive. Man child just bounded down the stairs and asked if I was going to do it again tomorrow. I kind of got a little embarrassed and blushed.  

”Yeah, I am planning on it.” I giggled, a little uncomfortable at the thought of going back for a 20 minute visit to Torcher Town.

 He walked up to me and gave me a hug, kissed me on top of my head and walked away.

Motivation is a very sweet and beautiful thing.

the deviant?

In this day of FB, texting, chatting, tweeting, instant messaging, inbox-ing and so on, it seems we are losing touch with conveying our emotions.  One must be VERY cognizant to “type” things the right way or it results in the whole thought behind the message becoming COMPLETELY misconstrued. 

Point 1.

We use ALL CAPS WHEN WE ARE HAPPY OR ANGRY!!!!!! LOL

 (multiple exclamations if we are really wanting to get loud about it and  the ever popular “lol” on the tail-end of it if it is a happy exclamation). 

Point 2.

we use all lower if we are not happy campers, perturbed or playing passive/ aggressive…with obvious periods. oh yes. just because of our lower- case typing delivery.  

Point 3.

Then, of course the emoticon… the “happy face”, the “frownie face”, the “heart” (aren’t those cute?).

I know what you are thinking. “Honestly, how about a phone call or a face- to- face conversation?”

Right? RIGHT??!!

All my friends and family know that I MUST be connected at all times and accessible to all at all times.  I start getting nervous when I do not have my phone with me….and checking it every 5 minutes to make sure I’m not missing out on the fact that “Jane Doe got her tattoo” or “John Doe kicks A$$” or it’s my turn to get a double triple word play on WWF (no it has not happened yet, but it SO WILL!).

I am just as guilty as ANYONE keeping my nose in my phone.

Oh, and the rules-

No texting/ phone calls at the kitchen table (implemented after my brother –in-law RAILED on me for picking up my phone to check a text while he was sharing a story with the whole family. whoops.)

No texting/ phone calls during church…unless you are texting the choir director’s son telling him how AWESOME he did on his singing once he gets back up in the choir loft…and he answers “It was ok”.

No texting/ phone calls during homework.  Period.  Unless you are answering me when I text “are you doing okay?” and you answer “yeah, why” and I answer “just checking”.

No texting/ phone calls during school- unless you accidentally “butt dial” your daddy during class and your daddy, in turn, “butt-dials” you back while you are giving a dramatic presentation in speech class.

…and one wonders why we are feeling a little too high strung? A little overwhelmed and caffeinated?

A little TOO CONNECTED??

Don’t get me wrong.  I understand that people can truly become ridiculously addicted to their phones.-like me.   I know there is a time and a place.  I know that rudeness rears its ugly head at the most untimely ring or alert. We all have received the "fiercely disapproving stare” if we “must take this call”.  Even worse, we slip up, we delete, we drop, we (dear lord) typo and “autocorrect” into the worst turn of translation EVER!

But really, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it just another opinion gone awry in the personality, grace and etiquette of the cell phone?   Let’s embrace the cell phone, let’s not fight it and turn it into the deviant.  It has done us a favor in morphing from the “bag phone” to the “brick phone” to the “hand held’, to the “flip phone” to the “smart phone”…all to make our multi-tasking society just a little easier.  The internet, e-mail, voice mail, outlook, notes, apps, files… they all came together to be warmly grasped in the sweaty little hand of productivity. Awesome.

Just be smart, safe, and keep it in perspective.

Just like the phone itself, we must turn it off to recharge and gain the juice of perspective.

Think about it. J

Dinner!

Okay boys!  Time to eat!

 “What are we having?” (even though it is ready to serve right in front of their eyeballs)

Answer- “Spaghetti with meat sauce”

Reaction-“YES!  I AM SO HUNGRY!  GIVE ME A PLATEFULL!!! AW, MOM!  THIS IS GREAT!!!”

or

Answer- “Grilled chicken salad with goat cheese, almonds, pears, green onions and grape tomatoes”

Reaction-“oh.” (heads down, heaving sigh)

There were six of us in the Patterson household.  Every evening Dad always came home with dinner ready.  The only time we ordered out or went out was some special Saturday night and it was Ken’s Pizza.  I did not like the usual supreme that was ordered, so- like clockwork, I took my pieces, carried my plate to the “Big Red Table” and proceeded to scrape EVERYTHING off of my pizza because it was covered with onions, and peppers, and olives.

 WHO EATS THAT??? BARF!

I was perfectly content with pizza the way I loved it….crust with the only sauce left from scraping off the toppings and a HUGE glass of Pepsi.  Voila! It was the perfect royal meal for only the most demanding of 7 –year- old- Princesses- in -training.  Mom never said a word; however my brothers and sister were sure to give me the what for. 

 “How can you EAT like that?  It’s just crust…with sauce??  You are scraping the good stuff off??  You even scrapped the cheese off? (Duh- the grody stuff is TRAPPED in the cheese!!) Here… I’ll take it.  You REALIZE that is the part we PAY for don’t you??”

Once everyone had their pieces and the onslaught of wasteful pizza banter died out, it was all of us…together at the big red table.  We were all quiet and smiley with our fizzy glasses of Pepsi and our Ken’s pizza… and my crust. Such a great moment.  Such a warm fuzzy memory!

Or….

It was a cold wintery night at the Patterson household.  My Dad and brothers were out hunting and on their way back. Mom was busy in the kitchen.  She asked me to come in and make the cornbread.  I loved to make the Jiffy cornbread! YAY!

As I walked into the kitchen…I knew my joy met its arch rival.  SPLIT….PEA….SOUP.

(gag, wretch, gag)

“Erin Kristin, you get in here and start on the cornbread, please.”

I slowly take the eggs and milk out of the refrigerator and quickly size up what ELSE I can have for dinner.  All I have time to scope out was strawberry jelly.  Whew! Plan B has been set.

 I got everything ready for the cornbread.  Mom put it in the oven.  I just stared at the big soup pot gurgling and boiling like it was truly the witches brew WAITING to put the princess into a year –long slumber. The sloppy green stew HAD to be made with frogs.  It just had to.

So my brothers and dad came home ready to eat. As my sister helped serve everything up, they all washed their hands and sat at the “Big Red Table” exclaiming how hungry they were and couldn’t wait to eat.  I, on the other hand, was sulking on the couch in the living room begging “Hee Haw” to come up with one heck of a skit to pull everyone from the kitchen table and completely bypass the soup.

“Erin Kristin, you get in here and join us for dinner, please.”

I sat down…stared at my bowl.  Looked around at everyone actually EATING IT and then stared at my bowl, again.  I got crafty.  Grabbed my cornbread and noshed on that delightful little square of “yum” for as long as I possibly could. Then came my brilliantly genius announcement.

“i’m full.”

“You didn’t eat your soup”

“yes I did.”

“Erin Kristin, you will sit here at this table until that bowl is empty, thank you.”

Challenge accepted.

I sat there and just stared at it.  One by one everyone left the “Big Red Table” grabbing their dishes and shaking their heads.  Big Boy stopped and said, “Just shovel it in there!  It’s good!” I didn’t even look at him.  I just continued to stare. The sun was going down.  My sister flipped on the light above the table. I continued to stare…not touching it.

All alone in a dark kitchen with "the light of the spanish inquisition", I remember my bottom falling asleep, so I started rocking from side to side.  My feet were getting cold.  I was getting very tired.  Then, the worst….. I had to go to the bathroom.  Rocking faster and continuing to stare at the soup, I began to tear up ONLY because I lost the battle.

“Mom?”

 In walks Mom. She took the soup and put it in the sink.  She came back to the table with the princess- in- training quickly rocking back and forth. We just stared at each other without a word, my tears welling.

“Go on.”

Once I took care of business, I walked the “walk of shame” back to the living room where she and dad sat.  The guilt was AWFUL. She won and she didn’t even know it (or did she?).

“i’m sorry”

She continued to read the paper.  “That’s okay, darlin.’ Go get ready for bed, please”.

The memory is ironically as vivid as pizza night.  Not the warm fuzzy memory, quite the cold prickly, but still every detail immaculately told.  And yes, my retelling this perfectly chronicled tale proves that indeed…SHE WON.

second chances

Regret

I would say it is used to redirect the energy of our “paths of misfortunes”.  It helps us become more modest and approach things in a more positive light.  It makes us want another chance….to want to go back in time and erase, fix or change.  Maybe it is a way of force feeding much needed direction to one’s self and others.  With this in mind and given the many regrets I have had in my life- I have had a few-  I try to teach my kiddos a few things to help shine their armor a bit to protect the boo boos of life lesson’s hard knocks.

 In so many words…

…Embrace who you are.  Ignore the judgments.  Find peace with the person you have become.  Believe in something…start with what is inside.  Form your opinions with tact and grace, and allow yourself to change your mind.   I could go on.

I realized this weekend that those blurbs of ‘mom-isms’ are starting to stick in a very good and healthy way.  I realize that Man Child and Endless Pit are listening and starting to piece together what has been preached to them many times, and applying them accordingly.  Before I started to pat myself on the back, I realized that it was only because they are starting to struggle with a few issues that come as little boys get older.

(enter nerves)

This is life.  This is what I have been amp-ing up for to help them choose wisely as things get a little harder.  I am confident they will grow to be fine young men- even have a few regrets- but I know that somehow, at some given moment they actually heard me…

…and I have no regrets about that. J

child's play

“Big Boy?”

“Heeeeeey! Whatchoo doin’, Dork Face.’”

“Nuttin’.  Callin’ YOU, Dork-a-rama.”

Mutual laughter.

That is (no lie) the guaranteed banter my twin brother and I share when we call each other to check in every week, or more than likely two.  The initial name calling lasts about a minute.  It’s kind of like a competition of who can hold our breath the longest.  We keep trying to outdo each other’s name calling by creative standards until someone FINALLY just gives in, laughs and says “How are you?” 

Some might find it odd, but child’s play works for the two of us.  It guarantees a smile at the beginning of the conversation.

I would say we are still pretty dependent on one another, even though...geographically speaking… his song is “Rocky Top Tennessee” and mine is “OOOOOOK-lahoma”. Ever since we were little, we have always known of each other’s whereabouts  and well-being, whether we agreed with it or not, and trust me, we have had our disagreements.

A huge turning point for us was when I knew he was leaving for University of Tennessee on a football/ track scholarship and I was going to compete in pageants so I could go to University of Oklahoma.  Obviously our “team” was disbanding, and I did not know how to handle that.  That thought was completely “alien” to me.  I mean, everyone spoke about “big brother” watching… but I literally had a big brother watching over me…all the time.  I was shy and was completely fine hiding behind his presence and accomplishments.  But all of a sudden, I was not “Big Boy’s” twin sister Erin anymore, it was just… Erin.  She was on her own to find her own voice and notoriety, and had NO CLUE where to start.  I believe he was lost in the sense of he didn’t have anyone to “watch over”, this time he was the one being watched.

I believe the phone bill was upwards of $600.00 that month.  We realized how much we missed each other and what adjustments needed to be made, but we also realized that although we were miles apart, we were still a part of each other.  Our freshman year was the first time we realized we would be just fine this far apart.  It was then we decided to keep things humorous and it was the first time my twin brother closed the conversation with…

“You can’t let that stuff get to you.  Just let it go. Okay?  Okay?”

“I’M NOT….I’m fine, really.”

“Okay. Well, I love you, Dorky-pine.”

“I love you, Dork-a-saurus.”

..and the guaranteed banter continues today in some similar, creative way.  No lie. J

bittersweet lil' snack

“I don’t like it when people plant seeds of doubt and camouflage it as concern.   It completely thwarts my mojo and throws me a little off balance.  Then I get frustrated, pout and find a way to kick their ass for attempting to steal my thunder.

Then, I want to have my ass kicked for allowing that game to commence.   Shame on me.”

I found this little "treasure" while going through some old rants I had trapped in my mind and thankfully decided to journal waaaaaaay before the word ‘blog’ even entered my vocabulary.  

Fun stuff, huh? (Ahem). 

I believe we all have a right to go through our moods and channel them accordingly.  The fruits of human nature are pretty delicious. However, if you don’t keep yourself fed with the good stuff, life becomes bitter, eventually toxic and crushes ones spirit….completely.

I highly recommend finding a way of accompanying the “foul demons” out and I recommend doing it BEFORE the head spins and green substances spew. 

(Still in Oz, grabbing the dog and merrily skipping down the yellow brick road boldly singing “Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is Dead”)

my smiles

A while back, I decided I wanted to get involved in the choir in my church.  I missed singing and needed an outlet.  I LOVED the variety the Minister of Music brought to each service, and wanted to be a part of it. Even though I always enjoyed singing, I never really felt comfortable doing it on my own for fear of being judged and dropping through the trap door in the pulpit (silly, I know).  I remember the first time I was asked to do a solo in front of the church congregation at Easter. You know, the one where everyone comes out of the woodwork to attend the service, so they brought in "extra chairs" for those souls that wanted to be saved that morning.  I knew my style-not necessarily fitting for a Methodist church, only in the privacy of my shower, kitchen or living room- bluesy, sultry, vocal improvisation...everything but slinking on the grand piano, so to speak. However, I found one. One with  a message that even the “extra chairs” could understand and appreciate.


"Were You There " arranged by Crystal Lewis.


It was just a piano on the track. I didn't know anyone at that time to play for me so, my point? It was me and a whole lotta eyeballs looking AT me. I remember the nerves, the shakes, the breathing... I was a mess.  In my bold attempt to agree to do this, I failed to confess to myself, the music director and his wife that I suffer from SEVERE stage fright, even while competing on the big stage at the Mabee Center way back when.  It was too late now. My name was in the program.  I was front and center and the music was cued. No turning back.


“Damn”....oh yes I did, but to myself. (God understood).


Man -Child and Endless Pit were strategically placed sitting next to their daddy.  I loved to sing to them and with them at home and knew they would want to be a part of hearing mommy sing for the first time at church.  I remember closing my eyes during the intro, praying I would a) start on key, b) remember the words and c) ask God to forgive me... because I was going to fail this attempt in telling this story that I so badly wanted people to open their hearts and apply accordingly.  Raising the microphone to position- and yes, my eyes still closed- it was time to "throw it out there". The first phrase, I heard myself resound over the sanctuary. Continuing on, I realized I had to do the unthinkable.  I had to open my eyes.  This was not for me, this was for the congregation and the performer in me knew I had to acknowledge them. Slowly I opened my eyes, looked toward the back and there was Man- Child, leaning out toward the aisle so I could see his big brown eyes. He was smiling, hanging on every word and note I delivered. Then I saw Endless Pit’s baby blues right beside him, equally as entertained.  Deliver I did… completely outta the ball park.


My boys are my smiles, my reason to sing, and my comfort and confidence in knowing that yes, through Christ, I can do all things. :)

my scepter

My earliest memory of a vacation was the summer of 1975.  I remember being with my brothers, sister, mom, aunt and “Munner” (my grandmother).  We all piled in the big blue station wagon and put all fellow travelers to shame as we visited EVERY tourist trap imaginable in the Ozarks.  Shepherd of the Hills (the fire)… the Fantastic Caverns (the trolley bus)… Silver Dollar City (lollipops)… well, this is all a 5- year- old can lock in her overactive brain for safe keeping 35 years later.

Of course, my favorite was Silver Dollar City.  I took it all in.  Grandpa's mansion- the huge lollipops, the tree bridge- and the huge colorful lollipops everyone had, the log ride- and the big huge colorful lollipops everyone had but me….SIGH- A vivid memory indeed!

By golly, I wanted one of those lollipops. The big round one, with blue and orange and pink and yellow on a long wooden stick just like the one everyone in the park seemed to be showcasing and devouring.  Next thing I knew we were all  in one of the stores with all kinds of treasures… t-shirts, stuffed animals, wooden games, glass animals, taffy , chips, different items you would find at a grocery store and (squeal!) BIG HUGE LOLLIPOPS!! It was then I knew…

Heaven exists in the Ozark Mountains. 

Yes, I was in heaven and heavenly angels were shining their light on a tree of lollipops as I was blinded by one that was perfectly colorful, just low enough for me to reach (the angels planned it that way, of course- just….for….me).  I grasped the celestial gift in my hand and took it upon myself to go ahead and unwrap the technicolor confection, sit on the closest “throne” I mean bench, and voila! It was just me and that lollipop. No one even came close to touching this dream, ‘cause I was officially royalty.  This was my scepter.  My tiara was in the back pocket of my dirty holey jeans and my smile implied...

“Yeah- y’all go ahead and settle for the Chiclets, this is my destiny.”

Munner knew her “rough and tumble” was in a good place, and paid accordingly.  I remember.

Like I said….there is only so much a 5- year- old can lock in her brain for safe keeping 35 years later. ; )

brilliant

I learned a little gem of a lesson the other day.

I went too far with my sassy, sarcastic banter while chatting with a friend.

In a text, I said…

“I’m sorry. No more sass, promise”.  

In no time wasted, my dear brilliant friend said… 

“Don’t apologize, embrace your sass, I do.”

Creatively speaking, I was ‘that close’ to changing perfect lip gloss to petroleum jelly in one quick gloppy swipe just to make it “go away” and was completely ready to lose that feisty quality to maintain composure.

Shiny lips.  No sass.

Friends don’t let friends lose themselves for the sake of saying “I’m sorry”.

Flying by the Seat of Our Pants- Duke's Southern Kitchen review (because I can)

I have a friend in the FB world who is a complete smartass. 

He is deliciously witty and hilarious…an amazing daddy and a very proud family man.  He passed the word along that his wife was the new sheriff to a new restaurant in town serving “Gulf Coast and Southern cuisine with a more upscale approach”.   The owner currently owns Sonoma and the Brasserie on Brookside.  I could not wait to try.

Being the Princess that I am, I have been dropping subtle hints to Handsome that we need to try Duke’s Southern Kitchen.

“We need to go try this new place”

“I really want to go to Duke’s”

“Okay, really? This weekend. ”

YAY!  This weekend it was!!!!

I have seen pictures of the restaurant, knew what type of food, familiar with menu….in no way those pre-conceived ideas even come CLOSE to what we experienced for a 5 top on a Saturday, 6:45 in the evening ‘walk- in’ with no reservations. The experience BLEW ‘EM OUT OF THE WATER!

Heather Kingham, General Manager of Duke’s, asked for my name.

 “Minnix, 4 & ½”.

“Did you have reservations?”

“No, darn it, I’m one that likes to fly by the seat of my pants. I’m sorry.”

“No problem” (whispering numbers and other parties to the hostess).

 “Okay, your table is ready.”

I was fascinated with the décor of the dining area.  It was warm and inviting, yet simplistic. Not cramped, workable for large parties (did not see what was upstairs, but only guessing they accommodated large parties there).   The bar area looked trendy and fun…not too uptight and rushed.  It was the perfect venue to simply walk up to the bar, have a drink and be completely comfortable and FABULOUS!

Once we got our seats, we were approached in a very timely manner by a little firecracker of a server, Stacie- who had AMAZING tattoos on her arms.  SO wanted to ask all about them, but figured Handsome would not go for the banter and it would push Man Child and Endless Pit’s fascination even further. That will wait for my next visit at the bar…

 …but I digress.

Stacie was ready to take our drink order. I knew EXACTLY what I wanted… “Carolina Cocktail, please”. Handsome ordered the ‘Velvet Elvis’ (I think both of us were ready to take a “mental vacay”-numb gums and all).

Delicious x2 for me, Responsible x1 for Handsome.

Time to order.  I will say, the kids menu had nothing to be desired for our 9 year -old (dammit) so, he chose the Hoecake Sliders with Pulled Pork and Spicy Peach Glaze from the appetizer selection, Man Child was quick to choose the Chicken Fried steak with Collard Greens and Potatoes, Handsome chose the Catfish with Green Tomato Relish and Sweet Corn Stuffing and I chose the Hickory Smoked Chicken with Apple Au Jus and Cheese Grits.

O…..M…..SHIZZLE, LET THE PLATE SHARING BEGIN!  All of us were celebrating our first bites with an eye roll of ecstasy , nods and smiles. The only complaint came from Endless Pit, who stated he could not finish his “because it was just so rich with the bites of Chicken, Chicken Fried Steak and Catfish”.

Once our plates were cleaned (doing everything but licking them ), Stacie approached us about dessert. The boys chose the blackberry cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream. The serving was nothing obnoxiously big, but a size that catered to sharing among Handsome, Endless Pit and Man Child VERY WELL.  They did the right thing in saying “It is good, but not as good as yours”.

Time for the check…

I will say it was a little pricier than what we wanted to pay for a “fly by the seat of our pants” family meal out, but Handsome and I agreed it is Spring Break!! We chalked this up to a fun night out with the family with fab food and fun cocktails!  Would we come back??? ABSOLUTELY!

…all in the name of my FB mentor of sarcasm, KingDaddy!