Dear Miss C:

Yesterday was your kindergarten awards ceremony on the stage in the school cafeteria and your walking field trip, capped off with lunch at McDonald’s, or as sissy says, “Old MacDonald’s.” You may as well know now that I ate at McDonald’s every week while I was pregnant with you, hence your genetic makeup is intrinsically tied to Ronald McDonald. I could lie and say I ate nothing but free range chicken and organic fruits and vegetables, but I really wanted you to appreciate a good batch of piping hot french fries straight from the fryer, and freshly salted, before you even left the womb.

This week is shaping up to be the equivalent of the best week ever on the 5-year-old level. You played with your cousins Sunday, had a friend over Monday after school to play, and then we went to a soccer party at the local playground Tuesday where you had pizza and cupcakes for dinner. We were talking about the party yesterday and I told you that friends and family are so important in life and that if you have those two things, plus a great place to go like Papa’s Beach, that you have all that you really need.

You looked up at me from the kitchen table and without a beat said, “And God!”

I realize every day what a blessing it is to be your mother and sissy’s mother. I may feel like I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but you prove to me over and over that your daddy and I must be doing something right.

Love, Mommy

Heading for school in the rain.

On Saturday we had the usual gathering of selves and stuff for soccer. Because we had a freak snow in March and then flooding in April (cue REM’s End of the World as We Know It), the spring soccer season is like the Energizer Bunny. It keeps going, and going, and going.

I asked Miss A twice if she had to use the potty before we left the house, and she piped back, “No! I no have to potty mommy!”

This is 3-year-old speak for “I do have to go potty, but I’m far too busy to be bothered with that whole emptying of the bladder thing, so please get out of my way you silly woman.”

So tra la la we headed to the field and got caught in the maelstrom of traffic as SUVs and minivans circled the lot like vultures on wheels. Miss A then announced from the back seat, “I have to go POTTY!!! I have to go POTTY mommy daddy!”

There are no public restrooms at the soccer fields, except for a row of porta potties. There they sit, baking in the direct sun, all weekend. I have somehow managed to avoid them except for one incident with Miss C. Basically I walk by them and think, “I don’t see you nasty porta-potties! La la la la la la la.”

We scurried from the car and Miss A and I trotted over to the porta potties.

“OK, here we go!” I said in my fake happy mommy voice as if she were about to hop on a pony.

I opened the door and Miss Princess reticently stepped into the porta potty. I left the door slightly ajar as it was going to be difficult to help her up on to the potty without actually touching it and I needed all the elbow room I could muster. I’d love to see David Blaine levitate a 30 plus pound little girl over a porta potty. Now that would be a good trick.

Miss A took one look into the poo and blue chemical cocktail of the porta potty and let out a blood curdling, “IT’S YUCKY MOMMY!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” and starting dancing the “I must pee” jig.

“Baby, it’s OK. Mommy will hold you over the potty. Just don’t look down, OK.”

“No mommy! It’s blue! It’s YUCKYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

She was mortified and I can’t blame her, seeing as she barely towered above the potty seat.

“Miss A, it’s OK. Mommy will pick you up so you don’t have to touch a thing.”

No wonder my back was strained Mother’s Day.

We got out of there as fast as we could and all the while I was thinking I’d just as soon have her pee behind a bush, only knowing my luck she’d sit in poison ivy.

But I can guarantee she’ll remember to use the potty next weekend before we head to the last soccer game.

Mother’s Day weekend began with Miss C insisting I open her present after school on Friday. I told her I should probably wait until Sunday but she was adamant. She had made a lovely plate at school with a colorful drawing of a beautiful sun. I’d show you a picture of it, but then I’d have to hunt you down and kill you as it has her real name and school name on it. But trust me, it is something I’ll treasure forever. Yesterday she announced that I was to wear the beautiful paper corsage she’d made at school and I wore it with pride. Miss A made me a lovely card at daycare and managed to have two F5 bathroom incidents yesterday that no one else but your own mother would touch with a 10-foot pole, so I didn’t get the day totally off.

I wrenched my lower back a few days ago carrying the vacuum up the four steps from our downstairs bonus room to the kitchen while simultaneously stepping over Jack our dog, because that’s just what you do when you multi-task and are too busy to stop and think about the way your are contorting your muscles in a most unnatural fashion. I felt something twinge but then I felt OK. By Saturday evening, however, I started having considerable pain every time I sat down or stood up, which wouldn’t be any big deal if I didn’t actually have to ever SIT DOWN or STAND UP. So after Mother’s Day lunch at my mom’s house, I headed home while the hubby took the girls up to his brother’s house for dinner.

I had the house to myself for hours. After indulging in the televised inspidness that is E!, I honestly started to feel a tad guilty and brain cells started to die off so I switched to HGTV and painted my nails. If I had been feeling mobile, I would have headed out for some shopping, but I just popped some Aleve and enjoyed the rare peace and solitude.

I promised my mother lunch or dinner out this week, just the two of us, at her restaurant of choice. It’s the very least I can do, as she’s been taking care of me for nearly 39 years.

Hope all of you mamas out there had a fabulous Mother’s Day!

Me and my mama

(Fall or winter 1969 or 1970 and from the looks of those sweet potatoes and green beans and the glass of wine and the altitude of my mama’s hair, I’m thinking it’s around the holidays.)

You might as well buy yourself a little somethin’ to celebrate Mother’s Day. I try to be selective about products I review (and hope to move the majority of these type posts to my forthcoming blog, Savvy Housewife) and I love to feature businesses run by women.

Junk in Our Trunks sent me two gorgeous necklaces to review. These fabulous jewelry designers are in Texas and their jewelry definitely makes a statement.

Check out this cute domino Giggle necklace. A pink Swarovski crystal dangles from the bottom and the domino pendant hangs from a 16″ black organza ribbon. Junk in Our Trunks has an entire line of unique domino necklaces, so if this one is not your style I can guarantee you will find one you will love.

I also have this beautiful Blessed/Pray necklace handcrafted from metal and glass. Depending on how I feel about the girls at the moment I can flip it back and forth. This afternoon at soccer was definitely a time for prayer as Miss A would not stop mischieviously darting back and forth on the playing field and eyeing the poison ivy at the edge of the river bank as if it were laced with Pop Tart dust.

So buy yourself a fabulous little piece of bling, or three, for Mother’s Day. Junk in Our Trunks is offering my readers 25% off through May 30 with the code BLONDEMOM (unlimited uses per customer.) These SLUTS cocktail napkins are very fun, too. Hey, stir up a little conversation at Bunco night!

Happy shopping!

Winner Update: Noelle at Winging it in the Windy City is the winner of the beautiful Tomo&Edie organic baby kimono. Congrats Noelle! Don’t forget to consider Tomo&Edie the next time you are shopping for a unique baby present. 10 percent of their sales are donated to Unicef.

In celebration of all things baby this week, I posted a giveaway at Blissfully Domestic for this beautiful kusakizome kimono from Tomo&Edie. Madder root has been used for centuries to achieve deep reds and oranges. The rich colors symbolize the rising sun and new beginnings and are a unique alternative to blue or pink.

Each kimono is lovingly hand dyed using a traditional Japanese technique on certified organic cotton–a work of art for that special baby in your life.

Tomo&Edie was founded by two friends, and mothers, who share a passion for other cultures, educating children, doing their share to preserve the environment, and promoting a peaceful existence. The business name was inspired by their young children. I happen to know one of these wonderful mamas (she teaches at the fabulous 12South Yoga studio here in Nashville) as she is a good friend of my big brother. The mamas also blog at Southern Sushi. Is that a great blog name or what?

Staying true to the principles upon which their business was founded, 10% of all Tomo&Edie profits are donated to Unicef. Tomo&Edie also features a unique line of beautiful hair accessories hand-crafted from vintage Japanese silk kimonos.

Check out the details of this great giveaway over at Blissfully Domestic. The contest closes Monday at midnight.

p.s. Does anyone know how to get a Tomo&Edie kimono to Angelina Jolie? Hey, it could happen.

Miss C is very disappointed to be missing a classmate’s birthday party Sunday at one of those bouncy emporium chains. However, the what the hell factor of a parent purposely planning an event on Mother’s Day is still bothering me, probably because Miss C came home earlier this week and mentioned she wasn’t invited and the friend told her it was because her mother said Miss C hadn’t invited her to her birthday party. Well, Miss C’s birthday is in June and she did not attend preschool with this little girl, so I could only think that the mother was coming up with lame excuses for paring down the invite list. Miss C apparently called the little girl on this and told her she didn’t even know her last summer. The next day Miss C brought home an invitation and it was obvious another child’s name was marked out in ink. Alrighty then.

I tend to obsess about things, though, so as my husband so wisely advises me, quite often: “Let it go.” Obviously I am, but only before first writing about it on the Internet.

No worries, as I have reminded Miss C that next week is a whirlwind of social activity that can only be described as Endoftheschoolyearpalooza, or Thank God I Only Have One Child in Real School/I Don’t Know How You Other Parents Do This. Then again, most of these are school activities, so I should probably recast that as I Don’t Know How You Teachers Do This Are You Nuts.

Miss C is having a friend ride home with her Monday after school. I refuse to use the word play date. For some reason that word is bothersome to me. So, this mama does not do play dates, she does “let’s invite a friend over.” Yes, boring I know. I also say slumber party, and not sleepover.

Tuesday Miss C has a Thank You Sweet Baby Jesus It’s the End of Soccer Season party at the local park. Wednesday morning she has a kindergarten awards ceremony, followed by a field trip. Thursday she has school wide field day. Friday she is spending the night with the hubby’s parents. Saturday she has her last soccer game.

On the other end of the spectrum, poor Miss A “only” has pajama day at daycare Monday. Yeah, it stinks being 3.

I was talking to a friend the other day who was quite wistful about another school year being over, but all I can think of is “Thank God school is almost out. We’re headed to the beach!”

Last night at bedtime Miss A was clutching a costume jewelry pearl necklace and of course refused to hand it over. Being a mother of weak fortitude and one that would probably let her kids sleep with a pet monkey if it meant they would sleep soundly all night, I shrugged it off and told her I’d be right back. I had a nagging feeling about her holding the necklace as I’d seen her put it in her mouth, but I went down the hall to check on Miss C.

“Right back” turned into about 5 minutes and of course my wild girl was awake and out of bed when I opened her bedroom door. She scampered across the room and scrambled on to her bed, an impish grin plastered on her face, and I saw she was still gripping the necklace, only I could tell it was broken and some of the fake pearls had spilled on her rug.

Day-um.

“Miss A, you didn’t eat one of those beads did you?”

“Um…yes.”

“How many did you eat?”

“Um, one, two, three, four!” She wiggles her fingers as she counts aloud, clearly amused with herself.

The inquisition begins.

“Are you kidding mommy? How many did you eat? One…two?” My voice reaches a new level of pitch with each question.

“Yes. One! Two! Three! Four!”

Miss A responds with pride as if she’s just eaten brussels sprouts.

I assume she was just feeding off of what I was asking, but I don’t doubt that she swallowed at least one pearl.

I gave her a stern talk about not putting things in her mouth because she could choke.

“I could CHOKE?”

“Yes baby. You could choke and DIE.”

Her eyes got big as saucers.

Hey, you don’t mess around when it comes to ingesting foreign objects. I’ve never had to perform the Heimlich and I don’t want to start with my own children.

Then I feel bad and soften it with, “Oh but you’re just fine. You’re just fine. It’s in your tummy and you’re going to poop it out. But it might hurt.”

Her eyes grow wide again.

OK, so I am a sadist. I don’t want this to happen again. I mean business!

“Oh, it will be fine. Just fine. Just don’t EVER do that again. We only eat food, OK?”

“OK…not gum?”

“No, just food.”

I spoke to the nurse at our pediatrician’s office and we’ve launched Operation Poop the Pearl. She laughed and assured me that kids eat weird things all the time.

But Southern ladies in training should wear their pearls, not eat them.