A Very Lucky Girl

"... she rejoiced as only mothers can in the good fortunes of their children ." -Louisa May Alcott I should probably begin this tribute to these certain 21 influential people in my life with a post dedicated to the woman who experienced labor in order for the world to experience me. If you're about those Thank-You notes I can provide an address for her upon request. Shari Nelson Arceneaux and I have a running joke about what a "good mother" would do (which is typically the opposite of what actually happens). It came from a novel that we both read that I can't remember the name of now. But my good mother instilled a love of reading in me from a very young age. I can remember being put to bed with visions of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Anne of Green Gables swirling through my imagination. She taught me how to make the essentials in the kitchen: spaghetti, spicy pretzels, and ultimate chocolate chip cookies.  She's one of my biggest cheerleaders and the b...

Late Saturday night or early Sunday morning, depending on your individual bed time, I came home to an envelope on my desk. Sharbear had sent me a letter. I opened it to find an adorable card that I really couldn't see very well through my tears, but that I later verified the cuteness factor of.  I'm still not sure if the water in my eyes should have been blamed on a few cocktails or the fact that I'm a big baby. Life is hard sometimes-- crazy, mixed-up, messed up. And there you are, in the middle of it all, just doing your thing... being strong and brave and beautiful like it's no big deal. But let me tell you, girl, it is. Not everyone can do what you can do. Not everyone can handle things the way you can. While you wonder sometimes if you're doing ok... the rest of us are just watching in wonder. Welp, the mystery of cocktail or baby has been solved. Due to the current blurryness of my vision, I am a giant infa...

I spent Labor Day weekend relaxing at home in Oklahoma City. I didn't feel well prior to Shari's arriving to scoop me up from school. But after an uber nutritious meal from Slim Chicken's and conversation with mom, my throat was mysteriously un-sore. I clearly needed more time to convalesce so I lounged around with Beignet for the rest of the weekend.  Tyler drove up on Sunday to attend church with me (I love when he does that) and then hung out with me and my family for the rest of the day (I like when he does that, too). As we were preparing to leave on Sunday night I asked Shari to French braid my hair because my fingers are too clumsy for something so intricate. She obliged, even finishing up with a back massage! (my mom is better than yours), and I started giggling helplessly when she told me to correct my posture. Except she used a different phrase. I'm not allowed to repeat it or else I would share it with you. As I reached for my phone to share Sharbear'...

You think I was gonna take that bullet and plaster her age across the Internets for all to see? You've got jokes! Shari Nelson Arceneaux, my beautiful mother, is XX today. And yes, I do mean 20 in roman numerals. Born August 7 to William and Sharon Nelson, Shari flourished as she grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana, attending high school with her future husband, Paul Arceneaux (one of these days I'll blog about that volatile high school relationship. You'll read in rapt attention). She graduated and moved to the land of the horned frogs, Fort Worth, Texas, to study nursing at Texas Christian University and join the Delta Delta Delta sorority chapter. Unlike myself, she spent all four years of college in Texas heat and went on to have a successful career in nursing in several states nationwide. She's faithfully followed my father in every move our family had to make, keeping her complaints to herself or behind closed doors. She's reared two decent kids (we're works...

These kids are so out of my league. I had enough material for an entire post just after Monday of this week. But I saved everything up for a mega post. And I plan to make it a weekly thing. This was the week of the soccer mom. I literally took Brother to soccer practice every morning and watched him from the bleachers with Sister. It is unreal how much more cautious you become with other children in the car. I asked my mom if she still feels like that when me and Oakes are in the car. She said no. I guess Oakes and I's value decreased as we got older... I kept both hands at ten and two. The radio at an acceptable decibel. And constantly checked all the mirrors. Monday. The kids greeted me with a "we missed you over the weekend!" when I arrived on Monday morning. It was adorable. But their constant chatter was not. I brought Advil for the rest of the week. We had our first casualty. It was my own. It's all fun and games until an 8 year old crash lands on your foo...

I felt like a mom on my first full day of summer a few weeks ago. It further urged my obstinacy against ever having kids. I was drop dead exhausted by the end of the day. 6:15 -Wake up. Scream obscenities at my alarm in my head. Go to the gym and work off the anger at the alarm. 7:15 -Take the fastest shower known to man. Skip shaving, what's one more day with fuzzy legs? 7:35 -Drop Shari off at work. 7:35-8:15 -Drive to Chick Fil A. Pick up a chicken biscuit for Megan to surprise her at work. Get lost. Depend on Google Maps. Get lost again. 8:20 -Drop off said chicken biscuit. 8:40 -Scour all of Walmart for everything on the list. Exchange Pringles for carrots (so devastating). Self-checkout (avoid human contact at all costs). 9:15 -Unload groceries. Talk to the dog because no one else is home. She wanders out of the room when I'm mid-sentence. I don't notice. 9:20 -Desperately try to remember how to make an omelet. Crack an egg. Shiver at the slimyness (so...