Looking for Jesus?

I have been hearing a lot about other kids' nativities. I thought I'd share my nativity story with you.

The Cuddler did not even bother getting baby Jesus and the rest of the crew out of our attic. The lone sole member of our nativity was "Children's Camel" that I picked out and my Nonnie purchased at the Monastery for our set.

Anyway, my Nonnie did put her nativity out. Well, she will only be putting some of it back in storage.

Right after she put it out, I was merely inspecting baby Jesus to get a better understanding of Christmas. And lo and behold, I cannot remember where I have left baby Jesus. Everyone has looked and searched for the reason for the season, but to no avail. I also decapitated a wise man. I mean, it was the one with the mur. What kind of gift is that for a baby?

My Nonnie thinks it was a message from God that we all need to seek Jesus. The Cuddler thinks Nonnie should put the nativity on a shelf. We have no comment on the wise man.

Let us know if find a lost baby Jesus.

Love, a mischvious little Plum

A Daddy's Girl

We all know she is a daddy's girl, but there is enough love in his heart for me to be a PawPaw's boy too.



That heinous sin against humanity called a hat a testament to his love. My cousin Kelsey Ann-he was her PawPaw first-bought it for him on a field trip years ago and he wears it without shame. The same cannot be said for the rest of the family.

Love, the Plum

Shame on me

Does anyone ever find themselves looking at other people's lives or blogs or whatever and being envious because their career is more prestigious, or their marriage seems hotter, or their children are better behaved, or they are skinnier, or their house is cooler. Oh come on, you know the type. Even their dogs have pedigrees. They are saving the world one orphan at a time and looking better than you doing it.

Meanwhile, I'm here with my loved asthmatic baby who has recently started throwing some impressive temper tantrums in my plain house with my two dogs that are far from registered. I'm only at work three-fourths of time (see above about the asthmatic). It's hard to get anywhere when you are doing good to get in 8 whole hours a day. I haven't even kissed anyone besides my husband since 1995. Yes, you read that right. Not much mystery there. My new "skinny" jeans are double digits. And I find myself wondering what I'm doing to make the world a better place.

But you know what? I happen to love my neighborhood where my little house is and my neighbors are fabulous. How many women reading this blog would sell their soul for a baby, biological, adopted or otherwise? Several that I know of. My dogs aren't that pretty and they don't know many tricks, but I love them dearly. My friends are really supportive and funny. I am thankful for my job, if for no other reason than great insurance for the asthmatic. I really like my husband. I enjoy his company and would rather be with him than anywhere else. And I have rockin boots to make up for the big skinny jeans.

Take a look at your life and think about all the ordinary things that make it really extraordinary.

This is Izzy being ashamed of me ever wishing away one moment of our ordinary life.



The Cuddler

Merry Christmas!

I got up Christmas morning and found a jeep that Santa brought me.




After I checked that out for a while, we rode to my Nonnie's and PawPaw's to visit my family and Aunt M's cracked out little dog, Macy.



Mammaw and I enjoyed a little snack before lunch. She's old and I'm a baby so we eat when we want. We don't wait for the blessing or for everyone to get there. We do what we want.



The Cuddler is always glad when my Uncle Chris spends Christmas with us and not at the fire department.



Here, we are goofing off Christmas night after we opened presents. Uncle Chris' chocolate covered cherries melted because of the fire and he gave his new safety harness to Morning Guy. Score for Morning Guy. Bust for Uncle Chris.



I ate sugar cookies until I was in stooper.



Me downing another sugar cookie while modeling my MSU jersey that John Martin and Linds got me! Go STATE!



John Martin, the Cuddler, Me and my Mammaw.



Me, the Cuddler and Em.



By the end of the day, we were all feeling a little cracked out.



What a wonderful day to be surrounded by love, joy, laughter, and family. We could not ask for more except some pictures of Morning Guy and PawPaw.

Love a happy and blessed and loved little Plum

The Airing of Grievances

In the spirit of Festivus, I'm airing my grievances. Shortly hereafter, Morning Guy and I will wrestle.

1. First, I'm really ticked about the weather. I DO NOT DO coats. Please see below.



2. We do not even have a Christmas tree inside.

3. I cannot get rid of my stinking cough and runny nose.

4. The Cuddler is resistant to my new wake up time, 4:00. I mean, if she went to bed at 7:00, she would be ready to get up too.

5. I am tired of being in my car seat. Just the sight of it makes me really angry.

6. Mississippi State's basketball team is an all out embarrassment.

7. Since I crawled in the oven, the Cuddler has been locking the door. What is her problem?

8. The Cuddler and Morning Guy always try to kill my fun when I'm playing with electricity. I have received several leg pops and hand slaps over this recently when I'm trying to stick things our outlets.

9. I missed breakfast at the Cracker Barrel with Morgan and Mrs. Ginny because I was put down for a nap at 7:45 this morning.

Love, the Plum

P.S. Happy Festivus

Picture it

Morning Guy promises me 5 minutes to change out of work clothes without the Plum hanging on me. I go to our bedroom. Clothes are not even off.

Hear crying.

CRYING. GETTING. LOUDER. AND. CLOSER.

Morning Guy and Plum round the corner. Blood running down Plum's chin from his mouth.

Me: lip or tongue?

Morning Guy: Don't know, he won't let me look.

(All crying ceases, as the hair dryer catches Plum's attention.)

Me: Oh well, it can't be that bad if he has stopped crying.

This the moment when I knew I was officially a "Boy Mom."

Love, The Cuddler

a perfect Sunday

The Cuddler and my Nonnie went with Mrs. Ginny and her sister, Kerri, and their mom to decorate gingerbread houses.

The Cuddler's house...



Non and the Cuddler....



Kerri and her Mom...



The Cuddler and Mrs. Ginny....



Then, we met up to look at lights in Canton. I had a great time dancing to the music and looking at all the pretty lights. The Cuddler and I tried to ride a carousel, but I thought it was be better if she just held me.



My Non and PawPaw went with us, but I was too busy to be still for a picture. It was the perfect start to the week of Christmas.

Love a merry little Plum

Stylin and Profiling

Now that my hair is thicker and the weather is cooler, we are drying my hair with the hair dryer. It is leaving me with a fabulous hairdo.





Love a good lookin Plum

The 12 days of Christmas-Plum Style

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

12 hours between pulmicort breathing treatments,

11 screaming babies in the waiting room,

10 days of omnicef,

9 testy mothers in the waiting room,

8 hours of coughing Sunday night,

7 foot decorated Christmas tree on our porch,

6 doses of Tylenol a day,

5 o'clock wake up for the Cuddler and Morning Guy,

4 albuterol breathing treatments a day,

3 tired and grouchy people at my house,

2 hour wait to see the doctor,

and a decadron shot.



I was serious about our Christmas tree on our porch. The doctor says I may be having an allergic reaction to our live tree. Yep, we are now "those" neighbors.

Love, a sickly little Plum who will never get to go to camp at this rate

He's no Cam Newton

but we love him anyway.

Love, the Cuddler

What the %$** is this about?

What have I ever done to these people? I'm consulting an attorney and my PawPaw. This travesty will not go unpunished.

Love, an angry little Plum

The Many Hats of the Plum

My Uncle Chris's old hat...



My hat from last year,



this year.



A hat fit for a five year old.



The Cuddler's favorite hat.



Love a toasty and accessorized little Plum

our night time routine

First, I get a bath.



Then, after I get my jammies on, Cuddler steals kisses.



She is trying too hard and I feel sorry for her, so I give a kiss.



We smile for the camera because we both agree that I am fabulous.



Love, a frosty little Plum

Who is in charge?

This is the Cuddler. I just want to clarify that I am in charge. At least between the Plum and I, I am in charge. Both of us cannot be in charge.

There seems to be some confusion on this particular issue. Mainly, the Plum seems confused. He seems to think that when I say, "No, don't touch" referring to our new fancy pants camera, that I am extending an invitation for him to throw himself in the floor and pitch an all out dammit fit. This is not such an invitation. I tried to reinforce the inappropriateness of this behavior tonight by putting him in his pack and play in our spare bedroom. I mean if he feels the need to throw a fit he can throw it in the other room.

In his defense, I'm pretty sure that he is cutting his bottom left molar. I am giving him all the sympathy that I can muster but I will not allow him to behave like he has no home training.

Never fear, I have bought a book. That is my answer to everything. A book. I also have a recommendation for another book from a mental health expert. I'm not sure if that book is for me or him, but I'll let you know when I get it in.

As proof of a pissy little Plum, I offer the following picture:




He has been pitching these fits since Wednesday so I can't remember what this one was about.

Love, a wiped out Cuddler

some of my favorite things...

(MSU) Santa on my shirt, the Bulldogs, and Oreos,



a Mississippi State win, and being BOWL bound!

I'm still under the weather so I don't look so good in my picture but the Oreos and victory really lifted my spirits.

GO DAWGS!!!

Love, a maroon and white Plum

Day Three of Thankfulness.

1. God
2. Family
3. Country

oh, and children's Motrin.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Day Two of Thankfulness

Today, like so many other days, I am thankful for my mother. She is all around pretty fabulous. She is patient and kind. I mean all her qualities are not positive. Like every time she comes over and keeps the Plum, somehow, apple juice ends up all over the floor. I believe it is a problem with sippy cups but she denies any and all knowledge of apple juice spillage so I am unable to rectify the situation.

In spite of the apple juice, I'm thankful for so many of the things that she does. After Plum was born, she stayed every Wednesday night to help. She is always just a phone call away. On that note, she actually calls every morning to check on the Plum. She keeps the Plum two or three days a week. Today, she took the him to the pediatrician because he is running a little fever. Unfortunately, the allergist wanted to run some test too so my mom had to hold Plum down while they took five vials of blood out of two arms. Bad visit.

Not be out done, my dad is pretty fabulous too. He makes the Plum a bottle and my mom coffee and brings it them in bed so they don't have to get up. Um, yes, the Plum has transitioned to sippy cups. My daddy is working on it.

We love them very much. If it takes a village to raise a baby, they are our village. And my daddy is also cooking our lunch for tomorrow.

The Cuddler

Day One of Thankfulness

I have decided to let the Cuddler borrow my blog for a little while to discuss what she is thankful for this season.

From the Cuddler: I am thankful for my girlfriends. No two are alike. Some came into my life during high school, some college, a couple in law school and others are more recent additions. I have some that are aggressive and some that passive, some that are sweet as pie and some that are, well, a little more like me. Each is supportive in their own unique ways. After my recent post about having it all, two of those special friends sent me these encouraging words.

From Julia:

Song for a Fifth Child
By Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat- a- cake, darling and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard and there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep.

. . . .

My friend, Katie, sent me this great article.

At night when I say my prayers, I thank God for meeting my need for girlfriends.

Thank you.

Love, the Cuddler

The latest fall fashion

OK, I did not give the Cuddler permission to use my blog for her whoa-as-me rant. However, due to the OVER WHELMING response through the blog, facebook, and email, I will allow her a brief follow up in the coming days.

The Latest Fall Fashion.

You might think that the latest fall fashion is this fabulous handmade applique that Riley's mom, Mrs. Katie, made me for my birthday. I know. It really is too cute. No, the Cuddler has no sewing talent.







As great as my guitar shirt is, it is not what all the fashionistas are raging for. All of Paris and Vicksburg is going wild for the "self portrait" t-shirt. I got mine at my daycare, but they may be available at some of the other higher end boutiques.





All the cool kids are doing it.

Love, a double take of Plum

Having it all

This a rant by the Cuddler.

I'm going to say what I think most working moms are thinking or feeling. If not, disregard. Whoever said you could have it all, never tried to be good at it all. There. I've said it. The cat is out of the bag. All you bright eyed girls listen up.

Growing up we are told that we can be whatever we want to be. However, when you decide at 18 that what you want to be is a engineer [can also be substituted with accountant, lawyer, public relations guru, doctor whatever] and then at 30 you realize all you REALLY want to be a mom, you have a problem. See by 30, you have accumulated some astronomical student loan debt (um, private law school) or you married for love and not money (JR drove an 88 Tempo with no air or radio when we started dating. He was not, however, old enough to legally drive.) or whatnot, then you know what you have to do. You have to put on your big girl panties and get on with the balancing act and lean on friends because your husband is just not going to get it.

Since when does a mother have to do it all and be perfect at EVERYTHING? It is exhausting. We have to be successful in our careers, have picture perfect children, our homes extravagant and tidy, our marriage happy and romantic, oh, and I forget we are suppose to be skinny and pretty too. How can you be skinny and pretty when you are sleep deprived, your kid keeps hiding your hair straighter, and there is not time to exercise? When you figure it out let me know. You better make some choices and prioritize.

Through all of this, if you are lucky, you have friends that help you get through the day. They listen to your sob stories. They email you back while at work and tell you that they are willing to take a hit out the kid who bit your baby yesterday. You have friends that-even though they are struggling with infertility-love your baby because they love you and you love your baby. Transitive property. You have friends with babies that eat pancakes on Saturday with you in name of play date even though neither kid even looks at the other. So thank you to all of my supportive friends. You know who you are.

In the name of choices, I'm going to make breakfast so some friends can come over. The guys can watch college game day and the boys can ignore each other. There is some dog hair on our floor (I really LOVE my dogs and no John Hinton is not allergic to dogs.), it looks like babiesrus threw up in our living room, there is laundry piled our our bedroom, I didn't make our bed, and I don't care.

Love, an exhausted, happy, and honest Cuddler

Veteran's Day

How did you spend Veteran's Day? Did you remember all of those men and women and their families who have given so much of themselves so we can live free? I did. The Cuddler and I talked about my PapPaw John who served in Cuba assembling bombs as part of the Navy during World War II and my grandfather, James Richard Armstrong, who was an Army mechanic. I never got to know either of them, but I will know that they were willing to make sacrifices for our country. My Aunt Lorrie is in the Army reserves and Uncle Patrick was in the Air Force. We are thankful for them and so many other brave service men and women.

So, the Cuddler had the day off. She and I took a trip to Kroger. I love Kroger. We got lots of goodies for the weekend. We are having a play date with my buddy Nic Lee. Here I am enjoying the ride.




My PawPaw says that he is going to take me to Save-a-Lot soon. He loves a trip to the grocery as much as I do.

Lots of Love, a thankful little Plum