THRILLER

Michael Jackson knew how to get the party started.

One cannot argue with this universal truth. Go to a wedding and listen to a Michael Jackson song; people will get up and dance. Test me on this truth, I submit that you will be unable to stay seated. If there is a boring wedding, Amy has the DJ play "Billie Jean" and the guests will start dancing then stay until we kick them out.

You cannot argue with the wedding planner on this one.

In light of this truth, we decided to learn the "Thriller" dance while the *tile was drying. We researched Youtube and I am going to a studio this weekend to fine tune my moves. (White, country girls need all the help they can get, my friends.) Oh yes, if there's a boring party in the future, the McCord Sisters are ready.








*I will post on the Great Bathroom Remodel as soon as it is finished and not mocking me from the other room. Until then, I have found comfort in my mastery of the "Zombie Walk."

I am Not Gwen Stefani

While getting my daily dose of celebrity gossip, I saw a picture that rocked me to my core. I felt despair. I felt old. I felt frumpalicious. (My new word for what I look like when I wear my yoga pants all day and neglect my hair and make-up.) I found this picture to be cruel to mothers everywhere:



Seriously, Gwen? How in the hell do you look that hot with a baby and a toddler?

So many things are missing from this picture:

-Baby vomit on your shoulder
-A pooch of baby weight that will never come off
-The diaper bag bigger than the baby
-The "is this really my life?" look on your face

It's time to step up my game. I'm going straight to the sink to brush my teeth, slather on some red lipstick and then throw on my high-heeled boots.

Because I will not be defeated by Gwen Stefani.

Brush with Popularity

I've never been popular a day in my life.

Something about the "cool gene" passed right by me as I was the girl that desperately needed a Kleenex all the time and giggled at the word "sex" in the dictionary. My name is Sara, and I'm a dork.

Anyhoo- popularity was the golden medal and it just wasn't going to be awarded to me, and I was cool with that.

Until today.

Since I am the Mommy now, I am used to my decisions being regarded as unpopular by my toddler. I insist on green veggies in his diet, an early bedtime and manners. I am the one that takes his pacifier away and ruins his fun on a regular basis when that fun involves hot stoves, toilet paper or eating a giant stick.

However, as I enjoyed a nice bowl of vanilla ice cream this afternoon, my son, (who had been previously mad at me about giving him water instead of juice), ran up to me and made the sign for "please." (If you have ever seen him to this, you are well aware that it leaves you helpless and compliant to his wishes.) I caved and gave him a few bites, even though he's mildly allergic to cow's milk. This is what followed:

"Mmmmmm! Mama!"

Takes a bite.

"Thank you!" (Still sounds like "KANK you!")

Promptly gives me a big kiss on the lips....without being asked, begged or bribed.

*This pattern repeated every time I gave him a bite*

I let him eat the entire bowl. Both of our lips were sticky with kisses and ice cream, and I hung my head in shame for selling out his nutrition for 60 seconds of being the "Cool Mom."

Mine

Learning to talk is a big deal around here. My son is taking his time, gearing up to talk when he darn well pleases. His Daddy and I have no idea where he got his stubborn streak. Well, then.

I was told by my Parents as Teachers coach that he is in the "gray area" in the language department. (I haven't been worried about it since my sister popped off with "F--- the gray area; he's brilliant.") Ahem. So, how do you fret after that?

He did learn, with the assistance of his best buddy, Lola, how to say "mine" today. They have taken turns yelling "MINE!" at each other most of the morning. Let's see, they've fought over a tennis racket, a pacifier, a book and a piece of fuzz. I was rolling my eyes at how childish the toddlers were acting.

Then, they grabbed my beautiful iron candlesticks and started tugging.

In an emotional moment...without thinking.....I ran to save my candlesticks........I yelled......... to my everlasting shame...........

"MINE!"


I have joined the ranks of the emotionally immature:

Runs with Knives

This is a new nightly ritual:



It started because he grabbed a knife off the counter and went running while I was cooking. He is now banned from the kitchen and any potential disasters from those grabby hands of his.

Clearly, he doesn't appreciate it and has put in an order for a new Mommy STAT:



It's horrible, he can't even look at me:



Yes, it's this dramatic every night.

The Big Screw-Up

I thrive on organization.

So, imagine my shock, horror and denial when I was told that I had single-handedly booked 2 weddings at the same time. Seriously, I missed Wedding Planners 101 to make that kind of mistake.

One thing I do know about the wedding business: It is unforgivable to ruin a bride's day. Therefore, I immediately went into crisis mode: vomiting and Pentecostal praying.

After much negotiating, sweet-talking, um...begging and compromise we reach an acceptable conclusion that would involve 2 back-to-back weddings. Now, all I had to do was wait patiently, (obsess), until the big day arrived. Of course, I couldn't sleep. I would wake up at 2 in the morning and think about the flower orders or the beer kegs. There is also a distinct possibility that I got on the Lord's nerves with my panic prayers.

I expected people to laugh, tell me what a big mistake I'd made or ask me to reconsider being a business owner. Through that entire 4 weeks, what I didn't expect was grace. In my opinion, I did not deserve any grace for the screw-up of all wedding planner screw-ups. Yet, strangely, this is what was I got:

"It's okay, I'm sure I've done worse. I love you!"
"I can fly in and try to break-up one of the engagements!"
"You are the Chuck Norris of wedding planners!"
"I'll drive down and work for free to help you with the day."
"Every business owner makes mistakes. My nose bleeds daily. Take responsibility, fix it and move on."

I walked into the wedding this weekend, fueled and humbled by grace. Amazingly, the day was perfect. Our crew was flawless, our brides were happy, and there was leftover wine and cake.

Grace is a beautiful thing, indeed.

Cale and the Little Lady in His Life

This is Cale and Emma:



They have been buds since they were simultaneously kicking the crap out of me and Carolyn in the womb. They both entered the world, prepared with their own ideas about things and a determination not to let us sleep for about a year. It's okay, though. If I was having a bad day, I found comfort that Carolyn was, too. It's a twisted mommy thing I can't explain. And, I have issues.

Now that they are toddlers, I see a fine friendship forming. Please note that I did not say "a great love story" as neither one will be dating until they are out of college.




I will say, however, that she has taken over a few of my roles. I wasn't jealous, I was kind of giddy the first time she dumped a bucket of water on his head and went to scrubbing:



Surprisingly, he just sat there nicely and let her wash his hair. He doesn't even show me that kind of respect. Wait a minute, maybe I am a little jealous.

It's also important to her that he play with the toy she deems appropriate at the time, eats what she's eating, drinks all of his milk and doesn't hold up the line:


*To be fair, it was her birthday and he was kind of slow.

Yesirree, this little lady makes him walk the line. And......his hair always smells fabulous after she's gone.



I think all guys need a little Emma in their lives...

Safety Girl

I was the girl that did this:



Then, a few days ago, my son jumped out of his crib and gave himself a nice shiner. I screamed, my sister almost called 911, my husband came home early from work because of the trauma and......my son did it again the next day.

Now, I am the girl that does this:



*None of my beds or couches have cushions or pillows anymore. I am the official Nazi of Safety, my friends...