These Are The Days Of Kindergarten Lives

I could tell she had a rough day from the way she flopped on the couch. Normally she bursts through the house, says hello to her toys, and shows me what she did at school.

“What’s wrong?” I pressed. I sat down next to her and noticed glitter near her left eye. There’s always glitter on some part of her body thanks to her glittery dress/shoes/shirts…she also likes to play with actual glitter, much to my chagrin. I once found her flinging it in the air and dancing in it as it came down.

“It’s raining pixie dust!” she had informed me gleefully. She looked so happy that I didn’t even chastise her.

Now she wasn’t happy. Her lower lip was puffed out and she buried her face into the couch pillow.

“Fklsdfjklj,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the fabric.

“What?”

She sniffled and looked up. “He broke my heart!” Then her face disappeared into the pillow again. Her tiny body started to shake and I sat there, baffled.

Broke her heart?

She was FIVE!

A baby!

She still wore cartoon underpants and believed that glitter was pixie dust!

Who was HE?

“Who broke your heart?” I asked. How was I already dealing with this? Teenage years I could comprehend. But Kindergarten?

“Matthew,” she whispered, coming up for air.

It’s a boy she loves playing with at school. She’ll randomly say at home, “I wonder if Matthew will think I look pretty in this?” or, “I wonder if Matthew thinks I look pretty with my hair long?” In the morning when I drop her off at school, if she spots Matthew, she’ll flutter her eyelashes at him and wave her fingertips in his direction. He’ll always give her a wide grin and shout, “Hi Natalie!” Sometimes he chases her. She’ll shriek and run away with a wide smile on her face.

And now he broke her heart.

“How did he break your heart?” I wanted to know.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “He….wouldn’t chase me today. He IGNORED me!” She looked mortified.

“Boys can be fickle creatures,” I explained. “Especially if they lose a game.” I made a face as I thought of Tom yelling at the computer if someone dared to blow up his tank.

“He doesn’t like me anymore,” she said.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I promised.

I managed to cheer her up by making a face out of apples and raisins. She might be a dramatic child, but small things like a face from food still amuse her.

The next day after school she seemed happier.

“Matthew and I are back together!” she announced and I nearly fell over. “He broke my heart but he didn’t today!”

“Back together?” I repeated as though it were a dirty word. “You’re only 5! I still wipe your butt after you poop!”

Natalie gave me a Look.

“We’re FRIENDS!” she said as though I were a complete idiot.

Okay. Friends who got back together. Cool.

She and Matthew seem to be okay again. She hasn’t come home all sad and broken hearted.

But guys? I’m scared. If she’s this dramatic about boys at the age of FIVE…imagine how she’ll behave at FIFTEEN.

Help me.

Only In The South.....

^"30 Jesus replied and said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and ^[a]beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. ³¹ And by chance a priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. ³² Likewise a Levite also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. ³³ But a Samaritan, who was on a journey, came upon him; and when he saw him, he felt compassion,..."  The story of the Good Samaritan is one of my favorite Bible stories.  Yesterday I saw it in action and knew why I love living in the south.  There is no place on earth like it.  You see, I left my house early yesterday....10 til 5,  because I had some things I wanted to get done before the kids arrived at school.  The sun seemed late rising but I was enjoying XM The Message on my radio.  From Wadley on there was a work truck behind me that seemed to be following a little too close.  They had a few opportunities to pass but seemed to just hand back behind me.  Somewhere just outside of Daviston  I spotted a female deer on the left side of the road.....I began to slow because they are known to jump out in front of you.  I would not know how true thought was until....from out of nowhere.....came a charging male deer.  I slammed on my brakes, screamed like a banshee, threw my left arm up to protect my face from getting hit with the air bags....and I hit him square in the center of my hood.  I stopped on the side of the road and so did the work truck behind me.  The two men jumped out and instead of asking which way the deer went were genuinely concerned with how I was.  I told them I was fine and they quickly assessed the damage to my car and decided it needed to be moved across the road and out of the path of on-coming traffic since the radiator was steaming and hissing.  The hood holder had punctured the radiator.  GREAT!  .  Bless their hearts....When I realized  exactly what happened and saw that I had service I called Frank and came unglued.  The two of them just stood there and looked so sad for me.  Frank told me he was on his way and to call 911...which I did.  It was now 6:30.  911 was lovely and she connected me with the Alabama State Troopers office.  They assured me someone was on the way.  I told the men waiting with me that they could go about their lives....they were headed to a class in Clanton and had to be there at 8.  They told me they were staying til Frank got there....and they did.  Only in the South would you find strangers like this.  They were so nice.  They asked for nothing....they were just there with me....and I felt safe!  I was so shaken that all I remember is one's first name (Ronnie) and one's last name (Wheeles) and that they were from Wadley and Lineville.  I would love to write them each a Thank You note....but alas.  When Frank arrived they explained to him what they saw, and then they were gone.  The time was 7:02. Two hours later the High Patrol arrived, took my report and called the wrecker.  The wrecker was there about an hour later, loaded up my little HHR and we followed it to Norwood's Body Shop where we left it and picked up a Chevrolet Cruze rental.  If I ever thought about owning a Cruze believe me that thought is gone.  It is one of the most miserable rides I have ever had.  It drives like a dream....but feels as if you are sitting on a concrete block.  Living in the South is a place where....your neighbors bring you food when something is wrong, folks stop and check on you if there is a strange car in your drive....I love living in the South.  This morning I was really nervous heading to school.  It was so foggy.  Right past Clark Brothers Meats I saw three deer standing on the side of the road and almost turned around and went back home.  I drove very slowly heading down Hwy 22 and every single mailbox freaked me out.....I thought they were deer.  I will never fuss at a slow driver again.....who knows....they might have hit one too and be just as skittish as I am.  Many valuable lessons were learned in the past couple of days....and I truly believe....it was a God Thing!

Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!

I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up and that the post you link up is a Hey, It's Okay Post.

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To wonder if the kids on Dance Moms have to pay for their costumes. It seems like they have new elaborate ones each week. I wonder if the show foots the bill?


To have watched End of Watch over the weekend and liked it. Sometimes those actiony films are too much for me but it wasn’t bad.


To think some people get way to into football.


To be trying to figure out what places we must eat at when we go to Disney. We just have the quick service plan so it’s all fast food. There are so many choices! I know one we’re going to do for sure is Be Our Guest.


To have filed our taxes. Now we wait. And then we pay off our Disney trip.


To be excited that my Target is remodeling. I guess they are adding fresh produce in the store too? And all the shelves have come down and switched places so that was odd at first.


To think it’s awesome that Tommy does productive things on his iPod Touch. He logs onto his reading and math programs from school and does a couple of questions. Without me even asking him to. He says he’s worried his brain will turn to mush.


To love these Red Velvet Pop Tarts:

Go Away Daddy!

The bible tells us in Phillipians 4:8, "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is ^[a]lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, ^[b]dwell on these things."  It is because of this verse that I feel I must speak out this morning.  I love to watch the Super Bowl....not for the football....but for the commercials.  I have to admit that over the years the Doritos, E-trade, and Budweiser (with the Clydesdales only) commercials have entertainmed me tremendously.  Last night I was so excited about what would be offered this year.  The pre-game show with the Sandy Hook choir and Jennifer Hudson was amazing.  Alicia Keyes singing the National Anthem was also fantabulous.  I cried like a baby through all....as did many of the players on both teams.  The game began....and so did the commercials.....the Jeep commercial made me cry, the Doritos goat commercial made me laugh out loud....and then.....right there....during prime time....when children were still up and watching television.....was the grossest and most disgusting commercial I have ever seen.....Go-daddy!  Why?  What was the purpose of showing a beautiful woman and a nerdy guy suck face (and that is what they did) on national television?   It was soft porn in my eyes.  I was embarassed and the only person in the room was my husband!  We have let the media go too far on what they show.  I remember when Fred Flintstone and Wilma were the first married couple to be shown in bed....together.....and I remember when Rhett Butler carried Scarlett up the staircase....and with his boot....kicked the door in the viewers face.  Why can we not go back to this????  I don't WANT to know what goes on behind closed doors of people on the screen.  I don't want to see people kiss like that last night.  I don't want to have to explain those actions to children.  After last night I will say that if Go-daddy were the only business where I could get a domain....I would do without one!  I was glad they saved the Clydesdale/Budweiser commercial for after Go-Daddy.  It helped take the foul taste from my mouth.  I think it is time for Americans to stand up and say...Protect the innocence of our children.....No More Filth!

 

This Thing Called The Super Bowl

“So I got cheese sticks, chips, dip, and various Little Debbie snacks to eat during the Super Bowl. ‘Cause, you know, calories don’t count during the big game,” I explained to Tom on Sunday.

Tom looked up from his iPad and frowned. “The Super Bowl?” he repeated.

“Yes. The big game.” I nodded.

“Do you even know who is playing?” Tom wanted to know.

He asked because I am not into sports. And here I was prattling on about snack foods to eat during the Super Bowl as though I planned to actually watch it.

“Yes. The 49ers and the Ravens,” I answered in a haughty tone. Yes, I only knew this because of my Facebook feed but he didn’t need to know that.

“What number Super Bowl is it?” Tom continued.

“Um. Thirty….three?”

He smirked. “And you plan on watching it?”

“Uh…the first ten minutes and then I’ll probably get bored and switch it over. Thank goodness you don’t want ot watch it—”

“I never said that.”

What? Tom really isn’t into sports either. Unless the Cleveland Browns are playing, which is rare, because they tend to suck. And Tom has grumbled a few times that the Ravens are just old Cleveland Browns players.

“Please don’t make me watch the whole thing. I got the foods because even though we might not watch the whole game, at least we can eat like we are,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

Anyway, we ended up watching most of the game. Well, Tom did. I was reading. But then he'd shout and carry on when a big, burly Raven scored and would startle me so I'd get distracted. Honestly, must they be so loud? When Mary and Matthew finally got together on Downton Abbey I was thrilled but I didn't stand up and scream about it.

Then the power went out at the Super Bowl and I was like, "See? Even the Universe is bored," and Tom agreed that we could watch something else--for a bit--then I had to switch it back over and he saw the 49ers were doing better and ranted that if they won, it would be this huge controversy and people would wonder if someone on their side switched the lights off so they could win and blah, blah, blah.

I just wanted the game to end.

3 minutes in football time is like 30 minutes.

Finally it was over and Tom was pleased. He kept explaining all these rules at the end. Something about how after the fourth down the ball switched teams and something about field goals and letting the clock run out...honestly, I tuned him out and went back to reading.

So that was football in our house.

I'm Still Sexy So What's Up With Him and Movie Tickets Winner!

I had a giveaway for the book I’m Still Sexy So What’s Up With Him? plus two movie tickets here.



I used random.org to pick a winner and it chose….

…number 7, which is Rachel.



Congrats!

If you didn’t win, I have 2 giveaways going right now so try again.

You can win a $10 gift card to HSN.com here

And a copy of the book Saturday Night Widows here.

Paintings of Martha Washington

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Martha Dandridge Custis Washington (1731-1802) was painted more than any other 18th century woman in America during her lifetime.

On February 4, 2009, the Washington Post published a portrait of Martha painted by Michael J. Deas as the cover of a 2005 book about Martha by Patricia Brady, a Tulane PhD. Because Martha burned her correspondence with her husband at his death; there are scant primary sources to use as tools to reconstruct her feelings & thoughts.

 

The recent, portrait of Martha prompted Post writer, Brigid Schulte, to announce that Martha was actually "hot," and not the "frumpy, dumpy, plump old lady" we all picture. She even added the tantalizing revelation that while George was courting her, Martha had another suitor, a Virginia planter with much greater wealth & stature. In a little-known letter, Charles Carter wrote to his brother about what a beauty she was & how he hoped to "arouse a flame in her breast."

 

The titillating newspaper article & Brady's book are geared toward 21st century sensibilities and commercial sales, not toward 18th century expectations or realities.

The new portrait was based on CSI-type age regression from the James Peale (1749-1831) miniature portrait of Martha by forensic anthropologists at the Louisiana State University Forensic Anthropology and Computer Enhancement Services, or FACES, Laboratory.

Deas painted the face that the lab came up with onto an imaginary perfect body of a 21st-century-anorexic-top-model-type completely transforming the "the mousy, fat widow that dashing and virile Washington married only for money."

 

The 18th century ideal looked for women with soft, plump faces & graceful arms extending from softly sloping shoulders held well back giving the body an elegant serpentine S line. Today's female ideal is one with a thin face & sharp facial features & hands, and protruding collarbones announcing an athletic, buff body type.

 

Reactions to the portrait of the new Martha-makeover may be even more startling. Brady states that the normally controlled (exceptions are allowed here for his interactions with the newly-married young Lafayette & Sally Fairfax, the wife of his best friend) George was "clearly sexually excited by her" (Martha, that is). Brady based her insight on 2 letters from George that escaped Martha's fire. Both were written as he commanded the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War. The warm letters addressed her as "My dearest."

 

Edward Lengel, senior editor at the extraordinary primary source Papers of George Washington project at the University of Virginia, discreetly declared that "she was quite a beautiful woman in her younger years, and Washington loved her deeply." Lengel recently discovered a rare letter from Martha to George in 1777, where she calls him "My Love."

"There's enough circumstantial evidence really to show that they were very close," Lengel genteely noted. James Flexner, an earlier 20th century Washington biographer, called Martha's letters "an incoherent jumble of affection and gossip."

The Mount Vernon Ladies Association, always keen managers of the Washington legacy, bought the Deas portrait & promptly enshrined it with a reproduction of Martha's wedding gown in their education center, a respectable distance from the 18th century house.

Emily Shapiro, curator at Mount Vernon, took the Post reporter on a tour of the Martha images at Mount Vernon explaining that most are of "as one historian describes it, of the double-chinned Old Mother Hubbard variety." Shapiro theorized that the dowdy white-haired images, painted shortly after both George & Martha had died, fostered a sense of legitimacy for the fledgling country.

 

The paintings on this post will be only those painted during Martha's lifetime.

 

Shapiro showed the Washington Post reporter the case displaying Martha's reproduction once sparkly purple wedding shoes, which she and Mount Vernon Executive Director James Rees described as a little sassy & definitely "over the top" for the time, which is exactly the way that I would describe the new Deas portrait. But perhaps that is because I am a frumpy, dumpy, plump, double-chinned Old Mother Hubbard variety of historian.

This is the biography of Martha Dandridge Custis Washington from the White House website.

 

"I think I am more like a state prisoner than anything else, there is certain bounds set for me which I must not depart from..." So in one of her surviving letters, Martha Washington confided to a niece that she did not entirely enjoy her role as first of First Ladies. She once conceded that "many younger and gayer women would be extremely pleased" in her place; she would "much rather be at home."

But when George Washington took his oath of office in New York City on April 30, 1789, and assumed the new duties of President of the United States, his wife brought to their position a tact and discretion developed over 58 years of life in Tidewater Virginia society.

Oldest daughter of John and Frances Dandridge, she was born June 2, 1731, on a plantation near Williamsburg. Typical for a girl in an 18th-century family, her education was almost negligible except in domestic and social skills, but she learned all the arts of a well-ordered household and how to keep a family contented.

As a girl of 18--about five feet tall, dark-haired, gentle of manner--she married the wealthy Daniel Parke Custis. Two babies died; two were hardly past infancy when her husband died in 1757.

From the day Martha married George Washington in 1759, her great concern was the comfort and happiness of her husband and children. When his career led him to the battlegrounds of the Revolutionary War and finally to the Presidency, she followed him bravely. Her love of private life equaled her husband's; but, as she wrote to her friend Mercy Otis Warren, "I cannot blame him for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country." As for herself, "I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances."

At the President's House in temporary capitals, New York and Philadelphia, the Washingtons chose to entertain in formal style, deliberately emphasizing the new republic's wish to be accepted as the equal of the established governments of Europe. Still, Martha's warm hospitality made her guests feel welcome and put strangers at ease. She took little satisfaction in " formal compliments and empty ceremonies" and declared that "I am fond of only what comes from the heart." Abigail Adams, who sat at her right during parties and receptions, praised her as "one of those unassuming characters which create Love and Esteem."

In 1797 the Washingtons said farewell to public life and returned to their beloved Mount Vernon, to live surrounded by kinfolk, friends, and a constant stream of guests eager to pay their respects to the celebrated couple. Martha's daughter Patsy had died, as had her son Jack at 26, but Jack's children figured in the household. After George Washington died in 1799, Martha assured a final privacy by burning their letters; she died of "severe fever" on May 22, 1802. Both lie buried at Mount Vernon, where Washington himself had planned an unpretentious tomb for them.

 

1757 John Wollaston (1710-1775) Martha Dandridge (Daniel Parke Custis) (Mrs George Washington) Washington and Lee. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact Washington and Lee for an accurate image.)

 

1789-96 Edward Savage (1761-1817). The Washington Family (detail). National Gallery of Art. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact the national gallery for an accurate image.)

1790 Edward Savage (1761-1817). Martha Washington. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Adams National Historic Site, Quincey, Massachusettes. (Reproduction at FoundersofAmerica.com. Contact the Adams site for an accurate image.)

1791-2 Archibald Robertson (1765-1835). Martha Washington. Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact CWF for an accurate image.)

1793 John Trumbull (1756-1843). Martha Washington. National Museum of Amrican History, Washington D.C. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact the museum for an accurate image.)

1795 Charles Willson Peale (1741-1827). Martha Washington. Virginia Historical Society, Richmond. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact the VHS for an accurate image.)

1796 Gilbert Stuart (1755-1828). Martha Washington. National Portrait Gallery and Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. (Reproduction at bestpriceart.com. Contact the portrait gallery for an accurate image.)

1796 James Peale ( 1749-1831). Martha Washington. The Mount Vernon Ladies Association. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact Mount Vernon for an accurate image.)

1796 James Sharples (1751-1811). Martha Washington. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce.)

1800 Martha Washington. National Portrait Gallery. (This depiction is from a lecture slide. Do not copy or reproduce. Contact the museum for an accurate image.)

2004 Michael J. Deas. Martha Washington. Mount Vernon Ladies Association. (Contact the Mount Vernon Ladies Association for an accurate image.)

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