Sweet Nothings

With all the kid sadness going around lately, I just want to pinch my little guy's cheeks to red and plant kisses all over his round little face. Which is not so round anymore since the baby fat rolls are gone. But, he won't let me hold or cuddle him anymore. On rare occasion that I manage to land a few smooches, he wipes them off and tells me that I am not to give him any more kisses.


"We'll, see big talker. Not such a big boy when you wake up in the middle of the night crying for mommy, are ya!?" (Actually, that doesn't happen anymore, either.)

I just have to face it, the baby is all-grown up. He's big enough to take advantage of our weakness for his persuasive charms. Like when he needs help climbing a tree -- a new passion-- he'll play the "I need help 'cuz I'm just a little guy" card. Loves to call himself "little guy." (Is manipulation instinctive for pretty people?)

My big/little guy has a hairdresser and her name is Jessica. She's this pretty little thing that gives her FULL attention and laughs at his jokes. Its a big day at our house when he gets a haircut. I can twist his arm to get whatever I need, lest I threaten to cancel. This last time, I assumed my usual position next to him in the chair. And he told me "Mommy, just go sit over there," pointing, no, dismissing me to the waiting area. (Do all men instinctively gravitate to eye-candy?)

Little Guy is a nude monger. He strips himself completely bare at nap time and calls himself "Naked Baby." He then proceeds to make requests in the third person. "Naked Baby needs his blanky. Naked baby needs you to close the closet door. Tell Naked Baby a story about when you were little." But don't you call him a baby or you'll get told. (OK, I get that being naked is fun when there's no shame in your game.)

I've been down lately about my house still not being put back together from Ike. There are still a few projects that stand between "complete" and where we are now. And there have been days that I can't remember taking the time to play or laugh with my boy. Some days are a blur of harsh words, timeouts, and spankings.

I must remind myself that I can't get today back or whatever day it was that I moped around my house too spent to do anything productive. We're all healthy. MMA is gainfully employed. I adore those two. And I am just really thankful for everyday things like fussing over my healthy, egotistical little boy.

(Who just asked "Mom, could you go get some goodies from the goody bowl and share 'em with your little one." How can I say "no" to that?) Maybe I can trade him some candy for the option to run my fingers through his curls.

A Tale of Two Chips: Mommy Cuts, Part II

"Denny's has the Best Nachos ever!" M&M said at Girly Stuff's Superbowl Party as I helped myself to seconds and thirds of all the cheesilicious dips that she had brought.

My ears instantly perked up.

"Really?...Denny's?...I would never think to order Nachos from Denny's..." I think I said.



So today after church, MMA decided we should go, (where else?) to Denny's for breakfast since we rushed out of the house without eating much.

Since it was technically after noon when we sat down, and since I never order anything but breakfast at Denny's, I decided to live a little. M&M knows her way around a tortilla chip, so I figured I was in for a treat. Besides, one of my favorite foods of all time are ballpark nachos and I hardly ever make it to an Astros game anymore.

Oh, I like the kind of nachos you can get anywhere with the processed cheese food, canned jalapenos and round chips in a plastic tray. But if I'm at Minute Maid Park, I am magnetically and inexplicably pulled to the deluxe nachos every time. The deluxe start out like regular nachos, but then they are slathered in chili taco meat, sour cream, salsa and served with a spork. The first few bites are heavenly, but from there, the whole experience goes downhill, fast. I should know better by this stage in life...

My husband forced a half smile in my direction as I dove in. He was trying not to judge my choice. I did not care, anyway. The monster mound in front of me was my muse for the moment. Huge, sloppy, cheesy and just greasy enough, Denny's nachos did not disappoint!

I ate about half the plate when the urge to run to the bathroom started to kick in. That was my cue to stop eating. The mind was willing but the flesh was weak. I told MMA to go pay and don't look back. I thought being left alone at the table and pretending to myself that he would drive off without me would be the only way I could pull myself away before things turned........ugly.

He said gently, "No, I'm not in any hurry."

Unspoken expression runs so deep between long-term partners. I looked at the half-devoured mess on my plate and back at the one who sat across from me. A man who has seen me at my best, at my worst and like today in chili-stained weakness. I looked at him grateful to be loved in this condition.

"Why did I order these?" I asked as the churning in my stomach became audible.

"You love to hate yourself," he answered, without a hint of judgement. He just said what was, at that table in Denny's today.

I began to nod in agreement as he brought to my attention that what I was actually eating, were Minute Maid Deluxe Nachos.

"Gasp!" The room was spinning as I started checking off familiar ingredients in my head. Twice the portion. Half the price. But these were the very same nachos made famous by Aramark. They love me and they leave me...burning, every time.

They found me because I couldn't come to them. If distance makes the heart grow fonder, maybe their new-found accessibility (right in my own backyard) will cure me of this tormenting affair. One thing is for sure, we can't go on like this.

Excuse me, (pant, pant) I need to take care of some private business!