Wild Weekends

Wild weekends...

Yeah, right!

And we wouldn't have it any. other. way.

Here's a little peak into our weekend.

So last night, John McRae and I were doing what we do before bedtime. We were laying in bed reading books, singing the alphabet, counting to twenty, singing songs, etc.

Then, I began to say each letter of the alphabet and John McRae would tell me something that started with that letter. We rocked on good until we got to P.  For some reason, I didn't let him pick the word. I said, "P is for purple." He giggled and said, "P is for POO POO!" The kid thought it was the funniest thing, EVER!

I have to admit, it was pretty funny and we had a deep belly laugh for about 20 minutes. Then, his little country self was saying, "Peee Yewwwww" and dragging it out for about twenty leven syllables.

The kid is such a comedian.

We were supposed to have really bad weather last night. We might have, and I hear from others that we did, but all three of us slept right through it. There was one time right before I dozed off that I heard either a train or a tornado. I really need some clarification on whether to be alarmed by the rumbling or the Choo Choo part.

John McRae has told me three mornings in a row, "Come on Mama, it's breakfast time!"  Then, he'll say in a very demading way while throwing a paper plate at me, "Make biscuits!"  Yesterday evening and this morning he wanted "yo-yo." (Yogurt for those who do not speak 3 year old.)

And you will notice that I referred to myself as Mama. The kid changed my name again. I'm no longer Mommy, dangit. I'm Mama, again. I wanted to be Mommy for the rest of my life.  Just like Daniel wants to be DaDa til the day he dies.

John McRae counted to 12 all by himself this weekend and I didn't even request it. He only said 9 twice. Way to go, Smarty Pants! He's so into counting everything these days. He counts every time he makes a step. It's very cute and he is so darn proud of himself. I'm proud of him, too. =)

He wants an elephant birthday party. His new love is for he and I to look at elephant birthday cakes and cupcakes on the internet. He gets so excited that he starts sweating. No lie.

Saturday evening, John McRae went to his GrandmaPawPaw's (one word). Daniel and I watched a Christmas movie that we had DVR'd. You just can't beat a Griswald Christmas.

Sunday, we set off for Meridian to do a little grocery shopping, but stopped by Long's Fish Camp on our way to get some lunch. I figured JMc would take a late nap because we slept until after 8, and after 9 the morning before.  After we ate, all three of us were past going so we drove back home for a nap.

Remember, we don't live near anything.

So after nap and the last half of the football game, we starting to Meridian again. This time we made it. Anytime we go to Meridian, JMc thinks we are going to see the animals. The kid thinks Petco better than the zoo. We just didn't have time for it, so I took him to see the fish at Wal-Mart. He wasn't impressed.

Shopping with D and JMc is just too much testosterone.

During the later part of the trip, D turns to JMc and says, "Son, I can't stand this either and I know it would make so much more sense for your Mama to come up here alone, but she can't for all of the perverts and idiots. So, we are stuck doing this from now on."  I was almost done shopping and after 35 mins or so, they were still in the book section hunting the perfect "animal book."

Time we walked out of Wal-Mart, JMc says, "It's time to eat." He wanted Chick-fil-a, but I told him that they took Sunday off in honor of Jesus.  So no baby, you can't go to "PawPaw Coke in my eye" as he calls Chick-fil-a.

Oh, and D had to drive three hours to go to Macon for dog food Saturday morning. The Puh-ty's food got knocked over by the huge orange, wild cat that is hanging out around our house every night. Dang cat knocked over the plastic container and ate all of the food. Usually it just tears into our garbage and eats it. Stupid cat!

And all the dog wanted to eat was uncooked spaghetti noodles.

We took JMc to McDonald's to get him some chicken bok bok since Chick-fil-a was closed and he immediately said "ice cream." Stinker. He ate the chicken and then got all hacked because his hands were too greasy to pick up his drink.

That about sums it up.

Never a dull moment.
I don't have time to spell check. So, there is no telling what typos you will find in this.
It can be your homework or somethign.

XOXO,
Stacy

Too impure for mass

On days like today,

Weeks like theses,

This month has been full of stress, wonder, worry, and not enough hours in the day.  So, I've been reflecting back on some of the funniest moments with my sometimes dysfunctional, yet perfect, family. We can sure find ourselves in some sticky situations, but have a way of making the best of it and pushing forward.

Today, I will share with you my first experience with the Catholic church. While I enjoyed the service very much, I just might be banned from ever going back. I'm still not sure and I've yet to go back in fear of them remembering that girl who was to impure to "bite the rice."

Think back to a time of being fairly newly wed, childless, and plenty money to spare. I cannot remember the exact year, but it was probably around 2007. I flew into North Carolina to spend a few days with Emma and her family.  This was my first solo flight and I managed to do perfectly well in  finding my way around the Atlanta airport. I made it to my connecting flight and I did not get kidnapped.  Those were my two goals.

Upon arrival, I learned that some friends had invited E & her bunch (including me) over for dinner. Let's just say E & I had a large time and I'm probably not welcome there any longer either. Remember, this was years ago before I gained much sense.  Heck, I wasn't even 25!  E & I had not seen each other in a long time and were really just enjoying each other's company. The fact that her friend was serving up these delicious lemon drop martinis did not help the situation at all. The next day we were both bruised, confused, and somewhat embarrassed.  I loved every minute of it!

So my visit rocks on, and we definitely needed a dose of Jesus after the ruckus we had caused the night prior.  That said, no children were harmed, not many feelings were hurt, and really we were just getting our sillies out.  We loaded up in their van - 2 adults, me, and two awesome kiddos on our way to Mass.  E, like me, was not raised Catholic, but is now so in love with her church and is very, very active. I'm so proud of the wonderful, caring, lover of Jesus that she is. On the way, they give me a little crash course on what not to do since I am not a member of the Catholic church. I was told how to hold my hands, where to walk, etc. I paid close attention because I remember E making the comment, "J damned me to hell for years and years because he never told me not to eat the sacred bread." She didn't call it sacred bread, but I am still so got off with about this entire episode that I've not given myself the chance to get it all right and remember the correct terminologies. Forgive me in advance and no discredit to the Catholic faith.  So picture yourself in the church gym. Yes, in the gym, because the church had grown so big that they needed more room and services were being held in the gym until the new construction was finished.  So, yea. Lots of people. As I'm sitting there in the bleachers, not having a clue of what to say when they are saying what they say, I feel a slight notion everyone knows I'm totally clueless, but still feeling a bit of security in the fact that I was with family and no one was really looking at me.  Then, the dreaded walk. It's time to form a line and walk toward the priest and his helper men. So, I'm trotting along (just like my young nephew who had not completed his requirements yet - as I was told to do.)  They really should have told the kid to walk in front of me so I could have followed by example. In my head I'm saying over and over, "Keep my arms crossed, don't eat the bread. Keep my arms crossed, don't eat the bread. It will all be over soon." Well, then it is my turn and I couldn't be as lucky as to stop in front of a helper man, I got the priest. Yea, the guy who knows exactly how to spot a hoodlum. It's like God himself said, "this girl needs you, son. Help her!"  So, arms crossed. Thinking I'm just going to keep walking after he sees my arms crossed over my chest. Nope, line stops. dead. still. There we are, eye to eye. My arms crossed. Lips sealed. No way was I going to eat that bread.  I might have shown my tail the night before, but I still wanted to make it to the Pearly Gates. So, this nice man offers me the bread. I kindly refuse the best way I know how. He offers again and again I decline, shaking my head. Arms STILL crossed, dang it.   The line begins to move, but the priest still has me there trying to get me to take whatever it was he was offering. I just knew I was supposed to keep my arms crossed and that I'd go to hell if I swallowed what he was offering me. So, this rocked on a while. E & J had already started back to their seats in the bleachers. The priest is getting very annoyed at me, and before I knew it the priest says what sounded like "bite the rice" and SHOVED THAT BREAD, CRACKER, OR WHAT EVER IT WAS IN MY MOUTH! The line began to move again. I catch up with E & J. She sees that I look like I'm about to throw up.  She asks what's wrong and I can't answer because I have a mouth full of whatever was just forced into it. By this time, E realizes what has happened and why I can't talk.  We begin to giggle. J gave us that look.  She mumbles to J and tells him that I have a mouth full of "send me straight to hell."  He then said something to the effect of, "well tell her to chew it up and swallow it."

Fast forward about 30 minutes. We are all back in the van. I'm traumatized, thinking I'm never going to meet Jesus.  I also learn that E and I were giggling for two separate reasons. Sure, she thought it was hilarious that it all happened the way it did and I'm sure the look on my face was hilarity, but then she tells me why he shoved it in my mouth.  Yep, after several attempts and me refusing, the priest must have thought I was implying to that I was too impure to touch the "rice" therefore he placed it in my mouth for me. Wow. Maybe God was talking to him.  They also told me what he really said instead of "bite the rice."  I still don't understand what he said, why or why I shouldn't accept, but by golly, if I ever go back, I'll just take one for the team and "bite the rice" and ask for forgiveness later.

I sometimes wonder if being kidnapped in Atlanta wouldn't have been less traumatizing.

Heaven is the Face

Sometimes love is for a moment.
Sometimes love is for a lifetime.
Sometimes a moment is a lifetime.