New Traditions

I grew up in Arkansas. If you've ever been to The Natural State, you know that every man, woman and child is a Razorback fan. Whether or not you attended (or have ever met anyone who attended) U of A has no bearing on whether or not you can sing the fight song and call the hogs (Woooooooooooo! Pig Sooie!).

One thing that every Razorback fan knows is that you do not, under any circumstances, cheer for the Texas Longhorns (or even spit on them if they're on fire). Although the two teams no longer play in the same conference (and Texans seem to be pretty much over it), Arkansans are still very aware of a rivalry with the Longhorns that (most say) began in 1969 with The Big Shootout.

So, imagine my surprise to find myself cheering for the Longhorns last night when there was (almost) a glimmer of hope for them to come back and win the National Championship late in the fourth quarter. Not only was I cheering for the long-hated Longhorns, I was cheering against the SEC.

My journey from A (die hard Razorback who wouldn't even wear the color orange) to B (girl screaming GO! GO! GO! at the TV as Texas was headed for the end zone) began when Silas was six weeks old. There was a Longhorn game on TV that I wasn't paying any attention to until I noticed Si was glued to it (it's his thing....he watches football, I swear it on my life). It then occurred to me that it is very unlikely my son will be a Razorback fan. Certainly never the way someone who was born and raised there is. Certainly not the way I was.

Football has been one of the few things in my life that I am passionate about. Football was one of the reasons I was so stoked to have a little boy. The realization that my son was probably not going to give a flip about the team I cut my teeth on sparked the unthinkable idea that I might just have to figure out how to stop hating the Longhorns. So, I watched the Texas game with Silas and tried to give a damn about Texas winning. The most I could muster was indifference (better than, "Please, God, let them get shut out!")

As far as I knew, that was where I had left it. I wouldn't cheer against them, but I didn't care enough to cheer for them either. That was where I was until the fifth play of last nights game. And then, Colt McCoy got hurt, and my heart broke for that team. They're kids, and they have that universal love for football, and the thing they have worked so hard for has become all but impossible in the blink of an eye. So, I couldn't help but jump up and cheer when they scored the touchdown that gave the faintest glimmer of hope, and I couldn't help but be crushed when Gilbert got clobbered off his blind side and fumbled that football extinguishing that glimmer.

Texas has a way of doing that to me over and over again. Every time I let my guard down, they suck me into something else I swore to never be a part of regardless of my geographic location. This is the one area where I have managed to hold my ground.

But I give up. I admit defeat. Yeah, I said it: Hook 'em Horns!

Sassy!

I know, I suck. There has literally been a blue moon since the last time I posted anything. Surely it counts for something that I've been prioritizing my work and my family over blogging?

I'm dropping by to talk about the new lease on life that is a drastic haircut. Saturday, I took my little gift card to Toni & Guy, and I told some hair stylist I have never met before to cut 8 inches off my hair. She looked a little panic-stricken, but I assured her that I do this at least every other year. So, she chopped it off and gave me a bouncy, shiny little bob. She promised me it would be super-easy to fix in the mornings (she lied) and I flounced out of the salon feeling like a completely different person.

Cute hair always has the domino effect of making me get up and put on make up and wear high heels and color coordinate my clothing. Basically, it's the jump start to me making an effort with my appearance once I start down the path of ponytails and sweat pants.

So, let's hear it for Annie at Toni & Guy for helping me look sassy (my boss's word) again!

This too...

I must make a confession. For quite some time after giving birth to the little man, I actually felt sorry for all my still-pregnant friends who were bursting at the seems with excitement to have their babies. I was flat-out dumbfounded by women who had done it before and signed up for a second round. I just kept thinking, this is the single most exhausting thing I have ever done...the work and lack of sleep far outweigh the fun.

I also made the mistake of reading websites that said things like, "some babies don't sleep through the night until they are a year old." I can't tell you the flood of tears that provoked.

The waking in the night was one thing, but the colic was thisclose to making me hop a plane to anywhere but here.

I said all that to say this: it's temporary. He's three months old, and the bulk of the time he sleeps 6-7 hours at night. Even when he does wake in the middle of the night, I actually know him well enough to get him back to sleep within 15 minutes.

The colic went away. When he cries now, there's a reason, and as soon as I fix it, he's happy again.

So, now he's cool. He's starting to learn things, which makes the fun far outweigh the work and exhaustion.

I still don't want to sign up for round two, but I do feel the need to spread hope to people who are still in or have just ahead of them the not-so-fun stages of a new baby.

This too shall pass.

Give thanks

My best friend did this on her blog, and I loved it, so I'm stealing it. Things I'm thankful for besides family, friends, house, car, etc.

1. When I leave the house late but the traffic gods are smiling on me, and I make it to work on time anyway

2. When I don't have time to eat breakfast and someone brings in food to work

3. Dresses. Dresses are so good for my body type

4. When there is a sale and there is actually stuff in my size

5. Cable at 3 am

6. Close parking spaces at Wal-Mart and the mall. Bonus thanks if it's a holiday or I am pregnant.

7. When it's girls' night and there's great music playing at the bar

8. When people buy me diapers or formula

9. Supernanny

10. Internet on my phone

11. Funny people. They make life so much better

12. On that note, every joke Katt Williams has ever written

13. Everytime I make it to work and back to my side of town with my low fuel light on (gas is cheaper over here, and I almost always am running late)

14. When people tell me my writing is good

15. When I get in the habit of going to the gym

16. When I get a pedicure and remembered to shave my legs that day

17. When my mom and I go to lunch and she orders dessert for us to split

18. When I have no idea what to do and Michael calls his mom and she knows exactly what to do

19. When people invite me for dinner on nights when I don't want to cook

20. All the superstitious people who show up and do superstitious things every Sunday for the Cowboys games!

Shenanigans

Last night I drank a beer out of a plastic skull mug and danced to Randi singing karaoke and threw up on my dog. It's been a very long time since I acted like a 21 year old kid because I fully believe in sucking it up and staying home once you have kids of your own (and I was pregnant for a million months before that). However, my husband fully believes that if you completely give up who you were before you had kids you'll go nuts. So, he encouraged me to let loose, and he took care of our son all night long so that I could stain the patio red with vomit. I have no regrets.

Blimps abound

While I was trying to coax Silas to sleep at two this morning, I was watching Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders 4. It's a show about the selection process (boot camp) of the Cowboys cheerleaders.

All the women are beautiful and not just thin but truly physically fit.

After one of the practices, the coaches (are they coaches? Judgmental demon women?) called back one of the girls for a bit of criticism. Most of the criticism is in reference to the girls' dance technique. However, this particular girl (blond hair and six pack abs with no cellulite in sight) was informed that if she wasn't careful, she might look "chunky" because she weighs 123, and the other girls weigh 112.

It put my friend's comment in perspective. I guess if the 123 lb girl who has given up pizza and chocolate didn't leave and slit her wrists after being called chunky, I should suck it up and get on a treadmill.

The Goodyear Blimp

Remember a few weeks ago when I was all full of confidence and self esteem? I believe I described myself as feeling "gorgeous."

This afternoon, a friend was trying to convey how fat this girl she had encountered was, and described her thusly: "She was big. I mean, she was bigger than YOU."

My God, I thought, call Goodyear. One of their blimps MUST be missing if there is a body out there floating around that's bigger than me.

Apparently my "you just had a baby" pass is up, and I better keep driving the next time I pass a Chick-fil-a.