Steel Magnolias 2: The Real Housewives of Chinqapin Parish

Do y'all remember when Truvy said "there's no such thang as natural beauty"? Little did we know that in 1987, Dolly was setting us up for a good twenty years of women stuffing junk in their trunks, Jell-O in their hell-OO's, and bionic Tupperware into their kiss holes. I wish Dolly would've kept her mouth shut.

Just look at the men in that movie! You had Tom Skerritt and  Sam Shepard as the patriarchs of their families. Do you think for a minute Drum Eatonton or Spud Jones would'a had anything tucked, besides their boots in their britches legs? Now, Jackson Latcherie? There's a good chance he might've headed down the plastic highway in the future, and I think that's why M'Lynn didn't like him:  she knew he was a skinny jean wearin' girlie man on the inside.

Yo Shawdy, It's My Birfday...

What does every Mom look forward to on their birthday? Spending time with the family, taking a bubble bath sans the world heavyweight title holder, and eating cake. Today? Check, no check, and oh yeah....check.

I'm in job-induced, single parent mode this week. No, I'm not really a single parent, but I'm the only one around with beating privileges, and the iPad can't call 911 should the short stacks seize control. I'm hoping this explains my daughter's message to me for my birthday:

"Mom, you're the best mom I ever had. You're just so nice and you let me eat cake for breakfast, and your big, squishy belly makes me want to snuggle. But I wish dad was here and you could go away for work sometimes. I really love him a lot, and sometimes he's my favorite."  Thank you, my dear. However will I fit my big head through the door come morning?

Then there was my greeting from Morgan Freeman.

"Hello there, I'm Morgan Freeman, and it's your birthday. You should party like it's your birthday, watching evil farty like it's your birthday, and you know I don't know the words because I'm Morgan Freeman, you're just some old white lady that fixes me cereal."

I didn't--and still don't-- know how to respond to that, so...there. I was hoping I'd get an encore of the performance of "Shawdy got them Morgan Freeman jeans..." from last night, but no such luck.

Then there was Larry King. "Happy birthday, Mom. Can you fix supper now? I want tacos."  Yes, because I definitely want to be sharing a bed with a bunch of taco-stuffed wind bags tonight. I suppose it would make me feel less lonely. Sorry, but if I want a shot in Hades of making it till 35 and a day, I ain't loading this bunch up with Mexican again. I thought dear 'ol Morgan was gonna blow the freckles off his shmeckle after El Mocha Jeters Friday.

We had to do our obligatory milk-and-bread run earlier, so we stopped by Aldi. I know, I know...they sell horse meat lasagna. But it's really cheap!!! And it smells better than Wal-Sharts produce department. So I get the kids bundled up and herd them to the truck like a six-pack of ADHD kittens.

"Hey, I'm in the front, butt hole!"

"NO! You were in the front yesterday, baby rump sniffer!"

"MOM!"

"MAMA!"

"Hey! Why don't I get to talk?"

"Alright, alright! Larry, you're in the back this time. Morgan, you're riding shotgun."

I swear Bubby transformed into a 90-year old white man before my eyes, peering over his invisible glasses as he mumbled "It's cuz he's black, ain't it?"

All I could think to say was "Well, Larry, I ain't ever seen you up front with Miss Daisy."

Apparently, it's supposed to be colder than a gravediggers butt in Fargo over the next couple of days, but no precipitation yet. I even did the good mom thing and sprayed our back patio down with water to try to make a miniature 911 magnet, I mean, skating ring, but we haven't had so much as vulture spit so far.

I just want them to call school off...before bedtime. I want to delay that sorry-I'm-late-but-my-mom-overslept excuse for one more day. Not to mention, I think it'd be really fun to play with the boys new paintball/dart guns in ice and snow.

So, today has actually been really fun. I crunk up the fire place, put on my fuzzy pj britches, burned a hole in said pj britches, and have repeatedly questioned why I haven't taken my vacuum cleaner to audition for the lead in a Lifetime movie. It really sucks, and apparently that's the only requirement.

I took them out in public....again.

Never thought we'd go to Wal-Mart, did ya? Friday, I took the kids to get some food because we were gonna go crazy in the house.We haven't been out too much lately, and while cozy, I break down and

give in to the crazies. I figured I'd take them out in public for their teachers' sakes...just to help them,
you know, smooth down the weird edges. I could've stayed at home where it was warm, but I picked
up, and braved going out while outnumbered 3-to-1.

Never in my life have I laughed as hard as I did on our little lunch and shopping outing! "Y'all, we are 

gonna get kicked out of this restaurant if y'all don't calm down!" Rae-Rae's decides he's gonna 

let his name be Morgan Freeman. Believe it or not, this is a normal part of our day. If you're there,

you are laughing your butt off right along with us! We went to this Mexican restaurant, 'El Molcajete.' It's down the street from our house, and their food is cheap and good. The kids love the cheese dip, and I 

never turn away from a place that the kids can actually agree on. They seat us, and we decide we're 

gonna do our own orders. (Meaning, I don't order for the kids...they do it.) So I glance down and  

run my finger down the menu, and decided on what I want, when Rae-Rae speaks up to the waitress.

"Around here, my name's Morgan Freeman. I'd like some chicken fangers with barbecue sauce, fries, 

and a Co-Cola. And, pardon me for asking, but what does 'El Mocha Jeters' mean? Is if french? You have

dessert here? I like them cinnamon thangs at Taco Bell. Do you like Taco Bell? You're Mexican, aren't

 you? My mom looks Mexican sometimes, but she's not. She's just from Georgia."

Never again, I thought to myself. Bubby decides that if Rae-Rae is Morgan Freeman, then he's just

gonna be Larry King. (I know, what the heck?! It goes back to an old dance move he used to do that would make Larry King dance like Steve Urkel. I can't explain it...we're just freakin' weird.)  But anyway...

You wouldn't believe the chips and cheese they put away, and this is not including making Rae-Rae

cry about the cheese he dripped down his shirt. But they all ate a good lunch, and we, of course, could

never go to town with going to Wally-World. In my New Years effort to become more organized, we were gonna go get some crates to help the kids keep the stuff they play with most, cleaned up. We get there; I say we won't there but a minute, but that means an easy hour and a half until we tell all these Walmartians goodbye. We're strolling through the storage stuff, and the crates are nowhere to be found. Now I'd have never imagined that storage stuff wouldn't be in the storage department. Please tell me that I am not 

gonna have to ask. Why wouldn't the crates be in the storage department? Guess that's why I don't

tell Wal-Mart how to organize stuff. We finally find them, and we wind up folding up Miss Nacho Diva,

a farting, giggling bundle of Mexican aftermath by this time, into two of them inside the buggy.I won't lie...she's dropping chimichanga bombs at every corner. We're heading through books when Bubby
and Rae-Rae see Nelson Mandela on a magazine cover. "Hello, I am Morgan Freeman, and it should

hurt my feelings that they keep calling me Nelson. I'm pretty famous. Today I am with Larry King, and...

you have GOT to stop, Emma! They're gonna call me Morgan Stinky Cheeseman."

******To Be Continued******

Sunday (1/5) is my birthday, and I'm thankful that I'm not celebrating like last year:  with the flu, double pneumonia, and a double ear-infection. I'll take freezing my butt off at home any day of the week. Since it's my birthday, I'd like to let you know that I just gave you a little birthday surprise. 

#rickroll