And You Are???

There are many things, as you can imagine, that really get "stuck in my crawl" as some would say. One of those such things is maiden names, or rather the lack thereof, on FB.

Now I'll be the first to tell you that I'm just about as traditional as traditional can be when it comes to getting married. For all legal purposes, I dropped my maiden name like a hot tamale to become Mrs. Brightwell (although I think of my MIL when Mrs. Brightwell is tossed around). But when my darling friend Amanda Smith came to me shortly after my nuptials saying, "You've got to check out this Facebook thing!" I quickly enrolled as Tiffany Brasher Brightwell.

Here's my theory:

If we were high school classmates who haven't seen each other in a month of Sundays, I don't know you by your husband's name - especially if you married some boy - Heaven forbid - from outside Morgan County. I understand that we may have originally entered into a FB friend commitment before your wedded bliss. But if you a) got married and totally removed your maiden name from your profile, b) lost 50 pounds and don't look a thing like you did in high school, or c) use only a picture of your children - I'm not judging because I've done it too - for your profile picture, chances are I don't know you from Adam's house cat!

So ladies, please do the entire world a favor and leave your maiden name on FB when you get married. I know it would make my life easier. And let's be honest, isn't that what it's really all about? Y'all have a good weekend and call your mama & 'em to check in!

Milk Cows are for Milk

Today is my darling husband's 26th birthday. We celebrated last night with dinner at Connor's Steakhouse. Thank goodness for reservations, because we were at our table in no time flat. The waiter came to take our order and I didn't even need the menu. I had been thinking about the meal all day. House salad with ranch dressing. A 6 0z. Oscar filet cooked medium. Cheese grits. Now, I'm sure I'll catch some flack from all you who believe pregnant women have to eat steak well-done. Well in my humble opinion, a well-done steak isn't fit for human consumption.

The meal arrived quickly and our dinner conversation went from the crying little girl who had to be escorted out by her several-months-pregnant mother (sounds familiar, huh) to the quality of the food. For those of you who think we must have the most interesting dinner conversations ever, I hate to burst your bubble. Let me just break it down for you:

Me: Oh dear lord this steak is fantastic (as I push the asparagus aside).

J: Mine too.

Me: I wonder where they get their steak?

J: Not Wal-Mart. Hey, do you think we should buy a cow and have it slaughtered for steaks like this?

Me: What kind of cow?

J: I dunno (with a shoulder shrug). A brown one I guess. Or maybe a milk cow.

Me: That's just dumb. Milk cows are for milk, not steak.

And that's pretty much how are date night went! By the way, the baby loved that I fed him steak for dinner and kicked happily all the way home. Maybe I can use him as my tool to get Connor's more often!

Adventures in Potty Training

Personally, I think 19 months is too young to try this whole potty training thing, but sometimes kids just get things stuck in their heads and you can't fight it. But OH how I'd love to decrease our diaper-spending...especially since diaper consumer #2 is soon on his way!

Birdie has fallen in love with sitting on the potty like a big girl. So I broke down and bought a cute little pink potty seat that fits on the big toilet seat, thus keeping little booties from having a splash landing. I must say that I am appalled by the thought of one of those seats you have to empty and clean out after each go 'round. Yuck. I'd much rather flush the thing and be done with it.

So when she gets home from "skoo" every afternoon, she runs to us and screams "I Potty I Potty I Potty" until someone takes to her sit on the throne. This is typically repeated every 15-20 minutes. I'm telling you the child is determined. Keep in mind that we're just beginning to grasp the concept of what it actually means to "I Potty" so she's usually running on empty (if you're picking up what I'm putting down). But last night was different. Last night we celebrated a small victory. On one of our many "I Potty" runs, an actual potty occurred. I was parked in my usual spot on the couch watching The Sing Off (don't you judge me, lest ye shall be judged also) and heard "TIFFANY COME HEEEERE!" from the bathroom. And pretty as you please, Birdie is perched on her pink seat grinning ear to ear saying "I Potty!" Don't worry folks. She was handsomely rewarded with leftover Halloween Smarties.

I can't believe how fast my little bird is growing up. It seems as though I just brought her home from the hospital last week...sniff sniff. But such is life! And I wouldn't trade these days for anything. In fact, I think it will only get better (at least until she turns 13)!

Oh Boy!

I thought I'd take a minute and introduce the world to our baby boy! He doesn't have a name yet since no compromise has been reached. I figure we'll have to come up with something soon since they won't let us leave the hospital with a nameless baby. I can already tell he has big feet like his daddy...that probably won't hurt when it comes to kicking a soccer ball around!

A Mommy's Resume

I was going through some files on my computer the other day and came across my professional resume. Since having a child, I've decided that I should update the section that lists my job skills. Here's what I think I should add:

• Can change a diaper at 2:04 a.m. in total darkness
• Can identify all matters of stains and suggest proper stain removal solutions (and if those don't work, throw the dern thing in the trash and go on with your life)
• Bilingual (fluent in both English and Toddler)
• Excellent multi-tasker (can feed self with right hand, child with left hand and still manage to slip food to bulldog under the table)
• Works well and remains calm under pressure (because you haven't lived until you've tried to Christmas shop with a toddler who's pitching a royal hissy fit so bad that you think she might actually throw up if she doesn't stop screaming...that pretty much sums up my last voyage to TJ Maxx)

I'd also like to add in there somewhere that I manage to clean the house enough to make sure stuff isn't growing on any surface, provide some form of dinner (and frozen fish sticks count), kiss the husband, kiss the baby, kiss the bulldog (in whatever order is necessary) all while keeping up with a career! I'm just not sure which section of a resume that goes in.

Things I Learned in the South

This one comes via an email courtesy of the Boss Man's wife. True Southerners will most likely nod their heads in agreement to each statement.

• A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.
• If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite ya.
• "Onced" and "twiced" are words.
• It's not a shopping cart. It's a buggy.
• People actually grow and eat okra.
• "Fixinto" is one word that means preparing to do something.
• There is no such thing as lunch. There is dinner, and then there's supper.
• Sweet tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two.
• "Backwards n forwards" means knowing everything about someone.
• You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or until it's too dark to see.
• You don't push buttons, you mash them.
• Distance is measured in minutes.
• You switch from heat to A/C in the same day...quite often in fact.
• All festivals are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain or animal.
• You know what a dawg is.
• You carry jumper cables in your car - for your own car.
• You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Tony's, Tabasco and ketchup.
• The local papers cover national and international news on one page but require six pages for high school sports, NASCAR and gossip (known locally as the Riverfront and Chatterbox sections).
• You think the first day of deer season is a national holiday. Wait, it isn't?
• You find 100 degrees a bit warm.
• The four seasons are almost summer, summer, still summer and Christmas.
• You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good stew weather.
• Fried catfish is the other white meat.

I hope you've enjoyed these Southernisms. I'm off now to pack for a trip to Gatlinburg for Thanksgiving...the redneck riviera of the Smokey Mountains! I hope you enjoy your turkey and sweet potato casserole this week. Kiss your babies and count your blessings!

You Know You Live in Bama When...

Okay, so I know I should be working but I just had to share this with all of y'all (yes that is proper Alabama grammar). This little feller was apparently killed today by a Decatur Parks and Rec worker while mowing the grass around the Point Mallard Golf Course. I don't know what kind of snake it is, but in my book the only good snake is a dead snake. I do, however, know the following...

You know you live in Alabama when:

a) even the guys who cut grass for a living are this good-looking

b) you wear shorts and snake boots together and nobody gives you a second glance

c) the grass isn't brown and still needs to be mowed in November

d) you hold up a hacked-apart snake on a stick for your buddies to take pictures.