Things My Daughters Have Said That Embarassed Me - Or - Morgan, You Now Have A Child, So Your Turn Is Coming

Today, while driving home from work and listening to K-Love, I heard listeners calling in with embarrassing things that children had said. It reminded me of at least a couple of incidents with my own little darlings.... 

When Paige was three, we had just moved from Columbia, Missouri to Shreveport, Louisiana. I took her and her infant sister, Morgan,  to the utilities office to get our water turned on. The office was fairly small, and we were packed like sardines in a line that snaked back and forth before reaching the counter. We were the only Caucasians in the room. As is customary in situations when complete strangers are forced to be standing in very close proximity to each other, the room was very quiet. As I held Morgan, Paige looked around the room as much as she could from her diminutive perspective. Then, in a very loud voice, she remarked - very innocently and simply as a matter of fact observation - "There sure are a lot of black people in here."  It is an understatement to say that the subsequent uproarious laughter, following the briefest of pauses, was music to my very red ears.

And then it was Morgan's turn.... She also happened to be three when her little mouth brought big embarrassment to her mom. We were waiting in line at Michael's craft store with a cartful of artsy items; I was unloading our purchases while Morgan sat in the handy child seat. Behind us in the line (what is it with my kids and LINES!?) was a rather large woman with very short hair and no makeup. My little tot looked up at her with a quizzical expression before asking her, "Are you a BOY or a GIRL?"  Fortunately, this woman was also blessed with a sense of humor and laughed, while responding, "I'm a girl, like you."  I, on the other hand, couldn't complete my transaction quickly enough.  Morgan, I can't WAIT to hear how Lilah Jean pays you back...

Back to School, Back to School....

Well, it's time to face the fact that summer is about over for Bossier Parish. We go back on Wednesday and the students arrive on Monday. I'm ready. I've had a great summer, but it's time to educate the masses on child care, personality traits, family relationships, communication, nutrition, sewing, etc.

However, as always at this time, I feel so sorry for my fur babies. They don't understand why mom has to leave them. They've been spoiled all summer and now (for most) it's back inside their kennels for a big chunk of the day. All except Dutch, who's always been a good boy and therefore has never seen the inside of a kennel. This is a good thing, because if anyone ever did decide to ignore the cacophony of howling/barking dogs and break in to our house, Dutch - in all his American Bulldog glory - would give them cause to REALLY regret that decision... Magnus would be able to stay out with Dutch if he'd only learn that some things are not to be chewed. (like bibles, pillows, daddy's shoes...) But at 1 year a Great Dane is still a puppy; hopefully he'll still learn. Even though his kennel is huge, I hate for a big boy like that to have to be enclosed. Now, the Chihuahuas and Chi-weenie I don't pity quite so much. They have a big enclosure with plenty of room, yet they still choose to curl up in one big ball of cuteness. As I sit here with four of them draped around/on me, knowing that their world is about to be rocked (not in a good way) my heart hurts for them.

Sleeping peacefully on mama...

"This is the life..."

"Never fear, guys, while you're in your kennels, I'll be protecting this joint!"

 

 

Embracing the gray...white?

I've been covering a gray/white patch on the front side of my hair for almost thirty years. The rest is coming in gray, but it's not as noticeable as my skunk patch. I can remember my mama telling me a few years back that I should just let it grow in, but I didn't want to look 'old'. At 51 now, I've come to the conclusion that I want to quit coloring my hair. When I asked Joe's opinion he quoted Frozen... "Let it go! Let it go!" :-)

the natural growth

I didn't want to go through months (years) of a 'grow out' phase, so I went to my favorite colorist and asked her to 'uncolor' my hair. She stripped the brown dye out and then bleached it. I've heard comparisons to Cruella Deville and Lily Munster :-) I've had MANY nice compliments on my hair, and my first impulse is to say, "It's real - kinda" Hahahahaha.... Every once in a while I see someone looking at it and I can just tell that they're judging my 'dye job'.
It makes me wonder if they're judging me as a person because they think I have funky hair. For just a split second I let it get to me...and then I remember that I'm a child of the King; HE made my hair like this. 

Two Years Later...

Well, nearly two years later and another post. I'm on a roll. It's summer, so time to set some goals. Today I bought four wheat bales to begin a vegetable garden. Thus far in my nearly 52 years on this earth I have had no success in growing anything but children and dogs, but I was inspired by a post on Facebook about bale gardens, so here goes.

Why Bitsy's Bubbies?

Note: I changed the title of my blog from "Bitsy's Bubbies" to "Bitsy's Babblings" in order to widen my subject area...so this original post is now somewhat obsolete.

First of all, let me state for the record that I have no earthly idea what I'm doing. My oldest daughter, Paige Potter, of Newman Potter Works fame, seems to be of the opinion that I occasionally write things that are - in her totally unbiased opinion - humorous. So she said I should start a blog. "A what?" She then explained that it's basically what I do on Facebook all the time anyway...which led me to think that maybe she was suggesting this so I wouldn't post on Fb about the dogs so much.

So here I am, prepared to post about the dogs (almost) all the time to anyone who might actually *want* to read about dogs...all the time. But I digress. And you'd better get used to that. I am, after all, 50... so that tends to happen quite often.  "Bitsy's Bubbies" comes from my name, Bitsy, which is not actually my name. My parents were much more practical than that. They named me Elizabeth Ann Coffman. However, when I was a baby (or so I've been told, as those years are a tad fuzzy at this point) I couldn't say 'Elizabeth' (really?) so I would say 'A-Bits-A-Bits' or some such nonsense. My much older siblings were amused and a lifelong nickname was born. God, in His infinite wisdom and unmatched sense of humor, then grew me to be 5'10" tall and gave me an unhealthy love of 4" heels. Get it? Bitsy? Yeah, I get that look quite often. So, the 'Bubbies' part...

My husband, Joe (I'll introduce him properly later) and I have lots of dogs. Six to be exact, although that number has fluctuated in the past due to, sadly, death (RIP Eli the rescued greyhound) or simply the fact that we have found more appropriate homes elsewhere. Case in point, Petey, a precious little brindle Chihuahua who had belonged to my ex husband and his wife until she was put on bed rest while pregnant with my daughters' sweet little half sister, Zoe. We loved Petey to pieces, but he was much more suited to being a 'one dog dog', so he went to live in upstate New York with Paige and her roommate, Joe Newman (of the aforementioned Newman Potter Works fame) and their 30 lb. cat, Rex.  I tend to call the dogs 'Bubbies' - especially when referring to them from another dog's perspective. As in, "Be sweet to your Bubbies. You already had your treat, it's Dillon's turn." Don't judge; you do it too. Bubby is simply a generic, gender unspecific term for a doggy sibling.

In future blogs I will be introducing the Bubbies, as well as the two legged people in my life. I know. You can't wait.