Season Opener...

Saturday was eventful to say the least.  Where to even start?

My dear, sweet, husband had worked his hardest to secure a place for us to stay as a family after the ballgame.  On our way into town, we decided to find it and check it out. Well, let's just say that after seeing it, I was extremely skeptical, and that's an understatement.  I think what I actually said was, "I hope nobody's cooking crystal meth next door."  Seriously.  Not exaggerating.  Not even a little. 

However...maintaining Anthony's gameday mentality is a must.  It's what he lives for, and I didn't want to ruin the day.  I can deal with just about anything for one night, right? It's okay if there are stray animals on a gravel road with dirty diapers in the driveway--I can deal.  I just kept telling myself that.    

Moving on.  Sam's performance was pretty darn good.  Except for the fact that we've been working on potty-training, and he chose Saturday to have stomach issues.  TMI.  I know.  He really was great.  He loves a cowbell, and he loves Bully, so Saturday was a great day for him.  He ate an inordinate amount of sweets, but that's no real surprise. 

Anthony went into the game and left the 2 of us at our tailgate to watch the game there.  I got to see us come out of the tunnel, and then....kids throwing a football knocked over the satellite.  I didn't get to see the game at all.  Ask me how unhappy I was.  Just ask me. 

I'll tell you.  I was furious.  We had warned them multiple times to watch out, but they didn't seem to care.  And they were old enough to know better.  I was bitter to say the least.

Anthony came out at the half to get some tylenol for a headache, and we decided that we would leave a check for the people whose house we rented, mess up the sheets, and head home after the game.  Thank. The. Lord. 

It was a long day with some complications, but Sam was great, the Dawgs played well, and I didn't have to stay in a crack-house.  Pretty good day. 

Gameday Eve Schedule...

1.  Arrive at practice facility in my shiny ride.  Check out my rims--8 1/2 inches. 

2.  Sign some autographs.  Go over my playbook one last time with the coaches.  Looks like I need to be on my best behavior tomorrow.  I don't want any penalty flags thrown, and I certainly don't want to burn all of my timeouts. 

3.  Pre-game meal.  Nothing gets me ready for gameday like PB&J with juice. 

4.  Watch some game film. 

5.  Take one last nap---with my pom pom. (and my books, xylophone, blocks, and George sheets.) 

We're ready.

Can I Get An Amen...

I'm pretty sure I complain about this every year.  Does anybody else have the trouble that I do finding something appropriate to wear to the first football game of the year?  It is such a pain, and it stresses me out every time.

For those of you who live in cool weather climates, this isn't a problem.  For the residents of the Dirty South, it's a massive issue.  I don't know about you, but I hate buying super summery stuff this late in the fall, especially when Labor Day is this weekend.  On top of that, all stores are pushing their fall/winter merchandise, which I won't be able to wear until at least October because of the heat. 

My criteria for football wear:

1.  In the heat I prefer a dress--nothing binding, lots of breathing room.

2.  Something that doesn't require "special" undergarments.  Who wants to deal with that all day?

3.  An outfit that isn't too short, but not too long.  I'm not that tall.

4.  Something that I can wear with fairly comfortable shoes, but I'm willing to sacrifice some comfort for  some cuteness.

5.  And the kicker for this week--they've asked MSU fans to wear white.  Since I'm chasing Sam at the tailgate, I can't even go into the game, but I'd like to at least try to be in the spirit.  I'm hoping cream will count, because it's all I've got.

Next week they're asking for people to wear maroon, which is a whole 'nother bag of tricks.  I wish other schools knew how good they have it when trying to buy something cute in their respective colors. 

Blue? Easy.  Red? Beyond easy.  Purple? Not quite as easy, but doable.

Maroon?  Wow.  Just wow.  I usually end up in something magenta and call it a day.

If anyone out there has some secret football-wear store, fess up.  And don't tell me to wear a jersey with jeans.  Homegirl doesn't do that. 

Hail State!

Ain't Life Grand...

A few weeks ago, we packed up and headed down for our annual trip to the Grand Hotel.  We've gone the past 3 years, and we love it.  When I'm down there, I sometimes feel like I'm on a second honeymoon--except that I'm with a 2-year-old.  My fabulous in-laws were gracious enough to take us down, babysit a lot, and foot the bill.  We booked a ton of pool time and quite a bit of lying around time.  I even got a massage courtesy of the husband.  Lazy days = happy mom.    

We fed the ducks...

 

...and fed them some more...

...and a little bit more just to make sure they were full. 

Like his Elvis face?  This was before he broke his grandparents' camera.  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Family pic.  Excuse my frizziness.  It was humid. 

One more

Now you know where Sam's curls came from.

2009

2010

Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the candlestick...

I've mentioned before that I'm a part of a bookclub.  I was invited by a friend a couple of years ago, and through this group I've made some amazing friends.  I cannot express how lucky I am to call all of them my friends.  We get together once a month, gossip, imbibe, and discuss the pick of the month.  Good times. 

A few months ago, one of our number mentioned that she had hosted a Murder Mystery Party for some friends, and that it was a lot of fun.  It didn't take long for us to decide that we had to have one ourselves, and that it was a mandatory event for all spouses. 

It wasn't fun.  It was epic--one of the most fun nights I've had in a while, and Anthony enjoyed himself, too.  (So much so that he stayed in bed much longer than I did the next day.) I wish I could give a play-by-play of the night, but I would probably get a lot of people in trouble.  Let's just say there were some people not exactly on their best behavior.

We chose the Jersey/Mafia Wedding kit.  There were gold chains, fedoras, fake earrings, bridesmaids' dresses, terrible suits, and a lot of "bumpits" going on that night.  We even had a wedding cake.  Everyone had his or her own character and script to follow.  It was ridiculously fun.  Again, I would post more pictures, but I value my friends, and I need to protect the innocent.

 

I feel like this pic is safe enough.  From left to right:

Stacy Sultry, Grandma Selma, Gina Giovanni, and Darlene Simpson.  Yes, I'm wearing black gloves. 

It's Dangerous Being a State Fan...

Remember my son's obsession with cowbells? (See below.)

I always knew that they should probably be classified as weapons.  I fervently believe that they can do just as much damage as nunchucks. We have several bells in our arsenal, and one of them is an actual bell from a cow--that's a story for another day.  Anyway, it's heavy.  A couple of weeks ago, Sam got it down from its spot on the bookshelf and promptly dropped it on his toe.  Cringe.  The toe turned black within an hour or so, and we had the pleasure of heading to the pediatrician's.  Our doc informed me that he could relieve the toe pain by making a small hole in Sam's toenail.  Double-cringe.   I was the lucky lady who got to hold down my child during the process, which actually wasn't that bad.  They used a small cauterization tool, and I'm told it doesn't hurt.  Let's hope so.

Bottom line--watch out for those cowbells.  You can lose a toe.

Communal Cowbell

As many of you know, my husband is a long-suffering, extremely passionate MSU fan.  Some people hunt, some people play music, Anthony follows all things in Maroon and White.  I like to read; Anthony likes to tailgate.  We've followed our dawgs to a College World Series, a Cotton Bowl, and almost every venue in the SEC, among other things.  I've watched him have the time of his life when we win, and I've watched him throw--and break I might add--a cell phone out the window when we lose.  (Which, let's face it...the past few years we've lost a lot.)  This passion could affect Sam in one of two ways:

1.  He'll be just like his father.
2.  He'll resent it and attend school somewhere else out of pure spite.

We attend an Episcopal church.  Before communion, they chime a bell at certain periods when presenting the Eucharist.  When they chimed the bell this past Sunday, Sam very loudly said, "I hear a cowbell."

I'm going with option one.