My nerd factor just went up.

The time had come for me to get a new phone.

When I say "it was time," I mean "IT WAS TIME."

Let's just say that this guy asked to borrow my phone day before yesterday and he was mortified. Here he is mocking me and my phone.

Then, Beau came home with this:

I've had to recall lots of my previous comments about his use of his phone.

I now feel like my life is complete.

This was the text I sent my precious Beau at midnight from upstairs (he was downstairs):

"I love you, but have officially found a new love ... Mr. iPhone."

That night I searched for apps and arranged my contacts and settings for only about 3 hours.

Whatever.

My brain hurts.

Getting ready to take about 60 ladies on an overnight Baton Rouge trip this morning.

Editing and publishing a cookbook to be ready to sell the first week of November.

Writing a Christmas production that has gone from some dialogue and a few songs to Radio City Music Hall's Christmas Spectacular (without the Rockettes ... unless something changes between now and our next meeting).

Getting my oldest child to manage to get her homework that she's spent 2 hours on from the dining room table to her backpack to school and to the teacher's desk.

Getting my youngest child adjusted to a new soccer team with her coach named, "Bubba."

'80s Christmas party for 200 ladies ... like, totally, jazzed ... yet wishing to be gagged with a spoon at the thought of me in leggings.

As far as Beau goes ... he's doing alright, even after my Glenn Beck post.

I've never been one to pull any punches.

The year: 1982.

I was 11 and in the 6th grade.

This was where my first real "relationship" occurred.

It happened so simply. A note was passed:

"Do you like me? Circle YES or NO."

That was it. I officially had a "boyfriend."

His name was Tracy and he was the mayor's son (the mayor of a town with the population of about 85 ... OK, maybe a few more ... 105).

Going "steady" was equivalent to hanging out on the playground and the occasional phone call.

We had talked on the phone a few times about what records we had and if I would be going to the local fais-do-do (Cajun dance) held in the parking lot of the Catholic church in town (the only church) and what we liked to eat at the drive-in across from his house.

We were in middle school band, which included the only instrument of the recorder. You can imagine how fascinating that concert was.

But, he was already a musician ... well, a drummer. Does that count? (that was a joke)

I still remember the day of the school talent show where he played with one other classmate ... a guitar and drum version of Credence Clearwater Revival's, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?". That was interesting. The guitar player got frustrated with all his mistakes and actually stopped playing. Tracy got mad and told him to keep going. I think there was actual crying that followed.

Tracy was the first boy to give me a gift. It was Christmas and he handed me a small wrapped box. It was a gold heart locket necklace. I, of course, told him I couldn't accept it (I was classy even back then). It was too much. But, kept it anyway.

I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen ... something like this.

I treasured it ...

UNTIL,

that nice boy, Tracy, turned on me.

He had the audacity to break up with me not long after that necklace had been given. It may have even been in the same week.

He approached me on the playground.

He asked if he could have the locket back.

I asked why.

His answer would astound me.

He said it was to give to some other girl in the class who I don't remember the name of.

I, without skipping a beat, said, "You want your necklace back?"

Then, I ripped the necklace from my neck, breaking it, and with it in hand, said, "Here's your necklace." And, then threw it at him, turned my back and walked away.

I think he did end up giving it to that girl, and they may have "gone steady" for a few weeks before that was over.

This is where it all started.

From then on, most of my break-ups looked like this (Warning: "the "A**" word is used in the proper context, referring to a donkey, but it is still said.") :

So, I must take this time to say I'm sorry to a few ... Sorry for ...

throwing any of the gifts you had given me in your face,

throwing those punches that one time,

kicking that door in,

cutting your face out of all pictures and then burning them,

and the, oh so cliche', drink in the face.

(Don't worry. These experiences were before Beau ... actually before Christ.)

I have grown up ... somewhat.

My husband approves.

"Of what?" You ask.

My wee crush.

What?!?

"How dare you say such a thing, Mama Belle? Beau is the best husband you could ever ask for."

Yes, I know. Don't get all up in arms about this.

Let's not call it a "crush" per say. Let's call it a feeling of respect and admiration toward someone. How's that? Better?

Don't worry. Beau has nothing to worry about because this guy is no Gerard Butler (shhh ... he's a cutie) ... not that Gerard Butler could ever win my heart over my Beau ... He couldn't. This guy is not all that attractive, but looks are overrated. I mean, if someone is attractive, but an idiot, what's the good in that?

This guy is over 40 and only talks politics.

Now, for those of you who have been here a while, you know my previous crush, who I'm not quite over yet. He's a dreamy one as well. You remember, don't you?

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Ah ... Stephen, Republican or not, you slay me. I know ... I'm weird.

Going on ...

This guy is a little more serious and I agree with most everything he says.

I bought Beau his book, "An Inconvenient Book," and have been known to skim through it myself. What a great book! Buy it if you are interested in politics with a little humor.

When I read about his recent views on the budget, environmentalism, how he's turned his life around after alcoholism,  and his frank commentary on the dangers of porn, I was quite impressed. 

Yes, he has been known to have a little temper, but so does anyone who's passionate about anything. Glenn Beck, you rock! Keep up the good work.

Beau, you're actually my biggest crush, you amazing man, you! And, I'll let the little crush you have on Megan Kelley slide.

Too much of a good thing.

When the directions on the Tylenol PM bottle say to take 2 tablets before bedtime, don't assume that 3 will fight off your splitting headache any sooner and give you a better night's sleep.

I am an avid over-doser when it comes to Tylenol, Advil, Aleve, and the like. Don't worry. My mom's a nurse and she tells me how much I can really take without going into a self-induced coma.

I tend to be very drug-tolerant, as in, nothing takes my pain away or it takes a whole lot of something to affect me. Let's just say that that 6-hour epidural during my 22-hour labor gave me the same affect of 3 baby aspirin. Ah ... wait ... maybe those days of sneaking baby aspirin out of the medicine cabinet when I was 7-years-old really affected me. I popped those pink smartie-like tablets like candy.

But, 3 Tylenol PMs did me in ... not last night, but this morning.

Imagine my surprise when I looked in the mirror and saw this:

OK ... maybe it wasn't that bad, but pretty close.

I had to drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn to get the girls ready for school. That part of the morning was kind of a daze for me. The medicine was in full "PM" mode, reminiscent of those before-Christ college days. I don't miss that a bit.

After Beau toted the girls to school, I headed back to bed, with the same headache I had when I went to bed over 8 hours ago. People, I slept for 2 more hours. Still groggy, I forced myself out of the bed at 10:00. Yes, 10:00. That's a record in this house.

Yet, still light-headed, with the same headache, I faced my day.

I had cereal and a few hours later headed back to bed.

I dozed for another hour or so.

Needless to say, it was an unproductive day:

The vehicle that I meant to clean out still has Cheetos and sunflower seeds in the carpet.

The laundry is still dirty.

The 3-mile run didn't happen.

I burnt my Holy Trinity for my red beans and rice, thus causing me to start all over again.

My bedroom still needs to be dusted.

Those darned rose bushes still need to be pruned or trimmed or whatever you call it. If it were up to me, I'd cut those suckers down with my hedge-trimmers. Oh, wait, I tried that. They just won't die.

Here's my word to the wise for today:

Taking 3 Tylenol PMs when the directions call for 2 = foolishness.

However, doubling the butter, sugar, and whiskey contents for Beau's bread pudding = mucho wisdom.

I can't imagine.

My friend, Rachel, has made us all aware of the Maxey family. This family has already lost one little girl, Maddie (14 months), to a rare form of cancer and have been treating their second daughter, Annette, for the exact same type of cancer.

I can't imagine losing a child.

I can't imagine, after losing a child, having another child diagnosed with the same disease that killed my first child.

The parents, Natalie and Kirk, have decided that they will bring Annette home so that she can be more comfortable. She has lost her vision and has suffered brain damage from her treatments. This is their statement from their blog:

"We’ve decided not to give her any more chemo or to pursue any more treatments for the necrosis. I say “we’ve decided” like there was really any decision to make. At this point chemo is only going to make her feel bad, and, honestly, we feel like we’ve done enough. For now, we’ll focus our efforts on getting her comfortable at home. If all goes as planned, that will happen Tuesday or so."

Our hearts are all broken for them and their son, Grant.

Rachel is asking 2 things. This is from her blog:

1) if you haven't written a letter to them, please consider doing so. I know it seems like a daunting task - what in the world do you say to a family going through this? The original purpose of this project was to write out prayers, encouraging notes, Scriptures, etc. You can find all the details at the special site we set up for them, Hope for the Maxeys (www.hopeforthemaxeys.blogspot.com). It doesn't have to be deep or long or eloquent. This is just members of the body of Christ reaching out to our brother & sister.

2) I know many of you have already posted the buttons in your sidebar. I am now asking if you would blog about this family as they make this incredibly difficult decision regarding their precious daughter. Most of you have readers that I don't have and could never contact, and I need your help and your "network" to reach other prayer warriors in the body of Christ.

Rachel will be printing and delivering these letters next week. So, if you haven't already written, please do.

This I know is true: God is good and there is nothing that is impossible for Him. His ways are higher than ours.

Please pray.

We all need to go and hold our children a little longer and a little tighter today. Thank you, God, for the life and health of our children.

Yes, I have a death wish.

As recently stated, I am starting P90X in a week in a half.

So, that I can go from this:

To this:

Did I mention this transformation is supposed to happen in 90 days?

Yeah ... we'll see about that.

Then, to punish myself even more, I'm thinking about running this half-marathon with that crazy girl, Lois Lane, in February in New Orleans.

I can think of a million reasons NOT to run this marathon, but not very many FOR running the marathon.

The main reason NOT to run it is because, at the present time, I can only run 3 miles and then I'm done. The thought of going any further is beyond my comprehension.

Other reasons for NOT include:

* Not enough time to train

* Will already be doing another workout program

* Not fond of enduring extra pain

* It's hot as the dickens down here.

* The inability to breathe

* The feeling that my heart may possibly pop out of my chest

* The aching legs

* The fact that it will be cold in February ... again breathing problem

* My knee that I'm not supposed to be running on  ... with the whole "deteriorating knee cap," "torn meniscus," "loose gristle," "arthritis," etc., etc., etc., blah, blah, blah. Whatever.

Reasons TO run:

* The challenge & sense of accomplishment

* Better health and physical fitness

Um ... that's about it on that one.

So, usually when the cons outweigh the pros, you shouldn't do it, right?

Oh, just tell me what I want to hear, people. And, if you want to join in my torture, February in New Orleans, email me or let me know in your comment.

(Lois, you don't count. You know I'll probably do it anyway.)

And, for those of you concerned about my mouth ulcer ...

Prepare yourself.

Here I am thinking about whether or not I should show you this thing.

What the heck ... this picture does not do it justice. It was way grosser.

Turns out it's not an ulcer, but some type of enlarged saliva gland ... looks like a blister, filled with fluid that needs to be drained or popped. Disgusting.

Guess who's on pins and needles (pun intended), ready to practice his novice medical skills?

Scary.

Reasons Why I Have a Mouth Ulcer the Size of Texas

Trying to type in and format over 350 recipes for a church cookbook in 2 weeks

Waking up early again because of school starting and feeling guilty because I'm not waking up even earlier to exercise ... 5:00 a.m. ... here I come

Planning to head up a girls' trip in 2 weeks that includes 60 "girls" and keeping them all happy

Keeping up with my girls' new schoolwork and activities

Trying to write a Christmas script by next Tuesday when I don't really even know what the script is about

Possibility of huge financial opportunity that Beau and I are waiting on (praying for favor)

Living with one car with girls back in school (why the "huge financial opportunity" would help)

Knowing New York trip is only about 3 1/2 months away and I haven't planned very much or saved up much money to spend (see aforementioned "huge financial opportunity")

Going back and forth to the eye doctor to try out new contacts that are strong enough and fit for my eyes (or should I say "eye" ... the left one, to be specific)

Planning Christmas party for 200-something ladies, magazine, huge spring conference with Nicole Johnson, summer mission trip to El Salvador ... then starting the whole process over again

Needing way more sleep

But, you know what makes me feel a little more happy inside ... knowing that I will not have to watch Beau's choice of Fox News all night, every night, because soon it will be back.

Watch Dwight Schrute's Continuity of Government in Funny Videos  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Dwight, how I miss you!

Honestly, I'm not as smart as I seem.

So, yesterday, I'm reading.

If you've been here long enough, you know what an infatuation I have with David. OK ... wait that didn't sound right.

Rephrase.

You know what an infatuation I have with the relationship David had with God.

So passionate. So real.

I can't seem to tear myself away from, not only David's life, but the life of his son, Solomon.

(Actually, I just finished a Bible study covering "Song of Solomon," but that's definitely a whole other post that will probably never get written. It might be inappropriate. Just go read the book. Enough said.)

I was reading I Kings 9 yesterday and came across this verse, best interpreted by The Message:

(God talking to Solomon here) "As for you, if you live in my presence as your father David lived, pure in heart and action, living the life I've set out for you, attentively obedient to my guidance and judgments, then I'll back your kingly rule over Israel, make it a sure thing on a solid foundation. The same guarantee I gave David your father I'm giving you: 'You can count on always having a descendant on Israel's throne.'"

Cool, huh?

God's love for David transcended his own lifetime. Just because Solomon was related to David, he's going to get the blessing.

Here's the thing ... it wasn't a surprise to God that Solomon was going to choose to disobey His rules about not worshiping other gods, keeping people around that he was supposed to destroy,  and so on. God knew that was gong to happen, yet throughout this chapter, God continues to bless him.

It's what I tell my girls all the time: Obedience = Blessings. It's so black and white. Disobedience = Non-Blessings or Consequences.

Even knowing this, we STILL choose disobedience so many times.

And, then, when we humble ourselves before God, His grace covers all and He blesses us even when we don't deserve it. 'Cause really we never deserve it.

Then I read this from "The Quotable Lewis":

(See if you can wrap your brain around it.)

"God is outside and above the Time-Line. In that case, what we call "tomorrow" is visible to Him in just the same way as what we call "today."

(OK, I got that part ... today and tomorrow are the same thing for God.)

"All the days are "now" for Him. He does not remember you doing things yesterday; He simply sees you doing because, though you have lost yesterday, He has not."

(Uh ... everything's now for God. Yesterday is over for us, but not for Him. That's kinda scary.)

"He does not "forsee" you doing things tomorrow; He simply sees you doing them: because, though tomorrow is not yet here for you, it is for Him."

(The future is already now for God.)

"You must never suppose that your actions this moment are any less free because God know what you are doing."

(Duh.)

My brain hurts a little.

What I got from all that is our actions are part of who we are and how God sees us ... yesterday, today, tomorrow ... doesn't matter. 

But, it's not only our actions, it's the motives therein.

God looks at me and sees my entire life, not this sin or that one, or that one time I wasn't selfish or the time I truly worshiped Him the way He desires. 

He sees it all at one time. 

Wow. Too much for this little 'ol mind to comprehend.

I could actually be totally off the mark here. Told you I wasn't that smart.

But, I am becoming an expert in non-invasive plastic surgery options. I'll save that for another post too.

Bon Appetit

I saw "Julie & Julia" this weekend. Loved it! This movie really inspired me.

I have been a lazy cook and been doing the bare minimum to get by and just get my family fed.

I come from a long line of fancy-schmancy cooks. My mother ... her mother ... and her mother before that, all come from the school of strictly home-made dishes.

They make their pie crust from scratch ... ALWAYS. I made a pie once and used a Pillsbury pie crust and my mother was appalled. Shame, shame. 

You know about my fear of biscuit cans, which I have explained in an earlier post. That was the one and only time I ever remember popping a biscuit can. My mother makes all her biscuits from scratch. Canned biscuits are so low-class ... hence the reason I love them.

My mother also makes trips to Ponchatoula, LA to get fresh strawberries(the best in the world) every season to make strawberry preserves. I just buy Smucker's.

My dad also gets cases of yams (or sweet potatoes, as some may call them) from Opelousas, LA. If my mom makes any dish with sweet potatoes, you can bet they will be fresh, never canned.

She makes homemade ice cream, while I am just as happy with a tub of Blue Bell. And, she does amazing things with chocolate and cakes.

She talks about her bouquet garni and uses cheesecloth. I wouldn't even know where to buy cheesecloth or assemble the other.

No, I'm not going to go through Julia's cookbook, but I've decided to go through my own. I have dozens of delicious recipes that I don't make very often. Not only am I making five of them this week, but am also going to start taking pictures of them for posterity, hoping my girls will appreciate the collection one day.

Beau just thinks I'm up to one of my normal schemes and just sighs. He's used to all my hair-brained ideas. But, he will benefit from this one for sure.

So, I'm off to cook a roast and carrots l'orange. I think I'll make a pie too ... a no-bake pie. Hey, I can't do everything at one time. Baby steps, baby steps.

I'll keep you posted ... ha ... POSTED ... get it? Now, I see where La Petite Belle gets her humor from. 

Happy Monday!

Everyone's a comedian.

But, not me.

Seriously.

I cannot tell a joke. 

I get confused. I get punch-line anxiety and then mess up the joke.

My humor comes from my quick comebacks (look who I live with) and sarcasm, not from jokes.

Beau is the same way, except he's way more silly than me, which means the girls think he's hilarious.

K Belle and La Petite Belle are each coming into their own brand of humor.

K Belle ... dry humor, which is quite funny. But, I often have to remind her not to say anything that might hurt someone's feelings.

Here's what she said last night at the dinner table:

"Mommy, I was watching TV today, and I think you need to get on Nutri-System." 

Uh ... what? This was not really a joke, but displays her lack of understanding what is and is not appropriate to say.

After Beau told her that that was not a nice thing to say and that she basically just called her mother "fat," she almost cried.

She says she said that because I am always exercising and trying to lose weight and Nutri-System has a lot of food you can eat. 

I believe her. Thanks for looking out for Mom, I guess.

La Petite Belle ... joke-teller ... um ... non-funny joke-teller. I try to encourage her to only tell jokes that she's heard that make sense, but I guess making them up is much more fun. Seriously. None of her jokes make sense. And she laughs hysterically and tries to explain why it's funny, which it's not.

Case in point ... her joke last night:

"Mommy and Daddy, I have a joke for you." (Beau and I wince a little and reluctantly ask her to tell us.) 

"OK. There's this town that's on fire. And, there's this piece of toast ... No ... wait ... Let me start over. OK, there's this town on fire. And, there's this steak. This steak says, 'I'm toast.' And the toast pops up and says, 'No, you're not. I am' "(Then she makes that drum sound heard after jokes - bucket of fishhhh)

I laugh. Beau doesn't.

Then, K Belle starting to explain how the joke makes no sense because toast doesn't talk and asks her why the town is on fire. She can be a dream killer.

Busy weekend ahead. I will try to keep my sarcasm to a bare minimum. (wink)

You're so vain. You prob'ly think this post it about you.

Not you. Me.

Me.

I'm the vain one. I just thought that was a catchy title.

I truly am vain.

You see, I can't see. Literally. Can't see.

As in, I need glasses or contacts. When I say "need," I mean I see nothing but blurred, freakish faces without my glasses or contacts. But, my contacts, which have to be specially made (told you), are giving me problems, making me resort to wearing the 'ol glasses.

I hate wearing glasses. Hate. it.

I feel like I don't look good in them. I'm not saying that to get you to say that I do. Just hear me out.

There are people that look good in glasses. In fact, some I would say might even look weird without their glasses on and I love the way they look with glasses.

For example:

Classic

Funny lady

And, my favorite ...

These women look great in glasses. Not just great ... gorgeous.

I, however, do not look as good.

In fact, I think more about my dorky appearance with glasses, or what I'm going to wear from day-to-day, or how I'm going to fix my hair, than I do about the things that really matter.

What's worse is my heart.

My heart truly is wicked and evil above all things. I can't honestly say that I even desire some of the things I should ... the things that God tells me I should desire. My heart says NO.

The desire for a 24" waist far outweighs my desire for a "gentle and quiet spirit." It really does, no matter how hard I try to want it.

I know that's what I should desire, but my flesh is way too selfish for that.

My flesh says I am the most important thing in my life.

Oh, Jesus ... I'm appalled by my own self-centeredness. Forgive me. I truly want to desire what I should. The only truth I know is that You are the only Truth, You are the only Way. I can do nothing without You. Purify me, God. Make my heart Your heart.

This really did start out as a post just about my glasses.

A Child's Prayer (not the way Robert Louis Stevenson penned them)

(from La Petite Belle's mouth last night)

"God, help Daddy get a car. And, God help that car to be suh-weet!" (This made me giggle.)

"And, help K Belle (used real name) to want to kiss me on the lips." (That one made me sad. I gave her my wise counsel ... "Don't worry about it. She's becoming one of those weird teenagers. Pretty soon, you won't want to kiss her on the lips anyway." Then, Beau and I proceeded to shower her with lip kisses.)

How To Know If She's A True Friend

When you are wary about trusting her, she makes herself vulnerable for your sake. And, she proves to be a vault.

She cries with you at the same parts in movies and then you both laugh.

You roll your eyes at the same things.

She only needs a little coaxing to get up and dance.

She always points out the pretty things about you when you feel ugly.  

When you want to eat chocolate, she doesn't say, "you don't really need that." She just gives you a piece.

She loves you enough to tell you you're acting weird, or distant, or a being a pain.

She gets your humor. You get hers.

You're comfortable showing her your stretch marks.

She's comfortable with a butt-slap from you.

She just likes being with you.

She goes bra shopping with you. That's not a big deal, you say. No. She measures you, runs all over Victoria's Secret hunting sizes for you, and eyes your chest making sure you have the perfect curvature ... as a matter of fact, she may actually help in the maneuvering into said bras.

Even though you are not a hugger, you are comfortable hugging her (at appropriate times, of course, and not all the time).

When you are subjected to sleeping in the same bed with her, you're OK with her flailing her legs over you, or sighing loudly because you're moving too much. You'd still sleep with her again.

You would take somebody down if they messed with her.

I've really got some good friends. And I thank God for them.

Not much has changed in 22 years, sort of.

Beau had a birthday this past weekend.

He's old. Way older than (cough) me.

But, he's still got mad skillz.

In so many areas ...

Still just as musical ... that's him with the guitar and the swim trunks worn as shorts.

Even more, he can put together and shoot a good video, with or without the stache. 

And, he's just as charming as ever. (not to mention a big mouth)

Don't you just love when your old high school and college friends think it's a good idea to put up old pictures of you on Facebook?

But, seriously, you just get better with age, babe.

You should be amazing at 60.

Pretty much how every night goes ...

except last night. La Petite Belle decided to join in with me for Jillian's torture.

The DVD began.

Immediately, La Petite Belle began talkin' smack ... "this is so easy, Mama," and "I can't believe you think this is hard," and on and on and on.

This is me telling her, "This is only the warm-up. Chill out. It'll get harder."

And, the torture began and went on for 20 minutes.

Here we are starting on our push-ups.

We completed our cardio.

We completed our strength training.

We completed our ab work.

By the end, La Petite Belle was eating her words ... "Mama, I can't do this. I'm gonna have to take a break." and "Do you want me to get you some water, Mama?" and "I'm gonna sit this one out." and "I'm gonna have to do this without weights." Mmm hmm. Told you.

After the 20 minutes were over ...

And, later ... I did only eat that one piece. Eating and blogging at the same time is quite rewarding.

Happy Weekend! Must prepare for Beau's birthday tomorrow.

"Shaken, not stirred."

What La Petite Belle said last night, after I asked her what she was drinking, which was water, mixed with one of those nasty Tang packets ... obviously it was how she prepared it ... that's pretty strong lingo for someone with her views on drinking.

Then, after she said it, said, "And, don't put that on your blog."

Sorry, babes ... this blog was created for memories.

Now, I must go. A very important decision must be made ... chocolate or ice cream? Off to the kitchen to decide.

My life is full of excitement.

We've had an eventful day filled with:

one daughter getting into hot water with her parents 

(she takes the saying, "it's easier to ask for forgiveness, than permission" literally)

other daughter running around in yard with dog, stubbed her toe on a brick, and we think broke it ... now, she's incapacitated

same incapacitated child broke into uncontrollable cries and screams before bed and begged us to take her to the hospital, or to quote her, "someone call the doctor," because of a "crick" in her cheek (I have no clue what this was about and have never heard of a cramp or "crick" in your face. We think it might be a tooth. Who knows.)

gave same child Tylenol and touted it as a cure-all ... crying died down and sleep followed

props for tomorrow night's sermon that involves me ... minus one vital appendage:

(and no, I do not condone the purchasing of Bratz dolls ... this is the only one I allowed my daughter to keep because it was a gift. I'm actually thrilled that her foot is gone. She actually has more foot than clothes.)

figured out that one way you can get minimal comments on a post is to post about drinking and alcohol, when your readers are primarily Christians (Chickens ... um ... I mean ... how wise you are!)

Beau made chicken fried rice and, after working out with Jillian, I ate all mine and the rest of La Petite Belle's ... self-control is not my most-predominant virtue. (to make matters worse ... Kleinpeter Cafe' Au Lait ice cream ... Dear Me ... run to your nearest store and get you some of that Kleinpeter stuff)

The toad from Hell made his weekly visit.

And, to add to the excitement, Roxy Belle got a new toy.

She has her own views.

Conversation during lunch:

La Petite Belle: At my wedding or baby shower, I'm not going to have any beer. ('cause there's always beer at baby showers)

Me: OK, whatever you say. I'll remind you of that.

Beau: You can do whatever you want, it's your wedding.

La Petite Belle: I'll have lemonade, iced tea, sweet tea ('cause it's different than just plain iced tea), Sprite, root beer

Beau: You know, baby, drinking in itself is not a sin.

Me: Drunkenness is a sin and it's not healthy.

La Petite Belle: Well, I think it's a sin.

Me: Well, alright.

La Petite Belle: But, I WILL have Dr. Pepper (her version of alcohol).

She has opinions about this topic, along with smoking. Read all about them here and here.

Click here for an excellent article on this controversial subject. I'd love to know what you think.

The Best & Worst Things About Kids' Birthday Parties

Worst:

A luau in July in Louisiana - Temperature at least 100 degrees and that's a cold front. This picture was taken before my make-up melted off my face.

Keeping your husband happy while tween girls dominate and he's outnumbered ... wait ... he's always outnumbered.

Goodie Bags - Why do we even do these things? They're just a waste of time and filled with junk that will eventually get thrown away. Time to boycott the goodie bags.

Pretending you're a professional cake decorator - The best I can do ... pitiful.

Asking your children at least 20 times to stop eating all the food before the guests get there

Being the parent in charge when other parents just drop off their kids - I had one child whose parents didn't pick her up until 30 minutes after the party was over (same child that showed up 45 minutes late), causing us to miss G-Force (also same child whose parents did the same thing last year). I'm sorry, but consistent tardiness is just pure selfishness and inconsiderate. Would you invite this child again next year?

Having to invite every child in your kids' classes whether they're friends or not (same child from above) - I'm glad we don't have to do this as adults.

When your child becomes too "cool" to play games and just wants to hang out (even though the younger sister really wants to do the limbo)

Best:

Cake Batter - Seriously, Beau and I each ate about a cup of each flavor. I think I actually love the batter more than the cake. La Petite Belle helped with the licking.

Gift Cards to Target - Hoping that your child only spends about half of it and you can use the rest. Don't act like you've never done it.

Parties you can drop your kids off to (but you pick them up on time)

Leftover cake

Seeing your child happy - Makes it all worth it.

All in all, K Belle had a great party!

I just blinked and my little baby girl turned 12. Hold onto every day tightly.