The video post that was supposed to post Friday, but wouldn't until now.

We're not good for each other.

Men & women ... we're just not good for each other.

Not. At. All.

It's so weird how God created us to be so different, yet be so together,to be united as one.

Women & men are both evil in different ways. Really, they are.

(These thoughts are more of my crazy observations coming out due to that Beth Moore book. Did I tell you that you need to read it yet? People, you need to read it ("So Long Insecurity"). Yeah, I think I've said it at least 10 times.)

Women are evil in the fact that they like a good challenge and use their sexuality as power to get what they want. It's the truth.

This quote killed me: "Left to our basest nature, women love the power of making a strong man weak." This made me mad, but I did see the truth in it. Look at Samson and Delilah. Women always want the man they can't have. Geez.

So, then God creates men to be weak sexually. Hence, this constant battle ensues: Women using sex to have power over men; men being tempted by said women on a daily basis.

Women may not always act on their propensity toward sexual power, but it definitely plays a part in their mind. Let's just say women, at least one time in their lives, used their sexuality to get something they wanted. Like the time you shed a few tears or batted your eyelashes or mentioned your admiration for a man to possibly get out of a ticket, get a better grade, or get an extra day off. Sound familiar? Don't act so innocent.

I kinda feel sorry for the men. Really I do.

Do you see the complexity here?

Why would God make men weak in this manner, causing them to battle constantly? I'm sure some men battle this more than others, but I'm sure that ALL men have experience with this issue.

Why would God create women to find a lot of their security and identity in a man, causing them to pursue men, focusing on their weaknesses?

It's a paradox.

Women, we must use our power for good, and not evil.

What do you think?

Let me explain.

Last week, I made the mistake of mentioning to a few friends that I can't stand the fact that lots of people, mainly women, use the phrase, "I love you" so flippantly.

It makes me sound like a horrible person, doesn't it? I know. Uck.

I wish I could be one of those flowery, happy, smiley-faced people, who walks around kissing everyone on the cheek, massaging their neck, and boasting about my love for them.

Well ... maybe not that extreme.

The truth is I am nothing like this.

I do try to love everyone because that's what we, as Christians, are supposed to do. Some people are obviously easier to love than others, but I do generally love/like most people.

I just reserve my "I love you"s for when I really feel like they need to be expressed. It's different, of course, with my husband and children. That's an everyday thing. Period.

But, when I say, "I love you," I mean it. It's not just something to say. It's real.

My automatic reaction when I hear an acquaintance or a friend I barely know say "I love you" is "No, you don't."

Why? I'm not sure.

I think "You don't love me. You barely know me. And, if you did, you probably wouldn't."

But, there are those times when I really need to hear "I love you," and there are friends and, of course, Beau, who always know when to say it.

Maybe I'm putting way too much emphasis on the phrase.

But, for me, "I love you" is sacred.

It's not the same kind of love that you are supposed to have for everyone in the world. It's different. Or is it? Maybe you should walk up to strangers and tell them you love them. I don't know. Or maybe they'd prefer to see a little more action behind those words. I don't know.

Geez. Just don't tell me "I love you" unless you really mean it and don't expect me to say it. I'll say it when I know it's right. There. This discussion is over.

I hate your baby ...

She's so thin!

Hilarious! No other comments required.

If it were only that easy.

Yesterday, on the way home from school, I mentioned that I might go home and whip up a quick gumbo (which is actually an oxymoron down here in Louisiana, because it's not a REAL gumbo unless you've slaved for hours, making & constantly stirring your own roux until you smell like fried, burnt oil, and that gumbo's cooked all day).

La Petite Belle is such a picky eater, meaning she only likes chicken nuggets, macaroni & cheese, pizza, spaghetti, and anything that's main ingredient is sugar.

Dinner usually consists of compromise ... the compromise of how many bites of broccoli she has to eat if she is to get any ice cream. We make it work.

Back to my point ... when mentioning making a gumbo, chicken and sausage to be exact, La Petite Belle says she doesn't want that.

Surprise, surprise.

She says: "I'm done with sausage."

What?

She's done with it.

And, that's it. She will not eat or think about it again.

I'm adopting this attitude.

I'd love for things to be that simple.

I'm done with it ... no matter what it is. Then, it's over.

And, let me tell you, there's a lot to be done with.

My typical attitude and comments have been "I don't care," or "whatever." But, "I'm done" is much more complete and effortless.

I'm done with this post. See? Easy.

Profanity can be subjective.

We don't curse.

Seriously.

Well, at least I don't. Beau's been known to use "idle" words, as his mother used to call them.

Although there are certain words I find to be less offensive than others. If God saw fit enough to put these few words in the Holy Bible, I'm thinking they might be acceptable for me to use. Just a thought. No theology to back this thought up though, so don't quote me on it. Not to mention the fact that one of the said words just makes me giggle like a little school girl when I hear it or read it. Sometimes it's like I'm the one that's 13.

But, what's a little ridiculous to me is that K Belle got a demerit (discipline papers) yesterday because she said the word "crap."

Crap is considered profanity at the girls' school, which is an acceptable policy at a Christian school.

But, it was the way it was used that made me laugh ...

Not "Your teaching is crap," or "These chicken nuggets taste like crap," or "You're a crappy friend," or "I feel like crap." All these use the word "crap" in context.

This was the conversation, or it was somewhat like this, and how the word was used:

Girl 1: "Do your parents say 'crap'?"

Girl 2: "My parents say "crap" all the time."

K Belle: "Mine say "crap" too."

Demerits for all.

This was the first time one of my girls got a demerit and I laughed. Of course, I told K Belle that she shouldn't say that word because it really wasn't a nice word.

She knew.

But, made sure I knew that Daddy said it all the time.

Yeah, I know.

Let's not forget La Petite Belle's reference to Starbuck's coffee.

A CAPITAL OFFENSE

Me: "Did you read that email from _____ the other day?"

Beau: "I don't read any emails that are written in all caps."

(Really? Interesting standard.)

Me: "Don't you write in all caps?"

Beau: (smirking the smirk he smirks when he knows I've got him)

Me: "Don't you think that's a little hypocritical since you write in all caps? You do write in all caps, don't you?" (He does. He prints, using only capital letters.)

Beau: "I don't write in all caps. My capital letters are bigger than my other letters."

Me: "Capital letters don't refer to size. The small capitals are still capitals." (Example: APPLE)

Beau: (nothing)

Me: "I believe you just got served."

Beau: "You're stupid."

My point exactly.

In talking about men's insecurities and the differences between men and women, Beth posed two questions in her book to men.

I, of course, thought it would be an awesome idea to pose the same questions to Beau and to get his thoughts on things.

Take a look at our text conversation last night.

Remember my point yesterday of how men can only think of one thing at a time? There's your evidence right there.

When he got home, we had the real conversation and he surprised me with his answers, which I won't share with you, because that may be off limits in his mind. I mean, if I want to tell y'all about my junk and the craziness that goes on in my head, that's one thing. But, his junk he'd rather keep to himself.

Let's just say, he's not the typical male and doesn't always fit the stereotype. But, we already knew that. He's quite magnificent.

But, enough of that.

Pose those same questions to your husbands tonight and watch their reactions. They think we're crazy and that we think way too much and too deeply. I promise. It may be quite difficult for them to emote or explain their answers because it's probably something they've never thought of before. See what happens. Maybe he'll shed a tear. Or maybe just roll his eyes. Nonetheless, you'll gain some insight.

But, the number one answer from men about what their biggest insecurity is ... well, there were really two:

1. You guessed it ... Fear of failure (especially in the provision area)

2. Failure to prove himself a man (totally don't get that one)

Then, I read this: (talking about men)

"The ultimate judgement is often left up to one individual's scrutiny: their own father. And, God help them both if the father didn't prove his own manhood to his son. His word can become their lifelong bond whether it was affirming or searing. If every person on the planet acknowledges that a man is a man, but his own father doesn't, the fight to earn his stripes is twice as bloody."

Wow.

Talk about pressure!

And, it seems to be cyclical ... one father insecure, trying to prove his manhood, not affirming his own son, leaving the son to continue the cycle of trying to prove his manhood, while not affirming his son again ... and the cycle continues.

So, much boils down to the fathers, doesn't it? Not only for men, but for women too.

As women, we don't ever question our womanhood. It's not an issue.

I just thought it extremely interesting that most men struggle with the same thing, whereas women have 10-20 things they struggle with in the security realm, which are constantly changing.

More proof of the complexity of women.

I think I may try to simplify my thinking. Take just one of my insecurities and only dwell on that one and forget the rest until I get the one under control. Think that'll work?

Probably not. Heck, it doesn't even make any sense.

I'm done.

Women are strange creatures.

“Guys are simple... women are not simple and they always assume that men must be just as complicated as they are, only way more mysterious. The whole point is guys are not thinking much. They are just what they appear to be. Tragically.” Dave Barry

Really, we are strange or complicated, whichever word you prefer.

Each woman is so different. Women may share ideas or opinions, likes or dislikes, but their brains are so intrinsically unique.

We are quite complicated. Though some may claim they're not, they lie.

Men, on the other hand, seem quite simple.

I'm not saying "simple" as in dumb or oblivious, although there are those that are. I'm saying their thought patterns don't travel in a million different directions. While women can make themselves crazy with their own brain activity.

A man can think about one thing at a time. Simple, huh?

Men are easily content.

A man can be happy by you simply handing him the remote, napping in the recliner, eating pizza that you allowed him to eat on the couch, watching football, or you giving him the tiniest compliment.

A woman, on the other hand, always thinks beyond such simple acts ... like, he's not interested in me because he'd rather watch football, what's the meaning behind his compliment, what does he want, he wants me to be fat by ordering pizza ... he must not love me anymore because ____________ (you fill in the blank). And, the list goes on and on. One thought leads to the next and you've got a raging battle going on inside as you smile and sit there quietly.

I blame Solomon.

I've always had some idea that Solomon has something to do with our insecurities as women and how we feel about one another. We can love another woman like a sister one minute and want to pull every stand of hair out of her head the next.

We are so competitive with one another.

Geez Louise. In the grand scheme of things, who cares if Mary Beth's peach cobbler is better than mine? Or if Suzie Lou has enough hair on her head for two people while I struggle with my three strands? Or if Cathy Jo's kids sit quietly in church with their hands folded on their laps while mine drop an entire pack of raisins on the floor and then punch each other for doing it? Or if Cindy Lee's husband bought her a day at the spa for Valentine's Day while my husband showed up with a ThermaCare patch and brownie mix for me to bake (although that kinda sounds good right now)? (none of these things actually happened to me ... just go with it. And, yes every woman in this post has two first names. I like it.)

Anyway ... you see it? Get my point?

There's always competition whether we care to admit it or not.

Let's go back to Solomon and my theory.

Solomon had what? ... like 300 wives and 700 concubines. I think that's right.

Talk about competition.

Who will he choose tonight? I have to stand out more than the other girls. Who does he really love? All these thoughts, all the while, living together like sisters. Hello, complicated.

This mentality was passed down to their daughters and to their daughters and to their daughters until multiple generations of insecure women were born.

Now, yes, it's gotten worse over time due to our environment and the darn media, but, really, it was always there.

It's just a little theory I have. I'm still perfecting it.

My point is that there are no two women alike. And, each one is a bit strange in her thinking.

OK, hold up ... This started out as a post about men, but then I rambled. So, I guess I'll save my man post for tomorrow. Because, boy do I have opinions about them. Let's leave it at this for now: they're simple. But, they each have one massive insecurity they deal with that I'll post my opinion about tomorrow.

And, remember ... Beth Moore has been stirring all these things up inside of me. Get "So Long, Insecurity." Go down to the bookstore and get it today. It will change your life.

More Than a Mess

I'd never seen "Hoarders" until the marathon that played on A & E yesterday. Oh, my! I just could not stop watching.

It made me want to clean something and definitely go and organize my closet.

I just don't understand the mentality of hoarders. What in the world could cause a person to brush his teeth, rinse, then spit in an old orange juice container, cap it, and save it for the next day? Or worse poop in a plastic bag, throw it in a pile, and keep that pile for 10 years? Ew. And, EW. I just don't understand. Obviously, the psychologists that are there are very much needed.

Come to think of it. Psychologists are needed in most of A & E's shows.

"Obsessed."

"Intervention."

"Gene Simmons' Family Jewels." (hee hee)

Is it normal to be obsessed by shows about obsession? If so, I am guilty.

Hmm. There's A & E's next show.

Have you seen these shows? What's your take on them?

I'm not sure where they get it from.

Well, the time has come. My girls are finally able to put their over-dramatic personalities to some good use.

My girls are involved in CYT (Christian Youth Theatre), a national organization that was brought here by a couple of awesome people about a year ago.

K Belle was the first to get involved. This is her second year and absolutely adores it. She was in the first production, "Godspell," cast in the second production, "Seussical, Jr.," (which we had to pull her from ... long story that I may have posted about under tough parenting), and is now in their third production, "Annie, Jr." (one of my favorites).

La Petite Belle gave up soccer this year to also be in CYT. That was huge! She has also been cast in "Annie, Jr."

La Petite Belle as an "additional orphan." Here she is on the far left.

K Belle as "July," one of Annie's orphan buds who has a few speaking and singing parts. Here she is second from the right. (She was a little disappointed that she was the oldest orphan, but I encouraged her to make the best of it. How many times will she get to play an orphan? Besides the typical days when her real mom forgets to pack her lunch. Not many after this year.)

Here's a closer look ... she's behind Annie on the right.

This is a really great organization. K Belle has grown in confidence and ability over the last year. I'm so proud of both of them.

For more information and to purchase tickets for this weekend's performances, go here. Or if you're local, you can also contact me for tickets.

What a busy week ahead!

This is what I live with, people.

Beau is one "wild and crazy guy."

He has calmed down quite a bit over the years as he's matured, but every now and then, he reverts back to his early years and antics.

Here are just a few examples of the antics I speak of:

* In our first few years of marriage, his idea of fun times was sneaking into the bathroom, reaching over the top of the shower curtain, and pouring a pitcher filled with ice & water on me while I was taking a shower. Don't worry. There was payback.

* He made up a character called "Mr. Eraserhead" by contorting his face and flailing his arms about. It was quite creepy. He got his kicks by chasing me around the house as this crazed lunatic.

* If I ever told him I had to go to the bathroom, massive tickling ensued. He was evil and quite a merciless tickler, causing tears and loss of breath. He still is. Just ask my girls.

I should have seen all this coming when, as friends, I went to kiss him good-bye on the cheek, and he quickly turned his head and kissed me smack dab on the lips. Sneaky snake.

Last night he was back to his old tricks.

Imagine La Petite Belle's surprise when her 10 "licks" was just that. Literal licks all over the face and one on the tummy (to grow on). Quite disturbing and disgusting. I know. He's chased me down to do the same to me. Yuck.

That's a little bit personal.

I had my annual lady's exam yesterday.

Joy.

You remember my hunt for a new OBGYN? Well, I found one.

And, I absolutely love my doctor now. She's a young little thing, who compliments me on my fashion style, and laughs with me about all the getting-older issues. I could totally hang out with her more than once a year (plus she has softer, gentler hands than my previous fifty-something-year-old male doctor ... just sayin').

But, just recently, the office instituted a whole new system, where everything is computerized. No papers. No notes. One wrong click of the mouse and you could be scheduled for a hysterectomy or plagued with an STD. Kinda scary. I think I like the hand-written charts better.

However, the scariest part to me was the detailed information I had to dish out with a stranger yesterday. And, I mean DETAILED ... due to the new system.

And, to boot, the nurse I had to spill all this information to was a substitute nurse.

How much information does your doctor really need to know about your (cough) (ahem) activity? Or what year you had your tonsils out when you were a child? And, the questions just got more personal.

I'm not sure how comfortable I am sharing my life story with a stranger. Too weird. But, of course, I did it. Again, weird.

I must say that the worst part of my visit was getting weighed. Even my closest friends don't know how much I weigh, but that nurse stranger sure does.

The horrifying result was that I need to lose 20 lbs. For real. I needed to lose 15 lbs. last year, but obviously didn't. Ugh.

I asked the doctor for a pill to speed up my metabolism. No dice.

Will the battle ever end?

I'll ponder that question as I sample my homemade cupcakes for tomorrow.

Rocktober

You all know why I love October, right?

Multiple birthday celebrations lend a plus to this already awesome month, especially when they are your multiple birthday celebrations. Who doesn't like to be celebrated? No one.

I won't bore you too much with the details of my many celebrations ... only show you a few pictures. You'll get the idea.

La Petite Belle & I share a birthday week, so it ends up being quite the wild rompus around here.

Add in a slight chill & breeze in the air, caramel popcorn, Starbucks' pumpkin spice latte, sweaters, apples, cinnamon-spiced candles, wearing boots again, and the fact that Thanksgiving is just around the corner with multiple birthday celebrations and you've got Rocktober ... the best month ever!

The weekend in pictures:

DAY 1 -

Cupcakes waiting in my office for breakfast! YAY!

Cuban food for lunch with friends.
Convertible ride to and from lunch (Beau, the chauffeur).
In addition to my precious CoCo Mademoiselle, these wonderful gifts.
Seeing "You Again" with the family (so funny), followed by my favorite yogurt.

DAY 2 -

Pedicures with my peeps.

Dinner.

Delicious - Tilapia Lafayette.

DAY 3 -

La Petite Belle's Horse-Riding Party - Getting ready.

Starting to trot.

Painting horses.

Getting ready for the games.

Presents.

La Petite Belle's birthday dinner request - spaghetti.

And, it's not over. La Petite Belle's actual birthday is Wednesday, which means another celebration at school. Whew. I'm exhausted from all this partying.