Groceries and Beer

We are finishing our grocery shopping and come to the last aisle which is the milk, cheese, and beer aisle.  As I’m pushing the cart down the aisle Grace says “Mommy, don’t forget to buy Daddy’s beer.”  A little old lady who is undoubtedly Baptist and sits on the front row of church every Sunday just gasps.  I tell Grace that I won’t forget hoping this is the end of the conversation.  That, of course, is not possible.  As I’m putting the beer in the cart Grace says “Mommy, I don’t like beer.  I just like wine.”  I move as quickly as possible to the register, check out and hightail it out of there hoping not to collide with the ambulance in the parking lot which I’m sure is in route to revive the little old lady.

                          Yes, this is my shopping cart.

Easter

I read on Facebook that all my good mother friends were hiding Easter eggs and candy for their children to find throughout the house. They were all so excited to see their childrens' faces in the morning, etc, etc.  Instead of doing the same, I opted to go hear my uncle's band with my two aunts.  There's a number of reasons this won. 1) My mother was going to watch my children.  2) Actual adult time outside of falling exhausted on the couch with a glass of wine is rare, so you have to take it where you can get it.  3) If my children realized that the Easter bunny hid their candy instead of having it readily available for them to immediately inhale, all hell would break loose. So, a big thanks to my cousin Leigh and her helpers for the Easter egg hunt at her house Easter Sunday.

                       Uncle Rick playing his banjo.

The Family

These stories are about my two daughters and my husband mostly.  My girls are Grace and Aubrey.  Grace is 3.5 and Aubrey just turned 2.  They are 19 months and 15 days apart.  This in large part is why we’re so crazy.  My husband, Scott, is from a small town just outside of Jackson called Pelahatchie.  (The only reason anyone recognizes Pelahatchie is due to the LeAnn Rhimes song Nothing Better To Do.)  He is the gang leader of the Crooked Creek Cripplers which consists of him, his cousins, a few childhood friends and their grill/bar-b-q pit.  My banker boy is a little obsessed with Gangland and likes to bring it home to the country.  For future reference when I say the country, that is what we call Pelahatchie or rather Bowman Hill where my husband grew up.

Background Check

In order to better understand some of the situations, you need a little background information.  I grew up in New Orleans, went to Arizona State then did an internship at Walt Disney World’s College Program.  These three places are known to many as Laissez les bon temps rouler (Let the good times roll!) and I’m not scared to let them roll.  When I moved to Jackson, MS (otherwise known as the Bible belt) from Orlando, I was in for a rude awakening.  And for good measure let’s just throw in the mix that I’m Episcopal.  There’s nothing a Baptist likes better than saving an Episcopalian and one from the city of sin (New Orleans, not Vegas); I damn near guarantee them a direct flight to heaven.  When I make comments about Baptists in my stories it’s not to be mean; I’m just not ashamed to talk to you in the liquor store.