Quoth he, quoth I

Things I legitimately have to say to him:
+ Go back in the bathroom right now and flush the toilet.
+ Did you eat any vegetables?  I know you didn't.  You need to have some.  Please.
+ This is a serious conversation, Greg.  We need to talk without you doing that accent. Seriously, stop it.
+ Do you have any idea how much you've spent on the credit card this month?  You're spending way too much!
+ You can't just have soda and chocolate for dinner.
+ Will you play "Risk" with me?  Please?  I'll pay you.
+ Have you seen my keys?


Things he legitimately has to say to me:
+ Are you wearing your seat belt?
+ Please don't bring that coke in to the movie theaters in your purse.  You know that's against the rules.  I'll act like I don't know you if you do.
+What did I tell you about grabbing my butt in public?
+ I don't want you rolling down the window to scream at those people.  Seriously, Bonnie, don't.  Don't don- That's it, I'm putting the child lock on.
+ How fast are you driving?  Are you going the speed limit?  I don't believe you.  Slow down.
+ You're talking way too loud right now.  Everyone can hear you.
+ Have you seen my keys?

When it comes down to it we're just a couple of little kids trying to figure out how to be grown ups.  It ain't easy.

P.S.  Share the most insane thing your significant other has legitimately had to say to you or vice versa.  The best ones will be highlighted on the blog on Wednesday.

Bonnie, it's your birthday!

Yesterday was Baby Bonnie's first birthday and let me tell you, it was an event to remember.

Baby Bonnie is my best friend, Amy's, child.  We have to call her Baby Bonnie or else we get her confused with me.  For a while there people started calling us big Bonnie and little Bonnie but you better believe I put a stop to that immediately.  I ain't never going to have a "Big" in front of my name, I don't care how old or how fat I get.

I like Baby Bonnie quite a bit.  To start with, she's named after me, so obviously she's awesome. Secondly, she's active as all get out and always running around getting into mischief.  Just like her namesake. Thirdly, she eats everything in sight and makes no apologies.  What a girl!

I'm not sure when it became a thing to throw big shindigs for one year olds, but I'm all about it.  Barbeque, cupcakes and throwing frisbees in the park all in the name of some 12 month old who doesn't have a clue in the world what is going on?  Sure, why not.

It's kind of crazy to watch my best friend be a mom and parent to this busy child who cries for no reason and eats bugs and makes terribly awful smells.  I mean, who can understand a baby?  And yet my bestie spends all day every day not only trying to understand the little one, but feeding her, bathing her, putting her to bed, etc.  All of this service from a girl who it seems like yesterday was running around with me in a bikini and trying to date boys so they would take her out on their boat.  My.  Somehow we grew up.

Amy and Cody are very adoring parents.  It is a little weird to be non parents and watch your friends who also used to be non parents with you suddenly become parents.  And now they're doing all the parent things we all used to agree were totally ridiculous.  Like talk in baby voices and schedule all plans around nap time. Also Amy lets Baby Bonnie scream into Amy's mouth and Cody just looks on and laughs uncontrollably at it all which is very weird to someone like me who has no children.  But I guess as weird as it is, it is also very sweet and assuring to see a baby who has two parents who are so freaking crazy about her.  I get convinced our whole society is going to pot with media now days and drugs on every corner and scammers up the ying yang. But then I see two parents like this, who are so wildly in love with their child, and I think maybe we're all going to end up okay after all.

It reminds me of a journal entry I was reading last week.  I was a junior in high school and madly in love with a boy named Nate.  I thought about him constantly, stalked him at church, doodled his name in my notebook. Junior year I had trigonometry with him and I flirted the best an awkward, never-been-kissed sixteen year old can flirt.  Somehow word got around that he liked me back and I was in absolute heaven.  He had never been kissed either, and I was convinced we were to be each other's first kisses.

The big girl's choice dance was coming up (I promise this tangent has a purpose.  Or does it?) and two months before the dance even arrived I was making big plans to ask Nate.  This would be our moment.  Our dance, our perfect date, the ideal first kiss situation.  But then Nate got asked by another girl.  He went with her.  They kissed.  My pure, virginal, perfect boy was tainted.

I was heartbroken.  Absolutely devastated.  Not only had they kissed, but they were now dating, taking the crush of my lifetime officially off the market.  I wrote this in my journal the night I found out: "Mom and dad could tell something was wrong at dinner so I told them.  Surprisingly, they cheered me up.  Dad said, "He's got a squeaky voice anyways," and then mom said, "and besides that he never speaks up and his nose is crooked!"  I guess my folks can be alright.  Mom reminded me to keep it all in perspective."

I guess I love this story because on the surface it seems so simple and ordinary, but it shows clearly how much my parents loved me. (And still love me.)  How they adored me, just like Amy and Cody adore Baby Bonnie.  And how they were trying to protect me and stop me from crying and keep me happy and all of those things that parents want for their children, whether they're one year old or sixteen years old.

There is a lot I would have liked to tell Baby Bonnie on her birthday, but she don't understand jack crap and she was too busy destroying her birthday cake anyway.  But if I could have, I would have told her that no matter how freaking tough life gets she'll be just fine because she's got two parents who are absolutely, one hundred percent, madly in love with her and they will help her through all the rough times.

Take it from a Bonnie who knows.

Turning into Mom

It's happened.
I suspected it was happening when I wouldn't go to Las Vegas until the house was totally clean.
I suspected it was happening when I started carrying snacks in my purse at all times.
I certainly suspected it was happening when Hubs started repeatedly telling me that I talk too loud into the phone.

I have tried to ignore it for years, but tonight the sign was so strong and clear, that it is officially time to embrace what I have long known to be true.

I'm turning into my mom.

The final acceptance of this knowledge came tonight while perusing the aisles of Target. I have read many blogs recently with pretty girls posting ridiculously cute pictures of themselves in expensive looking outfits.  Without fail, there is a caption underneath the picture that states at least part of the ensemble was purchased at Target.  Hmmmm... I started thinking. Target? For clothes? For cute clothes? This would surely take some investigation.

And so, I buckled up and cruised on over to Target tonight, hoping to find myself immersed in a blissful world of colored skinny jeans and leopard print flats. Alas, it was not so.  The Target in my neck of the woods was picked over, unorganized, and smelled like moldy couches.  After 20 minutes I decided that I was officially not going to try to buy clothes at Target ever again.

On my way to the register to purchase the one item I had picked up, (a bag of starbursts, naturally) my eye stopped on some V-necks for men.

Ohhh, la, la, were these things looking good!  So many colors, so many patterns, so many sizes, and all for $10 a pop? My oh my, it looked like I had finally entered the celestial Target kingdom that others have long raved about.  Hubs would certainly look oh so dashing in these sharp v-necks.

Lets see... color... red?  No, black...? Nah... White?  How about the stripes.... would Hubs like yellow?  Too many choices!  My heart, ever the wily devil, convinced me that Hubs needed ALL the shirts.  In ALL the sizes.  Then my brain kicked into gear and reminded my heart that I don't have all the money in the world to buy Hubs V-necks at Target, even if it is the celestial kingdom.  AND THEN... out of left field, a voice came to me saying, "Buy them all, take them back to Hubs, let him pick two, and then return the rest."

"You're a genius!" I said to the voice, and carefully started selecting sizes and colors. Who am I trying to kid? There was no careful about it- I grabbed everything in sight with the ever-present thought in mind that I would bring most of these back.

"You having a shirt party?" The cheeky girl at the register asked me as I rang up the shirts.  I tell you, cashiers these days sure can be sassy.  Just ask me about Carlos.  Or Joel. 
"No... I'm just going to take them home to my husband and let him pick two he likes, and then I'll return the rest so that he gets the ones he wants."
"Wow. Sounds like way too much work to me.  If you just pick out two yourself, he'll never even know about the other options. Where'd you ever get that idea to take them all home?"
I was pretty much over this cashier by this time, so I shrugged off her question, grabbed my bag and toloodled on out of Target.

Naturally, on the way home, I thought about it. Where had I learned such a seemingly inefficient way of choosing shirts for my husband? 

And then it dawned on me.

Mom.
I had learned it from my mom.

Countless occurrences where my mom went to the mall and came home with four different styles of the same dress flooded my memory.  Three different sizes of shoes, or six different colors of the same shirt laid out on the kitchen table.  "Pick two, Bonnie, and I'll take the rest back," or  "choose the dress style you like the most- but you can't have them all!"

I had always secretly wondered at my mom's way of shopping and thought numerous times to myself, "But how can she stand to always have to be returning stuff? Surely she can't really enjoy shopping in this way."

And, now, here I was, without even realizing it, starting my own legacy of buying in bulk and returning the superfluous merchandise.

Yes, I suppose now it is official.

I am my mom.

Have YOU turned into YOUR mom yet?