Ready for summer.

Lilly....

Meet Lilly.
Say Hi, Lilly. I'm pretty sure if Lilly would spit out that thing in her mouth, she'd say hello.

Lilly is kind of special. You see, Lilly was my baby when I was a little girl. She was given to me the Christmas when just EVERYONE had to have one....and if you didn't get one, well...then....I guess your parents didn't love you or something. Lilly, is over a quarter of a century old! She doesn't show her age at all, does she?

I used to go visit my Grandma Avery on the weekends. She was a very special grandma, in as much as I pretty much thought that she could do anything. She painted with oil paints, let me play with her artist supplies, she played any card game imaginable, did puzzles faster than anyone, she knew all the answers to the puzzles on Wheel of Fortune, bought orange sodas, Klondike bars, and Doritos on Friday nights for me to consume all at once while I got to stay up until the 10 o'clock news came on, and then fed me sticky buns on Saturday mornings.

Yes, she was a very special grandma. When I was about 7 years of age, she taught me how to sew. I sat and sewed little pillows, crudely cross stitched a sampler or two, and happily hand stitched little things that I usually gave away as gifts.

One weekend, I toted Lilly over to my Grandma's house and announced that I would like to learn to sew a dress. And my Grandma helped me to do it.
We laidLily down on some paper and traced around her.....we cut out the paper to create a pattern. Then, she took me up to the 5 and 10 to pick out some fabric, and I chose a happy little pattern of a girl petting a cat, and another pattern with a spray of flowers all over it. We painstakingly hand sewed our hearts out that weekend, and created Lily's dress.

Sure, the stitches were crooked...and the dress was less than flattering. But I made it, and no dress was ever made with more love than that dress. And when the weekend was over, Grandma sent me home with the remaining fabric so that I could create another dress for Lilly.
I never got around to it. Because there's the fabric. And it's over a quarter of a century old too.
So, what do you say, Lilly? Should we ask the Little Apples if they want to learn how to make a dress? I certainly hope that I can be as good a teacher as the one I had many years ago.

Sewing bug...

My friend got a new sewing machine.....a really really nice one. Then she started cranking out some super cute new skirts for her daughter. This sparked the sewing bug. So I had to see if I could make some super cute skirts too. This is what I have been busy making these last couple of weeks. (and I'm posting this mostly for my non-facebook friends, since these pics have been plastered all over facebook for a while now)

The first thing I worked on was a bedding set for The Big Apple. She wanted something special for her American Girl doll... so special it was. I let her pick the fabric out at the store, and to my surprise...she didn't pick her favorite color (pink), she picked blue!Then, I made her a skirt. She picked pretty much ever scrap of blue fabric that I had in the craft closet, and I turned it into a skirt. It's her new favorite skirt. I have to sneak into her room at night and wash it, and return it in the morning. She likes it THAT MUCH.

Then, the Middle Apple claimed that she NEEDED a skirt too. Now those of you who know my Middle Apple know what her personality is like. It's bold. It's loud. She speaks her mind. So, she chose fabrics accordingly. Yup. Purple cheetah and black. Definitely makes a statement, don't you think?
The Wee Little Apple got the last skirt. I found this cute print in the remnant bin at the craft store and whipped this skirt out in a couple of hours. It's by far my favorite.
So now that I have been bit by the sewing bug, and I've had some practice on the remnants and rags laying around the house, I think I'm finally ready to start cutting some of my nicer fabrics that I have picked up. Can't wait to see what I can make next!!!!

Mardi Gras Unraveled: Parades

What is Mardi Gras? When you get down to the brass tacks of Mardi Gras, it is the celebration(s) held leading up to the season of Lent. Need a more detailed history of Mardi Gras? Please click here. One of my children informed me last year that one of her Sunday School teachers had told her that Mardi Gras was the devil's holiday, but in reading the history of the celebration, it is far from being that. Mardi Gras is actually deeply rooted in Christian Traditions.

For me, Mardi Gras is a season to smile. It's all about fun! It's about wearing bright colors and big bows! It's a time for being together with family and friends. It's a time to watch your kid's eyes light up watching floats go by, it's about music, and dancing in the street. (Even if you are wearing your underwear over top of your clothes! Yes, The Middle Apple walked up to a guy on a 4 wheeler in the parade today, and asked him if she could have the underwear that was hanging on his handlebars. And then wore them on top of her clothes. I'm probably going to regret letting her do that....but whatever.

Mardi Gras is about smelling gumbo cooking. It's screaming "Throw me something, Mister!" at the top of your lungs. Just because it's fun.
It's about having fun. Today.
Because tomorrow, you gotta clean up.

You know you live in Louisiana when....

You know you live in Louisiana when..... the Friday before the Superbowl, you can't get out of your driveway because a pack of Elementary School kids are flooding the streets.
You know you live in Louisiana when that pack of kids congregate on the street corner, joined by the local high school marching band....creating a mob of people that requires police presence and a call to the local Newspaper.
You know you live in Louisiana when the pack of kids all start chanting "Who Dat....Who Dat....Who Dat say they gonna beat them Saints!" And march down the street to "When the Saints go Marching In"
You know you live in Louisiana when your team wins the Superbowl, a crowd equally as large floods the street in the night, hugging, kissing, and screaming. The sounds of car horns beep like crazy, the police and fire trucks circle the neighborhoods with lights and sirens going....not because of any local crime, but because they too, are celebrating a victory. Fireworks are blasting, there is dancing in the streets, and celebrations that last for hours.

And you know you live in Louisiana, when you are proud to call this place home.

Not Me Monday

I don't participate in Not Me Monday very often. But I had to confess this one, because it is eating me up inside.

I simply did not lose track of my baby during my oldest child's birthday party at the bowling alley....and I absolutely DID NOT find her playing underneath some scaffolding where someone was messing around with lighting and sound equipment. And one of my friends most certainly DID NOT take a picture of it. I am the most responsible parent I know of, and would NEVER stop for a second to dance at my daughter's birthday party. And I'm am NOT posting this picture as proof that I was actually at the birthday party.


And finally, I did not grin from ear to ear when my husband wanted to purchase The Big Apple a BB gun for her birthday. I did not totally laugh my head off when upon opening her gift did the words "But girls aren't allowed to shoot guns!" Furthermore, I did NOT give her and her daddy the "thumbs up" when he took her outside, and began giving her her first lessons in safety....and her taking down the target.
Want to participate in Not Me Monday? Head on over to MckMama's Blog and sign right up! It's fun!

So this is what 8 feels like.......

"So, this is what 8 feels like...." ~~~The Big Apple, (Feb. 3rd, 2010)



It feels like going out for your birthday at Incredible Pizza, and discovering that even the signs on the wall are all about you. It feels like playing Skiball with your sister....as many times as you want.
It feels like shooting hoops, and actually making some.

It feels like going bowling......

and shooting. (Her daddy would be so proud.) And he bought her a BB gun for her birthday, but we are waiting until he gets back from his trip to give it to her.
Being 8 feels like go-kart racing with your friends, and coming in dead last...but you don't mind because even the employees at Incredible Pizza will drive you around because they know it's your birthday and want you to have a blast.

The Big Apple turned 8 years old yesterday. It was a bittersweet, but perfect day.

She finished off the day by spilling over a box of my tampons in the bathroom at bedtime, and asked what they were. I asked her if she felt grown up enough to know, and she said she was. And I guess that 8 years old is old enough, because I sat her down and gave her just enough information for an 8 year old to know, and as scientific and factual as I could be because I know how her brain works....and instead of her being horrified about the prospect of growing and changing...she asked some very good questions and thought the whole monthly thing was kind of cool.

My little girl is growing up at lightning speed....and as sad as that makes me, I am beyond proud of her and am enjoying every single second of it.

I need to hear from some of my bloggers.....when did you first start telling your kids about the facts of life? I'm hoping that I didn't start too early...I just saw an open window for information last night and went for it.