Mrs. CPA

Monitor

One of the most delightful feelings in the world is reaching over and turning off the baby monitor on my side of the bed when it is TP's night to get up with Mr. Cheeks. Unfortunately, I'm normally ripped from my dreamy slumber by the noise from HIS side of the bed, and I am forced to take drastic measures - like pulling the pillow off his head or an elbow jab to the back. He hasn't quite grasped that it totally defeats the purpose of me getting a full night's sleep when I HAVE TO WAKE YOU UP. Jackass.

Bookworm

Do you know I am a reader? No, not just a reader - a READER. I bring a magazine or a book with me to a fast food place to read if I have to wait in the drive thru lane. I bring a book with me in the car while TP is driving so I can read on the way, even a 10 minute trip. I bring a book to the nursery in case there isn't anyone for early service. I've read in the DMV line. I would rather read than talk to a real, live human. One of my first dates with my husband was to Macaroni Grill and and I remember being almost finished with a book and apologizing for reading on a bench outside while we were waiting for our table. He should have run right then.

I read whatever is around - stuff in the bathroom (I could probably quote the back of a can of Lysol), in the kitchen, everywhere. If there are words - I'm reading them. I am a contemporary fiction reader mostly. That John Adams biography is languishing in my nightstand waiting for me to not have anything else to do. I borrow books on CD from the library to listen to on my way to Arkansas. I need at least 15 hours worth of CD's - and no abridging either. I even have a patented "book hold" when I go to the library and pick up my stack of 15 books so I don't need a bag.

Not being able to read used to stop me from doing other activities. I feel like I am wasting time when I could be reading instead of exercising (like I ever do that anymore), driving, or pretty much anything else where I can't hold a book up to my face. When someone interrupts my reading, I become exasperated quickly. If a situation occurs when I could be reading, but I don't have a book, I become slightly panicked.

When I was in the 3rd grade, our school had a read-a-thon, one of those deals where people give you money for how many books you read. I read 25 books in a month and won the school a set of encyclopedias. I remember my teacher trying to coax a learning challenged boy in our class to read one more book so he would be up to three books, and how I couldn't understand why he couldn't get there. I was in a car accident with my Nan when I was in elementary school and I had to be transported to Pine Bluff by ambulance on a back board because I had a possible neck injury. I read. (Does anyone else remember those choose your own adventure books? Do they make those anymore? Mine always had bits of paper stuck in them to try and go back to before I killed myself.) I got in trouble for READING TOO MUCH in school. If the few minutes we would have before going to P.E. or music, our teacher would read a few pages of a book aloud. In the 2nd grade, Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory was one I had already read and all the kids would pump me for information and I dealt it out like crack. By 16, I had read all of the Steven King and Dean Koontz books, John Grisham, Nancy Drew (old and new series), Christopher Pike, Sidney Sheldon, Judy Blume, Roald Dahl and anything else I could get my hands on, even V.C. Andrews. Countless books were swollen from their accidental dunk in the bathtub. Since I come from a small town, the library wasn't that large, but I read just about everything they had. I would be going on a trip to camp or choir tour and my mom would buy me books, which she would then have to hide or I would read them all before it was even time to start packing.

I was in the hospital in labor; I read. I have a habit of finding a new author and reading EVERYTHING they have written and then just maintaining with the new releases. It makes me happy to find someone new with a big backlog of books for me to read. John Stanford, Harlen Coben, Stuart Woods and Lawrence Block are a few new discoveries. I have probably sent several children through 5 year college programs whose parents work for Literary Guild.

I don't do trashy novels, maybe a few Nora Roberts trilogies here and there, but I love her J.D Robb "In Death" series. I don't do science fiction or fantasy. I never read Lord of the Rings; I read The Hobbit in high school and hated it. I read Roots and loved it. I made a list (assisted by Amazon and Literary Guild's order history) of 35 authors that I would buy a book they had written, no questions. (I had to leave Patricia Cornwell off, in past years her stuff has become crappy.) I never read a book twice. I always like the book better than the movie, with few exceptions. Sometimes I think I need use my powers for good (more "intellectual" type reading) but [*whining*] I don't want tooooooooo.

I used to get about a dozen magazines, but I have culled it down to TV Guide, US Weekly and Parenting. When I have run completely out of books, I will even read TP's Playboy. He knows I'm desperate then (and I truly read it for the articles). The interviews are sometimes very interesting and uncensored; you should try it!

I have bought Mr. Cheeks plenty of books and received them as baby shower gifts. I don't read to him as much as I should, I guess. We don't have a very well established bedtime routine yet. When it does all come together though, we read 3-5 books before he drifts off. I want to instill a love of reading in him, but probably not the obsessive streak I am guilty of.

Not reading on demand has been one of the hardest adjustments I have had to make as a mother (aren't I pitiful). I can't read as much as I used to. While working on Mr. Cheeks' stocking, I listened to a book on CD, so I wouldn't be "wasting" that time. I used to sit on the couch all night long with a book, get up, go and take a bath and read, and then climb into bed with a book. Now there is a person who needs my attention, and I have to stop.

I think I need an intervention.

Heathens no more

The baptism is now done. After many hours of planting, cleaning and cooking (well, loading up the ice chest anyway), everyone has gone home. It didn't rain, no one got drunk in front of my preacher-ette, there was much baby holding, and no family feuds.

I took two days off work, just to do all my cleaning and planting. Thursday I worked in the yard for 6 hours and then Mr. Cheeks and I took a big nap. Oxyclean did an excellent job on the baptism gown (shut up, I know he's a boy). My feet hurt. My fingers were raw from Clorox Clean Up and dirt. Also, Magic Erasers rock. I made TP go and get me a sinus clearing Spicy Chicken sammich from Wendy's at midnight. Friday I cleaned the kitchen and shopped at Sam's. I even used the flatbed trailer for all my stuffs. Saturday, more cleaning ensued. I saved the best for last - the bathroom. It's the worlds tiniest bathroom, but I reeeaaaaalllllyyyy hate cleaning it.

My sister and her two boys finally got here, and I took Kendall with me to buy beer and ice cream and pick up the potato salad and beans (if you live in Alabama and want some Dreamland potato salad, you can come and get it.) He wanted to push the cart, I tried to help him steer it, and he kept telling me, "I think I can handle it, Gigi."

Then we let them go swimming. Kaden thought that the water was skin eating acid, because if you tried to put him in it, he screamed. Then it rained. And rained. And I took a nap. And it stopped. Spooky, I know. We are such dorks that we kept the radar up on the computer to check for errant showers during the whole party.

TP cooked delicious hamburgers and hot dogs. We drank beer, the kids ran around the yard (TP was going to pick up poop and realized that our shed thieves stole the pooper scooper. Morons.) and we had brownies and ice cream. The cousins wore their matching Wild Child Jammies.

TP and Mr. Cheeks didn't cry when they got the water on the head. And this is the best picture I have had taken of me in 5 years:

Most of us went and ate pizza. The margarita was very appreciated. Thanks Dad!

I took Monday off to recuperate. And the air conditioner quit working. TP came home and jump started it at lunch. A pool friend came and fixed it after he got off from work for FREE! I love FREE!

It was back to work for me today, dammit.

Whole photo set is here.

We made my preacher's top ten activities at our church - ever. Nah nah nah nah na. We beat you in God's house.

*cough* *cough*

I am overcome by the fumes of cleaning products and potting soil. *gasp* *hack* Will report when recovered....*cough*

Houston...

...we have a sleeper. Mr. Cheeks slept from 7:15 pm until 5:00 am.

Not that getting up one time a night was really bad, but the whole! night! is even better! Too bad it wasn't my night. Happy belated Father's Day!

Not in Chronological Order

Saturday, I am still looking back and staring at you all squinty eyed because: What the hell were you thinking, letting me get all wild and crazy with the entirely too much to drink at the wedding? I took a spill on Saturday. (Amalah and I were separated at birth, I swear. Except she got the skinny gene.) In my defense, it was in a dark bathroom, after I had been asleep for and hour and a half, and after consuming copious amounts of wine and champagne. Also, I think the toddler of the house left the toilet seat up. I’m not sure where I fell, but I think it was into the bathtub. I had TP call on Sunday and make sure I didn't do anything other than wake one of the kids up, like break the towel bar off the wall or something – I did not. Embarrassment, shame, apologies, etc, etc.

I'm pretty klutzy and I think some of the bruises are from my earlier errand running, but still.

There was one point during the wedding however, when I needed a camera phone like no person has needed a camera phone before. There was a woman there who had a FEATHER in her ear. One of the 10 inch long leather cord earrings with a feather at the end from the 80’s. Obviously she had no idea that people do not wear feathers in their ears anymore. She did not get the other urgent memo about how you wear a pair of matching earrings, not four random items. But she did have on a black dress and the feather was black. I have to give her some credit for that.

The processional was the music that Mr. Cheeks' bouncy seat plays. I recognized it immediately. Does this make me old?

You know you’re at a fun wedding when the groom’s father, who is on the nerdy side, follows the bride across the dance floor thrusting his hips in her direction to the beat of the music while she is oblivious. Then I drank some more. There was a pregnant bridesmaid who was sitting in the smoking section at the reception, on her second glass of wine. (I'm not of the "DON'T TOUCH A DROP OF ALCOHOL!!!" camp, but if you do it, do it at home; and don't sit in the smoking section.) And then I drank some more.

CAKE REPORT! CAKE REPORT! CAKE REPORT!
B- Made by caterers, not real cake bakers. Good try on the icing, but not delicious. They served cheese soup in communion/shot glasses. Not the best delivery.

It was 9:15 when we left the reception. God, I'm old. Then we went to the friend's house where the bathtub incident occurred. It was not easy to get up and feed Mr. Cheeks at 3:30 am. Nor was it fun to go and keep the nursery the next morning. But I persevered and managed to get out TP's first father's day gifts. (For the record, Mr. Cheeks was at home during all this with my mother, and TP was not drunk, so there was a potentially responsible person around.)

Mr. Cheeks thought the symphony on Friday was fabulous. He listened to the music until the very end. We had some delicious food and some great company:

Tomorrow is my last day at work this week. I'll try and get something done. From one CPA to other CPA's clients: Don't send your stuff in on October 1st (or God forbid, after). Do it now. I don't want to have a mini tax season in September and October. The CPA's of the world thank you.

Baseball, the Sequel

This, this would be why we have a child, people:

so we can do crazy stuff to him while he is sleeping...

This was taken at the Birmingham Barons game last night. TP's floor from his company had everyone and their family out to the ballgame. It was very similar to when my office went, but without the beer, and with way better prizes for attendance. Mr. Cheeks was the tiniest baby there (and come on - the cutest). He got passed around and he managed to drool all over my shirt. We were in the Michael Jordan Pavilion, which was huge and air conditioned, but you couldn't hear the game.

Did you know that Michael Jordan played for the Birmingham Barons? I didn't until this week, when Jeopardy! showcased Birmingham as the city of the day. (Woo Hoo! I knew all the answers!) It was the double Jeopardy! round, and no one got the $2000 clue, which was about Vulcan - whose butt shines over Birmingham every day. Morons. Moving on...

On the way to the stadium, we passed a billboard that said "I pooted." That's it. It was a giant red billboard on the side of interstate 459, with right justified white lettering that said "I pooted." I really wanted to pull over and take a picture, but TP said no. He's regularly no fun. If anyone has a clue as to why this requires a billboard sized announcement, please enlighten me. Maybe it's a clever ploy to get families talking in the car, but do you really want to to talk about gas? Can you imagine that marketing meeting?

"What if we put up a billboard...?"

"That would be so totally cool dude, and someone in the car will read it out loud; 'I pooted', and everyone will all be like, ha ha!" (much hi-fiveing and snickering ensues)

I wonder how long it took for them to decide whether or not to use "fart" instead?

After receiving our complimentary coozie in the shape of a baseball, football, or golf ball; signing up for door prizes and getting Mr. Cheeks his Baron Dog (named "Babe Ruff, " what genius thought that one up?) we waited for the best part - food. It was hamburgers, hot dogs, barbecue, chicken, beans, slaw, potato salad, and surprisingly delicious boxed pie.

The daughter of one of the employees was the singer of the National Anthem, which was fabulous. A good National Anthem gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes every time, and this one did not disappoint.

Commence with the door prize drawing!! I was on the edge of my seat, ready to claim my prize, because if there's more than one, I normally win. Aaaaaaaannnnnnndddd I got a cute T-shirt with the different colored baseball arms, which is excellent to sleep in.

The MJ Pavilion (we're on a first initial basis now), is above the regular stadium seats. What do you think happened when some little boys decided to play with their baseball and miniature bat? Of course, the baseball rolled, ramped off a woman's foot, and went over the edge into the stands. I do not think anyone was hurt. I didn't hear any yelps of pain or cursing, but if I had? It would have been totally cool. The ball was thrown back to the upper deck and returned to the mother's purse, never to be seen again (much like Mike Teevee - "I don't want to go in there!").

Don't ask me who won the ballgame, we left at eight o'clock. It was tied at one when we left. The tie dyed shirts jerseys were just too much for my fashionably minded self, and we had to depart. Attention Barons' stylists: pinstriped pants do not go with tie dye - charity or not. Also, when did baseball players start wearing their pants down to their ankles? I thought they had to wear those knicker things with the stirrups and the tall socks? I can remember JD wearing the socks with the painted on stirrups as a child in little league. Do they not do this anymore?

Thank you company! For the fabulous time! The food, the ice cream, the picture taking opportunity, the door prize, and most of all - material for this look into my semi-exciting life.

Next up: the symphony!

(maybe, if my mom's gay couple friends aren't having another lovers spat. If they are, never fear - Next up:Wedding!)

That's what you get for being so nosy...

"I won't be home at lunch to let the dogs out, I'm going out to eat."

"Where?"

"La Paz"

"Why? Is there a special occasion?"

"Yes, I'm meeting with my divorce lawyer, nosy butt."

Three Things

1. I want to have a prettier less generic blog. I have ordered an HTML book so I can at least know what the hell I am looking at on my template to make a few changes and I'm looking for ideas from other places.

2. I am a whore to Statcounter. If they have a stat counter, I'm in trouble. They probably think I'm a stalker.

3. I'm not sure what I have gotten myself into asking everyone over to our house for dinner next Saturday. There will be 19 adults and 8 kids in my house/on my deck. If it rains, we are in deep shit. I think I'm going to take off three days from work, including the Monday afterward to recuperate. My mother is making funeral corn. Watch out Sam's Club, here I come.

Disaster in the making

Mr. Cheeks' baptism is coming up next weekend. I still have the baptism gown from when I was baptized. Kendall and Kaden wore it when it was their turn. I hope Mr. Cheeks' fat head will fit through the head hole.

We have invited our entire family to come to Birmingham to go to church with us on Sunday, and we are going to have everyone over to our house on Saturday night for dinner. My Mom and Dad have been divorced since I was in college. They are still friends, my Dad dates one of my Mom's best childhood friends and they all get along famously. My sister and her two children will come, and my brother will come from whatever po-dunk festival he is out campaigning at on Saturday.

My aunt (Nan) will also be coming. Hopefully my Dad can go and pick her up and my brother will take her home. This will be the first time she has been out of the state of Arkansas in several years, let alone spent the night away from home. I'm not even sure she has a bag to pack. But those brush rollers will be on board, however she gets here. My parents always had favorites, and I was not one of them. Nan likes me best, and by extension, Mr. Cheeks. I have the clothes (and some very old school PF Flyers) to prove it.

The weekend promises to be full of blogging material - if nothing else, my nephew will provide hours of fun, with classics like, "He's trying to speak Spanish and no one can understand him, so he's getting mad." We haven't even started Dora yet! I have a bilingual 3 month old!

This bottle of wine has totally gone to my head. And Last Comic Standing is on. Too much for my fat head. Too bad I don't slur while blogging.

P.S. I've lost 3 pounds! I may fit into my fabulous baptism clothes yet!