As Meat Day goes (aka Mother's Day)...this was a great one. Lawyer girl flew in from LA so we could celebrate a half decade of our favorite tradition together. To commemorate the event, I have some Meat Day wisdom for you...because what happens on Meat Day stays on Meat Day.
Obnoxious table manners are not only allowed but appreciated, because plastic spoons make great monocles.
Contrary to what Pink Floyd sang...you CAN eat your pudding even if you don't eat your meat.
Let's just say the proof is in the pudding!
Teeange boys can eat A LOT...be prepared for glossy eyes and Meat Day hangover.
Anything goes as far as Meat Day attire, you can even dress in green plaid just like your Dad. But make sure you have an expandable waistband. "Eatin' pants" are mandatory!
No one keeps track of how many deserts you have, or that your Nanna gave you a bowl full of sprinkles for desert.
Allow lots of grandbaby snuggle time after dinner. I can only hold 60 pounds of baby for about 2 minutes before my arms go numb.
A nice relaxing stroll through the field after dinner is always nice!
Do make sure you accessorize properly. A vintage blue handbag works perfectly.
Try not to overexert yourself after the big meal...unless you're 15...then go ahead and do whatever you want!
And most of all, surround yourself with great people on Meat Day. The Boy One, the Blond One and the Brown One are not only intelligent, witty, compassionate people...they are my people. And if you look closely you'll see the spirit of The Red One in each of us. Our smiles, our laughter, and our souls sing with her voice! Happy Meat Day to all!
I've been called a lot of things in my life...Freddy by my high school buddies, Momma by my own kiddos, Mrs Garlick (so weird when I heard it for the first time), Sister, Daughter, Aunt, Honey, Weirdo, Punk, etc.
But these little people...
they call me Nanna. It's my all-time favorite name. In return, Bubba and I call these two the Booboos...and a week with these sweet cherubs is a Booboo palooza.
This is what happens when Bubba is in charge of the Booboos while I take a very quick shower...he must have "dog whisperer" like skills.
I was literally only out of the room for 15 minutes when I found them both asleep on the floor at 9:00 in the morning.
Mealtime with the babies is quite an event. I would just stand between the two highchairs and hand out food to the one demanding it the loudest. Henry the little monkey eats more bananas in a day than a zoo full of primates.
And oh mama mia...Olivia can slurp/wear pasta and breadsticks better than any Italian baby you'll ever see.
Our Booboo palooza included many trips to the chicken coop to gather eggs and speak chicken-eze with the girls in the hen house. Henry and Olivia learned to repeat what the chicken says "back back" and what the bee says "zzzz".
Henry resorted to crawling to the coop. His newly walking legs found it difficult to maneuver through the blades of grass on the steep hillside leading to the chickens.
Of course I spoil the Booboos...that's a Nanna's prerogative.
If you look back at the days we spent together you would note that I didn't accomplish a single thing other than playing with these little people. Daily walks to the park, picnics with friends, tea parties, ball games, dancing, eating, and giggling filled our days.
And I can hardly wait for our next Booboo palooza!
The fine wispy-blond locks of hair falling at various uneven lengths around his soft small head are an excellent indication that he is still a baby. But it was time for a first haircut.
Great Grandpa Owen has been giving first haircuts for over 60 years including little Henry's own Bubba Dean. There have been a variety of people who have sat in Owen's big barber chair over the years...big ones, small ones, important ones, hairy ones, not-so-hairy ones.
But the most memorable ones would have to be the little ones. All that means nothing to disheartened Henry as sharp scary scissors come snipping his direction.
Ever so gently Grandpa Owen speaks to Henry as he begins the process of changing the baby into a little boy. With every movement of his seasoned scissors Grandpa whispers "Snip, snip, snip", gradually calming Henry's fears and apprehension.
Hugging Nana doesn't hurt either.
I'm confident this is not the first crying customer Owen has ever had in his chair as he doesn't seem one bit distracted by Henry's outward disapproval.
With tear-stained cheeks Henry's breaths calm. He will never remember that his Great Grandfather gave him his first haircut...that his Nana held him tight to ease his fears while his Bubba snapped photos to document the event. But we will.
Neither Owen, Bubba or Nanna will forget his generational haircut...from Great Grandfather to Great Grandson!
But Henry might remember being loved by Nanna on the day he grew from a baby to a little man with just a few snips of his soft baby locks.
General Chao broke the news. Every time the hens go into the hen house to lay an egg in the favorite nest box...
there sits Mother Clucker...morning, noon, and night! She's gone broody. This hen's hormonal motherly instinct to hatch eggs has taken over and there is basically nothing to be done about it. She just wants to be left alone and sit on her imaginary eggs until they hatch...about 3 weeks.
And the rest of the girls are ready to vote her out of the coop. The first day of Mother Clucker's broody state, the other chickens were literally waiting in line for her to get out of that nest box.
When I open the nest box door to daily remove the eggs, this is all I see. Broody hens pick out their belly feathers so their warm skin lays directly on the eggs. Mother Clucker continually ruffles out her outer feathers so she looks BIGGER and meaner to predators and other chickens. She has not laid an egg since she started her broody habit.
Once or twice a day she comes down to eat, drink, and poop. While she's gone, another hen will lay an egg in the favorite box. Even though we don't have a rooster to fertilize the eggs, she will immediately lay on the other hen's egg until I remove them too! But on most days...she lays on an empty nest.