Do me a favor...
October 29, 2007

and cool it with the hate mail. If you don't like my blog, then don't waste your precious time reading it. And if you don't like my blog enough to write to me about it, then I really urge you to stop reading it.

Here are my new rules:

If you're not entertained by a frazzled mother of a tricky little two-year-old, then exit the premises.

If you don't like bathroom talk, then stop taking the joy out of my life and just step away.

If you don't like the idea of a Mormon who uses words like "crap" and "sha-diz-nit" and "butt-head" the go elsewhere.

If you think that Red Sox fans are over-the-top and partly insane, then go find a blog that belongs to a Devil Rays devotee.

And for heaven's sake, if you want to make fun of my completely innocent husband, then find your closest middle school, make some pals, and talk to your friends about it--NOT TO ME.

Please, just stop reading this blog.

But for all of you who enjoy The Lawsons do Dallas! and send me kind and happy emails, I sure do appreciate it! They really make my day.

Sweet Relief
October 29, 2007
Congratulations to the Boston Red Sox, who rolled over the Colorado Rockies in the 2007 World Series.

And congratulations to me, who accurately predicted that it would only take four games to stuff the National League's best ball-club into the proverbial recycling bin and send 'em to the processing plant.

Let me take a moment to recap some highlights of the series for all you non-baseball watchers who read this blog.

Highlights of Game 1, 2, 3 and 4:
The Rockies stunk, like ridiculously bad. Just a bunch of pansies wearing a strange shade of purple and some faux-sleeveless jerseys that were way cool in 1994--or whenever in the hell that team was established. -end of report-

There. I kept it short, as not to bore any non-sporting types.

Most of the time, when a team loses a big game, I feel a great deal of compassion for the fans. I can't help it, I'm a Red Sox fan and all Red Sox fans know the absolute heartbreak that comes along with losing. But last night was diferent. I felt no love for the Rockie's fans, not a single-little-friggin' ounce.

Why not? Because of HDTV, that's why not.

We watched game four at our friends' house. They don't have a rabbit ear antennae zip-tied to a coat hanger dangling from their living room window like we do--they have a plasma screen, and holy heck, that thing is awesome. Needless to say, we appreciated the invitation.

You could see individual blades of grass, the pitcher's facial stubble, and the one-day-old hats that that all the Rockies fans seemed to be sporting. The picture on their TV was so exceptional that it was easy to tell that 99% of the fans' t-shirts had never been through a spin cycle. We even saw two jackets with the tags still attached. I guess it's easier to return your newly purchased team gear after a loss if the bar code is still in tact.

Give me a freaking break. These people are not fans, they're nothing but a bunch of bandwagoning butt-heads. They're so new to the game that the Jumbotron said TOUCHDOWN after they hit a home run and no one even blinked. How's that for baseball fanatics?

So welcome aboard Rockie's fans. Welcome to the list of "fans" (and I use that term in the most casual sense of the word) that I really almost hate. It's you and the Yankees, and I'll caution you now-- Any old Yankees fan could knock your block off with one easy swing of her personalized brass knuckles. And really? I kind of wish they would.

GO SOX!

(sorry to be so harsh, I just can't help the way I feel)

Amy McSweatpants

October 27, 2007

It's official. I'm legally changing my name. To Amy McSweatpants. I've been considering this shift for almost two-and-a-half years, but yesterday I decided to file the paperwork.

Here's why:

Friday morning I showed up at my babysitting job around eight o'clock. As soon as I stepped inside the front door, Garfield's* mom held up a very attractive sweatsuit. It was bright red, sized 2T, and bore the logo of the Canadian store Roots.

She was like, "Do you want this sweatsuit? Garfield got it for his birthday, but it's way too big."

OF COURSE I wanted the sweatsuit. Actually, I wanted to rip it out of her grubby little hands, stuff it into the deepest corner of my backpack, and peel out of her driveway...you know, just in case she changed her mind.

But I resisted my primal urge and politely replied, "Wow, it's great! Don't you want to hang on to it? Garfield will grow into it."

"No, no. That's ok. We want James to have it."

I followed that up with another "oh no, I couldn't possibly" kind of comment (just to maintain my calm n' cool image), and I watched her face fall into a look of disappointment. She let out a quick, deep breath and carefully replied, "Well, the thing is, Garfield doesn't really wear sweatsuits. But you guys? You are a sweatsuit family."

Ok friendly readers, I want you to reread that last line.

Now read it again.

We've not been labeled as a vacationing family, or an adventurous family, or a fun-loving family. We weren't called a game-playing family or a photogenic family. Hell, we weren't even recognized as a churchy family....

The Lawsons are a sweatsuit family. How flattering.

As I accepted the generous donation gift from my boss, my thoughts spiraled off..."Why would she think that? How did we become a sweatsuit family?"

But my frantic thought pattern was quickly interrupted by James tugging at my pant leg. I immediately shifted my attention to my kid, because I really didn't want him to accidentally pull my britches down. That's not hard to do, considering the fact that my sweatpants have a worn-out elastic waistband.

Yes, I was wearing sweatpants. A five-year-old gray pair from my college bookstore.

And James? He was vying for my attention because he had spilled orange juice on his lap. And he wanted me to sop up the mess before it ruined a perfectly good pair of--yes, you guessed it--sweatpants. He was sporting a pair, too.

And that, my dear friends, is why I'm changing my name to Amy B. McSweatpants.

*Remember, names have been changed to protect the innocent.

He Puts Me to Shame
October 25, 2007

Does your spouse ever leave you looking like some common breed of fungus growing on the inside of a sewer grate?

Mine does.

Actually, he did it to me this morning. Sure I subject him to a brief moment of public humiliation every now and again, but what Jared did today was just, I don't know, over the top?

This morning, I left my husband alone for one hour...sixty-five minutes to be exact. Here's how it all went down:

For some reason Jared didn't need to be at school until lunchtime today. So around eight o'clock I tiptoed into our bedroom, tapped him on the sleeping shoulder and said, "Hey. I'm going to Target. I've got to buy some tights for James."

His eyes creaked open and he was like, "Whaaa?"

"Yeah. The people who read my blog said I should put James in some tights for Halloween. He doesn't have any, so I'm going to the store to buy some."

"Oh my gosh. Ok Amy."

"I'll be back in an hour. Can you get James out of bed when he starts to sing We are the Champions? That's how you'll know he's up for the day."

"By Queen?"

"Yeah."

"Where'd he learn that song?"

"In the nursery at church."

And then he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

When I returned from Target one hour later, I walked into the house fully expecting to find a sleeping husband, and my toddler, doing naked jumping jacks in his crib, with a few splashes of urine on the wall--you know, just for an added touch.

But instead, I found: one toddler with a full belly wearing a very clean diaper, no trace of breakfast dishes, an empty dishwasher, piles of neatly folded laundry, and religious hymns playing softly on the radio.

Jared gave me a smile and in an I'M LOOKING FOR APPROVAL kind of tone he asked, "Sooooooo, what do ya think????"

"Ummmm," I replied. "I think you're making me look bad." Because honestly? I would have spent that hour picking my nose and watching The Today Show.

I should go out more often.

Random Thoughts for the Day

October 24, 2007

Well, I'm off to work in a few minutes, and I can't blog from my corporate office, so let me leave you with a few random thoughts for the day:

1. My running partner kicked my trash in our workout this morning. She was plain old awesome. Go Sarah!

2. James has been running around all morning, repeating the same phrase over and over: NO MOMMY! I NOT EAT DA POOP! As if I would ever feed my child doo-doo...geesh. He also keeps telling me that the color of my car is 'blue and dirty.' Whatev.

3. Tonight is game one of the World Series. To be quite honest, I'm not even a tiny bit afraid of the Colorado Rockies. The American League was far superior to the National League this entire season, and it's really gonna show. Also, the Rockies are on a ridiculous winning streak. Statistically speaking, they've got to lose soon--so it may as well be to us. GO SOX!

4. James just unraveled an entire, brand new roll of dental floss and tangled it around Gracie's tail. The dog didn't seem to care, and it kept James quiet for almost fourteen minutes. I love dental floss.

And finally, I'll end with a question:

5. Until two days ago, the temperature in North Texas was hovering around ninety degrees. All of the sudden, it's dropped into the fifties and sixties. How in the world is my two-year-old supposed to dress like Richard Simmons for Halloween if it's fifty degrees outside? The guy wears next to nothing, so I was counting on some warmer temperatures. Help me here--what is a good cool weather costume that incorporates an afro? It MUST incorporate the afro, I've been growing it out just for this.

Have a great day, friends!