Archive for the 'Thank You Notes' Category

Moo-chas Gracias Graco

July 24, 2008 | Thank You Notes

Last month, I wrote a post about our run away MaGoo car and Jon DeHart, a daddy blogger over at Graco liked it and gave me the Graco Monthly Nod, which was not only a great honor but according to the email, also included a “small” prize.  The small prize turned out to be, indeed, small.  Small and adorable, yes? 

I just got these in the mail today!  These are itty bitty 1×3 business cards from a company called Moo over in England.  They have tons of fun stock images to choose from or you can upload your own as I did.  Unfortunately, my camera distorted the color so you can’t see that it exactly matches the background to my blog.  I love’em, I do and can’t wait to give one to somebody.

Thanks Jon for the nod and Graco for the Moo cards!

Wow

February 15, 2008 | Medical Mysteries, Thank You Notes

Y’all are amazing.  And oddly enough, given to violence. I had no idea so many of my gentle readers would be willing to break someone’s legs on my behalf.  I am honored.  And little fightened.  I’m kidding as I know y’all are too.  You ARE kidding, right?

I do want to thank you all for your prayers and positive thoughts.  Your prayers were the currents under my wings that kept me aloft these past few days.

Anyway, clarifications and updates are in order.

First for clarification — and this is all newly learned information for me.  Blood sugar and urine sugar are not the same.  You should have sugar in your blood, something around 70-110. You should not have sugar in your urine.  If you do (from what I understand at this point and I am NOT an expert) the sugar is spilling over from your kidneys or pancreas which could indicate diabetes or something else.

So then, the first urine test Sean took was accurate.  A sugar count of 2000 is extreeeemly high and a reason to be concerned.  However, his blood sugar was at 85, which you can’t get any more normal than that.  And none of the other markers for diabetes were present in his blood. 

And now for the update:  We went back to the “real” doctor on Thursday and he still had sugar in his urine, but it was down to 250 from 2000, which is elevated but not insane.  But the doctor was stumped. He said he had no idea what was going on and that it was probably one of those one-time mystery medical events for which we will never have an explanation. 

The doctor suggested that we cut all additional sugars out of his diet — sodas, candy, pastries — and then come back in for another urine test this coming week.  The upside to this event is that it was the kick in the pants we needed here at the House of Antique to get the refined sugar out of our diet, something we are all going to do.  In the meantime, I am going to test his urine myself at home and hopefully see that number decline.

Now here’s a tip: Do NOT go on WebMD and start researching all the reasons you might have sugar in your urine because it will not make you feel better.  I did, and I learned that Sean could either be pregnant or have a brain tumor. 

Aw Shucks!

February 1, 2008 | Perfect Post, Thank You Notes

Lexi who writes Hooked On Espresso nominated me for a Perfect Post award for this post that I wrote last month.  I wouldn’t even mention it but Marlboro Man is making me. Oh wait. That’s not right.  No, I’m mentioning it because I am thrilled and I am honored. Thank you so much Lexi. 

You can find the other January nominees here. 

  * * * * *

In other news, a fireplace makeover going on at Inspired Spaces today.

What Goes Around

November 12, 2007 | Texas, Thank You Notes

One day, about 25 years ago, not too long after I had moved to Texas from the mid-west, I went to the grocery store to get a few necessities.  I was about 22-years-old.  I aspired to be dirt poor. To say that I was struggling would be an understatement.

Into my cart, I put the very few carefully chosen things I could afford – a small carton of milk, a loaf of day old bread, off-brand toothpaste and a small box of feminine products.  I put my groceries onto the conveyer and watched the cashier ring up each item, making sure she hadn’t rung up anything for one penny more than it cost.  I don’t remember what the total was.  I do remember reaching into my purse for my checkbook and not finding it. And then realizing I had left it at home.  I remember the sensation of disbelief and then panic wash down my spine like lighter fluid.

I began scrounging through my purse looking for enough money to cover my groceries, although I don’t know why.  I was as likely to have a kangaroo in my purse as I was to have enough cash to pay for my groceries.

As I was frantically digging through my purse willing money to materialize, I felt the spark of life begin to flicker and wane.  That little spark that I had been tenderly protecting for months, that spark that had burned just bright enough to beat back the loneliness and kept me convinced that I could make it in Texas, that little spark that was going to prove to all those people back home that they were wrong about me – that little spark was all but out.

It had been a hard, hard year and for some reason the missing checkbook seemed like a big bucket of water aimed right at my spark.  I was trying so very hard to be a grown up and I was failing.  I felt like crumpling into a heap onto the grocery store floor and crying my eyes out.

I looked at the cashier and tried to work up the nerve to tell her that I had no money, that I would have to come back for my stuff. She looked at me with her arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised expectantly, as though she had seen this before.

Then the lady in line behind me handed the cashier $10.

“It would bless me to do this small thing for you,” she said to me. “Please. Allow me.  This money means nothing to me.”

She looked into my face for consent.  Her expression was hopeful and happy. She nodded her head yes.

I sighed and hung my head in shame.  And then I nodded agreement.  I was grateful. I was embarrassed.  If I had allowed my voice into my throat at that moment, I would have begun sobbing uncontrollably.  With big fat tears threatening to spill, I simply smiled at her and mouthed the words thank you.

After I composed myself and collected my bag of groceries, I offered to mail her a check but she waved me off, telling me to keep my chin up and have a nice day.

Recently, when I was in the grocery store, that memory came flooding back.  It was early in the day when the only shoppers in the store are the AARP mafia and a few other moms.  I got the things I needed and then got in line behind a young gal.  I watched her methodically put each item on the conveyer, carefully checking the price, doing math in her head.

After her purchases were rung up, she counted out her cash to the cashier.  And then she looked at the total and counted it again. Something wasn’t right.  And then she began rummaging through her purse.  “Oh no,” she said, “I thought I had another $10 in my purse.” She kept rummaging while at the same time glancing back at her groceries to see what she could put back.

I recognized the look of panic on her face. I saw in her that her spark and her spirit had been tested.  I reached into my purse and handed the cashier $10.

“Please,” I said, “It would bless me if you will allow me to do this for you.”

“Oh no,” she said, “I couldn’t.”

“Please,” I persisted.  “I must.”

And it was true. It was as if I had no choice in the matter. I had to.

“Well thank you,” she said.  “I don’t know what to say.  It’s been really hard…” and then her voice trailed off.

“I understand,” I said. And I did understand.

She gathered up her bags and then turned and smiled at me. She thanked me again.

“Have a nice…” Then I stopped.

Have a nice day didn’t seem fitting.

”Have a nice life,” I said.

“I will,” she said, “You too.”

I am having a nice life.  When you grow up to to be the lady in the grocery store who is lucky enough to get to pay it forward once in a while, that’s a nice life.

A Perfect Post!

January 3, 2007 | Thank You Notes

Photo Temporarily Unavailable

My post! Someone think’s it’s perfect! And it’s not even MY mother! It’s MommaK — the mother of the Perfect Post awards!

Go there now and see all the other perfectly fabulous December posts. And stay awhile — because today? I got nothing! I’m relishing folks, I’m just going to lay around and relish my perfectpostedness. And scratch myself. And eat corn. Or something.

Click the button below to go MommaK’s Perfect Post page and see which post she chose.

When It’s All Good

December 7, 2006 | Thank You Notes

Me: Sean, pick one.
Sean: I want all of ‘em.
Me: I know, but just pick one.
Sean: I want all of them.
Me: I know. But you can only have one. Pick one.
Sean: I want all of them.
Me: Well, you can either pick one or have none of them.
Sean: I pick all of them.
Me: sigh.

 * * *

Earlier this week, I found out from Boo Mama who is up on all things current (except for where her finials are) that she and Big Mama and I have been nominated for the Most Humorous Blog over at Christian Women OnLine. I wish I could describe to you how it feels to be in the company of these two very funny, very lovely southern sisters. It feels marvewonderfabulicious. That’s how it feels.

It also makes me feel like Sean. I pick all of them.

Lookee Me!

August 26, 2006 | Thank You Notes

Yesterday my blog traffic sky rocketed and so did my spirits which heretofore had been broiled, grilled, blackened and served up Cajun-style by the summer heat.

After I checked my site meter referrals did some investigative research using my deductive reasoning and sleuthing skills, I discovered that I had won the prestigeous and “totally important and not-fake JCMHSGBAOE” award which is short for the John Cougar Mellencamp Hurts So Good Blog Award of Excellence given out by the fabulous Amalah over at Club Mom.

And you know what the real honor is? That I was nominated by Veronica Mitchell of Toddled Dredge – a truly excellent writer with substantial things to say. Thanks Veronica!

Thanks!

July 3, 2006 | Thank You Notes

If I had put my mother on the case, I would have known last week that it was the lovely Owlhaven and Toddled Dredge that nominated my “Ode To Mary Tyler Moore” post for a Perfect Post award. (Is there a limit to how many links one can put in a single sentence?) Due to my limited access to the internet and not my semi-natural blonde tendencies, it took me several days to find out who had this lapse of judgement and then a full week to get around to sending a thank you note. In the south, the only thing worse than not getting a thank you note out on time is putting dark meat in your chicken salad. It’s just bad form.

Veronica Mitchell who writes Toddled Dredge is so smart and funny and reads lots and lots books (and not the cardboard kind either) and uses words that the rest of us would have to look up and even knows what they mean, so you can imagine how honored I was that she thought anything I had to say was noteworthy! And Owlhaven - she has like 26 kids or something and is so pretty and never sticks her foot in the toilet, so again, that she would bother with my little blog - I am astonished and grateful all at the time time!

Thank you thank you for the nomination ladies. You have put wind in my sails!

If you haven’t been to Owlhaven or Toddled Dredge, treat yourself and go now!

Somewhere In The Middle…

June 30, 2006 | Thank You Notes

of the country is where I am this week.

Sean and I are visiting my parents this week in central Illinois. For me, it has meant less computer time and more gazebo and book reading time. For Sean, it has meant time spent with seldom seen cousins and aunts and uncles and unlimited popsicles and rides in the wheelbarrow. There is nothing my parents will not do to amuse the prince. Nothing. Next week, it means undoing all Wivian and Papa Ed’s (Grandma and Grandpa) doing.

My mom is graciously allowing me to use her computer and dial-up internet connection which is so lovely of her to do so, but my goodness! S-L-O-W-! Anyway I’ve been checking in on your blogs this week but her computer and Juno won’t let me comment — I see you but you don’t see me!

I see from my email that someone nominated my Ode To MTM for a Perfect Post! Thank you thank you whomever you are! Unfortunately I probably won’t be able to track you down and thank you properly until I’m home on my own computer.

I’ve got to go take the matches away from Sean and untie Papa Ed right now. Look for me right here on Monday. In the meantime, why not check out Best of Antique Mommy? The link is in the sidebar.

I’m Mom of the Week!

May 23, 2006 | Thank You Notes

Hey I was voted Mom of the Week over at Crazy Hip Blog Mamas! Thanks Mom for stuffing the ballot box to everyone who voted for me. I am astonished honored that you would choose someone like me. Hurry go look before they change their mind!!

Happy New Year!

January 1, 2006 | Always Real, Thank You Notes

I don’t have a list of New Year’s resolutions or goals for the coming year. Because I think I’ve got it all together? No. Far from it. I just don’t see the point of making a list that doesn’t have groceries on it.

2006 will bring what it will bring, list or no list. I do hope that 2006 is a tsunami-free year. I hope there will be fewer hurricanes, or at least kinder, gentler hurricanes than in 2005. I hope we get some rain here in North Texas. Soon. I hope 2006 brings a lot more of our brave soldiers home from around the world. I hope that the right and left in our country can set the example for the world and our children and play nice together. I hope that 2006 will keep my family and friends and you my dear readers, safe and healthy (and reading!!)

Ooops. That looks like a list. Better add milk.

Happy New Year!

Hot Dog!

December 25, 2005 | Mildly Amusing, Thank You Notes

Photo Temporarily Unavailable

 “Hot Dog!” — The most honest expression of Christmas joy heard all season exclaimed by Sean upon opening a box containing Crayola Color Wonder markers, paints, paper and coloring book from Aunt Jane, Uncle Jim and Cousins Scott and Cody (or Cot and Sody as Sean says).

“Way cool!” — The second most honest expression of Christmas joy heard all season exclaimed by me when I read the words “Mess Free” on the packaging. Thanks Jane!

Photo: Sean is hoping that Mommy got some Crayola Color Wonder stuff too!

The Prodigal Monkey

December 11, 2005 | Thank You Notes

This year’s winner of the first annual “Antique Mommy’s Spirit of Christmas” award goes to Margie, the owner of the condo in Destin, Florida where this past September, we spent our first family beach vacation.

Each year the AMSOC winner will be selected from a list of worthy nominees who at some point in the year endeavor to pull Antique Mommy’s behind out of the proverbial sling. Extra consideration is given to those who manage to refrain from exlaiming in disbelief “You did WHAT?” and/or calling CPS. This year, it was hard to choose just one from the long list of nominees, but Margie was clearly the hands-down winner.

After ten days at the beach in September, we returned home exhausted and with only one black eye amongst us, so all in all we felt our first family beach vacation was a success — until we started unpacking and trying to get our sleepy boy into bed. “Muhn-ee! Muhn-ee!” Sean demanded rubbing his non-black eye. We looked through all the bags and the car several times before panic set in. Panic quickly turned to nausea when we had to face the grim reality that Mr. Monkey was still on vacation in Florida — or worse, riding around in an airplane alone and unarmed with Clorox Wipes. Gulp! Of all the things to leave behind — what kind of mother would do such a thing? If a license were required to be a mother (and maybe there should be) mine would have been revoked on the spot.

Out of sheer exhaustion, Sean fell asleep with Snoopy, an understudy, and I immediately went on-line to try to track down another Mr. Monkey. After several hours it became apparent Mr. Monkey was on the endangered species list and there were none left anywhere in the galaxy at any price. In a last desperate attempt, I found an email address for Margie, the condo owner, whom I had never met or even spoken with, and I threw myself on her mercy. I asked her if there was anyone there in Florida who would look to see if Mr. Monkey was still there somewhere in the condo. If not, then we could be at peace that Mr. Monkey was never coming home and begin looking for responsible people to raise our child.

Before the light of dawn, Margie (who lives no where near Florida) emailed me back promising to send out a search and rescue team to look for Mr. Monkey. She said that she was a mother too and that when her daughter was little, she had a special stuffed unicorn, and that she understood my predicament. Several days later, the prodigal monkey returned home courtesy of Margie and the US Postal Service. When I opened that little box and saw that raggedy well-loved monkey it brought tears to my eyes. When Sean saw it he clutched it to his chest and in a low manly voice chattered “ooo-ooo-oooh!” like a little machine gun. And then he looked up at me and smiled like I’m the one who orders the sun to shine and not the one who couldn’t keep track of his special friend.

With nothing in it for herself, Margie went to the trouble to make a big difference in our small world. And she did not even once give in to blurting “You did WHAT?” And so Margie, you are the recipient of the first-ever AMSOC award. Congratulations!

Photo temporarily unavailable.

Pay It Forward

September 7, 2005 | Texas, Thank You Notes

So much has been written and said about Hurricane Katrina, that I hardly think I have anything more to offer on that topic in terms of how things went so horribly wrong and who is to blame. What I do have to say is how proud I am of my adopted home, the great state of Texas and the many Texans (naturalized or native) who have stepped up to the plate to care for the suffering. We are a big state with big hair, big hats, big ideas, occasionally big mouths, but most of all, big hearts. I am not surprised in the least by the outpouring of help because this was the same response I received when I moved here 24 years ago.

Way back in 1981, before many of my fellow mommy’s were even born, I moved to Dallas, Texas from the cornfields of the mid-west. I was 21-years-old and greener than the green beans my son lobs at me at the dinner table. I had been working for an insurance company and when an opening in the Dallas agency opened up, I jumped on it and transferred to Dallas. When I say transfer, I don’t want you to get the idea that they paid to move me and set me up. What I mean is that they said, hey, if you’re crazy enough to move to God-forsaken Texas, then we’ll pay you minimum wage when you get there.

When you’re 21, you are long on hope and dreams and short on wisdom and cash. So it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I loaded up my Honda Civic with what little I had and set off to become a Texan. I vividly remember the January day I was packing all my worldly belongings into my little car. As I was carrying a box down the icy, snowy steps of my parent’s house, I slipped and slid all the way down on my back, bumping my head on each step until I finally came to rest completely under the car. I had figuratively and literally hit bottom. As I was lying there on the dirty snow looking up at the underside of my car, I knew I was doing the right thing.

After I arrived in Texas and got my apartment and paid my rent and my phone bill and utilities, I had exactly $8.43 for two-weeks. But I never felt more wealthy. Everyone I met extended kindness, encouragement and offers to help. And they meant it. A lady who worked for the company in the next office nearly every day would bring by a meal that she said was left over, which I kind of always doubted. “Nell, you mean to tell me this entire roasted chicken and corn casserole is leftover?” I’d ask. She’d wave both her hands like she was shooing away chickens and say, “It’ll just go to waste, honey, now you take it home and put it in the fridge.” I never went hungry thanks to kindness of Nell and many others like her.

I’ve been the recipient of Texas hospitality more times than I can remember in the past 24 years. I hope that maybe I’ve passed a little of that along to others somewhere along the way. Sometimes on the hardest, hottest, most miserable of Texas days, I’ll think back to that January day when I was laying under my car in my parent’s driveway and I remind myself that I did the right thing in coming here. These are my people and this is where I’m supposed to be.

Generation Baby Gap or Baby Gap Generation

September 1, 2005 | Sometimes Tart, Thank You Notes

I went to a baby shower recently for the daughter of a friend of mine. My friend, The Grandmother, is anxiously awaiting her first grandchild. A multi-generational collection of women had gathered to shower the mother-to-be with mostly useless, but cute, teeny tiny baby thingees. At the unveiling of each precious little thing, everyone in the room would coo in unison, “Oooooh!” followed by chorus round of, “Isn’t that just adorable? That is just adorable! That is entirely too cute! Let me see that! Pass it around!”

As I sat there ooooh-ing and cooing and munching on gospel-prescribed baby shower fare (that would be white cake, punch, mixed nuts and pastel butter mints) I looked around the room and noticed that two separate and distinct worlds had convened in this one living room. And I was awkwardly straddling both.

On the one foot, I related to my friend, The Grandmother. We were close in age and shared a common obsession with HGTV. Our friends had names like Terry, Debbie, Linda and Cindy. On the other foot, I related to the younger gals who were just starting their families and worried about important issues like can Jen and Brad ever get back together? They had names like Ashley, Tiffany, Kelly and Brittney. We had pierced ears. They had pierced navels. What the older moms called diapers, the younger moms called burp cloths. We wore shirts that covered the area where our abs used to be. They had abs. I know this because I saw them when I was gawking at their navel rings. The younger moms named their babies after dead presidents — Kennedy, Tyler, Jackson, Madison, Taylor. The women my age had named their babies Ashley, Tiffany, Kelly and Brittney.

As I was eavesdropping on the younger mom’s conversation, I couldn’t help but overhear one of them talk about going to the mall on the way home from the hospital after having her baby. I presume to return some of the many cute-but-useless things she had gotten at her shower. I, on the other hand, did not take my baby out in public until he was four-months-old and then I kept him covered with a blanket the entire time we were out. I could have had a puppy in the carrier for all anyone knew. Anyone not clean enough to perform surgery who dared to peek under that blanket might come away with a few less fingers if the laser beams shooting from my eyes didn’t vaporize them first. We carried Clorox wipes and surgical masks in our diaper bag. You think I’m kidding, don’t you?

In spite of the many differences between the younger moms and the older moms, I realized that regardless of age, all mothers want the same thing: healthy, happy, well-adjusted children. Well, maybe the next generation will have better luck with that one.

Oh, and by the way, I got a nice thank you note in the mail the other day. It reads: Dear Antique Mommy, Thank you so much for the little pink baby thingee. It’s just adorable. Little Madison will enjoy it. Did you get it at the mall? Love, Brittney.