West Texas Mama

     Recently, Muzzy and Oso taught their darling grandchildren the Slugbug Game.   Yep, the same people who used to light up my and my sister’s hineys for slugging each other just taught their grandchildren to play a game historically known for its celebration of violence.      (If you are unfamiliar with this game, in the original version, should you spot a Volkswagon Bug car, you shout out "slugbug!" and hit or "slug" whomever you are with.  It's great family fun and a perfect example of Americana.  Or something like that.)      In an effort to minimize the odds of Jake or Emma being kicked out of school for fighting, we’ve modified the game to just calling out “Slugbug!” and the color.   Emma, pretty girl that she is, claims every slugbug that everyone else sees as her own.   Jake has decided that spotting slugbugs should be a team sport – and whomever is ahead is automatically on his team. ...

     Working in the education industry, one interacts a lot with parents and children.  El Hubbo and I have NUMEROUS stories - some humorous, some sad, some downright ridiculous.  We were both, fortunately, raised by parents who encouraged our independence.  Today's child is more often coddled and protected by fierce "helicopter parents".       I have decided I want my own club.   The Survival of the Fittest Child Rearing Club.    To earn membership, you must demonstrate the ability to allow your children to (1)learn from failure, (2) experience the glories of dirt, and (3) earn their keep around the house.       Learning from failure may include watching your child fall down concrete steps at a softball game.  If you can look at your child, quickly assess that there are no broken bones and only minimal blood, and say, "Ah, brush it off.  There's ...

I’ve neglected my blogging responsibilities, and I’ve missed you, dear readers, but not enough to deny myself the many pleasures of the local fair.   I affectionately refer to this time of year as “Corn Dog Week”, and many were consumed.   But that is not all that one may gain from frequent and regular attendance to this celebration of all things fried and weird. There are many thank yous I should give to those who make my fair experiences worth-while.   Thank you, older ladies in strapless shirts who believe you rock the tight jeans.   You make me feel much better about my modest, age-appropriate attire that frees my mind from worry over wardrobe malfunctions or the overt ogling of toothless carnival workers. Carnival employees, to your many ranks I owe much.   Thank you to the game booth attendant who knocked the rust off my ability to do complicated calculations in my head and challenge him on exactly how much I really owed him in order to get my darling son...

     A little background info is needed for this one. You should know that I am an Aggie. Texas A&M University has my heart. El Hubbo is a Raider. I live in Lubbock, and job opportunities being what they are, I work for Texas Tech University. (Much to El Hubbo’s delight.) I have nothing against Texas Tech – it is a fine educational institution, and it pays me well and keeps me off the streets.      El Hubbo and I have a basic agreement to not talk badly about the other’s alma mater. Which we try to honor as best we can. (We have both slipped up in the past.) And, we agree that college choice will be each kid’s decision to make. We can agree that we prefer they go to whichever one offers the most scholarship money. (Hey, can you really blame us?)      That being said – this was too funny of an event to pass up writing about. We go to dinner following Bible class last night, and El Hubbo asked Jake about school. This week ...

My parents have remained relatively unscathed from my blog. That is about to change. We loaded the family up and travelled north to Amarillo for the weekend. My cousin was getting married, and we hadn’t been to see my parents for awhile. I headed home from work and packed up the kids and the dog and loaded everything in the car. We couldn’t leave until late, so I had the kids in their pajamas and set them up with a movie in the backseat (a portable DVD player is a truly wonderful invention and blessing from God.) A quick spin through the Starbucks for a pumpkin latte, and I was good to go. A nighttime road trip used to be commonplace. All I needed was for someone to say “let’s go!”, and I grabbed the keys and off we went. Now it takes an extra-strong coffee with tons of sugar to get me two hours down the road at 10 o’clock at night. I drove out to El Hubbo’s school to pick him up. El Hubbo had to work “security” for the high school football game – which is why we were leaving so...

So, yesterday we were to return to see Dr. Bacon for El Hubbo’s hip.   We made it to the parking lot of the doctor’s office building with minimal arguing.   We got on the elevator with many other people and realized once the door closed that neither one of us remembered which floor Dr. Bacon’s office was on.   El Hubbo was nearer the door, so as it opened on the next floor, he tried to hurriedly read the signs outside to see if we had arrived or not.   I mentioned to El Hubbo that Dr. Bacon had the same name as my OB/GYN.   He didn’t think it humorous when I suggested it would be funny if we showed up at the wrong doctor’s office.   Once we successfully navigated our way to Dr. Bacon’s office and checked in, I sat and studied the room.   Unlike last time it was filled with patients – all of the elderly-persuasion.   I watched them come and go and jockey for position with their walkers and wheelchairs.   El Hubbo asked me what I was thinking ...

1.  Hello, Mr Appliance Installer with tattoos of demons all over your forearms.  Very nice to meet you, please don't kill me. 2.  So sorry for the 5 years of dust and lint under the old washer and dryer.  Oh, and the socks, washcloth, newspaper from when we were potty training the puppy, hair balls, credit card bill I accused El Hubbo of losing, and other nice archival items.  An archaeologist might enjoy digging through this. 3.  I realize you just adjusted the feet to stabilize the units for that very spot, but would you mind terribly moving it six inches to the left? 4.  Yes, I understand that everything I need to know about these things is probably contained in these owner manuals, but I didn't do this much reading for my two college degrees - what makes you think I am going to read these? 5.  I am mezmerized by all the dials and buttons and lights - are you sure I can't call ET at home? 6.  Do you really expect me to remember ...