Here are the rules.

This weekend I read a list of general rules for Black Friday shoppers. The list was pretty good and included ideas about mapping out your trip, making a list, bringing your sales ads, etc.

As a veteran Black Friday Shopper, I know that it takes much more than that to survive Black Friday. Here are the unspoken rules, according to moi.

*Instruct your husband to forget your cell phone number on this all important day. There is nothing more annoying than the feeling of vibration in your pocket while you are #55 in line at Toys R Us. You have 5 big packages in your arms and 3 stuffed inbetween your legs. You have to resort to using your chin to balance the boxes while you dig into your pocket for your phone. Then you have to yell at the top of your lungs to be heard over the crowd. And for what? To confirm that he can, indeed, eat the leftovers from yesterday for lunch. Men.

*Leave your rugrats at home. I have kids and I love them dearly, but I know better than to take them shopping on Black Friday. I want to be able to talk about being Santa Claus without your child overhearing me. I want to be able to curse when someone takes the last $3 blender and I certainly don't want to dodge big ass strollers all day long. If you think women are crazy on Black Friday, you haven't been around a child you was pulled from bed at 3 a.m. and stuffed into a stroller, pushed and pulled through store after store. Those kids are whiney and annoying. Don't hate me....it is the truth.

*Layer your clothing. Some of these store managers are either on crack or are really really nervous about the impending crowds because some stores have the heater kicked up to 92. Make sure you have a t-shirt on underneath your coat or sweater cause you'll need to peel that baby off at some point. I promise.

*Leave your grandma with your kids. I'd venture to say that old ladies that have no patience might even be worse than the kids. Nah, the kids are worse...but still. These particular old ladies think that we owe them something because they have 70 years on us. They walk slow, they examine every item before they put it in their basket, they argue with the cashiers. Come on, Grandma....we've got places to go.

*Parking lot rules are null and void on Black Friday. Everyone knows the rule, right? On any given day, you can enter a store parking lot and just as you see a spot opening up, you also see another car with their signal light blinking. They saw the spot first or at least put their blinker on first. You drive on and find another spot. Not on Black Friday. Not in my car. When there are no spots and one is opening, I'm going for it. I'm not going to cause any accidents and I'm not going to flip you off or raise my hands at you, but if I have access to get into that spot before you, I will. Ask my mom and sister. I've done it before.

*Bring someone fun with you. I can't imagine spending Black Friday without my mom and sister. I need them there for moral support. I need them to tell me that it was OK to grab the last manicure set even if I don't have anyone to give it to. I need someone to laugh with me at the person standing first in line at Walmart, with a mullet and dressed in a camoflauge coverall. I need someone to hold the line for me while I run back to exchange sizes. I need someone to bounce ideas off of. I need someone to be disgusted with because the Hobby Lobby restroom is so gross. And more importantly I need someone to remind me of the year that shopping on Black Friday put me into labor for Kendal. That story never gets old.

*Don't take it too seriously. I go shopping on Black Friday for a few deals, but mainly because it is tradition and it creates lasting memories for me and my sis. Although I do enjoy watching a good cat fight, it does get old. If you've seen one fight over a dancing Elmo doll, you've seen them all. Don't get all worked up about not getting one particular item. Go with the flow.

Happy Shopping.

A girl that knows what she wants

With each passing day, it is becoming clear to me that Kendal is becoming her own person. Just 5 days short of 3 years old and we fought about her clothing this morning.

Well, she cried and I sat stone-cold faced in the recliner.

I picked out the cutest little jumper dress for her to wear with bright red tights and black boots.

And she obviously disapproved.

She cried until her sweet honey-colored hair was stuck to her face. She threw herself onto the floor. She kicked the floor. She grabbed a purple short-sleeved shirt, took it off of the hanger and hurled it at me.

But I didn't give in. I sat on that recliner with conviction. I AM the momma.

Right in the middle of all that crying and screaming, she decided that she needed to potty. She apparently used that potty time as thinking time because she came back into the living room completely naked. She let me dress her and we were on our way.

There was this one time...

I love so many things about the holiday season. The clinking of coffee cups in the late afternoon, giggles of children running through the house, decadent meals, sinful desserts, crackling fireplaces and family stories.

Family Stories.

That is my favorite.

And we've all heard them at least a thousand times but we still laugh until our bellies hurt when we hear them again. We never tire of hearing the same descriptions and we never ever interrupt the storyteller.

Holiday season has officially begun and so have the family gatherings. This weekend the girls and I had the opportunity to sit around a blazing fire with my parents and two of my siblings. We ate roasted marshmallows, swollen and gooey. We played music and watched the girls dance around the fire. We even watched my mom attempt a cartwheel. (Insert wide-eyed smilie here!)

And we told stories.

My mom has the best stories. She is the only girl in a family of 5 children. Each one of those siblings are cooky in their own little way and to hear about their childhood shenanigans makes me smile from ear to ear.

There is one story that she has told over and over and over again throughout my life and I am still amazed that this ever happened.

For those of us that are too young to know much about the 60s, try to imagine a time when there was no Wii or DS or DVD player to keep you occupied. Your neighbors were several miles apart and you had to entertain your damn self.

Now imagine being a 4 year old girl with 3 older brothers. You'll listen to anything they say. They know better. They are fun.

And imagine if they told you to hold on to the back bumper of your mom's car. Would you do it? Would you do it if you knew that your mom was about to get into that car and drive away?

My mom did. And she hung onto that bumper for about a mile, until a neighbor frantically flagged down my grandmother. Her poor little legs were scraped and bruised and I'm sure that she was scared out of her mind.

And I can totally imagine my uncles running and hiding in anticipation of what would most definitely be a butt whoopin.

We laugh every time we hear this story because she can so perfectly describe why she did it. Cause they told her to. And we laugh about how my grandmother nursed her to health and never considered bringing her to the hospital.

And we laugh when she tells stories about how she learned to never fake an illness to get out of school or even when she thought she killed a little boy....but that will have to wait for another day.

Haystacks

I love this time of year for many reasons, one being an excuse to bake things.

I baked bread, muffins and cookies this weekend. Plus I made a batch of haystacks.

This is one of my very favorite fall candies. Emily loves them too and we have eaten nearly the entire batch. I think that we are both looking at the last few thinking we'll leave them for the next person, but one of us will break soon. I can feel it.

Wanna know how to make them?

Easy as 1 2 3.

Melt a bag of butterscotch morsels.

Add half a bag of Chow Mein noodles to the melted butterscoth. (or 1 can if you can't find the bags)

Carefully mix until all the noodles are covered.

Dump onto a pan (lined with wax paper) to form little haystacks.

Let cool and harden for at least half an hour.

Devour and make more.

Cause I'm her Dumplin

**Disclaimer: This picture is of my Grandma and my sister. I couldn't find a good picture of me and Grandma**

At the ripe age of 4, my parents and I moved to Duson. We moved next to my grandparents. I have so many blissful memories of my grandparents. Playing in her button box. Playing in the chicken coop. Grandma teaching me to ride a bike. Homemade ice cream.

All kinds of memories.

One particular memory is about chicken and dumplings.

I am a picky eater. Wierd, I know. I love to cook, watch cooking shows and bake. But I'm still picky about certain things, including onions and onion tops.

My grandma makes the very best chicken and dumplings I've ever eaten and as a child, I remember one very specific thing about her dumplings.

She always made two batches. One batch for me and one batch for everyone else.

You see, she put onion tops in her dumpling mix. And she knew I hated them. But she also knew that I LOVE dumplings.

So she made me a special batch.

As an adult, I don't make chicken and dumplings very much. I've been craving the savory deliciousness and decided that I'd make it this week.

I normally just make a chicken stew and throw in some refrigerated biscuits.

This time I decided that I'd actually make dumplings. I printed up a Paula Deen recipe to follow and started cooking.

It didn't work out the way I had hoped.

The dumplings weren't bad. They just weren't great. They were kinda tough and not as savory as my grandma's.

So I've decided that I'm just gonna ask her what she does.

I know the answer will be "a little of this and a little of that" but at least I'll have a starting point.

Love you Grandma.

The Blahs

Ever get the blahs?

I do.

And I'm blah right now.

I don't know what causes the blahs but when they hit, they hit hard.

I don't have an energy.

I don't have any creative juices flowing in my pretty little head.

I just want to put on my pajamas and watch TV all day long.

All.

Day.

Long.

I don't do that. I actually get up and get on with my life like normal people do, but that couch and blanket sure do look inviting.

And I know that I'm not great company when I have the blahs. But I don't know what to do about it. And when I have the blahs, I don't care what you like.

Hopefully, I will snap out by this weekend. Holiday weekends are always a big treat and I'd hate to ruin it by being a sourpuss.

Someone cheer me up.

Crazy Conversations With Kids

K: What the favorite part of day?

E: Learning about food groups. I knew one answer. Ham is pig. Catfish is cat.

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Me: Don't touch my make-up.

K: Just the brush?

Me: Yes, just the brush.

K: What color the brush?

Me: Black

K: I farted.