What's Your Vice?

Name something you LOVE that would be tough to go without.

For an entire week you can't use it. Somewhere on tv last week, a man tried his hand at powering down his cellphone and computer for seven days. SEVENNNNNN. I think I'd be curled up in the fetal position on my mother's lap. How do you NOT email, text, or google facts about that suspicious-looking mole you found in the shower for one whole week? Hives are forming just thinking about it.

We've been spoiled by technology. And other things for that matter.

Starbucks is a daily visit and I don't see me giving that up any time soon. My family would agree that the results around the house could be ugly. And is it bad that my four-year-old can order my drink of choice verbatim?

The truth is, I'd LIKE to walk away from these high-tech connections to the outside world. Life would be simpler, the way it should be. Remember the days of stopping by a friend's house for a visit, instead of sending a text that lacks emotion? Or receiving a hand-written letter in the mail? It's such a rarity now that on the days I receive one, it doesn't go unnoticed. No internet access for MapQuest? You mean I'd actually have to call someone up and ask for directions?

I suppose we all could use a break from having access to instant information. Heck, I'd rather give up my cell phone for seven days than deodorant.

A girl's got priorities.

On Spotting Bob Sanders...I Think

Just back from dinner.

I am convinced I spotted Bob Sanders from the Colts, one of my faves, sitting two tables over, but my husband says I'm crazy. And to that I say, 'Tell me something I didn't know.' I still think it was him. Yes, I was staring at his back, but I did see the guy walk in...and he didn't do THAT backwards.

Same hair, same height, same everything...even a watch on his wrist the size of the plate my tiramisu was sitting on. Wonder how much that thing could go for on Craigslist?

So, this was our conversation for a good ten minutes. Was it him? Was it not? Yep, that's him. No, Greg said, it's not, just a guy trying to look like him, and something about his wife needing a hobby.

Greg practically cringed when I grabbed my cellphone to take a pic with plans to twitter it, only it turned out blurry. Don't think I didn't consider hiding behind the plant to his right to snap a profile view, but Greg threatened to grab the boys and run, mumbling something about stalker laws and he hoped I had cabfare.

Heck, maybe Sanders isn't even in town. But, it sure looked like him and that's good enough for me.

By the way, he ordered the lasagna.

I Messed Up

I'm in the doghouse.

My husband has been nagging, er...frequently suggesting, that I test-drive a car he would like to buy. We drove it last week, and I liked it. A lot, actually. Seemed like a good deal, and it had all of the features he wanted. But, then the holiday weekend arrived, and the whole buying-a-car idea got pushed back a bit.

Greg asked me to go test-drive the car one FINAL time this week, so we could make a decision and move forward. Are you getting that he's more about doing, and I'm more about thinking things through? Story of our life. I'm pretty darn sure that's how we ended up with the tv that's in our basement. I recall telling him 'Do what you think's best.' Twenty minutes later he called to say it would be delivered the following day at noon.

Maybe he misunderstood.

So I promised to drive the vehicle, thinking I'd hop behind the wheel on Friday after the show, and mumbled something about patience not being his best quality. After all, we're in a recession, so odds are that his new wheels weren't going anywhere.

So I thought. Greg just informed me they sold the car.

I hate when that happens.

Things I Don't Understand

Indiana weather

Fruitcake

My husband's love of bubble baths

Neighborhood speed limits at the 1/2 mark

Why some children aren't loved

Spam lunchmeat...and why Mom served it

Why Fruitstripe gum loses its flavor so quickly

Guys who wear eyeliner

Peanut butter & jelly in the same jar

The barricades at 465 & Meridian on Indy's north side

Why country lyrics use incorrect grammar

How my feet got bigger after giving birth

And how the above statement happened not once, but twice.

Your Biggest Fear Just Came True

One in every five people pee in the pool.

Figured I'd better just throw that out there. No joke. I read that little unwanted piece of information over the weekend. With pool season now open, that statistic isn't too comforting. So, you have some choices to make.

Swim in groups of four.

Jump out when someone is suddenly looking more relaxed.

Avoid the pool.

I don't know about you, but I'm grossed out. Even worse, I want to know who filled out the survey...and admitted they were THAT person.

Pass the Kleenex

I watched my 5-year-old niece graduate from Kindergarten last night.

Hard to believe she'll soon be ready for first grade. Maddie is a bundle of energy, a feisty spirit with an ear-to-ear grin that can melt away your worries. She looked super cute in her new dress and sparkly pink shoes, with blonde locks a shade I still can't get my hairstylist to recreate.

Mid-way through the ceremony, I realized I had a serious problem.

The kids' teacher was presenting various awards to the students, such as 'Most likely to become an architect, Best Smile,' etc, when I realized my eyes were welling with tears. Long AFTER my niece had received the award for 'Best Bookworm,' I found myself crying for kids I didn't know.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?

As parents cheered for their kids, like the brunette boy who looked uncomfortable in a fancy tie and dress pants cinched with a belt, I felt that lump in my throat.

I recall doing the same thing during a recent episode of SuperNanny, as the family waved the British kid-expert goodbye.

I cried all through my situps. This never happened before becoming a mom.

Help.

The Questions Kids Ask

We packed up the family and headed to the movies over the weekend.

Us and a few hundred others. The line resembled one you see at Disney, snaking around and around and up and back and...you get the idea. And here I thought pre-paying for tickets was a waste of time.

After buying four tickets for Night at the Museum 2, we stood behind the glass counter at the concessions and stared at the gazillion choices, from MuddyBears, gummy bears dipped in chocolate, to a box of M&M's the size of my phone book. Apparently, the portions are supposed to last us the next 8 times we visit.

Four drinks and tub of popcorn later, plus some Starburst that our dentist told us to avoid, we settled into our reclining seats.

One scene in the movie is shown, briefly, in black and white. When the scene ended, one of my sons tapped me on the shoulder and said...

'When did people start seeing in color?'

Wanna Get a Tattoo for Chesney?

A Kenny Chesney fan has shown the singer some love by inking her back.

A lot.

The gigantic tattoo features Kenny's Be as You Are album cover, certainly a unique twist to the usual permanent artwork. Kenny got the chance to see it for himself at a show, describing it as 'an unbelievable thing to see.'

And a little odd, if you ask me.

The One that Got Away

All kids grow up.

I get that. But often times it happens faster than we expect, and before you know it, your daughter is at Target, buying fuzzy pillows and a lava lamp to decorate her dorm room.

My oldest isn't there just yet, but he's certainly growing up faster than Billy Gilman. (Can you believe Billy turned 21 last week and now sports facial hair? Not to mention that his voice sounds about three octaves lower.)

Almost a year ago, I was with the boys at our favorite grocery store, where we have 'donut dates.' We grab donuts on a Saturday morning, swing by Starbucks for coffee because momma needs her caffeine, and grab some milk for the boys. We usually end our trip with a ride on the mechanical pony located near the front of the store. (I should clarify that I don't ride, thank you very much.)

Then one day the pony had a sign which read, 'Out of Order.'

Griffin was fine with that, Hayden was devastated. So we waited a few weeks for the repairman, or the vet as I told my youngest, to come fix Mr. Pony. Only that didn't happen.

Fast-forward to a week ago, when a friend who is employed at the store left me a message to say that a brand new pony had arrived, and was now up and running. We returned for donuts, chocolate-iced for Griff, sprinkles for Hayden, and I mentioned to the boys that the pony was back. Hayden was elated. Griffin? No response.

He wrinkled his nose as if to say, 'You don't expect ME to ride it do you?' Truth be told, I knew he wouldn't want to, but didn't want to hear him say so. 'Mommmmm, I'm 7. C'mon,' he said.

I'm sure he only rode the thing last year to please his younger toddler brother, I just wasn't thrilled to be reminded that laser tag was now more his style. Please tell me I'm not the only mom who has experienced this. What kind of mom WANTS her son to still do kiddie stuff?

It's tough watching kids grow up, yet they do.

They climb the fence of life, traditions get replaced by new ones and before long they're not as quick to make room for you at the school lunch table.

Hug 'em while you can...love 'em even longer.

Indy 500 Track Talk

It's race day in Indy.

Brings back memories of this photo, when the morning show took part in the two-seater ride around the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. At a mere 180 miles per hour. I'm sure the person who followed me asked for a different racing suit.

Indy 500 fans, here is a list of the top ten things overheard during the month of May.

Danica Patrick saying if she wins the Greatest Spectacle in Racing, she won't do the traditional pouring of the milk over her head. Why? The hair. She's got more of it.

Grand Marshal of the 500 parade Dick Vitale saying it's hard not to cheer for Ellio Castroneves, a previous two-time winner of the Indy 500. But, he's also cheering for Danica Patrick, whom he calls a 'superstar.'

Marco Andretti saying he will sport the hair product for the race today. He wears Aveda, for those who are curious.

Sara Fisher saying 'Ooh Baby' when we asked what her car would say if it could speak.

Dan Wheldon admitting to frequent trips to Starbucks, where he loves their tea...and coffee. Does he get recognized often? In Indy, yes. Otherwise, not too much.

Racing legend Mario Andretti showing WTHR's Rich Nye's mom some love, wishing her a happy birthday. 'Have a wonderful day, Sue,' he shouted into the camera from the garage.

Helio Castroneves saying he 'will never complain about a bad day again' after being cleared of all charges in his tax evasion trial.

A t-shirt vendor outside the track saying it is the worst crowd they have seen in ten years.

A.J. Foyt IV, who dates Colts owner Jim Irsay's daughter, saying he and his fiancee' dined with Irsay and Foyt's grandfather at St. Elmo's steakhouse. Who bought? Irsay.

Richard Petty telling a reporter that he couldn't devour his hot dog because it was too warm.

And that's ten.

When All Else Fails, Eat Sugar

Came home from work to have a peanut butter and blackberry jelly sandwich for lunch. My fave.

Won't be happening today.

We're out of PB. Somehow, a jelly 'sammich' as I sometimes say doesn't sound as tasty. And a Lean Cuisine didn't make the options list today, after all, that was what I dined on yesterday about this time. I'm too tired to actually cook anything, because that would delay my nap, so I scanned my choices and made the easy decision.

Cap'N Crunch...with berries.

I feel like a kid again. I might even drink the pastel milk left over at the end. That is, if no one's looking.

Sometimes running out of peanut butter isn't all that bad.

I Agree with Toby

I was flipping through the channels the other night, looking for a reason to NOT work out.

The next thing I knew, there's Paris Hilton batting her eyelashes on the red carpet, wearing a ridiculous-looking tiara, because that instantly makes you cool, and holding her toy-looking dog.

She was telling a reporter that she and her new boyfriend would soon be getting away to an island for some private time, and they weren't going to tell anyone.

Yet she JUST DID.

Reminds me of when we talked to Toby Keith during his recent visit to WFMS, and we asked him this question...

'One thing I get tired of hearing about is...fill in the blank'...and Toby responded, 'Paris Hilton.'

Can't blame him. Other Toby facts?

He is not a fan of Crocs, but has a pair he wears around the pool. Says they 'look goofy.'

Toby's wife volunteers him to chaperone field trips, and he admits he slept through a movie.

Toby coaches his son's football team.

Toby says he's the biggest cheapskate he knows.

More Toby talk next week when we give away tickets to see his show. Stay tuned...

Oh No...Part Two

Remember when I told you about the case of mistaken drink identity at the ballpark?

Well, here's a follow-up.

If you missed the original story, I took some drinks of my husband's Diet Coke that was laying near my feet on the bleachers. Then another dad grabbed that bottle and walked away, only to finish off the beverage. Horrified, I looked at Greg, who to my surprise was actually holding his drink, which means I was taking swigs of someone else's cold beverage.

Thoughts of swine flu had me petrified for days.

Fast-forward to a week later. I'm sitting on the same row of the same bleachers at the same ballpark, when that same guy says hello to my husband. Greg asked how things were going, and the man replied, 'Not so good. I've got these sores in my mouth and had to see a doctor.'

I'm sure anyone who was watching would have seen a set of eyeballs pop out of my head. I thought to myself how odd that someone we met only weeks before would share something so personal. Greg commented back, saying sorry to hear it and what could it be, to which the guy said, 'Not sure. My doctor thinks it's the result of drinking after someone else.'

I about fell over.

I then realized I'd been had, all due to my clever husband outing me during a practice that I did not attend.

Hardee har.

Carrie Underwood Explains

Carrie Underwood blames a jogging accident as the reason she was limping on Tuesday's American Idol.

Talk about bad luck.

Carrie has more willpower than half of us when it comes to saying no to biggie fries and yes to shaping those calf muscles, yet she recently did a faceplant while running in Nashville.

A woman Carrie had never met was nice enough to pull over and give her a ride home. What a story that lady has for co-workers gathering around the water cooler. Hope she got a pic to back it up, though how awkward would that be? 'Sorry you're in pain, but say cheese!'

The ACM Entertainer of the Year says she donned jeans and boots for this week's Idol performance to cover up her injuries.

Careful, Carrie.

Closest Thing to a Handshake

Time we introduced ourselves.

I've gotten some emails and comments from readers of this blog as far away as Australia, Africa, Italy (Hello, Marco!), Spain, and France. Small world, huh? Nice to have you aboard.

Just wanted to take a moment while my house is somewhat quiet, and boy will that moment be brief, to say I really enjoy hearing from you all. Writing has been my saving grace during a bad year. So, thanks for reading.

Makes me wonder...who checks in from the farthest location? Feel free to introduce yourself. Kinda like what we call a 'shout out' in radioland. Though if you're just wanting to say happy birthday to your mom, it might mean more if you call her.

Last month was the one-year mark since starting this little hobby of mine. I have plans, in between chastising myself for forgetting to thaw the ground beef for dinner and replacing the roll of toilet paper in the downstairs bath, to revamp this site a bit. That will include more posts, and other random stuff.

Just wanted to say hello to those who read this. From Beech Grove, to Nashville, to the Philippines.

Say hi when you can.

Are You Sure You've Met My Son?

Just returned from my parent-teacher conference with Hayden's preschool teacher.

She felt like he was right where he needs to be, learning his letters, shapes, colors, etc. That's what every mom wants to hear. It's better than being told your son pulled the fire alarm. It was also reassuring to know that he isn't biting, spitting at, or bullying classmates. Not that I was worried.

Yet, this is the kid who was born without a filter, as I like to call it. He says what he's thinking, no matter who's around to hear it. Like the time we were in the restroom at the ballpark and a grandma-type lady walked in. "Did you see HER, Mom?,' Hayden said in a voice about 40 times louder than Mike Tyson. I told him I did, and she seemed like a very nice lady. 'She's an OLD lady, Mom. Isn't she? She's ollllllld.' I couldn't wash his hands fast enough.

Back to the conference, I have to admit I wasn't prepared to hear what Hayden's teacher said next...

'Good news. Hayden has definitely come out of his shell.'

I'm not sure we were talking about the same boy.

13 Things That Make Me Cringe

Undressing in front of total strangers in a locker room.

The smell of burnt hair that got stuck in your dryer.

Jeans that are still damp.

Restaurant booths and the food crumbs in them.

Walking barefoot on hotel carpet.

Itchy turtlenecks.

Visible earwax.

Putting on a wet bathing suit.

THAT visit to THAT doctor.

Letting a friend down.

Automated phone lines.

Graphic scenes on crime shows.

This list.

He Gets it Waaaaaaaaay Honest

My oldest is clumsy...like his momma.

Not sure what it is about our accident-prone ways, but there's no denying it. I've fallen UP the stairs, and down, busted my head open with my locker in high school, tried to get out of my car with my seatbelt still fastened, put a screwdriver in my eye, (no permanent damage,) and it's not a normal day if I don't trip at least once over my own big feet.

Paints a graceful picture, huh?

So it comes as no surprise that my 2nd grader ended up with ice on his head during a recent field trip to the bowling alley. His dad chaperoned that trip, and later told me that Griff got smacked in the back of the noggin by the bathroom door.

Ouch. He's good about toughing things out, yet accident's keep finding him.

Two weeks later, it was time to visit the zoo with his class. I packed his lunch, complete with a note telling him to say hi to the monkeys, and off he went. Just before school was to end, I ran to a nearby Starbucks for a caffeine boost, and spotted three moms I knew sitting outside. They waved me over and told me that they had just returned from the zoo trip.

'How was it,' I asked, inquiring if Griff had a good time. One of the moms paused and said, 'Now that I think about it, the last time I saw him he had an icepack on his leg.'

Of course he did.

Turns out Griff hurt his leg on the bus. Something about getting it pinched in the flip-top seats. Who would have thought?

All I know is the kid could use a punch-card for every icepack he's been given.

Imagine Kenny in Your Tub

No one likes a party-crasher, but when it's Kenny Chesney...well, that's a different story.

Kenny headed back to Dallas Sunday, where his show had been shortened by a downpour of rain two weeks prior. Just before the show, Kenny spotted some fans who know how to tailgate, complete with a hot tub on a trailer. Never one to miss a good time, Kenny grabbed a beer and hopped in.

Kenny says, 'It reminds me of why we are there...we got to have a shared moment.'

You can bet those tailgaters were sharing that experience over text messages hours after Kenny had wrung the water from his trunks. Can you imagine?

A few other Kenny tidbits...

He has many vehicles, but the one of choice these days is his LandRover.

He has a vibe room where he, bandmates, family and others gather just before a show to relax.

Kenny sometimes drinks a Red Bull before performing.

Kenny also told us about his little secret called the 911 mic. He uses this to tell the band something without it going out over the stadium speakers for all to hear. You know, like 'turn up the amp to my left,' or 'I just ripped my jeans.' We love the story involving the trick Kenny played on his good buddy Peyton Manning, who was performing with him onstage. Peyton could hear Kenny say something about a girl in the third row, only to panic with that deer in the headlights look. Kenny still chuckles about that one.

And there you have it, Kenny fans.

My Husband Thinks He's Funny

I got the chance to have my nephew for an overnight visit last weekend.

Jackson just turned one, and there's nothing better than soft, kissable baby cheeks that look like they're storing nuts for the winter. He still has that cute baby-scented skin, kinda like sweet puppy breath that you know will eventually disappear.

My sister certainly lucked out with her firstborn.

The boy hardly ever cries and has an appetite like a contestant on Survivor. He's so cute that I somehow didn't mind fumbling downstairs at 5 am for his milk when he awoke hungry. We snuggled on the couch and he amazingly drifted right back to sleep, tucked inside my arm like Peyton Manning's football.

Oh, and a big thanks to little J, as I call baby Jackson, for timing out his diaper changes just right that Uncle Greg was the one to change him.

The following morning, Jackson's eyes grew big as Greg vacuumed the floors, so Greg leaned down, looked him right in the eye and said...

"Jackson, this is a vacuum. Something your mommy and Aunt Deb know nothing about."

Keith Gets it

Keith Urban fans are in for a treat this week.

The Keithster, can I call him that?, will take the stage Wednesday for the finale of American Idol. Keith himself is a fan of the hugely popular talent competition, so he and Nicole Tivo the show. 'It's crazy, isn't it?', Keith says.

According to Keith, this season has been one of the best as far as talent goes, and he's especially impressed by finalist and future eyeliner-endorser Adam Lambert, who just may get Keith's vote.

Isn't it funny to picture superstar Keith Urban on his cell, placing his pick for who should be the next Idol?

Need a Laugh? Talk to a Kid

I emceed the Kids Rookie Run yesterday, an event in downtown Indy that leads up to race week for the Indy 500.

There's something about seeing kids as young as three-years-old run like they mean business. It's as if they were chasing a Toys R Us truck, and the first person to catch it gets to keep the loot. Despite a few mishaps where some kids stumbled, fell and were treated for skinned knees, all kids were winners. The children were awarded medals at the finish line instead of a swig of the traditional milk, after running the course with moms or dads holding their hands.

Starting them off with a 'Ready, Set, Go' at the start, I overheard some interesting things among the children.

Here is a rundown:

3-year-old: I'm a gonna run SUPER fast. I wore my SUPERFAST shoes.

4-year-old: I think I'll win this. I've been practicing at home. You know, in my driveway and stuff.

4-year-old to another: Quit pushing! You're not being nice.

That kid back to the 4-year-old: YOU quit. I was here first.

5-year-old: I'm running with my Dad. But, I'll beat him.

5-year-old pointing to my microphone: Can I say hi to my mommy?

5-year-old listening to the Jonas Brothers on speaker: Is this Hannah Montana, lady?

6-year-old: I'm going to take it easy. My Dad told me to save up my energy for the end.

7-year-old brother to his 4-year-old sis: Don't let go of my hand. I'm in charge of you.

7-year-old: This is nothin.' (Referring to the 1/4 mile race.) I've done a whole mile before.

8-year-old: I'm not stretchin'. Don't need to.

8-year-old: I'm gonna smoke this.

9-year-old wearing a sweatband on his forehead: I came prepared.

9-year-old: You see this? (Pointing to his face.) It's called confidence.

Gotta love seeing the world through a child's lense.

A New Take on Exercise

Just got back from an attempt at a peaceful walk. However, it was cut short.

I first stopped at the local Starbucks for the largest nonfat white mocha that I could buy, figuring it would end my hammer-like migraine and I could sip it while strolling down a popular nearby walkway. Coffee in hand, I parked my car and began walking. Within minutes, a bee began buzzing my head. Assuming I could swat it away, I did just that, only to have it return within seconds. So I swatted again. And again. Lucky for me, other walkers and runners were visible, but not within hearing distance, so I decided a verbal smackdown would do this bee some good.

'Get away,' I shouted. 'Cut it out,' I said with conviction. The bee wasn't listening. At this point, I felt silly for talking to an insect, the same silly feeling I had when I told the repairman on the phone 'Love you' as I hung up.

Whoops.

There I was, ducking to avoid the bee, hopping in the left walk pathway, then back to the right, and repeating the pattern. Killer bee wouldn't budge. I had no choice but to put a tight grip on my coffee cup and pick up the pace. Slowly at first, then faster...faster...all the while thinking, 'Boy, don't I look stupid' running with a cup of coffee, yet the bee was up for the challenge.

At this point, I wanted to kick some bee behind.

Yes, I get that the bee wanted my coffee, who knew bees liked white mochas?, but I wasn't about to ditch my beloved drink. Forget walking with a can of mace for safety, a can of Raid would have provided a better defense. I eventually realized the bee would win this battle, did an about-face and headed back to my car, falling in to the driver's seat and laughing at the fact that I just raced a fuzzy bug with a stinger...

And it won.

Thinking of Dad

Today is my father's birthday.

A day where, like most families, we would have gathered to watch him open presents. Presents like a Pacers t-shirt, another political book to add to the shelves of ones he had already, or a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts. They weren't gifts that cost much, yet he loved those things. And you can bet the bag of peanuts, double-dipped in chocolate no less, would be gone by the time we had said our goodbyes and loaded the kids in the car.

Certain dates are etched in our brains for various sentiments, and the birthday of a loved one who has passed is no different. Same goes for the days my children were born, my hire date at the radio station, or the day I walked down the aisle. They are filed away in our memories in the same manner Pizza Hut's delivery line is listed in my address book.

We'll never forget them.

I suppose I've dreaded this day for some time. I didn't realize how much until I drove home from baseball last night and it hit me that May 15th would arrive whether I was prepared or not.

I will miss the usual routine on Dad's birthday. Waking up in the morning and calling Dad to wish him a good day. Gathering for a cookout, possibly pork chops dipped in orange juice on the grill, and watching Dad play cornhole with his son-in-laws, cigar in one hand, bag of corn in the other.

I'll miss seeing him open my present, possibly a shirt, then disappear to try it on and show me how it fits. I'll miss watching Dad blow the candles out on his cake, with the help of his grandkids, then reaching for a lighter to relight them when one child says they didn't get to partake. I'll especially miss Dad's hearty laugh, how he would remove his baseball hat and scratch his head, and how he would sneak himself and grandkids an ice cream sandwich from the freezer. Somehow Dad always had seconds, but justified it by saying with a smile, 'they're small.'

We may not be celebrating with candles this year, Dad, but I will still celebrate having had you in my life.

You made it brighter, candles or not.

Jason Aldean Gets No Love

People Magazine's Country edition is on newsstands tomorrow.

It's list of Country's Hottest Men is inside, and Brad Paisley gets the largest part of the magazine cover, next to Kenny and Keith Urban. Here's the list of unranked hunks, though I personally think it's missing a few:

Trace Adkins

Dierks Bentley

Luke Bryan

Kenny Chesney

Jack Ingram

Tim McGraw

Jake Owen

Brad Paisley

Blake Shelton

Josh Turner

Keith Urban

Chuck Wicks

Most notably absent would be Jason Aldean, and I'm the first to admit he is a personal favorite. Something about his shy demeanor that is appealing, among other things, though he says he gets asked about his set of earrings more than anything else.

We recently chatted with Jason, and he told us he is excited to be on the road with Keith Urban, and don't count on him to sport any black toenail polish as Keith did in his early days. Wouldn't have mattered, Jason.

Some things can be overlooked.

My Job-Shadowing Son

You've heard of 'Take Your Son to Work' day.

I did just that last night, though it wasn't the official day on the calendar. Who makes up these pseudo-holidays anyway?

Still, my oldest tagged along with me to chat with Marco Andretti.

Marco is a member of the well-known Andretti family who has certainly made its mark in the racing world. He has qualified for the Indy 500, and is making appearances, sporting his Aveda hairgel and all, at various stores throughout the city. I was worried Griffin would grow bored, hanging around for two hours watching a race car driver sign autographs, though Marco has it down to a science at 400 signatures an hour.

Soon after we got there, the smile on my son's face resembled a kid in a candy store, yet this time we were sandwiched between women's lingerie and men's athletic wear. He watched in awe as Marco's beefy security guard stood close by with arms crossed like he meant business, (I posted his pic on twitter!), then took it all in as I turned on the mic and rattled off some questions for the famous Andretti. Hard-hitting stuff, like where he sleeps the night before the race (he's in bed by 9!), and will he climb the fence like Ellio if he wins? (Nope, just drink the milk.)

Heading home, I asked Griff if he had a good time, and he told me it was the best night ever. Thinking maybe he learned a little bit about broadcasting, I asked if he'd like to be in radio one day.

'Oh, no way, Mom,' he replied. I assumed he was saying the interviews would be nerve-wracking, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

'I wanna be an astronaut.'

Can't help you there, son.

I Was a Shy Child, Hayden's Not

My 4-year-old has been picking up lines from some unknown source. They are enough to make me giggle, and almost enough to get him out of trouble for the other things he says.

Here's this week's run-down of Hayden-talk:

When applying some cream to a place on his chest, he said 'Oh yeaaaah, that's the stuff.'

After licking pancake batter off of his finger, he exclaimed, 'Ohhhhh, come to Poppa.'

While undressing, he told me 'Don't look at my weiner, Mom. I don't look at yours.' I told him that's because I don't have one. His response? 'Then how do you pee?'

Rest assured, I didn't bother explaining.

Toast, a Show & Spilled Coffee

Here's my special Mother's Day breakfast, made with love by my 7-year-old son.

I awoke that morning to Griffin asking me how I like my toast. Kinda like a waitress asks how you like your coffee. No butter for me, not burnt, no cinnamon sugar, instead, I asked for blackberry jelly and told him where to find it. Minutes later I could hear him working away in the kitchen.

I love how he slapped the slice of toast directly on a Clifford tray, who needs a plate anyway?, and delivered it to me in bed.

He eyed the toast pretty closely, asking what blackberry jelly tastes like while never taking his eyes off the unevenly spread jam. I offered him a bite, so he helped himself, and determined that he loved it. Before I could tear a piece off for myself, my son was back for seconds...then thirds...and before I knew it, the toast was gone.

Hey, the kid has an appetite.

My 4-year-old realized he wanted to do something special as well, so he disappeared and soon returned to my bedroom while dragging a drumset behind him. And a cymbal. And something else I didn't recognize that could shatter the neighbor's windows. Hayden introduced himself in true rock-star fashion, pounding those drums while sending the dog into hiding and later declaring that his performance was my 'Mother's Day concert.'

As only he could deliver.

Just then, Greg yelled from downstairs that he 'was home,' after making a surprise coffee run to Starbucks for me. I say surprise, though he realized when he got there that he had no idea what I order, so he called the house to ask, 'Just what is it you get?'

Considering I get thrilled at the mere sight of a white cup with a brown paper sleeve, I jumped out of bed to head downstairs and sip on a cup of heaven. As I carefully hopped down each step in my oversized fuzzy red slippers, and yes I've been known to fall, I heard Greg yell, 'Never mind.'

Never mind? Never mind what?

'Never mind the coffee,' he said. 'I just spilled it all over the floor.'

Hey, it's the thought that counts.

My Son Proves Gary Levox Right

That's Kellie Pickler in the photo above, wearing no makeup except maybe lipgloss. Not bad, huh?

A while back, Gary Levox of Rascal Flatts called the show and we were chatting about their hit song at the time 'Fast Cars & Freedom.' In the song, Gary sings these lyrics:

Starin' at you takin' off your makeup

Wondering why you even put it on

I know you think you do but baby you don't need it

Wish that you could see what I see it when it's gone

I asked Gary what I think every woman must wonder, and that is...Do guys REALLY mean all that? I mean, let's be honest.

Gary's married, so he smartly answered while laughing that his wife can get away with it. What about the women who can't? Gary paused and said, "I think those women know who they are.'

Fast-forward to the weekend, when I was doing some chores around the house in sweats, hair tied in a pony, and no makeup. My youngest took one look at me and said, 'How come you don't look like yourself?'

Gotta hand it to a 4-year-old for telling me I'm one of 'those' women.

To All the Moms

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms in my life.

Of course, my mom is at the top of that list. I always look forward to seeing her on any day, especially this one. Now that I'm a mother myself, I realize how important being one is. I can recall my mom reassuring me when I took my first cartrip, with baby in tow, to visit her at work and realized I forgot the diaper bag. No diapers. No wipes. No nothin.

Several phone calls and two kids later, I've learned from the best. Mom is very thoughtful and sweet, and in honor of mom, here's a list of things I picked up from her along the way:

How to be a good listener

How to write a thank-you note

To take a hostess gift to a party

To be there for a friend

To volunteer for your kids activities

That lipstick makes you feel better

How to cook

To make birthdays special for others

To love your kids

Why family is important

Happy Mother's Day, Mom...you are loved!

Stay tuned for more on what happened in my household...tomorrow. (One kid cooked, the other decided to show some love on a drumset, and the hubby's effort didn't turn out as he'd hoped.)

Forget the Keys, It's the Car I Can't Find

Note to self:

Remember the make and model of the car you are test-driving while shopping.

My husband is 'trying out' a car for the weekend and asked me to drive it during my errand-running to see if I like it. Seems easy enough. Except I walked up and down two rows of cars after buying some Mother's Day gifts wondering where I parked when I realized...

I'd been looking for MY car.

Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighty then.

Thanks, Don't Mind if I Do

I need a paper bag to put over my head.

That's what I'll be wearing the next time I go to the ballpark to watch my son play baseball. Or a ski mask or a wig. Or some really black hair dye. Let me explain.

Last night, I plopped down on the top row of bleachers to watch my oldest take the field. Greg chose to stand, sipping on Diet Coke from a 12-ounce bottle. He eventually laid his drink on the bleachers, and I placed it by my feet so the bottle wouldn't get knocked over. A hot dog with mustard and relish later, I helped myself to Greg's safely-placed icy drink.

Fast-forward a good while later, the game had ended, and the man who had been standing to my left grabbed that bottle of soda and walked away. Not that I cared, and I was just about to tell him that he grabbed the wrong drink when he twisted the lid off and chugged the remaining calories.

OMG! Wrong drink...wrong drink...I was thinking, but I couldn't bring myself to utter a word. I told my sister what happened while watching the guy wipe his mouth and toss the bottle in the trash.

OMG.

I turned to tell Greg about the accidental mixup, when I realized he was holding his Diet Coke in his hand and was about to throw it away. Which means...

I HAD BEEN DRINKING THE OTHER GUY'S DRINK!

Did he see me? Shouldn't I know his name since we just shared a drink? I mean, people are walking around with masks on their faces to avoid the swine flu, and I've started a community drink club at the baseball park.

Figures.

It Gives Me the Creeps

I've told you about a few things I'm afraid of.

Little fears of mine that are probably daily occurences to you, yet I avoid them like I avoid hotels that don't have a Starbucks in sight.

Sitting in restaurant booths would be one. Can't stand the gathering of food crumbs in the back of the cushion seat that seem to stare at me as if to say, 'Hi, we just fell from the mouths of the people who were seated here before you.' Totally gross.

That's just one of a few I've admitted to. One I haven't?

Driving through a carwash.

It starts with the process of lining up my left front tire on the automated track, and it doesn't matter that they provide a large mirror on the outside of the building or that I get motioned in by a friendly employee who is drenching himself with the spray hose. I'm always too far right or too far left and the entire thing makes me nervous. I've gotten much better at it, but it's enough to make me break out in full-body hives. Possibly worse than when my husband was forced to wear a pink shirt for my niece's 'wear only pink' party. Much worse.

Then there's the car-wash dungeon, where I've convinced myself the track will malfunction, leaving me stuck in there, as pink and blue soap covers my windows in puffy lines like toothpaste in a sink. After all, there's no panic button to stop the thing, no red elevator phone to pick up when things go south. It's enough to make me wanna drive around with bird droppings on my back window for a lifetime.

Just wave when you see me.

Oh, I suppose I should mention that my fear may be the result of driving over the foot of a friendly employee years ago.

But, I'm sure he's healed by now.

Carrie Gets Miss Congeniality

As if Carrie Underwood needs one MORE award to add to her collection, she's got my pick for the nicest artist in country music, hands-down.

That doesn't mean she's never had a bad day, been tempted to put her hand in a papappazzi's face, or wished she was wearing a ski mask when spotted in the ladies room at a restaurant. Because that wouldn't be obvious.

But, she's always been nice to us. So, she gets our vote. Except no one's polling.

While we're on the topic of Carrie, below is a list of the top 7...no real reason behind that number, other than I don't have enough to make a top 8 list...favorite things Carrie shared when she called the show last week. And here they are in no specific order. (I've always wanted to say that.)

Carrie can't remember the last time she's been to a movie.

Even worse, we asked her to name a public place that she can go and not be recognized. She couldn't. Can you imagine?

She has to give all of those fancy red-carpet dresses back. But, she rarely sweats. So no worries.

Despite what you heard, she didn't apologize for her Entertainer of the Year acceptance speech. She says it was taken out of context when she said, "Sorry mom, I embarrassed myself" backstage, and to read it in print sounded different that her intent.

Carrie doesn't twitter for one simple reason...she doesn't know how. And an imposter is doing it for her.

She loves her coffee black and joked that she could be tempted "to eat the grounds."

She gets up early. Unlike most artists, Carrie says to sleep in means she'd waste part of her day.

And that's all, folks.

My Son Doesn't Get Keith Urban

Speaking of Keith...

As my youngest and I pulled in to the grocery store, Keith Urban's "Kiss the Girl" was playing on the radio. I was singing along, though my son may have preferred otherwise. 'I wannnnnnna kissssss the girrrrrl, blah blah blah.' And here's the conversation that followed:

Hayden: Did that guy on the radio just sing that he wants to kiss a GIRL?

Me: Yes, he did.

Hayden: Ewwwwwwwwwww.

Me: You mean, you don't wanna kiss a girl?

Hayden: No way! That's gross. Boys don't like girls, Mom.

Me: Yes they do. Your daddy likes me. I'm a girl.

Hayden: Yeah, well you're different. Boys don't like OTHER girls.

Not really sure what that means. The good thing is, he's not kissing anytime soon.

5 New Things About Keith

We chatted with Keith Urban last week.

Keith could talk about Pepto Bismol for an hour and I wouldn't care because his accent is so appealing. Keith is a private guy, and doesn't give too many personal details about himself, yet we always scratch the surface. Here are five new things we learned about Mr. Urban...

Those photos of he and Nicole leaving Starbucks aren't as current as you think. He says they're often old shots being recycled.

He no longer wears black toenail polish, one of many things he no longer does. Nicole probably didn't dig it? 'Not so much,' according to Keith.

Keith says he wasn't the guy to always 'kiss the girl' in school. It wasn't until he starred in a school musical that girls seemed interested.

Keith has no idea how many guitars he owns, and when pressed for a number, he guessed at maybe 50.

Will Keith be a strict father? He laughed and told us he's like all dads, and will end up being the exact opposite of anything he says.

Now you're up to speed.

Letter to my Nephew

My nephew turned one yesterday, so I wrote this for him. With the excitement of his party, I realized I never posted it. Sigh. Better late than never...and from the looks of his pic, Jackson obviously wore himself out.

Cake does that to you.

Dear Jackson,

Happy 1st Birthday!

You are such a burst of sunshine in our family. As we've gotten to know you over the past 12 months, one thing that certainly stands out about you is your ear-to-ear grin. You are the happiest baby I've ever seen, something I'll admit even though every mother is supposed to say such things about her own children.

Another observation I've made about you, little guy, is that there's just not enough of you to go around. Your other aunt has become known as the 'baby hog,' as she calls out first dibs on holding you the minute your cute face enters a room. Bossy Aunt Shel. One day you can tell her Aunt Deb is your favorite.

Third on the observation list is that you lucked out in the Mom department. It's been fun to watch her document your every move, from wearing a bizarre-looking floppy hat in the pool, to climbing on the dishwasher door, or falling asleep with a golf ball in your hand. I'll warn you, your mom is a little photo-obsessed, so lock the door when you begin potty-training. Otherwise, it's say cheese and then you're stuck with that memory for life, and you can bet it will surface the day you graduate from high school.

Your cousins can't wait to teach you all the things they know, like how to sneak a second bowl of Captain Crunch, or talk your Mom out of wearing underwear, or pee in the mulch instead of going all the way inside for a potty break. You know, all the stuff your mom won't like.

Your dad could win parenting awards, but let's hope you don't learn some things from him, like imitating Michael Jackson on the dancefloor at weddings, putting the thermostat at 80 because it will bring good luck, and those silly things. Yet, he's a pretty good golfer and he loves you more than anything. So, the moonwalk every once in awhile isn't such a bad deal. Just no sparkly glove, please.

Most importantly, your Papaw Mike is watching you from above, and will always be your guardian angel in life. If you ever want to see him, he's the brightest star in the sky. It's probably no coincidence that he thought you hung the moon.

We love you Jackson, and hope your birthday is as special as you.

Love, Aunt Deb

Never Gotten This Call Before

Ever been peed on?

Yeah well, me neither. But I ask after receiving an interesting phone call on Saturday. It was my oldest son.

I was leaving Hobby Lobby when he called from home and said, 'Mom, I just got peed on.' Peed ON? The first thought that ran through my head was, 'How does this happen,' followed by 'Who gets a phone call like this?'

My son went on to explain that he was playing at a neighbor's house, sitting on a swing while the other boy, who is four, was up in the treehouse. Griff says the next thing he knew he felt something wet on top of his head, then his hands.

'I thought it was rain,' he told me, 'but it was warm.' I eventually learned that the little boy felt nature calling, so he dropped his pants and took care of business through the slats of his playhouse. Let's hear it for convenience, though shouting 'lookout below' might've come in handy.

This was a first.

I really couldn't do anything from my vehicle, though having my son walk through a Mike's Express carwash was a consideration. This would be one time I wouldn't forget to remove the yellow protector bag on the rear windshield wiper. I tried not to laugh, told him to strip down and shower with a minimum of four bars of soap, then dip himself into a kiddie pool of Purell.

I was joking, sort of. And I certainly didn't see this one coming.

Apparently neither did he.

Don't All Moms Do This?

What is it about raising boys that literally means you HAVE to inhale caffeine?

I've always had lots of energy, can get by on little sleep, (though not as easily in my 30's), and can make lemonade out of lemons.

But, I had a moment this week. By moment, I mean, a meltdown, a testing of the patience, a who-am-I-and-what-happened-to-the-person-known-as-myself, a...oh, who am I kidding, I snapped. Plain and simple. And I blame it on two things. Not the boys. Nope, instead I'm embarrassed to say my nerves became unraveled by two innocent balloon animals.

How sad it that?

The kids received them while out at Kid's Night, a local restaurant who offers free face-painting by a clown who twists tubes of air into fancy little poodles, oversized cowboy hats, or any other creation of your choice.

It's just enough to please the boys, which inevitably pleases the parents no doubt, and so it goes. We've done this for weeks, every Monday, a family of four mosies in looking tired and hungry, and leaves smiling, with painted faces, full bellies and balloon animals in hand.

And then the incident happened.

During our drive home, the kids were simply holding on to their balloons and each time they moved their body, the balloons would SQUEAK about every six seconds. Every little move they made, I could hear it. Squeak...squeak...and then an even longer squeak. They tossed the balloons in the air, squeak some more, they would teasingly take them from each other, (insert more squeaking here,) and there just aren't enough words to describe the irritation. It was like nails on a chalkboard, or being forced to watch somebody pour a cup of Starbucks coffee down the drain. I'm certain a Vanilla Ice cd would have been more pleasant to the ears.

Finally, I couldn't take it. I HAD to get out of there.

Except I was in a car and that wasn't an option. So, I took a deep breath, told the boys with a plastered-on June Cleaver smile that those beloved little balloons needed to sit quietly in their laps, or...

Momma would POP them.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Never Eaten Taco Bell...Till Now

I know what you're thinking.

You read the title of this post and probably thought 'How is that humanly possible?' Who HASN'T eaten Taco Bell at least once in their lifetime? I'm not talking about me. I have certainly feasted on a burrito or a plate of nachos and cinnamon twists from time to time. Definitely during college when I realized Taco Bell's menu prices seemed to appreciate my budget. Or lack of.

However, history was made this month when my boys both experienced their first meal from the famous mexican fast-food joint. As I write that, I suddenly feel like the poor things have been sheltered for the first 7 and 4 years of their lives.

They've eaten Mexican food, as it's served in school and I make tacos at home. Yet, after several unsuccessful meals where they would eat all on their plates BUT their tacos, I gave up. I got tired of our dinners turning in to negotiations, 'Two more bites of your taco and you can be done,' or 'Just because your shell broke doesn't mean you still can't scoop up the meat.' If they don't like it, they don't like it. There are worse things in life.

Hence, we never made a Run for the Border.

And it didn't dawn on me that they'd never eaten there until someone mentioned the place, and my oldest said, 'Taco Bell? Never been there.'

Yikes.

So, earlier this month, we picked up a bag of stuff from the nearest place, and the boys loved em. Not right away, of course. One wanted the lettuce scraped off, the other made a face at the shredded cheese, but 20 minutes later, they both finished off all of the beef and shell and declared, 'I love Taco Bell!' I was so thrilled you would have thought they'd just been accepted to college. Hey, it's the small things in life. Isn't it our job as parents to educate our children?

Let's hear it for Taco Bell 101.