who's the redhead?

Watch for Kellie Pickler today on Ellen.

She has recently dyed her hair red. Or auburn. Or whatever shade you wanna call it.

She told us a couple of years ago that she cut her hair short to be different from the other Nashville ladies, and she continues to keep us guessing.

What do you think?

the text message I received today

I'm often accused of not keeping my gas tank full...or at least not full enough. I'll admit it, it's one of my bad habits. As a result, I've run out of gas a time or two.

Or three.

And so this morning, as I was preparing to leave for work, I remembered I didn't have much in the fuel tank. And yes, the fuel gauge light would probably be illuminated. So, I decided to swap cars with Greg, knowing he would have time to fill up in the morning, and figured it was safer than me stopping at a gas station in the middle of the night. Keep in mind, Greg is much neater than I, and never keeps even a straw wrapper on the floor of his vehicle. Yay for me, not a good deal for Greg, who ended up driving my car, which still had yesterday's Starbucks cup and about a week's worth of receipts in the passenger seat.

Oops.

That explains the text I got from him as I left work today. Just five simple words. It read...

'Your car is a pit.'

the stress of aisle five

Grocery shopping.

My co-host, Kevin, hates it...I love it. Something fun about it, that or I'm just really in need of more excitement in my life. I took my youngest son along for a trip to get the basics, and shopping with him brought back memories of when I went to the grocery as a freckle-faced girl.

Hayden struggled with choosing a cereal in aisle 5, surrounded by Frosted Flakes, Cookie Crisp and Fruity Pebbles. I watched as others push their carts past us, quickly grabbing a box of Oats N' Honey or Grape Nuts and crossing cereal off their list.

And there we stood.

I asked Hayden to make a decision, and he explained that he couldn't. 'It's just too hard.' Other moms would smile knowingly, probably having been there at one time or another, including one who agreed with my 4-year-old, 'It is tough, isn't it?' I eventually realized we had a better chance of winning the lottery than selecting a cereal, so I suggested we move on to our list and come back. The idea seemed to bring some relief to my overwhelmed child, dazed by the shelves of colorful boxes filled with stuff dentists' hate.

So we mosied over to select some ground chuck. After several minutes looking to find the kind I wanted, Hayden announced, 'Look Mom, I can stick my finger in the plastic.' Not good, of course, though I remember doing the same thing when I was little. There was something mesmerizing about the plastic wrapped tightly around a hunk of beef that creates a bubble-effect, begging children to poke their fingers through.

We continued shopping, which included a curious pit-stop inside the freezer to see the waffle fries, don't ask, made a visit to the restroom and eventually made it home with groceries in hand, only to have my husband say...

'You forgot the cereal.' And we did.

Carrie stops by again

Carrie will visit us on the morning show Monday.

The girl has a busy November. Her new album Play On hits stores next week, not to mention the CMA Awards she will co-host with Brad Paisley November 11th in Nashville. Last year, she told us just before hosting the show that she was a bit nervous, and asked us to 'say a little prayer' that she wouldn't trip and she would remember to 'check the barn door.' Love it.

Check back for more on our chat with Carrie!

life lessons on the road

That road trip I mentioned?

I learned some things. Which tends to happen when you spend 15 hours in a car with three other people. So, I compiled them into one big, long run-on sentence since that was, frankly, easier. And here it is:

When you are leaving for Florida, and plan to drive, be prepared to return home at least once after exiting your neighborhood because you will forget something, like I forgot my cell phone charger and the thought without my cell phone was more devastating than finding that hair in my baked potato last week, and by all means, be prepared to have your 8-year-old read the walls inside a gas station bathroom at two in the morning when you stop for a 'break,' only to be shocked when you read them yourself, and all I can repeat here from that wall are the words, 'I like to...,' and you can imagine the rest but probably still wouldn't come close, and be fully aware that when your husband asks you to drive because he's tired, then asks you to get back in the passenger seat after you've only been behind the wheel ten minutes, he isn't being kind, he simply doesn't like your driving, and always consider shouts of 'When are we gonna be there,' before you've even hopped on 465 as you're leaving as major red flag indicators of how the trip will go, and who decided that I needed to be reminded of boiled pecans on giant billboards, not to mention the Adult Bookstores, every tenth of a mile while driving through Georgia, and why can you order breakfast for dinner at Cracker Barrel but not dinner for breakfast?, and of course you'll find it adorable when your youngest son, who took his costume to trick-or-treat at his Nana's house in Florida turns to you on the porch and says, 'Alright, let's go to the next house,' but you can't because it's not quite Halloween, and you wonder how the trip back somehow doubles in hours or so it seems, though you know it's all worthwhile when you pick your 4-year-old up at preschool the day after returning home and he says...

'I miss our vacation.'

another road trip to talk about

Sorry for the absence.

We went on Fall break, and for a husband who plans everything out in advance, we literally decided to go the night prior to departing. And who uses the word departing with the exception of airline employees?

Anyway, the day we left, we didn't pack until one hour before. It was fun being spontaneous, and we road tripped as we love to do, complete with kids pumping their fists in the air, yelling 'Road trip, road trip,' about twenty times before even leaving our neighborhood, and me telling Greg that I forgot something, only to return home. One of my many observations while winding through the mountains miles and miles from home? There are waaaaaay too many 'ADULT Bookstore' billboards. I think I lost count around thirteen.

But more later, including why it's not a good idea to use a gas station restroom. Gotta make something quick for dinner, and and I realized we're out of milk.

So it's off to the grocery...

laughing in the checkout line

Stopped by the grocery today to buy a few things for Griff's Fall party.

In front of me at the checkout was an older lady, with gray hair, reddish cracked lips and a purse slung over her wrist. She was hunched over and moved her frail body with careful steps and I noticed she struggled to lift the two gallons of milk back into her cart. She reminded me of someone's grandmother, not exactly mine, but someone's, and she seemed so sweet and timid.

Offering to help, I lifted the containers for her and placed them in her basket. She smiled back, as the clerk handed her a receipt with a coupon, stating she could use it the next time she buys a Hallmark card.

Not that she'd be redeeming the coupon anytime soon.

The lady shot back, 'I'm not buying a Hallmark. They want too damn much money!'

And with that, she gave her cart a shove and walked away. Ok, so I was wrong about the timid thing.

Valerie Bertinelli and other stuff

Valerie Bertinelli joins us on the show tomorrow.

Call me crazy, but I'm fairly certain she won't be wearing that bikini...though the guys are still giddy. My co-host, Jim, made a comment that he might be the one to wear such a thing, but let's hope he's kidding.

Meanwhile, it's Crazytown around the house, where one child is recovering from the flu, and since Saturday has asked repeatedly, 'Mom, will I be sick tomorrow?' As if the little flu fairy slaps an end date on the virus, similar to the date stamped on the bag of deli turkey in our fridge. I tell him no, yet he found himself still feeling ill the following morning and told me I lied.

Ok then. So much for being optimistic.

On a different note, we've been having trouble keeping my little one in bed, long before the flu bug hit, which results in several getups after we tuck him in, though I believe I solved the problem. I told our 4-year-old that for every time he gets out of bed to come pet the dog, say goodnight a fourth time, or rub antibiotic cream on a scar that doesn't exist, Santa takes a gift out of his bag and puts in it Joey's bag down the street.

His response? 'Who's Joey?'

Who knows, but I'll bet he's sleeping.

this photo made me smile

Been a long day...in fact, I just sat down since leaving for work this morning.

Once we got home from dinner, the boys put on a concert for us in the basement, (I even caught a guitar pick...rock on!), and tucked 'em in bed. Been thinking a lot about my dad, missing him and wishing he were here to see the kids latest accomplishments, hear their Papaw spottings when they see the night's first star in the sky, and know how much we think of him.

So, as I logged on to my laptop tonight, with thoughts of Dad on my brain, a photo of Kellie Pickler's grandfather enjoying a miniature Coke brought a smile to my face.

It was my Dad's favorite drink, one he chugged relentlessly, and he bought the syrupy sodas by the cartons full. He almost always had a little Coke in one hand and a can of Pringles in the other. He drank them like they were water, sometimes 2 or 3 at at time, and loved to ice down the glass bottles in a tub when company visited. Dad stocked up on tiny Cokes the way other men stock up on batteries, and I never knew others outside of our circle to drink them, until now.

I like this guy already.

Santa may not be able to bring this

It's Sunday, and my youngest has the flu.

I was startled awake this morning around 4 am, as he told me he was about to get sick and 'hurry!' That was nice. Poor guy, who by the way, isn't the nicest of patients. I tried rubbing his back, and was told 'Stop, Mom...I'm awfully tired, ya know.' Alrighty.

Hoping to at least distract him from his belly ache, I asked him what I could get him to make him feel better, and he said, 'A guitar?'

Ummmmmm...no.

I suggested maybe Santa could fill that request, so he rattled off some additional items on his Christmas list, clarifying, "I want the guitar used by Joe Jonas, and I would love to have his clothes and...hair. It's not good being blonde.'

Hope Santa makes wigs.

thank goodness it's...Saturday?

It's Saturday, the morning I look forward to each week.

The day when we all sleep in until we choose to roll out of bed. The day we make donut runs in our pj's. The day of mouths covered in chocolate frosting, milk mustaches, and reminders to 'use your napkin, not your sleeve.'

Saturday mornings mean cartoon marathons, stepping over the dog, sipping coffee with nowhere to go, and a silly 4-year-old with sweatbands up one arm. They mean lounging on the couch, reading the news, hugs from the boys, and lazy lunches well past lunchtime. Throw in the chime of the doorbell, neighbors wanting to play, the scent of laundry soap and don't forget the whir of the washer. It's the day the beds get made, and the milk in the fridge runs low.

Saturdays mean hearing the echoes of little feet up and down our steps, high-fives from the basement following the swoosh of a basketball that slid through the net. It's the day the pillows get straightened on the couch and the candle flickers in the kitchen, only because we're too busy to remember it during the week. Saturdays mean wearing no makeup until the day is half over, and the boys wearing their favorite team jerseys.

It's also the day for a little bickering and a louder home, but nevertheless...

It's Saturday.

It's like being on Survivor

How has my household managed to run out of toilet paper?

RUN OUT. No squeezin' the Charmin' around here, because it's non-existent. The worst part? I just went to the grocery yesterday. And it was on the list. And I left without it. The problem being it's one of those required things. Not optional, if you get what I'm saying. Sort of a must-have, unlike the time I got home and realized I forgot the Ritz crackers. You can survive without a few sleeves of round, salty crackers.

You can't survive without 12 jumbo rolls of Quilted Northern.

Too bad homes don't come with dispensers like we see in restaurant bathrooms, where a roll of tissue is on 'standby' if you will, just waiting to drop down when the first in line runs out.

So, I'm off to the grocery. Some things in life are necessary, like toothpaste, and this is one of 'em.

does your car have one?

See those eyes?

They belong to my 4-year-old son. They are the same eyes that have the ability to make me cave when he asks for ice cream in a cone, rather than a bowl, or 'five more minutes' before bedtime. His lashes are the ones I try to create for myself with a curler, but no luck.

Those eyes grew as wide as my hips since having children while we chatted last night inside my car during his big brother's football game. Hayden surveyed a panel of buttons in the car, and began pointing and asking what they 'do.' One was for the temperature on the rearview mirror, one was for the garage door opener and another for the dome light. He eventually came across another one, and at that point I was out of answers, laughed and said something like, 'That's the button Mommies push when their kids aren't being good listeners.'

Cue the oversized eyes.

Hayden innocently asked what happens, will the 'directions' lady come on and tell him to behave, or will he go to 'juvy,' and yes I'm still trying to figure out where he learned that word, or does it trigger some sort of alarm?

I told him I was teasing, so no alarms, and certainly no juvy. I hugged my inquisitive son, but for a brief moment in time he was wide-eyed and quiet.

And then the moment passed.

the things we talk about off-air

My co-host, Jim, is fond of his hair, kinda like I'm fond of large bags of Wintergreen Lifesavers.

It's his pride and joy, so I felt obliged to comment when I noticed this morning that he'd gotten his haircut. It's become a running joke, since the guys don't usually notice such things with me, but what men do? I may mention in passing that I was getting my hair cut yesterday, and Kevin will say, 'You did?' Anyway, here's the conversation:

Me: Did you get your hair cut, Jim?

Jim: Yep. Sure did, does it look okay?

Me: Looks fine. See, I notice these things.

Jim: Did you get yours cut?

Me: Well, no.

Jim: See, I noticed that you didn't.

would you wear this in public?

Busy day...so I didn't get to post, but will later.

For now, I thought I'd leave you with a couple of pics of the show's producer, Gator, who is...well, unique to say the least. He sort of marches to the beat of a different drum, but that's how we like him. I took these at the Children's Museum over the weekend, remember Sandy, the pony?...where I ran into our pal who dressed the part of a 'nerd.'

I noticed some people wondering if this just isn't how he dresses all of the time. Yet, this is why we love Gator. Kids were encouraged to dress in costume, but he's a kid at heart and knows no boundaries.

Brad Pitt's got competition if you ask me.

a sweet moment goes awry

Haven't forgotten my story of attending the Taylor Swift show last week with four energetic children.

It's coming soon, I just didn't have time over the weekend to write about the 15 things I jotted down on my napkin from the concession stand. It will take some time to figure out my writing through the large ketchup stain.

In the meantime, Greg and I took the boys to the Children's Museum Saturday for a special event party. It was a great time, and we were able to check out the museum once the party festivites ended. Up on the top floor, my 4-year-old came across a mechanical pony that required a nickel to ride. The sign next to it stated the pony had been admired by kids for many years at the infamous Atlas Supermarket, which has since closed in Indianapolis.

Hayden asked if he could give 'Sandy' a try, the name of the pony which was clearly stated on the sign, so I dug a nickel out of my purse and helped him climb atop the saddle.

The second I let the dingy nickel drop from my fingers, Sandy kicked into gear and my youngest son looked as though he had just seen his father in a dress and high heels. It was obvious he was in for the ride of his life. He immediately screamed for me to not let him fall, then begged 'Get me down, now,' repeatedly, just in case I didn't hear him the first time.

Have to admit, I myself was shocked at the speed of the old Atlas pony, and had to laugh when it came to stop. My son jumped off quickly, in fear that the pony would somehow malfunction and take him on round two, then turned to walk away, swung around and angrily yelled...

'Bad Sandy. Bad!'

Needless to say, I never got a photo.

this sure beats potty training

Moms and Dads usually celebrate similar milestones with their children as they age.

Losing a tooth, the first day of school, getting your drivers license, and on and on. As of this morning, my 4-year-old would like add a new one to the list. He woke me up today to inform me of his cause for celebration:

'Mom, I can now peel a banana all by myself!'

Who knew?

taylor rocked indy...details soon

New outfits for my nieces...$50

Dinner at the concession stand...$31.00

My 4-year-old saying his favorite part was the escalator...

PRICELESS.

the power of Taylor

Hey, in case you didn't hear, Taylor Swift's in town! Might as well call the city Taylorapolis, because people everywhere are talking about it.

Just got a call from my sister.

Turns out my niece phoned her from the nurse's office at school this afternoon, following complaints of feeling under the weather. As my sis spoke to her daughter, she couldn't help but laugh when Livy whispered into the phone...

'I don't feel good, Mom, but there is NO WAY I'm missing Taylor Swift tonight.'

Can you blame her?

things that bring a smile

We've all been there.

Certain scents or songs that take us back to days when we were younger. Sometimes what jogs the memory is tempting, such as glimpses of Hostess twinkies in the store, which used to be my after-school snack as a kid. Ok, maybe not the healthiest of snacks, but I had a cool Mom who let me eat them.

Other memory joggers?

Chocolate milk. I can remember pouring it into Dad's coffee cups with my sisters and pretending we were drinking coffee. The creamy tan beverage was a symbol of being an adult, wise beyond our years.

Station wagons. I still remember the wood-paneled wagon my parents used to drive, with the backseat that faced traffic behind us. We spent miles and miles waving to drivers, who often waved back.

Toast. It reminds me of the toast my mother used to butter and bring to me on a plate while I fixed my hair before school each morning. Of course, it tasted like hairspray by the time I ate it, but it was the thought that counts.

The smell of chlorine. Reminds me of summer days when we swam all day long, only to wake up and do it again, even though our suits hadn't dried from the day before.

White deposit slips in the back of a checkbook. I used to beg my mom and dad for those little slips from time to time, and pretend to write checks with money I did not have.

Giant caramel-filled chocolate candy bars. Every once in a while I come across these, and they remind me of the bars I sold as an 8th grader for fundraisers. I carried them around in the little cardboard box they were shipped in, and inevitably had to tell my dad that we owed money for the two that I ate.

Wallpaper. We don't have any in our home, but I remember writing on my butterfly wallpaper with a pen as a child, hiding it with pillows on my bed so I wouldn't get in trouble.

Good times.

observations...we all make 'em

A friend at work told me a few years back that I seem to ask the same question any time I hear about a tragic news story.

'Did they have kids?'

Maybe it's a couple who died in plane crash, or a woman diagnosed with cancer, or a soldier who is missing. I guess I can't stand the fact that there may be kids without a parent or facing any hardship. So, that got me thinking, a little less seriously, about observations I make of others.

My youngest son asks me every night, without fail, while being tucked in: 'Will you stay up? Will Dad stay up? Will you leave your bedroom door open?'

Every time I answer my oldest with 'Yeppers,' instead of yes, he follows with 'And jeepers.' He's done it for years.

My husband Greg almost always puts a pen in his mouth as he looks at our checkbook and organizes bills.

My pal and co-host Kevin Freeman speaks in pairs on occasion. For example,'I know what you mean, I know what you mean.'

My other co-host, Jim, says the same thing each time he ends a phone call from a listener in the studio...'Bye now.'

A friend of mine will often use the phrase 'Johnny Come Lately' when we chat, yet I'd never heard of it until this year.

And another observation that I make? That I...

...make a lot of observations.

look for this woman in the 4th row

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We surprised a teacher this time around in our Taylor Swift Wildest Dreams Giveaway, and she was so thrilled the kids were treated to NO HOMEWORK!

Third row seats up for grabs tomorrow!

she cried, I cried...& you will, too

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We made someone's Wildest Dreams come true this morning with 5th Row Taylor Swift tickets, plus backstage passes!

I love this woman's reaction. We go back on the streets tomorrow...will it be you?

something you don't see every day

Kellie Pickler in a hot dog costume...I'm sure it's a tofu dog.

he's honest...brutally

Thanks again to my younger, but not that much younger, sis who hung out with my 4-year-old last night.

She had him over for a few hours at her place, and he was excited to play with his toddler cousin. Yet, a couple of hours into it, my sister sent me a text that read, 'Hayden cracks me up. He just told me...Aunt KiKi...

...your house is boring.'

the Taylor video we told you about

Love this, especially Taylor and her mother speaking in British accents. By the way, the Ronnie Dunn impersonation of Taylor that we played this morning on the show is at the beginning.

Enjoy.

an hour in the toy aisle

Sometimes choices are difficult ones.

You know, whether or not to go on vacation or save money during this economy, what percentage of your paycheck should go to your 401k, and...what toy to buy at Target.

That was the choice that plagued my oldest son last month, when we made a trip to the bullseye store to spend a gift card he received for his birthday. The dilemma? I promised him we would go, yet I had his younger brother with me. Not the smartest thing I've ever done. I knew better than to think letting one kid choose a gift while the other one stands there watching would go smoothly or without some sort of conflict.

Of course, I tried all the pre-warnings, the reasoning, the explaining that this was a gift for big brother's birthday and his birthday was just around the corner, and we all seemed to be in agreement. 'Seemed' would be the key word. By the way, I'd love to know when birthdays turned into celebrations for every child in the family, not just the one turning a year older? Gotta love grandparents, who will often bring a thoughtful something for the sibling so they won't feel slighted. But, it wasn't that way growing up. And even more importantly, that was okay. I got that my sister was having a birthday and my time would come. That's how the aging process works. Happy birthday to you, and eventually happy birthday to me.

And so there we were, in the toy aisle, standing among 7 aisles of gadgets and games that made little boys heads swirl, and I found myself refereeing both sides of the fence. My oldest was torn, so torn, on whether to buy the Nerf dart double-shooter complete with laser light for use in the dark, or the Bakugan, the new one that so-and-so brought to school that day, and boy wouldn't that 'just be so cool?' Or this item or that item, as he became lost in the world of shiny and new.

We didn't really have to be anywhere else, so I stood by with patience I never knew I had while one tried to make the decision of his life and the other pleaded that he needed a shiny and new something, too.

My 8-year-old eventually settled on something, and I caved in regards to my youngest, allowing him to choose a helicopter from the endcap for three bucks, all the while wondering if those red 'Help' phones randomly placed throughout the store are for parents stuck in the toy aisle who need some sort of counseling.

We arrived home to find our dinner cold and a husband who wondered if we went to Target in another state, and I watched as my kids ran out back to play...

...only to take turns with the fascinating three-dollar helicopter.

Love it.