Race Weekend in Indy

Each of us on the show had the chance to take the Indy 500 pace car home for a night, where I immediately heard, 'Mom, are YOU in the race?' Okay, he's five, but still...maybe I need to slow down a bit while running errands with my little guy.

Join us for our annual Breakfast at the Brickyard broadcast raceday morning from 7 am-noon.

We'll be talking to Jim Nabors, Florence Henderson, the Pacers Jeff Foster, the entire Penske racing team, including Helio Castroneves, Jewel...who is singing the National Anthem, and more. One of my faves will be chatting up the 'milk guy,' the person who handles the cold bottle of milk presented to the winning driver in Victory Circle. Who would've thought the drivers are given a choice of 2%, skim or whole? We plan to ask the milk guy to do us a special favor when he's standing next to the new winner of the Indy 500.

Stay tuned.

a chat with my niece during a sleepover

Her: You know what? I just realized I won't be rubbing mom's feet tonight.

Me: You rub your mom's feet?

Her: Yep. I set up a spa.

Me: Wow, the boys would never go for that. So, how bout a footrub? (Laughing)

Her: Sure! It's five dollars.

Me: WHAT? Five dollars? That's pretty steep.

Her: Okay, I'll cut you a deal. One dollar. Final offer, Aunt Deb.

9 things that bring a smile

The 'Mistake Roll' at Wasabi. Even my anti-sushi husband loves it. It's that good.

Danny Gokey's song, 'My Best Days are Ahead of Me.'

A pair of hoop earrings.

Donuts on Sunday mornings.

A picnic dinner in the living room.

Excedrin for migraines.

The freckles on my 8-year-old's nose.

Old snapshots.

The boys' secret handshakes with their dad.

3 months of craziness

Some have asked, others may have noticed, but my posting hasn't been as often as I'd done in the past.

Not by choice. And not my permanent plan, though someone pulled the busy lever in our home, leaving me barely any time to write. Or even log on to my laptop, for that matter.

Just a note to say things should change in the very near future. Greg and I realized two months ago that our schedule was about to get very hectic, due to a change in his job and Hayden's new school hours, and we learned the meaning of 'juggle' in a whole new way. Throw in BOTH boys playing baseball, and I'm lucky if they end up at the diamond not wearing the other one's socks and heaven forbid, me wearing a cup. It's that crazy.

Sanity is in sight, however, with school out in two weeks. And a big thanks to my mom, Greg's Dad and my sister Kristen, who helped us cover the days Hayden wasn't in school. I'm sure his Elvis impersonations alone kept you entertained. Again, thank you.

Thank you very muuuuuuuch.

a potato chips wish

My father would have turned 66 today.

He's been gone a little shy of two years now, though it seems like yesterday. I'm sure a decade from now, I will still occasionally listen to my Statler Brother's cd to remind me of him, or buy a can of Pringles because they were always his favorite. Funny how nothing changes.

Like anyone who has lost a parent, I look for signs that Dad is still with me. And two of them are right in front of me, his grandsons. They echo his silly sense of humor, and know how to make a stranger laugh. My father had a knack for putting a smile on your face with his sarcastic humor, which I see in my kids. Dad once told me that being with the boys 'just made his day,' and I felt the same about him.

I plan to visit him this afternoon, and leave a tiny bottle of Coke, which he loved more than I love Starbucks, by his graveside. I told the boys at breakfast that today would have been Papaw Mike's birthday, and they immediately belted out the traditional 'Happy Birthday' tune over scrambled eggs and toast. Greg glanced at me and smiled. Then without hesitation, our 5-year-old ran to the pantry, grabbed the chips and held 'em to the sky, saying 'Come back, Papaw.'

If only chips had that kind of power.

Happy birthday, Dad.

soooooo not ready for this

My five-year-old told me something last night that I wasn't prepared to hear.

'I kissed Jenny,' he said.

You did WHAT?

He threw it out there as if it was part of his daily routine, you know, like 'I brushed my teeth,' or 'Yeah, I ate my vegetables.'

You kissed Jenny? You can't blurt this out in passing as you run through the kitchen in search of your cleats. I mean, what happened to the days where boys are grossed out by girls and pigtails, and kisses gave you cooties? We apparently skipped that phase. Hayden was quick to notice my surprise, and felt like detailing the experience would help improve the situation:

Him: Don't worry, Mom. I kissed her softly.

Me: What?

Him: Yeah, like this. (Imitating his pucker.)

Me: How many times?

Him: Oh, 4 or 5.

Me: How did this happen?

Him: She told me she wanted me to be her husband.

HELP ME.

a bedtime chat with an 8-year-old

Him: Love you, Mom.

Me: Love you too, buddy.

Him: You're the best mom I've ever had!

Me: I'm the ONLY mom you've ever had.

Him: (Paused) Yeah...you've gotta point.

Mayor Ballard is a good sport

Thanks to Indianapolis Mayor Greg Ballard for letting us have some fun this morning in the studio.

Good times.

I got photobombed

Our producer, Gator, decided to have some fun while I posed with Josh from Steel Magnolia.