When A Dignified Cowgirl Goes Camping...And Meets A Racist

A few weekends ago, I did something I haven't done in years. I went away for the weekend with my cowgirls and our horses. We spent the weekend in a cornfield...totally roughing it. Well, roughing it with a horse-trailer that had a shower, toilet and heat. (Things have changed a lot since my last camping trip.)

The first night, we were all excited to cook our steaks on the grill...and sip our lemonade and vodka cocktails while watching our horses nibble on hay. Except...none of us knew how to use the grill. (When Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping...reality show coming soon.) Thankfully, our (brunette) friend, Laina, cooked our steaks for us...but we forgot the steak knives- so we had to tear into the steak like we were on The Walking Dead. (But I think even they have steak knives.)

Later that evening, we joined lots of other cowgals at the barn & drank...and danced...and drank. It was a great group of folks- everyone laughing and genuinely having a great time. (It could've been the fact that it was 35 degrees outside...and the barn had heat.)

We walked back to the trailer about midnight, totally exhausted. The heat felt amazing...right up until the electricity in the trailer...cut off. (When Drunk Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping?) The generator was on...but nothing was working inside the trailer. It was way too much to comprehend. Thankfully we figured out we'd blown a fuse or a circuit or something- and as quick as the power shut off, we got it back on.

The following day was the big ride. I had been concerned that Tristan may revisit his prancing actions from the parade the previous year. He did...but this time there was no elderly couple for him to bolt towards. We pranced and spun circles for roughly 6 hours. It had the potential to be a stressful day- but I totally enjoyed every minute of it. It was so much fun to be around all my girlfriends, all decked out in Dignified Cowgirls gear.

Later that evening, we all met back up at the barn for more dancing...and apple pie. (Did you guys know that isn't just dessert!? I've never been so happy and proud to be southern in my life!) We were all attempting to learn the wobble...since the DJ played it about 27 times...when a fella approached me. 

"I wanna ask you something," says the fella dressed in head-to-toe orange.

Now, if you know me, you know that Drunk Eden can be one of two things- your lovable best friend, or the bitch who will claw your eyes out b/c you pissed her off. And the line between the two? Very, very thin.

"Me? What do you wanna ask me?!" I said.

"I just wanna know why...why all you dance to is that n*gger music!" he says, stone faced, dead serious.

My heart was beating so loud, I could no longer hear any other noises that surrounded me. I floated outside my body and watched myself strangle the orange stranger- and slam his lifeless head into the concrete floor. (It was a dark moment.) 

"What did you just say to me!?" I asked...snapping out of my dark moment, thinking maybe I had missed something. People like this don't really still exist today, do they? 

But I hadn't missed anything. I'd heard him correctly the first time. I wondered why, of all the people dancing in the barn...he chose me to ask this question. I think God sent him to me...because homeboy was about to get an earful from a blonde-cowgirl-rapper-wife. (And a drunk one, at that.)

"Because it keeps racist assholes like YOU away from us...that's why!" I said.

He tried to butt-in...but I pressed on.

"So that's how you classify all hiphop music, huh? That's what you call it? Let me just tell you something..." I proceeded...at this point, I believe my finger was in his face about a quarter of an inch away from his eyeballs. (His friends scattered.)

"Hip hop is all colors, shapes and sizes...you dumb, redneck *^*$)#@)*%&" (Keep in mind, my shirt read "Dignified Cowgirls" on it. The words coming out of my mouth might not have been dignified, but the topic I was preaching? Totally effing dignified.)

About that time, my sistah, walked over to the DJ and requested Jump Around. 

"I, I...I'm not racist! I listen to 50 Cent!" he proudly proclaims.

"Well...good for you. You do realize he's a black man, right? Like our President?" I said. (Not sure why I felt like I needed to toss Barack into my argument...but whatever. I'll blame the apple pie.)

Then I heard the intro to Jump Around...and something took over my entire body, mind, soul and mouth...and I began jumping like I was in the NBA and screaming every word to Jump Around into the orange-redneck-racists face. (There is video of this...that I will take to my grave. House of Pain would probably totally sue me for the horrendous rendition. I could hardly walk the next day.)

I'm not sure if my words really changed the orange-redneck-racists life...but I can pretty much guarantee one thing- he will think twice before he asks a question like that again. I'm pretty sure if my words didn't terrify him...my dancing/jumping did the trick.

Having a Falling Out with a Tooth

It happened. My little one lost her first tooth...and I missed it.

We discovered the loose tooth on the way to the airport. Well...actually, we discovered it's replacement tooth, that was coming in just behind the baby tooth.

"I think I have a cavity!" Little Miss said.

'A cavity...let me see...OMG a new tooth!" I said, clearly shocked.

The entire ride home, Little Miss wiggled the loose tooth. We discussed different types of food she could try eating to loosen it up even more...and even (jokingly) talked about tying a string to it & yanking it out.

A week went by and the tooth was literally hanging on by a thred. I had a shoot to get to...and we had tried everything to get the tooth out before I left. I begged Little Miss to not lose the tooth while I was gone...not this one, anyway...it is the first one.

"My tooth came out. I am sorry," was the text I received about an hour later. I teared up...at my photoshoot...in front of my clients.

I got home and joined the excitement of waiting for the Tooth Fairy! Little Miss was beyond excited and had a bit of a tough time falling asleep. She must've woken up just as the tooth fairy was swapping cash for the tooth- because not only did she (or he? We must be PC!) leave money in the tooth box, but he/she also left a gold coin taped to the outside of the front door! (Creative fairy, eh?)

I am determined not to miss the next tooth-fallout. And apparently, so are her teeth b/c not one is loose.

Spider Mama

Charlotte's Web was one of my most favorite movies in the world, growing up. So naturally, when Little Miss came home from school wanting to snuggle and watch the glorious story about 'some pig'...I was all about it!

After the movie, homework, dinner and some playtime- I was drained. Why was I drained? Because Little Miss's attitude was just as rotten as a tomato that had been in the sun too long. Foul. I fussed...and nothing changed. We argued...nothing changed. By bedtime, my attitude matched hers.

"The only reason I fuss about your attitude and correct your manners is because...it's my job to make sure you grow up to be a nice, kind, polite person..." I explained to her, as we discussed our days before bed.

"I want people to hear you speak and think Wow! What a polite young lady! Not...Ugh, here comes Little Miss Bossy Pants with no manners!"

She looked deep into my eyes as I spoke. I felt like she was really picking up what I was putting down...it was finally resonating with her!

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?" I said, thinking she was going to apologize for her earlier actions.

"I'm glad we aren't spiders...because...if we were- you'd be dead. We wouldn't have met!" she tells me.

"Oh...well, I'm glad we aren't spiders too!" I say.

My question is this. Is she comparing us to spiders because she loves me so much and would be sad if she didn't know me? Or is she thinking that, if I was a dead-spider-mama, I wouldn't be punishing her for her attitude? Either way...I am pretty happy to be a human.

 

DBE Death By Exercise

A few weeks ago, while shopping with one of my most favorite gal-pals at the Maxx, we found ourselves in the workout gear section. (I'm not even sure what the proper term is for that section- shows how often I workout!) She mentioned she'd signed up for a 5k with her work...I joked that if I ran a 5k, the person trying to rob me must be a really horrible thief. Then something happened...you guys- something came over me, I kind of wanted to do the 5k too. It was the strangest feeling. I'm the valedictorian of the couch-to-5k dropout program...where was this odd urge coming from!?

Okay, so maybe it was a chicken-or-the-egg situation...because we'd found these really cute workout pants that matched- which naturally, made me want to buy & wear them somewhere. Then I had to get shoes b/c you can't jalk (jog + walk) a 5k without good shoes! (Who needs an excuse to buy shoes? Not this girl.) In just a few short hours, I went from making fun of the 5k to joining in on the party.

Side note: We might've had to rush right home & try on our workout gear...that may have occurred- while I'm not confirming nor admitting that we did that like two 6 year olds with new dress-up gear.

The 5k started at 7am the following morning- and we were amped. We had a healthy, runner-friendly dinner planned- like total pros. Then the power went out. Like...O-U-T out. It stayed out until midnight. It was like 300 degrees outside- and oh yea, we had been horseback riding so we smelled wonderful. (We ended up having to eat dinner at Outback b/c we really had no other options closeby- but that disaster is a post in itself.)

Running on just a few short hours of sleep, literally, we arrived early to the 5k lineup. We had decided that we should run the very beginning because...well, because of peer pressure. Other people were running & we couldn't just walk...that would be tragic for all involved. (Or just for me. Whatever.) The few minutes jogging nearly killed me. Death by exercise...DBE. I thought I was going to pass out. I was looking into rental homes as we passed by, deciding whether or not they were rented...contemplating if they would report me if I just dove right into their pool. I pushed on...legs on fire. At mile marker 1, I started to feel a little better...a little less panicked. About a half mile later, the burning fire going up my legs disappeared. At the moment, I was pretty sure my legs had just gone numb from the pain. (I learned this was lactic acid build up on my muscles...who knew!)

I felt pretty good about myself once the pain stopped & I realized I really wasn't going to be hauled off in an ambulance. That is, right up until I saw a 5 year old jog passed me. At first, she kind of deflated my happy bubble. But after a few minutes of watching her, I realized- I want to be that little girl. If she can do this, so can I! (And I think I should be entitled to get piggy back rides when I get tired too...just saying.)

So far this whole workout thing is going good...this is the most I've ever kept up with working out in my entire life. Who knew working out in the mornings could give you so much energy and motivation!? I'm definitely not in shape enough to run the next 5k- but I know I'll be able to run more than I did last time...and as long as I can top myself- that's all that matters! Whoop whoop for me! ;-)

Diamonds, A Girls Best Friend

When Little Miss was born, one of the first questions people asked (after "When are you having another one?!") was "Are you getting her ears pierced?! You should just go ahead and do it while she's young & won't remember it."

While I understand this theory, I couldn't imagine letting (and paying) someone to put something sharp through my baby's skin! I had a hard enough time letting her get shots! I always kindly responded, "Oh...when she is old enough to ask for earrings- I will gladly take her to get her ears pierced!"

Over the last 6 years, I've asked Little Miss if she'd like to get her ears pierced numerous times. For the most part, she has emphatically told me absolutely-the-hell-not if it is going to hurt even the slightest little bit. And I was totally fine with that.

About a month ago, Little Miss's great-uncle bought her a beautiful angel necklace with matching earrings- not realizing her ears weren't pierced. She was thrilled with the necklace...so thrilled in fact, that she asked me (a first) about getting her ears pierced.

"Would you let me get them pierced?" she asked, eyes wide & curious.

"Of course!!" I said. (Kind of excited b/c quite frankly, how cute would my little diva be in some sassy little earrings!?)

"But........will it hurt?!"

"It will hurt a little. Not as bad as a shot- but kind of like that," I explained.

"I'm going to ask my friends," she told me.

I can only assume she decided to ask her friends because she knew she would get a response that would make her feel brave enough to move forward with the ear piercing. One friend said it stung, one said it didn't hurt at all...because she had them done when she was a newborn & didn't remember it- but she failed to mention that part.

A few days later we had to go to VA & decided it would be fun to get her ears done while we were there. I began researching piercing locations because you know...I'm nuts & couldn't possibly just go to the Claire's. We selected a location and all our tummies were a-flutter with excitement.

We walked around the counter and looked through hundreds of pairs of earrings before choosing the perfect ones. A younger little girl was getting her ears pierced while we looked...and she was a total champ. She didn't even flinch! (Clearly her parents drugged her. No way homegirl didn't flinch at all!) This got Little Miss all amped- she was sure it wasn't going to hurt. She climbed into the chair with her head held high...until she saw the piercing gun.

"Is that a gun?!" she asked.

"Yes, this is what pushes the earring through your ear!" the clerk said.

While she looked more nervous than before, she was still determined to go through with it. Deep breaths...one, two, three...one ear done!

The look on her face went from excited to horrified. Her eyes filled up and her face turned blood red.

"They...lied to me!!" she yelped, tears rolling.

"Who? Who lied to you?" I asked.

"My friends!! This HURTS!!!!!!!!!!" she exclaimed.

It was safe to say I was positive we would be coming home with only one earring at that point. We talked and snuggled for a few moments and decided that it would be silly to only have one- so bam, the next earring went in. Even though both the clerk and I told Little Miss the second ear always hurt less, she was positive that it hurt even worse than the first one. The only thing that could possibly make her feel better was a trip to the Build-A-Bear store...which ironically (or strategically) happened to be located right across from the piercing place. Oh happy day!

We decided it would be fun to put the receipt from her ear piercing into her new bear...to remember all the fun from the day. (Little Miss kept reminding me that there was nothing fun about the piercing- it hurt & her friends lied to her...it was an awful day.)

Now, almost three weeks later- Little Miss has taken amazing care of her new ear piercings...cleaning them twice a day & turning them often. She says they only hurt the first day & now she loves them! She's been showing off her earrings & letting folks know that diamonds are a girls best friend. (They don't lie to you about piercing pain!) Just a few more weeks before she can change them!

I caught a little video of the blessed event...tears and all. Warning: it will make your heart hurt a little.



Thankfully, Little Miss has forgiven her friends for stretching the truth! Whew!!