Robin's Chicks

Nudge The Nest & Pray They Fly

Ode to my Refrigerator

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1. Flashlight that I can never find when the power is out. Which is surprisingly easy to find while I’m cooking dinner and someone is shining it directly into my eyeballs.

2. Obviously that’s a picture of two unicorns dancing on a rainbow. NEXT. 

3.  Meals this Week. ( AKA meals we ate six months ago because I keep forgetting to menu plan.)  

4. Cute birthday party invite for someone we actually know AND like, therefore we will go. 

5. Quit your meanness. We all need to be reminded. 

6. Invitations to stuff. Importance of remembering to go to said stuff is determined soley by the number of magnets assigned to the invite.  

7. Stuff I will forget to mail this week. Also stuff I will forget to take to the bank this week. 

8. Artwork my kids dug out of the trash. 

 

ODE TO MY REFRIGERATOR 

HAIL YE holder of foods, cold and delicious. Keeper of Diet Cokes and my sanity.

I honor you, oh champion of schedules, artwork my kids keep digging out of the trash, and pictures I am too lazy to frame.

HARK– who goes there? It is thee– Valentine and Halloween candy circa 2009, lurking in the shadows… hiding from my children until I see fit to end your shelf life– or put you in my kids’ Christmas stockings to avoid buying new candy to throw away.

Behold your steadfast presence, your deli meat drawers overflowing with string cheese. Your gogurt runneth over. 

Your steadfast presence reassures me as you bravely guard the holy of holy’s– the good chocolate. For showing such bravery thou shalt be revered as a goodly peacemaker among our people until the end of all days.

Selah. 

 

 

Technogel Magic Marshmallow Pillow Made by Unicorns

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Two of those words are SCIENTIFIC FACTS. The other ones just make me giggle.

Y’all know I went to New York City a few weeks ago for BlogHer, right?

Well what you may not know is that I live in 1937– don’t get me wrong. I love Greenwood, but to give you a little perspective you should know that the closest Target or Starbuck’s is a two-hour drive in any direction. Normally that’s not a really big deal.

BUT– when I need something really specific it costs an arm and a leg to get it. If I have to drive to Jackson, MS or Memphis, TN, not only do I have to buy a tank of gas, I also have to pay a babysitter or take my kids with me. By the time I get to civilization, I have a couple of hours before I have to get back home.

Because of my little time travel dilemma I have become QUITE the fan of online shopping. I have been on a quest for the last two years to find the perfect pillow.

I wake up every single morning with my neck hurting and recently have started having migraines. Every pillow I’ve bought has FAILED ME. Too big, too small, too hot. They all sucked.

Number of pillows purchased in my house over the last two years: 487,982-ish

Every time I go to Civilization, I look for pillows. Every store I go in, I swing through home decor. I have feather pillows, hypoallergenic pillows, memory foam pillows– all of them still leave me going to the chiropractor at least once a week, often twice. I take ibuprofen like they are vitamins.

I have laid in the bed wide awake at night and imagined my dream pillow. I put that on my short list of things to do in NYC: Eat sushi, shop, eat sushi, FIND THE PILLOW OF YOUR DREAMS.

BlogHer has sponsors and these sponsors set up booths in several different Expo Halls around the Hilton NYC. You could wander around and get giveaways, and talk to PR reps for the companies that were there.

My very first trip to the Expo Hall on Thursday night, I came off the escalators and there it was… the heavens opened before me, angels were singing. I grabbed my roommate, Pauline, by the arm and said, “SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! Do you know what this is??”

Pauline: Um? A pillow?

Me: THIS, is the pillow of my dreams. We have to stand right here until somebody comes to work this booth. I have to have this pillow.

Pauline: Ah… okay?

We stood at the Technogel booth and talked while I caressed the pillow. The Expo Hall wasn’t technically open yet but there were people milling around some of the booths. I was willing to wait.

I finally realized I had places to go and people to see so I wrote a love note to the pillow and left it with my card. Yes. Yes I did.

;

My friends at the conference put up with me making my way to the Expo Hall several times a day to visit My Pillow. I would have bought one on the spot had it been an option. I finally got to meet TechnoGel’s marketing director, Brittany, (and if you’ve read “Ketchup” I’ll just say, ‘No relation,’ and we’ll press on.) later that evening.

Me: Did you get my love note?

Her: *takes a step backwards* Oh. That was you?

Me: Yes. I have been looking for this pillow all my life.

Her: This pillow specifically?

Me: Not by brand. But it’s like y’all captured my dreams.

Her: *takes another step back* Have you laid on it?

Did I forget to tell y’all that their whole booth was a bed? Because it was. A bed and two of the most amazing pillows you’ve ever laid your head upon.

I belly flopped on the bed and cried. Just a little.

Me: I. Need. This. Pillow.

Her: I’ve got your info right?

She passed me her card. I kissed My Pillow goodnight and left.

I woke up at 4am that morning with a migraine building. I got out of the bed, where I was literally spooning Sister Wife (double beds are MUCH smaller than I remember them being) and took migraine medicine. My phone happened to be sitting right next to the bed. Which happened to be sitting right next to my stack of business cards. And Brittany’s was right on top. I emailed her at 4am like a crazy psycho stalker.

“Hi. It was nice to meet you tonight. I am in love with that pillow. Up taking a migraine pill because my neck is killing me. Robin”

After getting back to Greenwood, I got an email from Technogel telling me they were sending me a pillow. I was happy. I got my pillow on Tuesday, on Wednesday morning I woke up without a headache for the first time in weeks.

This is what I love about this pillow (The Anatomic):

  • It’s contoured for side & back sleepers
  • The bottom is memory foam but not the crappy stuff the ones I’ve had before were made out of. This one is made out of magic.
  • The top layer of the pillow is gel. Holy. Mother. I can’t even. Y’all. Y’all! Not only does it contour and cradle your head– the pillow stays cool all night long. I DON’T KNOW HOW! But it does. It stays so cool that they have a handy little winter case that comes all zipped up on them to keep your sweet little cheeks from getting too cold in the winter. Is that precious or what?

I talked about this pillow so much to my sister that she ordered one immediately. She has similar neck/headache issues and said the same thing. So there you go. They are pricey but if you are spending dollah dollah billz like I have been on a chiropractor, co-pays, migraine meds and bulk ibuprofen– totally worth the money.

http://sleepcity.com/technogel-pillow-by-dr-scholls/

*full disclosure* Brittany sent me the Anatomic Pillow for free. Possibly because she was afraid that she was going to have to see me again somewhere else. But NO MATTER, I got my pillow. I also ordered one for Zeb at a discount because I didn’t want to have to divorce him if he touched mine. Technogel did not even ask me to post about their product or pay me for my earnest, well-deserved enthusiasm. They gave me a pillow and I fell in love.

***Special thanks to all my BlogHer buddies who went with me repeatedly to visit My Pillow at the Expo Hall, yet efrained from taking pictures of me laid out on the bed and posting them on the internet. ;

Backseat Driver

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My kids are officially the last ones to be picked up from school almost every day. I have maxed out on carpool drama. Folks need to learn how to wait in line. Then teach their kids how to do it. Just sayin’.

Today as we were speeding out the door I yelled at Sadie, “Get some clothes on! We’ve got to hurry!”

Sadie, who prefers as do all of my children, to wander around the house nekkid, grabbed a sundress and pulled it over her head. We jumped in the car and before buckling herself in her seat (which, PRAISE THE LORD, she can now do herself) she took OFF the sundress– that she had been wearing approximately 37 seconds. Sadie proceeded to buckle herself into her carseat, in nothing but her panties.

Picture me– not caring.

We zipped through the deserted line and picked Aubrey up. We were heading home when I yielded at a green light before turning left.

Sadie: GOOOOOOO MOMMA!!!! GOOOOO!

Me: Hush you don’t know what you are talking about.

Sadie: GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Me:  I DO NOT TAKE DRIVING ADVICE FROM NEKKID PEOPLE IN FIVE-POINT HARNESSES! Zip it. I’ve got this.

 

 

 

Lost in New York City or Why My Husband Wants to Put a LoJack on Me

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At the beginning of August I went to New York City for the largest blogging conference in the world. I love New York. I love it in a way that cannot be adequately expressed with a heart on a T-shirt.

I love that you can buy Thai food at 3 a.m. I love that you can walk down the city streets with cabs honking and swerving around each other and become lost in your own thoughts. The hive of activity becomes soothing white noise and leaves your mind free to drift. I love that you can be anonymous and anyone you want to be while standing in a city of millions of people.

I love New York, but even the Big Apple wasn’t a big enough place for 5,000 women to gather. The conference reminded me of a million sleep-overs I attended as a girl– it was really fun. Until it wasn’t anymore. (That’s my BlogHer recap.)

As a child my mother usually had to come and get me at bedtime. In New York I ducked out of sessions and wandered anonymously around the city and was amazed at the peace of mind I had from simply being a face in the crowd.

And let’s be real – when I say “wandered” I mean wandered.

I was, as my sixth grade science teacher, Billie Seals, used to say, “Lost as a ball in high weeds.”

It’s no secret that I’m directionally challenged. You are probably thinking, “Well now… it is New York City! You shouldn’t be embarrassed about getting lost in the Big Apple, I mean it could happen to anyone.” But you would be wrong.

I walked for four blocks around the city trying to find a particular restaurant for a meeting before giving up and calling Zeb.

“I’m lost.” I said in lieu of, “Hello.”

“I knew I should have put a LoJack on you before you left.” I think he was kidding.

“I wish you had. My GPS hates me. I’ve been wandering in a circle for 30 minutes.”

He paused, “You do realize the restaurant you are looking for is one-tenth of a mile from your hotel?”

“Obviously. That’s why I left 30 minutes early. Help me. People are starting to stare.”

He laughed and tracked my phone online, giving me directions until I safely found my way to the restaurant.

Our conversation was mostly this:

Him: TURN AROUND YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY.

Me: No I’m not. I already walked down that street.

Him: TURN. AROUND.

I turned around and guess what? BOOM. There it was. When I reached the entrance I turned and realized I could actually see inside the hotel’s lobby from the restaurants front door– it was that freaking close.

I made it back to the hotel totally unassisted. *high fives*

The days I spent actually shopping and wandering around the city, I depended on Sister Wife (best friend, we share everything but clothes and husbands) for navigation. She lived in Paris for a semester in school and grew up in the French Quarter of New Orleans. So she’s bilingual. She speaks English and Directions.

When anyone starts giving me directions with, “Go north…” I want to slap them hard— just once– across the face and say, “Do you kiss your MOTHER with that mouth?“

Sister Wife navigated the subway system with relative ease and worried about me when I walked from our 6th Avenue hotel to shop on 5th Avenue. That’s right. One block.

She was right to be concerned.

I texted her this:

Proof of life!! Aren’t you proud of me?

Sister Wife: I’ll save that for when you make it back.

She’s always one step ahead.

I did in fact make it back to the conference AND across the street to the Warwick Hotel where I got to meet my lovely agent, Jenny Bent, live and in person for the first time. (I signed with her three years ago-ish.)

Sister Wife’s mad nav skillz kept us on track as we shopped all day on Sunday. After walking for about 10 hours we threw in the towel and took a cab to dinner at Basta Pasta (thank you very much Jessica Bern who when I asked her where we should eat Sunday night, took my phone out of my hand and called and made me a reservation. I still dream about the sweet potato gnocchi.)

It was pouring rain so after dinner we hailed a cab. (Don’t we sound so fancy??) We hopped in and Wifey said, “We want to go to 37 West 17th Street.”

The rain drowned out the driver’s voice and his accent was unfamiliar, so I repeated the address thinking he might have had the same problem understanding us.

“We want to go to 37 West 17th Street,” I said loudly.

He enunciated perfectly. Slowly repeating himself so the rednecks in the backseat could understand him, “THAT’S WHERE YOU ARE.”

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks for the ride?” I squeaked out as we collapsed in the backseat laughing.

I enjoyed the city, the shopping and the food but I’ll be thrilled to no longer need my husband, a satellite  and a cellphone to walk one-tenth of a mile without getting lost.