Posts tagged mom
Vintage Tea Pots and Baby Showers.

During my comute downtown, I'm almost always on my phone talking to some member of my family. This morning was no different. Although, {praise the heavens} this morning's conversation could have gone a little differently had I not invested in an otterbox for my iphone. mom: A lot of your friends are getting married or are married. me: yes.

Hello captain obvious. For the record, my parents are completely okay with me being a twenty-something pursuing my career and not chasing after a ring. After all, News 9 did say today Oklahoma is ranked very high on the divorce index.

mom: This means a lot of them might start having babies. me: That is the natural progression of most marriages.

At this point, I have no idea where she is going with this. She's spent a significant amount of the summer playing with my cousin's teeny humans and I'm about to throw up a little prayer she hasn't jumped ship looking for the nearest Grandparents-R-Us island.

mom: Well, I just have the cutest set of vintage tea pots that would be perfect for a baby shower. me: ____________ silence.

This is when I begin sorting through my option of responses only my 15-year-old sister dripping in sarcasm would appreciate.

mom: So, can you volunteer me to throw one when your next friend gets pregnant? me: Well, I guess you can save them for 10 years or so. mom: They'll be too old to be considered vintange by then.


So, friends, if you plan on turning into one of those teeny-human-havers anytime soon - my mom is available to throw you a baby shower. She'll probably even be available to give play-by-play facebook updates if you're interested.


7 a.m.


7 a.m. Saturday morning there was a horrendous knocking on the front door, which resulted in the jarring of my sleeping puppy. Her barking reaches octaves known only to pre-pubescent boys.

Stumbling out of bed, I peeked through the front window only to see – my mom – cheerfully picking a few dead buds from the petunias on the front porch.

Anything before 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning should be illegal.

We went to the farmer’s market.



This, my friends, is what you refer to as a steal.


“Brooke, hold the plant like a fish – ‘ya know – so it looks bigger.”

I'm not ever sure what type of flower this one is.

The rest of the day consisted of garage sales, antique stores, garage sales....

Who knew that could be so productive... or fun. Weird.