Growing up as a little girl in the South, our families and fellow girlfriends start discussing our hypothetical weddings at an extremely early age. From flower choices to shades of bridesmaids’ dresses, you may or may not be surprised how often the topic is thrown around. As a child of the eighties, I knew exactly what was being discussed every time I heard the Steel Magnolias quote, “my colors (pronounced like kullahs) are blush and bashful.” And while all the little southern girls may be programmed to daydream of their kullahs and distinct wedding palettes, they also dream about the event that leads up to the main event- the proposal.

As I become a seasoned mother, I find things coming out of my southern mama mouth that surprise even me. The urban dictionary defines momism as “things that your mom tells you that can be considered wise, but most of the time you just do whatever you feel like and the one time she’s right, you will never hear the end of it.” I laughed out loud when I read this. I tend to think of a momism exactly the way the urban dictionary does, but I also categorize it by any saying that a mother has on repeat through her child rearing years. The latest momism that is actively going around my house (and has been for the last few months) tends to get many laughs, although it is simply a-not-so-sugarcoated truth. For whatever reason, my husband has convinced my eight-year-old son that a buzz cut would be a great idea for him to have this summer. Now, some may agree with the particular hairstyle, given the heat and humidity of the South, but I strongly disagree. And I make it well known that I am not in agreement when I simply respond with my very own momism, “honey, you just don’t have the ears for a buzz cut.” He always looks at me in the most confused way and responds, “What does that mean?”

Quick warning- this may not be the story for you if you are a vegetarian. And, I’m pretty sure I have written that line before. As the Fourth of July is closing in on us, I find myself planning, packing, and getting groceries for the upcoming celebration. And when I think of the Fourth of July, I think of delicious barbecue- especially the ribs. You see, here in the South, and here in my home, ribs are somewhat of a staple.

I find it very interesting to learn that nicknames have been around since the fourteenth century. This is when the term “eke name” was first used. The actual meaning of

“eke name” is to have an additional name. Now, one thing I am sure of is that here in the South, we take our nicknames very seriously, and boy do they stick- whether good or bad. And they’ll stick when you least expect it. Personally, it is rare that I even hear my true name anymore, and when I do, it is usually in a business setting or with people that have not known me for too long.

These days, with especially how hot it is outside, most of us are looking for a cold, convenient drink to quench our thirst. If you’re like me, a beer is too heavy, and a wine sometimes too sugary or strong for the early afternoon. I tend to lean toward the new-ish hard seltzer drinks in a can. They are perfect for a hot afternoon on the lake, a long day on the beach, while enjoying a ride on a pontoon boat, or to whet your whistle during a back yard barbecue. I just want to know where these suckers were when I was in college. Tailgating in The Grove at Ole Miss would have been so much easier. I also kick myself for not thinking of the idea, but I digress.

  This past Tuesday night, I was driving home from a fellow author’s book release party. The sky was filled with an absolutely beautiful, flamingo pink hue which can make my five- year- old daughter gasp in the most innocent and joyful way. The streets were still steamy from the aftereffects of a strong, southern, summer-shower. And the fireflies of these longer days were finally making their debut.

A few years ago, my husband and I were in the throes of working long days while juggling our first child. To be honest, not much has changed except vocations and another child full of energy added to the mix. Regardless, when I look back on those first few years of parenthood and the all-consuming juggle act, I think of stories like the one I’m about to tell and just hope that sleep deprivation was to blame on this one.  

I have been in my beloved college town of Oxford, Mississippi for the past few days. The sleepy small southern town is filled with memories at each corner I turn- many that make me laugh out loud as I remember them. Some of the funniest ones I have are from the ways we had to start “figuring it out” when we ran out of money as broke college students who should have prioritized food over a big night out at the bar...a lesson usually learned after the fact.