Meet the RHOC

We recently received an email that started like this:

Okay, you Okie housewives, I hope you will consider me to be an honorary RHOK. I think my chances are pretty slim, but felt I should put my best foot forward anyway. I don't live in Oklahoma (anymore), but I know how to pronounce Muskogee.  I am a former resident of Lawton and Tulsa, a graduate of Memorial High School. In my past life, I was a frequent guest at the home (and dinner table) of "The Doc's" parents. I even attended the wedding of Ms. Priss and the Doc one hot and steamy Texas summer day! I am not a housewife, but I am a wife and I do live in a house. I am not a SAHM, but I am, in fact, a mom, a mother of four (three boys and one girl). I am a school nurse at an elementary school and an advocate for all children, especially those with special needs.

I'm not certain what you are looking for in a guest post, but feel that my observations of the following are worth sharing...somewhere!

And with that kind of intro, there is a guarantee you will be showing up here on our website!
We would like you to meet Mrs. Nightengale!  We are hopeful to have many future guest postings from our honorary RHOK star.  In fact, it is convenient that she lives in Connecticut because this makes her a RHOC star, right?

And with that, we bring you Mrs. Nightengale's first guest post.

The other day I had an epiphany, or two, when I observed the action of a young child. 

This child, a boy, was probably three or four years old. The approximation of his age is based on the fact that he was sitting in a booster seat in the back seat of his parents shiny, new automobile. I could tell in an instant that he had wonderful, caring parents. His proud father was sitting smartly in the driver's seat and slowly maneuvering the parking lot of the local supermarket. His mother,  in front passenger seat, was well dressed, hair perfect and adorned in fine jewelry (most certainly purchased for her by her adoring husband). 

This young man and his brother were sitting in their car seats with belts carefully locked about them to keep them safe. They too, were dressed impeccably with not one hair out of place or a speck of dirt to be found on their face. As a mother of four, this was a clear indication to me of the great deal of attention paid to these boys. I am convinced jealousy is the reason I was able to remember the details of this family with such clarity. 

I thought to myself, "Why is it that when I go to the store with any number of my four children, they are not sitting so still, quiet and well-kempt? Where have I gone wrong?" 

And then all of a sudden, the action happened. An action, especially when performed publicly, offends most and sends even the most relaxed of parents into a frenzy. A habit, a disgusting habit, I am sure most parents have lost their mind over at one time or another. A habit every parent has tried ten million different ways to break. 

Yes, folks, the little boy, adorable, well dressed, perfectly coiffed, took his pointer finger and placed it so far up his right nostril. I was convinced beyond all odds, he would never get it out. 

And it hit me - hit me hard... ALL CHILDREN PICK THEIR NOSE. Nose picking does not discriminate color, creed or socioeconomic status. And I thought to myself, "If those perfect children pick their noses, maybe I'm not such a bad parent after all!" 

* One of Mrs. Nightengale's own little nosepickers *

I left that supermarket parking lot in my messy, battered old mom taxi, with a smile on my face!

Mrs. Nightengale
Scrubbing her kiddos hands like...

Road Trips and Best Friends

As we put our name on the waiting list at Pops, I texted my childhood best friend Bobbi and told her we were “in town” for the evening. I had a package for her sweet momma who was battling cancer. Since my daughters and I had taken a last-minute road trip to Pops in Arcadia, I decided we’d sneak a visit in with Bobbi as well.

Instead of waiting for us to finish our meal and then drive on in, Bobbi decided to join us for a soda. We had just been seated when I saw Bobbi walk across the parking lot. I jumped up and greeted her at the door with a great big hug.

When Bobbi and I were in elementary, we lived just a block from each other and the weekends were for staying at each other’s homes. Often times, we’d go straight home on a Friday night and not see the other’s families until Sunday morning at church. We called each other’s parents “Mom” and “Dad”, and we’d spent hours lamenting the fact that we each had the world’s worst sister. Or so we thought. Our lives had crossed the fine line from friendship to family.

We shared onion rings and stories during our impromptu time together. Bobbi has three boys, and I have two girls; we compared and contrasted raising sons and daughters.

We laughed about the time we took a sign language class after school and decided that, based on that one class, we could drop out of school and start our own school for the deaf. We got as far as making five flyers before we dropped that idea.

We chatted about our hometown – where I still live, about what’s changed and what will never change. We giggled remembering the time that we actually drove my dad out of the camper and into the unpadded bed of his truck during a weekend at Osage Hills State Park.

And, of course, we talked about her momma and the battle that lay before her.

Long after we had finished our onion rings and our bottles of exotic root beer, we continued to sit in our window seat and talk. I’d occasionally glance over at my daughters hoping they’d see the value of a good girlfriend. I hoped that the lesson they’d take from this last-minute reunion was that friends are sweet and understanding and carry you through times of trial with love and laughter.

Eventually, though, because it was late and we still had to drive home, we parted ways. Bobbi walked to the minivan and accepted her momma’s care package. We hugged tight and promised to get together more often. I shut my door and turned to make sure my girls were buckled in.

I looked at their sweet faces and wished for them a lifelong friend like I had in Bobbi.

“Momma?” my first born softly spoke.

“Yes, Baby?” I said, anticipating her request for more stories from my childhood or questions about Bobbi’s momma’s battle or a plea to do it again.

“I was just wondering,” she started, “Did you even know that lady?”

I guess some lessons need to be more blatant.



Mrs. Minivan Momma

for a day!

Heather Davis IS Minivan Momma. In 2001 she vowed to never own a minivan. Then in 2004 she found herself nursing a newborn in the restroom of a minivan dealership. She cried on the way home. Not because she bought a minivan either. Why? Guess you will just have to go find more about Mrs. Minivan Momma here.

To find out how to be a RHOK Star for a day click here! 

What Do You Want? I Don't Know...

I, recently, celebrated a birthday. But, a few weeks before the day arrived, my hubby always starts asking, “What do you want for your birthday?” “Your birthday is only a few weeks away, what do you want?” Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my hubby and he always does well when the day arrives…but, it got me thinking…I get a little annoyed with this question.

I get annoyed, because my mind always draws a blank when this question is asked. I don’t care if it’s my birthday, Christmas, whatever holiday…if you put me on the spot, I can’t think of anything- but, if you ask me AFTER a holiday, I will probably think of 42 things…it never fails. Ask me what to get someone else, ideas are flowing…ask about ideas for myself…and picture “deer in the headlights”. Can’t think of anything.

Am I the only one that has this problem?

I never know what I want. Wait, I take that back….clothes, shoes, handbags, accessories…those are ALWAYS top on my list. But, a lot of times, I can think of things throughout the year UNTIL it comes time for people to start asking me and then I seem to lose every idea I had…

Again, am I the only one who has this problem?

Hang in there…I do have a point to this blog. Mother’s Day is soon approaching and, my guess is, this question will come up. So, I’m asking all the housewives and moms out there…what do YOU want for Mother’s Day? Are there any things/services/products that are on your wish list?

Please share and help me out with my own wish list!
(As well as – I may share on my Mother’s Day Gift Ideas blog on www.stylishstepmom.com too!)

Stay Stylish –

Mrs. Stylish Stepmom