Momma Got Schooled


Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are:

Office ~ great ~ pillows ~ cat ~ hat

They were submitted by:

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.

If you’ve been following my blog at all then you know that we recently decided to homeschool our son.  We’ve only been doing it since feels like forever January and it’s definitely taken some getting used to on both our parts.  I would definitely say it’s been very positive and I’ve seen so much growth in him already.  I just miss my free time.  A little.  Or maybe a lottle.

I wouldn’t trade this time for anything.  We’ve definitely bonded over this experience and I’m proud to be such a positive influence in my son’s daily learning environment.  The confidence he’s exhibited in his abilities and the leaps and bounds he’s growing both emotionally and mentally just can’t be measured, but…

I am never alone.  NEVER.  Like ever.

And we downsized so now there is even less space for me to never be alone in.  Sometimes, if I’m being honest, it’s a little claustrophobic.  I long for the days when I could walk around the house stark naked eating ice-cream and watching soap operas with absolutely no one around to judge me.  Not that any of those things actually happened…that you can prove anyway…but you get my point.  I knew that sacrifices would be made, and apparently spontaneous nudity and ice-cream bingeing are the proverbial lambs in this scenario.  Anyway, this blog isn’t about my nudity (thank goodness!), it’s about using words in a sentence or a collection of sentences that form, in this case, a blog post.  Words I don’t get to choose.  Much like my son’s weekly spelling assignments in which he has to make sentences out of a few of his spelling words.  This has got to be the worst segue ever but I really struggled with how I was going to use these words, and then this week my son had a spelling assignment and suddenly I knew exactly how I was going to use the words I’d been given!

In his “brick and mortar” school (I’m so down with the home-school lingo), my little man HATED writing.  And reading.  And math.  Ok pretty much everything but recess and lunch.  Now, one of his favorite assignments are turning his spelling words into a paragraphical work of art (his words).  He is supposed to write individual sentences for each word choice, but he’s taken liberties with this assignment and turned his spelling words into a mini 1 to 4 sentence story paragraph.  I let him go with it, because he’s never been this creative when it comes to writing.  He loves to read to me what he comes up with and it’s fun to see him excited about writing and spelling.

In this weeks assignment the words were: trustworthy, desert, competition, dessert, qualify and flame.

“The trustworthy kids were in the desert in a competition for dessert but you had to qualify by putting your foot in a flame!”

I mean genius right?!?!

Ok, here’s another!

The words were: handsome, accountant, minimum, adjectives, blindfold and gentleman

“Once on a dark cold winter day, there was a very handsome gentleman named Lazy Larry.  Lazy Larry was an accountant making minimum wage, even though he also studies the art of amazing, awesome adjectives and before he sleeps each night he puts on a blindfold and that is the end of the story of Lazy Larry.”

And my personal favorite!

The words were: muscle, muscular, customary, quest, principal and principle (spelling danger words (homographs) are so fun!)

“Once there was a very muscular man and even his muscles had muscle and his name was Man, which was customary back then.  He lived in a cave.  He was a caveman on a quest to be the best caveman with the principle to never hurt anyone, either large or small.  Unfortunately, Man served a principal named Guy, also customary. Guy was mean, but Man got to leave on this amazing adventure and was never seen again because there was a meteor.  The end.”

I asked for his help on my words and he respectfully declined.  Apparently, he’s done HIS work for the day and he can’t be responsible for MY work and I shouldn’t have procrastinated.  It really sucks when your kids use your own words against you.

So, in the spirit of channeling my inner 5th grade boy, I present to you my most magnificent paragraphical work of USE MY WORDS art!

My words again are:  Office ~ great ~ pillows ~ cat ~ hat

“In the office of the land’s great seat of power sits a cat, on a stack of pillows because he’s a cat and otherwise wouldn’t be able to see over the desk without it, wearing a hat so tall they had to build a special skylight above the desk to accommodate it’s great size which is fitting for the cat’s great responsibility in the office of the land’s great seat of power.”

Clearly, my son comes by his gifts naturally.  So I read my work of genius to him and I got…silence.  Nothing but silence.  Then he says, maybe I should help you.  And pats me gently on the back, shaking his head sadly.

He tells me to sit and he’ll show me how it’s done…

Here is his contribution:

“The amazing office with the great pillows had a grand cat but an odd cat.  This cat was wearing a hat and this cat was called the cat with the hat.”

I mean…  There is a very clear winner here.  Right?

Dr. Seuss either of us are not.  Obviously.

But I still think we both make the grade and the best part of my day is when we get to be silly like this and laugh with each other.  Way better than spontaneous nudity and alone time is overrated.  I’ll cherish these moments forever and ever.  Amen.

(maybe I can join a senior retirement nudist camp in my twilight years…so there’s that)

Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado              

Spatulas on Parade         

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo              

On the Border                 

Bookworm in the Kitchen   

The Bergham Chronicles        

Simply Shannon                 

Southern Belle Charm          

The Angrivated Mom            


Not That Sarah Michelle       

Something To Talk About


Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 14 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is: 

You have 24 hours to spend with an ancestor. What do you talk about?

It was submitted by: It was submitted by:

I’ve been thinking about my Great-Grandmother quite a bit lately.  She passed away over 20 years ago.  I know her in the way a child knows a grandparent.  I wish I had known her as an adult.  I remember sitting on her front porch, shelling pecans or snapping beans, listening to her talk, telling stories.  I’d love another chance to do that again, even just for 24 hours.

I don’t know much about my ancestry, but even if I did, I can’t imagine wanting to spend time with anyone else.  Grandma Dowell left a huge impression on my young mind and heart.  Every morning, I’d wake up on our visits to find her reading her bible.  I can thank her for my love of bacon, the kind fried up in a skillet, steeped in grease and love.  Yum!  I can only really remember her being on the porch or in the kitchen.  She was always working, never stopping, those bent and gnarled arthritic hands constantly in action.  I loved going through her purses, she also kept gum or mints stashed in them.  She had a little apartment attached to her house, my sister and I would spend hours playing in there.  I sat, entranced, in front of her television, watching MTV.  You know, back when MTV played music videos.  Videos like Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” or “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.  Oh!  Another good one, “Hungry Like The Wolf” by Duran Duran.  I know I’m totally dating myself.  Remember “Sledgehammer” by Peter Gabriel?  “When The Doves Cry” by Prince makes me all nostalgic.  I would slip into a music video coma when “Take On Me” by a-ha would come on.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention “Like A Prayer” by Madonna or “Thriller” by Michael Jackson, which was also my first album by the way.  Ah, the memories.  Good times.

She loved me.  I don’t remember her being overly affectionate, verbally or otherwise, but I never doubted that she loved me.  She cooked all my favorite foods.  She spent time with me.  She listened to me.  She spoke to me as if I were an equal, as if my thoughts and feelings mattered, making me feel grown up and treasured.  She had such patience for my litany of questions, cautioning me once that “curiosity killed the cat.” I’d laugh and say but “satisfaction brought it back.” I miss her.  I’ve been thinking about her so much lately, even before I got this prompt.  I’m not sure why.

I wish my kids could have known her.  I wonder what she would think of me now.  All grown up.  Would she be proud?  She kept a box of letters and pictures.  She told me she was keeping them for me because she knew I would be a writer someday, and I’d want them.  I don’t know what happened to that box.  I wish I had it.  She believed in me before I even understand what to believe about myself.  I feel like I’ve let her down.  I let life get in the way.  I let my doubts and insecurities hold me back.  Would she lecture me?  Admonish me?  What words of wisdom would she have for me?  There is so much I want to tell her.  I need her advice, her wise counsel.  She’d probably tell me to get over myself.  She wasn’t shy about giving her opinions.  I loved that about her.

I remember her house dresses.  Someone should bring those back.  I’m a big fan of pajamas that are socially acceptable in public.  I also remember the first time she took her teeth out in front of me.  That was horrifying.  I didn’t know anything about dentures!  I wasn’t allowed to put my elbows on the table, but she could place her teeth on it!  That didn’t seem fair.  She just laughed and laughed.  Her toothless smile wide as she patted me on the head.

I remember sitting crouched in the hallway during a tornado warning.  It was so scary, a tornado literally touched down behind and in front of her house, just missing us.  At least that’s how I remember it.  During the whole ordeal, grandma was in the kitchen making popcorn.  The old-fashioned way, on the stove-top, completely unaffected by the chaos upending everything outside her four walls.  I remember waking up to finding a huge snake in her kitchen.  I don’t remember how she got the snake out or what happened to the snake, but I remember how calm she was in the midst of my hysteria and panic.  That’s the best way to describe her, she was a rock, a stable force in my childhood.

I would ask her to cram all of our shared memories into 24 hours so I could record them and keep them forever.  I’d want to hear more about her life and her marriage.  She was born around 1894, when I think about all the things she witnessed, the history she lived, things I’ve only read about, I’m filled with wonder and curiosity for what life must have really been like for her.  For my birthday every year, she’d send me $1 and a pair of pantyhose.  $1 was a lot of money to her and pantyhose a luxury item.  Things I didn’t appreciate as a child growing up in a generation of X’ers, the world of plenty.  Going to visit her was like going back in time, a slower pace, more thoughtful and deliberate.  Peaceful and serene.  I’m probably waxing poetic about my time spent there in a way that memory allows, I don’t know how reliable are my thoughts and memories, but it makes me feel good, this version I tell myself.  It feels magical and special, a time in my childhood to be cherished.

I’d spend our 24 hours on her front porch, soaking her up like a sponge.  My adult self recognizing how special she was and how luck I was to know her at all, if only a little bit.  She makes up such a small part of my overall history and life to this point, but she made such a huge impact. I’d tell her all these things.  I’d make her fix me bacon again.  I’d share my time with her with my husband and children. I’d love nothing more than to give them a chance to know her, and vice versa.

Everyone should have a Grandma Dowell in their life.  I’m blessed and grateful she was a part of mine. ❤

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado              

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy    

Spatulas on Parade                 

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver

The Lieber Family Blog                 

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo                    

Simply Shannon                            

The Bergham Chronicles                 

Confessions of a part time working mom

Not That Sarah Michelle               

Southern Belle Charm                 

The Angrivated  Mom                    

When I Grow Up                           


Disaster, Thy Name Is Me


Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 12 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is:

Did you ever put your foot in your mouth and then instead of pulling it out, put it in deeper? Were you able to ‘fix’ it or was the situation a complete disaster?

It was submitted by:

I know everyone who actually knows me and just read my secret subject got a very good laugh.  I know I chuckled.  I mean, if putting your foot in your mouth was an Olympic sport, I’d be gold medaling all over the place.  I’m the Simone Biles of awkward foot eating.

Where to even begin.

For those of you who don’t know me well or personally, I’ll start with an introduction of sorts.  I am actually extremely shy and introverted.  My spirit animal is probably a hermit crab.  If I didn’t have to interact, I probably wouldn’t.  I’m better over social media than in person as a general rule.  I always feel awkward.  I suffer from chronic verbal diarrhea.  It’s horrible.  I’m worse around other women and specifically mom’s.  I feel more comfortable with men, but usually am still super awkward or say super inappropriate things.  I really shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, which would be fine by me honestly.

I revert to self-deprecation and humor in hopes of covering up my extreme social awkwardness and foot gorging behavior, but sometimes that really just makes everything worse.  My poor husband…  I feel like he follows me around with a pooper scooper, just shoveling and cleaning up the social disaster that is his wife.  I think if he could muzzle me at times he would, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit.  I mean, I tease and say he finds these qualities of mine, endearing or even lovable, but I’m mostly trying to convince myself.  I’ve always felt I was the counter balance to his more taciturn and serious demeanor.  I’m the Lucy to his Ricky. The Jerry (Seinfeld) to his George.  The Pooh to his Piglet. The Jerry (Lewis) to his Dean.  Okay…maybe not.  But you understand what I’m trying to convey.  Hopefully.

As I mentioned, I feel the most awkward when talking to other women, especially other mother’s.  I don’t know why, probably insecurity.  I feel that if they spend too long talking to me they will see what a fraud I am and how I totally don’t have this motherhood thing down and I’m completely faking it 99% of the time.  I feel as a general rule that everyone is doing the whole parenting thing way better than me, and being complimented on my parenting makes me extremely uncomfortable and I often resort to making embarrassing comments or inappropriate jokes.  I can’t really think of specific examples, I feel as if in parts my entire life is a series of blooper reels on repeat and in slow motion being regurgitated for the entire world to mock.  I know it seems ridiculous, I have great kids, why shouldn’t I get some of the credit, but honestly I really think they are awesome in spite of my parenting skills or lack thereof.

My biggest problem, the way I see it, is that I perpetually feel like a 14 year old girl on the inside.  That mechanism people have that stops them from saying certain things in front of certain people, yeah I think mine is defective or broken.  I say a little prayer or mantra if you will before going anywhere that usually goes something like this:

Please don’t let me say anything stupid today.  Don’t let me forget to make eye contact and smile.  Not a crazy I’m probably going to boil a pet bunny on your stove later kinda smile, just a normal, nice how are you smile.  Don’t bring up sex, poop or private body parts.  Instead of thinking ahead of a witty comeback, actually listen to the person speaking to you, like really listen.  Do: If someone attempts a hug, just hug them back and be grateful they want to love on you. Don’t: If someone attempts a hug, launch into a 5 minute diatribe on how uncomfortable and awkward hugging makes you feel ending in a rather maniacal laugh and claiming you have to run to the loo (I never say loo except in my head because it sounds more sophisticated) because you haven’t pooped in 3 days. Just BE normal.  Be kind.  Be nice.  Again, because it needs repeating, BE NORMAL.  Breathe.  Don’t forget to breathe. You got this girl!

For example, over Thanksgiving, I met my husband at work for the staff luncheon.  He works in a church.  At the beginning, we get in this huge line, and everyone holds hands, to pray before we feast.  I’m not a big fan of touching, unless it’s my husband or kids, so I was pretty proud of the fact that I picked the end of the line and only had to hold my husband’s hand, avoiding any potential awkwardness.  At some point, I realize everyone is looking at me and then pointedly looking over to the left of me.  I’m confused.  I offer up a blank stare, then I look to my left and realize, our line is supposed to be a circle.  The other end of this line that I have to bridge to make the circle is our Senior Pastor, essentially, my husband’s boss.  I thought I only groaned and said “oh no” in my head, but no… I voiced this objection with my out loud speaking voice.  Everyone chuckled,  out of awkwardness I’m sure, and I seriously wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.  It’s not that I didn’t want to hold his hand, I’m just not a fan of hand holding in general.  What if my palms were sweaty, or unusually dry and had I even washed my hands, had he?  I’m pretty sure I licked my finger like 2 seconds ago, will he notice? I picked my ear earlier, I mean personally preferable over a nose pick but still…and not with the same ear picking finger.  I don’t think.  I’m pretty sure it was a different finger.  I think my hands are sweaty now.  Did I really just say no?  Why do I leave the house? WHY? He probably doesn’t even remember this incident, but it’s haunted my mortifying nightmares for weeks.  If I haven’t felt stupid in a day, it’s probably only because I haven’t left the house and talked to anyone.

The other thing I do when I’m nervous or talking to people I don’t know that well, or even people I do know well is that I ramble…or babble incoherently, however you want to phrase it.  This is especially true with someone that I really want to like me or someone I want to impress.  You should hear me in job interviews…oh the horror.  I get nervous and worry about not sounding intelligent or witty so I just open my mouth and holy highway of verbal vomit someone please stop me I can’t help myself make it stop punch me in the face right now please.  I probably need to be medicated.  For reals.  You are now probably thinking, omg she’s NOT medicated?!?!?  Nope.  I’m not.  I’m free-ballin’ this crazy thing called life 😀

I’ve always used humor and sarcasm as a defense mechanism.  It’s hard for me to relax in social situations so I’m pretty much guaranteed to use my foot as an all day sucker.  I have to work really hard to appear more extraverted than I actually am.  It’s just the way I’m wired.  My hope is that people will in general find me endearing and humorous and spend the majority of the time laughing with me and not at me.  I hope they understand my heart is usually in the right place and I never intentionally mean to offend.  It’s much easier for me to share and be open in the social media arena than it is in one on one situations.  I’ll post pics of my weight loss journey all over Facebook and Instagram, but when I see someone who liked or commented on my photo, my inner 14 year old girl is screaming “OMG THEY SAW ME IN A SPORTS BRA AND YOGA PANTS WITH MY BACK FAT HANGING OVER AND MY BOOBS SWINGING LOW AND SLIGHTLY TO THE LEFT!!!!”  RUN!  HIDE!  DO NOT ENGAGE!  WARNING!

I’m not sure I did a great job of answering my secret subject this week, but I’ll wrap up by saying, I’m basically a walking social disaster, but I hope you’ll love me anyway ❤

And pray for my husband.

Especially that.  I’m exhausting.

Have a wonderful and blessed Friday!


Baking In A Tornado          

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

Spatulas on Parade           

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver

The Lieber Family Blog        

Confessions of a part time working mom

Never Ever Give Up Hope       

The Bergham Chronicles        


A Little Piece of Peace           

Southern Belle Charm           

Coming In Hot 2016!

I don’t really believe in resolutions, per se.  I love the feelings invoked by a New Year.  It feels like a clean slate, fresh start or new beginning.  A time to celebrate and reflect.  We reminisce the events of the past year, and use the New Year to hopefully apply what we’ve learned about others and ourselves or the world around us, let go of things holding us back or down, remember loved ones lost and cherish friends and family still among us.  For me there is just something renewing and freeing about ringing in a New Year (or in my case, snoozing in a New Year).  I’m really excited about 2016! I’m 70 pounds lighter, halfway to my goal weight and feeling healthier and happier.

So, while I don’t do resolutions, I do have “intentions” and I intend for this to be my best year yet!

Oh!  One housekeeping note from last weeks blog:  the bra.  I did end up purchasing 2 bra’s from Victoria Secret.  And they fit.  Ish.  I didn’t try them on in the store, and yes I know I probably should have done so.  So I get home and put them on.  Or one of them, not both at the same time obviously.  At first glance, it was awesome!  Then I lifted my arms and WHAT. THE. HECK!?!!?  All I can say is that I’m totally upping my side-boob game.  I kept trying to push them back in, but they just flopped back out over the side of my bra, under my arm.  It was like having 4 boobs, just 2 without nipples.  I don’t know, maybe losing a couple more inches around my chest will help.  I thought I’d be more disappointed, but honestly playing with boob 3 and boob 4 just made me laugh.  Lesson learned.

Anyway, back to my intentions, some most of them are silly but I’m excited to share them with you.  They fall under 4 basic categories:





I could have added a fifth “F” but that’s another blog entirely.  😉  Oh what?  Like you all weren’t thinking it!  Wait, you weren’t?  Oh…awkward.  Moving on.

F is for FASHION

This week we will cover my fashion intentions for 2016. By fashion, I just mean little things like not wearing my pajamas to the grocery store, taking better care of my skin, picking lip and nail color outside of my “neutral” comfort zone.  In general, just taking more pride and care in my appearance.  I was pretty proud of my gel color choice this week, purplicious.


My daughter’s response, “yeah mom, you’re really living life on the edge…”  Rome wasn’t built in a day, love.

I spend a small fortune on skin care products (I love Origin products) that half the time I forget to use.  Since I plan on stepping out more often wearing makeup, I’m going to have to be super vigilant about taking care of my skin.  After the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season, I thought today would be a good day to give myself a facial.  I had one buried underneath my sink that I’d been wanting to try, it’s first words to me were “Hello Gorgeous”.  I  mean, obviously now I have to use it.  It goes on to say:

The secrets to gorgeous glowing skin and a happy positive mood have been long celebrated across the globe through the healing powers of Gold.  Romans looked to Gold to heal skin problems, Egyptians revered the healing powers of Gold in mind, body and soul, and the women of China have used Gold as their secret for glowing skin

What better way to start 2016!  Clearly this is what Anderson Cooper meant when he featured me on CNN.


A magic pot of Gold!!!  The packaging continues to romance me by adding:

The Passport To Beauty Gold Radiance Luxury Facial Mask (not pretentious sounding at all) is uniquely formulated with powerful Colloidal Gold (colloidal?  that sounds…hmm) along with Collagen (I know what this is!) to restore, rejuvenate and promote your skin’s natural beauty.  The mask serum is formulated with Gold essence and an infusion of Rosa Damascena…

blah blah blah, patience is not my virtue, let’s get on with it…

It suggests leaving it on for 20 minutes so it “melts into your skin”.  This sounds alarming.  Then it says it’s left “thoughtful openings for the eyes, nose and mouth.”  THOUGHTFUL openings??!?!?!  Thank you for allowing me not to suffocate in my quest for beauty…  I take it out of the package, my excitement notably diminished, to find this:


OMG.  It’s ironman.  I’ve got real concerns that I’m going to lay this over my face and it’s not going to come off.  I try googling it, but that just scares me more.  Deep breaths.  New year, new me.  I’ve got this.


It’s Ironman meets Hannibal Lecter.  And how big a face did they make this for, none of my “thoughtful openings” are lining up.  Every time I try to breathe in thru my nose, the nose flap gets sucked up into my nostril, making me flail in panic while I try to blow it out without snotting myself. I’m supposed to lay here for 20 minutes, letting this melt into my skin, meditating on happy thoughts.  Are they freaking kidding me?!?

Just when I start relaxing, man-child finds me, and screams in horror.  That’s not very relaxing and I can’t talk very well because the flap part for underneath my nose is actually covering my mouth.  Man-child flees.

I begin to relax again, then husband starts slamming things around downstairs in a snit about something.  It must be difficult to be the World’s Prettiest Person according to Anderson Cooper.



Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, I know exactly why he’s in a snit.  I’ve left the kitchen for him to clean up.  I figured the World’s Prettiest Person needed to come down to earth a wee bit and I did cook after all.  (snicker)

Finally, the 20 hours minutes are over.  It’s completely slid down my face, I can barely open my eyes, and it’s a bit tingly.


That’s not snot under my nose, it’s the mask juices.  At least I think it is.

Man-child enters the bathroom as I peel this stuff off.  The conversation goes something like this:

“Why is that thing on  your face?” – Man-child

“It’s a beauty mask, to make my skin glow” – Me

Man-child looks dubious.

“What?  You don’t think I need a beauty mask, because I’m already pretty?”


I repeat the question, louder, thinking maybe he didn’t hear me even though he’s standing right there looking at me.



He giggles.

He’s going to live with us forever if he doesn’t up his compliment game with the ladies.

Anyway, my face does feel softer, but I’m not really seeing any evidence of a magnificent “glow”.  Maybe I’ll notice a difference tomorrow.  However, I feel it’s a terrific start to my new goals and intentions.

My phone reminder alarm goes off reminding me to take my vitamins.  That’s another area of my life I really need to work on in 2016.  Vitamin deficiency can be an issue with Bariatric patients, and luckily my insurance covered a monthly subscription for a vitamin pack, which includes a multi-vitamin, iron and calcium supplements and a B-12 nasal spray.  An unfortunate side-effect from the sleeve surgery is thinning hair due to lack of nutrient absorption.  I’ve definitely noticed it’s an issue, I’m hoping by being more diligent with my vitamin intake that I can reverse the thinning side-effect.  I hate to think of the alternatives.

I’ll leave you with this awesome little snippet of my bootcamp today.  Enjoy 😛


I can barely formulate a sentence as you can see, and I’ve got something in my teeth, even though I didn’t eat breakfast…awkward.  My daughter was mocking me the whole time “in the bag baby” – “mom who talks like that?” and “bye?”  “Who are you saying bye to mom, all three of your snapchat followers.”  Jealousy is not a good look for her…  Just saying’. ❤


Friday – Secret Subject Swap! My topic is “Should old acquaintance be forgot..?”  I used to participate in this challenge years ago, and I’m excited to be back!

Next Week:  I’ll tackle FOOD!

Versatility is My Middle Name!

A few weeks ago I won The Versatile Blogger Award from two very fabulous bloggers.  I hope they didn’t think I forgot about them, or that I didn’t appreciate the honor they took the time to bestow upon me.  I’ll reveal the names of my esteemed bloggy friends a bit later.  First, I wanted to get a handle on what it meant to be coined as “versatile”.

Perhaps, I got this award after my award-winning performance in the unauthorized release of the “sexy time” video starring my husband and me.  Sure, it was a tad awkward when our little home movie was played in front of our son’s first grade class.  As soon as I’m allowed within a 2 mile radius, I will apologize.  In the meantime, I might need some homeschooling advice.  For those mom’s who wrote me the hate mail, my son is fine.  We get a therapy “the 4th child is free” discount.  Besides, we used black and white film and everyone knows that makes it artsy, not pornographic.  It’s not like I paid someone to release it (people do it for free…can you believe it?)  I think I showed tremendous versatility and grace in dealing with the whole messy situation.

When Perez Hilton compared my video to a National Geographic special on the mating habits of the Wildebeest….did I get upset?  No.  Jealous people say mean things.  It comes with the fame.  One must be versatile when dealing with haters.  One must adapt to living in the unforgiving glare of the spotlight.

That one mom who blogged the nasty article about me, totally overreacted when her toddler accidentally got the “money shot” while I was getting out of my car.  I mean, I think we can all agree that underwear is soooooooo restrictive.  And we all know if my name were “Britney Spears,” she would have whipped out that camera phone and sold the pics to US Weekly to pay for little Bobby’s private school education!  So please spare me the hypocritical outrage.  In other news, did you know baby beavers were so cute?

I have to keep this blog G or PG rated for my blogging challenge.  What could be more G-rated than posting cute pics of baby animals!  I’m versatile enough to talk about anything, even beavers.

Versatility is the ability to do many things competently.

  1. I can poop and read.  What?  Where else do I get alone time to catch up on blogs? Even then, peace and quiet isn’t always guaranteed. My husband waits till I sit on my porcelain throne before putting the laundry away and then makes retching and gagging sounds the whole time.  Sometimes I get poop fright, and if I know someone is listening, I freeze up.  On second thought, maybe not so versatile.
  2. Nothing screams versatility like plucking random upper lip hair while brushing my teeth.  Am I wrong?
  3. I can read tweets while giving the appearance that I’m listening to my husband’s boring work stories.  Although, I probably need to work on that particular skill because even though my husband has worked for the same company for over 20 years, I still couldn’t really tell you what he does exactly.
  4. I can smile at you sweetly while mentally plotting all manner of horrible things.  That looks way worse written down than it sounded in my head.
  5. I can listen to my iPod and nap at the same time.  I might have narcolepsy (that is the falling asleep thing, not the sexy time with dead people thing right because that would be really gross and not at all what I mean).  Or maybe I have a tapeworm.  Do tapeworms make you sleepy?  I need to google that later when I’m not so tired.

I think I’ve clearly proven my mastery in the Art of Versatility.  It is with great honor that I accept the two Versatile Blogger awards I received from Making Things Happen and Earth2Body Sisters (who also posts under My Life As Lucy).  These ladies are awesome and you totally need to go check them out.  Unless you hate happiness, laughter, smoothies, drinking skeletons. headless chickens, conversation vomit (an affliction I suffer from acutely), cool crafts and nifty recipes.  Would I lie to you?  Previous content notwithstanding….

Okay, so one of the rules to this award is to list 7 random facts about yourself.

  1. I absolutely cannot wear socks on carpet.  It grosses me out.
  2. I hide all my paperwork in a filing cabinet, so my office looks clean and organized.
  3. I can’t poop in public places.  I will hold it until I get home, and then it’s a mad rush to the bathroom, and heaven help anyone who stands in my way!
  4. I’m really shy but hide it by being obnoxious and sarcastic
  5. I can cry on command.  It’s my party trick.
  6. I can say my ABC’s backwards, drunk or sober.
  7. I added African Safari to my bucket list.

I’m supposed to now nominate 15 bloggers that I adore and admire.  It’s late and I’m tired.  I’m not sure if I’m actually writing this or dreaming that I am writing it.  Instead, I am going to troll some blog hops and try to find 15 new bloggers to follow!  I promise to share my findings.  If you are really bored, you can read my other award nominations:

Nick Nolte or Gary Busey…Wait What’s the Question?

Why You’re Just A Freakin’ Ball Of Sunshine!

Sisterhoods and Sex Tapes

***WARNING:  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.***

I Am _________, Who Are You?

I missed posting yesterday.  I think I will be forgiven because I was busy attending marching band contests for my kids from 6:30am to 11:00pm.  The rules to my challenge state that I can post twice in one day if I miss a day, so no big deal.  Wait!  What?  OMG, two posts in one day.  I’ll have to save it for something really good.  I mean it’s October, the month of Halloween and Homecoming, and I have crazy kids.  Surely something twice-blog worthy will happen.  Right?  Right.  Okay then.  Moving on.  I was sitting on the toilet… (seriously, how many great stories have started with that sentence!) and I looked up and saw my nutcrackers. I love my Halloween nutcrackers.  How can you not love anything called a “nutcracker”?

And as I was gazing adoringly on these nutcrackers, I realized they kinda represented how I feel about myself today.  Like a cross between a blood-sucking vampire killer and Skeletor, the Grim Reaper.  Obviously, I am very self-deprecating.  I’m quick to put myself down, or take one for the humor team.  It’s mostly a defense mechanism.  I mean if I make fun of myself then no one else will beat me to it, right?  It’s also true that I have the ability to laugh at myself and the stupid crap I do or say.  I’ll break out the self-deprecation when I’m feeling nervous or uncomfortable.  And there is probably a part of me that uses humor to keep people at an emotional distance.  I love this line from the new movie, “Pitch Perfect” –

Aubrey:  “What’s your name?”

Fat Amy:  “Fat Amy”

Aubrey:  “You call yourself Fat Amy?”

Aubrey:  “Yes, so twig b*tches like you don’t do it behind my back.”

This week the truly awesome and inspirational blogger You Know It Happens At Your House Too posted a blog called I am ______, Who are you?  The idea is to set a timer for 5 minutes.  Break out any apparatus you have handy: paper, iPhone or computer and write indiscriminately using the above prompt, I am _____.  Do not edit, change or even proofread it.  Save it when you are done.  These 5 minutes belong to you.  It’s 5 minutes of your life when you get to celebrate being you.  You don’t have to share this list with anyone, but keep it and when you are feeling blue or down on yourself, break it out as a reminder of how awesome and special you truly are!  If I can do this, Queen of Self-Deprecation and Ruler of DownOnMyself Land, then anyone can do it.  I need this crash course in what I like about myself, and maybe so do you.  So do it!  Then feel free keep it to yourself, share it with me, share it with my inspiration behind this idea, YKIHAYHT.

Ok, here goes!

I am funny.  Not always on purpose, but sometimes some really humorous stuff comes flying out of mouth or in my writing!

I am a good mother.  I love my 4 children with all of my heart, and I know that even when I screw up, they believe with all of their hearts that they are loved and adored by me.

I am a Googler Extraordinaire.  Seriously, I can find anything on Google.  ANYTHING.  It’s my superpower.

I am strong.  Life has taught me recently that I can overcome anything.  I am strong.  Because it bears repeating.

I am smart.  Whatever I don’t know, I can google.  🙂

I am a good daughter.  This one is hard to write, because I’ve been made to feel it isn’t true, but writing it down makes me sit up a little straighter because it’s true.  I’m not perfect, and I’ve made mistakes, and I dwell in the land of insecurity and doubt about my ability to be loved, but as I sit here I choose to believe that I am worth it.  I’m worth loving, despite being flawed and imperfect.  I deserve better.

I am a good wife.  I support my husband, and I would do anything for him.

I am silly.  I love to laugh.

I am fierce.  Most times I am a lover not a fighter, but hurt someone I love and it’s on like Donkey Kong!

Oops, I ran out of time.  That was both harder and easier than I thought it would be.  I feel embarrassed to share it, but I will.

Make your own list.  Male or female.  We all deserve at least 5 minutes to ourselves.  Celebrate being you.  I just did, and it feels great!

When you finish, check out Craughing and The Self Worth Action Project.  It’s amazing!

Kick the Bucket List

I’ve not been feeling particularly inspired to write this weekend, until I received the September 30th “Blog Dare” writing prompt tweet from Bloggy Moms.  I wouldn’t really say I was inspired, it was more of a twinge really, but I’m going to run with it.  The prompt instructed me to add an item to my bucket list.  Since, I don’t really have a bucket list per se, I decided to make one!  I remember standing at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland (the pic shown above) and wanting to pinch myself because OMG, I was in Ireland!  I remember standing there looking out over the water, struck by the sheer beauty of my surroundings, thinking that anything should be possible.  I was in freaking Ireland!  IRELAND!  Certainly, a bucket list item.  Of course, it was freezing, and raining on and off, and it was a long, steep walk and I could barely breathe, and I didn’t have gloves or a good raincoat, and I never thought I would ever be warm again, and I seriously considered throwing myself off the cliffs versus having to walk all the way back down, but I was in Ireland people!

Thinking back on this day, I thought about other items I would place on my bucket list.  You know, the things I would like to do before I, well….kick the bucket.  I’ll start with 5 items, and build from there!


  1. Trace one of Adam Levine’s tattoo’s…with my tongue.  Too much?  I’d let him pick the tattoo.  Still, no?  Okay fine.  How about a hug?  A full body contact hug, not one of those arm around the shoulder friend hugs.  And it has to last at least 30 seconds.  Wait, why am I negotiating?  This is MY bucket list.  Adam Levine is getting naked.  Or at least topless.  What do those Supermodels have that I don’t?  I probably have that backwards.  What do I have that those Supermodels don’t have?  4 kids.  A husband.  Excess poundage.  I don’t think the items on your bucket list are supposed to depress you are they?  Back to Adam Levine…naked (if you are concerned about my husband, ask him who he has placed on his “get out of jail free” card/bucket list).  

2. Bring on the boobs.  New ones.  This bucket list item assumes I’m down to my goal weight.  These boobs have had children.  These boobs have gone through many weight transitions, many times.  These boobs need a makeover.  Heck, these boobs need an intervention.  These boobs are the Courtney Love of body parts.  A strung out, droopy  out of control hot mess.  So yeah, I’m putting boobs on my bucket list.

3. Run a Marathon.  Eat my way through Italy.  My husband and I both want this trip to Italy.  Hopefully, I’ll be thin and sporting new boobs before this trip happens, so I can get fat again.  Seriously, if I don’t leave Italy 20 lbs heavier, then I didn’t do it right.  Of course, then I’ll have to lose the  20 lbs and my new boobs might suffer a bit, so a new lift might be necessary.  I’m not sure I’ll make it through the first surgery.  The thought of those drainage tubes almost does me in.  Have I mentioned I have a low pain tolerance (as in non-existent?).  So, maybe gaining 20 lbs and ruining my new boobs should be reconsidered.  The problem is that the first place I gain and lose weight is my boobs.  God forbid, it be my stomach.  Oh, now I’m really sorry I brought up my stomach.  Let the downward shame spiral begin….I need a brownie.  Or a cookie.  Or a Hershey chocolate bar with almonds.  Yummmmm.  FOCUS.  ITALY.  Bucket List.  Okay, I’m back.  So, yeah, the hubs and I want to go to Italy someday.

4.  Be a triathlete.  Write a book.  I feel like I have a book in me.  Someday, very soon, I hope I get the nerve to go for it.  There are so many fantastic people who were considered “late bloomers” in their successes.  Julia Child decided to learn how to cook after 40, and didn’t publish “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” until she was almost 50!  Laura Ingalls Wilder was in her 40’s before she decided to become a writer.  I loved her books as a child.  Joseph Conrad, Richard Adams, Kenneth Grahame, Marquis de Sade and Mary Wesley didn’t begin their writing careers until ages 35 or older, some even in their 50’s!  I’ve always wanted to be a writer.  I remember my great-grandmother telling me as a young girl that she thought I’d be a great writer someday.  She also gave me my love for bacon, which I can proudly say I’ve mastered.  Of course, I’m afraid of failing.  Who isn’t?  I’m debilitated by the thought of rejection.  I don’t know that I have the discipline to accomplish this goal, but I know that I don’t want to look back on my life and know that I didn’t even try.

5.  Become an Ironman.   Run a marathon.  Stop laughing.  I’m serious.  Really?  Yes, really!  My original goal was to complete a marathon before I turned 40.  I think we all know how that turned out.  I’ve decided not to put a specific date on this item, just before death…obviously.  I hate running.  I hate exercise.  So, why would I put running a marathon on my list.  Considering licking Adam Levine is number 1, I think it’s safe to say I’m delusional at best.  On the other hand, if Adam Levine was waiting at the finish line…

So there it is.  The beginning of my Bucket List.  Yay me.  I’m exhausted.  Number 6 is gonna be a nap.  No, seriously, I went to the gym today.

What (or who) would be on your bucket list?

Tomorrow I begin this blog challenge where I blog every day for 31 days.  Talk about exhausted!  Ya’ll will be sick of me by November 1st, if I don’t bore you to death.

Nap time….

Sweet dreams….