You're Not Supposed to Laugh.

Kids grow up way too fast these days.

For instance, MG is eight and in third grade. She is also very pretty and very smart, but that’s not the point here.

The story is: The other night, I was helping her get ready for bed and she asked if I was going to exercise. I told her that I was going to do the “big black thing” (the elliptical machine), and that I would do my balance ball in the morning. (I have discovered the Balanceball is quite awesome for your abs. But I digress.) She started giggling.

My instant thought was “crap.” I kept talking, and pretty soon she said “there’s another kind of balls.” (Yes, my initial “crap” was warranted.) I asked her what she meant (just in case), and she said boys have them. (Now I’m trying not to freak out externally – just with my inner-monologue.) I asked where she heard that, and she just shrugged and said some boys at school said it. And then she ran off to play.

So, now I’m a little sad. I know I can’t protect them from life, and that they’re going to hear all about it long before I’m ready. (For you thinking that I laugh too, I’m 30 with two kids. I probably have figured it out by this point.) So, now my eight-year-old little girl giggles at all the wrong times.

So, yes, kids grow up way to fast.

A Piece of My Heart

Let’s face it. Divorce Sucks.

No matter how ready you are when the end is finally near, it is still a very sad, heartbreaking thing.

I know. Why is my usually hilarious column SO serious today? Because it’s my blog and I can do what I want with it. I’ve been single for a little over three years now. Not one single date. But, that’s ok. I’ve been able to figure out who I am, and grow stronger in the Lord. I have struggled, and seen others struggle, through this, feeling isolated.

Divorce is a bad word in the ‘Christian’ community. It has a stigma about it. Granted, the church has come a long way. Now, there are small groups and support groups at most of the churches around. But, no matter how far it’s come, it’s still something that “we just don’t talk about.” I can totally understand why. The Bible very clearly states that God hates divorce. I mean, the last thing He created was a couple. So, how can people ever really be OK with what God hates? I’ve struggled with this myself.

I was married for seven years. I was afraid God wouldn’t love me anymore, that my family would be disappointed in me, that I would be alone forever. Really, who wants to marry a divorced chick with two little kids? I stayed, miserable, knowing my kids weren’t seeing what a “real” marriage should be. I did not want to disappoint God. I even moved halfway across the country, away from everyone and everything, to give it another chance. I was isolated, alone, and realizing more everyday that I would rather be a single mom for the rest of my life, living with my parents and struggling to raise an ADHD child on my own then continue the way it was.

Here’s a confession, and what I remember when I start to judge myself. (And for all of you judgers out there…) After a huge fight one time, after slammed doors, name-calling, tears and broken glass, I – for just a fraction of a second – thought that I could take that piece of glass and….

I had to leave.

The day I packed up the one-way van rental, buckled the kids in and drove away was the saddest and most difficult thing I had ever done. My marriage was over – it was a LONG, slow collapse. I was ready for it, so glad to finally be released. But, I was still ending what was supposed to be a ‘til death’ thing, taking my children away from their father, starting over AGAIN. I almost started crying. But I couldn’t. I had to be strong for my babies. I had to show them that, even though it was sad, we could get through it.

I think that we did stay until death. The death of a soul, of happiness, of love. As much as God hates divorce, I think He hates seeing His children suffer more.

I don’t regret it. My children are happier, I am calmer, my walk with God is so much better. God still loves me. My family still loves me. One day, I’ll meet my Prince Charming, even if I have to wait until Heaven.

So, let’s embrace this stigmatized group of people. Love them unconditionally like the Lord says, and realize that they didn’t just ‘sin’ – they chose life.

Noodle-rific

From the archives…

Back in my other life, when I was still married, MB was just a little guy – right around one-year-old. We were doing a ‘stint’ in the Florida panhandle, and my little guy had just recently started eating “real” food.

We had spaghetti one night, and per usual I cut the kids noodles into little pieces. (Pizza cutters are a wonderful thing to have with small children!!) We were taking turns feeding him little bites and supervising MG’s food vacuuming. MB was happily eating his bites, coughing a little and sneezing all the while.

After several minutes of coughing, eating and sneezing, I noticed a little noodle above his mouth, sticking a little in his nose. I went to take it off of his face and…



…pulled a two-inch noodle out of his nose.

The entire time he was eating, he was coughing and sneezing because he had a noodle stuck in his nose.And then he sneezed it out! I don’t think I have laughed so hard in my life. I, of course, immediately called my mom and could barely get the story out between the tears.

Moral? When your baby is sneezing during spaghetti time, he could have a noodle come out of his nose.

Oh, the Horror!

I did not know that head-wounds bled that bad.

I mean, I knew that they bled worse than any other part of the body because of the thin skin, but not THAT bad.

Saturday night after church, my friend B came over to watch Burn Notice. (GREAT show!) I was making us nachos, and the kids were (supposedly) getting ready for bed. Down come MB saying that MG had cut her [hand] and that it was bleeding and she was crying. So, I moseyed up the stairs (my children are complete drama over the tiniest boo-boo) thinking it was a scratch, bandaid, done. I round the corner, and MG is sitting on the potty holding her head. So I asked if she bumped her head, she said yes and told me the story. (Bending down, MB turned off the light, she came up and hit the counter.) I walk over and, staying as calm as I could, saw enormous amounts of bleeding. Like someone had turned a faucet on. Running down her back, into and on the toilet, floor, shower curtain. EVERYWHERE.

I grab a rag and get it wet and squash it on her head, and tell MB that mommy needs help and to go get Geemaw. Well, Geemaw doesn’t think it’s bad at this point, so takes her sweet time (love you, momJ). I start calling her, and she comes up and looks behind MB and tries also to stay calm. We don’t let MG turn around because of the massive red all over the place. Geemaw helps take MG’s shirt off and wipes her back off as I continue to squash her head and try to keep her calm. Geemaw gets Bapa’s nick-stuff (little tube that instantly stops shaving nicks from bleeding – I should get some), and we get her pj’s on. Some liquid Tylenol and off to bed. When I finally found the cut the next morning, it was the tiniest little thing.

I now need a new toilet seat. We have a padded one that had ripped, and the foam got soaked. Moral? Don’t let your kids cut their heads while sitting on a ripped foam toilet seat. And be warned that they bleed – A LOT.

Better Than Sliced Bread

I’m addicted to my DVR.

I think most people are. I mean, really, it is the greatest invention EVER. Extra-specially the ones the record two show at once. Gone are the days of trying to decide which show you want to watch, or trying to flip back and forth between two shows. Which never works, because I believe there is a commercial conspiracy. (Have you noticed that commercials are always on at the same time on different channels? Conspiracy.)

I have at least 30 shows in my list. You’ve got the summer shows (thank goodness for Psych – summer would be horrid without it!), the normal season shows (raise your hand if you love Chuck!), “winter season” (LOST!!!!!!!!), and random time reality shows (Top Chef, anyone?).

It’s great – I let them pile up, and then when summer starts I have a couple of weeks left. It also comes in handy when I’m stuck at home with an illness.

Whoever invented DVR should be honored with some sort of award for geniusness.

Now, if I could only find someone to watch my DVR with me…. (counting on you, dear friend!)

"I can't help it - it's so beautiful!"

I have to admit it.

It’s not a secret. My family knows. They laugh at me sometimes.

I reference the quote from A Bug’s Life. I really can’t help it. I’m surprised anyone can. Even after a couple terrible heartbreaks, I still can’t help it.

WHAT? (I know you’re screaming it.)

Here goes. My confession.

I love Marines.

(My mom and aunt are probably now in hysterics!!)

Honestly, have you ever seen one up close in their dress blues? It’s a-maze-ing. To me, they are the ultimate military. (Yes, I was in the Navy – what’s your point? They are technically a division of the Navy, so I’m not straying.)

The hardest boot camp, always on the front lines. A good Marine is tough when needed, but can bring it down and love his family at the end of the “day”. (Even when a “day” lasts months.)

My best friend was a Marine, and now she is a Marine wife. I think that, aside from actually being one, she has one of the most difficult jobs. For most of the time the Marine’s have been in existence, family has been the last in a list of priorities. Only in the last several years has that changed, and now they are making an effort to support the family more. (One of the reasons for my fabulous non-profit organization.)

So, there you have it. Ex-boyfriends (you know who you are) and ex-husband, heartbreak, hardships – I still love them. I admit it.

Confession over.

P.S. – My dear friend, if you’re reading this – you know my criteria! :)

Not Suprising AT ALL

At dinner the other night, I had to laugh.


My little sister (MLS) (who is now 18, graduated, and obviously not so little) made some French toast for dinner. MB, MG, and I sat down with her to eat. Random talk went on, and soon my mom’s diet of the day came up. The parental units had gone to dinner elsewhere, and we hoped my poor mom would eat something since it seems she had a whole 2 graham crackers the ENTIRE DAY. (Mom, seriously? EAT.)


Guess what came up? Not sure? Check out this post and then come back.


Dinner went on, and then I just burst out laughing. I told MLS why, and she, too, laughed. It totally proves my point that no matter who or when, a meal at a table with our family is… interesting.

"Go to sleep to dream"

I love bed time. The kids are sleeping peacefully and QUIETly. My hair is clean, pj’s on, comfy pillow. I love bed time.

I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s a fabulous time. You get to sleep! Don’t you love it when you lay down, get your covers on, and lay down. Then, drift off into…

Nothing.

Last night, I covered and kissed my babies, got my pj’s on, climbed 5 feet into my bed (it’s loft bed – I avoid getting up except for dire emergencies), got comfy, and laid there. For at least two hours. Laid there wishing I was sleeping. The best part is when you finally start drifting off and then your arm starts aching bad enough that you have to move, which just wakes you up and starts the whole process over.

Of course I would pick this morning to start getting up early to work on the abs. (Mexico is coming!) I hope that my tiredness means it won’t be two hours before going to dreamland.

Sweet dreams!

Estrogen Poisoning

My boy (MB) is so cute. He’s 4 ½, towhead, active. My lovey baby. He likes to give hugs and let me hold him.

MB is also amazingly… WHINY.

Oh, my goodness. He wakes up and immediately something is wrong. MG (my girl) is doing something that bothers him. He doesn’t want his hair fixed. He doesn’t want to get dressed. Brush his teeth, go to school, go to church, go to bed, eat what I’m making. ALL the time.

Look out the window! It’s the end of the world!!

(That also brings some whining.)

I’m not sure what to do. He doesn’t get away with it. He gets his little mouth popped, butt kicked, time out, put to bed – to no avail! Maybe I’m get the Ferocious Four’s instead of the Terrible Two’s. I think that if he doesn’t snap out of it soon, I might end up in a loony-bin.

I love MB very much. What I don’t love is his whining.

Like Angels Singing

What could be more pleasant in life than the sweet, sweet sound of…

…screaming, crying, whining and fighting.

My girl (MG from now on) is four years older than my boy (MB). She thinks that gives her the daily torture of him. MB is quite cute, but, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. Whines and whines and cries. I keep telling him to hit her back (I know – wrong, but come on!), act like a guy, ignore her, and so on. All too no avail.

What is one to do? MG really is sweet, but she gets around her brother and… I keep telling her to be nice because one day MB will grow a spine and be stronger than her! I try to remind her of the time we were all in the backyard, and MG kept taking the ball away from him. Oh, he was mad (and whining and crying). We kept telling him to take it back. Well, all of a sudden he tore after her and just started pounding on her! He didn’t hurt her because he was so much smaller, but it was hilarious! I thought that he FINALLY got it! Alas, no.

I hope that MB gets it together soon. And MG realizes he’ll beat her up one day.
Right now, I am enjoying the sounds of them playing together and having fun. I will lock it away in my memory to go back to in 4 minutes when the screaming starts again.

Swirly Simba

I am perplexed. I have been perplexed for some time now. Years, in fact. What am I perplexed about?

My children’s hair.

Really. I don’t understand it. Up until a few days ago, my son’s hair had not been cut in months. (He screams like we are torturing him, so I don’t do it very often.) It was about 4+ inches long and blond. In the wind the other day, it looked like a lion’s mane blowing around.

What I am perplexed about is not the lion-like qualities of my sons head when his hair is long, but of what I call “the swirl.” My beautiful children have a swirly on their heads. At the crown, the part suddenly takes a turn and curves up. My boy’s is almost a perfect little circle, and my girl’s looks like a ‘J’. No matter a smooth and combed it is the night before, she looks like a hamster played in one section (the same section every night), and he looks like he stuck his finger in a socket.

I will comb, use the hair-straightener, gel it, spray it – NOTHING works. I can get the wrinkles out of her hair, but it still frizzes, and his hair still sticks up. Even with a “big-boy” cut, that little spot on his head sticks up.

Soon, my little girl will start doing her own hair. My son might not want his head shaved forever. I hope that the mystery will be solved by then, because teenagers with hair issues? Not a good combo.

Wild Boar Anus

Gross confession. My family has a strange fascination with fecal matter. I don’t know why. I think it’s passed down, getting worse at each new generation. Family dinners always, without fail, end up with a conversation about it. Aunts and uncles, cousins, kids to grandparents – no matter how hard you try to resist, you are pulled in.
We occasionally watch Anthony Bordain’s show on the Travel Channel. He visits different countries and eats what they eat. Some of the food is not so bad, but most of the time there is some creepy looking stuff going into his mouth. Several months ago, my mom recounted the show she had just watched. (She told the story at dinner, of course.) Anthony Bordain was in Africa or somewhere in the bush country, and eating with the natives. They had a really old giant egg, “cooked” in a pit of warm dirt. Ew. But what stood out was the Wild Boar Anus. Really. They killed a wild boar and ate EVERY LAST INCH of it. His commentary is so very funny, so when he started talking about them “cooking that Hershey mile al dente” – too funny. I was lucky enough to catch that very episode later. So, now this story comes up at most meals, and if you ask how they like the food, it’s “definitely better than Wild Boar Anus.” I’m not sure if that is a compliment. Of course, this is a favorite.
You’re probably wondering WHY in the world I would share this story with the world. It is for this reason – unless you have a very strong constitution, do not accept a meal invitation from any of our family. Enjoy your dinner tonight!

Exploding Mothers

I love my mom. She is a pretty awesome woman. Very sweet and, for the most part, calm in the storm. My nickname for her used to be “Mary Poppins.” When I was little, it was because I thought my mom was perfect. When I was a teenager it was because she was super anal about everything being clean. (By the time my sister came along, I think she realized the hopelessness of a clean teenagers room.) Now it’s because she’s pretty. :)
My mom gets frustrated, but not often, and she usually hides it until she is alone. (Which came in handy when she worked at our church (love you guys!), but that is about 28 stories for another day.) So, when she does get frustrated and shows it, it can have a comical effect.
We Skype. I like Skype – pretty handy little tool. Some of the time is just random conversation, but at least 87% of the time it is because she is having some sort of computer issue. My mom isn’t the most technologically savvy person, so I was really quite proud of her when she (let me) set up a Facebook account. She has enjoyed catching up with old friends and, MOST importantly, posting millions of pictures of her FABULOUS grandkids.
Yesterday, my Skype pops up and she is having issues with the posting process. She informs me that she is almost ready to cuss. To which I responded cussing is bad, and to use ‘by-words’ instead. Ha. Pretty soon, my Skype is popping up with ‘crapola’, ‘piece of poop’, ‘garbage’ and ‘evil’. I assure her – several times since she is to busy not cussing to pay attention – that I will look at it when I’m home. Then, a new phrase which I will keep and use on random occasions - ‘Piece of putrefied maggots’. The point of this story? To give you a new phrase to use when you are frustrated at your computer. You’re welcome!

Rich and Famous

Yesterday I did two things I've never done before. I started this riveting blog (I know you are on the edge of your seat). Exciting, I know! I was also interviewed for a newspaper article. Okay, it wasn't really about me, but it was about my fabulous non-profit organization. I have met a lot of people through work, and was able to approach the staff writer of the local paper about getting some press for TfT. So, while I might not be famous myself, I hope that this is just the beginning for my venture! (For my Carrollton friends, check out tomorrows paper. For my Flower Mound friends, either tomorrow or Saturday.)
I also did something not so new - taxes. As a single mom, I still love tax time. I look forward to it every year. It's a time to pay off credit cards and go to Mexico, and still have some left over! I was pretty excited when I finished my free H&R Block E-File - 8-15 days and, while not rich, I'll have this years cushion. (Mostly for daycare, but that is a story for another day.)
So, now you can tell everyone that you know a rich and famous person. That's pretty riveting, don't you think?

My Intro to Blogging

Today is Monday. I thought I'd start the week by doing something new.
My life isn't too different from the other billions of people in America. Each day is filled with stuff. Work, laundry, food, Tivo. Somedays it's fine, and other days I wonder why? So, I begin daily (maybe) musings on this thing that is something like life.

My wonder for today is why there is a 4.5 day weekend coming up. Anyone? Really - they've been in school for less than two weeks! Why could they possibly need a long weekend? Working parents - we need to unite against these so-called "holidays" that only help raise the daycare bill!! Does anyone else feel this way?