Reflection

So, I went for it, that opportunity in my last post.  I didn't think it was likely to work out.  I wasn't really sure I wanted it to, but I went for it.  I did it mostly to break free of the fear, but also just for the experience.

As it turns out, I didn't have enough of it -- experience, that is.  But it's funny how taking an opportunity to examine your life and what you want to do with it can help you clarify just what it is that you do want to do, or what you want to try.   I'm not making any major changes, but I'm stepping up my game just a little.  I'm tired of coasting. 

I don't know.  Maybe it's my birthday that is quickly -- so quickly -- approaching.  It's a milestone year, 40 is.  I don't have any real anxiety about turning 40.  In fact, I feel energized in some ways.  Maybe part of it is that life feels like it's going by so quickly.  Wasn't it just Monday night?  And here it is Monday night again?  I want to take advantage of as many opportunities as I can.  Be the best I can be.  Does that sound hokey?  Maybe it's true that we get more sentimental, cheesier as we get older.  Or maybe it's just an appreciation.

My husband threw a surprise party for me Saturday night.  I was completely taken by surprise and it was so much fun hanging out with people from so many different parts of my life.  I looked at my life and realized that you know what?  I've got it pretty good.  It's a good life.  It's going to be a good year.

Reflections on 39

So, I turned 39 a couple of weeks ago. Really, it was no big deal. I don't FEEL 39, whatever that means. I feel like I look pretty good for my age. I'm probably in the best shape of my life (cardio-wise anyway) due to my awesome KG Ladies Running Club (that's the cheesy name we gave ourselves) and the 3.5 miles we run 2-3 times a week.

I wasn't freaking out about turning nearly 40, is what I'm saying.

But then. Then I started getting what I would call "wild hairs." And no, I'm not talking about chin whiskers or anything like that. I'm talking about crazy ideas.

Like getting my nose pierced.

Or having hot pink hair.

See, I've always wanted to do those things and now I feel like it's too late. For one, I can't really have either at my job. I could probably swing the nose stud, but should I? Really?

For Halloween this year I did a modified Goth girl costume. I spiked my hair and put fake studs in my lip and nose and ears. Several people who saw me said "Wow, you really pull that off. I bet you've got a little bit of rocker girl down inside." And you know what, I DO!

There are so many things I wish I'd done when I was younger that now I feel like I'm too old for. Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying I'm OLD, just too old for these particular things.

I feel like I want to do SOMETHING to prove that I'm still young, still wild at heart if not so much in action. I just don't know what that SOMETHING is.

Serenity NOW!

They say that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I should be as strong as freakin' Hercules after all this.

The sun'll come out tomorrow and all that jazz. Tomorrow is another day.

What I'm saying is that I feel better today. I think I need to take this opportunity to say that I sometimes use this blog as an emotion dump. I think everybody in my real life is sick of hearing me worry about this stuff (not that you guys AREN'T! heh.) and this is a convenient place to just dump everything I'm thinking and feeling.

After my last "woe is me" post, Mr. Daddy asked me "Why do you put all that stuff out there for everybody to read?"

"It makes me feel better for one," I said. "Also, I got at least two "YES, me too!" comments. So it helps me feel like I'm not alone in this and maybe by posting that I'm helping somebody ELSE feel like they're not alone either."

"Oh. Yeah. I can see that," he said.

And that right there, in a nutshell, is why I still blog, even if only occasionally.

Somebody Hand Me a Tissue

I've not been shy here about mentioning some of my "mental health issues." If you're new here, go read here and, to some degree, here.

Well, for those of you playing along at home, I'm off my Lexapro again. I weaned myself this time and have had a much better result. MUCH better. You know what's best about it, though? The tears. The crying. Oh, how I've missed crying. And the sad thing was that I didn't even realize that I was missing it, which is odd since I'm a life-long crier. I'm talking about the sentimental tears. You know the ones -- that ones that come when the Mom in the Publix commercial realizes that the cake the little boy made is for her, not some imagined sweetheart. Or the ones that spring to your eyes when your child gives you a spontaneous declaration of love accompanied by a huge hug.

Of course, my most notorious sentimental cry was over the Mercedes commercial. This one, to be exact. Come ON! How can you NOT cry at that? Its life is flashing before its eyes!

I didn't even realize these tears were missing until I was driving along the other day, singing along to the radio with my kids. All of sudden, my voice and Bubba's rose above the radio in perfect harmony. I was filled with such a swell of love at that moment and all of a sudden my eyes welled.

Wait. what's this? This...wetness...in my eyes?!

Since then it's been like unleashing a dam. Everything sets me off. Oh tears! How I missed you. I'm sooo glad you're back. And just in time, too, for Christmas, when the sight of the kids with Santa, every Christmas carol, the Christmas Eve service at church are sure to bring on the waterworks.

I'll be looking at the Christmas tree this year with tears in my eyes. And boy am I glad.

It's A Contest!

So, I can spill the beans. It's not news to most of you anyway. Well, the ones of you that left a comment at least. I'm terrible at keeping secrets -- mine, anyway. I mean, if you tell me something and tell me not to tell, I'll go to my grave with your secret. So, if you've ever told me something in confidence, rest assured I've never told a soul. Probably. Just kidding!

So, the big secret is that starting in August I'm going to be writing over at Bodies in Motivation!! I can see your mouths are all agape. Yes, yes, it's true. I'm about to begin a fitness regime, a boot camp style workout that meets twice a week. And what better way to make myself accountable to my new endeavor than to make myself accountable to a bunch of strangers (and a few friends, I hope) on the internet, right? Accountability goes a long way with me. As I told Linda, Bodies in Motivation's creator, I'm a people pleaser and if I tell you I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it, by God, or die trying.

So, here's where I need you guys. I've got to come up with a name for my blog. It needs to be fairly short and as AndreAnna noted (she has a blog over at Bodies, too) the title shouldn't be too limiting because the focus may change over time, as hers has. So, while I'm starting with a boot camp type excercise, I may move on to something else (that is pretty much the only reason I didn't go with my friend Tara's awesome suggestion of Boot Cramp). Oh, and I would also like the blog title to be funny and catchy, if possible. There are some good titles over at Bodies and I want to fit in.

So, here's a couple of things I've thought of so far, or have already been suggested.

Two Steps Forward (BORING! and my idea)

I Volunteered For This?

Do What Now? (this, for those of you that don't know, is what Southerners say (or maybe just my family?) when someone asks you to do something ridiculous, like say, run with a tire across a field) It must be said with a tone of incredulousness. I really like this one, but I'm afraid people wouldn't "get" the title.

TeeTiney BeHiney

So, I'd love to hear your suggestions. I'm offering a prize in exchange for the winning idea. If, for some reason I end up not choosing any of these, I'll do a random number generated pick from the comments and STILL give a prize. So it's a win-win!

Now keep in mind that I'll be gone for a week and will little-to-no internet access while I'm gone. So, it will be at least Saturday before I get a chance to look over the entries.

Annnnd go!

Wish in One Hand....

Every day I have to walk behind the art school to get from the parking deck to my office and vice versa. Now that the weather has warmed up you can usually find some of the art students, paint and clay bespattered, lounging around.

One day last week there was a girl out there, her blanket spread out on the little grassy hill behind the building. She was sitting there, elbows on her knees, dress pulled up to maximize the sun exposure, cigarette dangling from her fingers. And y'all, it looked like Heaven. Now, I don't smoke so it wasn't that I was jealous of. It was her freedom.

She had no where to go, no one to whom she was responsible. I mean, of course this is purely conjecture on my part. She could have five kids waiting on her at home for all I know. But she just looked so free.

And for the first time in ages I wanted to go back to college, to those heady spring days when we'd find a sunny spot on North Campus to take a nap read for classes. The feeling of the warm sun on your bones, knowing that you could stay there as long as you want, with only the passing voices of other students to disturb you.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. But if I would love to have just one of those afternoons back.

My Secret Shame

So, I feel like it's been kind of All Doom and Gloom All the Time around here lately, so I decided to shake things up a bit. I've decided to post some things that I'm slightly ashamed of.

One thing you need to know about me is that I'm kind of a music snob. I will secretly judge you if you like certain singers and bands. I live in a town that is full of awesome music. REM and the B52s got their start here. This is where great bands are born. But.

Miley Cyrus' "Hoedown Throwdown" makes me want to crank up my radio and dance in my car.

There. I said it.

Also? I don't hate Justin Bieber's "Baby."

Whew! That's a relief to get that off my chest! Woo, this feels pretty good...I think I'll keep going.

I like cheap beer. I don't mean like PBR or anything, though I have been known to drink it. But I do like Michelob and Coors. (AndreAnna, please don't scoff. I get enough ridicule from my husband, the beer snob!).

I like mariachi music. It's weird I know. I can't help it. I also like cowboy yodeling.

I like Grease 2 better than Grease 1.

Sometimes I listen to XM's Kids Place Live even when the kids aren't in the car.

I think Adrian Brody is kind of hot. Actually, I think he's really hot.

In a related note, I have a thing for guys with big noses. You know what they say...big noses, big....tissues! LOL!

They say confession is good for the soul. What's your dirty secret?

Madame Queen: Up Close and Personal

Back in September? October? I went to see my doctor because I just wasn't feeling like myself. My patience was *this* thin. I felt angry and hateful all the time. Sometimes my arms felt so heavy that I didn't even want to lift them to do the most menial of tasks. I could barely walk up a flight of stairs without feeling completely overwhelmed. I had a sneaking suspicion that I might be depressed.

See, I've dealt with depression before, so I recognized it's signs. In college it was brought on by a couple of bad relationships and my inability to take care of myself emotionally. This time I think it was a couple of things: 1) Our financial situation and 2) my stress and worry and frustration over Punkin's behavior issues.

All I knew was that I didn't like myself very much, didn't like the mom I was being, so I made an appointment with my MD. He suggested that I try an antidepressant, Lexapro, for a while and see how I felt. Now, I'm not a huge proponent of taking medication and I try to avoid it if possible, but I believe that sometimes your body's chemistry gets out of whack and my MD confirmed that prolonged stress can do that to you.

So, I started taking the Lexapro with the plan that I would see him again in March and if I was feeling better that I would come off the medication.

I've been off the medication for a week now. And slowly but surely I can feel my patience stretching thinner and thinner. All weekend I was like a rubber band about to snap. Mr. Daddy and I bickered at each other all weekend and I just felt MEAN.

And this morning I WAY overreacted to something Punkin was doing and I made her cry. In a bad way. And I hated myself for it.

Surely I can't be reacting to the lack of the medicine in my body already? My doc said it would probably be at least a month before I started to notice anything, if I noticed anything at all. Am I just imagining this? I hope so. I don't want to be this way. I dont' want to be that woman. That mom. I don't want to be snappy and impatient.

Mr. Daddy reminded me this morning that I am in control of my responses. And while I think he's right to a certain degree, some of this feels beyond my control. It's almost like my body and my brain react before I have a chance to tell it to calm down. But I don't WANT to go back on the medication. So I'm going to try to up my exercise. I'm going to practice deep breathing. I'm going to try to walk away from stressful situations when I can (read: PUNKIN!).

Anybody else ever been through this? Any suggestions?

To Write or Not To Write

As usual, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, though I did feel sort of like dying there for about a day. Punkin has had "the crud" -- aka a yucky cough -- for about a month now. She's been on two different antibiotics for it during that time period, but neither has been strong enough to completely knock it out. And this time my mommy immune system wasn't strong enough to keep it at bay and Mr. Daddy and I were both felled by the cough.

Unfortunately for me, I had too much to do to actually be felled by it. I had to keep plugging along because on Monday and Tuesday we inducted four new writers into the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame.

This is, by far, my favorite event of the year, but for some reason it just wipes me out completely every year. It's a very labor intensive event -- lots of preparing in the days ahead and an attempt at complete attention to detail and catering to every need or anticipated need over the two days.

I love the event because I love being around writers. I love hearing them talk about writing and how they do it, and where, and when and what their process is. I always come away feeling inspired, like maybe I could write the next great American novel.

But that's as far as I get -- the inspiration part. I never actually DO anything about it. To a man/woman, every writer I've ever met has talked about the desire, nay the compulsion, to write, to get their stories on paper. And you know what? I don't really have that. I mean, I have stories and ideas for stories floating around in my head, but I don't have a burning desire to sit down and get those stories out.

I like to blame it on a lot of things. I'm tired. I have too much do. But one of the writers I met this week gets up at 3:45 in the morning to write. The other used to get up before her young daughter was awake so that she could write then. I already get up at 5 a.m. every day but there sure isn't any time to write. I think about writing at night, but by the time we get home and I get dinner ready and get everybody bathed and ready for bed and maybe fold a few clothes or straighten up the house, I mostly just want to sit on the sofa and watch television or read a book.

So, maybe I'm not really meant to be a writer. That's kind of hard for me to come to terms with because people have always encouraged me to write. Or maybe it's just not my time. I guess we'll see how it all plays out.

Perfection, fleeting

This morning as I went to wake Punkin, I realized that my children are never more perfect than when they're sleeping. Little angels, hands still clutching lovies, sweet breath, soft skin. The day hasn't begun yet, there have been no tantrums, no tears. No defiance has yet marred the day.

But I also realize at that same moment that I'm never a more perfect mother. I haven't been dismissive or angry. I haven't had to repeat myself a thousand times. I haven't yelled or lost my patience.

Oh, to be able to hold on to that moment for the entire day.

Sun, Sun, Sun, Here it Comes....

It's springtime and for a small-town Southern girl, at least one who hit her teen years in the 80s, that means it's time to tan. As spring break and the prom drew near, that meant it was time to don last year's swimsuit, spray oneself liberally with the awesomeness that was Hawaiian tropic and head out the back yard. Where, if it was still a little early in the season, one could just as eaily be covered by chill bumps as the rays of the sun. Or if later in the season, you could hook up an oscillating fan to an extension cord and keep yourself somewhat cool while the rays baked your body to tanned perfection.

Or if you were really serious about your tanning, you'd jump in your car and head to one of the many, many tanning salons and there you'd don those little glasses (or not, depending on whether or you valued tan eyelids over protecting your vision), maybe your swimsuit or maybe, if you didn't want any of those pesky tanlines, just the lower half of your swimsuit.

And though I haven't been in a tanning bed in nearly 15 years and I don't set out to get a tan (much!) anymore, I have been hearing the siren song of the tan for a couple of weeks now. I look at my pasty winter flesh and remember how much better it looks with a tan. I can still remember how absolutely wonderful a tanning bed nap is. I posit that there is no better nap. It's the perfect length and you're toasty, toasty warm the entire time.

I long for the smell of Hawaiian tropic. When you open that bottle childhood memories of the beach pour out like a genie, granting me my wish of taking me back in time to simpler days. Days spent playing in the waves, building sandcastles, heading back to the hotel room for a sandy lunch in the ice cold room followed by the most delicious post-beach nap, only to head back out again after the sun is no longer directly overhead. We'd stay out until it was time to get ready for dinner or until one of those passing summer thunderstorms ran us indoors.

I'm on a furlough day today and the weather has finally warmed up. This morning I sat on my back deck with a book and a cup of coffee. The sun actually felt good for my soul and I felt my spirits coming out of hibernation.

I fully understand the dangers of sun exposure , so no need to lecture me. I don't go crazy with the tanning anymore and I certainly don't get in tanning beds. But this morning as I sat there, I pulled the legs of my pajamas up and let the sun warm my shins. And it was good.

The Evolution of a Blog

So, here's the thing. I haven't written here in a while. And while I occasionally think about it, the longer I stay away the harder it's been to come back. I'm not sure why this is, but I've found the same is true of other things that I've neglected. The more guilty I feel about something, the harder it becomes for me to address whatever it is that I feel guilty about. Exercise, anyone? Counting Weight Watcher points?

I've been thinking a lot about why I started this blog and how I felt about it when I stopped. When I started I felt like I had a lot of stories to tell. I wanted to record the events of my life. I wanted to connect with other people online. I wanted to see if I could do what the bloggers that I loved were doing. And at first it was fun. I made some really great online friends -- many of whom I still consider to be my friend today, even though I've never met them in real life.

But then, for some reason, everything changed. I started to worry more about my comments than anything else. If people didn't comment on a post, or if not "enough" people commented, I took it really hard. Or if hardly anybody commented on what I thought was a great post (one that I'd worked hard on), but tons of people would comment on something I just tossed out there, I was wracked with doubt. What if I'd lost sight of what was "good."

And frankly, that thought still haunts me. What if nobody comments? What if I've lost all my readers?

But today I'm back because I'm trying something new. I'm writing. I mean I'm writing just to be writing. I'm reading the most amazing book about writing -- Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. I'm barely two chapters into it and already I'm inspired. People have always told me I have a gift with writing, but whenever anyone says that I always discount their opinions. It makes me feel VERY uncomfortable whenever anyone compliments my writing. I have no idea if it's good or not (and this is not a ploy for compliments), but I've decided to try to write something. I don't know if it will be a novel, a memoir, or a short story. But it's going to be something.

And I'm going to write here. I've missed it. I hope you'll join me. But if you don't I'm going to try not to take it to heart.

Take the Plunge

On Saturday, Punkin and I attended the birthday party of one of her classmates. A pool party to be exact.

When we got the invitation I immediately went into panic mode -- I was going to have to wear a bathing suit. In front of people! Never mind the fact that I went to the beach twice this summer and wore a bathing suit -- in front of people! That was easy! Those people were strangers.

Honestly, though, I don't mind wearing a swimsuit even in front of people I know. Those people, for the most part, love me for who I am. Cellulite and all.

Well, don't you know these people, you ask? No. Not really. I see these people occasionally. Add to that the fact that Punkin's school is in the heart of a very wealthy county full of stay at home moms who spend a lot of time at the gym. Or at least they look like they do. These are the types of moms who intimidate the heck out of me. The ones whose jeans are pressed, whose clothes never have a stain on them. The moms whose nails and toenails are always painted, whose purse doesn't look like it just traveled with a St. Bernard up a snowy slope. These are the moms whose hair is always just so, or if it's not, it's so artfully tousled as to still be perfect.

But, Punkin won't swim with out me. I've come to learn that I can't force her to do things she doesn't want to do (a lesson that I've learned the hard way and another post for another day!). So, if we were going to go and have fun, then I was just going to have to get over myself.

So, we packed up our suits (and my courage) and we went. And you know what? There were all kinds of moms there. Skinny moms. Fat moms. In between moms. Blonde moms. Brunette moms. Harried moms. Calm moms. I saw several moms who didn't bring their suits, who preferred to sit on the side of the pool and watch. And I saw moms like myself who got in the pool and played with their kids.

As the party wore on, I realized that I'm pretty comfortable in who I am in a lot of ways. My body may not be perfect, but I like it. Well, maybe not like it, but I'm certainly not ashamed of it. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I also realized that I like the kind of mom I am, and after the past several months, let me tell you, that was a good feeling.

I also realized that I don't feel inferior to those women anymore. I'm not quite sure how that happened, but it's a good feeling. And just think, if I hadn't gone, if I had let fear hold me back, I might never have discovered this about myself.

What are you letting fear hold you back from?

What I Did on My Blogging Vacation

So, what have I been up to in my absence. A lot, actually.

To summarize (not necessarily in chronological order).

1. Went to the beach, twice. Once to Myrtle Beach, SC and once to St. Augustine, FL.
2. Finally met my goal weight at WW (I think y'all knew that already) and maintained for 6 weeks to attain lifetime status. I have gained a teensy bit back -- it doesn't help that yesterday I ate everything that wasn't nailed down as well as a few things that were -- but I know what I need to do to lose and so tomorrow I'll get back on the wagon. After all, tomorrow is another day, right Katie?
3. We bought a new car.
4. Bubba finished kindergarten and went to the YMCA all summer. He was elected Camper of the Week during Week 4 for his outstanding attitude.
5. We changed schools for Punkin
6. Punkin aged me by about 10 years.
7. We ended up seeing a child psychologist
8. Got together with my best friend from fourth-sixth grade (also thanks to Facebook!)
9. Bubba lost his first tooth eating a s'more while we were on vacation. And he unknowingly swallowed it. The toothfairy brought him $5(!!) for his first tooth. Mostly because that's all she had. We joked that she used her TPS (tooth positioning system) to locate the tooth way down in his belly. Bubba is convinced she went down there to get it and I didn't try to persuade him otherwise.
10. I cut off all my hair. It's shorter than I've had it in a while.
11. I finally read the Harry Potter books. Actually, to be completely accurate, you would have to say that I devoured them. I read the first two in three days and although the others did go a bit slower I read them all pretty quickly.
12. Joined a book club, though I have yet to be able to attend a meeting. I hope to rectify that tomorrow.
13. Had almost weekly lunch dates with the Banshees.
14. Tried to grow a garden -- failed miserably. Worse even than last year's carrot floss. Our ground is blighted. You try growing something in what amounts to terra cotta. While our grass did take hold somewhat, in part thanks to the VERY wet spring we had, we still have a long way to go. I figure we'll get our grass just the way we want it just in time to tear it all up while we build our house.
15. We got a new fish. That actually lived. Now we have two: Senor Pescado and Baz.

And....that's about it. I think. I've got more stories to tell when it comes to Punkin. God, I missed you guys during what I've come to call Punkin-gate 2009. Retroactive advice will, of course, be accepted.

So what have you guys been up to? And don't try to make anything up because I HAVE been checking your blogs from time to time.

I'm SOOOO Grounded

Hello? (Hellllohelllohelllo)

Anybody there? (therrretherretherre)

ECHO! (echoechoechoecho)

I just checked my sitemeter for the first time in ages --- which was weird because I used to check that thing HOURLY -- and saw that there are a few of you who still check in here every now and again. And for that I am profoundly grateful.

You might ask just what the heck's been going on around here. Where have I been? Who have I been with? Just what time did I think it was anyway and couldn't I have called? Didn't they have phone where I was?

The truth is...well, the truth is that there' s not one simple answer. At first it was burnout, plain and simple. Blogging is hard work, y'all. When I first started, topics came me to daily -- nay, HOURLY! -- but as time wore on they just...didn't. Having to sit at the computer every night started to feel like work. And then everything that was going on at my actual job was burning me out even more. I had to put together my spring newsletter at the same time as the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame Ceremony where we inducted 4 authors and hosted 80 people for two days. Those things combined just short circuited my brain.

And then there was Facebook. Ah, Facebook, you naughty little minx. How you seduce me with your word games, your photos of long lost classmates, your memes even! Blogging began to seem like so much work when I could say so much and get so many quick responses from my status updates.

But there was also a very unexpected result of finally sucumbing to Facebook's wiles. I found a friend. Or to be more precise, I reconnected with my one of my best friends from college. And it's been wonderful. And because of her, I now have two new friends (and she told two friends, and she told two friends). And y'all, I have been BUSY.

Blogging connected me to women at a time in my life when I didn't have any real female friends. When I started hanging out with some real live women (can't wait to see how many Google hits I get from those three words!), it fulfilled some kind of need that I had and I didn't feel the need to blog. I shared my stories with them. I went to them for advice. We've gone places! We've done stuff! And I neglected my poor little blog.

But lately I've had the itch again. To blog. There has been a LOT going on around here and we've got a lot of catching up to do -- including the telling of the story about how my three friends and I came to call ourselves The Banshees.

So, I hope you'll stick around...some more. Or come back. Or if you're new here, Welcome!

Maybe Those Experts Know What They're Talking About

I'm feeling better today, thanks for asking. Not so grouchy, though this morning did not start off well. Also, I'm supremely busy at work right now with our biggest event of the year coming up, plus my newsletter is due in two weeks and I'm not feeling quite as good about this one as I have the others.

BUT, I just got back from my exercise class and I'm feeling pretty good. Must be those endorphins everybody's always talking about. I, frankly, had never encountered them before. When I was running (very briefly) in college, I kept waiting for that runner's high you hear so much about. I never did find that mythical beast, just the shakes after I finished my first 5K.

But when I get home from my exercise class I feel like I could do anything. I have the urge to fight the piles of crap that are lying everywhere. The pile of folded clothes mocks me! I want to take on the world! But unfortunately (fortunately?) it's late and there's only so much I can get done. Also, here I am blogging when I could be sweeping. Oh well.

Anyway, I fully credit this class with helping me reach my goal weight. Back in January I was .4 pounds (that's point four pounds, not four pounds) away from goal. The next week I was EXTRA good. I didn't count my points, but I'm pretty good now with figuring out what I need to eat to lose/maintain. I didn't even eat our Friday night pizza that week. And when I went in on January 19th for my weigh in, I fully expected to be at or below goal. But when I stepped on the scale, I had GAINED .8 pounds. Which now meant that I had to lose 1.2 pounds to meet goal!!

My leader told me not to get discouraged, but I did. I basically went on a bender for the next two weeks, eating pretty much whatever I wanted. And I felt my jeans start to get tight. And I got really pissed at myself. So, I signed up for this class because usually when I'm exercising I try to eat well so that I don't undo all my hard work. If I'm going to have to sweat off the calories, it makes me think twice about what I put in my mouth.

Also, I'm going to be 37 this year. Thirty-seven! That year is significant for me because that is how old my grandmother was when she died (in 1940). That is young, y'all. I can remember when my own mother turned 37 she started running and I can now understand this compulsion for health. You want to feel alive. You want to do everything you can to stay alive, to be healthy, to increase your odds of a long life. To see your babies grow up.

So, I get back on the wagon. I watch what I eat. I am (finally) exercising. And I feel good.

Now, let me go tackle that load of laundry.

They're Playing My Song

This morning Mr. Daddy and I were listening to the radio in the car -- we commute together most days -- when The Cult's "She Sells Sanctuary" came on the radio.

"That song right there is the soundtrack of my teenage years," Mr. Daddy mused. "I wore out two copies of that tape. Even though I couldn't understand a word he said."

That got me thinking about my soundtrack. Hmmmm.... What would it be? I started to say "Strip" by Adam Ant, but that sounds all kinds of wrong. But then I started thinking about Adam Ant and how I was pretty much the only person at my high school who liked him. Or had even heard of him.

And then that reminded me of this awesome mix tape a guy made for me in high school. It was full of new wave songs by bands like Yaz, Squeeze, Flock of Seagulls, Depeche Mode. We just didn't get those kinds of bands on our local radio station, but this guy had been to a boarding school in a larger town and had been exposed to more progressive music.

That tape opened up a new world of music for me and the song that I loved most on it was "Goodbye Girl" by Squeeze. So that's going to be the song I choose as my soundtrack.

Man, I wish I still had that tape.

What's the soundtrack of your youth?

Bubba's Mom Has Got it Going On

So, some of you who have been around here a while might remember my Hallelujah jeans. For those of you who don't remember, it's these:

Gap curvy boot cut jeans. Those babies? Don't come cheap. In fact, I only have one pair because $69.50 for a pair of jeans, even Hallelujah jeans, is not something I'm going to be shelling out all that often for. In fact, the pair that I have was a combo birthday/Christmas present last year. All year I've checked the Gap site periodically, but those things just don't go on sale. Well, they DO, but $52 (which is their current sale price) is still too steep for me.

I came into a leetle bit of money over Christmas and since having only one pair of jeans that you actually like is pretty limiting when jeans are pretty much all you wear in your down time, I decided to head to the Gap outlet to see if I could score a good deal.

A quick aside -- it is just me, or are outlet prices just not as good as they used to be? Outlet used to mean cheap. Sure, it also usually meant shoddy, but still, cheap is cheap. And if you had a really good eye, you could usually find whatever you were looking for with no visible flaws for a really good price. Now? Not so much.

Anyhoo, at the outlet those Gap curvy bootcut jeans were still $39.50. $39.50!!! That's closer to what I would consider a regular price, not OUTLET prices. Sheesh.

There was a Lee outlet right next to the Gap outlet and I started to go in, but then thoughts of that hilarious mom jeans sketch from Saturday night live started flashing through my head and I couldn't bring myself to go in. The last time I looked at Lee jeans the options were, shall we say, somewhat limited. And yes, I'm a jeans snob. Sort of.

I shopped around a little more, went back to the Gap and walked around with a pair of $39.50 jeans for a while and then finally put them back.

As I was walking to the car I decided to just check out the Lee store. Just to see what they had, you know. Market research, so to speak. I picked out several pair and headed to the dressing room. There were a couple of pair that definitely had me channeling Tina Fey


But then I found them. These, to be exact:

Lee midrise, bootcut jeans. They may not be Hallelujah jeans, but for only $21? They're heaven sent.

And back then? I was trying to recapture my post-baby body in a pair of jeans. While I haven't completely reclaimed my post baby physique (I frankly think that's an impossible dream), with the help of Weight Watchers I am pretty close to my pre-baby weight. And I like the way I look in jeans again. Especially $21 jeans. Halle-freakin-lujah!

Let's Get Ready to Rummmmmble!

We've got a lot of ground to cover...or at least I do...so let's get started.

We had a great Christmas and I hope you did too. Punkin had a good Christmas last year, but she had a GREAT Christmas this year. She was so excited about everything, from the carols to the tree (I keep hearing her sing "fiiiive goooold riiings!), and of course, most especially the presents.

A couple of weeks before Christmas I finally pinned her down for what she wanted -- a Barbie. I had been hoping to stave off the Barbie avalanche for another year or two, but what the heck. At least it wasn't a Bratz! We were driving in the car when she very solemnly asked me "What color hair do I have, Mommy?"

"Blonde, Punkin."

"That's what I want, a blonde Barbie."

And Santa delivered.

The only thing Bubba really asked for was the Air Hogs car that drives on the wall (which Santa delivered, I might add), but his big gift from Santa was a complete surprise:


"I didn't even ASK Santa for this" Bubba crowed!

Two days after Christmas we left on our annual trip to the shrine of Dolly (also known as Dollywood). We still had our year-round passes from LAST Christmas and it seemed a shame not to use them one more time. I didn't take nearly as many pictures as last time, but here are a couple:


Some of the memories that stand out from this trip are when Punkin and I were riding the ferris wheel, out of the blue she said "Do you know what my favorite part of Christmas was? Decorating the tree!"

My eyes teared up a little, knowing that even though it was one of the most frustrating tree decorating sessions ever, that it had made an impression on her.

Punkin and I aslo shared a bed while we were gone, though "bed" is actually a very generous name for the....thing...we slept on. We were stuck with a very rundown, very saggy, very squeaky (and vaguely pee smelling) fold out sofabed. But, sleeping with Punkin ended up being pretty pleasant actually as it seems that she has grown out of her inclination to sleep with her toes dug into my belly.

One night, as we snuggled in she said "What do you smell like Mommy?"

"I don't know. What DO I smell like?" I asked, half afraid that I was going to recieve some preschooler honesty about my bad breath or somesuch.

"Just regular ol' Mommy" she said matter of factly. Whew! I can handle that.

And that's about it. Since we've been home we've been watching a lot of tv. Or having a lot of "float days" as Laurel calls them. It's an excellent concept and you should try it if you get the chance. It basically involves lots of pajamas and doing pretty much whatever you want all day.

I've got to get going....I've got a book waiting on me. One of my resolutions for the new year is to read more (right, Katie?) I'm also vowing to be more adventurous in my reading -- reading something I might not normally -- though this book doesn't fall into that category. I'm finally reading Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster, which Elena has been recommending to me for ages.

Remind me to tell you about these things:

1. My new, wonderful, amazing, $21 jeans that I found.
2. My deep thoughts that I've been pondering FOREVER
3. ....Hmmmm....I know there was something else...maybe it will come to me.

Happy New Year!

Hi! Did you miss me?

Well, I missed you! Though I was taking a much needed internet-free vacation, I did miss you guys.

Tonight I'm enjoying a little bit of the last SEC football still left to be played, so serious thoughts will have to wait for another time. Tomorrow perhaps. If I can pry the monkeys from around my knees.

There are tales to be told, funnies to share, and serious thoughts to ponder.

Thanks for not giving up on me!