Wednesday, January 11, 2012


1988. Playing baseball with garden tools in the front yard. (genius, huh?)I am the youngest of four, a title that holds beauty and pain all at the same time, so of course, I was the catcher. Strike one- I was out. Garden hoe to the lip.

1990. I am in front of our hometown hospital, walking along the brick entry way, waiting for my dad to get out of surgery. My brother tells me to be careful, I tell him to shut up, BAM. Busted knee.

1991. Breckenridge, Co. Leaning back in a barstool. My mother tells me not to. I do anyway, cause of course, I know better, and BAM. Busted chin.

1991. Eufaula, America. Cousins reunion. My sister sat and squished my club crackers. I got pissed off cause no one was disciplining her, and ran out of the door. Funny thing, those doors with hydrolicks (sp). BAM- busted eyebrow.

April 2001. Back surgery. Scar from neck to hip, over to other hip. Yes- this too was an accident of stupidity, and almost cost me my mobility.

October 2008/March 2010. Two of my most favorite scars. My csections scars from the births of my beautiful boys.

We all have stories to tell. Scars that reflect where we have been, and what we've learned. Battle wounds of a sort. Some are visible. Some aren't. Some are external, some are internal, but both are the same. No matter how much motivation you have, a scar is a scar, and will not disappear. They are there forever. To remind you of a hard lesson learned, or remind you of when your heart was broken. They may not be equal in form, but they all have a story to tell if you'll let them.

I love my scars and would never attempt to cover up one of them. It's just the beginning of my story. I will continue to get them. I will continue to make mistakes in my life. Every day. I probably don't and won't handle things the way people would like for them to be handled. But you know what? It's MY scar. Inside or out, it's fate is in my hands. I'm in charge of me, and you are in charge of you.

My three year old understands this, and he still poops his pants.

Be conscious. Be thoughtful. Lift one another up, don't have eyes like daggers. It takes so much more energy to hate than it does to love. You just don't know what the story is behind the scar of another.

Be kind. If not for any other reason, let it be because you never know the story a scar of another may tell if you let it. It may represent something completely different than what you first assumed. It may change your life.

Remember that Jesus guy?

Sunday, January 8, 2012

a new day

Ahh.. the holidays are over.  I couldn't help but be happy about that this year.  Over the years, I have witnessed people get older and start to resent the holidays.  Too much togetherness, it's a pain to decorate, gotta fight the crowds, yada yada.. I hated this. I have always loved the holidays. Love seeing family and friends, LOVE to decorate my house with what I thought was its most beautiful appearance.  Until this year.  This year was different.

John and I only get the kids 3 gifts each year.  That is what Jesus was given, so I think it a) reminds all of us why we really do all of this in the first place, for Him, and B) helps them to understand and appreciate what they are getting. they aren't just throwing things to the side to get to the next gift. Of course, Santa has his own ideas in mind, and I can't help what he brings.

I love seeing people I don't normally see.  It's funny really, we live in a town of 40K, but sometimes don't see family members that live here until the holidays roll around. Maybe its not funny, maybe its pathetic. I don't know.

I took down all of my decorations on the 26th.  I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. Maybe John's minimalistic view on decorating/everything is finally rubbing off on me.

What I did experience this year makes it the most magical one yet. I experienced the magic that I don't remember feeling since I was little.  Don't get me wrong, I concentrate on the real meaning of Christmas every year, and that in itself brings its own magical and beautiful feeling, but with little ones, Santa is something else entirely. And this year, the boys finally got it.

Watching them Christmas morning is something I will never forget- and it has been my most beautiful Christmas yet. Will just couldn't believe that Santa remembered what he asked for, and that since he was a good boy (cough cough... ) he got it! Santa, in my opinion, is very forgiving of the terrible 3's.

With the new year brings new changes for most. A new beginning- a new chance to start over.  What I have tried to focus on this year, instead of resolutions (which I fail at- every.single. year.) is to remember not to be so hard on myself.  With each new day God promises us renewal- a new start- a new chance. Every day. Why wait for this to be once a year, when we can have it every morning? My quest and promise to myself is to remember this every morning in my quiet time.  Grace, forgiveness, and renewal is available to me every day, and I will continue to be thankful for that.

I hope each of you are successful in your resolutions.  If you aren't, remember- tomorrow is a new day.


Monday, November 21, 2011

a change in the making, part II

I've had a big fall.  I say that for two reasons. One, I think I've eaten my weight in junk food. I am certain I am going to have to break out the fatty jeans or live in leggings.

I'm kind of okay with this. Food is good, and leggings expand.

Two, I have learned so much about myself.  I have always been so envious of my dad for being so wise.  He has given me tidbits of advice throughout any trials that I have had, and I have always looked at him and wondered how he knew so much. Seriously. I am a hot head, I am impatient, I have prided myself on being "tough", and I have a VERY quick tongue.  The thing that I have learned is that I got a lot of this from him, and the only thing that tames this wild beast is time and experience.

I've learned that there are few things in life to get angry over.  Every day occurances are not worth the sweat off of your brow.  There are big things going on in the world. People who have real problems.  Mine are trivial in comparison.  The kids won't quit crying or fighting? That means I have children- something that I wasn't sure of 5 years ago. And I have TWO.  They are warm, full, and healthy.  The house being a mess? It means that I have a house, and I have a job and a family that keep me from cleaning it.  Social drama? People care enough about me to be angry with me, and I have people in my life that I care enough for to be angry with them.  There are people that have no one to even speak their name.  I cannot imagine that kind of lonliness. 

I am so impatient.  If I am three deep in line at Walmart I lose my mind.  I would never make it in a big town because the traffic in my little ole town makes me MAD.  However, after this fall, I am beginning to look at it differently. This is such an opportunity from God to have quiet time. Its a gift.  Although I am a complete work in progress, I am really trying to appreciate this and take in those small moments.  No moment is a waste of my time. All of it is a gift and meant to be treasured.  If waiting in line is a waste of my time, then that is my fault it was wasted.

Ever since I was little my dad has told me that I have two eyes, two ears, and only ONE mouth. This has always been a hard lesson. Im not observant. I don't listen. I talk WAY too much. There is a line in a "What do I know of Holy"  by Addison Road that struck me and probably changed this part of me. she says " I try to hear from heaven, but I talk the whole time"  This is the story of my life.  I always wondered why I haven't felt that connection with God in so long.  It has a lot to do with the fact that I wouldn't shut my mouth. I wasn't listening for Him.  I don't know how I missed the memo on this one, but I certainly did.  Its pretty essential, folks. And practicing this has changed my life completely. My words to God were also very selfish ones. I was asking for so much, but giving little thanks.  We are blessed, people. So very blessed. Whatever trials and tribulations we endure, we are still unbelievably blessed by our Father. We are so very lucky.

I read something on Pinterest that said the world has enough tough women.  We need mild and compassionate women.  This struck me as odd, because we are told to be strong and independent.  I desire both.  But I don't need to be only tough anymore. I can cry, and its okay.  I can be vulnerable and weak, and its okay.  I can admit my faults, and its okay. I am a strong and independent woman, but I am also human.  I struggle with this one a little- my big brothers raised me to be a tough one.  I think the goal is to strive to be a woman of strength, AND of grace.

I really am just in awe of life sometimes.  I look back 10 years and hardly recognize the woman that I was.  I'm sure this is just the beginning of a long process of evolving- becoming the person that you are intended to be, that God intends for you to be.  I am not regretful of any experience that has had a hand in my evolvement, for they have made me into a person that as of right now, I am pretty proud to be.  I think I'm doing okay navigating the waters lately.  I'm sure that at some point I will encounter something that challenges me and makes me gasp for air and feel like I'm drowning, but that is when I know to have faith, and to stop what I'm doing, and to listen.

Last things last...

One- check your dryer vents. Ours was clogged and caught our dryer on fire. FLAMES. It was caught in time, and I get a new dryer, but still- it could have burned the house down. 

Two- The child is still pulling his poop out of his diaper. Help.


Wednesday, November 16, 2011


so my form of intimacy may be TMI. Proceed with caution.

I'm having an issue with the large kid.  He won't potty train. Doesn't have a care in the world if his diaper is full to the brim and hanging to his ankles.  He just rocks it and keeps playing.  I don't really push it. I'm not one for milestones, or what they are "supposed to be doing"... I don't really care as long as they are clean, full, warm and happy.  I figure he won't throw his graduation cap in the air while wearing pull ups.  This is my hope. who knows. I'm sure its happened before.

The latest though, is that he is pulling out his poop and placing it in strange places.

you heard me.

I have yet to witness this, but my husband and cousin have on occasion, and I have to say, I am disgusted and humored all at the same time. Gives a whole new meaning to the term "toilet humor", doesn't it? So, here are the wonderful places that the poop has been placed.

the garbage disposal. yup- you read that correctly. we have cleaned.
the playroom floors and wall.
the walls at my cousins house

and the most mysterious location is somewhere in the vicinity of the couch.  I say this only because we haven't found it quite yet.  We just know it smells.

Kinda reminds me of when his belly button fell off and we couldn't find it.  Still haven't. Maybe its with the poop.


Thursday, July 7, 2011

The knock off dilemma

So I have a fetish for knock off bags and the like.  I will thoroughly inspect the good inside and out, and I am very picky about what I buy.  Thing is, I have decided, and am convinced, that street vendors and other people selling knock offs are just outlet stores for these hoity toity designers.

But that isn't my dilemma.

I own some authentic goods, and I own some knock off goods. I'm about 99% sure that no one would know which was which without me blurting it out (which I do every time- I am very proud of my bargains.), but at the same time- what is worse? Paying sick amounts of money to carry the real thing, or pretending that what you are carrying is the real thing?

As I get older, I search for authenticity in a lot of places.  In people, in their actions, in my faith- but mostly in myself.  I am not a fan of the person that pretends to be one kind of person, but deep down they are a completely different soul.  I like genuine people.  I admire them. If you are a rude and miserable person, just throw it out there. I would rather deal with a jerk than deal with someone rude yet smiling.  I can't handle fake. I wasn't raised like that, and my face doesn't react well to fake responses.  I will completely look at you like you are insane. My apologies- it's like a reflex.

How do you handle people that are unauthentic?   You can't pack them up and send them back to China like you can bags.  I try to be a nice person, and although I am sporting a crinkled brow, I don't think I offend the offender.  I have heard "kill them with kindness" but that doesn't satisfy me.  I want to shake them and insist that they be real to me and to others.  So to ask again, how do you respond to this?

Hopefully I will wake up to a genius response after a bad nights sleep of having nightmares filled with toddlers and airports.

And, by the way, this comes from no place in particular other than the fact that I just ordered a fake bag, and I have to say- it's darn nifty.


You're Kidding Me!

I don't remember this from my childhood. Could Al Gore be right?! This is insanity. Its too hot to breathe. Swimming pools feel like bathtubs. I may be melting.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

out with the dukan, in with... nothing.

You know, I'm not a big meat eater.  This is something that I should have considered when attacking a protein diet.  What's a girl to do when she loves carbs?!  Right after we got married, I read Skinny Bitch. BAD IDEA for the daughter of a man that raised and butchered cattle.  I called my dad to declare I was a vegetarian. I didn't last on that either. Sometimes a girl just needs a steak.  Grey is not my strong suit in any situation. I'm a black and white kinda girl.

I can't tolerate when people are all about fad diets.  Sadly, I got sucked into this one. I am sure that it works, as I have a friend that is melting away on it, but at the same time, and at the end of the day, there is only one truth- burn more, eat less.

The thing is, when does "burn more" come into play? I have spent the last 2.5 years going to work and then taking care of babies.  I get home, and it is a madhouse until 8pm.  There is no time to work out, so here it is. This is what I may have figured out-  While in the pool today, I strapped my 18 month on to me and swam across the pool maybe 500 times. (I may have exaggerated that a little) That is surely enough to burn of something, right?

Did I mention he was naked? How's that for a redneck adventure. In all seriousness, why can't I work out while spending time with my kids? The thing is, I can do a little something good for me, and fun for them.

I refuse to post anything else about weight or working out.  Well, I may complain, but no more remedies from me. You read it here, folks- burn more, eat less.  I'm a walking hypocrite. But fact is fact.  As my dad says, there is no free lunch.  Take that literally.

Other than that, the boys are truly hilarious each day.  Neither of them listen, and I watch a lifetime's worth of Scooby Doo each day.  Will's favorite is Behlma. (velma) and he screams her name out when she is on.  Last night he said "Run Shaggy! I love you!" I also heard rumors of a Toy Story 4.  God help us all.

Luke is a mess. Smiles all day, and you can't help but smile back at those dimples. He is fiercely independent, and at times I know in 10 short years he's probably going to sneak out and steal my car or burn the house down.  The kid is fearless.

Headed to the beach soon.  The boys first plane ride.  I have bought everything at One Step Ahead related to travel, and have an Amazon box coming each day with distraction toys, bags for car seats, and sunscreen bracelets. I think I'm pretty prepared for the kids, but my husband may kill me before we leave.

I hope you all had an awesome holiday.  We are so lucky to live in a place where we can write whatever we want to write, say whatever we want to say, and do what we want to do.  It's easy to forget that sometimes.