Sunday, September 4, 2016


In news that is surprising to no one, I've learned that I am very boring.

Here is my life, in a nutshell:

Get up
Work some more
More work

Note what is not on this list:
-Travel to exciting locations!
-Meet interesting people!
-Dance like nobody's watching! Or some crap!

Nope. Just work, work, work, work, work. I'm not even in a Rihanna song or anything. That would be far too interesting for me. Also, too much nudity. No one wants to see this mess.

It's okay though, really. You know why? Because these things are not on the list either:

-Unnecessary drama!
-Fear of STD's!
-Anyone having to see me dance! Except in Zumba, and it's okay there!

Really, I like being sane. I like being quiet. I like being "normal" (I use that term loosely, of course). I like working. I don't always love my job, but I like being productive. I like being able to support myself. I like looking forward to having dinner with my whole family on the nights that we get to do that. I like going to my regular Zumba class two nights a week, and I like my running schedule with my son. I like being married. I like feeling secure and safe and loved and respected.

I like my life.

There are things I don't like about my life. No one has a perfect life, obviously. I like mine though. I do. I like my kids. I like my husband. I like my dog. I like our routine. I like "us".

I just booked an Alaskan cruise and I'm excited and happy about that, but I also get excited about the littlest things, like Saturday night church service and having two hours to myself sometimes. I like to stand in my closet and smile at my clothes, because they are pretty and, thanks to Gain In-Wash scent booster, they smell amazing. I like coffee dates with my husband and the fact that everyone knows us when we go to Highway 55 for burgers.

So I'm boring.

It's amazing, and I'm happier than I've ever been.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

In the past

I used to think I was a pretty good mom. Not perfect, but I felt like I was doing okay.

I don't think that anymore.

What I think now is that I have no idea how to parent "adults".

I put that in quotes because, to me, it is ridiculous to consider these two people adults. I mean, technically and legally or whatever, they are. They could get married, join the Army, buy property, whatever. They are old enough.

They aren't old enough.

So I'm having these two hours conversations with them about how hard pre-calculus is, and I can't help. I can't do pre-calculus. I have nightmares about pre-calculus. I cannot help advise what type of job you can get with a history degree and how beneficial that would actually be. I can't seem to find the right words, I don't know the right actions to take. I just feel like I'm failing at this, hard.

The Mom Judging has not ended either. I was hopeful that eventually that would go away, but it hasn't. I'm still getting The Look when I name the community college that my children are attending. "Oh, that's nice," they say, while looking at me as though they've just swallowed bad cheese.

They aren't ready to be out on their own. I don't want them to be, either. I'm afraid that's why they aren't ready. They know people their age who have their own apartments or who are married or have a baby. I cannot even imagine them at that point and it almost makes me feel sick to think about it.

Realistically, I think they are doing fine. They are going to school and they work and they are pretty quiet and nice and never get in trouble or anything. Emotionally I think, "Why aren't they dating?" "What if I've sheltered them too much?" "Will they ever be ready to move away?" It's horrible and conflicting because I'm actually really okay with them not dating and I don't want them to move away for selfish reasons, but I want them to feel okay about doing those types of things. Megan told me at the beginning of the Summer that she'd like to go to Europe this year and I laughed and said, "You can't even drive on the highway!" I mean, legally she can. She has a drivers license. But the thought of her even attempting such a feat fills me with an icy fear for both her well-being and the safety of all the other drivers on the road. I can't imagine her boarding a plane and going somewhere she's never been, with no friends, no mom, no one to guide her.

Parenting is hard and it's always been hard, I guess. I just don't remember it being this hard. I've always felt like I had at least some of the answers and, maybe more importantly, I always felt like they listened to the answers I had. Not so much now. I'm equally thrilled that they've expanded their minds and hearts and horrified that they don't think I'm right about everything anymore.

I think this is all normal, but I've never really had "normal" with these two, so it's scary. People say, "They aren't your responsibility anymore!". Like that's true. Like that could ever be true.

It's all just really scary.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Kids these days

I am getting really, really tired of hearing about how much kids suck these days.

I know what you are thinking right now.

Oh God, she's going to tell another story about how awesome and amazing and perfect her children are. BARF.

I'm not though. I can totally see why you would think that (because I'm that mom and I make no apologizes for it), but I'm not.

Instead, I would like to tell you my observations from the last week.

- Driving in my neighborhood, approximately 20 miles per hour. Two middle-aged ladies on bikes were making loops in the road, covering both sides of the street. One of them looped directly in front of me, forcing me to slam on my brakes so I would not hit and kill her. She and her friend laughed about this as they passed me because apparently almost being killed is just LOLtastic.

-Three different times men have let doors slam in my face, rather than hold them open. Call me a bad feminist if you want (I totally am), but I've raised my son to hold doors open for everyone (especially women and the elderly because I'm Southern dammit) and I would call his little butt out if he didn't.

-Two different times people took the right of way at a four way stop when it was my turn, causing me to have to slam on my brakes in the middle of an intersection to avoid hitting them.

-I heard grown people, grown adults, use "retard" and "faggot" conversationally. In front of children.

-I was nearly clipped when walking in the crosswalk at the grocery store because someone was speeding through the parking lot and didn't feel the need to stop for me.

-A lady pulled out in front of me from the local Christian school parking lot. The road she pulled onto is a 55MPH road. I was going 55MPH. She was going 0. I had to stand on my brakes to avoid hitting her. Then, less than a mile up the road she hugged the rear-end of the car in front of her to avoid letting anyone out at the gas station before the stop sign because apparently What Jesus Would Do is not let someone merge into traffic.

This was just this week. And I was traveling and in the car a lot this week, so this is really just a tiny sample of douchery and not the full-scale of douchery that is going on.

This is what our children are seeing. This is the example they are getting.

They see us arguing about politics on Facebook and acting ridiculous (because God knows we aren't changing anyone's minds). They see every time we put our wants and needs in front of anyone else's. They see when we cut corners. They see when we cheat and they see when we lie. Some of us call ourselves followers of Christ, but then we behave in a manner completely contrary to what Christ taught us (note: All of us are considered God's children, not just the ones who have the same skin color and voting preference as you do, okay? Thanks).

We don't need to wonder why kids are jerks these days, really. So much entitlement. So much disrespect. So much selfishness.

We all need to do better. Every single one of us.

Saturday, August 13, 2016


People are complicated.

Everyone is. Not just me. Not just you. Not just some people. All people. Everyone.

I struggled for the longest time thinking complicated meant bad. It doesn't. Or at least, it doesn't have to.

It just means soup.

I guess that sounds strange, but I was struggling hard to think of a way to explain this the other day and the only thing that I could think of was soup.

The broth is you. Your essence. What makes you tick. What gets you out of bed in the morning. What makes you, well, you.

Whatever floats in that broth is your life experiences.

Some of us are chunky. We've had some things and some stuff. We've been heated and reheated some more. It's okay. We're still soup. We still sustain. We are just more interesting. There's more to us. We're more complex. Little bits and pieces here and there and it's all just a mix of everything we've done, everywhere we've been, and everything and everyone that has been a part of us.

Some of us are tomato. Smooth. Not so complicated. There's still something there, it's just different. Not heart-stopping, not amazing and mind blowing, but good, solid, steady, and valuable.

Either way, it's all just soup. Some people want chunky and some people want tomato. There's both good even though they are different.

Not everyone has had the life I've had and I say with 100 percent certainty that that is totally okay. I have not had the life other people have had either and although sometimes I envy the things others appear to have, I would not want their lives and I'll bet they wouldn't want mine either.

It always amazes me when people say, "Why would she do this? When I was her age I did, XYZ!" when the fact is that when you were that person's age? You had a totally different life. I tell myself this all the time, every day, as I try to navigate parenting adults. I used to think I was a pretty good parent and now? I'm amazed every single day at the number of things I don't know and the number of things I have to learn in order to get through these years.

My daughter isn't me. She's not even close to me and she's very, very far away from what I was when I was eighteen years old. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, "Why isn't she doing this? Why is she doing that?"

She's not me. She had different experiences than me. She's had a different life than me. She makes different choices than me.

Not bad. Different.You can't expect chicken broth and vegetable soup to taste the same.

The good thing is they are both delicious.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Bingo wings

You know what I'm really tired of reading about?

How horrible loose skin is.

I'm guilty of writing about this myself. I have lamented a few times about how different my body is and how I've caught my own skin in things like seatbelts and the back of chairs. It sucks. I'm not going to lie.

You know what sucks more?

Not being able to run.

I can't run fast, but I can run now. I wasn't able to run before.

You know what else sucks more than loose skin?

Being told you are pre-diabetic and need to make some changes or you are going to be full-blown diabetic.

You know what I'm willing to have loose skin for?

Being told by my doctor that I'm not pre-diabetic anymore. That I was completely healthy. That I didn't need to worry about anything but being a little low on Vitamin D.

I got to have that day.
That was a really freaking awesome day.

I will never be able to afford to have my loose skin removed. That's okay. It's not pretty and I don't like it and no, I'll never look like a supermodel and honestly? Some time I feel a little bit miffed that I worked so damn hard to still have "problems" with my body.

That being said? Honestly, it's really not that big of a deal though. I promise.

Three different people in the last month told me they were super concerned about losing weight because of the loose skin. All of these people have a lot to lose, like I did. All of them probably wanted some sort of reassurance from me. The type of reassurance that I cannot give.

Yes, your body will change. I don't think there is any way around that. It will suck. There isn't a way around that either. It's hard. It's very mentally taxing. It's very emotionally jarring. You look in the mirror and your body isn't your body anymore. You learn to dress yourself in certain ways. You're proud but at the same time, it's weird. It's just...weird.

I would rather feel weird about my skin that have that extra 210 pounds on my body. I would rather be able to run. I would rather be able to jump. I would rather be able to lay my head down at night and not worry about my health.

I promise. I swear.

Loose skin is not the end of the world.  It really isn't. I'll still wear sleeveless dresses and two-piece bathing suits.

I'm forty. I do what I want.

I earned these mammaw arms.