$800,000 for a baby's photo? Only In America

So, this morning I see that Jessica Simpson's baby, Maxwell, has made her big debut on the cover of a magazine.  A magazine that reportedly paid Simpson $800,000 for the first pics of the baby girl!  Yeah.  You read that right.  $800,000.

'Hold on just a damned minute!' I thought.  My kids were pretty freakin cute when they were born, and I had to PAY to have their picture taken.  I don't get it.  When did we, as Americans, get so bass ackward in our thinking that this actually appears rational?  As I recently read on a bumper sticker, that's nuckin futs!

Let's think about this.  That magazine would only pay that if it were WORTH it to pay it.  As in, they are gonna sell enough of their crap magazine to far exceed that investment.  How many people buy that smut to make up for $800,000????

How much does this magazine cost, maybe $3.99?  That's 200,000 that have to be sold before the photo is even paid for.  And, while we are on the subject...the damn photo is on the COVER of the magazine.  Hellurrrrr?????  I don't even have to buy the stupid thing to see the kid!  I can see it while I stand in line with my gum and tampons!

Yep.  Welcome to America.  Where we have an enormous unemployment rate, extremely overpriced gasoline, and we pay the wealthy to let us see their kid.  WTF?

Maybe we should just start a traveling Baby Maxwell exhibit.  We can put her in a glass box and pull her from city to city for all to see.  Midwesterners can show up in their flannel pajama pants drinking a Red Bull and scratching their asses and say "Yup.  That there is one lucky baby.  I done seen it now.  I can go home and die happy."

I just don't get it. 

While we are talking about Jessica Simpson, why can't this girl just be left alone?  Do we really need so much reassurance as women that we have to constantly slam this girl into the ground?  "Oh, Jessica looks fat in this picture...let's put it on the cover of a magazine!"  "Oh, she gained a whole shit ton of weight in her pregnancy....look how fat she is!"

Guess what, girls?  We all look like whales when we are pregnant!  Why does it make the paper when a star does the same thing?  Personally, I'm relieved that at least one famous person had the balls to gain the weight and not hide in a dark corner somewhere!  You know, I have actually heard that some stars will deliver by c-section EARLY just to avoid getting too big?  And, we aren't stupid, we know these women are having that crap sawn off of the front of them and then walking out on stage 4 weeks later with a hot bod and saying "Oh, I just have such good genes!" 

WTH ever... More like 'I didn't eat for the past 4 weeks, had 30 plastic surgeons hacking away at me and have a live-in personal trainer.'  Yet, even though we know rationally that it is impossible for them to have bounced back like that, we still beat ourselves up. 

Can you imagine if, in your 8th month, a camera crew showed up outside of YOUR car door as you went into the Taco Bell for that late night craving, and took YOUR picture?  Then, proceeded to put it on the cover of the local newspaper??  Oh, talk about some heads rolling!  "Oh, Hellllll no, they di-ent!"  And yet, here is poor Jessica, obviously plump and glowing, getting her ass reemed for gaining weight.  And then we take pictures of her at horribly unflattering angles, plaster them at every check out counter, and somehow feel better about ourselves???

Good grief.  Sometimes I am actually ashamed to be a part of our culture at all.  Here's the deal girls.  I gained 60 lbs in my first pregnancy.  I looked like a damned hog.  I actually excreted so much oil from my pores that I left shadow marks on my bed sheets where I laid.  I looked awful.  I had to use a rolling cart from Travis's garage to roll my fat ass around in the garden to plant my flowers because I was too huge to kneel and plant them!  I looked awful.  AWFUL. 

Now, granted, it took me 10 years to get back to normal.  I had some extreme issues that most of you won't, as a result of the medical issues my first child had.  I'm sure most of you bounce back in a year or so.  But, my point is:  Why is it okay to call her a hog?  I can tell you, if someone had done that to me when I was pregnant, I may have actually yanked their aorta out through their esophagus and then shoved it up their butt, just for fun.  I was hormonal, emotional, and twice my normal size. Do Not Screw With Me is what my shirt should have said.  Just as a public safety precaution.  I actually had an old man refuse to get in an elevator with me at my doctor's office because he thought I was gonna go into labor in the elevator.  I was only 6 months pregnant.  Reflecting, I think he just thought that I would push us over the weight limit posted on the little faded sign at the back of the elevator. 

I looked like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man.  I felt like hell.  I looked like hell.  I probably smelled like hell, given the stains on my sheets that looked like a homicide investigation was being mapped out on my bed.  If my picture had shown up on the front page of the Jefferson County Leader....Girl, you know there would have been bloodshed! 

Cut Jessica some slack.  Take a look at the behemeth of a child she is holding in her big photo debut. The kid weighed something like 9lbs 13oz at birth.  Poor girl practically gave birth to Volkswagon, and we are making fun of her for gaining weight?  The kid is one month old and Jess already nearly disappears behind her in the photo.  I think she came out carrying a purse, drinking a latte and wearing cut-off denim shorts.  Rather than crying when she was born, she looked around the room and asked, "Where's my agent?"



Let's all take a step back and think about what it would be like to live in the fishbowl of fame.  It would be nice to be rich, sure.  It'd be super sweet to get paid almost a million bucks to have your kid's photo taken.  But, in the end, I'll stick with my 'regular' kids, my boring life, and my stretch marks and smooshy evidence of massive bodily expansion that I cannot afford to have cut off.  I'm considering going down to the local supermarket and schmoozing with the deli counter kid.  I'm thinking that a small amount of lidocaine and a few strategic slices of my lower abdoment thru the balogna slicer may be all I need to get a rockin bod like J-Lo.  I'll just turn that bad boy on high and hope for the best!  Flat stomach, here I come!  And when I'm done, I can still afford to buy groceries (once the bleeding stops).

:)
Of course, then I'll be constantly asked to climb across the hoods of cars in music videos.  I'll be hounded for roles in movies, and my kids will be photographed on the playground at school.  Dammit.  I guess I'm screwed. 

Thank You, God, For Camera Phones!

Hello, girls and boys!
So sorry for the delay, but I've been on vacation.  It couldn't have happened at a better time, really. The last couple of weeks have been an emotional roller coaster regarding our work and such...so bring on the beach, right?

It's been a week of discoveries, eye-opening experiences and life-changing realizations.  Plus, I've learned the value of a built-in dvd player and headphones when traveling with young children.  THAT, my friends, is priceless!

So, on that note, I'd like to share a few things I learned while driving two days one way and sitting on my butt at the beach for 7 days:

1.   Apparently in the state of Georgia, it is an acceptable occupation to stand at busy gas stations and make up absurd stories in order to earn a living.  This particular man stood patiently while Travis took a phone call while filling up the tank.  I snapped this picture before I knew what he was doing, as I was, quite honestly, admiring his snappy hair do!
We assumed he worked AT the station, as he stood there so patiently, wearing a button down shirt with a logo.  However, upon hanging up both the telephone and the pump, Travis realized he was in fact waiting to ask a small favor.  He gave a story about how his car was 'all dented up' and that he needed a couple of bucks to get him on his way.  Though he was pretty confident that this guy stood at the same station all day long and collected 'tips', Travis went ahead and gave him $2.  He said he would rather give him the benefit of the doubt and possibly make a bad day better for a stranger than deny him and always wonder if he did the right thing.  I was pretty impressed, I must say!  Seeing that man made me think about how lucky I am to have the things that I have.  Everyone has a life story.  If I die tomorrow, I want mine to be that I worked hard, laughed hard, and loved much.  Not that I denied a man 200 cents because I judged him for things I knew nothing about.

2. 
It became quite clear, quite early in the week, that in the state of Florida, THIS is appropriate attire to wear in public.  This man was probably 55 or 60 years old, and walked around a busy Boardwalk wearing nothing but this.  He worked that Boardwalk like a runway, proud of all that he had to offer the fishermen and visitors.  I couldn't help myself, I had to take at least one keepsake photo!  MEEEOOOOWWWWW!

3.
  In keeping with tradition, it appears even the younger (and in better shape) men were rocking this hot trend this season. I was so impressed, I attempted to find such an ensemble for both Travis and my brother, so that they could be fashion forward this year.  Sadly, they declined my offer.
What can I say?  You can't help the helpless.
 I found this guy in the Publix, buying groceries, and flaunting his OWN package in the packaged meat section.  He carried a colorful umbrella and tiny soccer ball, so I followed him briefly in great anticipation of the Off Broadway production that I assumed would soon begin in Aisle 1. 

My observations and keen fashion sense tell me it's a very flexible outfit, as it can be dressed up or dressed down.  On this particular day, Juan Carlos (as I have deemed him) was feeling fancy, so he flipped his collar up.  I know what you are thinking.  This ensemble can only be rocked while in a more tropical climate, right?  WRONG!!!  Here in the midwest, it could be kept quite casual.  When paired with a wife-beater and a cooler cup, it would be appropriate for a family barbecue or a night at the bar with friends.  :)

4.
  Keeping with my Publix theme, I found this employee taking a smoke break outside of the store.  It is clear to me that Publix is a fantastic employer, as they generously offer their shopping carts to employees for use during Union breaks.  This woman took a load off in the bench seat (intended for corraling small children while mom tries not to break open a bottle of wine in the store to ease her pain).  She smoked her cig, drank a beverage and even stored her personal belongings in the seat of the cart, all while advertising for the chain retailer by wearing her smock and nametag.  SHE is Employee of the Month, I'm confident.  Can you say Management material????

It's just a damned shame they didn't have the racecar or rocket ship carts at this location.  I would have paid good money to watch her extricate herself from that bad boy when her 15 minutes was up.
:)

5.  And finally...

It has come to my attention that, in some areas, you can get a lot more than a belly bomber at the White Castle!  This particular location had a matching car wash!  I had visions of large middle-aged men with their lower furry bellies hanging out of tightly stretched t-shirts entering this sweet little shack.  Puckering the ole poop shoot, fighting to hold in the wretched stench held within their bowels that has developed just from the drive thru line to the car wash line as they crack open that crisp white bag and sneak a  few bites of square Heaven on a bun. 
1997 Toyota Corolla, windows down, trash all over the floor and belly button lint just waiting to be harvested and knit into a nice sweater by mama back at home.
'Roll this sweet ride in there, Clark, and let's douche her out!  It smells like a Crave Case and raw sewage made out in here!'
I salute you, White Castle. Way to take care of your customers! 

Yep.  As you can see, I learned a lot of valuable lessons on vacation.  Now it's time to get the sand out of my butt crack and go back to the real world.  Damn.
 

. 

Drama, Stress and PMS

Just in case you were wondering, drama, stress and PMS do not a good situation make!

However, every event in life is a learning opportunity, I suppose.  At least, that's what all the really smart people always say.

Today has been a crazy day, and it's only 3:55pm.  Actually, the crap started hitting the fan before 7 am.  That's never a good sign.  However, I am doing my best to find the humor in things, the silver lining of the cloud, AND to make lemonade out of all these lemons.  I'm gonna be super busy.

You remember how I told you that God jumped out from behind to sofa the other day, and how much I love it when He does that?  Yep. Figured out WHY He did it now.  Because He was about to pull the rug out from under me, and was just cushioning my fall with a little good news.  You know, like the old commercials where the kids put all the toilet paper in their pants before they went ice skating?
Yep.  He padded my butt with some good news.  Then yanked on the rug.  So, I'm trying really hard to find the good through the stabbing pain I am experiencing in my tailbone.

I was provided a little eye-opening experience to help me through my process.  In the midst of all of my own drama, I was told that a good friend of mine lost a family member this morning.  The death was very sudden, and the family is still a little in shock.  Thinking about this made my own crap seem a little more desirable.  I realized that there is always someone having a worse day than I am.  It made me think about how lucky I am to have healthy kids giggling in my floor, rolling around and aggravating each other.  I heard their little laughs, saw the drool trickle down my 5 year old's face as he cackled, his head reared back as he laughed uncontrollably. 

Though my day has gone much worse than I thought it would, it could be so much worse.  It HAS been so much worse.  I saw my friend's dad this morning, the one that lost his loved one so suddenly around 6:30 this morning.  I recognized the numbness in his eyes.  It took me right back to the day I lost my son.  I can recall immediately how it felt to walk across the room, but not feeling my feet touch the floor.  I spoke, I felt my mouth move and I felt the words come up through my throat.  But, somehow, it echoed through my head and felt like it was coming from someplace else.  I was in my body and out of my body at the same time.  I saw all of this in his eyes today.  He was going through the motions.

Seeing him, and the flood of memories that came with seeing him, put everything else into perspective for me.  Today is a rough day, yes.  I'm not sure what I am going to do to solve the problem that happened just yet.  I am still stressed and sad about it. 
BUT...
Today is also one more day that I have a 5 year old with popsicle smeared all over his face and trickling down his shirt. And today, I have a 10 year old with zebra striped toe nails who is working on writing a children's book as we speak.

They are healthy.  I am healthy.  And I still have those surprises God threw me on Tuesday to pad my butt when I fell.  :)
It's not how I thought it would go.  But apparently He's got this.  So, for now, I'm just drinking that lemonade I made, and being extremely cautious when I approach any rugs...You know, just to be safe. 

Ugh.  Some days I am just in the mood for a giant double scoop of triple chocolate ice cream.  Then, He goes and hands me a kiddie cone of freezer-burnt vanilla.  But just as I am ready to hand it back to Him and tell Him I just want a refund, He smiles and smothers it with hot fudge, foiling my plan to speak up. 

I suppose the lesson is that, in the end, I still got ice cream.  And chocolate.  AND a lesson.
It was just a little different than I thought it would be.  What else is new?

Hoarders, Crap, Dust Bunnies and God (trust me)

Did you ever have one of those days (or weeks) when you just feel like you are drowning?  Overwhelmed, exhausted, fed up and ready to just blow a gasket?
Yeah, me too. 

Everyone has them, in fact.  And, it's usually those times that we are least aware of God.  Not because we want to be, but because we are caught up in the all the hoo-hah going on and we just forget He is there.  The more crap that piles up in our life, the more overwhelmed we get.  The more overwhelmed we get, the further the crap piles up.  It's a vicious cycle, really.  It's kind of like when you watch the show "Hoarders", and the person always says, "I just don't know how this happened."  Only, here, the crap piles are invisible!

It's during these poop-covered times that we should be paying the closest attention to God.  Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to hear Him sometimes.  I swear, He speaks in the tiniest, softest whispers sometimes...it just makes a girl crazy!  BUT, if you pay close enough attention, you can usually pick Him out in the crowd.  Sometimes, when the whispers don't work, He resorts to more drastic measures.  That's when you know He really wants you to pay attention!  However, He gave us all Free Will.  He won't MAKE us do it...He just sits and hopes we will.

The next part, I suppose, would be actually LISTENING to Him once you hear Him.  Yeah, that part is pretty tough.  Sometimes, you can't figure out what the heck He wants you to do.  Other times, you figure out He is wanting you to do something WAY out of your comfort zone.  I swear, sometimes I think He may have me confused with someone else, because surely He is out of His ever-lovin' mind to think I can do that thing I think He is thinking I am gonna be thinking about doing!  He usually wins, though.  Because now that I have learned that following is a lot easier than leading when it comes to playing with Him, I try my best to just shut up and go where He says.  It's like Simon Says, sort of, but with God.  So, seriously, it just seems smarter to play along! 

Dang, it would be easier if He shared the rule book, though.  That's how He cheats.  He's crafty like that.  Half of the thrill for Him, I swear, is the suspense He keeps us in, and that stupid look on our faces because of it.

Sometimes I am convinced He just messes with me to see if I will break.  Or, to show me how much further I can go than I thought I could.  He believes in me, way more than I do myself, because He knows first hand what I am capable of. 

Today was a crazy day.  I have felt overwhelmed, unsure, freaked out and just ready to cry several times.  It happens to all of us.  I did my best to keep trudging along, telling myself that it would work out.  How many times today did I quietly pray, "Ok God.  Please let it all work out.  Please help me." 
Good grief!  At this point, I bet He is sick of hearing from me!  It's been close a couple of times today.  I nearly climbed over the counter at Walgreens and choked a clerk...but I refrained.  It's been one of those days.  Hairy look in your eye, twitchy neck kinda days.  And just when I was ready to  quit (or drink, lol), I heard a rumble behind the sofa.  I considered shutting the door, locking it and telling the rumble to piss off and come back another day, because I did not have the time or the patience for it!  Instead, though, I rolled my eyes, (snotty look on my face, I'm sure) and said, "Seriously, what NOW?" 

Guess what it was?  Behind the sofa....Guess!  It was God.  He jumped right out, surprised the crap out of me, then laughed!  You see, I always know He is close by.  I know He hears me.  I'm kinda loud, He doesn't have much choice in the matter.  But, somehow, even I get caught up in mumbo jumbo and lose track of the big picture sometimes.  When that happens, He always does a little something to spice things up and remind me that He is close.  And listening.  Always. 

He threw me a life preserver when I needed it today.  I almost passed it off as coincidence, so He made the sun come out through the clouds.  I thought that seemed suspicious, but got overwhelmed again and almost turned my back one more time.  So He clapped really loud to get my attention, then smiled at me, winked and dried up all the water in an instant....just in case I wanted to blow Him off one more time.  "How do you like me NOW?"  is what I'm sure He was thinking....  :)

That God.  He's a funny guy.  He always knows just how far He needs to push me to get my attention.  I think He knows that when the water gets up to about my waist,  I'll always wrap my arms around His neck, jump up into His arms and say, "CARRY ME, SUCKA!"  But, sometimes, He just likes to hear me ask nicely. 

And sometimes, He hangs out behind the sofa.  With the dust bunnies, lost socks and pieces of popcorn.  He just sits and waits for you to turn out all the lights, grab a box of tissues and bawl your eyes out because you just can't do it anymore.  Then He  jumps out and says, "Made ya look!!!!  Don't worry, I got this!" 

He's crazy like that.  It's how He rolls....

Mom Spit and Lip Gloss

Happy Mother's Day!

I awoke this morning to a note placed by the clock by my 10 year old.  "Dear Mom. Please don't get up until 7am. I have a few surprises for you."
How sweet, I thought. Until I realized it was only 6:35am.  What in the world was I gonna do with myself for 25 minutes?  No tv...no phone....no computer. 

I yelled down the steps, requesting my phone and computer so that I could spend my time talking to YOU guys this Mother's Day morning.  Thankfully, I was granted permission to descend the staircase some 20 minutes ahead of schedule.  So here I am!

I've been thinking about what makes a good mom.  Or, actually, what makes a mom at all.  It is my personal opinion that utilizing your womb to house a growing fetus does not make a mother.

Being a mom is hard work if you do it right.  Sometimes you lose yourself for a while, getting lost in the shuffle to soccer practice and picking up the same barbies out of the floor every night after you put the kids to bed.  One day, you look in the mirror and think, "Wow.  I really look like shit!"  I've been there, done that.

It was then that I realized that one of the biggest disservices I could do to my daughter would be to lose myself as I raised her.  Being a mother is a self-less job.  There's no doubt about it.  We spend the majority of our time putting everyone else, and our work, first.  BUT...and this is a big but...
We all feel better when we look better.  And, if we take just a few minutes to look better, which makes us feel better, then we can mother better.  It's all a mental game.  If you feel like crap about yourself, you just tend to be a little grumpier, no? 

Then, there's what we are teaching our kids if we walk around in mom pants with a saggy butt, crazy hair and bags under our eyes.  We are teaching our kids that a mom's job is to give everything of herself and expect nothing in return.  Oh, and we are embarassing the crap out of them at the grocery store, too, I may add!  Nothin like mom pants to make a kid not claim you!

I see you in the stores.  Don't think I don't.  Other people do, too.  And, my Lord...your kids see you!  Your daughters, especially.  When you go out in public looking like you don't care, it sends a message to your kids that you have given up.  WHY would you give up?  Every day that you have children that are healthy is a day to celebrate.  Some of us have sick kids, who have issues we never could have foreseen...but if they live another day, and we are blessed to be there for it, then THAT is a victory!  So, why in the world am I seeing you at the grocery store looking like you lost all of your belongings in a fire, and all you have left are clothes that don't fit and an ill-fitting bra? 

Come on, girl!

I have learned that, by finding myself again, I found a way to be happier doing the same things I was already doing for my family.  I just feel  better.  I'm reminded of the verse in the bible regarding how to carry yourself when you fast:


Matthew 6:16-18
But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, ¹⁸ so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

In layman's terms what they are saying is this:  Don't go around advertising that you  are fasting, like "Hey, look at me, I'm a good Christian.  I'm fasting today.  That's why my face is dirty and I look so hungry. Cuz I'm fasting...."

Much in the same way, we don't have to walk around looking rough, wearing baggy sweat pants and our husband's t-shirts that are 5 sizes too big in order to prove we are a busy mom.  Take a little pride in yourself.  You are a pretty amazing creature.  Show it off!

This is my eleventh Mother's Day.  The first was spent in St Louis Children's Hospital with my oldest, just a few days old, fighting for his life in the PICU.  I was overwhelmed, beaten up, scared to death and looked like my body had melted somehow.  Today, my kids are preparing surprises for me in the kitchen, and I am sipping coffee (that they made me, btw) and talking to you.  I'd say I've come a long way!  And lived to tell about it, too.

Whatever your challenges, try to make the best of it.  Sometimes things don't go the way we had planned.  And, dangit, why not look SMOKIN HOT while you do it?  :)  Slap on some eyeliner today.  If you are feelin super sassy, put on some lip gloss, too.  Maybe your kids will think you have
lost your mind, but that's okay.  Don't inadvertently teach your kids that being a mother means losing yourself.  Some day, when they grow up and do the same thing, you will be sad that THAT is what they learned from all of the years you gave all you had to them.  Be proud of being a mom.  An awesome mom.  A beautiful mom.  It doesn't matter if you gave birth to them yourself.  That's not what makes a mother.  It doesn't matter if you are chasing two year old twins or schlepping teenagers around.  Take a couple minutes to go through your closet and burn those big ole sweatpants with the bleach stains.  Throw out the scrunchie from highschool that you still pull your hair back with. 

Be proud.  We are pretty fabulous, us mothers.  We can do all kinds of things men can't do (even though we let them believe they are our big strong steeds who handle everything for us).  We can carry a child in our womb.  And don't forget the Mom Spit.  I mean, mom spit removes anything from a kid's face, it can slick down stray hairs on a kid's head, and in a pinch, can make a boo boo feel better just like magic.  it's not called Dad Spit, now is it?????  Come on, girls.  We ROCK!

  Why not look your best while you do all these amazing things?  You'll feel better.  I promise. 

Happy Mother's Day, girls. 

Gag Me With a Feeding Tube

I just watched something that got me really ticked off.  So, why not vent here to you, right?

20/20 did a special on weight loss fads. 

http://abcnews.go.com/2020/video/2020-511-losing-big-fat-trap-16332735

The show started innocently enough, exploiting how celebs like Janet Jackson, Kirstie Alley and Valerie Bertinelli make upwards of $60,000 for each pound they lose through programs like Jenny Craig.  Screwed up, but not surprising.

Then, it got downright ridiculous.  A new diet program called the K-E Diet.  What is it, you ask?  People are paying $1500 to have a feeding tube put down their throats through their nose.  The feeding tube is attached to a pump that continuously feeds them, 24 hours a day, with 800 calorie/day liquid that looks like baby formula.  Do this for 10 days, and you can lose up to 20 lbs.  Nope.  Not joking. 

Some rich broad put the pump and bag of formula in a Chanel bag and pranced around through the mall wearing a dress and heels with her NG tube taped to her face.  Another was a hair stylist who had her bag perched on her shoulder as she cut someone’s hair. 

Why does this piss me off?  Two reasons.  One, if you have a weight issue, then there are one of two reasons for it.  Either you have an underlying issue that causes you to overeat, or you have a medical condition that is keeping you from losing weight.  I have enough friends who battle their weight to know that you don’t overeat for shits and grins.  You overeat because you have an addiction to food, or you have a demon in your closet that you try to smother with food.  Either way, a feeding tube and 800 calories a day isn’t going to fix the problem.  It’s just gonna set you up for disaster when you drop a few pounds and then gain them back and hate yourself even more.

Maybe you are like I was, and gain weight through pregnancy and then just can’t lose it.  It took me years, and lots of different doctors, to figure out I had some thyroid issues and a candida yeast overgrowth that was keeping me from losing weight.  I was repeatedly discouraged as doctors told me I was just looking for an excuse for my being fat.  That I didn’t have a thyroid problem at all.  I know how frustrating it can be.  But you can’t give up.  I found a doctor who actually listened to me, finally!  I fixed the problem, started doing zumba, and the weight went away.  I get it.  I was devastated by the weight gain.  I was constantly self conscious, and I found myself constantly looking in the mirror wondering how I would ever find the old me again.  I understand.

But, perhaps what pisses me off even more about this K-E diet is the use of the feeding tube itself.  As a mother who had a critically-ill child, I know all too well what the NG tube represents.  I was 24 years old when I gave birth to my first child, Ty.  He was born with Down Syndrome and multiple heart defects.  He had two open heart surgeries when he was just two days old, and spent much of his 3 ½ month life in St Louis Children’s Hospital.

Because he had been on a ventilator, and because kids with Downs have difficulty with sucking, Ty was fed with an NG tube.  The flexible tube, which looks like a piece of spaghetti, was inserted through his nose, down his throat, and into his stomach.  It was a tedious procedure.  The tube was then taped to his tiny little face, often creating a rash.  Sudden movements would cause him to gag, and feeding was like a carefully orchestrated circus performance, all in an attempt to keep from gagging him. 

Despite our best efforts; frequent feedings and a high calorie formula, Ty failed to gain weight.  He was then placed on a feeding pump at night, which hummed away by the side of my bed and fed him all night long.  All of our efforts, hour long feedings and humming pumps only resulted in a couple of ounces of weight gain. 

Yep.  NG tubes are not fun.  To this day, I am haunted by the feelings of longing for my child to just be able to eat normally.   Just one smell or sound can take me right back to that place in my life.  The memories come rushing back, and I am 24 years old with a dying child again.  The sounds of the pumps and alarms, the smell of the hospital, the feeling of the stethoscope in my ears as I checked the placement of the NG tube in his stomach…they are all within reach, filed away in the back of my mind. 

NG tubes are meant to nourish sick people.  Each day, sick children rely on them to keep their frail bodies intact.  The last thing I want to see when I am shopping at the mall is some hag with 10 pounds to lose, walking around with a damn NG tube in her nose sipping a vitamin water.  I’m sorry.  

How far will we, as a society, go to lose weight?  It’s so typical American rationale.  Don’t fix the damn problem, just try to cure the symptoms.  It doesn’t matter WHY I’m overweight.  I just wanna get skinny.  I don’t need to actually FIX the issue, just put a skinny bandaid on it and make me feel better temporarily. 

According to this show, almost 36% of Americans are obese.  That’s 1 out of 3.  No NG tube is gonna fix that. 

There is a reason you are overweight.  I beg you, please, please, PLEASE go to 100 doctors if you have to to figure out WHY you are struggling.  Then, tackle THAT.  Please. 

Because, when I see this:

I am reminded of this:

My sweet boy, Ty.

And I don't find that to be entertaining.   I know a lot of other parents with sick kids who don't either.

My Trip to Satan's Lair

GUTEN MORGEN!!!
(coincidentally, this is the only thing I remember from my high school German class, how pathetic is that?)

Today, I beg of you---PLEASE explain the mystery of Wal Mart, and the strange exhibits within it's walls that appear, at first glance, to be of human descent. 

Last night, I had a few friends over to have a little patio time.  I found myself in quite a conundrum.  One that almost resulted in my death, or the death of others.

I needed to pick up 3 things.  3.  THREE!  That is it.  Just three little things.  But here is where the whole thing went sour:
I needed two grocery items, AAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD glasses.  No, not the kind you wear to see, and my God in Heaven, after going into that place, I would NEVER do anything to actually  intentionally improve my vision prior to walking through the automatic doors to Hell.

I found myself driving and actually having a battle with the voices in my head, trying to talk myself out of doing the sickening thing I was contemplating doing....going into The Dreaded Wal Mart.  I use this phrase as a title because it is, indeed, exactly what I call that place. 

I would rather go to the gynecologist than go to that place.  I will normally drive 20 minutes to the nearest Target to avoid going there.  And here I was, just an hour and a half from my friends arriving, and still in need of these 3 fricken items!!!

I found myself fighting with myself over the steering wheel (now that's a sight, I'm here to tell you).  I really, truly, considered going to Schnucks and praying they had glass wear there.  I mean, sometimes you see those cute little teflon coated pans that come in fun colors with polka dots on them, right?  They hang at the end of the tampon aisle for some strange reason, just a few items over from the laxatives and hemorrhoid cream.  I'm not super certain WHY they are there, or who is buying them...but yesterday, it was almost ME! 

I had this temptation to just go there, get my two grocery items, and then go over to the seasonal section with serving platters that look like a picnic blanket with ants crawling across them, and just pray that the good Lord would put some drinking glasses right there for me.  ANYTHING to avoid The Dreaded Wal Mart. 

Sigh...The next thought I had was of me going across town, going to Schnucks, and them NOT having drinking glasses.  Then I would be schlupping my kids across town trying to find said glasses, and now wasting even more time that I could be doing important stuff like mixing up margaritas!  I mean, come on, a girl has to have her priorities in check!

"Take one for the team," I heard that hag inside my head say.  I honest to God get bitchy from the time my tires hit the parking lot of that place.  I find myself disgruntled just parking and opening my door, and I feel like a preacher walking into a strip club as I cross the parking lot.  I feel like someone is going to see me going into that dump and then I will be labeled one of 'them'. 

So, we walked up to the automatic doors behind an older lady who was savoring the last loooooooonnnnnnngggggg puff off of her cigarette, which created a marvelous cloud of smoke for us to walk directly through.  It was sort of like being Criss Angel, emerging through a wall of smoke to begin a show like no other...except this show was gonna really suck, and I probably have lung cancer now.  As she put her cigarette into the complimentary ashtray at the door, she took a big ole swig of some kind of vitamin water that was in her other hand.  I found this ironic, and slightly counter intuitive, sort of like the people that eat for 3 hours at a buffet full of fried foods, but order a diet soda.
We entered the store with little other drama, grabbed a disgusting cart and went forth to conquer our 3 items.  Again, just in case you didn't remember, that was three items.
Item one got checked off of the list pretty quickly, as it was just inside of the door.  Limes.  CHECK!
Item two was margarita mix, which caused me to have to fight the herd of people that push their carts on what I consider to be the wrong side of the aisle, all the way to the back of the store.  Here I am with my 5 year old perched on the end of the cart, and every hong yong in this place is pushing their carts TOWARD me on my side of the aisle and I wanted to put a little shirt on his back that read, "Do you drive on the wrong side of the road, too?"  I kept thinking of the damage that could be done to his little cute organs if some old woman were to crash into him with her cart because she was distracted by a sale display of Metamucil....but we arrived safely at the alcohol aisle. 
There's something to be said for purchasing margarita mix with two kids with you.  It didn't have alcohol in it, but it still felt slightly wrong.  Of course, my fears subsided when I pushed my cart past the lady who appeared to be pregnant, with her other kid with her pushing the cart, while she loaded up a case of beer.  Who the Hell was I kidding, this was Wal Mart. 

We checked that one off of the list and made a sharp left to head toward the middle of this God forsaken store to try to hone in on the location of the glassware.  Of course, since this dump has everything under one roof, the kids got distracted by things like sunglasses and greeting cards on the way, and I felt myself beginning to itch and considered the idea that I may very well have hives covering my entire body at that very moment.  I simply wanted to get my three items and leave, never looking back, as I may be turned to a pillar of salt if I did. 

I found the glasses, located the best bargain in just under 30 seconds and loaded those dudes up.  'OMG, let's get out of here' I thought.  Until I realized I needed a pitcher for the margaritas.  You see where this is going now, don't you?  CRAP!  We found a cheap pitcher (everything is cheaper at Wal Mart, right?  That's what the smily face guy on the sign implies) and began to make our journey toward the registers. 

SNAP!  I forgot I was gonna grab a pizza (OMG, this is a whole different source of stress for me, as an organic family....don't even get me started, we will tackle this another day) for the kids and hubby since I didn't wanna trash the kitchen I just cleaned by cooking. 

We make our way back to the other side of the universe, again somehow traveling into oncoming traffic that was on the wrong side of the aisle.  We passed a lady and her husband who thought that the middle of the damn main aisle was a good place to stop and count the shit in their cart, and a man with his kid who stood right in the way and I had to navigate past his scrawny son's tiny butt as I squeezed my cart, 5 year old still mounted like a hood ornament on the front, between the kid and a rack of pizza pans.  All of this, to be in the wrong damned aisle.  Turn around, wheels of the cart doing that hop thing that they do when you have a kid on the end of the cart, and go back past the dipshit that is standing with his kid in the middle of the aisle again.  Sweet.  This is awesome.  At this point, the itch has crept up my neck and I am not sure if I have hives or have actually caught something off of this cart.  We make a right and head toward the next aisle, and turn swiftly into the aisle only to discover that, BAZINGA, wrong fricken aisle again.  It was at this moment that I turned into the whiny kid in the store that other mothers want to beat.  I actually whined, out loud, to my 10 year old daughter, 'OMG, this is the wrong aisle again.  I just want to go home....I don't want to do this anymore!' 
Yep, we were closing in on a dangerous moment.  I was within seconds of the actual meltdown.  I could feel it coming on like a bladder infection.  It was headed straight for me, and I didn't have any antibiotics to fight it off!
Back out to the main aisle, (hop, hop, hop goes the wheels again) and go over one more aisle.  At this point, we found the damned pizza and I wished there was a man dressed in a tux handing out wine samples in the aisle because I needed something to take the edge off!  Thought I was gonna get a reasonably healthy pizza, or maybe an organic one...DUH, this is Wal Mart, I forgot!  Instead, we ended up with something that I am confident was full of crap I would never, on a clear-headed day, have fed my kids.  But, I found myself in a compromised state and grabbed the one they picked out and began to run toward the door.  I could hear the theme to St Elmo's Fire as I made my way through the crowds toward the check out counter.  I stood in line as patiently as I could, and unloaded my now 5 items onto the counter. 
It was then that I heard a lady behind me have the nerve to say, "Excuse me, ma'am, you're holding up the line."  Thankfully, I turned around to see someone I actually knew.  She was a normal human being, much unlike all of the other inhabitants of this foreign land, and when she smiled, she had all of her teeth.  I am confident that my left eye was now twitching and I may have looked like I had had a stroke.  I looked at her, right in front of the cashier and all of the other people behind me in line, and announced rather loudly, "Listen here, lady.  I absolutely hate this place, and if you screw with me, I may just CUT you right here!"  I, of course, was kidding.  Sort of.  It occurred to me that I had just said that in front of a bunch of people who probably love this dump, and for a split second I almost felt bad for confessing my absolute loathing of this facility.  I was relieved to look up and see the cashier laughing. 
We got out without further incident, until we got stuck behind a man with a bleach blond mullet wearing a wife beater.  Yep, I'm serious.  He was shopping with what appeared to be his mother, but could have been his lover, or could have been all of the above...  They savored the final victory walk as they exited the store, leaving me stuck behind them trying not to be a hag and pass them and race them to the damned double doors. 
We got to the car, unloaded our stuff, and I went to return my cart to the cart depot, just to find myself walking toward bleach blonde mullet guy head on.  My body shuddered as I looked up and saw that either he was missing an eyeball, or he was winking at me. His sunburned skin shown through his wifebeater, his leathery face all squinty in the sun.  A breeze blew his Hulk Hogan colored locks across his shoulders, and it was like a Fabio book cover, but in the discount bin at the Dollar Tree.  Or a slightly irregular shirt that has an off-centered neck hole and only one sleeve.

 I felt the vomit come up into my mouth, and tried to shake off the experience and run swiftly to my car to lock the doors.  I had escaped with my life.  I had seen death, and stared it square in the eyes and lived to tell about it.  I was a survivor.

I rushed home to unload my 5 items and quickly eliminate the shopping bags that bore the name of the store that I despised.  I considered burning them to destroy all evidence of my trip.  I was torn between destroying them, and weaving them together and hanging them like a flag from my porch as a sign of victory.  I had gone to the depths of Hell, and lived to tell the tale.

So, what I want from you is this.  A tidbit of knowledge.  A morsel of explanation.  WHY does anyone go to that place?  Is it truly THAT much cheaper?  I just cannot explain this.  I realize you can buy toilet paper, dog food, raw meat and fertilizer....AND get a prescription filled all under one roof.  But, truly, is it worth the soap that you go through trying to scrub the Wal Mart off of yourself when you get home?

Please...please....please explain this to me.  Loyal Wal Mart-ians.  Where art thou?  Perhaps there is a secret I know not of.  Share with me the secret of thine affliction that causes thou to do such self-harm!

Seriously.  Fess up people.  WTH?  How do you do this on a regular basis?  Don't lie.  God is watching....

Deep Thoughts....With Jack Handy

GOOOOOOOD MOOOOOOOORNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, today we are going Old School SNL.  Yep, I had an epiphany this morning while helping my 10 year old daughter with her hair.

 I’m channeling my inner Deep Thoughts….With Jack Handy!  Lord help us all!

**WARNING **

The following conversation is estrogen-rich.  Should you have male anatomy, you may find yourself vomiting or experiencing severe abdominal discomfort should you proceed past this point. It is possible that I may go off on some kind of tangent that you, with your testosterone, cannot compute without twisting the entire conversation around to think it is meant to directly target you!!  Wow, that was a sexist comment.  I apologize.  J

However, we are an equal opportunity blog.  You are welcome, even if you have boy parts.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you!

My daughter finally made it into the school Talent Show.  She is so excited, but she is nervous about singing in front of the big 5^th graders.  As we talked about techniques to overcome her nerves; things like looking over their heads, or focusing on one person in the audience, I found myself recalling my own fears when I was her age.  It was then that something fell out of my mouth that I never even realized until I said the words to her.

I explained to her how I completely understood her apprehension about singing in front of people.  She is singing a duet, which I told her was the closest I could ever come to a solo as a kid, because at least I had another person singing with me.  I always loved to sing, but I don’t think you could have medicated me enough to get me to EVER stand up in front of people and sing a solo!

She smiled up at me as I did her hair and said, “I think you’re just saying that to make me feel better, Mom.” She thought that because she knows the me that I am now.  Not the me that I was in school.  It’s taken me a long time, and a lot of realizations to get where I am.

  I really was such a self-conscious kid.  I’m not sure how I came across to anyone who actually knew me in school, but on the inside, I was constantly wondering what people thought of me. 

Junior High is hard enough for kids, but when all of my friends started getting ‘boyfriends’ (you know, how kids say they are ‘going out’, but they never go anywhere or even play together?) it became more obvious that I didn’t fit in.  Or at least, it didn’t feel like I did.  All of my friends had ‘boyfriends’ but me.  I wondered all of the time just what it was about me that separated me from the other girls?  It really hit me hard, not a single boy EVER wanted to be my boyfriend.  Certainly not the cool boys.  Not the nerdy boys.  Not even the scuzzy boys!  Nope, no boyfriends for me!

Even when I got into High School, I was pretty much friends with everyone.  I had my core group of friends, but I was friendly to everyone and everyone was friendly to me.  I did my best to be nice to even the kids that others may not have been so nice to.  But, still yet, it was like I was the only girl in school who never got asked out.  I was that girl that never had a date to a dance.  I swear, I felt like I was cursed or something!  What could possibly be so bad about me that no one ever asked me out?  Was it because I wasn’t ‘from’ that town?  Cuz, seriously, that’s kinda gross when you think about it.  If everyone there seems to be distantly related, you would think an ‘outsider’ would be a hot commodity, would you not?  LOL

Anyway, moral of the story is, not a single boy in that school EVER asked me out.  Not once.  None.  Zilch.  Zero.  Talk about making a girl self-conscious.  And it occurred to me when talking to my daughter that instead of thinking, ‘Screw em.  They don’t know what they are missing out on,’ I took it to heart and it really screwed me up.  Or, at least, I thought it did.

So, today, talking to my daughter, I realized something.  For years, I thought I was self conscious because the boys didn’t apparently like me.  What I learned, through talking to her, is that the boys were an issue, sure.  But what really had me screwed up was my relationship with my dad.  Little girls and their dads….it’s a really formative thing.  I know….DAMN, right?  Couldn’t it be something easier to control?

My dad was controlling and verbally abusive, except when people were around.  So, of course, when friends were over, they thought he was fabulous!  When they left, he was an A-hole.  Ugh.  So, I realized this morning that the turning point for me, when I finally became the me that my daughter now knows???? Yeah, that happened when I severed ties with the thing that held me back.  My dad.

I know the Bible says to Honor thy father and mother.  I have struggled with that, trust me.  But, once I broke those ties, I saw that I could be free.  I could be who I was meant to be, and slowly, I became more confident.  I found my sense of humor again, and now I am finally a person that I can be proud of.  It doesn’t mean I don’t still wonder secretly what people think of me.  It just means that I can finally say, “Well, if they don’t like me, then I guess I’m okay with that.  Because I am who I am, and that’s just where we are with that.”

Sure, all your life experiences build who you become as an adult.  But, sometimes, it’s those sneaky little suckers like whether or not your daddy makes you feel good about yourself that end up being the little parasite you carry around with you until you finally do a life cleanse and get rid of it!  Kinda like a laxative for your life! LOL

Get rid of the things that hold you back.  If there’s someone in your life that makes you feel like shit, drop em like those ‘skinny’ pants in the back of your closet that you hang on to just to punish yourself.  I mean, seriously, WTH do we do this to ourselves for? 

If we would all just tell that ‘person’, or ‘thing’…whoever or whatever it is….to SCREW OFF!  Wouldn’t we be a lot better off?  How many girls with weight issues have that one demon in their closet that they are too scared to deal with, so it just torments them?  How many? 

I’m not sure why we, as women, are wired this way.  Personally, I choose to blame all the things I cannot explain on Eve and that damned apple.  Some day, when I die, she and I are gonna have a real serious conversation about all the crap we go through because of her!  Painful child birth?  Check.  Periods?  Check.  She’s gonna get an ear full out of me someday. 

Seriously, though.  Find that thing that holds you back.  Then find a way to get rid of it.  It wasn’t easy cutting out an actual human being from my life.  But, I’ll tell ya, it set me free.  So free, in fact, that my own daughter couldn’t believe that I had once been a self-conscious kid who worried about what everyone thought of me. 

So….TO HELL WITH EM, I SAY!  Make the change.  Pull the trigger.

 In the words of Tim McGraw,  “I’m learning who you’ve been, ain’t who you’ve got to be.”

PS:  I saw some of those 'boys' from High School recently.  Most of them have not aged well.  Turns out, I wasn't missing anything after all!  SCOOOOORE!!!!!

Hooker Faces (You know who you are!)

So.  I've been thinking A a lot lately about friends, and their importance to my sanity.

There's nothin like having a critically-ill child to separate the weak ones in the herd, let me just tell you.  I lost friends, got disappointed in friends, and, thankfully, kept a few too.

For years after Ty's death, I found myself having lots of sorta-kinda friends, and just a couple good friends.  Life kept going, we all had kids, things got busy, and a lot of us lost touch.  Oh, and how could I forget, there are those friends that you have BEFORE you have kids, and then when you both have kids, you realize how shitty of a parent they are, and you can't stand to be around THEIR kids.....

Yeah, sign me up for a couple of those, too!  OMG....

Anyway, I digress.  My point is, when you lose your core group of friends, you realize how vulnerable you are.  Then, somehow, time keeps on going, and you find yourself in this wierd situation.  It's almost like being single and not knowing where to search for a mate.  I mean, you don't wanna pick up friends at the bar (lol).  You can't score a friend at the produce section at the grocery store, and I'm pretty sure Craigslist and the Classified section in the paper would only be an invitation for rapists.

So, what does a girl do to make friends when she is all grown up with a busy life, kids and work? 

SHE JOINS ZUMBA, THAT'S WHAT SHE DOES!!!!

After months of persuasion from my friend, Tracy, I nervously joined her for a Zumba class.  I was so nervous I almost backed out as I pulled into the parking lot. O-M-G, what was I getting myself into? 
So, first class taught me a couple of things. 
1.  I apparently pee when I jump.  TMI, I know, but there is a whole lot of jostling that takes place in Zumba, and I feel I owe it to you to warn you!

2.  I am even whiter than I had once suspected.  These girls moved parts of their bodies I could not even identify, much less twirl and swirl the way they did! 

3.  No one was watching me.  Even though I felt like an absolute idiot trying to keep up with these chicks, they didn't judge me a bit.  Truth be told, they were probably just trying not to stumble to their own death with some of the maneuvers they were doing...but either way, they were so totally accepting!

I told myself I would keep going because I saw a side of Tracy I seldom saw.  She was free there.  She hooted and hollered in class.  She laughed and had a great time, even when she looked a little crazy.  I saw the freedom in her, and I wanted it!!!

It didn't take me long to start talking to some of the other girls in the class.  Every shape and size, every ethnicity...we were united when we shook our booties to the latest songs on the radio.

I'll never forget the first time a GUY came into class!  OMG, who was this invader of the estrogen zone?  Didn't he know we were in our safe place????  The nerve of this guy!
I watched him in the mirrors at the front of class, watching his face as he bumped and grinded with all of us to some crazy songs.  I thought to myself, "Surely this dude is single and here to pick up chicks."  Smart move, really.

Little did I know, he was the husband of one of the girls in class.  Later, we became friends. 

I couldn't have predicted the friendships that would form over boob sweat, sweaty butt cracks and the thing that binds us all, the desire to better ourselves.  Oh, and after-class margaritas don't hurt the situation, either!

I wound up with the best group of girlies I could have ever hoped for.  We are all shapes and sizes, and we range in age from 20 something to 40 something.  Somehow, we all seem to have a bond that I can't even describe.  We can call each other Hooker Face, and take it as a term of endearment.  We don't compete with one another, we don't judge one another.  It's like Grown Up High School, only without all the bitchy snobby girls who stare when you walk by! 

So, if you are looking for a way to improve yourself, try Zumba!  Personally, it changed more than my outer body. It changed my inner body, too.  :)

I heart you, ZUMBA HOOKER FACES!!!!!

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

HOLY MOLY

This, my friends, is the gift that keeps on giving. 
For the first twenty followers of my blog, I will be giving said gift, to be worn at your own discretion!
I mean, come on, think of the possibilities...
School Pick Up Line
Casual Fridays at the Office
Speed Dating Must Have
Match.com Profile Pic
Date Night with the Hubby
Late Night Walmart Run
Stocking Stuffers
Secret Santa

Don't act like you don't want em.  I know you do.  And you could ROCK IT!!!!
I mean, dress em up with a hot pair of heels.  Play it down with flip flops.  No matter how you slice it, you're gonna be HOT!

Okay, okay.  So, I don't REALLY have twenty pair of these in stock.  I mean, I did.  But, I kept wearing them out, and people loved them so much that I kept having to take them off and give them out to strangers.  There were tears shed, people were embarassing me by crying and begging in the middle of the mall for my pants.  I went right thru my secret stash of nude stretchie pants in no time, and now I am down to my last pair.

Damn, right?

Have a Seat, Grab a Cup of Coffee

WELCOME to the first installment of a little blog I like to call "Oh No She Di-Ent!"

WOOOOOT, WOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!

Let's start by getting to know each other, shall we? 
I'm a 35 year old mother of 3.  I am a good Christian girl who finds herself plagued by a smart ass sense of humor that sometimes catches people off guard.  

HEY, GUESS WHAT??  CHRISTIANS CAN BE FUNNY, TOO!!!!

So, what the heck am I doing here in blog-land?  Well, it's a funny story.  Last night, I was at a funeral.  (No, seriously....)  I got the chance to see a lot of people I hadn't seen since High School, and found myself in an ironic conversation with two girls I happen to be friends with on Facebook, but had not seen in person for years.

It was sort of comical how it all worked out, and one of the girls mentioned to me, "You know, you need to start a blog.  Your posts on Facebook crack me up!"

Well, that was all it took.  Here I am. 

So, I'll start by giving you a brief run-down of me, where I stand, and what to expect:

-God is my BFF
(Brief Disclaimer:  Though God is my BFF, I have a sometimes wicked sense of humor.  Thoughts and statements made within this blog may be offensive to some.  If you fall into that category, I apologize.  Wait, no I don't.  I am who I am.  Either put on your big girl panties and laugh along with me, or don't read it.  I promise I will do my best to keep you entertained, but if you have your pissy pants on and can't laugh with me, go read the obituaries.)

-I enjoy people watching
Yep.  You guessed it.  Sometimes this blog may be painfully similar to a People of Walmart photo album.  I can't deny it.  Stay tuned. 

-I've earned the right to be who I am
Without invoking what appears to be a pity party, I think you deserve to know how I got to be the person that I am.
My whole life changed when I was 24.  I gave birth to my first child, who was born with Down Syndrome and severe heart defects.  He died when he was 3 1/2 months old.  Having him changed my life, stole my youth and made me the person that I am today.  I found God through that experience, and also the ability to laugh whenever possible.  I refuse to forget where I have been, because it keeps me thankful for where I am now. 
It took me a while to get back to the person I had been.  I struggled with finding 'me' again.  But what I got through that struggle was a new and improved version of me.  Everybody has experiences in life that bring them to their knees.  What matters most is how we choose to react...


So, I guess that wraps it up.  Buckle up.  Get comfy.  Grab a cup of coffee.  Let's hang out, gossip and giggle.  Without laughter, life is just a big ole pile of BS some days.