Who I Am

I have....

An amazing husband who is as good looking as he is kind and two gorgeous boys

(told ya)

A house that is a home

A great counselor

Debt

A very lovable 105 lb lap dog

Two reliable cars

Bills

Taken control of my health and wellness

Incredible girlfriends

Baggage

A relationship with God

The gift of a voice

The opportunity to stay home full-time

Laundry.  Lots of laundry

Self-confidence

No filter

A ton of appointments each week

I want...

My mom

Another dog

Granite counter tops

Wood floors

A clean house

Landscaping in the backyard

A new car

An Ipad

New clothes

A week-long vacation with my husband

To lose 10 more lbs

To sing professionally

A weekly massage

A large flat-screen TV in the living room

To be debt free

A closer relationship with God

More time with my girlfriends

More energy

More hours in the day

A personal shopper

Does anyone else see the random nature of these two lists?  

Today has not gotten off to a great start.  I'm not going to lie.  I considered opening a bottle of wine before I'd even had my coffee.  I was rear-ended while backing out of my parking spot after preschool drop-off.  I was creeeeeeeping out of my spot because there was a big ass SUV parked next to me and I couldn't really see around it.  I wasn't half-way out of my spot when WHAMMO!  Black mini-van slammed into me.  It's freaking birthday/Christmas/HOA dues time and a $500 deductible is not in the budget.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I'm ok.  My bumper will have to be repaired for the second time in two months, but nobody was hurt.  Not even the little darling who was nearly crawling up on my wrecked bumper saying "Ooooh, Mommy!  She has a Texas A&M shiny thingy on her car!  Look!  It's so shiny!"  Move, you little shit!  This parking lot is a danger zone and you are clearly not in the safest proximity of my bumper.

I digress....

WARNING!!!  WHINING AHEAD!!  FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!!

Can I just tell you that this was NOT on my list of things to deal with today?  It's Clay's birthday and I have 6062 things to do before he gets home.  Dealing with insurance on an issue that will most likely be labeled my fault (even though it so effing was NOT my fault) was not on that list of things to do.  I have a house to clean and I have cupcakes to frost!  

All I really want to do is sit on my ass and drink wine.  I can take care of myself, eat right, exercise and maintain everyones' schedules OR I can be financially responsible, run the house, do the shopping and cooking and keep up with the laundry and cleaning.  I can't do both.  You're going to have to pick one.  Problem here is that I NEED TO DO BOTH!  

I am 37 years old.  I have a college degree. 

I NEED to be a better steward of finances.  I'm quite sure that Dave Ramsey would revoke my Financial Peace University diploma if he could.  I've taken the course.  I know what to do.  I know all about the asshat envelopes.  I hear the people call in on Fridays to scream "We're debt free!!!"  I so want to be one of those people.  I know what I have to do to get there.  The problem?  I don't want to eat rice and beans!  (Those things are NOT on the Paleo Diet, people.)  I tried canceling our cable.  I'd like Dave to come on over and listen to Clay flip his shit when he can't watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  I once heard Dave tell the mother of a child with severe Autism that maybe she should cut back on some of his therapies to save some money.  And this right here is where Dave and I part ways.  I'm gonna tell you right now that Autism is NOT cheap. I am thankful for good insurance, even if I do have to call those bastards weekly because they haven't paid a claim they should pay.  But even with insurance, we pay enough to buy me lots of granite counter tops, TVs, and have a full-time housekeeper.  I wouldn't do it any differently, though.

Yes, I am a stay-at-home mom.  Problem is, I haven't quite figured out when the stay-at-home part happens.  I had a housekeeper for a while (I put her on hold until after the holidays after the incident in the parking lot today) and someone said, "Wait, why do you have one if you stay at home full-time?"  Please excuse me while I put my foot through your teeth.

I want to know how "those women" do it all.  You know who you are.  You show up at preschool drop-off looking like a Nike ad in your workout gear and then show up at pick-up in your cute outfit with your perfect hair and make-up.  How do you make gourmet meals in your large granite-laden kitchen 6 nights a week from organic foods that you raised in your perfectly landscaped backyard?  How do you find the time and money to pay for your gym membership, chiropractor, massage therapist, housekeeper, and ginormous fully-loaded SUV and serve on three committees at church, volunteer as room mom for 3 of your 4 kids, do all sorts of DIY stuff you found on Pinterest and have an immaculate house?  I'll admit it, I'm jealous.  I'm also convinced that you have some pile of shit you're standing in that none of us knows anything about.  

We are not perfect.  We are not machines.  We are human.  God created us in His image to be flawed and imperfect so that we would recognize His perfection and the grace that He pours out daily.  Let me tell you how much grace I'm swimming in over here.

When I asked Luke what he wanted for Christmas, he said he wanted a Wii-U.  When I told him he was out of his effing mind on that one (paraphrasing here), he said, "Oh, I figured, but it never hurts to ask.  I'd really just like to have a Rainbow Loom, some Legos and some pajama pants.  That's all I really need.  I don't need stuff.  I have you guys."  Later, I asked him what he wanted to give his teachers for Christmas.  He said, "Could we donate to a charity in their honor?" I'll pause now while some of you get a tissue and wipe your eyes and the rest of you pick your jaw up off the floor.  Clay is 5 years old today.  He has friends.  He sang "Jesus Loves Me" all the way to school today.  This is the child that I never knew if he was going to be able to talk and function in a neurotypical environment.  

  I'm vain.  I'm selfish.  I'm impulsive.  I'm needy.  I'm wanty.  

But...

I am a child of God.  I am a mother.  I am a wife.  I am an athlete.  I am a writer.  

I have everything I need and some of the things I want.

I'm doing the important things right.  I'll work on the things I need to do better.  

For now, I'll thank God for His grace and forgiveness...and for creating me to be exactly who I am.

The title bar of my blog describes me perfectly.

It's the moooooost wonderful tiiiiime of the yeeeeaaar!!!!

 Sing it with me, kids!!

Hello my loyal followers!  I hope the 12 of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving and are as happy as I am that the "moooooost wonderful tiiiiime of the yeeeeaaar" is upon us.  (Ok, I'll knock it off.  Maybe)

Just to update you on a few things:

 It takes 7 hours to lovingly wrap each branch of the unlit 9 ft tree.  I did this without wine.  It wasn't fun, but it looked nice when it was done and I knew that my work would not be in vain.  I even took the time to tape the outlets together that wouldn't need to be unplugged when I disassembled the tree.  I tied green ribbons on the outlets that were at the end of the line for that particular section of the tree.  I thought of everything, y'all!!!!  The tree stood in it's place for 2 weeks, anxiously awaiting decorations that would come AFTER we ate the bird and gave thanks.

  My 30 day yeast detox (that still just sounds gross) came to an end and I was glad to be able to have bananas and wine again.  Not together.  That's gross.  But I really missed my bananas.  Dare I say I missed them more than I missed my wine?  It was a good time to focus on the things that make my body wonky.  I learned that oranges give me migraines.  This really irked me because I love Cuties!  Those little bastards landed me in bed for two days.  Not so cute, you little orbs of pain.  I've decided that I'll adopt the Paleo lifestyle.  I know I sound like an infomercial, but it really does make me feel like a completely different person and if you order now, you'll get three Shake-weights and a Wax-Vac at no additional charge.

I am training for a marathon, and I had my longest run to date!  I ran a 25K race (that's 15.5 miles for those who don't have the conversion calculator in front of you) with some friends.  I loved it, except for the fact that I froze my ass off.  This pretty much confirmed that I need winter running clothes.  It took 4 hours and boiling myself in the shower before I could get warm.  It was fun, though!

Here I am with my friend Wendy.  

I really like the expressions on our faces.  

We look like we could shank someone.

  Thanksgiving was wonderful, as always.  My sister-in-law and I grew up together, and I have her to thank for my amazingly hot husband.  I met him when I sang in her wedding and we are now married to brothers.  It's really fun!  We decided 10 years ago that we would always spend Thanksgiving together.  We cook, we eat, we laugh, we play Nerts, and we eat some more.  We split the cooking duties amongst her, her mom, and me.  My contributions were cranberry brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, wine (duh), and....get this....Chocolate Chip Cookie Pecan Pie Bars.  It's like a marriage of my two most favorite things.  Throw some bread pudding in there and I might just moan from the pleasure, but that's for a different kind of blog, y'all.  Anyway, I knew this would be amazeballs and I couldn't wait to make it!  It was gonna be glorious.  The angels were gonna sing.  Guess what?  It was the opposite of amazeballs.  Definitely not glorious.  The angels all had laryngitis.  Pinterest can kiss my arse.  The edges were burned and the middle was runny goo.  It was delicious runny goo, but runny nonetheless.  

So, I did what any self-respecting cook would do.  I scooped out some goo, put it on top of vanilla ice cream and threw away the pan.  I had to throw the pan in the trash because the foil liner was permanently baked into the pan.   

 

Remember that I'd been on the no-sugar thing for 30 days?  This was my first taste of sugar.  It also confirmed why I am a Paleo diet convert.  I was ill, y'all.  But it was worth it.  Good thing Meg and crew stopped at Cracker Barrel on their way to town.  They had a perfectly cooked Chocolate Chip Pecan Pie.  Thanksgiving was saved!!!!

Traditional Iron Chef aprons from the first Iron Chef Thanksgiving.  

Now, we don't still live in Midland and Denton, but does Iron Chef Italy live in Italy?  

No, he doesn't.

 

We gave our thanks a day early to allow Meg and crew ample time to get back to Dallas.  She's a nurse at Children's Medical Center and had to go make lives better for kidlets on Friday.  Thursday morning we got up at the crack of dawn to dash with the Turkeys.  I'm honored to be asked to sing the National Anthem at this annual event. I was even more honored to be able to actually run it this year!  

WOO HOO!!!

Finally, the day was here!  I could decorate my new tree and glitter the shit out of my house.  I plugged in the 9 ft tree that I'd so lovingly spent 7 hours lighting two weeks prior expecting to be blinded by the 1400 lights.  I was less than blinded.  The damn thing was dark as night!  ARE YOU KIDDING?  I felt like Clark Griswold when the lights on his house didn't work.  I cussed, I cried, and I may have done the worm.  I don't remember.  I was in complete disbelief and shock.  I called my bff, Erin.  She said, "Didn't you buy new lights and check them all?" It's a good thing she wasn't in front of me because I might have hurt her.  But, like any good bff, she talked me down and coached me through this difficult life moment.  The moral of the story?  It takes 7 hours to lovingly wrap each branch.  It takes 4 hours to untape the plugs, unwrap each branch, throw away the burned out strands and relight.  Know what?  It was worth it.

In the words of my sweet Papaw,

"I have worked hard!  I have earned this!"

On a personal note, December 2 is my anniversary.  

Hard to believe 13 years have flown by, but I'm looking forward to 130 more! 

 Love you, babe!

Oh, and one last thing....

 Words With Friends is WRONG!

It's happening, and I can't stop it.

I love Christmas.   I love being together as a family.  I love the Biblical message and the true reason for celebrating.  I love singing Christmas music with my choir and singing "O Holy Night" on Christmas Eve.  I love seeing the looks on my children's faces as they see what the fat man brought them.  I love to glitter the shit out of my mantle, banister, and tree.  Oh, and presents.  I love them.  What I don't love?  Skipping October and November.

I understand the retailers trying to capitalize on the crazy people who finish their Christmas shopping in July, so they quickly shove the patriotic garb out of the way in order to make room for the giant inflatable Darth Vader in a santa hat holding a light saber that is actually a snow globe.  I understand that it's easier to budget and spread out the purchases over a few months.  I understand that networks sell advertising space to fill our commercial breaks with news of sales and that the Lexus looks more appealing with the big red bow.  I understand that every kiss begins with K and Santa buys crap for Mrs. Clause at his local mall jeweler.  I understand that elaborate plans must be written so that your creepy elf can turn the milk green, make a snow angel in the kitty litter and zipline across the living room when he makes his grand entrance.

But I beg of you, for the love of dressing and gravy, WAIT UNTIL AFTER WE EAT THE BIRD!!!

It happened yesterday, November 14.  I saw a beautiful, shiny, blue BMW with antlers and a red nose. Seriously?  The guy around the corner has his lights on his house, fake snow sprayed on his windows, and I'm sure a pot of wassail bubbling away on the stove.  Don't get me wrong.  I've been known to have my decorations up for Thanksgiving only because we would celebrate Christmas the next day with our out of town family.  In fact, I purchased a new 9ft tree on sale yesterday and I am going to actually string the lights myself because I'm a cheap ass and I'm going to start tomorrow because I have no idea how long it will actually take for me to lovingly wrap each branch with white lights.  (How's that for a run-on?)  But that's where decking my halls will stop until after we sit around the table with people we love to eat a dead bird and some delicious carb-laden side dishes.  And pie.  I refuse to give thanks in a hurry and skip thirds so that I can go out and practice my ninja-like martial arts skills to get a special deal on a Furby at a Black Friday sale that starts at midnight on Thanksgiving Day.  There is no sale worth that, in my opinion.  "But you can find such great deals!!"  Yeah, you know what else I can find?  My bed.  I guess if I had no children and the ability to sleep all day the next day, or I suddenly took on a diet of 5 hr energy, coffee and No-Doze I might consider it.  Since that ain't happening, I'll just pay an extra $3 for my Furby.

Stay tuned for my next post about why it's better for everyone if you just pony up the cash and buy the pre-lit tree.

It's not an STD, nor is it a country in North America

I may have mentioned in a previous post that fall allergies kick my ass.  They always bring the unwanted sinus infection, so I am no stranger to antibiotics, and I take antihistamines 365 days a year.  This fall allergy season, however, has brought on a whole new experience for me.  

I started my first antibiotic right around Labor Day weekend.  Apparently my sinuses are assholes.  As of Sunday, I was on day 8 of a 20 day cycle for my 4th antibiotic.  Yeah.  Good times.  The sinus infection of all sinus infections.  I've taken a Z-pack, Cefdinir, Levaquin and Clindamycin.  These last two are the bullies on the playground, but they were no match for the assholes.  What this team of bullies did do was make me feel like I had the flu, chronic fatigue, and mono all at the same time.  Oh, and did I mention I still had the infection?  Yeah.  My allergist, though very smart, was just not making the right calls.  I decided to divorce him.  

I believe in the benefits of chiropractic care and as I was sharing my struggle with the assholes she said, "I can walk you across the hall if you want to see one of our allergists."  God bless her.  (She shares a practice with a general practitioner and an allergist.)  Paulina, the allergy PA says, "No more antibiotics.  They aren't working.  We will do allergy testing next week and I will do a food panel as well because I'm sure that there are some food issues that are adding to your problem.  It's time for a new approach."  YES!  I love you, Paulina!  Until I don't.....

Paulina says that this infection is fungal.  Yes, boys and girls, there's a fungus among us.  She says that I'm most likely over-run with yeast.  The yeast is a bi-product of all the antibiotics, but also a likely culprit for the snot factory.  Sexy, right?  "Yes, you definitely have allergies, and we need to address those, but the Candida overgrowth is a bigger problem."  Excuse me?  The what?  I do not have an STD and to my knowledge I don't go to Calgary until December.

Candida (yeast), apparently, is the real asshole.  (Sorry sinuses.  I didn't mean what I said.  Forgive me.)  How do I get rid of it?  Continue taking pro-biotics, take an arsenal of anti-yeast medications and go on a 30 day Candida protocol diet.  Um, ok.  I'll do whatever I need to do to feel better, but what the heck is a Candida protocol diet?  Basically it means no sugar, grains, wheat, carbs, dairy or fermented beverages for 30 days.  

Does anyone else notice that there is no wine on here?  

Yesterday sucked.  I'm not gonna lie.  You know that song, "How Do I Live Without You?"  It was on the "Con Air" soundtrack, recorded by Tricia Yearwood and also by LeAnn Rimes, and it caused all kinds of controversy at the Grammy Awards because LeAnn performed it but Tricia rightfully won the Grammy.  Yeah,  I'm pretty sure that was written about my relationship with carbs.  I went through a moment of panic as I was trying to figure out how to live without them for the next 30 days, but I'm a big girl.  I can do this.  I spent a small fortune on produce at HEB and really wanted to explain myself to the pharmacist when I picked up a 40-day supply of anti-fungal medications.  "Dude, do not direct me to the Monistat.  It's not that kind of yeast problem."  Having said that, wouldn't it be easier to just cram some of that stuff up my nose?  Yeah, probably not.  That wouldn't target the chronic fatigue, joint pain, lethargy, and headaches.  But it sure did sound like a viable option at first.

So, what's the good news?  First, I'm likely to drop 10-20 lbs this month.  Second, I finish this protocol two days before the most carbalicious, sugary, yeasty holiday celebration of all...Thanksgiving.

Bring on the pie, bitches!

S.H.I.T. (Sure happy it's Thursday)

This post's title sums it up.  This week has sucked.  Really.  In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it's not all that terrible, but for me it has sucked.  I started with a washing machine leaking water last Friday.  Repair person came Saturday and it worked just fine. (Of course it did.)  Biggest little dude and I have been out for the count all week due to that bitch, Mother Nature, and her raping trees (see the ABC's of Fall).  I couldn't even go do my most favorite thing in the world at Wednesday night choir practice because I'd sound like everyone would be afraid of my sudden case of tuberculosis.  Then came today.  Today was going to be good.  I looked cute.  My kids were happy.  Did I mention I looked cute?  I did.  Anyway, my youngest had his annual appointment at the Autism Center at Texas Children's  downtown, so we left as soon as we dropped big brother off at school.  Not 4 miles into my journey, I got rear ended!  I can't make this shit up, people.  Not only did I get rear ended, but I spilled coffee EVERYWHERE.  It's on the headliner, on my kid's car seat, on the windshield, in the trunk, all over the engine...What? It could happen!  Maybe I got carried away.  Who cares?!  Focus, people!!!  My heart's one true happiness at 8:30 a.m. was wasted.  But back to the real issue.  I was rear ended.  By the nicest, most terrified 16 year old ever.  I couldn't even be mean.  He was so nervous.  So shaken.  He and 4 of his buddies were on their way to volunteer with the PALS program.  Yes, boys and girls.  They were on their way to a local elementary school.  I asked him if he had called his parents and all he could say was, "I haven't called anyone.  I've never done this before.  I don't know what to do."  Bless. Your. Heart.  "Give me your insurance card and call your mom or dad."  "Yes ma'am."  At this point I should have drop kicked him right in the family jewels, but I didn't.  I'm a nice middle-aged woman who gets called ma'am.  When I called his mom later in the day to check on him she said he was so upset not only because of the accident, but because he hit a fellow Aggie who loved running.  It took me a second to recall what running lover he was talking about.  Oh!  That's ME!

Nobody is hurt.  No body lost anything valuable or irreplaceable.  But, JEEZ! WHY THE MA'AM!  I used to say, "You have to be at least 35 to be a ma'am."  Shit.  I'm 37.  Fueling obesity would be so much cheaper.  I could just buy a half gallon of Blue Bell, a can of frosting and some Cheese Whiz and call it a day, but no. I'm pissed that I'm sick.  I'm pissed that my kid is sick.  I'm pissed that I got rear ended.  And I'm really pissed that I don't sleep well because my bed sucks.  My new bed is being delivered tonight.  I'm all about solving problems, kids.  

"Be the change you want to see in the world."  Ghandi was a freakin' genius.  Know what I want to see in my world?  A well-rested Amy.  Namaste, y'all.

And if the cable that has been out for 2 days doesn't start working before football games start on Saturday, I will lose it.

The ABC's of Fall

Most people think of fall as the time when the weather gets cooler, the leaves start turning, the football games are on tv, families are outdoors day and night, pumpkin spiced shit everywhere, and Christmas takes over Hobby Lobby before Labor Day.  This is true for us, but it's also the time when I enter the seventh circle of hell.  I am horribly allergic to fall.  I love fall, but right about now it can kiss my ass.

My littlest guy is in pre-school and I enjoy seeing him come home with all of his new "letter of the week" stuff.  So much so, I was inspired to write this, today.

Amusing Amy's Autumn ABC's
(sue me for loving alliteration)
A- Antihistamines. I take 3 per day year-round.
B- Blow your nose...all damn day
C- Crying.  Lots of crying.
D- Doctors Offices.  Some of the most disgusting people hang out in these places.
E- Eating.  Chicken noodle soup sounds like a great idea, but I'm freakin' starving again in 5 minutes. (See  F and S)
F- Food.  I need lots of food.  An all-you-can-eat buffet would be great. (See E and S)
G- Go Away!  Leave me alone to wallow in my misery! (See Q)
H- Hacking cough.  It's sexy.  Just ask my husband.
I- Incontinence.  Don't judge me.  You have three major abdominal surgeries and keep from wetting your pants when you sneeze 73 times in a row
J- Jackasses.  They come out in the fall.  They ask you stupid questions like, "Did you lose your voice?" or "Are your allergies bothering you?"
K- Kisses.  Mine have healing powers (See M)
L- Laundry.  So. Much. Laundry.  (See I)
M-  Mommy.  I really wish I had mine (See K)
N- Neti-pot.  It was a near-drowning experience, but I've grown to appreciate sinus rinses and have stepped it up a notch to saline in a jet-force spray
O- Outside.  It's just rude!  It looks so beautiful and inviting, but it's a death trap.
P- Puffs Plus with Lotion.  I should just know to buy it in bulk. (See T)
Q- Quiet!  Why is everyone so damn loud?  My ears hurt!  Stop it! (See G)
R-  Rain.  Rain would save me, but no.  Mother Nature can kiss my ass.  (see O)
S-  Steroids.  I'll let you know when I'm done eating my porterhouse and you can watch me bench-press my neighbor's SUV. (See E and F)
T- Tampons.  If I had any, I'd consider sticking them up my nose. (See P)
U-  Upper Respiratory Infection.  At least it's not bronchitis.  Ain't nobody got time for that.
V- Voice.  If you see mine, please let me know.  Oh, and tell it I'll see it in November.  Thanks
W- Weeds.  Especially Ragweed.  Why in the hell does this satanic fairy dust have to exist?
X- X-rays.  Do you know how many x-rays my kid and I have had of our sinuses?
Y- Yoga Pants.  They've never been to yoga.  Don't tell.

Z- Zyrtec.  God bless it.

More Ranting for Tuesday

Maybe it was my therapeutic brain dump yesterday.  Maybe it was being awake all night coughing up a lung.  Maybe I just have a lot more that I need to get off my chest.  I just know that I am still very cranky and need to share a few more things that really piss me off.

1)  Superfluous safety seals.  Ok, Proctor and Gamble.  We get it.  You want people to have untainted meds.  (Hahahaha.  I said "taint".  Sorry.  I'm really a 15 year old boy trapped in a 37 year old woman's body).  But, is it really necessary to put a safety seal on the box, a safety seal on the cap, and then a foil safety seal on the bottle that requires a bayonet?  I swear I'll drop dead from whatever is ailing me before I get to the damn remedy.

2)  Doctors that make you wait longer than 30 minutes for your scheduled appointment and have multiple postings that if you are more than 30 minutes late for your appointment, you will be charged.

3)  When the guy in the drive-thru asks if you want any ketchup and you say yes and he gives you just one packet.  Wow.  So generous.  That'll be good for one of my fries.  Have a nice day, asshat.

4)  When your husband/kid/dog/yardman wakes you up 10 minutes before the alarm goes off.  I swear I wake up thinking I'm gonna cut a bitch.  Not a good way to start the day.

5)  Parents who start lining up in carpool at 2:00 for a 3:40 dismissal.  Did I miss something?  Is there a medal given for the person who picks their kid up first?

6)  When you feel like complete shit and plan to spend the day on the couch cuddling a box of Puffs with Lotion, but your kid wakes up sick, too.  Moms don't get a day off.  Don't misunderstand me.  I love my job and I love my children, but there are no sick days when you're the Mama.

7)  When said sick child won't shut the hell up and just let you wither away in silence.

8)  Chocolate chip cookies that turn out to have raisins instead of chocolate chips.  That's just rude!

9)  When people are on a special diet and feel the need to talk about it non-stop.  I get it.  You're committed.  I've been on Weight Watchers for over a year.  I don't feel the need to talk to anyone and everyone about it at the drop of a hat.  Just shut up, eat your lettuce, and be sad.

10)  People that honk at you the nanosecond the light turns green.  Simmer down!  This isn't the Indy 500, you jackass!  

I told you I was still cranky.

Monday's Rant

 I feel the need to warn you, my loyal readers (all 12 of you). 

 I'm cranky today.

I woke up with zero voice thanks to Ragweed, mold, and post-nasal drip.  I needed to call my allergist with my new insurance card information because when I was there week before last, our cards weren't in.  I thought I'd spare them my squeaking and just drop by.  I walk up to the lady at the reception desk, squeaked as loudly as I could that I was there with my new insurance information.  She said, "Oh my, did you lose your voice?"  No, Dr. Oz.  Your diagnosis is wrong.  I enjoy speaking this way.  I explain why I'm there and she says, "So you don't have an appointment today?"  WHY IS THIS SO HARD?  Just take my information and let me leave!  The nurse sees me and says, "Oh, do you want an appointment today?"  I explain I was just there, I have more drugs in my system than Keith Richards on a bender, and if they're concerned enough, maybe they could ask the doc if I can just have more steroids.  Oh, no.  She's going to ask him when she gets in.  Given that I can't talk, I suggest she send me a text message.  Well, an hour later she calls me and says that the doc DOES want to see me and perhaps my current arsenal of allergy medication isn't sufficient (Ya think?) and when would I like to come in?  The lady then begins to get irritated that she can't hear me.  Seriously?  Bottom line, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.

After that pleasant encounter I had to head over to get a new battery for my car, Tammy Tsu.  The dude at the counter says, "Hey, you lost your voice?"  I resist the urge to punch him in the throat and tell him I need a new battery.  It'll be 30 minutes.  Great!  Until it wasn't.  People, if you find yourself in a waiting room and need to engage in angry texting, please turn the sound off.  The incessant clicking will piss a girl right off.  Apparently I'm not the only one.  Four other people got up to get away from this lady.  The only thing that would have made it worse would have been if she'd sat there and had a full-on conversation in the quiet waiting room.  Phone etiquette, people.  Use it.

This got me thinking about other things that really get under my skin.  I find that sharing the burden of irritation has become a great coping mechanism.  It's your lucky day!!!  You all know I have strong opinions regarding correct grammar, but here are 10 more of life's vexations that fuel a long, drawn-out blog post.

1)  Crooked Christmas lights.  For the love of Griswold, if you're going to spend the time decking your outdoor halls, take the time to do it correctly!
2)  When people whistle through their noses.  Get a tissue!
3)  Carnations and star-gazer lilies.  I hate them.  I really do.  I'm sorry if they're your favorite flower, and I know that God created all things in His image, but when I get to heaven I'm going to ask him what he was thinking with these two flowers.  Actually, no.  I'm not going to ask God.  I'm going to ask the florists of the world why in the hell they had to ruin these two flowers for the rest of us by making them the most popular flower in funeral floral arrangements.
4)  People that want to sweep under my table/chair in a restaurant while I'm eating.
5)  Entire families trick-or-treating and expecting candy. Moms, dads, grandmas, aunts and uncles can just step aside.  Only people under 5 ft tall are getting candy.
6)  Crocs.  They're just ugly.
7)  People who feel the need to discuss their bodily functions with complete strangers.  I really don't care about your colon health and I would appreciate it if you kept your opinions of my colon to yourself.
8)  People who complain about their weight and then go to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
9)  When the radio station isn't quite clear and there's that little static, but nobody changes the station.
10)  When people say, "Wow, you really post too much on Facebook."  Um, excuse me, but since when are you the Facebook police?  I love Facebook!  I am the first person to admit my obsession with it. I won't switch to Twitter because I'm not a tweeter with a twat or whatever.  I LOVE FACEBOOK!  If you don't like it, then block me.  There are worse transgressions in life.

Adventures in Autism

This post will be one of my few almost serious posts.  I promise not to do it too often.  I have a reputation to maintain.

My 4 year old has Autism.  I've known he was different since birth, and the "A" word was used for the first time when he was 15 months old.   I truly believe that early, intense intervention has made a HUGE difference for not only his future, but ours.  Is everyday a walk in the park?  Hell no!  Do I drink more coffee and wine than the FDA recommends?  You bet!  Is there something to laugh about every day?  Absofreakinglutely!  You have to keep a sense of humor or you just won't make it!

Here area  few memories that make us smile a bunch around here....

1) I think all boys are fascinated with their man parts, but when Clay discovered his it was like a whole new world had just been unlocked.  He could not keep his hands off of his junk. We were waiting in the therapist's office and I said, "Do you need to go potty?"  He ignored me, and kept right on playing.  "Clay, do you need to go potty?"  Again...nothing.  "Clay?  Mommy is talking to you."  Very agitated he looked at me and said, "I don't need to potty!  I just want to touch my penis!!"  Alrighty then.  The good news (?) is that one of my nephews did the same thing and he's neurotypical.

2)  Clay can imitate anything.  We call him our little Rainman.  He knows all the words (at least how he hears them) to the Red Hot Chili Peppers songs "Snow" and "Under the Bridge" and "These Days" by Foo Fighters.  He listens to them on repeat and sing along....especially in the grocery store.  He will take my phone, find the songs and play them on full volume.  I've tried to turn it down and he just gets mad.  The best is when I was complimented on what must be excellent parenting as evident by my child's choice in music.

3)  This last one happened today.  Clay was the "Ambassador" in class today, which means he was the line leader, lead calendar/weather during circle time, and was the teacher's first helper.  As a reward, he got to choose a prize from the treasure chest.  He chose some new teeth.

Isn't he handsome?

It's a rarity that I have him alone on a weekday, so I asked if he wanted to go to lunch at Freebirds.  He loves Freebirds and the staff is always so genuine and helpful.  They might bar the door the next time they see us coming, though.  Those teeth ended up being launched over the glass into the corn salsa.  

Here's the thing, people.  You can cry or you can laugh.  Lord knows I shed enough tears, and I'm grateful for those moments when I can throw my head back and laugh with my little dude.  Even if he does need some dental work.

I'm still trying to understand why people were staring at us.....

Aaaaaand We're Back

Well, the first week of school for my 3rd grader went off without a hitch!  As reluctant as he was to pose for pictures and give me kisses (nothing new there), he had a great first day.  Reminded me of his first day at preschool when I picked him up and he said, "Mom, I had a great day!  I made good choices!  Wait, did you leave?  All day?  YOU JUST LEFT ME HERE??!!"  He was a funny little dude.  Every parent and teacher knows that the first week of school brings the back to school germs.  My house turned into a breeding ground for viral plague this weekend.  My poor little 4 year old started preschool today and his reward was a trip to the doctor.  Upper respiratory and ear infections?  Ain't nobody got time for that!!  At least it isn't bronchitis.  Whew.

When my oldest started kinder we had a huge first day celebration with posters, balloons, streamers, and the works.  It was a par-tay!  I thought I had done something amazeballs.  And then came Pinterest.  These people make ME look like the kindergartner.  I do manage to make a special breakfast and dinner for the first day, but some people just have way too much time and energy on their hands.  Either that, or they're on drugs.  I haven't figured out which.  While I was waiting for preschool pick-up, I came across this link, and I really feel as though I need to meet this woman.  We would be great friends, don't you think?  

My absolute least favorite part of the back to school stuff is all the PTA paperwork.  SAVE A TREE, PEOPLE!  PUT ALL OF IT ON THE INTERWEBS!!  THAT'S WHY AL GORE INVENTED IT!  I swear I am cross-eyed from checking the little boxes, and I'm sure that there's some very judgmental PTA member shaking her head at the decline in my handwriting.  Whatever.  I sent my check.  Give me my free Chick-fil-a sandwiches and keep your opinions to yourself, lady.

My second least favorite part of the back to school stuff is Curriculum Night.  This is basically where we sit and listen to the team explain their expectations for the year.  I'm a former teacher.  I get it.  It's an important thing to do.....for those parents who can't READ.   Lucky me, I have the human snot factory and a husband working late, so my group text with two of my fellow soccer mom girlfriends went something like this:

Me:  I'm going to keep L home from soccer.  He's been really sick all weekend (probably from partying so hard Friday night with your kid, J.)

J:  Poor guy

Me:  And we just got home from the doc to find out C has an upper respiratory and ear infection.  YAYNESS!  The hubs won't be home until late, so I don't think I'm going to make it to curriculum night.  I'll just stay home and drink.

J:  How pleasant!

M:  In some ways, I'd rather stay home and drink.  Maybe we should bring drinks to curriculum night and take a shot every time they say we have to sign something.

Me:  Or mention the STAAR test (State standardized tests blow)

M:  I'll be hammered by the end!

Me:  You have twins, so that means you have to drink doubles.

J:  How about we shotgun a beer every time the PowerPoint screws up or someone asks if we can hear them.  

M:  Man, Amy, you're going to miss some fun!

Me:  Nah.  Y'all just need to FaceTime me so I can be present.  Best. Curriculum. Night. Ever.

Don't judge me.  You're just jealous you didn't think of it before you had to go to Curriculum Night

School Days

As I sit here on the night before the first day of school, I remember my first days of school.  I remember being so excited when my bffs were both in my 3rd grade class.  I remember the thrill of driving to school on the first day of my junior year in high school because I had finally gotten my license two weeks prior.  My first day of my sophomore year in college was remarkable because I wore my ADPi letters with such pride.  I remember that I wore black on the first day of school every year that I taught.  (Coincidence?  Doubtful.)  I have always loved the first day of school.  I'm THAT kid.  I'm THAT mom.  Even so, there is one first day that stands out above the rest...my very first day at Texas A&M.

First day outfits are important.  I can remember what I've worn on the first day of school every single year from 1st grade until my last year of teaching.  (I can't remember why I went into the other room, but whatever.)  My first day in Aggieland was no exception.  I had chosen the perfect black baby-doll dress with maroon flowers, black sandals, and the most glorious gigantic maroon bow.  (It was 1994. Give me a break.)  What you also need to know is that my mom, God bless her, always gave me lucky panties for big events.  For my first day at A&M?  You guessed it!  Maroon satin panties!  I took the bus to West Campus, and as I was walking towards my first class in Kleburg  I felt so much confidence, so much pride, so much excitement, so much breeze.  HOLD UP!  Breeze?  Yes, breeze.  Across my behind.  The entire back of my dress was tucked up under my backpack.  It seems the rest of West Campus got to see my lucky panties, too.  Well, shit.

Time for my next class on Main Campus.  It was pouring rain, so I was very thankful that I had my trusty maroon umbrella.  Too bad I got freaking lost on my way to the Psychology building.  I ended up over by Blocker and didn't get to the Psyc building until 30 minutes AFTER class had started.  Now, let's pause for a minute.  A normal, rational, person would have said, "Screw this, I'll go Wednesday."  But I never said I was normal or rational.  Pause over.  I barge into the class of 350 students looking like a drowned rat, my big bow was about as perky as a deflated hot-air balloon, and there was one seat open in the entire auditorium.  It was in the front freaking row.  Awesome!  This day just keeps getting better!  It was at this very moment the professor says, "If you plan to be late, you can plan to fail.  Don't bother coming at all."  Neat-o!  He noticed me!!  I suffer through the remainder of class and decide that I need to apologize to him.  I introduced myself and apologized profusely for arriving late, and then as I was telling him I got lost he says, "Maybe you should learn to read a map."  Maybe I should just drop your class, Asshat.  Which is exactly what I did, but before that I felt the need to reward myself for making it though my first day of college (translation: eat my feelings) with some FroYo in the MSC!!!  

I was so turned around and so lost from my trek across campus earlier that I ended up getting on the bus that I KNEW would drop me off behind the MSC.  God bless those Fish Camp counselors.  My DG leader always said, "If you get lost, just get on the Hullaballoo bus.  It will drop you off behind the MSC and you can get anywhere from there."  Well, I'm the dipshit that didn't realize you can see the MSC from the back door of the Psychology building, so I took an unnecessary bus ride, but it gave me more time to feel sorry for myself.  ***Do you remember the mention that it had rained earlier?  It had stopped by now but the streets were still wet, causing wet steps on the bus.***  The bus pulled up behind the MSC, right in front of Simpson Drill Field.  The Aggie Fish Drill Team was lined up and about to practice.  I was so interested in what they were doing that I didn't pay attention to the first very wet step.  I slipped, landed on my back, on the ground with my legs over my head.  I mooned the entire Fish Drill Team.  My lucky panties were getting more action on the first day of class than I got that entire semester.

I skipped the froyo and went straight for the Blue Bell.  I got to my dorm and immediately called my mom.  She would comfort me and make me feel better!  I was in tears telling her about my day.  I thought she was crying too, because she was quiet and sniffing....wait, she wasn't sniffing.  She was laughing her ass off!!!  She went to the first meeting of the Katy Aggie Moms Club that night and told them all the story about my first day at Texas A&M University.  Guess what?  They put it in the newsletter.  Guess what else?  I burned those damn panties.

Happy birthday to ME!!!

Well, kids, I won't lie to you.  I freaking love my birthday.  I really feel that it should be a national holiday.  I've refused to work or go to school on my birthday my entire life, which has luckily not been a problem since my birthday is in the middle of the summer and I chose a career in teaching, but whatever.  August 1 is my favorite day of the year.  I love it and so should you!

This particular birthday is remarkable because this year I am 37.  THIRTY-SEVEN.  Y'all, I really thought I'd have my shit together by the time I was this age, but I still feel as clueless as I did when I was 21.  Well, about most things, anyway.   My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 37, and she died at the age of 42.   I know that I have some tiny element of control over what happens with my body.  What I haven't mentioned to you all yet is that I have been on a weight-loss journey for almost a year.  Since last Labor Day 2012 I am down 40 lbs.  I've always been a bigger girl.  I'm 5'10" and all legs.  Do you know how scarring it is to be the tallest, biggest kid in your class from 3rd through 6th grade?  Let me tell you, it will do a number on your self-esteem, and as you saw in one of my earlier posts, my fashion sense was a bit lacking.  In my mind I was like the weird girl in the movie "Sixteen Candles" but without the weird headgear and tiny Chinese boyfriend.  Also, I could sing, and I had friends.  Back to the weight-loss thing... I started running in February just to see if I could run a mile.  I initially had a goal of running a 5K before I turned 40 (along with growing my hair out long and getting my first bikini wax.  I'm pretty sure that last thing won't happen unless there is tequila involved, but I can wear a ponytail now). One mile turned into 4, and I ran my first half-marathon in  June.  I ran a 10K last weekend.  In September I'm registered for a 10 miler. In December and January I will run 2 more 1/2 marathons. There's this voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, "Just do one full marathon.  Just so you can say you did it."  No matter how much wine I give that mouthy bitch, she just won't shut up.  So, you guessed it.  In February I will run a full 26.2 miles.  

Luckily, I like fine wine.  No, wait.  I mean I'm like a fine wine.  I've gotten better with age. I appreciate the little things now a lot more than I did then.  I really appreciate the fact that I started this birthday with an early morning run for the first time in my entire life.   At 5:30 a.m.  In the dark.  Before the roosters woke up.  I appreciate a hand-written card.  I appreciate my 4 1/2 year old starting my day by saying "Happy burday!  Where's the cake?"  (Damn skippy, Clay!  Where was my cake at 6:30 a.m.?)  

It's ridiculous, I tell you.  I am training for a marathon, but I still haven't run a 5K.  Maybe I'll get around to it before I turn 40.  For now, I'll keep on keepin' on.  I'll keep cising my Jazzer with the most awesome ladies in Katy.  I'll keep running to not only clear my head and accomplish goals that once seemed so far out of reach, but to give me a better body than I had when I was in high school.  I'll keep eating right so that I can do those runs and have that body.  You can't eat crap and train for marathons.  Except when it's your birthday....

Because I F%&$ing Told You So!!!

Why?  

Why do we do stupid things after people tell us specifically to not do that one thing that we are about to do?  For instance, when someone says, "Do NOT eat at _____ restaurant," why do we think, "Oh, it can't be bad if there are always cars in the parking lot,"and then expect people to feel sorry for us when we get food poisoning?  Why did we go back to that boyfriend/girlfriend that broke our heart and then couldn't understand why our friends didn't show sympathy after the 3rd breakup?  Why do we insist on that 5th glass of wine when our best friend says, "Girl, you're done!"  Why do we continue to have nights with said best friend and wine when we know we don't recover quite as quickly as we did when we were 21 and the next day is full of kid birthday parties at Chuck-e-cheese and soccer games?  Oh wait, those last two were me.

My sweet 8 year old is incredibly smart, loves to read, is the best big brother EVER, and has been pretty damn close to perfect...until recently.  Remember the post that started it all?  (The day I backed into the damn tree for those of you with foggy memories, or those of you on your very own glass number 5)  I totally blame him for the destruction of the bumper because I told him not to run over the benches like hurdles in the parking lot full of jagged-edged rocks.  Did he listen?  Hell no!  As he sat there screaming like his leg was caught in a steel, sharp-toothed trap, I looked at him and said, "Didn't I tell you not to jump over the benches?"  I know.  I'm so compassionate.  Call me Florence Nightengale.    Well, tonight was another one of those instances.  I swear to you, I wonder often which of my boys has special needs.  The 4 year old has the diagnosis but the 8 year old leaves me baffled.  Let's just say that the conversation went something like this:

Luke:  Mom!  I really hurt myself and I'm bleeding to death!!

Me:  Luke, I don't have time for this.  Clay is in bed and Daddy is out of town.  

Luke:  But it's really, really baaaaaaaaaaaad!

Me:  What happened?

Luke:  (Sobbing) I hit my foot on the dining room table.  

Me:  (Thinking he stubbed his toe) Did you hurt the table?

Luke:  MOM!  It's bad and I'm bleeding!

***Sure enough, he has quite a bit of the red stuff coming from the back of his heel, just near his Achilles Tendon***

Me:  What did you do?

Luke:  Well, I was doing handstands in the dining room, and....

Me:  Wait, what?  I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO HANDSTANDS IN THE HOUSE!!

Luke:  You just told me not to do them in the living room.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why I need that aforementioned wine.

Cheers.

Not so random thoughts...

As I sit and read my Facebook feed, I can feel the muscles tighten in my neck and back over the smallest grammatical errors penned by COLLEGE GRADUATES!!   I know that I'm guilty of a comma splice and over-punctuating, but come on, people!  These are things that you should know before entering high school! The blunders that raise my blood pressure quickly are the to-too-two, they're-their-there, then-than, and lose-loose mix-ups.  You go to the party with Trent and me.  You don't go to the party with Trent and I.  Who ever went to a party with a person named I?  Don't even get me started on things like "I should of gone to the store" or "Irregardless" because I will not stop.  Oh, and recently I saw a funny e-card that said, "Every time you use an apostrophe to make a word plural, a puppy dies."  SO TRUE! 

Having said these things, there is one more point that burns deep inside my grammar-loving soul.  Good Texans should know how to spell the blessed union of you and all.  Come on back to second grade with me (not with I, you moron).  Think hard.  

"Y'all" is correct.  

"Ya'll" will send me into a complete rage.  

I'll be praying for y'all.  

Next topic...

Why I think auto-correct is from the devil in he'll

I've got nuthin'

I'm sorry I've been away.  I know you were all anxiously anticipating my next riveting post, but damn if life didn't get in the way!  I managed to make it through the past two weeks without selling either of my children to the circus or running away to live by myself in the mountains somewhere.  I totally considered both options, but I wouldn't get the tax credit without the kids and I'd miss my husband and my dog.  Kidding!! (sort of).

I'm not really sure what sort of wisdom you need me to share with you today, so I'll ask...What do you want to hear from me?  What topics would you like me to cover?  Any questions about life decisions, parenting, gardening, or yodeling?  Ask, and I shall answer!

Just a few reasons why I'll never be Mom of the Year

I love my children.  I really do.  Being a full-time mother was my dream from an early age.  Well, that and winning Star Search, but whatever.  God blessed me with two gorgeous boys and the ability to stay home with them.  We have so much fun together for the most part, but no amount of love can prevent those days where you really just want to list them on Craigslist.  That being said, I'm sure there are days where I should be sold on Craigslist so that they can have a better mom and my sweet husband can have a better wife.

Here are some of my most shining moments...

• That time I drove for an hour without the kid being buckled in his car seat
• That time I sat and drank chardonnay while watching The Wiggles at 2 pm. (It was an Australian blend)
• That time I was so sleep deprived that as I was carrying my newborn I totally ran into the door frame with his head.
• That time I locked both children in the car while it was running and had to try to explain to my 3 year old how to unbuckle his seatbelt and unlock the door
• That time I couldn't find the oldest child for a while and then heard faint noises only to find him locked in the car in the dark garage (apparently he didn't remember how to unlock the door from the previously mentioned incident)
• That time the 11 month old fell out of the basket at Target and hit the floor because the 4 year old unbuckled him.
• That time I was convinced "motherfucker" was going to be my youngest's first word
• That time I told my oldest that all the Little Einsteins died because I couldn't stand to listen to "pat, pat, pat, pat" one more damn time
• That time I told the preschool that I would come get my screaming, fever-running child after my haircut was finished (What?  I couldn't leave with half of my hair cut!)
• That time I left a basket FULL of groceries at the store because I couldn't stand to be in the store for one more second with two screaming, whining children.
• That time I tore up the hubby's reimbursement check before making sure the mobile deposit went in
• That time I sent my fair-skinned child to soccer camp without a ball or sunscreen (for the second day in a row thankyouverymuch)
• Did I mention that time I backed into a damn tree and didn't feel at all sorry for my kid who had just fallen and was screaming like his leg had been blown off in battle???

After texting with my cousin this morning and hearing that she sent her youngest to school with dog shit on his shoe because she was so mad at him she wouldn't let him do anything more than wipe it on the grass, It made me wonder what your proudest Mommy/Wife moments are.  PLEASE SHARE!!!!  Use the comments section!  If you're too ashamed to go public, just post as "anonymous" or "Anastasia Beaverhausen" and I promise you, we will not judge!!!

Words of wisdom

How often do you hear your mother's words come out of your own mouth?  

I lost my gorgeous mom too soon, but she really did more for me in 19 years than most mothers do for their children in a lifetime.  She was patient, caring, understanding, non-judgemental, and freaking hilarious.  As an only child, and a girl-child at that, I had the opportunity for LOTS of quality bonding.  I'm not sure how she managed to speak to me from the ages of 12-16, but whatever.  That's another blog post.  I always thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known and she had the most amazing voice.  Her words of advice, though irritating, still resonate in my mind.

This is her senior picture.  

The photographer won awards because of the color enhancements he did with the feathers.  

Fancy.

This is one of my favorite pictures of her.   

 Yes, she told me typical things like:

"Never say never."

"Always keep a quarter with you in case you need to call home." 

(Am I dating myself?)

"Breathe from your toes if you want to hit that high note dead-on."

"Do it right the first time and you won't have to do it again."

"It's better to be single than to be with an asshole."

But I feel the most important advice she gave had to do with appearance.
Go ahead, call me shallow.  She was a beauty queen, so she knew what she was talking about:

"No make-up in the world will cover up bad skin, so wash your face and use moisturizer everyday."

"People may not notice your new outfit, but bad hair and bad make-up can't be easily forgotten."

"Amy Leigh, don't wear stirrup pants.  If you fart, you'll blow your shoes off." 

(I was a gassy thing.)

"Just because it's in style and they make it in your size, doesn't mean you should wear it."

I really do find myself saying these things often...well, all except for the stirrup pants bit.  Let's be clear, I am not petite.  I am 5'10" and after losing 40 pounds, I'm still a size 12.  I will NOT be seen in a string bikini, Daisy Dukes, low-rise jeans, or a peplum.  EVER.  Some things just aren't meant to go on this body, no matter how successful I am with my weight-loss.  

WHY CAN'T THE REST OF THE WORLD GET ON BOARD?

My mom started teaching me to dress for my size and shape about the time I started junior high.  I guess she wanted to make sure I would have the knowledge necessary to put together flattering color palettes and slimming looks for my growing and developing body.  Having said that, I'm quite certain that she had a game plan early on to keep me humble.
Why in the hell else would she have dressed me like this??????

Sorry if you're blinded by my awesome yellow shirt.  I should have warned you. My bad!  Man, I was rockin' those parachute pants.  I'm pretty sure we were expecting rain.  The wooden necklace, matching bracelet and velcro straps on my shoes really add an element that says, 

"Don't screw with me, bitches, or I WILL CUT YOU!"  

At least my cousin, Kate, suffered a similar misfortune.

Black is slimming....

Unless you're fat and wearing an acid-washed skirt pulled up to your ribs. The fake Gucci purse that I just had to have really pulls the outfit together, don't you think?  The look on my face suggests that I was skeptical from the get-go.  Go with your gut! Always go with your gut!

What is with my hair in all of these pictures?  I look like a mullet gone wrong.

I remember being so proud of my favorite "Katy Tiger Red and White" shirt.

What you can't see is that these fabulous overalls have belt loops and I am sporting a red belt. At least I felt pretty??

I really have no words for this look.  

Wait, I totally do.

What the hell, Mom?  

Buckwheat???  Suspenders??  PUFFY PANTS ON THE FAT KID??

Not nice.  Rude, actually.

To my point, Clay just looked at this picture and said, "Mom, are you a boy?"

It's a good thing that you told me over and over to lighten up and not take myself quite so seriously. 

Let's be clear, I make an ass of myself on a daily basis.

Still, no amount of alcohol in Cancun would make that gold belt from Express that I loved and wore every damn day ok, today.

Love you, Mom!  

Thanks for all you taught me, even if I had to learn the hard way.