Most Talented? Not Here.

If I were to ask any of you, "What's my talent?" I guarantee that 99% of you will answer that I sing. Y'all, I don't just sing. I SING. It's what I do to feed my soul. It's always been how I serve and how I worship. I do it even when I don't realize I'm doing it. I've sung for so long, it's part of who I am. I feel most comfortable in my own skin when I'm singing.

Clay. Hates. It.

Yeah, you heard me. Clay hates when I sing.  He loves music and he listens to all kinds of songs on his ipad.  Anyone elses's singing is just fine. My singing is torture for him. If I sing one note or even talk in a sing-song manner, he loses his shit. I'm not allowed to sing in the car. I get yelled at from the back seat. If I sing in the shower, he will come in the bathroom, screaming and crying real tears, open the shower door, and beg me to stop.  When I sang at my grandfather's funeral, and then three years later at my grandmother's funeral, he buried his head in my husband's lap and squeezed his hands over his years. Whenever I was asked to sing at church, he refused to go. I haven't been asked to sing in over a year, and he has let it be known that he is so glad Mommy isn't singing on the microphone. He was playing soccer in the backyard this afternoon and I took that time to sing some Etta James. He burst through the door screaming at me, demanding I stop. Before you start suggesting I just do it anyway, you have no idea. We have tried to work through this since he was 14 months old. We have worked with his speech therapist. We have worked with his occupational therapist. We have worked with his ABA therapist. We clearly haven't been successful. The only time it's remotely allowed is when it's bedtime. But even then I have to sing the same 5 songs, in the same order, in the same key. He has perfect pitch. Really, bro?

My sweet boy has overcome so many obstacles and has far surpassed my initial expectations. He's smart. He's sweet. He's funny. He. Is. So. Pure. Autism may hide in the shadows most of the time, but it really does rip a stinky fart now and then just to remind you it's there. We spent last week in San Antonio with my best friend and her family. Clay was on cloud 9. We played. We swam. We ate junk food. We stayed up late. It was a wonderful week. We came home and he's terrified to sleep in his own bed. Wanna know why? He's afraid of Adolf Hitler. Adolf. Freaking. Hitler. How in the world does he even know about Adolf Hitler? Because he heard about him on an episode of his favorite tv show, "The Office" and wanted to know more. Hubby gave him the most appropriate description, but the kid knows how to google. Thanks a lot, Michael Scott. Thanks a lot.

Six. More. Days.

So, my last post was way-too-freaking-long-ago, but it's because I've basically been working three full-time jobs. Being a mama to my two, plus being an active realtor, kept me busy enough. Adding the school job on top of it was great, in theory, but...my last day is next week. I love these kiddos, but let me tell you, my ADD game is STRONG right now. It's bad. y'all. I had to get a special pill organizer! It's a sad, sad, day when you're reading Amazon reviews and you pick the right pill organizer based on the fact that "you can remove just the days that you need if you're going on a spontaneous vacay." 

Uh, I have so little spare time that I have to set reminder alarms for alarms

Let's be clear, I can multi-task like a BOSS, but the last week of school has brought out an inner kindergartner in me that I didn't know existed. People are talking at full volume all around me and I'm all "SHUT UP YOU JERKS!!! I AM TRYING TO COUNT PAPERCLIPS!!!" Yeah. It's serious. I'm so grouchy, it feels like I haven't taken my meds in weeks. Or ever. I told my bff today, "If I had a uterus, I guarantee Aunt Flo would show up tomorrow with her doilies and fruit cake." The struggle is REAL.

****I just looked at my post, and saw all the capitalized words. This is a serious situation and I need you to know the depths of my angst.*****

We need to talk about being a 41 1/2 year old mom in May. So many advance notices about things coming up "next year" accompanied by physical exam forms and "end-of-the-year-announcements". So many, "We need you to see if your child lost a retainer in the lost and found." So many, "Hey! It's Sno-cone day tomorrow, so send $75 with your kid!" I. Just. Can't. I'm tapped out. I'm done.

Oh, and did I mention my a/c went out last night? FIX IT JESUS!!!!! The repair guy called at 3:00 to say, "Hey, I'm at your house and nobody is answering the door." Well, yeah, you dumbass!!! Nobody called to tell me you were coming! Who knew? All through April we had freeze warnings and cancelled soccer games for wind chills and temps below freezing. (For the little one. Not for the big one. He plays competitive soccer and they don't give two shits. Ice on the roads and snow on the ground but "7:30 am start time" still sticks.)

That white stuff is for real snow. In Arkansas. In April. 

And then the sweetest, most darling kindergartner walked in at 3:39 with diarrhea running down BOTH legs, I had to go to my happy place. At 4:19. 

Oh, and I love JJ Watt!!!

One job is never enough.

I absolutely love selling houses. I'm good at it, and I get to work with people during one of their most significant life changes. I've had friends become clients as well as clients become friends. I have to say that it's my favorite job I've ever had, My second most favorite job was being the office manager at a pre-school. School is so much fun to me! I knew I was going to be a teacher. I have some of the best memories of my 6th, 7th, and 8th graders and I am proud to still be in touch with so many of them. Growing up, I always played "school" or "secretary", but I was a very specific kind of secretary. I was either a receptionist or the Principal's secretary. 

Now that I really have a handle on how I like to work my real estate career, I thought I'd peruse the local district's job openings to see if there were any clerical positions. It's really a win-win. I'm on my kids' schedule AND I'm busy enough that I don't sit on the couch eating Cheetos all day. Oh, and a bi-weekly paycheck in addition to my Rodan+Fields income would mean I can get the cleaning fairies to come back. 

You know what's coming....

I'm the newest employee at one of the elementary schools in Edmond. I asked Clay if he wanted to come with me to my new school and his response was, "No thank you." Well, alrighty then. Before you ask if I'm teaching again, please know that the answer to that question is "HELL TO THE NAW!!" I have an even better job. I'm the front desk secretary! It's been a long time since I've had to be up, dressed, hair and make-up done, and ready to "people" at 7:30 a.m. Monday changed that. I was so tired on Monday that I was asleep by 7:30. Tuesday, I almost made it to 9:00. Wednesday and Thursday weren't any better. Today, I had a coffee at 2:30 because my sentences weren't making any sense. Here's hoping I make it to 10:00. HA! Aside from the sleepy struggles, it's great, y'all! I get all the benefits of playing with my school co-workers and being around kids, but I don't have to worry about all that teaching stuff getting in the way.

Kids are HAH-LARRY-US, but kids with Autism hold a special place on the hilarity scale. One in particular felt it necessary to tell the principal he yelled at another kid because that other kid was "PISSIN' HIM OFF!!" Autism doesn't have a filter, kids. You wanna know if that dress makes you look fat? Ask a kid on the Spectrum. 

I feel like I'm a bit of an expert now, and I want to share what I've learned after a year-and-a-half as PTO President (had to resign when I took the job) and one week as the "new lady in the office". Here are a few tips for those of you with kiddos in the school system. 

1) If any employee asks to see your ID, even though you have had 18 kids go through that school, please don't give them any shit. IT MIGHT BE HER FIRST DAY, MAN! 

2) Eat lunch with your kids as much as you can and give them lots and lots of kisses, even in front of their friends. I've watched 5th grade boys wipe off their mamas' kisses, but turn to walk back to class with a genuine smile on their faces.

3) Nobody, and I mean NO. BAH. DEE. is judging you for coming up to school in your sweatpants, no bra, messy bun, and no makeup. We're too busy being jealous.

4) If soup is on the menu and your kid is buying lunch, make sure that there are some extra clothes available for when the soup explodes.

5) I guarantee you'd be a bajillionaire if you could invent a mister that only sprayed kid-friendly Lysol as kids walked in and out of the door.

6) Respect the carpool! That's right. Hell hath no fury like a mom still on her first cup of coffee in a minivan. You breaking the rules and jacking the system only makes it harder for you in the end. Moms AND dads will join in solidarity to keep your cheating ass stuck in the parking lot and unable to get out. Oh, and for the love of all things good and holy, the moment your kids get out of the car is not the appropriate time to engage in a long conversation. Discuss whether or not Kesha has lost her edge since dropping the $ around the dinner table, not the car line.

Oh, how I've missed you!!

Oh my goodness gracious on a stick!!!! I have missed sharing my innermost thoughts with you all so much! Between Thanksgiving and Christmas I start planning my goals for the following year and getting back to blogging was at the top of my list of goals for 2018!! Somewhere between dog surgeries, selling houses, and trying to keep the foul stank (yes, I meant to type stank) of soccer cleats and shin guards out of my car, I dropped blogging. Well, fear not, my pretties. Mama's back!

We have so much to catch up on, but I'll just give a quick little run down of things on my mind lately.

1) I have the coolest kids ever. I never hid the fact that there was a good chunk of time that I worried about my relationship with my oldest. He was not my favorite person. I always loved him, but I didn't like him. At all. He was kind of a jerk, y'all. To everyone else he was wonderful, polite, and helpful. To me? Not so much. To me he was a total jackass. I can now say without hesitation that he's pretty much my favorite person in the history of the world. He's a lot like me which can be awesome and awful at the same time. Luckily for both of us, 90% of the time, it's the former. As much as he's like me, he's like his dad. He doesn't like to draw attention to himself or put himself out there in social situations. He really likes to hang back and watch it all happen. He's a fantastic athlete. Runs like a gazelle and still loves soccer. At 12 years old he's 5' 5 1/2" and weighs in at a whopping 97 lbs. I don't know how. He eats constantly. Con. Stant. Ly. Both of the boys do. My baby boy isn't such a baby anymore, but he's still MY baby. He still says things that are so innocent. For example, "Mommy, I really want to see one of those 4 times 4 trucks. I bet a 16 year old drives it because 4 times 4 is 16." (Thinking.....) "Oh, buddy, you mean a 4 'by' 4?" "Yeah, see, look. It says '4x4' on the back." I love his little mind. When I think about how far he's come and all the people that have helped him get there, I seriously want to go full Oprah on them and give them all a car. I couldn't have ever gotten here without them.

2) I really and truly thought Nick Saban's head was going to explode during the National Championship game. Like, for real. I was sad to see Georgia lose, but even more sad that Alabama won. 

3) My body is quitting on me. I ran my last race in October 2016. After that race, my doctor told me I needed to take some time off. I said, "Oh, like a few weeks?" She said, "No, like a year." (cue the sound of the record needle being ripped off) So, I took a year off and then started abusing my feet in other ways and after a year of pounding, they have said, "Look-a here, Sister. We ain't playin'. WE SAID NO MORE!!!" What is this fresh hell I've stepped into? My feet hurt all the time. I've succumbed to Birkenstocks. My hair is almost 100% gray without my hair magician, Janae. (But, hey, I can wear it curly if I want to!) Most disturbing of all, is that I can't identify 90% of the songs on the radio or pick the singers out of a line-up. The music scene is pretty terrible lately. I find myself listening to more 80's and 90's music on Pandora or classic hymns if I listen to anything at all. Does all of this officially mean I'm old now? Shit.

 

4) I miss my Lola Jane. We had to help her cross the Rainbow Bridge in September. We don't know how old the poor girl was, but Sister Saggy Tits sure had a great 4 years with us. She ruled this house like a queen. We should all strive to be a little like Lola.

Go against the norm.

"Oh, that laundry is clean? Here, let me lay on it.That way you don't have to worry about folding it." 

Live with determination.

"Yeah, I know my legs are short, but if you leave that loaf of Kings Hawaiian Bread on the counter, I'll show you how high I can jump!"

Protect those you love.

"It's a hard job to sit and stare out this window between 3 hour naps. What if a cat tries to come in and kill us all!!"

5) Peach, pink, tan, and all flesh colored leggings should be BANNED!!! I can't tell you how many wrecks I've almost had taking my son to school because some poor gal didn't have me in her life to tell her, "No, girl! Just, NO!!"

I'm back, y'all.

Tis the Season...

Y'all. I love Christmas. 

I LOVE Christmas. 

I. LOVE. CHRISTMAS. 

I love the weeks leading up to it. I had a Christmas wedding because I love Christmas so much. My house is usually decorated for Christmas the night before we leave for Thanksgiving just so we can come home to Christmas decorations. I love singing Christmas music. I love everything about it. I love shopping for other people and choosing special gifts for them. I love planning what Santa's 3 gifts will be for each kid...Jesus got 3 gifts so they get 3 gifts. I love watching Christmas movies. I love celebrating my youngest's birthday the week before. I love addressing and receiving cards. I love baking. I love ALL of the Christmas things! But this year, y'all, someone is trying to jack my joy.

It all started right before we left for Thanksgiving. I noticed my giant lab, Boris, had a big, puffy pocket inside his ear. That would be an aural hematoma. Shit. My dog has chronic ear infections due to allergies. We started on allergy shots this summer....yes, you read that correctly. Allergy shots for the DOG...but it hasn't been a long enough period of time for them to work their magic, so homeboy got an ear infection mid-November. With the ear infection comes a lot of flapping and scratching which ultimately caused the hematoma. If you want to be grossed out, watch this hematoma surgery being performed. I shouldn't have, but I did, and now I'm traumatized. Anywho, I knew that we would need to have surgery when we got back because the longer the hematoma stays, the more Boris would scratch it, the bigger it would get, and the more chance for rupture. Ew. So, I took big 'un to the vet the day after we got home and sure enough, surgery was scheduled for the very next day. Side note - we closed all of our credit cards the week before Thanksgiving because we (translation: I) want (translation: need) to be forced to stop using them. Yes, I had to give myself some tough love. It was ugly and there were tears and gnashing of teeth but I pulled up my big girl panties and got over it. Needless to say, the first week in December wasn't exactly optimal time to have a doggy surgery, but it was necessary, so you gotta do what you gotta do. Long story short, the vet got in there and while the hematoma was pretty straight-forward, apparently he had a lot of funk in the ear that had to be removed and the surgery ended up costing $800. For real. 

We get Big Boris and his drunk, drugged up self home and it was so pitiful. He laid around for 2 days. And then the meds and anesthesia wore off and he went full-on crazy. I let him out and he started dragging his $800 ear in the grass and then scratching it. Oh hell no! You scratch the $800 ear, you get the cone. That dog was slamming into walls and door frames and ripped half of the ornaments off the tree with that thing. It was broken in half in a day! This is why we can't have nice things y'all. So, cone number two came into our lives. What you also need to know is that he is on his second head wrap. Yes, second. We had to go back to the vet this morning because he pulled the damn thing off. In the middle of the night last night, he wacked into a wall (on purpose I'm sure) which was the final demise of cone number 2

It make it 2 days. We are now on cone number 3. 

This bitch is indestructible.

Please note the look of "Mom, I'm so going to pee in your closet."

The vet and I were talking about him and the fact that he's so agitated even when he's on his max dose of pain/anxiety meds. So, she did what any good doc would do. SHE PRESCRIBED XANAX. Oh, for the love.

The other thing that happened this week is that I got a speeding ticket. In a school zone. Right by my house. That's right. The PTO president was speeding. In the freaking school zone. Mr Motorcycle Cop asked me why I was speeding in said school zone. I stopped myself before telling him "It's been a stressful few days with my dog and I need to get to the liquor store before my kids get home" Something tells me he wouldn't have cared.

So, I've made it to Wednesday. The vet adventure this morning was quite interesting and the pharmacy called to verify that yes, indeed, the Xanax was for the DOG. I had a wonderful lunch with a great girlfriend and then I thought I'd stop by the store for a nice bottle of wine for tonight's dinner. The universe said, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" This was in the form of a very sad phone call from my youngest crying at school because he didn't feel good and needed to come home.

I know. I should count my blessings. I have a warm house. My dog is totally zoned out. Both boys are doing well in school. I can shop online next week. I have a great job that I love. I have amazing friends. Hubby and I have just celebrated our 16th anniversary. The cold front is here. I'm staring at my gorgeous Christmas tree, sitting by the fire. The only thing that could make it more perfect is a glass of wine....but I'm out.

The BIG 4-0!!

Y'all, I'm more excited about turning 40 than I was about turning 16 or 21. August 1, 2016 will be the best day ever! I remember being 16 and my mom turning 40. I thought she was such a grown-up. At that time, and even up until recently, I thought all Forty year olds had their shit together. I mean, seriously. Forty year olds are supposed to be debt free, with 6 months worth of savings in the bank, and their kids' college educations fully funded. Forty year olds are supposed to behave themselves and take vitamins every day. Forty year olds are supposed to live every moment with and for their children.

Um....This girl? Not so much. But, who cares?

I am at an age where I can honestly say, with absolute certainty and sincerity, that I no longer give a damn what anyone thinks of me. I may not be debt free with 6 months savings and fully-funded college educations, but I will one day. (In the meantime, know anyone who wants to buy or sell a house?) I have learned that I have to take time for myself and I absolutely have to have time with my girlfriends. Know what else I've learned? Taking family vacations with just my husband and my kids is the best thing ever. We just spent the week in Colorado and it was so fun to get away from reality and just be together. Just me and my perfect little family. And a hailstorm, but whatever. Yay for being an adult and having great insurance!

I am more comfortable in my body now than ever. Sure, parts of my body are lower than they used to be and I've got tiger stripes. (That sounds so much better than stretch-marks, don't you think?) I have pains in new places everyday and make noises that only my grandma used to make, but y'all, I've been through so much! And I am STRONG! In 40 years, I lost my mother and became a mother myself. I graduated from the best university in the world. WHOOP! I have not just navigated roads people fear, but made the path wide enough to support others on their journey. I am in better physical shape now than I was 20 years ago. I trained for 3 marathons and in the process, completed 6 half marathons and 2 full marathons in the past 3 years, and it's all because I wanted to complete a 5K before I turned 40. I grew, inside my body, the two most gorgeous boys on the planet. I don't hesitate to jump on stage and sing with the band. I can do the splits and the worm...but not at the same time. That would be dangerous. 

So, everyone go grab a glass of wine and let's celebrate....all month long!!

Glory Days

Kids these days just don't have the great products that we, the children of the 80's, had. My kid said to me a few weeks ago on a 3 hour car trip, "I really wish I had data on my iPad so that I could just watch Netflix." I nearly ran the car off the road as I explained how fortunate he is. When I was a kid, I was stuck in the back of my parents' Toyota Corolla hatchback with my Speak 'n Spell, books, and music. He says "Oh, did you just have an old Mp3 player or something?" Bless his heart. I said, "No, dude! I had a cassette player!" He goes, "What's a cassette?" A little piece of my heart died. Then, my friend, Amy, posted a picture from May 1989 on Facebook. (My mom used to call her "Pretty Amy" and I am quite certain it has something to do with my low self esteem and constant need for approval and reassurance but I'm not at all bitter about it.)

See what I mean? She's gorgeous. And that hair! I tried so hard to achieve hair greatness like that, but it just never quite got there. A few years ago Amy caught her hair on fire during the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Let's all thank the good Lord it didn't happen in the days of Aquanet and Rave, or she'd be a gonner.

 Look at this magnificent chronicle of 80's grandeur. There's a Le Clic camera on the floor, y'all. And do you notice that wooden peg thing over her left shoulder? That's a bandana with a ceramic heart. That necklace was proudly worn with the denim jumper, white shirt with the large ruffled collar, and red Keds. That turntable was the bomb. Zoom in. Relive your youth. 

I so remember the days of big hair, matching my bow to my socks, and singing along with Milli Vanilli at the top of my lungs. Watching my kid enter this stage of life is quite amusing. I am taking great pleasure in continuing to be as obnoxious as I've always been, much to his dismay, but to the complete and utter delight of his friends. Hey, at least they think I'm cool, even though I never had a Le Clic camera or a hair crimper.

.

Greatest Hits? Who knew?

I spent the weekend with him and his soccer team in Wichita, Kansas. (To all of my Texas friends that think Oklahoma sucks, you ain't been to Wichita.) Let me just say this. It became very clear to me this weekend that I was really destined to be a boy mom, but daaaaang do they stink. I couldn't decide what the dead, rotten, decaying, corpse-ass smell was coming from the back of my car until I got a good whiff of my kids backpack that held his cleats. You know in cartoons when they show a green hazy flow coming off of something? It was exactly like that. I swear. Cleaning and/or burning those items was the first thing on my to-do list when we got home. But, aside from the stench, the boys were hilarious. One of my favorite moments was when one of my kid's buddies asked me, "Ms. Amy, have you ever heard the song 'The Cars That Go Boom'?" Oh, bless your heart, young one. That was my 7th grade jam! I did what any good mom would do. I pulled that bad boy up on iTunes, turned the volume up, rolled down the windows and threw a little dance party for the 5 people in my car. I sang. I gyrated. I impressed the snot out of them. Oh yes, I did. 

I've lost my ever-lovin' mind. Y'all, I am the president-elect for the middle school PTO. I don't even have a kid in middle school yet, but I've just gone balls to the wall with my volunteerism and level of parental involvement. What was I thinking? I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that the middle school people are my tribe. I get them. They get me. I taught 6th, 7th, and 8th graders for 9 years before I "retired" to stay home with my kiddos. I know that these teachers want food and booze. I haven't told my incoming middle schooler yet. We'll see how well that goes over. 

cue maniacle laugh

Getting Older

I've decided that getting old is very much like the Alanis Morisette song, "Ironic".  You know the one.

It's like rain on your wedding day.

It's a free ride when you've already paid.

It's the good advice that you just didn't take.

Now, I'm not one to argue with Alanis over the definition of "ironic".  I mean, the name of the song should really be "Unfortunate" but I guess it just didn't sound as angry.  I don't know.  The point is, I'm wondering if this song was written about getting older. I turned 39 last week and here are a few unfortunate circumstances I've been experiencing lately.

• I like to enjoy relaxing with a book, but that tiny, tiny print is so, well, tiny. When did they start shrinking the print? Thank goodness for the Kindle and the ability to enlarge the font. No reading glasses yet. That font will be one word per page before I acquiesce to that.
• I am working hard to stay in shape.  I run marathons, y'all. I can do 2 back-to-back Zumba classes.  But, I am tired.  So, so, tired. I don't sleep as well at night and there is no built-in naptime anymore. Oh, how I miss naptime.  
• We finally have money to do cool stuff, but we have to spend it on stupid stuff like tires. Tires are not cool!
• It takes me two weeks to lose 5 lbs, but two really good meals to gain it back.  What the hell?

These are just a few inconveniences.  They are really annoying, but I can't say that they are really impeding my life so much.  But, there is one recent discovery that really has a bee in my bonnet. I can't even wrap my head around this.  It's a loss.  A deep hurt that inspires the best songs.  A sadness that even Nicholas Sparks dare not attempt to write about.  I've been dealing with reflux for the past year or so.  I'm on a prescription for it.  It's the kind of reflux that will keep you up at night.  It feels like a tsunami of acid in my stomach, chest, and throat.  It caused me to lose my voice last summer, which is really bad for the whole singing thing.  It was so bad this morning that I had to stop my run for fear I was going to be sick. What I'm trying to say is, it's bad.  I do finally think that I've found the culprit.  You'd think I'd be elated.  You'd think I'd cut the bitch that was making me so miserable.  You'd think I would just kick it to the curb.  Well, I'm having a hard time letting go of this one, but we've come to a point where we have to part ways.  I just keep saying, "It's not you, it's me" in the hopes that if I say it enough, feelings will be spared and it will be an easy split.  I'd like to visit from time to time without things being all awkward.  We have so many mutual friends.  Y'all, guess what really causes the reflux.

Red Wine.

Call Me Grace

I apologize in advance for any typos that may occur. You see, I am attempting to write this blog as a talk to text document. Why, may you ask, am I doing this? Well folks, I broke my arm.

I don't even have a good story to go with it. My cleaning ladies had just left and the floor was extra wet. Lola needed to go out, so I answered her call. I took one step on the wet tile and I was totally airborne. Yes, the cleaning fairies did such a good job on my kitchen floor that I slipped and broke my arm. #firstworldproblems. Apparently your arm is not meant to hold your entire body weight. Unless you are Superman.

I knew when I landed that something was very wrong, so I crawled to the freezer and immediately put ice on my arm. After about 30 seconds I thought, "Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I'm overreacting." I barely touched the foot of my bed with my fingers and it felt like.... Remember when we were kids and we used to play super Mario Brothers on the Nintendo and we would just shoot fireball after fireball after fireball after fireball?  It felt like that short, moustached, overalls wearing son of a bitch was shooting those fireballs right into my fingers and up my arm into my shoulder.  At that point I thought....

I called Trent and got no answer. I sent him a text that casually said "I think I broke my arm". Next I called my new friend Kelly. 

I freaking love Kelly. I'm pretty sure that God moved us to Edmond so that Kelly and I could be friends. She is my running partner, our kids are BFFs, and our husbands have this cute little bromance brewing. Some other time I'll post about the day we went to Lululemon and she helped me try stuff on.

Spandex + bigass cast + thong mishap = lots of laughing.

RING-RING

Kelly: "Hey whatcha doing?" 

Me: "I'm pretty sure I just broke my arm." 

Kelly:  "I'll be there in five minutes." 

Me: "Okay. The front door will be unlocked. I have to take a shower." 

Who does that? Seriously. They are not going to care that I have crazy hair and yesterday's deodorant, but it was very important to me to smell fresh for the ER doctors. As soon as the shower was over, so was the adrenaline rush. The pain was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. That includes two C-sections and an abdominal hysterectomy. Kelly walks in the front door to find me standing in my bedroom completely naked. I take one look at her, start crying, and say, "What if I can't ruuuuuuun the marathooooon?" Kelly says, "Let's get your underwear on first, then we can worry about the running thing." Trent meets us at the ER and we wait. Exes are Rayed and sure enough, it's broken. They put me in a splint, referred me to an orthopedic specialist with an appointment for the next day, gave me a prescription for pain meds, and sent me on my way.  

Divine intervention rather than a moment of insanity inspired me to cut all of my hair off the week before. Long hair is manageable. You get a blowout once or twice a week and find a good dry shampoo. Super short hair doesn't work that way! The morning of my appt, my super sweet hairdresser offered to come over and fix my hair. GOD BLESS HER! We also devised a blow drying plan that would impress MacGyver. I'm getting really good at fixing my hair with one hand. (Is there a contest for that? I would WIN!) 

This is the first bone I've ever broken. I managed to live 38 years without breaking a bone. There's a first time for everything. The little girl in me knew immediately what color my cast would be.

 The cool news is that I get a new one every two weeks. I get to have all of my favorite colors represented throughout this injury! My first question to the doctor was, "When can I run?" His response was more of a look and a snort than an answer. I said, "No I'm serious. I am supposed to run the OKC Memorial Marathon in a month." He told me that I should be okay to run in two weeks. That'll be nice, because I will have a new waterproof cast for that experience. I can only hope that it is a shorter cast, but my gut tells me it's going to be another big 'un. He then went on to say that I might not want to run. Trent just looked at him and shook his head in pity. I said, "You haven't met me. I will be running and I will have bling on my cast." That truly is the plan, unless my arm still hurts like a mofo and my thumb still looks like a giant turkey leg.

What I haven't told you is that I picked the worst week to break my arm. My sweet Clay was having his tonsils out on Friday. How was I going to take care of my sweet baby in his hour of need? How was I going to be the one to get up in the middle of the night and give him his pain medicine when I was in so much pain myself? I'll tell you how. I'm Supermom I can totally do this. We have weathered much worse storms in his short six years. This would be a cinch. We start talking to Clay about his surgery and how Mommy will be with him and take good care of him. He starts to cry and says, "No! I only want daddy." Neat. 

All has gone well so far. The tonsils and adenoids are gone and my boy is on the mend. Thank goodness I have those pill organizers so that I can dose his meds as he recovers this week. Why does everything have to have a damn screwtop? Those childproof caps would have made Jesus cuss. I'm sure of it. 

Taking pain meds did put a little damper on my wine consumption, but I'm dedicated to my craft. I switched to Ibuprofen and acetaminophen after three days just so I could drink some wine with Olivia Pope on Thursday. Some might call it a problem. I call it homeopathic medicine. I'm choosing my pain relief, yo! 

Coming up: Will I have to beat the crap out of someone with my cast for calling me a jogger? Stay tuned, my friends. Stay tuned.

I finally met the neighbors!!!

They do exist!  They don't airdrop food for their dogs!  

Yesterday, I was smack in the middle of a recipe and realized that I was out of butter and cheese.  Not sure how that happens, but whatevs.  I threw on a tshirt and some shorts, combed my just-out-of-the-shower hair, and walked out to the car.  There she was.  My neighbor in her driveway.  I apologized for my appearance, but needed to meet her anyway.  Very sweet lady.  She and her husband are retired and travel quite a bit.  Ah.  That explains their absence. 

This picture was Saturday morning.  The dogs were so confused by this made up bed business.I gotta tell you that I've been really good about making my bed everyday and keeping the house tidy.  I don't have to get dressed up in my work finery anymore, but still try to fix myself up on a day to day basis, and by fixing myself up, I mean I wear the nice yoga pants and put on just enough make-up to keep from scaring small children should we need to make a mad dash to the ER. 

Today was not one of those days.  Today, I got home from cising my Jazzer, took a shower, did some computer work and thought, "Hot damn!  I'm going to take a nap!"  And that's exactly what I did.  The kids came home from school, I was folding laundry, the dogs were sleeping, and then the doorbell rang.  My other neighbors were here to meet us!  They are also from Texas (Yee HAW!) and have a 5th grader and a 4th grader.  This is a match made in heaven.  You would think I would be so excited!!!  But, I'm not, and I'll tell you why.  Both of my children and both of my dogs start acting like complete assholes.  Boris wouldn't quit barking.  Lola was jumping all over the 4th grader. The boys were slapping at each other, kicking each other, and chasing each other around the kitchen.  Clay throws himself on the ground and starts crying about how hungry he is.  I tell him "Daddy is bringing pizza."  To which he replies, "We already had pizza!  We eat pizza everyday!"  To make matters even better, this is what my house looks like at this very moment.

 Blankets all over the couch to attempt to cut down on the imbedded dog hair and a fresh pile of towels in the chair.

Nice pile of laundry that you can see right from the front entry way.  Lovely.

My kitchen table that I just cleared and Windexed this morning.

My kitchen counters.  I think they just exploded during my nap.

And remember me telling you how excited I was about my good DL picture?  

Here it is:

Too bad they didn't come over on Monday.  I would've looked just fab.  Instead, here's what they got:

Welcome to the motherfucking neighborhood.  

Where's the wine?

I can't keep calm, I'm from TEXAS!

Yes, I am fully aware that it is only Tuesday; however, I went to the DMV yesterday.  Ho. Ly. Mo. Ly.  Getting my car registered in Oklahoma might send me over the edge. I'm just sayin'.  It's one more reason to make sure you pay your shit off before moving to another state or purchase in full.  Not having the paper title is going to subtract years from my life.  Whatever.  It's cool.  I'm not in a hurry to get rid of my Texas license plate. At least I got my Oklahoma driver's license after a multi-step process.  You see, in OK you aren't gonna spend your entire day in one long line.  Oh, no.  You get to make an appointment online to go to one office to apply for your license.  Then, they send you to another office where you have to take your approval letter (yeah, my self-esteem needed that) and that's where they take your picture and give you your license.  Good news is, I'm still an organ donor (and you should be, too) and my picture is fabulous.

Y'all.  They actually put your weight on your license here!  I gotta say, if that ain't motivation to get my ass back in gear, I don't know what is.  (I may have told them my weight prior to Christmas.  Whatever!  Don't judge me!  I've been stressed out!  Surgery, then the holidays, then the move and all those wonderful Tex-Mex restaurants I had to hit before leaving, and all the goodbye celebrations, and all the wine that needed to be consumed, then I ate and drank my feelings for a few weeks, and they were delicious...)

But really, y'all.  I didn't lose 60 lbs to just gain them back.  Especially if my weight is on my license (minus the 10 lbs I've gained).  OH HELL NO!  So, I've gone back to the program that I know works.  Weight Watchers. 

I realize that some of my habits extra curricular calories have gotten a little out of hand, so I've decided that I'll start a Whole 30 on February 9.  What is a Whole 30 you ask?  Well, it's 30 days without grains, sugar (except natural sugars in fruit), dairy, or alcohol.  As my friend, Jaedeanne says, it's 30 days without joy.  No, no, no!  It's not that bad.  I still get to eat bacon.  Holla!!  Remember back when I had to do the 30 day candida diet?  It's basically that again, but this time I get to have fruit from the beginning and I don't have to explain to the pharmacist that I'm not buying all the anti-yeast medication in the store for a yeast infection that isn't "down there".  What?  TMI?  Then why are you reading my blog?  I digress.

Why am I doing another Whole 30?  Because it really is good for my body, especially after three months of food and drink debauchery.  It will help me through the toughest part of marathon training (WOO HOO!) and will help rid my body of all the toxins...those delicious, tasty toxins...that have built up over the past three months. Why am I waiting until February 9?  Because it would not be wise to set myself up for failure before a weekend with Erin in College Station.  The point is, the book It Starts With Food sorta changed my life and my relationship with food and we all need a little relationship counseling from time to time.  After those 30 days, I'll be a month out from my marathon and ready to eat a small village.  Let's just hope that I can keep my crankypants attitude in check.  I won't have trips to Starbucks and glasses of merlot to do that for me.

OK is OK

Helloooooooo friends!  It's been one week and one day since I moved to Edmond, Oklahoma.  I'm certain you were all waiting with anticipation to find out what I think of it.  Well, congratulations.  The wait is over.  Here are my thoughts....

My bff, Erin, drove up here with me and the dogs on Friday.  It was 9 hours of hilarity, but we made it.  It didn't hurt that we spent the night before at a very cool hotel (Hotel Icon in Downtown Houston) and had the best meal of our entire lives at Brennan's. Hey, we had to carb up, and wine definitely has carbs, and we were riding in my dream car (a fully loaded, brand new 2015 Suburban)  

Our drive up was uneventful, but did include a stop for convenience store lunchmeat that was a total bargain at $1, (the dogs needed Benadryl and cramming it down their throat didn't work.  By the way, Lola snarfed that shit down like it was a chocolate cake) Whataburger, and Dairy Queen.  (What?  We needed a Blizzard!)  

My first thought upon pulling into our neighborhood was, "Holy crap, it's DARK!"  See, here's the thing.  Apparently they don't believe in street lights in Oklahoma.  All along I was worried about needing a Rosetta Stone program, but it turns out I needed to invest in night vision goggles.  We got here at about 7:30 and at 7:35 my friend, Cissa, pulled up with a Welcome Basket!  She included wine (duh), a corkscrew, and glasses.  She is so smart!  There was also some cheese and crackers and an odd-shaped cutting board that looked sorta like a pot...  

Anywho, we visited with her for a bit and drank her wine because we didn't want to be rude, (ahem) and then we got to work.  By Sunday afternoon, Erin and I had everything unpacked.  Yes, we are machines.  We get shit done, yo.  Sunday night was ugly.  I won't lie.  When I dropped Erin off at the airport I felt like I was leaving a piece of me at the curb.  I love this girl, and I can't wait for her to visit!

Monday morning I was on my own.  I woke up and drank my coffee while gazing out the kitchen window at the breath-taking view.

Yes.  That is a pump jack.  Welcome to Oklahoma.

Even though we'd unpacked everything, there was still much to do, so I got to work.  Can I say that purchasing 2 ipad minis for Christmas was the greatest decision ever?  The boys were content, and I worked until we had to go enroll at the elementary school.  The boys started Tuesday.  Luke was dressed head to toe in University of Texas burnt orange.  The kid had to represent.  Did it pain me that he didn't choose maroon?  Hell, yes, but the kid wants to be just like his daddy.  (It's my hubby's only flaw) Clay was just excited to have chips in his lunch.  It was a good day. 

Fast forward to a week and a day later, and here's what I think....

First, I think I'm going to be really skinny by Valentine's Day because I'm about to start doing three-a-day workouts.  Unless I make some friends.  Fast.  I worked all week to get the house set up.  I took breaks to run, go to Jazzercise (Oh, how I missed you, Jazzercise), and Hobby Lobby, but other than that, I was working on getting the house set up.  By Friday night I realized that I really miss my girlfriends.  Here's hoping I find some God-worshiping, wine-loving, marathon-training, dog-loving, cussing friends soon!!!  I could join the PTO.....NAH!!!!  I'd rather run, go to the Y, or Jazzercise.

Second, I think I need more fleece.  I ran 4 miles on Wednesday and it was COLD AS BALLS.  Y'all, my snot froze to my face.  It was 28 degrees with a northern wind.  It was the kind of cold that makes you think you've peed your pants.  Luckily it's warmed up now and I was able to run in shorts and a t-shirt today.  Another added benefit?  People are finally taking their Christmas decorations down.  There's nothing sadder than a deflated Frosty Family in the front yard on January 16.  I'm just saying.  Don't be that person!

Third, my neighbors are nonexistent.  I have yet to see or meet one.  They all have dogs, but I think they  must just air-drop food on a regular basis.  My dogs talk to their dogs, but I haven't seen any humans.  

Stay tuned, my friends.  There are more tales to come...