Sunday, December 29, 2013

The Year In Review

I am not one who typically makes New Years's resolutions, simply because who really wants to see failure in black and white? I did make an exception for 2013,and I blogged my resolutions as a way to be accountable. I put them in black and white for the entire world to see, because if I was going to fail...go big or go home right? No pressure. In 2013 I resolved to...

*Be as accepting of myself as I am of my friends and family
. I made progress on this one, though I have a long way to go.

*Read at least three classic novels FAIL...however I did read several books.

*Add more print to my wardrobe, buy a pair of colored jeans,
actually wear said colored jeans in public, and to add
a variety of colors to my closet that aren't blue, black, or grey
Partial success...I added a lot of color, but the colored jeans did not happen. Well...not unless you count those dark blue ones and last time I looked dark blue was a color.

*Strive to achieve a fit mind, body and soul. I made several lifestyle changes this year, and I have to say that I feel like a whole new person. My goal for 2014 is to work on the mind aspect a little more.

*Learn to cook something I have never made before I blew this one out of the water. I used several ingredients I have never used before thanks to a few fellow foodie friends who have awesome Pinterest boards.

*Write at least 10,000 words in my book by mid summer I hit this one out of the park as well.

*Express thanks I have counted my blessings several times over and I have expressed sincere thanks to God, family and friends.

*See at least one musical either live or in the theater FAIL...unless you count the twenty minutes of The Sound Of Music that I watched when it aired on television.

*Get back to the basics It is ever a work in progress, and I am headed in the right direction.

*Accept the things I can not change, have the courage to change the things
I can and be wise enough to know the difference.
This is a tough one! It's the being wise enough to know the difference that gets me every time.

Being accountable has certainly helped me follow through. Now in 2014 I resolve to...

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A matter of Moments

Tonight is my last night to be a momma to a 10 year old. When Charli wakes up in the morning she will already be 11. It is remarkable that an entire decade has passed, looking back I see her life in a series of moments...except for the first 3 weeks of her life...those are a blur.


Her little yawn and baby breath
When she stopped breathing at 5 1/2 months old
When she said her first words
Our first trip to the bathroom because she threw her plate off the highchair at Steak and Shake when I told her to eat her French toast sticks. (Yes, she was only about 15 months old, and no she has never thrown another plate again. Yes, I am just as creeped out as you are that I remember what she ate for breakfast that day).
When she was 2 and took off across a parking lot and stopped about 4 feet before the sidewalk...past the sidewalk lay a 6 lane highway. (Yes, she got her booty spanked, afterwards I locked myself in a bathroom stall of the Best Buy in Valdosta, GA and bawled because she scared me so badly, and no she has never run across another parking lot since...oh and the reason I didn't have a hold of her hand is because she dropped her book, I let her hand go so she could pick it up and it happened that quick).
When she convinced me to buy her a potbellied pig and I convinced her father. Wilbur lived with us happily for 6 months until he got out of his enclosure and ran away.
The time she tossed the cat into our above ground pool with the inflatable ring, to see if he could swim...the cat survived...the pool...not so much.
Oh...when her Aunt Tracy let her do an art project with glitter in my kitchen when she was two...and I was cleaning up glitter for about 6 months afterward.
Her 5th birthday when we took her to Disney and the look on her face when they transformed her into Cinderella at the Bippity Boppity Boutique.
When she threw up on a field trip in the first grade because she had strep throat and I had no idea she was even sick. (Yes I chaperoned...thankfully).

Moments...I am so thankful for the highs and the lows, for every giggle and every tear, for skinned knees, strep throat, ear infections, and the best pediatrician on the planet. I'm thankful for all the sleepless nights, the cuddles, the rolling eyes, stomping feet, and lessons on the latest fashions. There was a time that we weren't even sure if we would be able to birth our own child...or have a child at all. I remember what life was like before Charli and life after Charli is so much more. My heart is filled to the brim. I am beyond blessed and I thank God every day that He picked me to be the mommy to my funny, sweet, stubborn, compassionate, creative, dramatic, sassy, loquacious sunshine girl.

Happy 11th birthday, baby bear...I love you to the moon and back again plus all the stars in the sky.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

More than a "Wrinkles" in time

We pose the same question to our children that once was posed to us when we were young...What do you want to be when you grow up? When I was a kid, my answer was always a teacher, a mommy, a writer. I did briefly want to be a pediatrician for about thirty seconds until I passed out at the foot of my mother's hospital bed sometime between ages 11 and 12. Do you know what I never wanted to be? A nurse. I know me, I know what I can handle and what I can't and I even knew it as a child. Bodily fluid, beeping machines, needles...yeah... that isn't for me, but God bless those that have made nursing their profession. I certainly have a deep appreciation for nurses.

Almost two weeks ago, my grandma broke her hip. She is getting rehabilitation at "the old folks home" as my daughter likes to call it. I see several nurses, and CNA's every day. I understand there is one of them and many more "old folks" that they are responsible to take care of. I get that it is a demanding, sometimes thankless job. In the whirlwind, I wonder if some working in the healthcare industry are even aware when they stop seeing their patients as people but merely a task to be accomplished so it can be checked off the list. My grandma is more than that sweet old lady down the hall, who had her TV set on the spanish channel, because she couldn't get to her remote. Grandma was born in 1926. She grew up in West Virgina and trust me, adios amigos is the extent of her knowledge of the spanish language. She is so much more than the person you see laying in the bed, or sitting in the wheelchair to eat dinner.

Grandma is...

Corn pops in coffee cups, porch swings, blue and white tricycles and the best scrambled eggs I've ever had. She is walks to the park, summer shorts made on her sewing machine, discipline in the form of fuzzy pink slippers, and the reason I hate hot dogs to this day. She is praying to Ernest, riding the horsey; 2, 4, 6, 8, Johnny had a little snake, and a "don't be that way or nobody will like you".

Grandma is...

Homemade peanut butter fudge, thumbprint cookies, banana pudding, Christmas lights and "let me hold that baby". She is the woman who wrote to seven guys in the service at the same time, the woman who had her first date with my grandpa at Camden Park, the woman who gave birth to five children and one half of the greatest love story I have ever known. She is "Lord bless you", all the love in the quilts she makes, the best green beans you will ever eat, and the precious woman I named my daughter after.

Grandma is more than the woman who pressed her button again for a pain pill because she forgot she just was given one 5 minutes before. She is more than the woman who doesn't complain...she doesn't like burnt toast any more than anybody else. She is more than a name on a chart. She is someone's widow, mother, sister,aunt, friend, grandmother, great grandmother, and great, great grandmother. She is the heartbeat of a family...I hope they add that to her chart.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

My beautiful eyes.

So there I am, curled in the crook of my husband's arm, head on his chest all set for Wednesday Night, date night. Criminal Minds...I refuse to watch it alone. A few minutes later, our bedroom is stormed by a force, also known as our 10 year old daughter. It goes something like this:
"Mommy...MY EYES...they burn." I ask all the routine questions. Did you get something in them? Shampoo? Soap?
"No, I was holding Murphy (the guinea pig) and put him back in his cage, then I rubbed my eyes and now they BURN!"
"So get a cold rag and put water in them."
So she wets her hands and scoops water into her eyes. Insert blood curdling, ear piercing, the house is on fire screams. I jump up out of bed and grab a towel for Charli, and wet it with cold water. I tell Mark to go grab the eyewash out of the other bathroom medicine cabinet. I have Charli sit on our bed. Her hands are fused to her eyeballs, and she is screaming like a tween at a One Direction Concert. So I did what any other good parent would do. I told Mark to hold her down so I could put the eyewash in her eyes. Next thing I know our house has turned into the WWE. It's full blown Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown on a Wednesday. We wrestled on the bed, then somehow ended up in the living room on the couch, Charli is screaming "I can't breathe!" Dogs are hiding, pretty sure the guinea pig almost had a stroke, expecting the cops to pound on our door any second, my eardrum was on the brink of bursting, so I yelled "FINE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" I was only trying to help but if she wanted to be stubborn, so be it. I channeled my mother and I threw the bottle of eyewash against the wall. (Yea, I know, not one of my finest Mommy moments, but this blog is real folks, so it is what it is.)
Charli is in her room crying, Mark and I are back in our room, where we attempt to resume Criminal Minds (thank the Lord for the invention of DVR). I suddenly make out what Charli is saying:
"Sweet Lord, help me." Then and this is the best part. She says "I don't wanna be blind."
You know that movie a Christmas Story? Do you remember Ralphie's little brother Randy? His whiny voice when he can't put his arms down in the snowsuit because he is bundled too tight? Well, Charli's voice sounds EXACTLY like Randy's at this point. Mark and I are horrible parents...because we are laughing. I'm not talking haha. Mark was rolling on the bed laughing. I am kegaling to beat the band, so I won't pee my pants.
Then I felt kind of we called Charli back to our room and I got her calmed down. She is saying random stuff and it's so funny because she is sitting with the rag over her eyes on my bed and she says:
"My beautiful eyes." (Which reminds me of a commercial you know the one.)
Her eyes finally stopped burning, and miraculously her eye I got the eyewash in feels much better then the one I didn't get it into. Alas, just when we think the drama is going to die out, her FACE starts burning. So being the concerned mom that I am, I turn to her and say "Do you think it has anything to do with crying your eyes out and screaming like a raging lunatic for the past 30 minutes? Hmm? Put a cold rag on your face, Daddy will get you an ice pack, and go get in bed."
She went to bed and Mark and I laughed and laughed over her Oscar worthy performance. Oh and her eyes are fine, turns out a good cry is a great way to flush them.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Time Flies...

"Time flies"'s so cliché. We say it often and are nonchalant about it. However, there are moments in life that you realize how true that statement is. Tomorrow my only child starts 5th grade and it boggles my mind, that this once tiny being who was a prayer I whispered for nightly against my pillow is starting her final year of elementary school. This tween whose height is even with the bump on my nose, is in fact the same little girl I sang to and rocked to sleep nearly every night until she was three years old. I am in shock that the sassy, shoe stealing, lip gloss wearing young lady, was once the little girl whose hand I let go of in a Denny's parking lot to pick up her book, the one who spilled glitter all over my kitchen, and the one who flashed the entire congregation during her preschool Christmas performance. I truly am in awe of how time flies. I realize...all that time...all those years...really are just little moments. Hundreds of little moments that have made up her young life, and the memories that live in the heart of her mother.

Tonight, on the eve of 5th grade, I will do something I haven't done since who knows when. I will pull out the storage container from her closet floor, and dig through the treasures that lay within it, and find her favorite book from when she was a toddler. I will crawl into her bed and read her a bedtime story. While she sleeps, I will make pancake batter, so when she wakes up tomorrow she can have chocolate chip pancakes made in the pan that is molded like the face of a pig. She will giggle and I will remember that the piggy shaped pancake, is reminiscent of her former obsession with obsession that began just before her fourth birthday when I took her to see the movie Charlotte's Web. I will create a moment, one that she may not remember, one that may be lost when I am yelling at her to hurry up or she is going to be late for school...but I will still create a moment nevertheless.

Tomorrow, I will pause for a few seconds and take it all in. I will take her picture on her first day of her last year of elementary school and I will allow it to sink in, and I will take notice that it is a moment in time...and time flies.

Friday, August 2, 2013

If blowing out candles on a birthday cake really made wishes come true...what would you wish for? Since today is my birthday, I began to wonder what I would wish for. A bigger house? A newer car? A better job? No. I have given it a great deal of thought. If I had three wishes...I would wish for...

* A time machine. I would have conversations with my younger self and instill the knowledge it took me 36 years to gain. I wouldn't undo any single event good or bad because... that would mean altering the course that is my life, a life in which I'm happy. I would just impart true being healthy has little to do with numbers on a scale, and that the most incredible blessings in life are the ones worth waiting for.

*The ability to recall memories and feel, see, touch, taste, hear and smell the moments just by thinking about them. I would think about my grandpa and be able to feel his arms around me, and breathe in the smell of garlic and Ben Gay. I would remember kissing my dad goodbye before school every morning, and feel the stubble on his cheek and the sound of his voice as he said "Love you, baby." I would think about the moments when the magic of life happens, the moments that are important, the ones that we don't even realize matter until we are looking back. I would be able to remember the way Charli smelled when she was a baby, the sound of her little toddler voice, and the feel of her hand in mine back when it was so much smaller.

*A "Beam Me Up Scotty" machine, big enough for me and a few friends...Seriously how cool would that be?! I could just step in a capsule and beam myself to Italy for a bottle of wine for dinner. My girls and I would never miss another book signing. I could go visit all the places on my bucket list with out the hassle of car or air travel. Yes a Scotty Machine indeed.

Thirty six certainly isn't old by any stretch, though when I was seventeen it seemed ancient. I have learned that sometimes you have to agree to disagree, especially when it comes to your family. I have learned that being able to let go of things helps you hold on to others. I have learned the value of true friendship and am blessed to have true friends. I have learned that regardless of how I would like certain people to take better care of themselves, I can't do it for them. Murphy's Law always applies and sometimes you need to be okay with where you are in order to get where you want to be. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.

Today is my birthday. I am content, well loved and happy. It is a very happy birthday.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Believe it...

The words swirl in my head, my fingers feverishly peck the keys, and my word count climbs higher by the second. I never dreamed of owning a farm with talking animals, when I was a kid. I had no desire to be president, or run away with the circus. I wanted to fall in love, get married, have babies, be a teacher, then later changed to being a writer. I didn't think it would take having my heart broken, not once by twice, (being a teenager sucked), before I met the man my childhood dreams were made of. I guess the third time really is a charm. I just assumed that I would have babies, an even number, like two, four, or six. The fact that I was blessed with one is a miracle. Somewhere along the way, from those childhood dreams to the word that invokes fear in many...reality...I grew up and became jaded. What once seemed possible, suddenly had a snow cone chance in Hades of ever happening.

I used to make up stories when I was a kid, to entertain my sister. I had always been the "creative one". I wrote poems, and stories, and in high school, I wrote for the school paper. I am not sure when it happened but sometime after I dipped my toe into the water of the real world, I stopped writing. Why? Life happens. You work, get married, have kids (or in my case a kid), and you pay the bills. Time slips away and you muddle through, one day rolling into the next. You do what needs to be done and you place the needs of your family above all else. You work at a job you no longer love, to provide for the family you do love. If you are lucky, you find a way, to let the person you wanted to be, become part of the person you are.

I never thought I would be in the midst of writing my first novel at 35 years old. Truth be told, I will be 36 in a few weeks. I mean I never thought...I would be in the midst of writing a freaking novel! How incredibly awesome is that?! You are never too old to become the person you were in your dreams. Go ahead, take an acting class or two. Dance like nobody is watching. Head to the batting cages. Go back to school. We teach our children that anything is possible, that with hard work and determination, they can make impossible dreams a reality. We say it to them with such conviction, and we don't doubt the words for a second. We don't doubt their ability to make it happen. Believe it for yourself... the way you believe it for your kids. Give yourself permission to be passionate about something.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

I think therefore I am...

I had no idea that when I got up yesterday morning, that the day just might have changed my life. My friend Julie and I headed down to a book festival in Orlando. We had the opportunity to meet several authors and listen to them speak. We had front row seats for Lisa Scottoline. Lisa is one of my favorite authors. You know how a book occasionally stays with you long after you have read it? Well, Lisa wrote a book called "Save Me" and if you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. This story gets inside you and it makes you look at who you are, your personal truth. When a "What if..." question is posed, we often strive to give the "politcally correct answer", the answer that our society and a group of our peers would approve of. What if nobody was looking though? Who would you save? Would you sacrifice the life of another to spare someone you love? Lisa's stories force you to really look beyond the surface, to search the corners of your soul, and sometimes the truth surprises you.

There is a question and answer session at the end of each authors symposium.
"How do you overcome writers block?" This was the question I chose to ask of Lisa Scottoline. Now I was expecting Lisa's answer to be something profound, earth moving, or life altering. Her response was simply,"You just write." Ok...hold the bus! So I just write? Good or bad? As long as I can hold a pencil or peck my laptop keys...I just write? There are no rules for a rough draft, good or bad,... you just write! I discovered that advice is somewhat of an "a-ha moment" for me.

So here I go...good or bad I shall open up my saved documents, and just write. Writing has always been a part of me. I am a writer so I shall write!

Saturday, March 9, 2013

No laughing matter

It's 3AM and I have the urge to crawl out of my skin. Most women have fantasies that include Channing Tatum, some other Hollywood hottie or their own husbands. These days I fantasize about removing my ovaries...with a scapel. I have endometriosis. I assume most women of reproductive age know what it is but in case you don't...I will give you the medical definition.

Endometriosis is a gynecological condition. The tissue that lines the uterus, (the endometrium), is found only in the uterus and is expelled from the body with each menstrual cycle. When a woman develops endometriosis, microscopic bits of this tissue escape from the uterus backwards into the abdomen and stick and grow on other pelvic areas in the abdomenal region. It's chronic,painful and progressive, though there are treatments, there is no cure. Endometriosis is a known cause of infertility. We planned on having 2-4 kids and now you all know why Charli is an only child. Some women are able to have more children...for us, my daughter's existance is a miracle.

My endometriosis was "offically" diagnoised at 20 years old through laproscopic surgery, though it is strongly suspected I have had it since I was 17 years old. I have dealt with endo for so long that it is (literally) a part of me, like the two birthmarks on my left leg that are diagional from each other, or the scar on my right hand. My personal mantra is "Suck it up, and deal". I have spent many years sucking it up and dealing...these days it is getting harder to do that. I do my best not to complain because complaining changes nothing. I slip the mask in place and it typically works like a charm. The only people who see through it are my husband, my mother, and those few friends who are my inner circle. I am tough...lately though, this disease is kicking my butt. I have had 3 laproscopies in 13 years. Birth control pills don't really work for me, and being as I am only 35 a hysterectomy is out of the question. Now what is a girl to do?

I have a very dear friend who has truly been a God send in my life. She inspires me and most of all, she always meets me where I am on this journey. At this point I have pretty much exhausted what can be done medically speaking. I have tried a few alternative things like herbs and making changes in my diet with some success. There is something called an Endo diet and given my circumstances as of late, I figure it's with a try. Acupunture is also on my list. When my dear friend asked me if I ever thought about acupuncture the the other day, I shot down the idea immediately...for about 20 seconds. I realize that looking into the option of acupunture doesn't make me the condutor of the crazy train. I am desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures and it seems like a much better idea than self inflicted ovary removal.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Life after I Do...

I am one of those girls who thinks I can do it all and my wedding day was no different. Make a grooms cake? (Of course, and it was in the shape of a race car, thank you very much!) Pick up my wedding cake on the way to the church? (Sure, why not?!) Relieve myself (in a very tiny bathroom) while holding up a wedding dress that weighed fifty pounds and crinoline that was poofy enough to fit every fairy godmother from every fairytale ever written underneath it? (I did, it was certainly a challenge but I managed to pull it off without giving myself a "swirlie"). Where was this David Tutera fellow back then I ask you?

The girls walked up the isle to "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. I managed to keep my tears at bay until my Dad knelt down to straighten the train on my dress. In my sister's haste to get up the isle she forgot. Mark and I did one thing that is very different from any other wedding I have ever been to. We stood so we were facing our family and friends and our Pastor's back was the the crowd. The ceremony was beautiful (I don't even think anyone noticed the button when it flew off the back of my sister's dress and landed across the church), the candle lighting, our vows and that! Mark dipped me and that Cinderella dress in Fred and Ginger fashion and kissed me until my knees were weak.

Mark was in charge of packing for our honeymoon. We were young (I was 20 and he was 24) and we didn't own a single piece of luggage. Mark handled it with the help of Hefty...yes as in "hefty, hefty, cinch sack". He packed our clothes for the honeymoon in a trash bag!!! (Umm Hello...David Tutera?) The depths of Mark's helpfulness is unlimited, so he took all the cards from our wishing well AND all the cards off every package before the gifts were ever opened so I had no idea who to thank for what! I should mention by the time we left for our honeymoon, our guests had already gone home. Our close family and the clean up crew were so busy that nobody really witnessed the whole card debacle. I have thought back to our wedding many times over the years and it brings a smile to my face and makes me giggle.

It isn't so much the wedding that matters. What is important... is life after you say I do. The last 15 years have certainly been filled with laughter and tears, but I can honestly say we have had more laughter than tears. I am blessed to have such a remarkable husband. I hope we have at least 50 more years together. cup runneth over.

Thursday, January 17, 2013


Picture mothers kitchen 1990 something. The walls of my parents galley kitchen were painted this horrible bright lemon yellow. Mom loved it, I guess she was going through a phase. It was raining outside, storming to beat the band. My mom asked me to go make a pot of tea and my daddy was in the kitchen making zucchini bread... from scratch with the zucchini fresh from his garden. He had just finished shredding the zucchini and walked around with his chest puffed out, proud as a peacock getting in touch with his inner Betty Crocker. I went into the kitchen to start the tea, turning on the stove burner (paying no mind to the glass casserole baking dish sitting on top of the stove) I always used when I made tea. I went to the sink and filled the pot with water. My parents had been watching Die Hard 2 on VHS...are you feeling old now? There I am in the kitchen looking out the window waiting on the pot to fill when... thunder crashes, lighting strikes, Bruce blows up the plane and that glass casserole dish explodes all simultaneously. Shards of glass rained down like pieces of crystal snow into my Dad's grated zucchini. The proud peacock scooped me up out of the kitchen (my daddy was not a very big man but he was strong as an ox) and carried me over the tile and got me onto the carpet in the dining room. Mom jumped up and I scurried to the bathroom, (white as a ghost and tears streaming down my face). Mom came in checking to make sure I wasn't cut. I did have a piece of glass in my foot but I was really no worse for wear. I shaved about 5 years off everyones life, nobody can ever watch Die Hard in our family without thinking of that story (laughing at my expense)and my Dad never attempted to make zucchini bread again while I lived under their roof. In fact I remember one time well after I got married when I called my parents and my dad says "Hey kid, you coming out today?" I replied "No, Dad not today why?" He said "Because I'm makin' zucchini bread." He laughed and laughed. True story folks, I can't make this stuff up.

Last week I was whipping up chicken salsa. I preheated the oven, laid my boneless skinless chicken breast in a glass casserole dish, poured my organic salsa over it and put it in the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes. I went into my bedroom and five minutes later I heard this ungodly explosion. I ran to the kitchen, opened the oven door and 2 pieces of glass flew out and one of them hit me...bullseye, right in the leg. I didn't get cut, I was just ticked. I really wanted that chicken! I called Mark and because he knows the zucchini story, first like a good husband he asked if I was okay, when I assured him I was... Mark started laughing...not haha but belly laughing, hard! You know, laughing so hard you are grasping for breath laughing? Needless to say we had pizza that night for dinner. As for my explosive knack with glass casserole dishes...well in the words of John McClaine "Yippy ki ay" :)

Don't feed the monster...

We have a saying in our house that I borrowed from a friend...Don't feed the monster. Charli had a meltdown at the dentist yesterday, clamped her mouth shut and flat out REFUSED to let the hygenist finish cleaning her teeth. This has never happened before. The hygenist had to come and get me. I walk into the room and there is my daughter watching TV, mouth tightly shut, and her eyes red from crying.

Let me stop a moment to give a little back story: The day was hectic. I had to leave work, pick her up from school and have her to the orthodontist by 2:10 to get her wire for her braces removed before taking her to the dentist. The dentist office is 35 minutes from her orthodontist office. Then after the dentist I had to get her back to the orthodontist to have the wire put back in as her orthodontist's office wouldn't be open again until Tuesday. I also needed to pick up hog feed, run and buy dog food and swing back by work to drop it off as I knew there was a possiblilty I would be off to enjoy an extended weekend while there is no school between teacher work days and the MLK holiday. The point is we were in a major time crunch.

I stood over Charli while she was reclined in the seat and made up my mind that I wasn't going to feed the monster. I looked down at her and told her that she needed to open her mouth and finish her cleaning...period. Do you know what my precious daughter did? She stuck her tongue out at me in front of her dentist and hygenist!!! (I am sure your perfect children would never do such a thing but my kid missed the memo regarding sticking her tongue out at her mother). I was stunned but I recovered quickly, tied my supermom cape a little tighter and I asked her if she wanted me to pop that tongue back in her mouth. I then said " Do not think just because we are in public that I won't escort you into the bathroom young lady! Open your mouth NOW and let her finish so we can go!" There was no coaxing, bribing or anything of the kind. She opened her mouth (granted not happily) and we were out of there 10 mintutes later. I did find out from her dentist that she had 2 tiny cavaties! Blah (Oral-B super brusher? Nope...guess not)

I decided since I moved her dentist appointment up and it was currently 3:33, I was going to press my luck and drive to get the hog feed (which is located halfway to B.F.E.), prior to heading back to the orthodontist. I also had to stop for gas because I was running on fumes. I made it to the ortho at 4:41. We were out of there at 4:55. I stopped to pick up the dog food, called the bosses' gave them the run down, and went back to work to drop off the feed and dog food. I unloaded 200 lbs of hog feed (50 lb bags...yep little heavy) and put away the dog food. Charli and I left rejoicing in the fact that I would have a long weekend off work while she was out of school.

Don't feed the monster simply means, I am not going to fuel the bad behavior. I am also not going to bargin or bribe a 10 year old. Ode to to schedule her filling appointment. I am pretty sure Mark will be off that day :D

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Love and Marriage

I remember watching them as a little girl. How my grandpa's eyes would twinkle, and how my grandma would randomly curl up in his lap. They had quite the love story, my grandparents. They were survivors. My grandparents loved each other through the birth of five children (and the death of one),through sickness, in good times and difficult times. They prayed for each other, and kissed goodnight. My grandparents were my hope that one day I would grow up and have somebody to love me and that I would have somebody to love, like those two loved each other. My grandparents would have been married 64 years yesterday but my grandpa passed three weeks before their 47th wedding anniversary. I was 18 years old when he died. I had no idea how much I would come to appreciate him and my grandma in the years that have followed. Growing up, times were hard but grandma and grandpa were a constant example of love and unwavering faith.
It is hard to believe that Mark and I will be married for 15 years on 02/07/2013. I am blessed beyond measure and so grateful that God brought such an amazing man into my life. He has loved me through the good, bad and the ugly. He has loved me through our fertility struggles, the death of my dad, and all the craziness that I get myself caught up in. Mark has encouraged me, prayed over me, and believed in me, when I haven't had much faith in myself. He is my loudest cheerleader, my biggest fan. He sees me at my worst and tells me I am beautiful. We can find each other across a crowded room and have a conversation without words. Mark is my happily ever after. I am thankful to God for the good times, the tough times and all the times in between. It is all those moments that make up a lifetime...of loving each other.