Sunday Letters, because I was too lazy Friday {Instagram}

    Dear Friday, Yeah. You happened. You were once the shining glory of days of the week. Now you are my longest day ever. It's fine. I'm fine. We're going to be fine. TGIF. For who?  

 

Dear Terrible Twos,

I don't have enough words.

Just know this isn't over.

I won't give up.

 

 

 

Dear Tina,

You are my idol.

When I grow up I want to be you.

And with the stellar example you set,

there is still time for all my dreams.

Thanks sassy lady.

Keep bringing it.

 

 

Dear Color me Rad,

That paint stuff was fun while it lasted.

I wasn't sure it was going to come clean.

I was even resigned to being the Hulk for Halloween.

Oh, cool, never mind.

 

Dear Dove soap (white bar),

I will never again question you abilities.

I will never think a body wash is better than you.

You are in fact a classic.

 



 

Dear Halloween,

I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!!!!

 

 

Dear Mac,

This is my favorite thing right now.

You find a pillow, a comfy spot,

and you crash.

The only thing that could make this situation perfect,

is if this happend at 2 pm instead of 5pm.

 

 

Dear Kristen,

You are my newest blog crush.

I just read your FAQ page and fell out of my chair.

Yes, I'm now a firm believer that

Suri came out of Tom's va-jay.

Also because I love RR and only picture him as Van Wilder.

Plus your comments kick my ass.

I'm sold and smitten.

Like a 7th grader begging for a signature my yearbook.

#KIT

    Dear Sunday, Congrats on hosting the "letters" today. I'm sorry that I've ignored you most weekends, but sometimes I really need you to work a shift. Today is one of those days. Thanks for taking one for the team. By the way, there may be a change in your schedule. XOXO        

Absolute Marriage {a conversation}

 

I find it increasingly hard to have a conversation with the Hubbs these days.

 

Especially in the car.

 

Is it because the space is so small that your kids are just louder than usual?

 

In any case we were trying to have a conversation about a million things.

 

Like speed dating, only you are already married.

And the conversations are about things like

the husbands work day, what the kids ate for dinner (nothing),

and why are we going to Target again?

 

Of course the kids were "mom, mom, mom"-ing me.

 

So before I could (scream) say, "WHAT?",

the hubbs said,

 

"Do you know why they say mom like that?

Because you ignore them".

 

To which I replied,

"Walk a mile in my shoes, just one mile".

 

His reply,

 

"Would that be your black flip flops, your black flip flops,

or your black flip flops".

 

Like I've said before,

it's hard to stay mad at someone who makes you laugh.

     

circa 2008

   

Wore: Color Me Rad

 

I did it friends.

I ran.

Not a 5k, but

somewhere around 1.9 to 2.2 miles.

Depending on who you ask.

It doesn't matter.

The point is...

I RAN THE ENTIRE TIME.

 

Sure my running stride was my BFs walking stride.

She is six inches taller than me by the way.

Also there were hills.

HILLS.

No one said anything about hills.

 

No bother.

I was ready to go.

All decked out in white.

That was soon to be colored with radness.

 

Right before I jumped in the shower.

 

It was so much fun.

I don't think I ever stopped smiling.

Not only were some really great friends in attendance,

but I was meeting and defeating a goal.

 

Running along side my BF was the ultimate motivator.

Crossing the finish line with her was a thrill.

It was the first "race" for each of us.

Something we use to laugh about.

We aren't laughing anymore.

She thinks I'm a rock star.

I think she's one too.

This was all her idea.

I'm so glad she likes to jump in head first into life.

 

 

It was a fantastic day for many reasons.

The biggest being that I actually ran, because

this time last year I was very sick.

I had just finished an antibiotic course for H.pylori.

Which left me weak, fatigued, 10 pounds lighter,

and quite frankly, depressed.

I stayed that way for the rest of Fall and Winter.

It took everything I had to get out of bed,

get dressed, even to eat.

 

A year ago, exercise, let alone, running seemed like a joke.

I thought exercise wasn't something I'd ever feel like doing again.

Plus, I've never been a runner.

Never.

I'd always get out of it in school.

I even laughed at the thought of sigining up for this event.

 

A year ago, I thought my body was giving up.

After two kids and years of chronic illness I thought this may just be my way of life.

Being chronically ill was just something I'd have to live with.

 

A year ago, running was a hilarious thought.

Running just wasn't my cup of tea.

 

Until it was.

 

Finish line smile.

 

 

Two must be terrible...

 

 

Pinterest / Here

 

 

Excuse the "F" bomb, but shiz just got real.

 

Miss Mac is in the thick of it.  At 2.5 years, her whole life is currently a shiz show.  I feel like she wakes up mid tantrum and goes to bed mid tantrum.  Let's not forget the screaming, oh, the screaming.  For every little thing.  Can't get her shoe on?  Scream.  Can't get a little people van out of the toy box?  Scream.  Ask to watch Nemo, but then really want Yo Gabba Gabba?  Scream.  It's never ending.

 

This isn't to say she's an unhappy kid.  I think she is just frustrated, like all the "books" say.  So last week I decided to put myself in her shoes.  Look at the world from Mac's point of view. 

 

Here is what I found.

 

It must be a complete drag to shiz your pants.  I mean really.  Think about how hard it must be to just decide to poop, and then go ahead an poop where you stand.  All that trouble of never having to find a toilet.  Seriously, how does a two year old live this way?

 

It also has to be a cramp in your ass to have someone stop you to change said poop pants.  How rude, to be interrupted mid tea party with Elmo, to have someone change your pants.  Ugh, can't we just sit here and finish this Dora episode?  We really need to see if Dora can get Tico to "Tall Mountain".

 

Also I think that when you are two, it must be horrible to have some authority figure force you to bed.  Can you imagine someone hounding, begging, and bribing you to go to bed in the middle of the day?  Ugh, the injustice of it all!  The threats and the time outs alone are enough to drive a person mad, but then throw in mandatory sleeping?  Wow.  And then, if you do give in, and sleep just a little, that's not enough for the authority figures in your life.  They make you do it all over again when the sun goes down.

 

Speaking of time out.  I know that when I'm totally pissed off, the last thing I want to do is go sit on some dumb ass chair/rug/spot on the floor, and quietly think about what/who just pissed me off.  When you are two, this must be the mind "F" of all time.  I'm sure that my own two year old has her own baby language of obscenities that she throws at me along with her death stares, while I make her "think about" her actions.  Her actions being that she just lost her "shiz" because Barbie won't fit in the My Little Pony Car. 

 

In my opinion the worst part about being two is the never ending choices of food.  Someone is always making something for you to eat, and then if you don't like it they make something else.  And right away too.  It must be super hard to say no to roast chicken and mashed potatoes, then grilled cheese, and finally a hot dog.  So hard in fact that in the end we decide on goldfish crackers and string cheese.  I can't even imagine what that's like.

 

Like I said, being two must be the hardest part of growing up.  All the sleeping, the rude diaper changers, the short order cooks.  No wonder Mac is a walking time bomb.  From her point of view I can now understand all the injustices of being two.  I'll be able to better understand next time she throws her icee at me from the Target cart while I look for the right sized diapers for her precious bottom. 

 

 

Isn't two just terrible?

 

 

When I was 10 {Looking Back 1988}

 

  In 1988 I was 10. What I remember most about 1988 was our family trip to Disneyland. Mom, Dad, Aunt Marilyn, and I road tripping to the happiest place on earth. We went to Disneyland, Universal Studios, and Knott's Berry Farm. It was a blast! Even the crazy bus trip to Universal which seemed like the longest day ever! We had a great time even though we went in the Summer, and had to endure long lines. Star Tours was totally worth the 3 hour wait all three times. I'm deadly serious.  

 

I'm telling you that when you are 10, perms are the coolest.

Don't I look cool?

Everyone had that hair right?

What the (blank) was I thinking?

 

This off center picture was taken by me.

With my first 35mm (google it).

It was so cool too, grey with a purple strap.

I thought I was the best photographer, and I have a billion pics

of the parade, the rides and random tourists.

Not much has changed.

I still take crooked pictures!

 

 

This is a rite of passage at the Happiest Place on Earth.

I think everyone who has visited Disneyland has a picture similar to this.

I can't wait to get a picture of my girls here.

It doesn't matter how old I get, when I see this at the front gates,

I turn into a kid again!!

  ****************** There is one more thing that reminds me of 1988. It was the last year I felt good about myself. After this amazing Disneyland trip, I started 5th grade. In 5th grade everything changes. I remember that this was the last summer I wasn't worried about being chubby. After this summer, I was called fat. I started weighing myself. I started eating salads. I was concerned with calories. Not what a 10 going on 11 year old should be concerned about. This was the last time my I'd like what I looked like in the mirror, or pictures. I wouldn't wear my hair this short for years, in fear of my chubby round face looking rounder. Looking back the perm seems pretty bad, but what was worse is that that girl lost that blissful feeling being just a girl with a bad perm and a big smile.   Dear 10 year old me, Don't sweat it. Those cheeks go away. Everyone will have that perm. Those mean girls get fat when they are old. You do not. And you get boobs. Your Welcome!   Want to have some fun? Join us and link up your 1988 stories!