Because Monday...

This post is the child of laziness and whatever the opposite of motivation turns out to be. I've been enjoying my days off to their fullest extent, sometimes staying in my pajamas way past an acceptable afternoon hour. I've been watching everything in my DVR. Twice (like the Mindy Project season finale. Twice). I've been letting my kids do whatever their hearts desire, including eating Cheetos for breakfast and starburst for dinner. They also play with every toy they own while I have completely lost myself in two books in less than a week. Book two is over five hundred pages, so you can see pulling myself away to actually write something hasn't been easy. But the crazy part... When you read a really good book, it inspires you to do some really good writing. So it's on the horizon friends, I can feel it. But since laziness and hindrance (I did a quick Google search for the opposite of motivation) had a baby that is this post, you get a nice photo dump of what I've been up to when I'm not lost in a book or watching True Blood.

Because...

My gorgeously photogenic daughter who will smile on demand and ask for nothing in return. Sure we are in the drive thru at McDonald's so this smile might be about the food. I'll take it anyway.

The flip side to that is that Mac could give two effs about your selfies and or Happy Meals.

Olive pants that I didn't realize I loved until January. Sorry that you spent four years in my closet just hanging out. I'll make it up to you.

Books that I can't afford at the moment, but thanks to Apple and iPhone I can take pictures of all the books and then remember to buy them when I need something to read. Tell me I'm not the only person who does this.

Target shenanigans. Icees and cookies will do that to the tiny humans. All I asked was that they smile pretty for the camera. Jokes on me.

 Again. It's like we aren't even trying anymore...

But wait, this one isn't really staged. They are actually this excited about grocery shopping after seven pm at Walmart. Because Fresno is hot and grocery shopping is awful, and when you have to grocery shop when it's 109 outside, disaster happens. So we wait and go right before the sun goes down. Plus everyone knows McDonald's ice cream cones taste best after eight pm.

 Because this man knows the way into my heart. He makes everything an adventure. 

Because, "Mommy, I have a beard". Obviously.

Yes. The Hubbs asks for pictures after every wax appointment. And that picture of Grumpy Cat was my attempt at a "before" shot. I hope you all get that joke...

I have to be at work every Friday at six am. So this sums up every Friday morning.

We got a night out with friends to see 22 Jump Street. I'm just going to say that Ice Cube is the best damn thing about that movie. And that's saying a lot since Channing Tatum is in it too.

Because the Hubbs said that no "moos" aka maxi skirts were allowed on date night. He wanted me to wear something that showed off my legs, a common request of his. So I picked out jean shorts and this fabulous tank top from Target. Be careful what you wish for... Your wife may show up in a tank top covered in cats.

It's the most wonderful time of the year... I'm the biggest nerd, but this section of Target smells like flowers and unicorns and Butterbeer. 

My Dad had a birthday and I took a picture of my parents after dinner. Let's discuss these amazing people. One, my Dad is wearing a shirt that says, "Feeling Dirty". Two, the shirt was a gift from my Husband when he was my boyfriend after his Fraternity Mud Volleyball game. Three, my mom has lost thirty pounds since her surgery in May and is feeling better every day. Four, I posted this on Facebook and my Dad got so many birthday wishes from my friends and his. He doesn't even have a Facebook... He's way too cool for that. 

I took a bitch quiz on Facebook. Let's just say I passed.

My Husband thinks I should wear a bikini

I posted a picture of myself on Instagram last week wearing a maternity tankini top. No I'm not pregnant, there is no big announcement around here. It's just that I have a belly. I've always had one. The battle with my belly has been a life long war I've waged with myself. These days it seems to be getting worse as Mackenzie has taken to talking to it. Telling me that there is a baby in there, and I just keep responding with "Nope, it's just food". Because no matter how hard I try, I think after two kids, three years of being super sick, and almost three years on the Paleo diet, my body has finally settled into itself. I weigh what I weighed before Mackenzie. My hips and thighs are fuller than they have ever been, and my belly, well my belly is pretty much the same one I've been carrying around since high school. 

The funny thing about this whole "body acceptance" journey is that my Husband, the Hubbs, still thinks I should be strutting around in a bikini. He asked me a few weekends ago while I was getting ready to go swim at my mom's house, why I didn't wear a regular bikini. I laughed at him. Like, stopped what I was doing at laughed. Then I lifted up my shirt and said, "Have you seen this lately?", while I grabbed a handful of my middle. "Yeah, so?", was his only reaction. So? So? So I'm not showing off this belly to anyone but you mister! 

But his reaction to my "bikini ready body" got me thinking. This man, my Hubbs, still thinks I have a rocking body. Even after two kids and two attempts at breastfeeding. He still wants me and this body, the stretch marks and flab do not sway his devotion to this body. And though his attempts to grab my boobs while I try to flip pancakes on a Sunday morning annoys me to no end, there is something very sacred about my husband still enjoying this thirty six year old flabby, saggy body. There is something very poetic about him still wanting me as if I was that twenty one year old sorority girl he met almost fifteen years ago. 

Because fifteen years ago I was so worried about the way my belly pooched. I was so worried about my arm flab and my boobs not looking like a super model's. Fifteen years ago I kept my eyes closed because I didn't want to see him looking at my imperfections. I was always so worried about my body and how it looked to him. It's only now I realize he didn't see a single imperfection. And blessedly he still doesn't, if anything I think he appreciates and enjoys it more now than ever.

Last week my best friend told me I should go for it and rock that bikini. Again I laughed. She said "Didn't you read that lady's blog post", and I said yeah I did, but I'm still wearing this. Because I'm not ready for a bikini. I may never be, and I've accepted that. I've accepted that maybe this is what I'm supposed to look like. That this is the size I'm supposed to be. I finally realize that all that really matters is that I like it, and the Hubbs likes it. I may not be comfortable in a bikini but I'm totally comfortable with that.

The Hubbs thinks I should wear a bikini... God Bless him. 

When we are seven

When we are seven we will celebrate with sparklers in the front yard. One in each hand. We will never want to comb our hair or take a bath. We will insist on taking showers and using bar soap instead of "baby soap". Summer will be upon us and there will be no such thing as dinner time or bed time or sensible breakfasts. When we are seven everything will be negotiable.

When we are seven we will enjoy cinnamon roll cakes, with pink candles. One for each year. And we will smile really big and blow them all out on the first try. When we are seven two cinnamon rolls will never be enough and we will sneak in a third before anyone finds out.

When we are seven accessories will matter. Things like "birthday money" will exist. And when we are asked where we would like to eat on our birthday, we will pick "fancy" big people restaurants, like Cheesecake Factory. When we are seven, we will be ladies who lunch.

When we are seven we will order for ourselves in a restaurant. And we will politely ask the waitress to not sing when they bring our birthday sundae. The waitress will be so impressed by our manners. When we are seven, we will finish our sundae in three bites.

When we are seven will will not longer need swimmies or floaties. We will no longer need our pink ring to help us get from one side of the pool to the other. All we will need are braids in our hair and goggles on our faces. When we are seven we will swim like a fish and jump in the deep end yelling "Cannonball".

When we are seven we will have a best friend. We will laugh and fight with her just like we would if she was a sister. We will share things like dolls and cards and make up and loom bracelets. We will let her stand next to us as we blow out our birthday candles. When we are seven we will enjoy funfetti cakes with chocolate frosting in our front yard with the neighborhood.

When we are seven we will dress like a famous princess and sing off key. We will pretend that we can make ice come out of our palms. We will wear high heels and lip gloss and braid our hair fantastically. When we are seven, nothing is impossible when we are a princess.

 

When we are seven, the dark days will seem so far away. We will forget that for a time in our life it was hard, and we cried a lot. We will miss those middle of the night wake up calls and instead of thinking they were horrendous, we will remember them fondly. When we are seven we will realize that we have come so far in such a small amount of time. 

When we are seven we will finally find that sweet spot we have been looking for all along.

pinable

Fourteen on the fourth

Fourteen years ago if you would have told me I'd stand in the exact spot, watching a pool full of children, mine included, instead of a pool filled with drunk twenty somethings I would have called you a liar. Fourteen years ago I was twenty two, and helplessly in love with a man-child I was afraid would never love me as much as I loved him. I drank and smoked and went about love in all the wrong ways. Fourteen years ago, I celebrated the fourth of July drunk and careless, wasting the day away in my future father in law's pool, sometimes topless. I know, right? Way to make a first impression. But I was so young and so stupid and so afraid that the summer would end, and with it the wild and insane love affair I was having with a guy who kept me guessing.

But the years passed and the wild and insane love affair ebbed and flowed and soon the man-child was grown. Before we knew what happened we had spent five fourth of Julys in my father in law's back yard. This time with less booze and more clothes. Soon children began to join us and one year, one of those kids was ours. And time ticked by, and we got older, and when I woke on Friday morning, I let all those fourths sink in. We are here. In this spot I only dared to dream fourteen years ago. 

Our daughters know of no other celebration. They celebrate the fourth in Grandpa's backyard, swimming in his pool, drinking Dr. Peppers, eating ice cream sandwiches, and sitting through three hundred dollars worth of fireworks. They know nothing of past discretions or heartaches or fights that took place over the last beer. All they know is that this is what we do. We. All four of us. Which is completely crazy and such a novel idea since some days I wake and wonder if I'm still that twenty two year old dummy chasing love in all the wrong directions. Then I fully wake and remember that I'm home. I'm here. And it's real. The Hubbs is at work, my kids are asleep, and I'm more whole than I've ever been.

Fourteen years ago, I would have never dreamed of a day as wonderful as Friday. I never knew I wanted such things all those years ago. Two daughters. Friends that have become family. Moms and Dads who are now Grandmas and Grandpas. Beer bottles co-mingle with Capri Sun pouches. Adults turn into kids again at the sight of sparklers, and the kids enjoy them as if for the first time. Fourteen years ago I was only sure of one thing: I wanted to be John's wife. At the time it seemed like just a pipe dream, but today it seems silly that I ever worried about spending the next thirteen fourth of Julys any other way.

July fourth is about America and Independence. It's a great celebration for a great nation. But it's also the celebration of a dream I once had. Fourteen years ago.

Taking Stock {seven-one-fourteen}

I've seen this post on many of my favorite blogs, and honestly, for lack of inspiration I needed some direction. Writing has been really hard for me lately. Bringing myself to the computer has been challenging. Today I couldn't think of a thing to write about, but this kind of a post forces you to do the thinking. Guess what? It totally helped. Now I'm not saying I'm now inspired to write the great American novel, but I've found a way out of my rut. Try it out, and see if it brings you some inspiration. 

gratuitous selfie

Making: 

Jam. Yes, jam. Because I bought strawberries at Costco and they were over ripe to begin with so thanks to Pinterest, it’s really easy to make jam with your kids.

Cooking:

Dinner. Maybe. It’s 105 outside and turning on the oven seems like a really bad idea...

Drinking:

Lots and lots of water. Because I hear it’s good for you.

Reading:

The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer. But I’m pretty sure as soon as my Kindle is charged, the Interestings will take a back seat to Sinner by Maggie Stiefvater. I’m so excited for this YA novel it’s sick. But I think YA novels are a sickness in general. The guiltiest of pleasures.

Wanting:

A beach vacation. Even if it’s just for the day. I’ve learned that a change of scenery always does this family some good.

Looking:

At Instagram. Always.

Playing:

Pandora as a write this. Because music is where I get most of my inspiration.

Wasting:

All my days off on old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that they play on Lifetime. Time on things like social media. Days being in the moment instead of writing about those moments. The writers blog and all around malaise towards writing will hopefully go aways soon.

Wishing:

That carrots tasted like chocolate.

Enjoying:

These lazy summer days with my girls. Days in our pajamas. Target trips for nothing in particular. Serving ice cream for dinner.

Waiting:

On inspiration and motivation to move back into my life.

Liking:

That last bit of light before the sun goes down. Where the sky can’t decide if it’s pink or blue.

Wondering:

If I will ever fully commit myself to my writing. If I will ever be brave and start writing the book I’ve always wanted to.

Loving:

Frozen mango. I know, sounds weird, but it’s really delicious. Nights spent in the front yard with neighbors that are now friends, and watching our kids play. Stolen moments with the Hubbs.

Hoping:

That I can talk myself into working out again.

Marveling:

That my two daughters are seven and four. Seven. and Four. What?

Needing:

More sleep. More time. A personal chef, house cleaner, and laundry folder. Don’t you think laundry folders would make a killing? Because everyone hates to fold their own laundry.

Smelling:

Chlorine on my babies as they fall asleep after summer days spent poolside at Grandmas.

Wearing:

A maxi skirt, because I can’t be bothered with shaving legs. Or showers. Or getting my shit together in general.

Following:

Macklemore on Instagram. Because he post pictures of his cat sleeping in a box. And also because my BF always tags me so I can see said cats in boxes.

Noticing:

That I like an unscheduled life so much better.

Knowing:

that I need to get off this computer and get out of the house.

Thinking:

About the short story that I started writing. And realizing it’s going to be an actual story.

Pinning:

Lots of Harry Potter memes. Inspirational quotes. And things that make me laugh.

Giggling:

With the Hubbs at Walmart.

Feeling:

Like there is a change brewing. For better or worse, I'll have to weather it.

What will you take stock of this month? If you write a post like this, please leave your link in the comments. I'd love to read it.

Source www.simplyalli.com

and http://meetmeatmikes.com/2013/08/taking-stock/