On Growing Up

At Home, Weeks 1 & 2

2020-03-27T09:58:00.001-05:00

It's been 10 days since I've been into a store. Well, anywhere really.
That's probably a record for me.
So, it's been 10 days since I've been around lots of people. Even on my last shopping adventure, I encountered maybe 5 folks at the Dollar Tree.

While I haven't gone crazy yet, there have been some close calls.
This is where the Husb would interject some emphatic comment to confirm that I've gotten testy at times.
But overall, we're hanging on, and I hope you are, too.

This forced shut down feels like I'm living the narrative of one of those dystopian novels on my bookshelf. I've read about all this before. I've even seen movies. But never did I dream that it could be real.

Weeks ago, the school system I work for started developing a closure plan. When teachers were asked to create lesson plans to use in the event of a shutdown, I remember saying something along the lines of "oh, we'll never need these."

Hmm.

So here I sit on a...Thursday morning? No, Friday.
So here I sit on a Friday morning, sifting through emails, responding, checking assignments, arranging video conferencing with my students.
Feeling overwhelmed. Confused. Out of my depth.
I thought I was ok with this school shut down and being asked to keep away from large crowds (#Introvert'sDream). But I'm not.

I miss ease.
I miss structure.
I miss my students.
I miss my coworkers.

All of the question marks can easily lead to tears. But that's not useful, especially when I have one incredibly nosy, ahem, observant student here with me.

So instead, I offer this.
My struggles and successes.
My fun and probably some of my fury.
My account of Spring 2020.

March 17-27, 2020

As with most endeavors, we started strong. We made a picture schedule for LC to loosely follow. It worked great! And we followed it....for one day.

It's easy to get wrapped up in all of the tough things that go along with this quarantine, but we're looking for the silver linings - and even trying to make some of our own. In the last two weeks, we've seen folks out walking that we've never seen before! And lots of them have told us how much they love our chalk messages. :)

Playtime.

And as we navigate this new and hopefully temporary way of living, we're all just trying to make the best of it. Working from home. Teaching at home. It's hard. The distractions are innumerable for me, so I can't imagine trying to do school as a kid.

LC interrupting me for the 7 millionth time that day. 😂

Welcome to our school/office where it's a disaster and the interruptions are abundant. 😂

And apparently this is the expression I'm wearing lately.

I'll leave you with thisplendided distraction. ☺️

Bad Timing: A Christmas Apology

2019-12-15T16:22:00.001-06:00

It's a quiet Sunday afternoon.
By some stroke of luck, LC is napping, Adam is probably watching some crazy movie while he works, and I'm actually sitting down. The harsh light of my computer screen duels with the warm lights of the Christmas tree to fill the darkness of our living room. Belle, our new horse of a dog, roams about looking for crumbs of food Lydia may have left behind.

As I sit and consider what I could possibly blog about (when I should really be doing so many other things), I reach for my warm cup of afternoon coffee. In my peripheral vision I see my horse-dog attempting to counter surf.

Too bad for Belle, counter surfing is a big no-no. Those soft paws of hers were stealthy, but her timing was bad.

She's young, but she'll learn soon enough. Timing is everything.

That's something that I'm feeling this season.
I have 7838 things to do this week.
I think I have to take food to at least three get-togethers. I'm probably supposed to actually make or bake these items. And I don't make. Or bake.
Lots of gifts aren't bought --- LC's included.
Christmas cards aren't in the mail. They aren't even bought. And no sweet, festive photo has been made to put on the front of these nonexistent cards.
There's a cookie swap coming up - and I'm supposed to include a recipe? I don't have a cookie recipe...
That's all this week.
Tack on grades and lesson plans and laundry and company and....

The timing couldn't be more chaotic.

Last week's blizzard happened while LC was doing her yoga in her leotard. Once we saw the snow, we knew we had to get out and play. We popped on layer after layer right over that leotard. Just as we were about to walk out the door, wouldn't you know it - she had to go to the bathroom. Great timing, kid. Great timing. Seven hours later, we finally made it outside to make snowballs and have some fun.

So this, my friends, is a public apology.
For over-baked cookies.
And for store bought treats.

For last minute requests for gift ideas.
And for probably just getting you a giftcard instead.

For not mailing you a Christmas card this year.
And for not letting you know how much I enjoy putting yours on our fridge.

For looking like a crazy woman when you see me in the grocery store.
And for having to go to the grocery store every day (rather, for sending Adam every day😁).

For being late for everything.
And for maybe even leaving your gift under our Christmas tree.

Here's to laughing at my failed attempts to bake anything edible.
And to not stressing over what to buy.

Here's to relaxing.
Enjoying time with folks.

And experiencing Christmas with Lydia Claire.

If you're looking for a funny blog, this ain't it.

2019-11-22T20:58:00.001-06:00

You know those times when you think of something.
And then you can't stop thinking about that something?
Like a specific shirt or pair of socks you want to wear you HAVE to wear on that particular day?
And you search madly, creating a path of destruction and chaos until that something is located?

Just me?
Bueller?

Well, for me, it happens.
I know, I know.
If my life was together and things properly organized, I wouldn't have to go all tasmanian
devil every other day. But that's another story.
Anyway, this highly organized type of search and rescue happens less frequently than it used to. Honestly, I think I give up easier than I used to.

But that's where this blog begins.
On a multiple-day, tasmanian-style search for a picture circa 2003.

I'll spare you the suspense---

I found it.

The whole ordeal began at school, really. My coworker and I were discussing outlets for students to share, and open mic came up. Now if there's something I love, it's a mic. My mind went immediately to a time my high school bff and I sang in the gym. I could conjure up the image perfectly - down to the outfit. And I knew that I could quickly put my hands on it when I got home. So that's just what I went to do that afternoon. However, I was met with an empty photo slot when I thumbed to the page in my now 15 year old photo album.

Enter tasmanian search.
While this comprehensive search was not fruitful, I wasn't done.
The search then spread from Alabama to Tennessee.

Fast forward a week or so to my visit with my parents. I dug into my stack of yearbooks in search of the missing picture. I would have bet my lunch money that it had been featured in the yearbook. Mom, Lydia Claire, and I stretched out across the bed and and began the search. Page after page yeilded many memories, but not the one I was after.
Unsuccessful, I decided to just give up. Sure it was somewhere, and eventually I would stumble upon it. Surely.

Days passed, but I still kept hoping. Thinking. Searching in my mind.
Then it happened. On the quest for another photo, I blew the dust off of my photo box, cracked the top, and there it was. Nestled among other high school era photos was the blurry, taken-too-far-away photo --- just as I had imagined, and just as I remembered it.

We sang "It's the End of the World" by R.E.M. - I can still sing along to every word.

As I held the photo in my hands, I realized my search wasn't over.
It wasn't the photo, but it was the feeling.
Nostalgia.
I had first felt it looking through my albums.
Then again in looking at photos from high school and the messages graffitiing the pages.
And there I stood over a whole box of nostalgia.

The little moments, the big moments, the seemingly meaningless moments frozen in time, crammed in a box, and shoved in a dusty corner. They were all there.
I dug through, reliving each moment. Marveling over the memory.

And it hit me.
What I'm doing now will soon be a moment for my dusty box.
This will be nostalgia someday.
This crazy Friday night will, at some point, be a cherished memory.
All the gymnastics practices, the runs pushing a stroller, the bribes to get one very stubborn 4 year old to go to bed. Nostalgia.

Halloween project to make a costume from a paper bag.
Nailed it.

Dover beach - I was sick, and it was freezing.

No one seen here likes having their picture made.


Lunchroom pals. I always thought 6th graders would be the perfect age to teach. This group proves me right.

Coffee in a cup older than me. Nothing could beat hearing my grandaddy talk to LC over breakfast. I burnt the eggs, and no one wanted the 1/2 gallon of chocolate gravy I made.

It's gotta be the worst best feeling out there.
Here's some nostalgia in the making.

Choose Wisely

2019-10-15T15:28:00.001-05:00

Recently, I changed jobs.
Well, kinda. I moved from teaching all day at an elementary school to teaching half days at a middle school. The other half of my day is spent with data. I'll spare you the enthralling details of that portion of work and just say that I now spend a great deal of time glued to a computer screen.

This move was a very welcomed one - I had been feeling the need for a change for a couple of years. Other changes, however, have not been met with the warmest welcome.

Take, for example, a few alarming things I've discovered in the mirror --namely two gray hairs upon my head, one gray eyebrow hair, and four lovely forehead wrinkles. In addition to those lovely discoveries, I noticed a few new lines which have cropped up around my eyes as of late.

Two words: crow's feet.

Can I blame it on the computer screen? The expression I wear all day, every day that I'm at school?

Expression (wrinkles) worn for the majority of my time at school.

Whatever the case, I can't like it. I now get why women get Botox! If my sweet husband (and many (ok, all)) of my friends in the medical field weren't so against it, I'd probably be riding that Botox wave, too. Those lines on my face are just foreign to me.

I've tried face primer.
Anti-aging/wrinkle cream.
Drinking lots of water.
Getting more sleep.
Nothing helps.

I even bought a real classy pair of $5.98 reading glasses today at the Wal-Mart to help with my new pet crows. But I have no faith in any of that. I think those lines are here to stay. Stubborn and unmoving - much like their new owner. Me. I'm talking about me. I'm stubborn.

But while we're on the topic of stubborn, we can go ahead and talk about my sweet, precious, darling daughter, Lydia Clarie --- who might, in fact, be the origin of these unwelcome Facial Punctuation changes.

Oh sweet Lydia Claire.
She's a joy. A doll. A precious child.
But trying to talk to her, to parent her, is like talking to a brick wall.
Or maybe a mirror.

I distinctly remember the very first conversation I had about this personality trait.
The year was 2016, and LC was just over a year old.
We had been called by her daycare director - Lydia Claire had bitten a friend a couple of times. During this conversation, the director comforted me - the very embarrassed parent - and told me about how she guided and learned to understand her strong-willed child.

I think this photo is the result of me telling her she couldn't have a popsicle for dinner.
Or that she needed to put on pants before going to talk to our neighbors.
Probably something mean like that.

Strong-willed.
Excellent description for my child.
Unfortunately, it's also an excellent description for me.
But we're learning.
And I'm learning to choose wisely in this battlefield.

Battle Not Fought: baby needed to come on our walk, too.
Total distance covered that morning: 0.2 miles in 30 minutes.


Battle Not Fought: NOTHING matches here! Also, this is not the pose I was going for...

So many battles not fought here.


Battle Not Fought: princess dress/shoes shouldn't be worn out on errands in 1000 degree Alabama heat.

So much about LC is changing.
In a good way.
She's growing into her personality. And I can like that.
Even if it does give me wrinkles.

Cringy - And Other Things I'm Learning in Middle School

2019-10-06T15:51:00.002-05:00

The year was 1999.
I, along with my besties, were at the pinnacle of our middle school career. We were the big dogs- 8th graders. We had our secret languages and slang. Our sleepovers filled with prank calls and truth or dare. Our hair glitter. We really thought we were something.


No hair glitter pictured, but I do see some Levi's Silver Tab jeans and maybe even some JNCO jeans there? Not sure. Only the 90s know.

In reality, we were just kids. We were awkward. We were eating up the terrible trends of the time. Looking back, all I can do is laugh and shake my head. Shaking my head when reliving the past - a total adult thing to do, right?


Pig tails. Half-moon bangs. Choker necklace. Excellent choices, pre-teen Janell. Excellent.

Fast forward twenty years {gulp}. Really? Twenty years?!?
And I'm in middle school again.
Everything is different, and yet it's exactly as it was twenty years ago.
The types of kids that cling together. The trends - both the tolerable and those that will embarrass in the years to come. No hair glitter this time though. Well, not yet. I'm still waiting on that one.

For this adventure through middle school, I'm playing the role of teacher.
So far, it's much better than last time's student part I played.
Except as the teacher twenty years removed from middle school, all of the habits, rules, and trends bring a pretty sizeable learning curve. Thankfully, the students I get to work with are pretty kind. They've taught me phrases like:

1. That's cringy.
Meaning : to cause one to cringe.

2. That's a mood.
Meaning : something just done/said by party 1 is relatable by party 2

These students also keep me informed on phrases that tend to take on a different meaning in middle school land as opposed to adult land.

1. Netflix and Chill
2. OG (original gangster)

Fun times, huh?
Being new to the middle school scene, I'm constantly comparing my new role with my old one.
My new students to my old ones. My new responsibilities to my old ones.

While I know that comparison is the thief of joy (Thanks, Teddy R.), it's hard to refrain. And not just in my work life - in my life life, too.

My training runs for an upcoming long distance race?
---I was so much faster five years ago...
My lesson planning every Sunday?
---This did NOT take up as much time last year...

It's mind boggling.
Rather than being happy about the here and now, I time travel to the past ---which is almost always viewed through rose colored glasses --- to compare performance, relationships, etc. Thankfully for me, ole Taylor Swift taught me how to shake it off. But as for these kids I get to hang out with in middle school? They're doing it, too. They're comparing their every move, choice, and performance to everyone around them.
And that is mind boggling.

I'm nearly 100% certain that the next degree I seek will need to be in the field of counseling.
Five different times last week, students sat in my office crying about something. And about everything. Nearly every student's problem can be traced back to comparison. And what they're comparing themselves to is unrealistic.

Sound familiar?
I do it, too.
But here's to stopping the comparison. Here's to being happy with the here, the now - even when it's a little cringy. Maybe I used that right!?

Here's to being back at blogging.
So you can, well, compare. ;)

See you Wednesday.

Did I dissapoint you? Were you looking for pictures of LC?
Well, who am I to keep those from you? Let me share a few snapshots from Life with LC.

LC on her first official picture day.

LC sporting her new big girl haircut.

Flying her newly assembled and painted plane.

Intimidated and Insane.

2018-06-12T15:13:00.002-05:00

Have you ever started talking without really having an idea of where it is you're going or what you really intended to say?

If you have, good. Then you can realate.
If you haven't, well. You're probably just kidding yourself. ;)

But that's just what this blog is.
I'm not sure why I'm writing it.
Or what it is I want to say.
I just know that I want to talk, and I've got the time.
Now let's hope the words flow like I want them to.
And you don't come to the last sentence wishing you hadn't wasted your time and vow to never read another blog.

I'm not sure if you know this or not, but blogging is pretty risky for an introvert like me.
Thinking it is one thing. Writing it down is another.
But sharing it?
Now that's what makes my stomach turn cartwheels. Every time I share a blog entry, I wonder...
Will anyone read it? Does anyone think like I do? Is someone going to think I'm crazy?
Writing down moments and experiences of my life - the embarrassing, the imperfect, the insane - is one of the most intimidating things I've done.
But it's been good for me.
And I hope that the most recent intimidating/imperfect/insane experience will be the same--- in retrospect.

In December of 2010, Adam and I bought our first house. We were so excited. It was new. It was small. It was perfect. I remember eating lunch in the middle of our empty master bedroom right after closing. I couldn't believe that it was our house. Over the course of the next seven years, I planted. I painted. I loved that house so much. We had made it our own. But when Lydia came along, she made it HERS. Soon, our small house became much smaller. So we started looking. Then we started the intimidating process of selling.

Thankfully I never counted the number of times I questioned our choice to sell. It's probably close to the number of calories I consumed as I ate my emotions (hello brownies and ice-cream) while preparing our home for being shown. If I'd ever had a hard number, there's no doubt that I would have backed out.

The day it went on the market, I tried not to think. I secretly loathed every person who asked to come see the house. And as our realtor kept us updated, my desire to crawl into a dark corner grew. And grew. And grew. Thank goodness for my work friends who kept me as calm as possible and out of the dark corner. :)

By the end of the day, we had sorted through offers and selected one.
Thank goodness I only had to keep the house tidy for one day. ;)

Up until we started loading our stuff into a moving truck, I was in denial. I was sure something would go wrong.

Sad to leave our bffs!

But it didn't. We boxed up our 1400 square feet of belongings and hauled them to a storage unit. My life fit into one moderately sized storage unit. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Bittersweet last picture in front of our first house.

Hubs driving a U-Haul like a boss!

Our temporary housing had fallen into place almost perfectly - a safe place to land until finding our next home.

Writing it, it sounds all too easy.
But this has been one of the most insane and intimidating seasons of our marriage.
I have about five outfits that I cycle through, so I feel like I'm always doing laundry.
---but at least I have a working washer and dryer?
Everything that I need is somewhere in storage.
---but do I really need my brown wedges when the black ones will work just fine?
And I'm just tired of being spread out.

Today as I prepared to have our best buds come over to play, I was cleaning the kitchen. I had a small panic attack as I realized only a couple of the glasses in the house were clean. And the ones that were "clean" probably were not because the dishwasher isn't the best. I quickly calmed down - I don't need to impress anyone, and certainly not our bffs.

So, is that what I wanted to write about?
Not sure.
Maybe I just wanted to share the pictures.
Maybe I just wanted to share our crazy.
Either way, I'm glad I shared.
And hopefully you'll come back to read again.

Now, some pictures that have very little to do with the blog. :)

She was proud of herself for climbing the ladder.

Snuggles.

Umm, why you look so big, kid?


Friendos.

Part of the messy life was discovering that Lydia Claire could open the front door by herself in our temporary house. When the door is open, the dogs run out. And where there are new smells, dogs will roam. Buddy and Gracie ran off and were gone for three nights. This crew helped me get them back from a dude who was going to keep them!

I'm a Keeper, Part 2

2018-02-10T13:53:00.001-06:00

In one moment, it happened.
I became a liar.
I remember clearly the feelings of deciept that swept over me.

But before you pass judgement, let me explain.

Last week I claimed to be a keeper.
I wrote about keeping stuff, memories and overall just being a sentimental goober.
And I am, really.

But not always, I suppose.
And that's what makes me somewhat a liar.

See, I love these memories Adam, LC, and I are making.
The chaos.
The fun.
The mess.
It's wonderful.
It's wonderfully memorable.
But at times, it's also terrible.
Terribly chaotic.
Terribly messy.
And terribly stressful.

Eating my ice cream

Crying because the donkey made a noise.

I know I'm not alone here. I'm not the only person struggling to sift through the crazy chaos of the day to enjoy the little moments. Laughing when the bowl of crackers is spilled all over the place. Or not losing my cool when a child turns into an octopus while trying to get them dressed. It's hard to enjoy life when you're just trying to clean the kitchen or make it somewhere on time or just have on a clean outfit for more than three minutes. Stressful. I know I'm not alone here.

So it was no surprise to me when I noticed something in the mirror. Ok, that's a lie. It was a complete and total shock. Either way, it was there. Perched on my face as if it has always belonged. Nestled in my normal little eyebrow was a lone silver hair.

It was one of those moments that really render you speechless - in the worst way possible. This was not supposed to ever happen. I'm 27 for crying out loud (cough cough, right mom and dad??).

And in that moment, I knew it could not remain.
So while I will proudly keep the treasured relics I talked about, keep the good and terrible memories that we make, I just couldn't bare to keep that.

So, thank you work, thank you Adam, thank you LC, thank you life.
But this fabulous little grey hair ONE of you caused is not a keeper.
No way. No thank you. Not even.

I'm a Keeper, Part 1

2018-02-04T07:35:00.000-06:00

I come by it honest.

My daddy.
My daddy's family.
My mama's folks.
They all have the knack for holding on to stuff.
From my Granny's fancy Eastern Star dresses she wore back in the early 90s, to the button that came off of the coat my Daddy's grandfather bought for my Daddy's mama. That button is on my backpack purse that my mama and aunt spent all afternoon sewing for me when I was in high school. I kept that, too.
We're all keepers.

Relics from times long past decorate the corners of my grandparents' homes.
Some have even found their way into my home.

The aged windows that hang in my living room spent a lifetime bringing light into my mama's grandparents' house. My daddy salvaged them when they tore down that house. The windows spent another lifetime tucked away, waiting to be reused. My daddy dug them out for me when I got the wild idea that I needed old windows for my new house.

There's a nail keg in my living room. It holds my dry umbrellas. Probably a few dust bunnies, too. I found it in my Grandaddy's basement one time. It was perfect. My brother and my Mama made me promise that I wouldn't get rid of it. I think it was a stretch for them to let me take it.

One relic in particular comes from my daddy's daddy, Grandpa. My grandmother gave it to me as a Christmas gift years after Grandpa passed. It's now proudly hanging near the light switch in my small guest room. For years, it hung near the light switch in my Grandpa's room. As a child, I would admire it each time I was in the room. Now I can do the same in my own home. That stuffed, mounted squirrel makes me smile every time I look at him.

I can't help but be a keeper.
My folks think I like to get rid of stuff, but I don't.
I really have a problem holding on to stuff, stuff that has a memory attached to it.

Buried deep in the drawers of clothes in my closet is the shirt I wore when Mama and Daddy bought me the car I had always wanted.

Jammed into the drawer of the desk my daddy refinished for me is a stack of cards scribbled with signatures and notes of the folks that I care most about.

I can't help but be a keeper.

Now with LC, I find myself wanting to keep more and more.
Her first pair of baby Converse shoes.
Her sweet little crafts she loves to tell us about.
Her adorable favorite shirts or night gowns.

There's a fine line between being a keeper and being a hoarder.
I don't think I've crossed that line just yet, but sometimes I wonder.

I'm trying to be selective about what I keep.
I'm trying to keep more memories.
Like the sweet smile I see when she peeks out of her bedroom when she wakes up.
Or the mischievous look I get from across the breakfast table.

I've been writing this stuff down so maybe Lydia Claire will be a keeper too. A keeper of the sweet stuff, her mama's words and thoughts. And maybe some of the sentimental junk my family has held onto for years. Maybe she'll keep that, too. Maybe she'll be a keeper.

Reasons we don't have pictures of LC's room:
1. She's a toddler and it's a disaster.
But the fabulous posters are in the background of this photo. :)

Above her bed are pages from a Fun with Dick and Jane book. Adam's grandmother used them when she taught kindergarten many years ago.

Two framed crocheted doilies spent decades decorating Adam's other grandmother's walls. They're now hanging a wall in LC's room.

The foot of Lydia Claire's bed isn't topped with a fluffy character blanket. She has quilt made by her great, great grandmother.

I guess I'm training her to be a keeper, too.

Allow Me to Vent

2018-01-01T15:27:00.000-06:00

Stinky.
I was going to tell you just how stinky this whole break has been.
How it started off great with a trip to the beach, but quickly took a turn for the worse Christmas night.
How I washed my phone.
How I got an invisible splinter in my left index finger (it just has to be a splinter...).
How it's so sunny outside but cold and windy.
How just when LC was getting better, Adam got sick.
How I didn't get go to shopping on my break.
How LC has refused to nap for, umm, two weeks now.
How I've had to clean up behind sick folks for what feels like foreeeever.
How I tried to potty train LC, but the stomach bug had other ideas.
Stinky.

Basically, my first blog of 2018 was going to be me complaining. That's what people want to hear, right?
So overcome with the negatives of the past two weeks, I had momentarily planned to taint one of my favorite days of the year with a negative (ja)Nelly attitude.

But then I read this e-mail:

Good morning. Welcome to 2018.

My first thought today is a simple prayer. May we be inspired each day this year to learn, and to grow, and to serve; may we practice the discipline to do those things we ought to do and refrain from doing those things that are destructive; may we respect each person we encounter; may we waste nothing; may we reflect God's abiding love in a beautiful, broken world.

Be safe. Be encouraged. Be encouraging.

Andrew Westmoreland

President

Samford University

Yes.
It was just what I needed--- a redirection of my perspective and a nice slap in the face.
And that's what brings us here, dear friends. Well, the e-mail, my third cup of coffee, and a napping child (!!!).

So, let's try again:

Stinky.
-Not what I expected.
I was going to tell you just how stinky this whole break has been.
-Well, kind of. I mean, LC did have the stomach bug....
How it started off great with a trip to the beach, but quickly took a turn for the worse Christmas night.
-Things happened that I didn't really foresee.
How I washed my phone.
-I washed my phone, but I'm thankful for multiple people loaning me phones so I don't have to pay $5K for a phone right after Christmas.
How I got an invisible splinter in my left index finger (it just has to be a splinter...).
-Umm, yes. There's still definitely something in there. But it will come out eventually, right?
How it's so sunny outside but cold and windy.
-I'm so thankful for a warm place to stay.
How just when LC was getting better, Adam got sick.
-At least he waited until LC was better. Could I really take care of two sick people? I mean, I'm a terrible nurse when attending to one patient, so...
How I didn't get go to shopping on my break.
-I didn't get to go shopping, but I've still go my mad money from Christmas gifts! I'm rich!
How LC has refused to nap for, umm, two weeks now.
-There was just so much going on, I probably wouldn't want to nap either. BUT SHE'S NAPPING NOW!
How I've had to clean up behind sick folks for what feels like foreeeever.
-Y'all, my house is so clean. Even the light switches in the garage have been Cloroxed.
How I tried to potty train LC, but the stomach bug had other ideas.
-Not sure how to positively spin that stinky situation...
Stinky.
-Interesting.

Better.
And that's just what I'm aiming for this year: Better.

Sleepy LC snuggles this morning as we had our coffee on the couch.

I'm setting small goals to help myself be better.
I'm not delusional enough to set a 12 month goal when I have trouble committing to setting an alarm for Saturday mornings. Instead, I have a few things I am going to try out this month. If they work, good. If they don't, well, I'll adjust the sails and proceed from there.

Things to try in January:
- Journal Three Good Things each day
- Eat no sweets (this on the heels of my Christmas Reese's Cup binge...)
- Read one book
- Cook all meals at home

While I do have my four January goals, I think I'll adopt Dr. Westmoreland's prayer for 2018:

May we be inspired each day this year to learn, and to grow, and to serve; may we practice the discipline to do those things we ought to do and refrain from doing those things that are destructive; may we respect each person we encounter; may we waste nothing; may we reflect God's abiding love in a beautiful, broken world.

Be safe. Be encouraged. Be encouraging.

Dr. Westmoreland, me, and my gifted gals, Amy and Andrea!

Too Much to Eat

2017-12-27T07:41:00.001-06:00

I'm not sure about you, but I have so many memories tied to food.

The chocolate pies my Granny used to make - and the meringue that my cousin and I used to scrape off of the pies.

The deer and biscuits my uncle used to make - and the subsequent smell that filled the entire house!

The scrambled eggs my Grandpa made - and the way he would hold two eggs in one hand.

I love the memories that go along with food. This holiday season, there was no shortage of either food or memories. There's no telling what the scale will scream at me when I step onto it again... I found myself eating lots of delicious meals and snacks everywhere we traveled this holiday. But this blog is not about eating. Well, it is kind of. But not really.

This December, I realized that it was not just my mom's delicious foods I'd been overeating that was making me feel so uncomfortable. In amongst finishing up graduate school, planning a vacation, and enjoying the holiday with family, I realized that I have also been eating my words at every turn.

I'd never just sit my child down in front of the tv! Parents should be playing with their kids!

---Right. Until you realize that you have nothing for dinner, seventeen loads of laundry to do, and ya kid is not content to go play by themselves. Cue her favorite movie....Mama needs to eat and we gotta have something to wear!

My child is definitely going to be potty trained by the time she's two!

---Yeah. What if the kid's not ready, Janell of the Past? What about that? What about trying to potty train around her 2nd birthday, but she just doesn't get it? What if you spend more time cleaning pee puddles and wet panties than you do anything else?

I'd never let my child have that much sugar to eat.

---Grandparents. Halloween. Christmas. Sometimes you just channel Elsa and let it go. Maybe bribe the kid with marshmallows in order to get her to eat the green beans. You know, whatever works.

I think you get the idea, so I'll spare you the rest.

I hope I'm not alone in this whole eating your words ordeal. I like to believe that it's just that I didn't know what bringing up a child would be like. Plans are great, there are so many other factors to negotiate when being a parent: environment, exhaustion, stubborn kid personality.

So I find myself just shrugging.

Oh well.

I suppose the journey is making good memories?

At least they're memorable. Like this Christmas ---

December was a big month. I was slated to graduate on the 16th in Birmingham, so we planned to drive on down to the beach for family vacation. We all needed some time to rest and relax, and that was exactly what happened. It was fabulous.

When we got back to our home, I did some laundry and packed again to head up to my family's place in Tennessee. We had a blast visiting with them! On Christmas Eve, I realized that we would be getting home around 8 pm. The sweet little picture of baking cookies for Santa that had been dancing in my head would definitely not be happening this year. I swiped a couple cookies from the meal at my grandmother's house (thanks, Cayley!!), wrapped them up, and placed them in the car Adam and LC were in.

So, we all made it home and began unloading the car. It was there that I discovered the empty cookie packaging. Oops. Adam fed them to LC on the drive home. Communication fail.

*Shrug. Oh well.

As Adam began getting Lydia Claire ready for bed, I rummaged through the pantry. I came up with a little piece of coconut candy and a glass of water to put out for Santa. We hadn't been home in over a week, so milk was out.

Coconut candy is a good change from cookies, right? Santa's gotta get tired of all the cookies.

And milk. One can only drink so much milk. Water is a good change.

We let Lydia Claire set it out and told her it was for Santa.

As we were tucking her in, I heard the clank clank of dishes.

Buddy Clause had already visited.
*Shrug. Oh well.

Luckily, Santa still visited our house.

Glad he gave us some points for our effort.

Our sleigh pulled out Christmas morning in time to celebrate with Adam's family in the Shoals. We spent the day there eating and playing and making lots of memories.

Christmas night, Adam, LC, and I settled down on the couch to watch Mister Grinch, as she calls it.

I knew something was up with her as she wiggled beneath the blanket.

And then it happened.

And it went everywhere.

I tried to catch it with the blanket.

But that nasty stomach bug is fierce.

Poor girl.

I stared in shock for a split second as Adam whisked LC to the bathroom.

She's a munchkin. How was there so much? And how did it get on everything?

I bundled up the blanket and took it to the laundry. I changed clothes, put it all to wash, and hopped in the shower. Checked on crying LC. Helped Adam. Where's my phone? Noticed an odd ka-thunk in the washer.

Oh. No.
*Shrug. Oh well.

In case you're wondering, phones do not survive washing machines.

There's not much I can do at this point except learn from my mistakes, shrug, and say oh well.

Because in the end, this is definitely a Christmas I will not forget. :)

******************************

Here's a sweet little conversation I had with Adam the day after Christmas:

Janell: Hey honey. I forgot to tell you that I found a friend to come help me today with LC while you were at work.

Adam: Oh, ok...

Janell: Yeah, he's pretty sweet to come over when I have a sick kid....

Adam: What? (wide eyes) He?

Janell: I know. I felt bad because I kinda bit his head off---

Janell's Excellent Adventure

2017-09-17T06:07:00.002-05:00

This week, one of my closest friends had her baby. Talk about exciting! While Lydia Claire and I were there meeting their new, sweet baby boy, I couldn't help but take a trip down memory lane. Just like my friends, a short two years ago Adam and I had no idea what we were getting into. Neither of us knew how to change a diaper, and two years later we've gone pro. I had no clue to how to hold a baby, now I adore slinging my wild toddler over my shoulder and wagging her around upside down- the belly laugh that ensues is my favorite.

Being a parent is one of the strangest, most complicated things I've ever done.
But it's one of the best.
It's filled with complex feelings and emotions---

Some days I simply CANNOT wait for Lydia Claire to finally go down for a nap.
----but then I can't wait for her to get up so we can go get into something new.

Sometimes I NEED Adam to just take her for a little while so I can gather my wits.
----but before I know it, I've scooped her out of his arms.

Weird.

This time last weekend, I had just gotten back from my first big trip since becoming a parent.
Pre-LC, I traveled lots to run.
Post-LC, not so much.

One day last May, I got the hair brained idea to do a Google search for "Cool Race Medals."
And then my coworker waltzed in to see what I was doing.
We happened upon the COOLEST race medal.
So we registered for the half marathon.
Because we NEEDED it, right?
Pennsylvania in a weekend? Totally doable.

It ended up being another one of those weird complex parent things.
I couldn't wait for a break from real life.
----but I was solo eager to get back to my gal.

In my mind, I just couldn't wait to get back to my runner roots - going somewhere new, running a race with all the crazy runner folks. Aside from that, I needed a break from being Mommy. But when it actually came down to it, I was scared. I didn't want to leave my gal.

May until September is a long time. I had neglected thinking about it; I didn't want to think about leaving my sweet girl.
But then race weekend arrived.
I almost backed out approximately 7 times.
But I did it.
I got in the car and rode for 12 hours.
And then I ran.
And then we came home.
It was a fabulous trip, and I didn't even cry when I FaceTimed my girl! She was having such a good time with her daddy that I couldn't be sad. She had a busy weekend filled with fun, food, and laughter. It was a lot like mine. :)

So, here's the race re-cap of the Bird-In-Hand half marathon in Bird-In-Hand, Pennsylvania.

Had to make a quick stop for lunch, but what really caught our eye were all the northern car tags!
It meant we were getting close!

Once we arrived in PA, we went straight to the expo. We had to park in a field.
I was so excited to see all the Amish folks with their swanky rides!

The expo was held outside in a big field. Pretty neat!

Taking our picture in front of the back drop must mean that it's about to get real!

Typical pose for me!

Part of the pre-race festivities was a hot air balloon thing. You could pay mega dollars to go for a ride, or you could just sit and watch. Since I do not have mega dollars or want to be waaaay up in the sky floating around, I chose to stay firmly planted in the field with all my Amish friends.

Trying to catch it as it floated away.

That night, they made us all smores. Jan and I had good intentions of staying, but then we got tired and decided to leave. Pretty cool, though, to go to a race where they make smores for you!

While I was having a grand ole time out in a field, LC and Adam were having a grand ole time eating Chinese take out and cuddling on the couch. I love this picture more than words.

On the way to our motel in Intercourse, PA, we passed numerous other folks also headed home.

These town names are too funny.

The next morning ----

We parked our car and got ready to line up.
:)

We headed out, but I couldn't focus. The scenery was just too beautiful.

I started out with the intention of just finishing. I hadn't trained properly, so I just wanted to finish. But when I saw the 2:10 pacer was an Amish runner, I had to stick with him! When else would I have 2 hours to hang with someone that's from Amish country in PA? It was great. While it started out as just someone neat to run with, Aaron, my pacer, ended up being a great running partner.

This was one on the bigger hills we had to climb. While the 13.1 mile course wasn't super hilly, it definitely had some inclines to it.

Along the whole course, Amish families came out of their houses to watch, cheer, and hand out water. They don't mind their photos being taken as long as they aren't asked to pose. However, I was never brave enough to take their photo. I stole this one from the race Facebook page. Another runner posted this shot.

Yessss.

After Jan crossed the finish line, we had to pose with our medals!

These ladies had driven down from Canada and were staying in the same motel as we did. We ran into them a lot! Super fun to talk to.

After the race was over, we were fed at an Amish picnic. They had tons of great food for us!

It wasn't long after eating that we struck out, car pointed south. While we had a blast, we were oh so glad to be home.

And I had one little girl stuck to me like glue the next day!!

Proof I finished with a smile!
Aaron, my Amish pacer, let me finish first. :)
Half Marathon #11 --- 2:09:38

Sorry Not Sorry

2017-07-20T15:29:00.001-05:00

It is a miracle!
I got my sassy 2 year old diva down for a nap.
That rarely happens these days, but really, I can't blame her.
It seems like such a shame to sleep away these numbered summer days, and yet today sleep won.
I know that my blissful couple of hours will go by in a flash, but most days do. I've blinked my eyes and summer is nearly over.

Fourteen days of summer remain.
Fourteen days to giggle, play, and enjoy carefree summertime.
Fourteen days to neglect the messy house, the piles of laundry, and the dusty blinds.

So when you see me with my hair unfixed.
Or visit my messy house.
Or don't see me out running or at the gym, you'll know what's going on. I'm just enjoying my girl. And we've probably been playing hard.

Our tan lines show how much we've splashed.
The wrinkled clothes show that we just ain't got time to fold the clean laundry.
And the ice-cream on our faces and shirts, well, you get the idea there.

But the crumbs in the bed? I can explain.
When LC asked for a movie in the big bed, I couldn't say no. And what's a movie without snacks? I tried to shield the bed with an extra blanket, but it didn't work. In true toddler fashion, her snack got everywhere. Those crumbs are sneaky. I just couldn't brush them all away. I tried. But they were stubborn.

So tonight when we crawl in bed to settle down for the night, hubby, there may be some crumbs lingering.
I apologize.
But just know that those crumbs are the remnants of a great day. A day where I chose to play hard. To not care about getting my hair wet or smearing my makeup. A day that was great.

Tomorrow during nap time, maybe I'll change the sheets.
That's if we take a break for a nap...

The Cake.

2017-07-08T07:39:00.001-05:00

Have you ever wondered where our expectations come from?
Like, where did we get the idea that adulthood was going to be all that and a bag of chips?
Or where we got the idea that, as a mom, I'm supposed to always know the answer?

I had a lot of expectations for motherhood. I imagined a sweet little baby nuzzling up to me when we were lounging around the house watching Netflix.

Nope. She just cried.

I imagined having a tidy house and dinner prepared all while baby snoozed.

Rarely happens while chasing this girl around.

And I expected to be able to make my darling a fabulous and delicious birthday cake.
Made.
With.
Love.

Please tell me that I'm not alone in consistently failing at motherhood.
And that, friends, is where the lightbulb went off for the title of this blog.

Failed Expectations

Let's take a minute to rewind to July 2016 - my daughter's first birthday.
I had planned a wonderful birthday cake - decorations, recipe, ingredients, it was all easy.
It was going to be, well, a piece of cake.
And somewhere in the midst of baking - something I rarely do - I felt like a failure.
My cupcakes, the ones that were supposed to be huge fluffy strawberry creations, fell.

As it would turn out, they looked kinda neat. And they were pretty good.
My mother ended up making LC's big cake, and I decorated it.
But it was during that experience that I vowed to always pay someone else to make her cake. I figured that I had done my duty, I had made my daughter a smash cake for her first birthday.

No cake was eaten...

Loving mother toils away in the kitchen so baby can smash and smear a small cake.

I did it. Check that one off the list.

But somewhere between July 2016 and May 2017, I forgot about that. This May, I began scrolling through cakes on Pinterest, searching for the perfect Frozen inspired cake. The one I found seemed simple enough. And I made the fondant Olaf with ease. However, when it came to the actual baking part, all of my 2016 memories came flooding back: I hate baking.

I suppose that the problem is that I never wrote about the Cake Baking Fiasco of 2016. So here I am now telling you about it all. The ridiculous amount of money I spent buying baking supplies. The stress of making a cake while packing and wrangling a 2 year old and trying to listen to my online grad class. The confectioners sugar that got ALL over my kitchen.

But through it all, the cake actually looked pretty good. For a moment, I was impressed with myself.

Until we cut that sucker and tried a bite.
And that's when I knew.
I just knew.
Failed Expectations.

I had expected the cake I made my girl, the cake I spent so much time thinking about, planning, and baking, to be a huge success. It's what moms are supposed to do, right? At least that's what I thought; that was my expectation.

Oh how wrong it was.
As wrong as the cake was bad.

What I've found, though, is that with every failure there is a chance to grow and learn and make memories. The girls had a ball playing in the cake. They loved dipping their tiny fingers in the icing (the only part of the cake that was good!) and licking it off. So, I guess it was all worth it. The time, money, and frustrations paid off in sweet memories.

If we dig around a little, I'm pretty sure there's probably a picture of me sitting in that same spot as a kid with my birthday cake!

Sweet girl gave cousin Christy a bite.
Even sweeter Christy pretended to eat that bite! ;)
It really was gross.

This has to be one of my favorites. They sat at my Grandaddy's table and ate icing and fed each other icing for the longest.

But please.
Next May, I beg you to start reminding me of these incidents.
Remind me that I need to just fork over the money and have someone else whip up a cake!

The Plunge

2017-06-29T07:04:00.001-05:00

It was on this very day, waaay back in 2011, that I first took the plunge.
I remember how nervous I was.
I doubted.
I worried.
I even considered not doing it.
But boy am I glad I ever did.

I had forgotten, but the summer of 2011 was a crossroads for me. For us.
I had been pink slipped at my teaching job - thanks, proration 2011.
Our house had been affected by the April 2011 tornados and was undergoing some work.
Adam had just had surgery on his ankle and was on crutches, for like ever.

He was a pro on crutches.

But there was lots of fun, too.
Picking out paint colors.
Wheeling Adam around in a wheelchair while shopping.

Old times? Oh, I love talking about old times. New times are great too, but there's just something about old times. You know what I mean?

-Leslie Knope, Parks & Rec

And today is where old times and new times cross paths. Well, once again. But today feels pretty significant! The plunge I worried over, doubted about was putting myself out there.

I remember sitting on our tiny front porch pecking away at the keyboard.

Questioning a blog name.

Questioning what to write about.

Questioning if it's even worth my time.

Who knows how long it took me, but I know that I shared my first blog post on Facebook and quickly closed the computer. I got in the car and drove to Walgreens to pick up something. When I got back, I had butterflies in my stomach as I logged in to see if anyone had read.

What if they think it's dumb?

What if they think I'm dumb?

But you were kind. You were sweet.

You read and you commented.

And you've kept reading! You have no idea how much you've helped me have fun on this journey of writing. While it seems trivial, your words mean more than you know to me. Each time you've read or mentioned my blog, it pushes me to keep on keeping on. (There's a PCHS reference for you Linden folks! Haha!)

This is post #133.

Not all of them have been published, but it's remarkable to me that I've had so much to say, so much to write. But, old times vs. new times, it's funny how my first post, Breaking Up With Butter, is so still me.

So, here's to plenty of new times, my friends.

I can't wait to keep sharing the ups and downs with ya!

And as always, thanks for reading. :)

And here's a cute picture of my gal. Never in a bajillion years could I have imagined, when beginning this blog, that this is a photo I'd be posting!

She's wearing one of my outfits! 1986 vintage right there!
Yes, 1986. But that still makes me 27....

And finally a 2011 Janell and Adam photo. :)

Face Palm

2017-06-22T08:19:00.000-05:00

To everything there is a season, right?

This was from last year --- cue the tears! My baby's grown so much!!!

I have to keep reminding myself of that these days. Times are gonna change. Enjoy the moments --- both the pleasant ones as well as the face palm moments.

But here's the cold hard truth about this season of life:
It Stinks.

This month, I'm taking what is undoubtedly the most difficult class in my grad school program.
Adam has just started a new job. We've had to adjust the most to this --- different hours, different demands. This is the first summer I've ever been home alone. Like ever. And it's a hard transition. I have to go out of town each week for school, so there's having to arrange for a babysitter. It's just a season of change.

I could sugar coat things and make everything look rosy, but that's not my jam.
I could whine about how tough it it, but that's no my jam either.
Instead, I'm choosing to embrace the good, the bad, and the ugly, chronicling each day in all its glory. :)

Monday, June 12:
Wrote new blog. Had fun writing. Took LC to pool where she couldn't figure out why her swim diaper was dripping even though she wasn't going to the bathroom.

She's pointing to the pool wondering why I'm
taking a photo while we should be splashing.

Tuesday, June 13:
Had to go to Birmingham for grad school. Due to poor planning, Adam had to take LC to work with him. Lack of sleep led to me buying a cup of coffee the size of my face. And lack of communication led Adam to dress LC like this.

Fashion forward. But hey, she was dressed!

Just one of the many selfies I sent to Adam that day.

Wednesday, June 14:
LC started offering to rub my shoulders. About time!
Also, a swimming adventure led to a long nap in the car.
Just look at those adorable curls!

One of the few times she's fallen asleep in the car with me. Write this one down in the books!

Thursday, June 15:
Due to the terrible down pouring of rain, we were forced to be inside most of the day. We crafted and watched Frozen. For the millionth time.

Friday, June 16:
After a Friday night cooking incident back in the spring (dropping a carton of eggs, burning toast, cutting my hand), I no longer cook on Fridays. This week, we went to a place we'd never been and tried new foods. Also, discovered that LC is obsessed with Frozen AND the balls outside of Target.

Saturday, June 17:
My sweet family came down so we could celebrate Father's Day together. LC practiced rubbing Granny's shoulders and made sure she had everyone wrapper around her finger.

Sweet Uncle D sharing donut time with LC.

Movie time with Papa. Guess what they're watching...

Refining her shoulder rubbing skills.

Sunday, June 18:
Enjoyed Adam's family for Father's Day after a sweet run through the woods.

Monday, June 20:
Why can't I remember Monday?

Tuesday, June 21:
Class online. Thought I could handle LC at home by myself. Aside from peeing in the floor twice (and once in the potty!), she was an angel.

This one just cracks me up!

And finally -- this. This is one to keep forever. She loves Mickey Mouse and she's always sure to tell me when she sees him. Before Frozen begins, we catch a glimpse of Mickey and she always says "I wuv you, Mickey" in this really strange/cute voice. But this time, she added something else to it. :)

So, here's to enjoying all the moments and all the seasons of life. :)

Terrible.

2017-06-12T14:14:00.000-05:00

Hello.
My name is Janell.
And I'm just trying to survive...

Anyone feel me on this? Triple Threat Threes maybe? Fussy Fours? Fightin' Fives even? I'm sure the list goes on, and the kind of tantrums change. I mean, I'm 27 and I still throw tantrums every now ands again. Right Adam? ;) And yes, I'm totally 27. Totally.

My girl has always been a spitfire. From refusing to show her face for nearly EVERY ultrasound, not turning until the last minute in the womb, and hmm, her entire time here with me. Spit. Fire. LC.

I've heard tale of calm babies. The ones that will sleep anywhere. That don't cry for an entire 2 hour car ride. Ones that will play with their toys or watch tv. Myths. All myths in my mind. For my sweet, sweet child is far too nosy to nod off out in public. The stars must be aligned jusssst right. And she still doesn't like car rides. Forget playing in the living room while I cook dinner. She has to be right there beside me looking, helping, touching.

The kicker? She isn't even two yet.
Around mid April, her personality began to blossom and she began to assert her independence.
No bed.
No nap.
My do it.
My help.
Mommy sit.
NOOOO! Right here.

I promise you, child gets up EVERY morning wearing her sassy pants.

"My do it" gone wrong. Don't worry- she figured it out.
Besides, she wouldn't have let me help.

It's pretty neat to watch her struggle through these things. It's evident when she makes those connections on how to perform a task. Her frustration and anger immediately dissipate, replaced with sheer joy. And then she's gotta do it again. And again. And again. Practice makes perfect, eh?

Just as LC struggles through the day---putting on pants, taking off her diaper (one thing she's recently learned to do and loves to practice), opening her water bottle, successfully getting the fork WITH FOOD to her mouth---I too struggle through the day.

Each day, I watch LC from the sidelines letting her learn, and you guys do the same.
I know, I know, you do it out of love, right?
You watch as I try to wrangle a wild toddler in the grocery store.
Why stay with mom? Gotta touch everything.
You watch as my near nap child screams at the top of her lungs because I won't let her lick the shopping cart.
You cast a meaningful glance my way as I try to reason with an 20 pound octopus-child that walking into the road isn't a good idea.
And you kindly agree when I ask why it's so hot in here as I wipe away my sweat stache (for the third time).

But I'm just trying to survive.
We're just trying to survive.
Anyone with me?

But in between the tiny toddler's terrible two moments, she's pretty remarkable.
She offers to rub my shoulders.
She snuggles with me on the couch.
She loves to be by my side.
And she makes my life so much more enjoyable.

So here's the part where I show you a bajillion photos of my gal. :) Quit here if you like. But you'll be missing some serious cuteness...

Another "My Do It" moment - this one didn't go too terribly wrong. Unless you take into account the massive amount of bubbles that ended up on her. And me. And the porch. But well worth it.

While she looks cute here, she was really just plotting against me and the ducks. I wouldn't let her jump in the pond to chase the ducks. Tantrum later ensued.

When you love Cheerios as much as this girl, one spoon just isn't enough.

Making rice crispy treats/a giant sticky mess.

Adorable MOO outfit made my Marynell Hill.

Didn't want to pick a battle here, so she fed herself while wearing socks on her hands. No biggie.

Matchy matchy.

I looked away for one minute, and this is what happened. My do it, I'm sure.

This video of her dancing .... haha!

She was belly laughing at my mom. Not sure what face mom was making, but it sure did make LC laugh!

Even though it's sometimes terrible, I'd take terrible any day with her in it.
Mushy, but honest.

Easy

2017-04-09T14:50:00.003-05:00

It's been a while since I last had the time - or took the time, rather - to sit and actually write.
Like everyone else, I've been busy.
Busy with work.
Busy keeping my house looking like we may not always be slobs.
Busy wrangling my one-child-circus.
Busy with grad school.
Just busy.

But I've really missed this. I've written many partial blogs in my head. I'll have a wonderful idea while driving, or cleaning, or doing who knows what, but I never take time to write it down. And I miss doing that.

So here we are. LC is busy snoozing. The Hubs is off at a meeting. And I am alone with my keyboard. Like all solid relationships, we easily pickup just where we left off. Easy.

And isn't easy wonderful?
I am oh so grateful for the easy things in life.
Friendships and relationships that come easy. That pick back up right where they left off. That never leave you wondering. The easy ones. Mercy. Those are the relationships to never let go of!

But even while easy is wonderful, so is the struggle bus.
And boy howdy do I ride that struggle bus pre-tty often these days.

My child, do not let her fool you - she is not easy.
She's like wrestling an octopus.
An octopus with an incredibly strong personality and desire to do things her way.
I'm not sure how she can manage to go from perfectly sweet one second to alligator-tear-tantrum-throwing octopus the next. In the blink of an eye, she can go limp (what I like to refer to as boneless), crawl up your entire body, squirm around your shoulders and back, and completely mess up your clothes, hair, and makeup in the blink of an eye. That's pretty amazing. Also annoying.

Is it mean that I took photos of this?

If you shift your focus for mere seconds...

But I think it's the not so easy stuff that makes a person grow.
How much is my octopus daughter teaching me through these tantrums?
Patience? Tact? Who knows. But I do know that it makes our relationship stronger. She's like this cute little complicated puzzle that I'm learning to figure out. Fun, but not easy.

Also not easy has been juggling everything.
My octopus.
School.
Work.
Running.
It's been difficult, but worth it.

Today was a big day.
BIG day. But definitely not easy.
For months now, my friend and I have been training for a half marathon. Through sickness. Through heat. Through cold. We've put in the miles, and today it paid off. I cannot wait to see my photos from race day. I probably have the cheesiest grin on my face in all of them! The joy I felt to be back was obvious. It was not my best half marathon time, but it definitely was not my worst. Nevertheless, I finished - and that was the goal. Just to finish.

Ahhhh!!!

I don't know that I've ever wanted something so badly. I couldn't wait to cross the finish line, my come-back-kid performance, and know that I could still do it. I could - can- still run long distances. Y'all, it was the best feeling, and I still cannot believe that I did it.

Prior to LC, I kinda took it for granted. I practically stayed ready for a half marathon.
My last half was March 1, 2015 at 6 months pregnant.
I stopped running after that, and I never thought I'd do it again. The excuses and hurdles just seemed too much to overcome --- I had gained so much weight. Two of my running partners moved. My other running partner dumped me. I had a c-section and did not recover well. And looking back now, I'm pretty certain I had a tough, extended bout with postpartum.

But through the struggle comes growth, right?
I'm fairly certain it's true.

Neda and me just before the starting gun.

Half Sisters --- 13.1!

Loved having my biggest cheerleaders there. :)

Welcome home, welcome home.

This One's Not Funny

2016-12-19T06:21:00.002-06:00

This blog isn't funny or clever.

But life is.

And so are moms.

Isn't it funny how they're are always right?

I'm still waiting on that to describe me...

My mom always thought I'd grow up to be a teacher even though I wanted to be a hair-cutter-girl, a nurse, an occupational therapist.

She was right - I came around to what I'm sure is my calling.

And I love it.

I sometimes feel guilty about that, especially when others talk about how much they hate their jobs. I feel guilty that I love my coworkers, dealing with a circus, my kiddos. Things get crazy sometimes. There are days I really want to quit.

But when I compare it to other jobs I've held, this one take the cake --- easily.

One of my favorite times at school is right before Christmas break.

It's wild and truly a mad house! Not only are the kids anxious, but the teachers are, too.

I love seeing the kids come in lugging bags of gifts or treats for their parties.

I love the joy kids get from sharing Christmas cheer.

From a homemade card, to nicely wrapped gifts - the joy is the same.

This year, among the candles, candies, and niceties I received, one gift stands out.

It was from a little boy that I just adore - I seriously love this kid. He stood over my desk and pointed to a bag with no name on it.

"That's from me."

Inside was a rice crispy treat and a small plastic flute.

He sheepishly grinned as I hugged him and said my thanks and vowed to learn to play a tune over break.

I love it.

Regift or not, he thought of me.

That's when I got it --- it's the thought that counts.

Does it make me an adult that I understand that old adage?

Probably so.

And I'm ok with that.

This year, I'm embracing the thought.

I've not stressed over gifts or scheduling.

We're geared up to enjoy our time together.

I'm making a point to spend quality time with family, catch up with friends, and soak up the moments - even if they are a bit different this year.

This is the first year I will not be waking up at my parents' home in Tennessee.

Typing that now, it kinda makes me get all teary eyed.

But it's time to begin new traditions.

Our families have graciously rearranged traditions to accommodate our wish to wake up as a family in our house. That also makes me get all teary eyed.

I'm so excited to see my family this season, to spend time with them laughing and sharing stories.

I can't wait to see LC experience Christmas morning.

I can't wait to see the joy on Adam's face as he watches her.

So, here's to new traditions.

To not stressing over the gifts I haven't bought.

Or the cards that still haven't been sent.

To not flipping out over the special Santa cookie plate or milk glass we don't have.

To remembering the thought that means so much.

And to enjoying the moment.

And now for a few moments from last year ---

Look at this little one last year!!!

Hahaha!

Christmas 2015 - 5 mo

Christmas 2016 - 17 mo

And now cue the tears! ;)

I'll show you mine if you show me yours...

2016-12-10T06:20:00.001-06:00

Wouldn't you know it -
- on the one day of the week I can sleep in, I can't.

It started pretty early today - around 3:30 a.m. - when LC began fussing in her crib. I tried to let her fuss herself back to sleep, but it was soon evident that she needed a little help. I tip-toed out of the bedroom and into the living room where the dogs were curled up snoozing in the warm glow of the undecorated Christmas tree. Stealthily making it past the fur babies, I strategically picked my footing - around a minefield of blocks, bracelets, and stuffed animals - and made it into LC's room. There she sat, bare feet sticking out of the crib, tiny hands holding onto the rails, and tears streaming down her face. She just needed mommy. I wiped away the tears and rocked my precious baby back to sleep. Even though it was crazy early, I wasn't quite ready to put her down. The quiet, still moments with LC are few and far between, so even at 4:00 in the morning, I must cherish them. I rocked on and reached for my phone.

Facebook.

No one was up, but I hadn't surfed in a while.
I love seeing the posts and pictures - nosing in other people's lives.
But how often does that nosing turn toxic?
How many times have I looked at photos posted of friends out having fun and compared that to my current reality? That most often occurs at the most difficult times.
The times that I am exhausted. House an utter disaster.
Sleep deprived.
Stressed.
Lonely.
Covered in food or snot or milk --- none of which were mine...

The comparison game began as I rocked and rocked and rocked.
I tucked LC in and made the perilous journey back to my bedroom.
But I couldn't sleep.
The wheels were turning - the Facebook photos lingered in my mind.

The perfect Christmas decorations.
--- mine are in the attic.
The great Christmas card family photos.
--- nope. We didn't get one of those.
The friends out having fun.
--- I spent Friday night at home.

It bothers me that we only put the pretty stuff out there to see.
It bothers me that it's in my nature to compare.
So that's why I always try to include a little bit of crazy.
Try comparing yourself to that.
I can't be alone in the comparison game, right? Please tell me I'm not the only one!
Maybe we can compare the crazy instead? I'll show you mine if you show me yours...?
Surely you too live in chaos sometimes.
Maybe...?
If not, think you could just tell me a little white lie to make me feel better? Isn't that what friends do? ;)

Whatever the case, here's a tour of my crazy.
Pitty me.
Laugh at me.
Or laugh with me!
Whatever the case, remember that we're all just doing the best we can.
And sometimes our best is just gonna be a little crazy.

Let's begin with meal time ---

Gotta learn to use a spoon...right?

And we obviously need to rub our entire face when eating beans. Duh.

Routinely forgetting to use a bib. #MomFail

Next up are a couple photos from the "While You Weren't Watching" series.

Rolls and rolls of fun.

Here, LC is covered in coffee.
Don't worry.
It was cold coffee.
Because who has time to sit and actually enjoy a cup of coffee?

In my defense, it was on my night stand.
She must have gotten taller...

These are from the Fall Family Photo Fail series.

Adam and I had a fight on the way there. We were late. And LC busted her nose at the end of the session. So glad I wore a nice cream sweater...

Bad hair.
Double chin.
Loads of fun.
*eye roll*

Yep. Keeper right here.

And how could we leave off the wonderful attempt at a family photo on the beach?
Priceless.

And I'll leave you today with a great video of LC and me playing Peek-A-Boo.

Bless it. Don't worry, though.

She didn't even cry!

Writer's Block

2016-10-07T05:20:00.002-05:00

Wow.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
Honestly!
After all this time together - all the real talk we had during my pregnancy, during LC's first year of life - all that time together and you never told me!
You never once mentioned that ---

it doesn't get easier.

It just gets different.

It gets weird.

The reality of it, though, is that I can't entirely blame you! Mom (and dad!) life is tough. Tougher than I ever thought it would be. Man, I totally get it that we're all down here in the trenches just trying to survive. Trying to find that lost shoe. Trying to clear a path through the house. Trying to make sure that we all go out in public fully clothed and free from wearing lunch in our hair. While rewarding, I go to bed each night purely exhausted. Sometimes I sleep like a log, other times I sleep so little that I still rock the zombie mom status the next day. It's all good though.

But all that's to tell you ----

it doesn't get easier.

It just gets different.

It gets weird.

And you never mentioned that to me.

I have this idea.
This idea that scares me silly.
But an idea, nonetheless, to write about about it.
About growing a baby.
And about surviving the little monster.
And about how fun that little monster gets to be.
I would LOVE to write a book about it.

Hahaha, with allll this free time I have... ;)

But anyway, LC is so much fun now. She pretty much runs the show here, and we're cool with it.
I'll leave you with pictures because I just can't seem to find the words anymore (dreaded writer's block?!?). And besides, pictures are fun!

Wardrobe is ready for Halloween!

Mom: Human Jungle Gym

LC at Isom's Orchard pumpkin shack.

Really, who has time to smile for a picture when there are Cheerios and chips to be had?
She's definitely my child.

This was taken on LC's first birthday. :)

Year One

2016-07-01T10:18:00.000-05:00

My Darling Daughter,

Well, we did it.
365 days later and you are still alive.
Your father and I are still married.
And we've only thrown one remote and one frying pan.
(Forgive us, but you just wouldn't stop crying!)
Ah, those were the early days. Last July. August. And probably September, too. All that crying.
Allllll that crying.
But now, my beautiful girl.
Now your smile lights up a room, my life.
Your infectious gap toothed grin, proudly displaying your 8 pearly whites.
Those razor sharp teeth which can clamp down on anyone (mostly me) with unparalleled strength for a mere 16 pound person.
And after that powerful chomp, you laugh.
Not because you intend to hurt, but because it's funny.
My face rearranged into a grimace from the pain, quickly changes once again as soon as your bubbly giggle fills the room.
Just like your toys.
They fill the room too.
Every corner, flat surface.
They're everywhere.
Just like you.
Scooting. Crawling. Walking.
You've left no room untouched.
No cabinet unexplored.
No dirt untasted (poor houseplants).
You've conquered it all.
And yet there's so much more that awaits you.
And us.
What new adventures will year 2 bring?
Only time will tell.

Happy birthday.
And thank you.
Thank you for bringing me the joy I didn't know I needed, more love than I knew possible, and the wrinkles I won't admit to having.

4 Things I've Learned

2016-06-30T06:42:00.002-05:00

It's 6:00 on a summer morning.
I'm up and coffee is in hand.
I'd love to still be buried in my covers, snuggling in my warm bed.

Remember my girth? Sheesh. This was my last
picture before heading into the hospital!

But if I want any chance of alone time, I must be up before the enemy.

So I am.

But this time last year.
Maaaaan.
I was probably up pretty early last year, too.
I was so big that sleeping was difficult.
Sleeping.
Eating.
Walking.
Errthing was difficult.

This past year has flown by.
Time flies when you're having fun, right?
Time also flies when you're functioning on very little sleep and act similar to a zombie.

But through sleep depravation, intense fatigue, and many a sticky situation, it's been the best year yet.
In honor of being retrospective this morning, I thought I'd share a few things I've learned along the way.

1. Priorities
I never thought it'd happen to me, but it did. I became that person who snaps a million photos of my child and wants to share all of them. Because everyone needs to see just how cute my favorite girl is, right? I have approximately 800 photos on my phone. Any guesses on how many of them are of LC? Nearly 500. And then there are the ones I've already uploaded to my computer.... Someone told me I'd run out of space on my phone due to photos. I didn't believe them. How could someone do so many interesting things that I need to take a bjaillion photos? Oh little did I know that even avocado covered faces are cute if it's your baby's face!

2. Mom Status
I always wondered why moms all seemed to wear high waisted pants and have short hair.
I totally get it now.
It's been almost a year, and my body is still hanging on to some of my baby/ice-cream/pizza weight. It's mostly in this odd floppy part of my belly, and that's ok. I'm working on it. But man do those high waist pants do wonders of for the mushy belly! I totally get it. And the hair. Aside from taking forever to dry (and what all can LC get into while I'm under the dryer...?), long hair is perfect for LC to pull! I know, I know, LC. It's so funny to pull hair when it elicits a shriek from mom!
I'm halfway to true mom status: I have those high waist pants. Short hair, though? It's about to happen!

3. Germs
Admittedly, I've always been a bit of a germophobe.
Open a door? Germ-X.
Touch a shopping cart? Germ-X.
Wave at a stranger? Germ-X.
Ok, not really that bad, but you best bet that I always had some hand sanitizer ready. Now, though. I'm not NEARLY as germophobic as I used to be.
Open a door? Eh, my hand's not sticky so it must be ok.
Touch a shopping cart? Let me wipe it down real good with this baby wipe...
Drop a piece of macaroni? It still looks clean.
There are more important things to worry about than germs.
Like keeping my hair out of LC's reach...

Easily my favorite picture of LC & Adam.

4. The Hardest Job in the World
Momming is the hardest, yet most rewarding job in the world.
Because of this tiny person, my body is a wreck.
My hormones are a mess.
I've cried more in the past year than probably my entire life.
I've smiled more in the past year, too.
I've slept less.
I've appreciated more.
And I've seen my best friend turn into the most amazing father.

Zombie Mom

LC enjoys pancakes.
She may look just like Adam, but this photo proves she is mine.
We eat the same way. ;)

Getting her ducks (and octopus) in a row.

Beach Baby Advice

2016-06-01T21:05:00.002-05:00

Hellooooo, summer!
My oh my how I've waited for sweet summer to arrive.
And boy did we set it off with style!
Immediately after school was officially out, as in one hour later, we departed on our first real vacation as a family of three. I say real vacay because we've taken weekend trips. But this --- this was set to be five nights of pure bliss, complete escape, the ultimate relaxation opportunity after the most challenging school year of my career.

Supposed to be.

Isn't that how it always goes, though? You set out and have these grand plans? Then they all change. But not because you want 'em to. They change out of necessity. Well, my big plans of "pure bliss, complete escape, and ultimate relaxation" changed.

Adam, LC, and I went on a beach trip with another couple; dear friends of ours who will be celebrating their second anniversary this month. They don't have any children, but they love LC oh so much. Well, I think they still do (after all her tantrums and whatnot...). Being around them for five nights really allowed Adam and me to reflect on our pre-baby life vs. our baby life.

As Adam and I drove back home, we had an opportunity to come up with some things we'd like to tell our younger selves - or maybe even pre-baby couples - about beach vacations.

1. Enjoy spontaneity.
Routine is everything. Put it on a t-shirt. Tattoo it on your ankle. Break your baby's routine and you ruin everything. This first lesson was learned early on. Like 4:30 a.m. early.

2. Sand must be one of the plagues.
Sand gets everywhere. And it sticks around like an annoying younger sibling. Babies are just naturally sticky to begin with, so baby + sand is bound to be a dangerous combo. That, coupled with the fact that babies LOVE to put everything in their mouths is just great. Sand clump? Lemme eat it... Don't be surprised to find some sand in your baby's diaper. Both when you go to change it today AND when you change it tomorrow. And that baby powder everyone tells you to use to help get the sand off sticky baby? It's just as bad. Now the sand is on the bottom of your feet, and you (as well as the house) are covered in a fine dusting of baby powder that just won't go away. And the baby's trying to eat that, too...

3. See food.
That's about all you'll do. You will no longer taste that delicious $20 seafood platter you've been longing for. By the time you wrangle the baby, painfully contort your sunburnt body to retrieve the toy from under the table, clean up the drink spill, and apologize to the strangers giving you the stink eye due to the baby's surprisingly loud pterodactyl-like scream, your food will just barely have warmth remaining. Then, before you start baby wrangling again, you will inhale your entire platter of food at an alarming yet impressive speed. On a good note, though, doesn't speed eating increase your metabolism? At least that's what I tell myself....

All in all, we had a great time.
Great memories.
AND great pictures. :)
Enjoy.

Hmm, wonder why we're up so early....

Hmm...wonder why someone's already napping....

I don't even know.

My girl loves the sand.

LC is pictured here in escape mode. :P

Quite possibly my favorite.

Now.

Now I share a photo that almost caused me to pee my pants. This is a photo I share with you simply because I want you to experience the same Can't-Breathe-Almost-Pee-Your-Pants belly laugh that I had when I first laid eyes on this photo. Honestly, I'm not sure how or WHY I made this expression. I mean, is this even real life? It can't be. I don't even know.

Ready?

Just know that I must really like you to share this.

Seriously.

No words.
Just no words.

Did you pee your pants?
I hope so.
:)

The Post Where I Whine About My Mushy Body

2016-04-25T11:00:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I last posted.
Sorry!

It seems like life just gets in the way.
Meetings. Naps. Baths. Playtime. Grocery shopping.
It all tends to pile up and muddle my days. However, I'm working on it. I'm working on carving out little pieces of time for myself - time to do what I want, what makes me happy.
But it. Is. Hard.
I don't have to tell you that, though.
Painting my toenails, writing blogs, relaxing in a bath, shaving my legs ---- they all seem like luxuries these days. Haha!

This is my crazy child.

This is my child giving me a heart attack/eating the high chair at a pizza place.

My child trying to eat me.

So, where to begin with an update...?
Maybe starting with my Nosy Nelly would be easiest.
My best gal is now 9 1/2 months old. Well, really she's nearing 10 months old. That, my friends, is just flat out crazy.

At 9 months old, LC...
- LOVES baths
- would rather explore the house than play with toys
- crawls all over the place
- can pull up
- says "dada" and "uh oh" quite a bit

Now for the ugly part.
At nearly 10 months postpartum, I still admittedly rock my maternity jeans.
Ughhhh. I can shimmy into some of my pre baby clothes, but I have all these strange lumps now. And I'm so squishy! I gained nearly 50 pounds when carrying LC, and I am still hanging on to at least 5 of those pounds. But I feel like it's in different places. Am I the only one? Please tell me no.

I'd love to have lost all of my baby weight....eh, my pizza & ice-cream weight, really....by the time LC turns 1 year old. I don't feel like that's asking too much. Two months until she's one. That's 8 weeks to get it right. I can do this. Right????

I guess I'm putting this out there - publicly whining about it - so that you'll keep tabs on me. Check in, ask how it's going. Knock the candy bar or ice-cream outta my hand. That kind of stuff. It's pitiful, but I can't do it alone. I just can't --- I've tried! Without folks pushing me, checking on me, encouraging me, I slip back into my lazy couch, pizza routine. I'm a boss at meal planning, but it's just so easy to choose Zaxby's or Dairy Queen over my healthy meals. Ughhh. First class ticket on the struggle bus, guys.

Adam recently started an Adovcare 24 Day Challenge and is loving it. He's lost weight. Feels better.
And I'm jealous.
I want to look better.
I wanna have more energy.
I wanna fit into my clothes!!!

So, with that being said, I've decided.
I'm gonna do it too.
And let me tell you, I was skeptical.
I'm always skeptical of stuff you buy.
But seeing is believing, right?

I'm gonna start a 24 Day Challenge on May 1st and you're welcome to join me. I can help us meal plan if you help keep me in line! :) There's a short video on the challenge that I watched; I found it to be pretty informative. www.24DayChallengeMovie.com

Either way, please check in with me.
Ask me how it's going.
Read my blog posts for updates.
Ask if I forget.
And don't hesitate to be mean to me if I'm slurping down a Blizzard. ;)

LC's 9 month photos - this is the first photo of us together that I actually like - I didn't cringed at the way I look!

Ready.

2016-03-12T06:22:00.003-06:00

It's a good morning.

My back door is open.
Outside, the birds are singing a wonderful tune as my sweet Buddy plods in and out.
The decision between soft comfy bed and the sweet waking world is a tough one.
For now, we're both inside.

I'm currently the only one awake - save my furry companions.
My ever trusty cup of coffee is by my side.
This is a rare, coveted moment of peace.
But butterflies are fluttering away in my stomach.

It's different this time.
Different feeling.
Different rituals.
Different running pals.
Different race.
Different.
But I'm certain it'll be fun.

I'm sure that I'll be significantly slower.
My face will be as red as a lobster.
I will probably have trouble moving later today.
And I will undoubtedly pee my pants.

But here I am.
Excited - kinda.
Prepared - kinda.
Ready - totally ready - to run a race.

My future running buddy.

Must teacher her proper selfie etiquette ASAP.