I’m beyond addicted to coffee. 

Not only do I require it by at least 8:00 a.m. in order to function, I honestly just love the taste. I mean, really LOVE it. It just makes me happy. The smell, the taste, the warmth … I can’t even tell you how depressing it was when I was pregnant with the Toddler and I had to cut it out completely.

Actually, that’s a lie. I never cut it out completely. I tried. But then, finally, I broke down and asked my OBGYN “how terrible is it really if I drink a cup of coffee or two a day?”

She said “it’s fine,” and I kind of wanted to hug her. Then she followed it with “You’re gaining a lot of weight … have you considered Weight Watchers?” and then that huggy feeling went away.

I really want to have another baby, like, yesterday, so I’ve been trying to cut back slowly. I’m hoping that when I do pop up pregnant it won’t be such a shock to my system if I’ve been tapering off slowly.

It’s not going well.

I am a Starbucks girl and if I had the money thought my husband wouldn’t bother me about it, I promise I would hit the drive-thru twice a day. Once at 7 a.m. and once at about 3 p.m.

I would order a venti latte in the morning and a tall latte in the afternoon. Maybe with whip, if I was feeling skinny that day. I have put a lot of thought into this.

Alas, that adds up to about $10/day on lattes, and that, my friends, equals an embarrassingly expensive habit. On top of my other embarrassingly expensive habits.

And so, I have grudgingly accepted my fate that is a $5 bag of Community Coffee.

I love my mama.

Yesterday was one of those times when I just needed my mother. I called her and we talked for an hour and then all was right again. Sometimes I just need to hear her voice. There’s something about it that still calms me even though I’m a grown woman with a child of my own.

I’m Southern and I call my parents Mama and Daddy. It probably makes me sound ten, but I will always call them that. I’ve been thinking a lot about them lately. They are young — only 21 when I was born — and I’m an only child. I’m close to them. My parents are very unusual people. That’s an understatement.

I went to boarding school at 14 and never really came back home until I hit a quarter-life crisis at 23. That’s a whole other post.

In high school, I sobbed to my mother on the pay phone in the lobby of the dormitory when my heart got broken or heard that one of my friends was talking behind my back. I called her on this same phone when I got an A on a big test … or when I needed money.

Now, I live far away and I still have to call her on the phone to talk. I’m always so jealous of people who can go have lunch with their mothers on a whim, or can drop their child off at Grandma’s so they can get their nails done. 

I have literally spent half of my life living away from my parents, but they still have a huge influence on me. I hope that I can be as close to my children as I am to my parents.

It’s official!

I’m heading to Chicago in just a few weeks for a much-needed girl’s weekend, and it’s going to be fabulous. I haven’t done anything like this since I was in college. And come to think of it, none of the “girl’s weekends” I’ve had in the past involved fancy hotel rooms or plane tickets.

I do believe this is one of the perks of being a grown woman.

I went to the eye doctor today.

… IT’S SATURDAY!

I am now ready for the season. I am so excited about my new wreath I can hardly stand it. In fact, I can’t wait to get home this afternoon so I can admire it from the driveway.

I bought it at Hobby Lobby for $35. I think I may have discovered a new obsession. Wreaths just add a little something extra and THAT, my friends, is never a bad thing.

Do you know how hard it is to take a picture of yourself inconspicously when you work in a cubicle?!

It’s difficult. And I’m pretty sure at least one person saw me do it.

I have to make a speech in front of hundreds of people two weeks from Monday. Granted, it will be a short speech … but still.

This is me taking a minute and trying to maintain my sanity(why does my left eye look freakishly larger than my right? I will need to look into that).

If the past few awful months have taught me anything, it’s to take one hour, one day, one event, at a time. It takes practice, but I’m getting better at it.

I swore I would never do it.

I never wanted to be “that” mom. The one that discusses her child’s poop. No one wants to hear about it, really. And I know that. Yet despite my best efforts, I failed.

My toddler is afraid to poop. For reasons unknown to me, he is so terrified of the act that he is spending a lot of time and energy holding it in. It’s worrisome, it’s weird, and we’re working through it. I am so consumed with solving this problem that I felt the need to discuss it during lunch.

I met my girlfriends from work at our usual time. We chatted about what is new this season in footwear. We discussed whether or not wearing high-heeled, tall boots means you’re looking for a good time (I submit that it does not).

Read the rest of my column here!

What do you think of our new look?!