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.
Dear General Public,
Please do not wait until you are
1. heavily medicated
2. drunk
3. around screaming children
4. without your hearing aid
5. in the WORST MOOD EVER
6. crying uncontrollably
7. urinating
to handle your insurance business.
Thank you,
Harmony
I’m picky about shoes.
They have to be the right height, look good on my feet, and do that magic thing that heels do that make you look elongated and leaner than you actually are.
I don’t have the money to splurge on the kind of shoes that don’t fall apart. I buy shoes on sale and eventually, inevitably, they fall to pieces.
Here lie my beloved Steve Maddens.
I have been looking for replacement pointy-toed brown leather heels but they are impossibly hard to find. And so, sadly, I continue to wear these even though they look like THIS.
Yes, that is an actual hole in the toe of my shoe. When I wear them in the rain, my feet get wet.
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?!
I made the best decision of my life when I married my husband. We have been through a LOT in the time that we have been together … there have been times when I didn’t know if I made the right decision or not, and I wondered if we would be able to tough it out. There have been times when I threw items at him in anger and felt so upset I didn’t think I would ever get over it.
But, I did get over it. We always made up and moved on. He is not perfect and neither am I, but we are perfect for each other. I am so excited about our future together and what it will bring, and with every obstacle we face and overcome together, I grow more confident in our ability to overcome ANYTHING.
Robbie proposed to me in December of 2004 …
We packed up and moved to Birmingham, AL for no good reason. Here we are on our 1st anniversary:
Then, about three years after that, we had a baby.
… nothing could have made us happier.
But we never stopped having fun. In fact, we have more … just a different kind.
And we are living happily ever after.
I’m 30 now, which means that I have to start faithfully mailing out Christmas cards every year.
You’re welcome.
I’m definitely on the ball this year, because it’s October and I’ve already selected my card from the Snapfish website. I only have to get someone to take a family picture … and … done.
When I first found out that my husband was going to be gone every week for three weeks in a row, I freaked. I mean, on the inside.
Outwardly I smiled, told him I was so excited for him because he was going to get to fly to new places and stay in nice hotel rooms. But in my mind I was thinking “OMG … how am I going to make it with the Toddler all by myself?!”
I have to say, I have really enjoyed every moment I’ve had with my son over the past few weeks. I thought it was going to be stressful to do the single mom thing, trying to juggle it all. But strangely enough, it was the opposite of stressful. I noticed during Week 2 when Husband was in Atlanta that I felt calmer and more like myself than I have in a long time, so I started mulling it over.
I have realized that I feel happy because am good at being a mother. It’s what I enjoy more than anything else. I love to cook, I love to clean, I love being a wife, and I REVEL in motherhood. While my husband has been out of town I’ve gotten a chance to really connect with my son. It’s been a really special time.
It made me wonder what is different when Husband is here. I mulled that over. I have concluded that since I’m a working mother, I always approach our life with an attitude of “everything needs to be equal.” So when I have rushed home from work, cooked dinner, and am in the middle of folding clothes, I will often ask my husband to give Toddler a bath/put him to bed/feed him a snack.
I’ve noticed that I ask him to do this stuff because I feel busy and overwhelmed with household tasks, but then I always wish I was taking care of Toddler instead. I always end up feeling guilty. This experience has made me realize that I would be better off stopping whatever I’m doing and taking care of my child. The laundry can wait. My husband can learn to cook SOMETHING. The house can stay messy. Or, we can hire someone to clean it.
A woman’s work really is never done. And in trying to be everything to everyone, I often forget that my main purpose on this Earth is to nurture my family.
Yesterday, a terrible thing happened.
Let me preface this by saying that I am struggling to adjust to summer break. Struggling. Like … it’s good? But also horrible? Can something be good and horrible all at once? Because I’m pretty sure that is exactly what parenthood is.
Making the transition from having all three kids in school for 6+ hours per day (and working during those hours), to having them home all the time and trying to get my work done in addition to mothering in a loving fashion, is not going great. As I have already established in multiple blog posts from previous years, summer is effing relentless.
Pepper is obsessed with two things: outlets and babies. Here she is showing her baby doll the outlet in her bedroom. #multitasking
Thankfully, this year is somewhat easier than previous years simply because my children are getting older and more independent. Pepper will be 3 next week, so I think we’re finally on the upswing after a very dark time in the Valley of Motherhood.
Yesterday afternoon, we got home from playing at the park. The boys jumped out of the van, heard some kids next door playing, and asked if they could go over to play. I granted them permission and took Pepper inside. Her clothes were filthy — covered in layers of peanut butter and dirt — so I stripped her down to a diaper.
I ran to the bathroom with her trailing behind me, always my little shadow. And then, my mom called. She’s not feeling well and I can barely hear her on the phone. I was straining to understand what she was saying — did she just say she needed to go to the hospital?! — and naturally, my toddler got really loud at exactly that moment. As her shouting drowned out my mother, my stress level started to rise.
I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My daughter cried from the hall, and when she stopped, I was thankful. When I emerged only a few minutes later, the house was quiet. A panicky feeling started to rise in my chest, and then it felt like my heart stopped.
Just.
Stopped.
Beating.
Our back door was standing wide open.
Screaming her name, I ran outside. She was gone. Or hiding. Or missing.
I heard a woman’s voice — our across the street neighbor — yelling at me that she just saw a little girl cut through the fences in the backyard.
“She went that way, sweetheart! I was standing here watching her!”
I was barefoot and it did not matter. I ran. I ran until I found her. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my body. All I could hear was my own voice screaming her name, and my heartbeat deafening my ears. That is what blind panic feels like.
My 2-year-old was wandering one street over from ours, wearing nothing but her diaper. She was holding a toy pet carrier with a little stuffed dog inside. I will never forget the way her face looked when she saw the horror on mine.
“NEVER AGAIN,” I said to her.
“Not with my dog?” she said.
“NEVER, EVER. Do not ever leave this house without a grown up,” I said, as I wiped away my tears.
I’m sharing this story to demonstrate how quickly children can disappear. How many times have I heard stories of toddlers wandering the streets and thought to myself, WHERE WAS THE MOTHER?
That mother is me. I was right there. It happened anyway.
I’m a damn good mom. I am capable. I am aware. I am not negligent. But children are fast. And sometimes quiet. And things happen. So today I’m hugging my babies tight, grateful for their safety, knowing that sometimes other mamas aren’t so lucky.
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Modern Mommy Madness 