First Day of School Success

Here's a run down...

1.  We made it to school on time. And holy crap. Look how much they've grown in two years!

2. The traffic was CRAZY for both drop off and pick up. Newbs jack it up every time. Well, Newbs and Morons. You'd think by middle school, people would have the procedure burned in their brain. Wrong. I'm sure I've got a whole other post back in the archives where I incessantly complain about this. I'll see if I can find it. I ended up dropping both boys off WAY before the actual drop off spot just so they wouldn't be late.

3. I was able to score a quick meeting (mid-morning) with the head cafeteria lady about ONE of my kid's issues with overspending at lunch and how could we put a stop to that. Found the solution! I filled out a quick form and voila! No more snack bar or extra items unless he has cash. Boom. Problem solved. Our lunch budget just shrunk. Yay us! Haha, one kid who has zero impulse control. You're on a cash only basis from here on out, Brother. You just got played.

4. I was finally able to go get my nails done. And have coffee with a good friend. All the smiles.

5. The bottom fell out of the sky about the time elementary school let out. It was a slow drizzle by the time middle school let out. And nobody melted on the way to the car. But it rained, y'all. Hard. And the thunder sounded so beautiful. Of course when I got home, not a drop. Ugh. But it's cloudy again today. So fingers crossed! Let it pour.

6. BOTH boys had a great day. Only one teacher complaint. I reminded him that some teachers have different techniques in establishing control on that first day. Let's give her a little bit before we write her off as "worse than the angry pregnant teacher from last year." The first day can be more stressful than others. And who knows what she'd just dealt with in the class before. Or at home. Or just life. So we agreed to cut her some slack.

7. For the most part, we all got to bed at a reasonable hour. I, however, am a slow learner and managed to find crap to do. I had lists to make of all the things I needed to do today.

8. No homework policy this year. Oh my yes. Yes. And yes. Teachers teach, parents parent. I love it. They'll still have to study for quizzes and tests. And they can do extra practice work. But the policy is no homework. This alleviates the pressure so stinking much. I will have rested kids who are ready to learn the next morning. And the homework battle goes away. Because they've been doing school ALL day. Their brains and bodies are worn out. This gives me such much of the happies.

9. Our lists for more stuff wasn't too excessive. I'll get some time this weekend to put together some teacher goodies. Not cookies. They get that stuff from errrrbody. I'm talking about post-its and dry erase markers and red grading pens. Stuff they can use. Because good grief, they aren't in this profession to get rich. They're in in to teach kids. My kids. And I don't want them to sacrifice too much of their own $$ that should go to support their own families. Love on your kids' teachers. (Even the angry pregnant ones. Especially the angry pregnant ones!)

10. My oldest smiled. A lot. Which is such a blessing, you don't even know. He struggles with anxiety and depression. Big time. He LOVES his Spanish teacher. And not just because she gave him Mexican candy. He said he can tell he's really going to learn a lot in there. But that smile, y'all. Oh my heart. I cried many tears over the past four months trying to figure out how best to help him. I think a medication change and getting back to school, a schedule, and his friends was just the trick. God is good. This is scary stuff for parents. Scary. Pay attention to your kids. When something isn't right, get help. Listen to me. Get. Help. I don't want any of you guys, or us, being another statistic. Have conversations. Be involved. Ask questions. Lots of them. Check their technology devices. Love them. Love them hard. Love them when they are the hardest to love. And if you EVER need to talk. You get a hold of me. We'll talk. We shouldn't have to do this alone and we should never be embarrassed.

I've got that to-do list I made at midnight to tackle.

Happy Friyay, Y'all!

*muah*

Crisis Averted!

We did it, y'all. We did it.

I got Cameron to Sport's Clips around 10:00 this morning. But it was nearly a bust. Their credit card machine was down. I never have cash on me. Never. I asked if they'd take a check. Yes. But guess what? My checkbook was in my purse. At my house. Because I had my wallet.

*facepalm*

Seriously?

I booked it over to the ATM and grabbed some cash. (I also ducked in to Market Street to grab a Starbucks. Because of my reality. I needed some juice, man.)

Made it back to Sport's Clips and they called him back two minutes later. Whew.

I guess he wasn't too angry about his haircut (which is MUCH shorter than he prefers) because he suddenly became agreeable on tennis shoes. Actually, we compromised. We settled on Chuck's. Because he's a swimmer, he doesn't need running tennis shoes.

Winning.

However, the swim jammers (those tight swim trunks that reveal way too much "shape") were no longer for sale. Dang it! He's supposed to have those by Friday.

Losing.

To the Interwebs... God bless Amazon Prime.

Back to winning.

The lessons learned, y'all. They're real. I have the additional gray hair to prove it.

We are ready for school to start tomorrow. Not emotionally. But we have what we need. At least until after school tomorrow when we get never before seen supply lists. Those always happen.

Let's do this. Brace yourself for back to school pictures with fake smiles.

Time to Eat a Little Crow

You know how yesterday I was all smarty-pants, braggy, mom of boys, who has it SO easy and was only going to do my minimal back to school shopping and preparation today - - two days before school starts - - without issues.

Holy crap. Not the case. Not even close.

Here's the thing. I hate shopping for myself. Add in a couple of boys who have eleven hundred million thousand other things they'd rather be doing. I hear ya, kids. Me, too. I hate dressing rooms. I hate not knowing what size I need to look for. I hate cringing at the price I'm going to have to pay for clothes they will grow out of. Or "accidentally tear holes in." I hate all the things that shopping entails. And just because my list was small, don't think that my day didn't suck.

The oldest was awesome.

The little, not so much. He likes to browse. A lot. And he has a flair for the expensive items. And his taste is a little too thuggy for my liking. That made shoe shopping stop dead in its tracks. I called David and verbally tagged him. This is the second incident of this sort with him and I'm politely bowing out. I'm actually saving both of our sanity is what I'm doing. Also, the kid is 5'2" and weighs 90 pounds. He's a tall, super skinny, drink of water. Buying jeans for him is a straight up nightmare. Is there a super skinny, slim jean for a tall 12 year old boy with basically no body fat? The answer is a resounding NO. You have to use those button thingies on the sides to cinch them up tight.

We left without jeans.

I came home and ordered them online. *fingers crossed*

And haircuts? Oh silly me. Perish the thought. Lot's of back to school haircuts happening today. I might as well grab my Kindle and go tomorrow. Because that didn't even happen today.

We did get all of Justin's clothes, shoes and backpack. And he was tickled to death. Cameron got a few shirts and his backpack. So the day wasn't a total bust. Much was accomplished.

But I want to make this all official. Shopping for back to school clothes is not easy for anybody. I retract it all. I'm sorry if I misled you.

After all of that, I have to go back to Academy tomorrow to try to find swim jammers and goggles for Cameron. Go ahead, stores. Take all my money.

*sigh*

I'm not ready for school to start!

How to Back to School Shop for Boys

So little prep work needs to be done to ready ourselves for the school year. Because I'm the mother of boys. Middle School boys who aren't 100% into their looks yet.

Here are their needs:

Jeans (NOT shorts, because they don't like them. Which I find very odd because I have an aversion to wearing pants at all.)
Tennis shoes (one pair, they don't care)
New backpacks (because the ones from last school year have holes in them)

Here are my add-ons:
Haircuts
Socks

We have done none of these things yet.

I've purchased school supplies, sporadically, over the summer. I even have a school supply closet in my house. I have just about everything they can possibly need. I will send them with a pencil, a pen, notebook paper and a folder to bring home their specific lists from teachers. I'll hit up the closet and hope for the best after their first day. WHICH IS THURSDAY!

We were going to do those things today, but I was 100% not productive this morning and then managed to get myself a migraine this afternoon.

So Tuesday is the magic day. We will shop for their needs and my add-ons on Tuesday. I expect a fair amount of complaining. They hate shopping. I hate shopping with them. But they've got to try on those jeans and shoes. In my perfect world, this excursion will only involve three stops. A department store for the jeans, sporting goods store for the shoes (and possibly some hoodies and socks), then next door to Sports Clips for a quick haircut. Boom. Done.

At least that's my dream. I dream big. Thank the good Lord above He didn't give me girls. He knew I would not be able to do that. I saw several moms posting about shopping trips out of town with their girls. I shuddered a lot and thanked God for my smelly boys. I'm spoiled.

Wish me luck. I will only throw them some mom eye once. After that, I'll have a dance off. In the store. With loud music. Probably mid-late 80's. And I won't care one bit. Because I have the moves.

Let's do this, Boys...

More Changes and Updates

So, here I am again. The absent blogger.

A few events have transpired lately that have led me to make a few changes and my approach to writing. I'll try not to bore you with the details. But I'll see how I can best update you.

Most of you know that I have been doing some freelance writing for the local newspaper. I REALLY appreciate the opportunity they gave to a never-before published writer. I wrote about mom stuff and thoroughly loved doing it. The feedback from readers of the actual, physical copy of the paper were wonderful. I usually posted links to those columns on Facebook. (Save one that I hated the way I was edited.)

I have decided to part ways with the paper. For a couple of reasons.

1.  They couldn't afford to pay me for my column anymore. I spent the last year-ish writing for free. Because I love writing. I love my audience. And honestly, I love being published. It's a writer thing. It's validation that your work is appreciated.

The paper changed ownership a few times and eventually, the editors that I'd grown to love left. The ones who believed in me and often complimented me on my writing. I loved that. And I miss their presence at the paper terribly.

But let's be honest. In this electronic age, the direction of a printed paper is changing fast. We have the world at our fingertips. So when they say they can't afford me, I want to believe them. But when I see what I think are "stupid" columns that they chose to keep, I can't help but wonder. *coughcoughweeklywinecolumncoughcough* Whatever.

2. This one was the real kicker for me. It's no secret that I'm a pretty conservative person. I don't particularly call myself a Republican anymore. Because I think politics in general have lost their collective minds. I have my specific set of beliefs and I really believe in surrounding myself with people that think differently than me. Respectfully disagree. (Translation: Don't be an a-hole about it and we're cool.) I digress. Recently the paper reposted an article written by one of their writers from the main paper. You can research it and figure it out. I don't want to mudsling. When I read the column, I sat there with my mouth flung open. I knew, right then, I couldn't be associated with them anymore. It was time to part ways.

My work is my work. And I want it to stay that way. I am not opposed to freelance work for other blogs or publications that are specific to my subject matter. But I will no longer participate in writing for anyone that is so openly opposed to how I believe. Line drawn in the sand.

I try, REALLY hard, to keep politics out of my writing. And my posts, likes, comments on Facebook. I haven't always been that way. The arena is just too downright hostile. And I don't want any part of it.

So what's my plan?

I plan to keep writing. But instead of it being put in print for free, I'll put it here for free. I'm going to try VERY hard to keep this blog updated like I used to. Then my ultimate goal is to let go of my excuses and get back to work on a book.

If you enjoy reading what you get here, please share it. I'd love that. And I totally understand if you want to give me more time to get some more consistent posts under my belt. Today, I have a ton of ideas to write about. Which always happens when I have a lot to do. Which is something I'll try to write about this weekend.

You guys have been absolutely amazing. I can't thank you enough for your loyalty, belief in me, loving me, encouraging me and just listening.

This is real life up in here. I'm not going to gloss over anything. I'm going to continue to show you the good, the bad and the ugly.  All of it. Not "Debbie-Downer" style. But real.

So buckle up, Cupcakes. We're going to do this.

Love Y'all!

*smooches*

Happy Bath

Because of a semi-meltdown yesterday, I knew it was time for a happy bath. I need to soak off the bad and absorb the good.

I poured in some epsom salt. Then I mixed some Peace and Calming essential oil by Young Living with a little bit of grapeseed (carrier) oil. Oh my. It was heavenly.

I watched an episode of Seinfeld on my iPad while I soaked. Which made me laugh. Out loud.

Then I slathered on some body butter which contained more Peace and Calming in it for my restless legs.

More heaven.

I slept like a baby.

Until Roscoe started throwing deep meows in my ear at 4:30 this morning. That must be when he hooks up with his lady friends. I sent his orange furry butt outside and then I fell right back to sleep. AND, because of boss status, I got the kids to school on time this morning. And nobody raised their voices.

I also read a quick devotional about letting go of anger and fear. Interesting timing. God knows.

Tuesday - - let's do this. I can only imagine how epic this day can be once I get my caffeine fix. Which is coming...

A Diamond in the Rough

Do women have mid-life crisis? Crises? What is the plural of crisis?

I always thought it was just dudes. And they bought shiny sports cars. Or did other unthinkable things. I had my hair cut slightly different. Well, if you call the beginnings of an undercut (google undercut pixie) a mid-life crisis, then that's where I am. At least I'm finally trying to do something different with my hair after a gazillion years of basically the same style.

I'm going through some stuff. Maybe I'm finally growing up. I don't know. Some days I still like to walk around outside in my socks and then tell my parents I did that. 46 and still rebelling. Like a boss.

My ability to tolerate BS has hit an all-time low. I'm just done with crap. I see right through most of it.

Hang on. I just looked down at my "old lady hands" and noticed I'm in desperate need of lotion. BRB.

There. That's better. Nice and moisturized. And I stirred the spaghetti sauce. I'm a mult-tasker. And I did that fast, huh? Yes, be impressed.

So, I'm tired of all kinds of things.

I know what I want.

I want to make much of Jesus. I want to study His word. Every day. Make time with Him a priority. I don't always do that. But I'm working on it. Part of that is plugging in at church. Not just attending. But getting involved. We've recently joined a body of Believers that I feel like will enable me to do just that. Plug in. I don't want to be behind the shadow of anyone. I don't want the spotlight. But I don't want to lurk in the shadows either. I want to serve.

I want to be the best wife I can possibly be. Friday is our 17th anniversary. He has put up with my insanity for a long time. And while he's a dude, he truly is my best friend, confidante, lover and provider. He takes such good care of me and our kids. We have a special anniversary trip coming up that I'll tell y'all about later. I'm looking forward to having him all to myself. No kids. Wheeeeeee!

And oh how I want to be a good mother. I learn everyday. These not so tiny humans need me. Even though they think they don't. They do. They need to see Jesus in me. They need me to teach them how to adult even when I don't feel like adulting myself. They need to see and experience grace and discipline. Much of both. Given and received.

I also want to cultivate quality friendships. The older I get, the less I am about quantity. I want quality. I don't want half-assed relationships. I don't want to be a friend of convenience. Not to others, not for others. All in.

I want to be more secure in who I am. And Whose I am. I grew up feeling incredibly insecure about myself. I was teased. A lot. I had my body type made fun of. A LOT. That started in the 8th grade when I saw a picture of me in a tight (yet modest) tank top. I was on a church mission trip. We had taken a side trip to see the Atlantic Ocean. While it was summertime, it was still cold there. I wasn't real educated about how my body being cold could be easily seen by others. And I'm not talking about normal goosebumps. But yes, bumps. My lights were on. Full beam. The picture taken of me was put on a slide show after the trip. I think it was an innocent submission. But there I was, freezing, looking at the beautiful ocean, about to poke a hole in the camera lens with my high beams.

Everyone laughed.

I cried.

It didn't stop there. I was picked on relentlessly after that.

So I hid behind large clothes. Even after an amazing plastic surgeon "made less of me" on the operating table. My shoulders continued to slump and I hid.

I began changing that over the past year by making a few changes. I've started buying clothes that fit me and I started working out in January. I'll get there. I feel better. So there's that.

The bottom line?

I think God is working in my life. He's showing me where I'm supposed to be. Who I'm supposed to be. What I'm supposed to care about. What I'm not supposed to be concerned with. Jesus gave His life on the cross for ME. And you. And He's got my attention. The polishing/refining process can be painful. But I can only imagine what's on the other side of that process.

So here I am. Just another sinner, saved by grace. I fall down and fail often. Bear with me as I grow.

A Sarcastic Conundrum

I have a reputation for being a bit sarcastic. Or a lot. Yes, a lot.

I was once told by someone that they didn't understand sarcasm and didn't find it an endearing quality in a friendship. Said person "broke up" with me during that conversation. Hey, we don't all click. So it's cool with me.

But here is where the problem is: Do you waste sarcasm on someone who doesn't get it if there isn't an audience of someone who does?

My argument is: Yes. You use the sarcasm. Never waste the opportunity for a sarcastic remark. Because, that receiver of said sarcastic remark just might be out with other friends and relay your comment. Then the other friends will get to snicker. I wouldn't want to deny someone a good giggle. I'm a giver that way.

Now, there's an exception. Or two.

I try, really hard, not to be cruel. I don't pride myself in being mean. That's not nice. If your sarcasm hurts someone that bad, don't do it. Know your audience.

Others straight up don't have the mental capacity to understand sarcasm. Think Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. While I like to watch Sheldon endure what his buddies dish out, there are others where it would just be mean. Don't be a meanie.

There's a time and a place. Remember that.

And if your friends are THAT sensitive, well, I guess you truly have a problem. Unless they break up with you.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh. Even if OU does suck. *snicker*

Okay, sometimes I can be a jerk, too. I'm sorry. Sort of.

Don't be jerks. Or wusses.

Stay in school, kids. Just not OU.

Oops, I did it again.

*smooches*

Essential Oils

I'm becoming one of those people. You know, the "I have an oil for that" person. I'm running with it. I've dabbled a little here and there. I started my journey a few years ago when I was working a conference and got a raging migraine headache. Since I was basically helping run the conference, I couldn't bail. And I couldn't take my usual meds. The essential oil ladies offered up some help. And bam! It worked. I've bought a few here and there since. But lately, I've begun to embrace the oil life. I have a friend who is all about the oil. And I needed her advice.

I joined the gym in January (don't stereotype me.) I've been mostly faithful in going. Except this week. I've been in a mood. Like filthy brown mood ring. And going to the gym would have been the best thing for me. But that's a post for another day. And there's probably an oil for my craptastic mood I was in.

Anyway, when I started back at the gym, my restless leg problem came back. Can any of you relate to restless leg syndrome? It happens mostly at bedtime. My legs hate my life and I CANNOT keep them still. It's like they are wired to something electrical. They don't hurt. But I have the constant urge to move them. I know you think it's weird and like a made up "illness." It sounds bizarre, I know. But it's real. And it's my struggle.

So I asked my oil lady if she had any tips. Because I'm SO over just adding another medication to my regimen.

Oh goodness, friends. Her first suggestion worked. The blend is by Young Living and it's called Peace and Calming. I add some drops to coconut oil (the carrier oil) and apply generously to my legs at bedtime. My dry legs are getting moisturized and the oil is doing its job. Bless that. And her. Because I can be still.

Last night, I used their "recipe" to make a roller-ball of oils for sleep. Mr. B and I both used it last night and it was heavenly. Very calming. Not girly. Not over-powering. Just - - chill.

I also made soap today.

So, I'm the oil lady, y'all. I'm seriously digging me some essential oils. I don't care if you think I'm weird. I probably have an oil to help you with your skepticism. I'll check into that for you. Because bless you for thinking I'm weird.

Freezing... For real.

I am freezing my butt off. It's 18 degrees outside y'all. Eighteen. Some of you north of, oh, maybe Interstate 20 don't get my frustration with that number. That is some nasty, slap you in the face, cold weather. There are deer that live in a field by our house and it stresses me out that they're going to be very cold tonight. How do they stay warm? Because that doesn't look like a super heavy coat of fur.

Our fur babies are inside. All four of them. In our room. Mr. B is next to me, snoring. Moe is in my office chair, bathing himself. (He's weird when he does this, and it's loud.) Gus waited for Mr. B to fall asleep before he would climb on his legs to call it a night. Roscoe is running from Gracie. She's chasing him relentlessly. I think he likes it though. They go into our bathroom and play in the empty bathtub. I'm not sure any of my cats are playing with a full deck. Maybe they're in survival mode like me. We do what we can to stay warm.

Look, the struggle is real. We get MAYBE a month of winter down here. And that's a scattered month. Next week, it's going to be back in the 70's.

I'm just sad for the deer. And all of the other critters trapped out in the bitter cold. I wish I could call them up to the house, introduce myself as a friendly, and tell them to just warm up in the garage overnight. I could scatter some hay or something and have a makeshift barn. Then I'd make the kids sweep the deer doo doo out of the garage in the morning.

Now it's seventeen degrees. Fun. Please let this finally kill the mosquitoes.

I'm going to bed. With my heavy down comforter and electric blanket. And feel bad for the deer. Bless them. Bless the cute ones with the white spots on them. And their mamas.

My brain goes weird places when I'm tired. On that note, I'm out.

Goodnight fans.
Goodnight stalkers.
Goodnight deer.
Goodnight Gracie.

Hello 2017!

Hi, y'all.

New year.

New goals.

Blah, blah, blah.

So here's the deal - we're three days in and people are already on my nerves. Why? Because everyone has to have an opinion on something. Everything is wrong with everything. And I'm tired of it. Some examples:

We can't have resolutions anymore or we'll get made fun of. For real. It's a thing. Look, I get that a lot of resolutions seem lame. But perhaps, for five seconds, consider the date. January 1st is a fresh start for a lot of people. And if that's what it takes for you to decide to lose weight, read more books, watch less television, whatever, then go for it. I like the idea of fresh starts. I like goals. I like setting them. And If I want to set a few goals for 2017, then I'm going to do it. If you don't like it? Go sit back down in your "I'm better than that" corner and have a blast looking down on the goal-setters. We'll all just be over here resolutioning our little hearts out. Because we don't care what you think. Have fun not trying to make yourself better. Or at least not telling us that you are. Because, you know, accountability and all that.

Another - - if you smoke weed or do other things that could potentially be harmful for your body or brain cells, please don't lecture me about my diet sodas. Or that I shouldn't eat red meat. Because there are less cares I could give about your "educated" opinion. Seriously, go hang out with Al in one of his super homes and chat over the whole global warming thing. Puh-lease.

Handslappy Christianity - - oh Lort. She went there. Yes. I. Just. Did. I saw it posted this morning. And I was like, oh my goodness. Here we go again. Christians being all judgy of other Christians. I'll say it now and I'll say it loud - - knock it off. If I see a pretty picture with a Bible verse on it and I want to share it on Instagram, I'm going to share it and hope that maybe God uses it to bless someone's day. I know that it's not the Scripture in it's entirety. Oh do I know. Do you know anyone who preaches THE ENTIRE BIBLE in every sermon? No. It doesn't usually work like that. So settle down on your self-righteousness. Love that God's word is out there. And people are sharing it. (This one was a huge face-palm for me thing morning.) Look, Christians - - love Jesus, love others. That part isn't hard. Careful with that plank in your own eye... (Oops, I did it again. Heh.)

I don't know. In today's age of "safe spaces" and all that, I'm just tired. Everything is wrong. People are wrong. You can't say that. You can't think that. Love animals more than you love other humans.

Here's the deal. I'm going to fail. A lot. This year is no exception to other years. But because I'm somewhat of an optimist - - I'm still going to set some goals. And you know what else? I'm going to celebrate when I succeed. And when I fail, I'm going to pick myself up, dust off and start over again. Or re-evaluate.

So you go rock the snot out of 2017. Be proud of who God made you. Set some goals. Don't set some goals. We're all just out here doing our best to put one foot in front of the other one. Some days are harder than others. Back off on the haughty derision and throw a sister some support. We could all use a little more encouragement.

I'll try to post more than twice a year. But don't call that a goal. It's my reality.

Love y'all.

*muah*