There are many things about my appearance that have been neglected (happily) since having babies. Most notably, my hair and my toes. Back in the day I frequented the hair salon and the nail salon.

But now? It’s just too much work. Not to mention the cost. Mostly, I can’t stand to be away from my babies. Like, ever.

Cue my birthday. My sweet mother in law got me a gift certificate to get a pedicure with an offer to watch the babies so I could go. It was extremely thoughtful of her and I have been meaning to go but it has just never happened.

So a few nights ago as Zach and I were drifting to sleep, he says, “Ya know, you could use your pedicure gift card anytime you want. It would make you feel great.”

Hmmm…something was fishy. Zach has never cared a thing about my toes.

I say, “Basically my feet are grossing you out aren’t they?”

“Yes. Totally. Please, for the love get a pedicure.”

And the truth comes out.

So I hesitantly made an appointment for this morning and my mother in law agreed to come over and watch the babies. Did I mention how much I hate being away from them? Like, a lot.

When I woke up this morning I dreaded going. I questioned it, did I really need one? Was I being selfish? Would they be okay without me?

After getting over my anxious thoughts I resoved to go. It would only be an hour, right? We could handle being apart for one hour, right?

Then, I got the babies up, gave them lots of kisses and love, gave them a bath, played and then it was time to go.

It’s interesting that when I slipped in the drivers seat without any tiny humans in their carseats, I felt so free. I was thrilled to being alone.

(I hate admitting that. Does that make me a bad mommy?).

I drove the 3 miles to the nail salon and sat for a solid hour and didn’t speak one word. I was totally silent watching “The View” on TV and enjoying someone rub and scrub my feet.

It was glorious.

Again, am I bad mommy? Are these normal feelings?

Don’t they look great?

So, I did it. I left them and did something for myself. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed it, I still feel guilty.

What is wrong  with me????

Anyway, now, what to do with this hair? It hasn’t been cut for nearly a year and needs help. Any ideas?

Please excuse the no makeup. It’s how I roll these days. 

I don’t know about your house, but at mine, stickers are a big deal. A very big deal people.

My Bitzy is a sticker fanatic. There are stickers on windows, floors, furniture, baby dolls, you name it, it has a sticker on it.

As we have been s-l-o-w-l-y gearing up for potty training (that’s a whole ‘nother Oprah), I’m excited for stickers to be her treat, rather than candy.

Naturally, when PrintRunner contacted me about hosting a sticker giveaway I was thrilled! Now, thanks to PrintRunner, I will receive a set of stickers for hosting this along with the winner! Hooray!

I plan to design a “potty training” sticker for Bitzy. t’s super fun and easy to create custom stickers for your family as well. Try PrintRunner’s stickers printing through their online printing services.

My darling girl has been very into Dora lately, so I’m thinking this one will be a big hit. What do you think? Do you think it will entice her to give up the diapers once and for all? {please say yes}.

Want some too?

You can enter to win 250 Full Color Standard Stickers from PrintRunner! These custom stickers are over a $40 value!

To enter simply leave a comment below telling what kind of awesome stickers you would like to design.

In order to earn extra entires you must “like” PrintRunner on Facebook and leave a comment telling me you did.

Also, you can tweet the following for an extra entry, just leave a comment telling you did with your Twitter Name, “@Littlestories and @Printrunner are giving away stickers!!! Enter to win by May 27th at 11:59pm!”

Deadline of submission is May 27 at 11:59pm. *Giveaway is open to US Residents only, ages 18 years old and above.

Good Luck!

 

Throwback to 1997. My besties Brooke, Caroline, Karen and me. 

Among the interwebs there is a wave of “open letters” and lists of coulda, shoulda, wouldas about the past and offer advice. Some are wonderfully insightful.

Almost always blogs annoy me in their constant negativity, but in this case, I love the theme of looking back and offering advice to other folks…especially when it’s uplifting and positive.

With that in mind, today I am going to begin a series called, “Could.Shoulda.Woulda.” This series will include letters and lists to my former self, letters to young girls, young men, mommies and strangers.

I love the thought of rehashing the past and putting a positive spin on it to (hopefully) encourage others. I hope that this series will do just that.

So, here we go, here’s my very first little story of this series:

Top 10 Things I Wish I Would Have Known in High School

1. Your mother isn’t an idiot. She knows much more than you think. If you show her respect, chances are she’ll respect you right back.

2.  Wearing short shorts/skirts often make your legs look bigger than they actually are. I know that all your friends are wearing them and it’s hard to find modest clothes, but you can find modest shorts and skirts. Your legs will look much better in mid thigh shorts. Trust me on this.

3. Speaking of modesty, I know it’s hard to understand that boys look at your body before you heart. I still have a hard time understanding why it’s so difficult for guys to look into my eyes first, rather than my chest. But ya know what girls? That’s just the way they are made. God made men and women very differently. Part of the wisdom of growing up is understanding that you can curb their lust for you by your clothing. If you dress and act modestly chances are that boys will treat you more respectfully.

4. You’ve probably said or at least thought, “I don’t care what they think about me, I’ll do what I want.” You’ve probably thought this about your parents, siblings, friends or teachers. But darling, as a former 13 yr. old I can tell you that really, you do care very much. Very, very, very much. Don’t let your hormones and emotions get away from you enough to ruin your reputation, because sweet girl, your reputation means everything.

5. While I’m on the subject of reputation, let me give you a gentle reminder that your reputation will be with you forever. The decisions you make now will absolutely effect you later in life. I know that it seems like these four years are taking forever  and you’re bored and frustrated and annoyed at everything in your life, but acting out physically and/or emotionally is not productive. I still regret some of the ways that I treated people in high school based on my bad attitude. Every relationship you have in your life matters, treat them gently.

6. The Bible offers this extremely wise advice in 1 Corinthians 15:33, “Do not be misled, bad company corrupts good character.” I know that you love your friends. Maybe you’ve known them for a long time, maybe you just met. Either way, if they are drinking, doing drugs, having sex, stealing, cheating, and/or any other questionable activity, please hear me on this, it is not your job to fix them. It is not your job to be a good influence on them. It is not your job. It is not your job. It is not your job. Walk away from those friendships and invest in people that believe in good things. Luke 6:45 reminds us that “The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.” That means that whatever you are putting in, comes out. For example, if you are around negative, cursing, bitter people, guess what? Eventually rather than you raising them up they will bring you down. Don’t forget, how you spend your days is how you spend your life. Do not waste it with people that aren’t good influences on your heart and soul.

7. Boys. I know that you like them. I was a bit boy crazy in high school actually, so I know all about it. It’s awesome to get attention and for boys to say nice things, I know that. I really do. But I also know that in almost every single instance dating in high school is a mistake. You’re just too young. You are. You really are. You are too emotional and the boys are too hormonal which is never a good combo. The best case scenario is that you won’t endure massive heartbreak, the worst case is that you will. Enjoy your life with your friends (both boys and girls). Be foot loose and fancy free! Dance, laugh, sing, play sports, be in plays, be in every single club if you want, but resist the urge to get a boyfriend. You’ll thank me later.

8. Stay pure. This one is a tag-along to the one before. I’ve mentioned a few times that boys are hormonal basketcases during high school. Remember? It’s okay. God made them this way. Chances are that at some point you will feel pressure to have a physical relationship with a guy (even if it’s just a kiss). You’ll have romantic intentions and have Taylor Swift playing in your head as he reaches for you. But honey, please hear me. Taylor Swift isn’t playing in his head. He’s probably hearing something a little more like David Guetta’s “Sexy Chick.” Even if he likes you for your heart, when you tempt his hormones, it will be incredibly hard for him to resist you. This is a compliment to you sure, but you are playing with fire if you think your raging emotions and his raging hormones should ever be left alone together. Play it safe, don’t be alone with a guy. Like, ever.

9. Planning for college is important. Where you go is important. Studying is important. It’s all important. BUT, don’t allow the pressure of college to weigh you down. Remember that God loves you more than you know, if you allow Him to guide you, He will. He’ll do a much better job than you ever could.

10. Always remember that you are beautiful. On the inside and out. I know there’s a lot of pressure to be skinny and beautiful, but please realize that you, my love, are the daughter of the King. You are the apple of His eye. When you feel pressure, just remember that. You are loved by the Creator of the whole wide world. Proverbs 31 is a great chapter of the Bible to hang your hat (and your heart on), “Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”

So there you go, this is going into my Bitzy’s baby book, because sadly, someday my baby won’t be a baby anymore and I’ll tell her all these things. Excuse me while I go cry myself to sleep about that.

Do you guys have anything to add? Did I forget something important? Disagree with any of them? Do tell!

My Bitzy? Never a dull moment. 

Here are the top ten reasons that I am getting more and more boring in my old(ish) age.

1. Smart Start is my favorite cereal. Bye-bye Lucky Charms and Special K with Berries, Smart Start has stolen my heart. The combo pack of oatmeal and cereal has me smitten indeed. I have a bowl everyday for lunch.

2. I receive Good Housekeeping Magazine. Granted, I didn’t pay for it (it was a freebie), but still. It does come in my mailbox.

3. I own lots of cardigans. Lots of ‘em.

4. Now I don’t buy cutesy bras. I buy bras that offer support. I can thank nursing for 2.5 years straight for that one.

5. I care about documentaries now. Granted, I still love my tween shows, OTH, The Vampires Diaries, Grey’s Anatomy, etc., but documentaries are becoming more interesting to me.

6. Not only do I check People.com everyday, but FoxNews.com and MSNBC.com as well.

7. I really, truly want a new vacuum for Christmas. I would rather have one than jewelry, clothes or any other fun toy. Just a new vacuum pretty please.

8. My favorite Saturday date night is spent cuddled up with my Zach, watching a movie and eating popcorn. I’ll leave going out to the young folks.

9. I actually wondered what my cholesterol count was the other day. This mere thought makes me feel about 75 years old.

10. I would rather read a cookbook than almost anything else. Fiction? Nah, hand me that Joy of Cooking Cookbook.

Do you feel old and boring too? If so, how? Please make me feel better about my absolutely amazingly wonderful boring life!!! Ha!

I am admittedly disorganized.

Sure, I am somewhat of a clean freak which is sometimes confused to also be an organization freak. Ha, ah, Ha, ha, ha, HA! Not so much.

For example, I sweep and mop most everyday. I pick up toys every hour on the hour, and I can’t stand clutter. But the drawers? The closets? The pantry? They need serious help.

And really? I need help too.

For one thing, my brain just doesn’t work in an organized way. It’s like I don’t even understand how to organize things in the first place, much less keep them organized.

So this is what happens…

Everyone meet Pantry. Pantry meet everyone.

This, friends is my mess.

Want more evidence? There is much, much more.

More? Well, sure, why not?

The other pantry? Here ya go.

And the bottom? It’s a wreck too, thanks for asking.

Is that enough for you to agree that I’m a mess?

Here’s the real truth friends. Most days I am thoroughly exhausted by 7pm after playing, loving, teaching, and mothering my precious ones. During naptime I normally do basic cleaning/laundry and organization just doesn’t fit into the equation. But, I also know that it must be done…sometime.

For an organization dummy like myself it seems so overwhelming! Not to mention that this pantry is a VERY small part of my organizational drama. The drawers/closets/unfinished basement that is loaded with C-R-A-P. If I think about it too long my head begins to explode.

Any tips on how to clean up this mess of the pantry? I figure that little by little I can get this house organized, right? Right people? I need help!

So, help me!

Cashier: “So is this your first?”

Me: “My first what?”

Cashier: (Awkwardly) “The first time you’ll be taking these to a baby shower.”

Me: “Um, typically you don’t take stamps to a baby shower.”

Silence.

Me: “I’m not pregnant. However, this shirt is big and could be mistaken for a maternity shirt, so I’ll give you a pass.”

Friends, this is a Public Service Announcement. Unless there is a baby’s head coming out of my hooha do not ask me if I’m pregnant.

Thanks so much,

Molly

Thank Jesus in heaven I’ve never had a mouse in my house.

Or a goose in my roost.

Or used a moose for a boost.

Or had a wocket in my pocket.

Oh wait! Thank you Dr. Seuss for making everything in my head rhyme all the time.

Ah, I can’t stop!

Anyway, while I appreciate all you animal lovers out there, I’m simply not one of you. I love our puppies (mostly), but mice?

Grody.

I can say with full confidence that I have never freaked out so much in all my life, which, as you can imagine, is saying a lot.

Here’s the story:

One fateful day in college when I was foot loose and fancy free, my roommate and I, Lizbeth, were hanging out in our dorm. Lizbeth was studying (as usual). She was always studying. And I was always pestering her not to study. That was basically our life for 4 years. “Lizbeth, please for the love, stop studying and pay attention to me! Let’s play, sing, dance, shop, eat, anything but study!” Her answer was always and forever, “NO!”

That said, she was down the hall momentarily and I was combing/curling/teasing/hair spraying my hair. As I was playing I saw a flash behind me. It was fast.

I assumed it was nothing and continued frying my hair with a curling iron.

Then, I saw it again.

So, I go over to the recliner in the corner and slightly move it only to find the most horrifying site of my life.

A REAL LIFE MOUSE.

I began screaming uncontrollably. UNCONTROALLY PEOPLE.

I jumped up the recliner and continued screaming.

Non-stop screaming.

Clearly, this caused quite a commotion. The door was open so the entire floor heard me shrieking. Um, loudly.

When Lizbeth heard my incessant screaming as I came face to face with this creature, she came running.

As she was sprinting to my rescue she had a small run in with our door.

Bless Lizbeth’s heart, one may say he had  lots of “run ins” with doors, walls, floors, stairs. I say this with love, of course, as there is literally no one in the world as clumsy as I am.

Anyway, as my knight in shining armour slid directly into a metal door, my hopes of her saving me from the mouse beast were becoming slimmer and slimmer (because clearly it was all about me. Right? Eh, I annoy myself).

As she lay in the doorway of our room with her smashed knee she says, “Molly, what’s wrong with you? Why are you in the chair? What happened?”

All I could get out was, “MOUSE. ROOM. FLOOR. HELP.”

Meanwhile, girls have gathered at the door to see me crouching in the chair in the fetal position screaming and Lizbeth crouching at the door holding her knee looking on the floor for the mouse.

To say it was a hilarious disaster would be an understatement.

Then, ever so gently Lizbeth told me to get down and come out of the room.

“ARE YOU A CRAZY PERSON? THE MOUSE WILL GET ME!”

I may or may not have been a tiny bit hysterical. I also may or may have graduated from the fetal position to doing some sort of football high knee dance in the chair.

Thank goodness Lizbeth, (the bravest of the two of us) got a broom and began the great mouse search, as I was still frozen in the recliner.

As I recall, a tennis racket and a trash bag were involved as well.

My some miracle, my brave and precious friend caught the ferocious mouse, sprinted down the hall and pitched it out the window.

Poor little mouse.

(I hope there are no mouse activist reading this, as I cannot be certain that the mouse lived to tell the tale after being thrown from the 3rd floor of our dorm).

Valiantly, Lizbeth marched back into our room saying, “There. I caught the mouse. I’m going back to study.”

“NO, NO, NO, YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME! WHAT IF IT COMES BACK?!”

I think I saw an eye roll as she went back to studying.

I couldn’t be too upset, she did save my life after all.

And to this day, I’ve never seen a mouse again.

Love to all,

I have always been a casual coffee drinker.

Never anything serious.

I could take it or leave it really.

Even through college, only getting 2-3 hours of sleep a night regularly, I still didn’t care all that much about it. It seemed like a lot work to me. The addiction part of it, ya know? Like, what if I got stranded on a desert island and didn’t have coffee? I would be OK, but what do addicts do about the island scenario? These are really serious matters people!

(This is how my crazy brain works).

Enter: Skinny Peppermint Mocha’s from Starbucks.

Turns out that I just didn’t care about crappy office coffee.

I really care a lot about expensive sugary drinks from Starbucks.

But sadly, at $4 a pop, Starbucks isn’t exactly in the budget. And let’s face it, driving through Starbucks every day takes a lot of time.

Then, along comes Coffeemate and it’s delicious peppermint mocha creamer. Ah, it is so dreamy.

So, I began making an effort to make coffee most mornings. But honestly, with all the morning chaos around here, coffee simply wasn’t at the top of my list.

Then something miraculous began happening.

My amazing husband began making my coffee and unloading the dishwasher every.single.morning.

Talk about a game changer.

Not only did he lessen my workload in the mornings, but he gave me the precious gift of coffee.

Forget Starbucks, Maxwell House is fine by me.

So now, I have my 2 cups a day. Everyday.

Granted my teeth are a little worse for wear, but hey, the caffeine is worth it.

Anyone else addicted to the glorious taste of coffee in the morning? What’s your favorite?

And as for the island problem, I guess I’ll have to just figure it out when I get there. Ha!

When I first moved to Louisville I never planned on staying. My friend Bethany and I moved here on little more than a whim. It was August of 2002. I had recently graduated from college the previous May and had just landed my first real job. To say I was excited would be an understatement.

It seemed like a fun place, and hey, why not? We were 22, had a new shiny college degree and were ready for an adventure!

Trouble was, after a few months of our VERY! EXCITING! ADVENTURE! I was a bit homesick and frankly, the luster of a new place was wearing off. Annoying things like bills, boys and responsibilities were wearing me down.

Little did I know that God was beginning to do a great work in my heart.

One wonderful thing about moving to a new place and not knowing anyone is that I was truly up for anything. New small group? Sure! Blind date? Of course! Trying out for a play? Certainly! Go on a retreat? Sign me up!

During this period of life when I was new in town and totally unattached I began diving into all things church related. This was the first time ever that I was totally focused on God’s Word and how it applied to my little life. There were no other distractions.

And something happened. Something real. Something beautiful.

I discovered a man named Jesus.

He wasn’t a white guy in a robe or a sickly skinny fella like all the old paintings suggest.

Nope, not at all.

Quite the opposite really.

I discovered the power of His Word, the Bible. I learned that not only does He teach us in the Bible that He is good and kind and loving, but that He’s fair and just. He is mighty to save.

The Sunday School version of Jesus that I always had in my mind was being transformed through the power of the Bible.

And to be honest, this period of my life was really tough.

I was struggling with how this new Jesus that I’d come to know, could ever love and forgive me. I spent many nights awake in tears praying for God to restore my heart to be like His heart. To make me better, more like Him.

In a journal I had during this period I wrote the following around the Easter season…

“The tragic beauty of the cross is almost more than my heart can bear. I feel so broken. So alone. How could you have died for me? How? I really don’t feel like someone very special. Someone worth dying for? No way. Paul talks a lot about grace in Acts and I’m totally baffled by it Lord. I know that you’re God for goodness sake, but I am really struggling with guilt about all the yucky things I’ve done. I’ve hurt people Lord. I don’t want to live in guilt forever, but right now You just seem so big and I’m so small. I’m having a tough time understanding how You want me.”

This was written in March of 2003.

Since then, slowly but surely I have come to understand more about the character of Jesus. Not only His selfless love, but His power. How living under His authority gives me much more freedom than I could ever have living on my own.

I am no theologian, by any stretch of the imagination. There are much smarter and more well read people than me. But I can tell you what I know to be true. In fact, this truth rushes through me and pounds at my veins from the inside out. Like my heart is crying out for something bigger than this earth, something more. It’s like my soul is thirsty and only God can quench the thirst. Ya know? Have you ever felt that way? Like you just need something that this world can’t satisfy?

This truth that I know? My secret?

His name is Jesus. He died for you even though you (or I) am not worth dying for. But He thinks we were. He loves you. Even though you can’t imagine how.

And now? Today we celebrate that He not only died for you but He rose from the dead to live with you forever.

That truth? Well, it changes everything.

Tonight when I laid Bitzy down and told her one last story I said, “Now it’s time for sleep, because in the morning we get to celebrate that Jesus is alive!” And she said in her most innocent, precious 2 year old voice, “Okay Mama. Can He come and visit us now? I would like to meet him He sounds so precious.”

Oh baby, he visits us every day, every minute. And He is precious. The most precious thing that we’ll ever know.

I can’t wait until my babies are old enough to fully understand the meaning of Easter.

Until then, I pray that someday they will understand the purity and beauty of Jesus’ sacrifice.

And I pray that you will too.

“The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; He is risen, just as He said.” Matthew 28: 5-6.

He is Risen indeed.

See this phone? Ya know, the one you had back in 2002 when it was new and cool?  Well, that’s my phone now. I’m old school. It’s simple, straightforward and uncomplicated. Sure it takes me 34 minutes to send a text, but who’s counting?

Unfortunately, my old friend is dying a slow and painful death and we’re up for new contracts.

Zach’s poor old phone can only hold a charge for 15 minutes without dying. It’s bad times up in here.

I’m not gonna lie, things like “iPhone” and “Droid” have been spoken in this house by a certain husband (who shall not be named).

But to me it’s more like, “More money, blah, blah, blah, no coupons, blah, blah, blah, impossible to justify, blah, blah, blah. We should just get jitterbug phones.”

I think we’ve established that I’m, um, how you say? Frugal. And let’s face it, fancy cell phones aren’t cheap.

We do not have a home phone, nor do we really need one, so we must have cell phones.

So now I need all your powers of the world wide web to convince me why we should/shouldn’t get fancy phones. Right now we’re paying around $110 per month for both of us (and our ancient phones) on Verizon, that should be helpful to you as your convince me one way or the other.

Things I need to know:

1. Whose the best carrier?

2. Should we get a fancy phone?

3. Why/Why not?

4. Who in the world is Suri?

So whaddya think? Help a sista out!

I have rediscovered Pop Tarts. It was circa 1984 the last time I had one of these amazing rectangles of awesome and boy are they delicious. This could be a very, very, very bad thing.

Thanks to a certain Hulu Plus, I am all caught up on One Tree Hill. There was a time that I wondered how it would survive without Lucas and Peyton, but now I wonder no more. It is freaking fantastic.

Two words that I couldn’t spell if my life depended on it (this how I would spell them without the help of spell check)- Nessisary and Nessisarily. I just can’t seem to get it right!

I am loving NBC’s The Voice right now. Although, I could really do without Cee Lo Green’sequined jumpsuit and creepy white cat. It’s just plain weird.

Also? Is Christina sort of a cartoon character? I want to see her once without make-up. Survey says that she would look at least a zillion times better. Plus, when a gal wears that much lipstick doesn’t it get all over her kids face when she kisses him all day everyday?

Anyway, back to how I can’t spell. What about disentary? I realize that this is a word that you would only see when playing Oregon Trail back in 1991, but still, I would love to know how to actually spell it.

I cannot express to you the joy it brings me to find tiny little princess shoes scattered throughout the house. There is something so beautifully heartwarming about finding Bitzy’s pink ballerina slippers in my closet. I’m so grateful to have a little girl.

Then, tonight as I was folding clothes (my least favorite chore), I matched two itty bitty baby boy socks and told Zach, “I can’t believe that there is a person so tiny that lives in this house who can wear these wee little socks.”

Another word? Fanactical.

I want another pop tart.

I confess that these two exhaust me in a way that I never thought possible…but I confess moreso that I have never been more in love with these tiny little humans than I am right now.

Have a fun Friday ya’ll!

My Bitzy? She’s a talker. And she’s never met a stranger, well that is if said stranger is 3 feet or under. Adults? She’s more weary of, much to my pleasure. This exact scene has happened numerous times where she is begging a child to love her forever and it never fails to bring many smiles to my face. This current situation occurred at Chick-Fila’s playground with a girl around 3 yrs. old.

Bitzy: “HI! MY NAME IS BITZY. WHAT’S YOUR NAME. WANNA PWAY WIT ME?”

Girl: Stares at her. No flinches. No smile. Just stares, ignores her and goes up the steps to the slide.

Bitzy: Eagerly following her. “OKAY. YOU CAN BE MWARY AND I WIT BE JOSFPH AND MY BABY BOY BE JESUS. WE GO TO BEFWEHEM AND SHE MANAGER. OKAY? SOUND GOOD WITTLE FRIEND?”

Girl: Long gone down the slide, hasn’t heard a word.

Bitzy: Still talking to girl, “MWARY, SEE THE BWIGHT STAR? THE ANGEL SAYS ‘HI! DON’T BE SCARED, I NOT A MONSTER!”

Girl: Flies down the slide and is out the door.

Bitzy: “MAMA! WHERE MY FRIEND GO? SHE A NICE FRIEND. WHERE SHE GO, MAMA?”

Me: “I think she needs to finish her lunch with her Mama. Maybe you could go down the slide again.

Bitzy: “BUT I MISS MY BEST FRWEND! I NEED SHE. CAN I SHARE SHE NUGGIES, MAMA? PLLLLEEEASSSEEE MAMA? CAN I? CAN I? CAN I?

Me: “Well, those are her nuggies. Your nuggies are in the bag and when we get in the car you can finish them, OK?”

Bitzy: “BUT WHAT ABOUT MARY? SHE RIDING ON DA DONKEY AND NEEDS A MWANGER MAMA! BABY JESUS IS COMING OUT OF HER BELLY NOW! WHERE DA ANGEL? SHE CAN’T HAVE NUGGIES NOW! SHE NEEDS DA MWANGER?” (She begins banging on the glass yelling at the little girl through the glass). “GURL! GURL! YOU ARE MARY REMEMBER? I BE JOSPEH AND WE BE BEST FRIEND! REMEMBER, DON’T BE SCARED MWARY, GOD IS WIT YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER. THE MONSTERS WILL NEVER GET YOU. OKAY?”

Me: It should be noted that the girl is not even looking at her, and the Mama is looking at me like my baby girl has lost her ever loving mind. “Okay sweetie. I think the girl needs to finish her lunch. Wanna go down the slide one more time before we go home?”

Bitzy: “I DON’T UNDERSTAND MAMA. WHERE THE DONKEY? BUY WHY MAMA? WHY MARY GONE? SHE GO POO POO PEE PEE IN DA POTTY?”

Me: “Well, I think Mary is finishing her lunch. Do you wanna go down the slide one more time Joseph before we go home?”

Bitzy: “MINE NAME NOT JOSFPH! MINE NAME IS FANCY NANCY. REMEMBER MAMA? MWARY GO POO POO PEE IN DA POTTY RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Oh yes, of course. Okay fancy pants, let’s go home, OK? Baby boy needs a nap.”

Bitzy: “MINE NAME NOT FANCY PANTS, IT’S ‘BEHOLD A CHWILD IS BORN’. RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Um, sure. That’s your name today. Come on, Behold a Child is Born, let’s go.”

Bitzy: “OKAY MAMA. LET ME GO SAY BYE TO MY BEST FWRIND MWARY.”

Me: “OK, let’s go.”

As we’re walking out the door of the playplace she yells (loudly), “OKAY MWARY, HAVE A GOOD POOPY!”

Never a dull moment!

Remember how I’ve become a crazy coupon lady? If you missed that segment, tune in now to get a full report on how I am officially a coupon nazi….

Actually, no, not this time. This little story is brought to you by way of my red hot flaming cheeks.

So tonight I’m at The Wal-Mart (shocking, I know), and I have a very full cart full of FREEBIES and other wonderful discounted items. As I have taught you, my dear ones, getting the right cashier is a major part of the battle. (PS: I saved 78% tonight. Yee-Haw!).

Admittedly, I have a favorite.

He is around 35ish, super nice and very, very, very fast. I’ve had him several times and by far and away he is my favorite.

So on my weekly trips to The Wal-Mart we have had nice chats about his other job, politics, his daughter, ya know, normal stuff.

Let me also add that your grocery cart really says a lot about you. Right? My cart says that-

A.) I’m a crazy person who buys 20 tubes of toothpaste at a time.

B.) I really love apples.

C.) I make a lot of love to my husband.

WHOA.

Whhhhhaaattttt? This little blog is certainly not X-Rated by any stretch, but I gotta tell ya, as far as my cashier buddy knows, according to my cart we are doing it like bunnies.

Why, you ask?

Well that would be because I get at least 3 bottles of KY Jelly every time I check out.

Again, why exactly?

They are FREE, people. In fact, The Wal-Mart pays me $1.75 per bottle to take them out of the store. Soooo…let’s just say that my stockpile IS NOT lacking in the KY Jelly department.

All that to say, as my dear cashier buddy rang up my coupon for the KY the register beeped.

Oh the dreaded beep.

Then he gives me this really strange look and looks down while grinning from ear to ear.

I innocently say, “What’s the problem?”

And he says, “It just asked me if the KY Jelly was a food item.”

And then, I died.

Honestly, I don’t know if my cheeks have ever burned the way they did tonight.

After several, “Ha, ha, umm…yes…um…I mean no…I mean…oh my…oh dear..okay..ha, ha’s…I mean, it’s free, ya know? I mean, umm…ha, that’s funny…oh dear…I mean, okay, no, free is free and stuff…” he changed the subject to politics and put me out of my 7th grade embarrassed misery.

It was truly and utterly mortifying.

And to be fair, I think he was pretty embarrassed too.

I wonder if he remembers the other 30 tubes that I’ve bought over the past few months?

Now THAT would be even more embarrassing.

Oh well, free is free after all.

In the wee hours of the morning as I was rocking and nursing my sweet Brother Bear, his nightlight cast a glimmer on my beloved wedding ring. Oh how I love this ring…and oh how I love the man who gave it to me.

As I watched it glisten I recalled this story and I had to hold back my thunderous laughter as to not wake up my baby boy. Because friends, this real life story still makes me laugh.

Let’s revisit this old goody together…{originally written in February ’10}.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My Bitzy is a mere 3 months old so the real truths of my horrible pregnancy haven’t vanished into sweet romantic memories.

I know what you’re thinking. I think he is too. The cutest kid ever, right? Right.

Not only is he strikingly handsome, he’s quite agreeable as well.

It also really helps that he’s a Mama’s boy through and through. I don’t mind this one little bit.

But I gotta be honest with you.

Teething? It’s about to put me over the edge.

My sweet, laid back, angelic baby boy has been replaced by a non-napping, whiny, fussy alien child. I know, I know, he’s in pain. I should be more sensitive. And I was, I really was, about 3 teeth ago. Now that we’re working on tooth #5, I’m ready for a break from this teething nonsense.

You see Bitzy cut her bottom 2 teeth around 6 months and didn’t cut any more until she was 13 months old. Then she got 6 teeth in one month. But really it wasn’t so bad. She handled it like a champ. And then the incisors came…OUCH. And we’re still waiting on those dreaded 2 year molars, but the great news is that Bitzy’s teething journey is coming to a welcomed close while Brother’s has just begun.

Do they really need teeth anyway? Why must it be so painful?

Also? I’m not so great at the whole whiny baby thing. It makes me nuts, like literally a little crazy. Perhaps you are one of those parents who don’t mind crying/whining and can carry on normally while your baby melts down. Me? I can’t handle it. And it’s not even that I’m so caring and sensitive and all of that, it’s more that it drives me bananas. So needless to say, over the past month of Brother cutting these teeth and being subsequently miserable, this Mama is ready for my happy boy to return. I miss him.

But there have been some smiles through the painful cries of my wee one.

Take a look:

Even through the tears, the endless amounts of Tylenol and tired eyes, he remains the sweetest little thing ever. I’m smitten indeed.

Happy Monday everyone!

Me: “Guess what?! It’s a beautiful day today and we get to go outside and play!”

Bitzy: “NO FANKS. I HAVE JAMMIE DAY TODAY.”

Me: “But look! It’s really pretty outside and we can go to the park! Do you want to go to the bird park or walk to the park in your stroller?”

Bitzy: “NO FANKS MAMA. I STAY HOME. IT IS JAMMIE DAY TODAY.”

Me: “What if we look for a Huffalump?”

Bitzy: “NO FANK YOU MAMA. HUFFALUMP IS WIT WINNIE DA POOH. HE’S TIRED AND READY FOR A NAP. HE NOT WANT TO PLAY.”

Me: “Oh, okay. What if we go to the bird park and look for duckies and birdies? Maybe we could even go down the big slide!”

Bitzy: (taps her chin), “HMMMM, OH OKAY. WIT YOU AND BROTHER BEAR?”

Me: “Yes, only me and Brother bear.”

Bitzy: “WHAT ‘BOUT DADDY-O?”

Me: (the most dreaded part of the morning when I break it to her that daddy is at work) “Well, unfortunately Daddyo had to work today. I’m so sorry, it’s so sad.”

Bitzy: (Lips quivering, head in hands) “NO! I WANT DADDY-O TO GO TO BIRD PARK WIT ME AND YOU AND BROTHER BEAR. IT’S NOT FAIR!” (as she crosses her arms. She learned this trick from a friend of hers who is 4 years old. Lovely isn’t?).

Me: “The fair isn’t coming here for a few months. They’ll be cows, bach-bach chickens, piggies, horses and lots of other animals. Are you excited for the fair?”

Bitzy: (confused), “UM, SURE. CAN WE GO TODAY? PWESE MAMA, CAN I? CAN I? CAN I?”

Me: “I’m sorry baby, the fair isn’t for a few months. Maybe we could go to the bird park instead?”

Bitzy: (taps her chin), “UMM, OKAY. CAN LILLY BELLE COME?” (one of our puppies).

Me: “I’m sorry honey, she can’t. Maybe next time when Daddy comes with us she can.”

Bitzy: “OH, OKAY. MAYBE WE SEE A SQUIR? (getting the spelling right on how she says squirrel is tough. Just imagine the cutest pronunciation possible).

Me: “Oh yes! And maybe even a goose!”

Bitzy: “NO FANKS MAMA. GOOSES ARE SCARY. THEY SAY “HONK, HONK, HONKEDY HONK!” (runs away laughing hysterically).

Me: “No, geese are very nice. Let’s get dressed and we’ll go try to find one.”

Bitzy: “UM, NO FANKS. IT’S JAMMIE DAY REMEMBER?”

Me: “Are you sure? It’s so nice outside! We can run and jump and play like Hannah” (in one of her books).

Bitzy: “OOOHHHH LIKE HANNAH? (taps chin) INTERESTING. OKAY LET’S DO IT DUDE!”

After finally convincing her to take her jammies off the above outfit is what she insisted on wearing…which clearly was much too cold for our “beautiful day” of 50 windy degrees.

Oh well, who needs the park? We stayed inside and had a “COWGUR DAY” instead.

She better go into politics someday. She’s quite the salesman.

Have I mentioned lately how much this child slays me? Ah, I just want to eat her up!

Have you ever read something that really struck a cord with you, whether good or bad, and weeks later it would randomly pop into your mind and force you to reconsider it once again?

This has happened to me many times, but this time, I feel like what is brewing in my heart must pour out. Like the words are bubbling up whether I want them to or not.

Because friends, what is brewing isn’t very popular. In fact, it’s convicting my heart to the core and I hope/fear that it will do the same to yours.

But ya know what? I started this blog to tell my little stories so that’s what I’m gonna do.

You see a few weeks ago, I read this blog by a stranger whom I will probably never meet. It made the rounds on Facebook and Twitter with mommies everywhere cheering and shouting “Hooray!”

It was a chant for mommies everywhere to join in, to admit that each day isn’t filled with sunshine, love and happiness. To admit that maybe, just maybe, motherhood is tough.

She mentions being in a store and older women encouraging her to “enjoy every minute because it goes by too fast.” (Which has happened to me many times as well). She admits the panic in living that way, suggesting that having a Carpe Diem approach to life is too frantic and too exhausting to execute everyday.

She reasons that parenthood is like climbing Mt. Everest, that you don’t truly appreciate the journey until you reach the summit. Only then can you look back and see all that you’ve accomplished.

And ya what? I get it. I really do.

I get why the Huffington Post picked it up and thousands of people read it and elbowed each other with a twinkle in their eye.

And to be honest, the reaction from so many people to the blog really bothers me more than the writing itself.

It seems everyone wants to feel justified in their frustrations with having children who are wild and crazy and don’t listen and who God forbid, act like children.

I know that I do. There are nights that I recount all the ways to Zach that Bitzy challenged me and how Brother refused to nap and how I am just so tired. I just want someone, anyone to feel sorry for me and my tiredness. But then, there are nights where I am practically dancing around the house with joy that I get to live this life and I am devastated that my babies had to go to sleep because I’ll miss them so.

It’s like the valley verses the summit. Every day can’t be the valley and every day can’t be the summit. I totally get that.

But this blog was almost a permission slip to settle for “good enough” and I have a real problem with that.

My intense reaction to this kind of thinking also stems from seeing mommies out with their littles at the indoor playgrounds and parks. I am continuously baffled at how parents ignore their children in public. The first time I experienced this was when Bitzy was around 12 months old. She was newly toddling along and we went to a local park where there are two playgrounds. One is for small children (1 and 2 year olds) and one is for older kids. As Bitzy was walking on the tiny bridge of the jungle gym I followed her and helped her up the steps, down the slide, etc. I mean, the child was barely a year old for goodness sake, she couldn’t do it by herself. As I was helping her up the steps there was a little boy. He was around 18 months. Bigger than Bitzy, but still a tiny guy. He bravely climbed up the steps and flashed me a smile. I innocently said, “Good job buddy!” as I helped Bitzy go across the bridge. As I scanned the area for his caregiver I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t concern me too much because I was certain they were watching. After 15 minutes of playing and helping him maneuver the playground, his mommy finally appeared with her phone in hand texting. He ran up to her and hugged her and she non-chanlantly patted his back and then resumed texting. She didn’t even look at him, or me for that matter. I hadn’t seen her the entire time we were there, she just appeared out of thin air.

This was my first interaction with mommies who act like their children are a burden.

And truth be told, this situation is rare. Mostly, it’s much more subtle. Like a mommy looking at Facebook instead of playing with her kid at the playground. Or who barely looks up when her child yells, “Mommy watch this!” Or in this case, a mommy who settles in the knowledge that when the summit comes someday far away from today, then she will enjoy. Then, she will relish in her children, rather than enjoying the climb- today.

I always wonder how I would behave, parent, love, speak and spend my time if this were my last day on earth, because well, it could be. You just never know, ya know?

I don’t want to settle friends. I want the BEST. The very, very, very best. I want to lay down on my pillow every night knowing that I loved hard and spoke encouragement into the hearts of those around me. And on days I fail, I want to regret it and ask forgiveness rather than sighing and saying, “Oh well, it was good enough.”

I’m better than that, and so are you.

I don’t just want a few fleeting moments of amazingness throughout the day, I want a full day of amazingness. I want to cultivate a home where there is so much love and fun and encouragement and JOY that is springs forth in our speech and our dances and our hearts.

And when older women stop me and tell me to enjoy my babies I want to sincerely say, “I do and I will, every single minute of the day, even on the hard days.”

Because I’ll say it again, “How you spend your days is how you spend your life.” I don’t want to spend MY life complaining about the hardness, I want to relish the miracle of this life, even if I have to say it with gritted teeth as a manta over and over again to convince myself that it’s true on the hard days. I want to appreciate the opportunity to love without limits and to enjoy the moments.

But the reality is that this kind of intentional living with joy is tough stuff. It’s much easier to lazily skate throughout the day begging for bedtime. I know that, I’ve been there.

That’s why I’m so challenged/convicted/invigorated by this thought that although life/parenthood/friendship/whatever is a climb to the summit of a mountain, the climb is where we learn to take one step at a time and enjoy ourselves. We have to consciously take one step at a time and choose joy. It’s not easy, never is, but our attitudes determine the joy of the climb.

I want to love my time up the mountain, don’t you?

Growing up I always had bright blonde hair. It wasn’t platinum by any stretch, but it was a pretty shade of blonde. The older I got, the darker it got. It went from bright blonde to more of a honey blonde and then to a carmel blonde and finally to a dirty, dirty blonde.

After two babies and breastfeeding hormones pumping away (ha, get it? I crack myself up), now it’s dark blonde. Apparently my hormones don’t like pretty blonde hair. They like mousey blonde/brown hair.

I’m told that this is normal, is it? Is this yet another way that I’m a total weirdo?  Has this happened to anyone else?

Before Brother was born and I worked part-time I would visit my trusty and talented hairdresser for all of my coloring needs. But now, our budget simply doesn’t allow it. Zach has begged me to go, to bite the bullet and pay the money, but I just can’t. Once you become insane about {not} spending money, dropping $100 on hair just doesn’t make sense to me like it once did.

At first, I was in total deniel that I even needed color. I figured that I would “get used” to having darker hair. In fact, I went nearly 6 months without any coloring help at all.

It was a sad, sad time.

Then, it occured to me that maybe, just maybe I could do it myself. All I had to do was follow the instructions on the box, right? I mean, how hard could it be? So, I bought a highlighting kit. When I got it home and read the directions I saw the cute little cap. It was then and there that it became clear that in no universe could I hightlight my own hair. Patience is NOT my bag, it’s just not. And, let’s face it, my darling husband isn’t exactly hairdresser material.

So I gave up for a few days and declared that having pretty hair was a thing of the past.

But then, I thought of my friend Candyce. Candyce is one of those people that knows something about everything. So, I emailed her and gave her the scoop.

To my delight, she knew exactly what to do! She gave me detailed instructions on what to get for an all over color. Forget the highlighting kit! Putting a bunch of chemicals all over my head like shampoo is much more my speed.

Like a good little student I followed her instructions to the letter. After my babies were in bed I went to get this sacred box of beauty. When I got home I did exactly what the kit said to do.

And, wait for it…

It wasn’t terrible.

It wasn’t great, but definitely not terrible.

I tried to convince myself that it was totally awesome to have semi strawberry blonde roots while the rest of my hair was kind of a mix between brown and blonde splotches. Ever positive, I figured that it could be worse.

After a week or so, I went back to the store and got another kind. A lighter shade this time. At first I was timid to go too blonde because I felt like my hair was practically black.

Dramatic much?

And then, WAMMMOOOOO! It was great. In fact, it was kind of awesome.

So awesome that I’ve been using a box to color my hair for months now. The last time I got a haircut the hairdresser actually commented on how great my color looked. Imagine her surprise when I told her that it was from a box! Ha!

But like every little story there is sometimes controversy.

Cue: Last Night.

On my weekly trip to The Wal-mart, I casually looked for some color. I’m not true to a brand or even a certain color, I like to keep my options open in the world of hair coloring.

I had a price match and coupon for Loreal Healthy Look so I grabbed a box. When I got it I realized that it was on clearance for $5.00. Double score.

*Note to self: When buying hair color, never, ever, never, ever, never, ever buy it if it’s on clearance. Got it?

When I got home I innocently put on my chemical shampoo (that’s my pet name for my hair color. Isn’t it fitting?), waited my 10 minutes and washed it out.

As I got out of the shower I noticed that it looked a little dark, but no worries, I figured that when it dried it would be lighter and brighter.

Um, no.

It was brown.

That’s right.

Today, I was a brunette.

I would like to think that I looked like my bestie Sandy, but I fear that I did not.

For one thing, there are no tropicial flowers up in here and secondly, the sun hasn’t shined in months it seems. Well, and the obvious, that Sandy is a supermodel, and I am sadly, not.

Honestly today I really didn’t even think about it much. Something about chasing babies really takes my vanity away, in fact, I barely noticed it. But when Bitzy and Brother went to sleep I remembered.

Oh, did I remember.

I said to Zach, “So did you notice that I’m a brunette now?”

Zach: “Um, yes. It looks, um, great.”

Me: “Oh, come on! It looks nasty. Just admit it.”

Zach: “It’s not brown, it’s just darker. You’re so dramatic.”

Me: “I’m so not dramatic! Ah! It may not be brown, but it’s BY FAR the darkest it’s ever been.”

Zach: “I’ll give you that. But you look beautiful no matter what.”

Me: “Now that’s convincing. I’m going to The Wal-mart, be back soon.”

This time around I didn’t even take a coupon. It’s true, I admit it. Granted I still had a price-match, but I was on a mission to lose the brown, I could not be bothered with a coupon.

I found the most expensive box they had. It was $7.97, which in the world of hair coloring is a lot. And it was gold. It looked very fancy. It was the one.

It does say it’s “Superior” and “Luminous” after all. Granted, I have absolutely no idea what luminous means, but it sounds delightful.

Then, I did the whole routine and WALLLLLAHHHHHAAAAA, I’m blonde again.

Hallelujah!

I’m not cut out to be a brunette friends.

Long live the boxed blondes!

Have you ever had any hair dye disasters? Care to share?

This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this little story. Just thought I’d share some eye candy.

Ha! You thought I was going to say that I just started running again didn’t you?

Now THAT would be very sad story.

Because friends, that means that I would have died.

I think I’m too old to run.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Anyway, my sweet little precious ones have given me a run for the money this week.

Between Brother teething and Bitzy struggling with being very off schedule since Christmas and trying to get back on schedule, it’s been a doozy of a week.

This Mama is very excited for Daddy to be home with us this weekend.

But then, in the midst of the exhaustion, as I nursed and rocked sweet Brother bear to sleep, as his eyes got heavier and heavier he unlatched, locked eyes with me and smiled the most beautiful smile. Almost as if to say, “I love you Mama, goodnight.”

What a gift.

And then, as I tucked Bitzy into her crib with her blankies after rocking and reading, she sleepily whispered, “Goodnight Kanga, I love you.” And I smiled and said, “Goodnight Sweet Roo. I love you.”

And that my friends, is what it’s all about.

Have a great weekend friends!

The culprit

My very first post about poop was many moons ago. Read it here.

It’s sweet that I thought I was a Poopologist then. Ha, aha, ahahahahaha. Since then, I have earned several doctorates in the subject. In fact, almost every single day I wake up with a nice stew of pee and poop all over me.

Nice, eh?

You see, my sweet Brother bear has gone from being the best little sleeper ever, to, well, NOT the best little sleeper ever. Sure, he’s no Bitzy. He doesn’t hate sleep with the sincere hatred that she did as a baby, but still, I feel like we’re on a slippery slope.

{more to come on that later}.

All that said, he normally wakes up ready to eat, snuggle, cuddle around 6:00am. If I just feed him and lay him down in the crib he’ll scream his brains out, however, if I bring him into bed with me (Zach is long gone at this point) then he’ll eat and go back to sleep for another hour or two.

And clearly I don’t mind the snuggles, not one bit.

What I do mind? Him waking up every 3 hours during the night. You got that right. The child is 7 months old and he goes to bed at 7:00pm and wakes to eat every 3 hours until 6:00am.

What I mind more? The fact that his tiny little size 3 diapers simple cannot hold the massive amounts of excrement coming from his sweet little booty. I’ve tried double diapering, bigger sizes, changing him during the night…nothing works.

No matter what, ever single morning as I breathe him in and try to memorize the way his chest rises and falls, I also smell the sweet smell of baby poop as it oozes all over me.

Yummy, no?

Ah, motherhood.

Someday when I’m old and grey I will miss many things about my babies being tiny…but I have a feeling I will not miss being pooped on every.single.day.

There are many things about this picture that I love…and then some others that I find extremely disturbing.

As I always try to find the silver lining, let’s start with the positive. In fact, my friend Bethany has taught me the rule of PNP (Positive, Negative, Positive). So here we go:

Positive: Bitzy is having a blast. She’s a sucker for the playground. And the swing? Around 8 months old she began her love affair with swinging. Then, as suddenly as it started she banned all swings everywhere. Just the sight of them started her saying, “No, no, no!” Just recently she has shyly ventured back in. We’re starting slowly but surely. Kids are so strange and funny about things…

Negative: Will you look at me? I look like a frumpy Mommy. I may as well have on mom jeans. If I ever needed some motivation for Weight Watchers this is it. Well, and maybe a makeover from What Not to Wear. And I look old? When did I get so old?

Positive:  The owl hat. The cuteness just makes me die and go to heaven. Whoever came up with the concept of the owl hat needs a Nobel Prize. It just slays me. In case you need more evidence, here’s a picture of Brother wearing his too.

My Mama, AKA: Gammy got the sweet owl hats for my babies for Christmas. If you’d like to order one go here. (Linda has no idea that I’m doing this, so, SURPRISE Linda! I love the hats!!!).

I’m gonna get all Billy Mays on ya (may he rest in peace). Just imagine me talking in my most salesmaney, excited, youarenevergonnabelievethedealihaveforyou voice. Because friends of mine, the time is now.

It’s a brand spanking new year and it’s time to start saving some money.

While Zach and I are saving a ton of money these days with couponing, we are still not happy with our budget. We’re (actually, I am), spending way too much on random things that really should be accounted for. “But it’s on sale! It was almost free! We really need it! We might need it someday! I only paid $8 for a $60 item!!!” (that we have no use for- ahem).

One thing I’m learning with couponing is that even if it’s a great deal, it doesn’t necessarily mean we need it.

This whole couponing thing has really brought out my inner shopaholic.

So, starting today, we’re getting reacquainted with our old buddy, Dave Ramsey.

If you’re unfamiliar with him, he’s a famous radio host and a money managing genius.

He believes in a cash only system and discourages debt at all costs. His story is truly inspiring.

We have been on the program before and saved a ton of money while paying off quite a bit of debt. Now, our only debts are student loans and our house payment.

While I’m thrilled to have no credit card debt, having a house/student loan payment are still costing us a fortune. So, Mr. Dave Ramsey himself is gonna help us.

Financial freedom, here we come!

The bad news? Since I’m a stay at home mama now (praise Jesus), and Zach is a hard working sole provider, we just do not have a ton of  ”wiggle” room in our budget. That is going to make achieving financial freedom all the more challenging.

But guess what? I know that we can do it! And I know that you can too!

Here are some ways that we are cutting back and easily reliving some tension off of our tight budget.

Couponing- I recommend price matching coupled with couponing to get the maximum effect. I have written 3 previous blogs about price matching and couponing. Read them Here, Here and Here.

Shop At Home- This is what I call a “click through” site. Let’s say that you are going to buy something on Target.com. Rather than going straight there you go to  Shopathome.com first. When you get there you type in “target” and it will give you a list of coupons/deals. Then you click on the target tab and it will activate a percentage off of your online order on Target. That’s right!  Just because you clicked through their site first, you save a percentage off your order. Right now, Target is offered 6% back. So basically, you are “earning” 6% back on your online order to Target just for going to Shopathome first. Amazing. I just got a check for $45 for basically doing nothing but clicking through. It’s like free money!

Swagbucks- Swagbucks is search engine basically. So rather than doing a google search you search through Swagbucks. When you do you “earn” swagbucks just for searching. So just for doing your normal everyday Internet searches you get paid! I’ve gotten several Amazon gift cards this way. Easy peasy!

Ebates- Ebates is exactly like Shopathome. I normally do a search on both to see who has the higher percentage back. I just got a check for $11 from Ebates. Again, free money!

Rebates- I’m a big fan of rebates. Sure, they are work, but you get a free product and often make money in the process. Take tonight’s haul below. See the box of Bissell Stomp and Go? It’s on the corner and it’s blue. It was $4.98 at The Wal-Mart. I used a $1 off coupon making it $3.98. I’ll fill out this form and get $4.98 back via a check in the next few weeks. It’s like delayed satisfaction. Last month I “made” $65 in rebate money. So not only do I get to try out a free product but I make money in the process.

In other news, here’s my haul from tonight. I want to show you beautiful people that it’s possible to coupon, save money and eat well. Check this out.

I know that this stuff isn’t organic…but it’s not Ramen Noodles either. This stuff to me, is normal, healthy(ish) food, mixed with some other amazing deals.

Here’s the list:

7 lbs. of Gala Apples

3lbs. Cuties

12 Weight Watcher Smart Ones

6 Boxes of Cheerios

4lbs. of Bananas

2 Green Peppers

4 Bottles of Suave Shampoo

1 Suave Deodorant

2 Reach Floss

2 Boxes of Visine

9lbs. of different varieties of Steak

2 500ml bottles of Listerine

2 Boxes of GE Lightbulbs

1 box of Bissell Stomp and Go (rebate form linked)

2 bottles of Purell Hand Sanitizer

7 cans of Chicken “Nuggie” Soup as Bitzy would say

6 packs of gum

2 Pictionary Card Games (For our gift closet)

1 Package of Dole Frozen Blueberries

6 Packages of Scotch Brite Antibacterial Wipes

The pre-tax retail for all of this was $189.76. Tonight after price matching and coupons it was $82.11. That’s a savings of 56.7%. I’m thrilled with this savings based on the produce and meat that I bought.

You can coupon and be healthy, it just takes some effort!!!

We can do this friends, I just know it!!!!

Here’s to saving money!

Love to all,

Disclaimer: If you click on the Shopathome link and you become a member I will receive a credit for $5. This, in no way, means that I’m telling you this information to receive compensation. Rather, I want you to earn more through this site as I have. It’s totally awesome and I want you to benefit from it too. Same goes for Swagbucks and Ebates. I get a referrel credit, but I totally believe it’s a quick and EASY way to earn money. I have not been paid a dime by Shopathome, Ebates or Swagbucks for this post. These words and opinions, are all my own.

Bitzy is a baker!!!!

Every single day I wonder why in the world God has blessed me so incredibly. I am selfish and prideful and rude and arrogant and many more horrible sinful flaws. I do not deserve these little angels.

They are so perfect, so innocent.

They rely on Zach and I for everything. In a way it’s incredibly comforting to know that I am able and willing to provide for their daily needs, but also their need for love, comfort and encouragement.  But in another sense it scares me to death. I am not qualified for this position! I didn’t take a test or study for this job. Somedays I feel so unprepared.

Brother all snuggled at the park!

This week as Zach has been on “staycation,” my job as a stay at home mommy has been exponentially easier. Right now we’re playing a man-to-man defense which is WAY easier than my usual zone defense Monday-Friday.

To tell you the truth I’m so nervous for Monday! Including the weekends he’s been off for 9 whole days!!!! Even though we didn’t go on a fancy vacation, it has been amazing.  We went to the park (even in the freezing cold), the zoo, the science center, and even had a few PJ days (my personal favorite).

An added bonus was that Brother decided this week that he hated taking naps. So, unfortunately we had a few days that he screamed his ever lovin’ brains out for an hour. If I were here without Zach I cannot promise that I would have let him cry…but with Zach I was strong, and yesterday our sweet baby boy slept for 3 hours straight for nap!!! Amazing.

So tomorrow to further increase my nervous nerves we’re heading back on the Weight Watcher train. It’s been a full month of debauchery, but it’s time to get back on the system. And, in case that wasn’t enough we’re going hard core on the Dave Ramsey Financial Freedom plan.

I’ll be writing more this week about all of these fun things:).

Hopefully I’ll still be in my right mind to write!!! Ha!

Have a happy Sunday!

If you have been following my little blog for awhile you know that every so often I get all sudsy and clean on my own personal soap box. It’s not often that I get my feathers ruffled, but for the past week or two, everyday there have been little comments, facebook posts, or conversations with people that have culminated in me becoming very frustrated.

Ya see, I’m gonna need to complain a little.

About what, you ask?

Well that would be about People Complaining.

Ah, complaining.

We call it many things, “getting something off our chest,” or ” being authentic”, or as we said in 1993, “Getting Real.”

To me, it’s called, COMPLAINING.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know that life is hard. Really hard. Disturbingly hard sometimes.

I know that each day isn’t easy and filled with bubbles and big bowls of Milk Duds (what I would do for a Milk Dud right now). I know that. And I know that sometimes offhanded comments are made about physical aches and pains or how the baby was up all night and you’re tired or about how the house is a wreck or about how your husband forgot your anniversary or how your baby boy refuses to take a nap and screams endlessly (oh wait, that would be MY child).

I get it.

I really do.

What I don’t get?

The constant, negative, need to complain.

I know that we all want to be heard…to be acknowledged. But is complaining really the best way?

I don’t know if I’m just attracted in some weird way to stories of heartache and tragedy, but I feel like I’m constantly hearing stories that sting my eyes with tears.  A story about parents losing their three precious children in a car accident. One about a baby boy being born with a congenial heart defect that lived only 5 short years before going home to the Lord. A story about a 5 month old baby inside his mommies tummy who died as his mommies kidneys and heart began failing due to the stress the pregnancy had on her body. And my least favorite (and the one that produced the most tears) a story about an innocent couple that were carjacked, kidnapped and subsequently tortured and murdered. No reason, nope none at all. Just the wrong place at the wrong time.

All this said, it makes my napping woes seem a bit less serious, no?

It’s this little thing I like to call perspective.

So many people say, “it can’t get worse” about simple things like disciplining their toddler or their car breaking down. And then, I hear stories, these horrible stories, and remember that oh yes, yes, it can.

In an instant, a heartbeat, everything, and I mean everything, could get worse. Like, way worse.

So friends, today, I encourage you to bite your tongue when you begin to complain. Remember that somewhere in this great big beautiful world someones daddy is dying, a child is starving, a terminal diagnosis has been made, someone’s heart is breaking and that in an instant your problems could become much, much worse.

So today, try to enjoy your life. Regardless of the hand you’ve been dealt. No matter how bad you think you’ve got it, remember, it could always be worse.

And if you’re feeling really, really up for a challenge stop focusing on all the awful stuff, and remember how amazingly blessed you are. Because, you are ya know, you really are.

What will you do today to celebrate how blessed you are?  Let’s chat about it!  Do tell!

In my mind, everything is a Hallmark moment.

So, obviously everything is set in candlelight. Apparently, in my mind it’s always dark outside, hence the candles.

Also? There are children laughing and tiny feet pit pattering all over the house. There are no naps in my mind and memories.

And there is always, and I mean always, pie. Any kind will do. Just pie. P-I-E.

While my life is beautiful and fabulous and I would not trade it for a zillion trillion bazillion bucks, it’s not always picture perfect. And sadly, there are hardly ever pies.

In fact, it’s more like a circus around here than anything. A wonderful and entertaining circus, but still yet, a circus.

There are tantrums and tears, messy meals and lots of screaming. Mainly the happy sort of screaming, but still, a scream is a scream. And when you multiply the happy screams with the sad screams with the hurt screams with the idon’tknowwhyiamsadijustam screams, that’s a whole lotta screaming.

I do it love though. Every single bit of it. It may not be perfect, but it’s perfect for me.