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. 

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 vaguely remember a time when I was fearless. I would ride my bike as fast as I could down the steepest of driveways as my handlebars were literally shaking. I would normally crash, end up with a bloody knee and climb the hill once more to do it all over again.

I drove fast, laid in the tanning bed (gasp), and felt incredibly invincible. 

I’m not sure if this is a product of youth, or my own special combo pack of ignorance and negligence. Whatever the case, I didn’t worry about anything. Well, except for boys. I do admit being a bit boy crazy back in the day. 

Anyway, I’m not sure what happened. Or when it happened really. The worry, I mean. When did I become a worrier?

But really, the term worry to me brings up thoughts of old women biting their nails and pacing around the house, so let’s call it anxiety instead shall we? When did I become so anxious?

I’m gonna blame pregnancy.

Growing a tiny human turned my carefree heart into an anxious one. The second I saw the word “pregnant” the panic began. And really, the “what ifs.”

Ah, the “what ifs.”

I am infamous for the “what ifs” and “you just never knows.”

For that, I will blame Google.

In fact, Zach has banned me from Google altogether.

Literally.

I am banned from looking up any kind of illness, disease, infection, horror story, accident, child sickness/death/syndrome. You name it, I am banned from it.

Know why? Because for some reason I am very impressionable. The words of the stories stick with me. And not in a good heartwarming way. In a panicky, unhealthy way.

Now that I’m a mama I realize that I’m not exempt from the troubles of this world. Anything could happen to me and mine at any time. And it may not make sense…and the kicker: I have absolutely no control over it.

I think more spiritual people than me probably find comfort in this. But honestly? It scares me to death.

At the same time, I hear some stories and think that they could never happen to me. Like the tragic story of a 12 month old baby who drowned in the bathtub last year after being left alone for 15 minutes while his mother was downstairs checking her Facebook.

To me, that’s simply neglect and it really doesn’t scare me because I would never do that.

However, the stories of stillbirth, childhood cancer, ALS, heart attacks, car accidents, and all the “what if” stories that are completely out of my control can put me into a panic if I let them.

So yesterday afternoon Bitzy, Brother and I were playing outside. I filled their little turtle pool with water and put the water table up and sat with them as they splashed and played. We were having a blast.

We had been out for awhile and I saw a spider gliding through the air as it was building a web. It was actually fairly interesting to see. Brother had pulled up on the water turtle and Bitzy was at the water table. They were about 3 ft. apart and I’m in the middle of the two. I pull Gracie over to me, kneel down and show her the spider. I had my back turned from Brother for about 5 seconds. Literally.

When I turned around, he had gone head first into the pool with his legs still up on the side and his arms down. I immediately pulled him out as he coughed and cried. As I wrapped him up I began sobbing and thinking of all the “what ifs.” Meanwhile Bitzy began hugging my leg and said, “It’s okay Mama, don’t cry. It was just an accident.”

And that’s the thing. Accidents happen. I get that. I just don’t want one to happen here. Ever.

I would love to end this little story with some kind of inspiration or silver lining, but friends, today terrified me in a big way.

Do all Mamas struggle with this? Is it just me? Do I just need to trust God more? Fix me people! I’m driving myself bonkers and really today did me no favors with the water incident.

Help!

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,

Introducing my sweet blogger friend, Keely. She not only is a fantastic writer, she is also a fellow mama to 2 beautiful girls. She has been so kind to write a guest blog for me…I hope you enjoy!!!!

I try so hard to be a good mother.

Or at least the kind of mother that the media depicts as being “good.”

And by Media, I mean Other Parenting Blogs.

But the deck is stacked these days. Not only does one have to feed, clothe, and generally keep one’s kiddos healthy (all the time, too, not just for like a day or a week!), but we’re also in charge of entertaining, teaching, having a good amount of [supervised] “down time,” and Creating Moments…in a spotless home. And you’d better believe that the super-clean abode needs to be kept that way without chemicals or any other substance you wouldn’t want directly up the nostril of anyone residing with you. A Good Mother- as everybody on the internet knows- uses only eco-friendly products to sanitize her sustainably built home, the one that was created with with [naturally replenishing] bamboo flooring and/or solar panels. She also fashions homemade air fresheners out of whittled lemon peels.

(I may have made up that last part. Or, I’ve just unwittingly created a new thing and am already failing to do it often enough.)

Chemical-free cleaning is the hardest part. (Mostly because I cannot afford that whole bamboo thing.) I’m a pretty good Mom on the other fronts; I love rolling around on the floor with my two daughters. I adore singing made-up songs in made-up French. And, for the most part, our major health maladies can be fixed with a pirate Band-Aid and a cool mist humidifier.  But the green living thing? For the uninitiated, let’s just say that kids can make some truly horrific things happen in, on, or around their bodies in impressively short amounts of time. And gentle spritzes of vinegar and lemon can only sanitize so much. (Although it does make an exceptional salad dressing.) So sometimes industrial-strength cleansers are the only way to ensure germ-freeitude, short of burning play clothes, kitchen surfaces, and maybe even the kitchen itself.

And there you go. Filthy children and thoughts of burning down the kitchen. Not a Good Mother.

When I try to be a greener cleaner in the bathroom, I end up using way too many of those compostable wipes. It then occurs to me that, since we generally don’t compost, I’ve just shoved the entirety of my supplies right into the regular trash can. Strike One for saving the Earth.

And then, after I realize that I’ve just had my hands directly in the toilet bowl (with or without biodegradable wipes), I generally use industrial- strength bleach and way too much boiling hot water to wash my hands. (Strike Two. And a half.)

I try not to beat myself up about it. After all, no mother (even a Good one) is perfect all the time. This thought comforts me for roughly ten minutes. That’s when I find my infant (ignoring her BPA-free and stimulating wooden rattles) with a hairy cat toy in her mouth. So I throw the whole shebang away with nary a thought of recycling. (The cat toy, that is. I keep the baby and the cat hair.) Strike…let’s just go ahead and call it Strike Nine, because it’s already been a long day.

I haven’t given up hope, however, that Nora and Susannah will grow up to be responsible and environmentally friendly citizens of the world.

After all, they have exceptional table manners, despite seeing their mother eat cereal over the sink with a spatula.

There’s hope.

Wanna connect with Keely? Check out her blog here! Be sure to “like” Lolly Gag Blog on Facebook too!

Have a great day friends!

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!

I love scary movies.

Always have.

When I was little, maybe around 8 or 9 I was watching hugely inappropriate scary movies in terror, unable to tear myself away. After the typical scary movies of the Freddie Cruger variety I happened upon Alfred Hichcock.

Oh Alfred, what a genius you were.

I find my love for Mr. Hitchcock quite strange as I cannot watch a black and white film now for more than 5 minutes. How did I have the attention span back then to watch hours of his films?

Strange indeed.

Anyway, my affair with Vampires started innocently enough with Bella and Edward (note I did not mention Jacob.Yuck!). I tore through each Twilight book with reckless abandon and have watched every movie and loved every second. Read more about my Twilight love here.

But then, ever innocently, my friend Megan who shares very similar TV taste as me, (kind of like my TV soul mate), encouraged me to begin The Vampires Diaries. I mean, 3 full, commercial-less seasons on Netflix? It’s a TV addicts dream come true. She described it as “One Tree Hill with Vampires.”

As an original One Tree Hill fanatic, that was enough to convince me.

So, now?

I’m addicted. Like at nap time I’m practically running around like a maniac to finish my “chores” so I can watch this show. It’s ridiculous really.

I am so on Stefans team. Damon? What a meanie. Edward and Stefan forever!

I’m mid-way through Season 2 and it just keeps getting better and better!

So here is my plea. If you are not watching The Vampire Diaries, you simply must start. It’s fantantic.

Allow me to be your TV soulmate. Trust me peeps.

Are you already watching? If so, are you on team Stefan or Damon?

And GO!

Today is Monday.

Normally Bitzy goes to her Lolly’s on Monday for a day-o-fun. They play with the chickens, puppies, paint, color, make messes and do all the things little girls should do with their grandmas. It’s beautiful to me that my Bitzy is loved by and loves her Lolly so.

This leaves me with Brother. It’s nice to have a day to focus on him and him alone. He is a wild man these days. Quickly crawling across the floor, attempting to pull up on just about anything. He’s full of energy, hyper even. All boy, already.

He takes 2 naps a day, a short 45min.-1 hour in the mornings and a longer 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon. This leaves me with a quiet house and long to-do list on Mondays.

It’s my big cleaning/laundry day.

I do my “big cleans” on Monday and Fridays with swifter sweeps throughout the week. With Brother crawling I’m, how you say? Crazy? Yes, that would be it, crazy, about keeping my floors clean.

This is a blessing and curse. I love having a clean house, but I don’t love cleaning it.

But really, that’s one of the things that annoy me about myself most.

I love being too skinny for my jeans, but hate working out.

I love praying God’s Word, but hate memorizing.

I love an organized closet, but I hate organizing.

Again, I love my house being clean, but I’m not so into cleaning it.

Get my point?

It’s the cause and effect of life.

Cutting through the routine of life to see the simple beauty in our everyday.

Seeing the piles of folded laundry and being thankful to have a family to do laundry for.

The agony of going through something excruciatingly painful to see the restoration and blessing at the end of the tunnel to only realize that it’s truly only the beginning.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t just want an attitude of gratitude but a culture of gratitude. Rather than sulking about cleaning the house I want to take that thought captive and thank God for a house to clean. When Brother wakes me up in the middle of the night rather than being frustrated I want to thank God for the blessing of a perfectly healthy child. When I sit at a blank screen willing myself to write funny things and nothing comes, I want to be the kind of person that thanks God for allowing me to experience patience and ask Him for the words. What would He have me write today?

Sadly, I am not this person. Not even close. I’m not sure if I ever will be. But I want to be, oh how I want to be. And honestly, I know that the only way to become this person is putting in the time and work. To practice gratitude constantly throughout the day. To truly be thankful for each step, every word, every breath.

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NIV)

This, my friends, is my prayer for me and you today.

Happy Monday!

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!

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.

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?

Brother: “Hey you, get outta my toy!”

Do you ever look at your life and think you’re dreaming? Do you look at the pictures of your spouse and/or your babies and think that there’s no way that they’re yours?

No? Just me?

As if I needed another confirmation that I am completely crazycakes.

Sometimes at night when all is quiet and the babies are nestled snug in their beds I look at the pictures on the walls and think, “Are those my babies? When did that happen? Could it be?”

You see, they are my dream come true. Really and truly, they are.

The messes and diapers and tantrums and nap strikes and books and hair bows and vomit, are part of that dream. Granted, some of those things aren’t exactly fun, but they are part of the job. And now, at this very moment, I’m living the dream.

Bitzy is currently choosing to jump in her crib shouting “Zoom, Zoom, Zoom” rather than taking a nap, while Brother is sleeping soundly in his crib snuggled with his lovey. As I watch them on the video monitor my heart swells with gratitude.

I have always dreamed of being a Mama, but now that it has come true, it’s almost more than my heart can bear. It’s too wonderful, too amazing. I am simply in awe of how magnificent they are.

When I sit back and really think about the intricacy involved in creating a human being, I am stunned into thankfulness. How God so masterfully knit these beautiful creatures together in my womb and so generously gifted them to Zach and me. We are not worthy of such amazing gifts. But by God’s grace He continues to help us love and care of these babies.

I am humbled by the gift of them, I really am.

Life is so precious, I want to soak them up and memorize them every single day.

Thank you Lord for the gift of my children, You are so good.

Brother Bear was asleep and missed our smushy face pic!

So yesterday was my birthday.

It was a perfect day full of Jesus, Zach and my babies. The perfect combo pack.

The funny thing is though, no matter how old I get, I always think I’m 22.

I don’t just pretend, I really think it.

When someone says, “How old are you?” I immediately think that I’m 22.

But not just me. Everyone I know is apparently 22 as well.

For example, not too long ago I was out to dinner with my lady friends and one of my dear darlings said that she went out on a date with a guy who was really nice but older than her. When I asked how old and she responded that he was 38.

38?

“You can’t go out with him! He’s 16 years older than you! He’s way too old for you!”

Then, all of my friends looked at me like I was a crazy person (more than usual).

“You know that I’m not 22 any more, right?”

“Oh my. You’re not? How old are you anyway?”

See? Everyone is 22 forever.

In my defense, 22 was a darn good year for me. I met my Zach, graduated from college, moved to Louisville, started my first job, met some of my best friends and lived on my own. It was quite eventful, but so wonderful.

Now that I’m, ahem, not 22, every year continues to be eventful…and wonderful.

In my old age I am beginning to become more thankful for birthdays, because well, the alternative is grim. But then I get greedy, panicky almost. Like I have to super pumped to get older because I’m so frantic about something happening to me and leaving my babies and Zach.

So, with gratitude I celebrate another birthday full of wrinkles, sags and headaches!!!!

Being 22 isn’t so bad after all! Keep ‘em coming!

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!!!).

Me: “Hey Bitzy Boo, would you like some water baby?”

Bitzy: “NO THANK YOU MAMA, JUST A POLAR BEAR.”

Me: “Hmmm…OK. Well, I don’t have a polar bear, but I do have some water. Would you like some?”

Bitzy: “LET ME SEE,” as she taps her chin, “NO WATER, JUST A POLAR BEAR.”

Me: “Okay, I just need to run into the dining room for a minute and pick up our new polar bear, one second.” (I walk into the dining and count 1-2-3). “OK, here’s your very own polar bear named Polly! Hooray for Polly the Polar Bear!” as I hand her a pretend polar bear.

Bitzy: “NO MAMA, A REAL POLAR BEAR, NOT A TEND ONE. PLEASE MAMA. CAN I, CAN, CAN I?”

Me: “Here’s the problem. Polar bears live in the North Pole with Santa. It would be really hard for our family to have a pet polar bear. But I do have a pretend one named Polly. Wanna play with her?”

Bitzy: “NO THANK YOU.” Then she sits in the floor and puts her face in her hands. “I’M SO, SO, SO SAD. I MISS MY BABY POLAR BEAR.”

Me: “I know baby, it’s hard. I wish we could have a pet polar bear too. Maybe we should move to the North Pole with Santa.”

Bitzy: She totally brightens up and says, “GREAT IDEA MAMA. ME, YOU, SANTA, LEONARD, DADDY AND BROTHER WILL LIVE AT POLLY POLAR BEARS HOUSE WITH HER GRANDMA. IT WILL BE AWESOME. I SO CITED!”

Me. “Of course it will be. I’m so glad we worked that out. Now, how about some water?”

Bitzy: “SURE MAMA. SOUNDS GREAT, I VERY THIRSTY.”

Whew.

Classic Bitzy.

Me: “Hey! I have an idea. Let’s go downstairs and eat bacon and read books!”

Bitzy: “UMMM…MAMA, DO ME A FAVOR AND MAKE ME SOME OF PIGLETS HAYCORN COOKIES FIRST. AND MILK AND BOOKS. OKAY MAMA? RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Sure thing! I just made you some, here they are.” (we are playing pretend you see. In fact, we’re playing pretend about 95% of the time).

Bitzy: OH MAMA. THEY ARE DELCIOUS MOMMY DARLING. YOU GOOD BAKER COCO. MAMA IS YOU NAME COCO MOMMY?”

Runs in the other room laughing.

Me: “Yes! My name is CoCo for sure. Mommy CoCo needs you to come downstairs and eat bacon. I know that baby CoCo is hungry, right?”

Bitzy: “MINE NAME IS NOT COCO. IT’S PRINCESS DARLING DARLING. RIGHT MAMA?”

Me: “Okay Princess Darling Darling, would you like to eat some royal bacon?”

Bear in mind that I am pushing bacon harder than the meth addict at the Wal-Mart because…

A. Bacon is awesome.

B. Brother is fussy and ready for a nap. In order to feed him and give him said nap, I need for a certain 2 year old to be still for about 6 minutes downstairs while I get Brother to sleep upstairs.

C. She is starving even though she doesn’t know it. A sure fire way of knowing that she’s hungry is her incessant begging for milk. She’s ALWAYS been a milk addict, but when she’s hungry it goes from “I WANT MILK!” to “I WANT MILK MAMA, MILK, MILK, MILKY, MILK!” And if she’s really starving it goes, “I WANT BRUDDERS MILKY MILK. I WANT HIS CAKE.” You see, she insists that “Brudders milk” tastes like cake. Granted, she has barely eaten cake in her short life, but really? My milk tastes like cake? Maybe I should market my magic cake milk.

And I digress. Back to the story.

Me: “Listen baby, we really need to go downstairs because Brother is fussy and Mama needs to put him down for a nap.”

Bitzy: “NO WAY MAMA. MY BABY IS NO SLEEPY. HE IS HAPPY BOY! HE MY BABY BOY, BABY BOY, BABY BOY. BRUDDER AND SISSY ARE BEST BUDDIES. MAMA! I WANT MILK. MILKY MILKY. PWEASE MOMMY, I NEED MILKY. BRUDDERS MILK. NOW MOMMY PWEASE!”

Me: “Baby, let’s have a happy day, not a sad day, OK? Don’t make me put you in time out. I’m going to ask you one more time to go downstairs OK. Do you understand?”

Bitzy: “SURE MAMA. BABY COCO DARLING DARLING LOVES BACON AND BABY SOOOOOO MUCH. AND CINDERELLA TOO. WES BEST BUDDIES.”

Me: “Great! Let’s go Darling Darling.”

Bitzy: “NO NO NO NO NO NO! MINE NAME IS SISTER BEAR, NOT DARLING DARLING. YOU SILLY MAMA.”

Clearly, my method isn’t working. I try a different approach.

Me: “Oh Bitzy! I think that Santa may have left a very special prize for you last night. Let’s go downstairs and get it!’

Bitzy: “OH SANTA! I LOVE HIM. HE IS SOOOOO NICE! HE GOT RUDOLOP AND ELF TOO. HE IS SO SWEET MAMA! OKAY LET’S GO MAMA!”

Me: “Great idea! Let’s go!”

Meanwhile I scan the room for a toy, book, crayon, ANYTHING that she hasn’t played with for awhile and may have forgotten about, but I got nothing.

So we get downstairs (finally) and she says, “OKAY! WHAT MY PRIZE MAMA?”

Me: “Guess what?! Santa brought you a baby brother! Sweet Santa! He brought you the best Christmas prize ever!”

Bitzy: “YOU SNEAKY MAMA. YOU TRICKED ME AGAIN! HOW ‘BOUT BACON TIME?!”

Clearly, this ain’t our first rodeo.

Well friends, in the quest to spend little and save as much as possible, all while building a stockpile, I am learning a lot. I am no where near an expert (quite the contrary), but I am learning more and more every week. What took me 3 hours 2 months ago, now takes me 1. To me, that’s progress.

A few weeks ago I wrote a few other blogs about saving money. Check those out too Save {part 1} and Save {part 2}…some of this will be repetitive, but hopefully it will all be helpful.

*No pictures in this post, I’m rushing to finish before naptime is over!

So many of you have asked about my process of couponing, what I buy, how I get the coupons, etc. So this week as I went through the steps of a weekly grocery list I wrote down what I did in order to best explain what I do and how I do it.

Let me reiterate again, I am NOT an expert. This is just my mangled, disorganized way of saving a freaking ton of money.

1. I have the Sunday paper delivered to my house. I get out the coupon inserts and clip, clip, clip. I do NOT clip everything. There are some things I do not want even if they’re free. Ha! Also, my sweet Mama sends me two sets of coupons each week from her papers in North Carolina. And, I also frequent Coupons.com to get online coupons.

2. Then, I throw away the entire paper except for the sales ads. Because, well, I’m more of a People.com person than a newspaper gal. Does that make me a bad person? Probably.

*Side Note* I exclusively shop at Wal-Mart because of the price matching + coupon policy. Remember this. If you play “the drugstore game” and get all the Extra Care Bucks/Register Rewards and such then good for you! I do not have the time nor the patience to play. So…I only go to one store, once a week. Also, note that my particular Wal-Mart price matches the final price of the drugstore (I understand that some stores do not do this). For example, if a razor is normally $9.97 at Wal-Mart and it’s on sale at CVS for $7.99 and when purchased you earn $2.00 in Extra Care Bucks, that means at CVS and at Wal-Mart your final price is $5.99. With a $5.00 off coupon (which I had), my final cost on a $10 razor was $.99. Not bad at all. Does that make sense?

Also, note that our Kroger here only doubles coupons up to $.50. If they doubled up to $1, I would most likely go to Kroger too for their deals. They DO NOT price match though, remember that. Typically, I save anywhere from $100-$150 per week on price matching alone, then other $50-$100 with coupons. So, the major savings is with the price matching.

3. Then, I scan all the sales papers. In my region the main stores that have competitive prices are CVS, Walgreens, Rite Aid, Mejier and Kroger.  Almost always, Wal-Mart has the cheapest price for regularly priced items in health/beauty and food (let’s face it, I’m not exactly shopping for electronics). So in the rare event that I cannot find something on sale or a coupon, Wal-Mart is the cheapest option. Now, as I’m scanning the sales papers I’m mostly interested in the killer deals. I am personally trying to not only buy groceries for weekly meals, but for our growing stockpile as well. So, I’ve got my eyes peeled for the cheapest food/products I can find. I only stockpile what I can get for free or very close to free (which is shockingly quite a bit).

As I said in an earlier post, I do not meal plan and then go shopping. I cook our meals based on the weekly deals and/or my stockpile.

4. That said, as I’m scanning I think of what we really need. Are there any essentials that have to be purchased this week? For us, it was dog food, so sale or no sale, coupon or no coupon, our doggies had to have food.

5. The more that I shop and save the more I crave spending as little as possible. So, one item that I would have liked to get, not an essential, but a want, would be Kraft Singles. I am a sucker for cheese and crackers and my Bitzy is too. So this week they’re on sale for $2.50 at Kroger. That’s quite a bit less than Wal-Marts $2.98 price. However, about a month ago I got them for $1 apiece in a 10 for 10 mega event that Kroger had. So, clearly I cannot pay more than $1 apiece. Again, you have to figure out what needs you have verses what you want. This will really help you plan your attack. I want the Kraft singles, however I’m not willing to pay $2.50 for them. They can wait. There isn’t a right or wrong way, you just have to figure out YOUR way.

6. As I scan the ads I write down all the items that are great deals, then I write down the sales price and what store the deal is from.

7. After my list is complete, I go through my coupons to match them with the sales items. If there are items that I do not have a coupon for (there always are) I go online and find one. Almost always I can find at least one. If you go to the company’s website they will often have a coupon tab or you can try Facebook. If you “like” their page a lot of companies will give you a coupon. Also, many of the awesome coupon blogs out there have a “Coupon Database” (iheartthemart, southernsavers, krazycouponlady) and you can type in what coupon you need and they’ll tell you if there is one. It’s pretty amazing.

*Side note* With online coupons you can only print 2 coupons per computer, FYI.

8. Now that you have your list and coupons in order make a final list. Organize by section in the store (Healthy/Beauty, Food, etc). Then, go back and match each coupon with your item to make sure that you’re all set. Make a column on your list giving you YOUR final price. This way, at checkout, you’ll know if a coupon didn’t go through based on the final number.

9. If you find a free and/or great deal on something that you will use and you want to stockpile it, consider buying extra coupons on Ebay or a coupon clipping service. I was able to get 50 boxes of Finish dishwashing tablets for $8.50 last week thanks to the $2.00 I spent on Ebay to get more Finish coupons. Now I have a 3 year supply of Finish tablets. They are normally $3.98 and I paid $.17 per box.

*Side note* Before we moved to this house I would never have been able to stockpile due to lack of storage. Now I have plenty of room to build a good stockpile, if you don’t, it’s fine, only buy what you need and enjoy the savings! If you do have the space consider building a stockpile for things that you regularly use, like say, dishwashing tablets (which I use every single day).

10. After I’ve gone through my list and matched with coupons, then I go back through my coupon binder to see if there are any coupons that are expiring soon that I would like to use. If so, pull those coupons and go back through the ads to see if those items are on sale. If so, add them to your list!

*Side Note* While there are generally not coupons for produce and meat you can get great deals on meat that is discounted because it’s expiring soon (I buy and stick in the freezer). Also, you can price match the meat prices per pound. A few weeks ago, a store in town (I can’t remember which one) had Butterball ground turkey on sale for $.99 per pound. Wal-Marts price was $3.98 per pound. When I went to get the turkey there was a coupon attached to the package for $1 off. Making it FREE. So I got 10 pounds of Ground Turkey for FREE. Then, last week KMart had Butterball Turkey Bacon on sale for $1.00 apiece (normally $2.98 at Wal-Mart), I had several $.55 off coupons making them $.45 each. Also, I have found that Mejier and Aldi almost always has the best prices on produce. A few weeks ago Aldi advertised their whole pineapples for $.99 and Wal-Marts price was $4.99 apiece (who in their right mind pays $5 for a pineapple?). So, the deals are out there, you just have to look for them!

11. Once you get to the store, DO NOT STRAY FROM YOUR LIST. If you see something you want, remember it and look for the coupon later.

12. Lastly, hand your coupons to the cashier individually. I know this is somewhat psychotic but I have found that it proves to be worth it. A few weeks ago a $3 coupon didn’t scan and I didn’t realize it ’til later, after I had already lost the receipt:(. So, from then on I vowed to hand each coupon to the cashier to make sure that it scans.

Now, to give you some REAL examples, here are some samples items from my shopping trip last night.

20 Smart Ones- Normally $2.98: Kroger had them on sale for $2.00 apiece with a “if you by 10 you get $4 off” deal. So, if you buy 20, you get $8 off. Right? So, that’s a total of $32. Then, I found 2 $4 off if you buy 10. So, now I have price matched 20 Smart Ones for $32, with $8 in coupons, making my total $24. Then, when I got to the store there was coupons on the product for $3 off when you buy 10 (so I was able to use 2 of them). So, I ended up getting 20 Smart Ones for $18. My price without coupons or price matching would have been $59.60.

2 Scrubbing Bubbles One Step Cleaner Refill- Normally $3.98: CVS had them on sale this week for $2.50 apiece. I had a Buy One Get One Free coupon make them $1.25 apiece.

2 Visine Dry Eye Drops- Normally $3.45 apiece: Walmart.com has a Visine coupon for $3 off (I printed off 2). I paid $.45 each.

5 pounds of Honeycrisp Apples- Normally $1.97 per pound: Mejier had them on sale this week for $.99 per pound. So, I saved 50% on apples.

6 Boxes of Uncle Bens Whole Wheat Rice- Normally $2.88 apiece: On sale this week for $.99 (I forget where), I had 3 buy 2 save $1 coupon making my final price: $.49 per box.

Is this helpful? Do you see that you can eat well and still save money?

I truly hope that you have found this to be helpful. I am having a blast saving money and I sure hope that you will give it a shot…it’s so worth it.

Love to all,

I feel bad for celebrities.

I really do.

Can you imagine the nightmare of never leaving your house without cameras surrounding you?

How about seeing your picture in a tabloid with no make-up and your jammies?

Or explaining to your child why there’s a dude following you around with a camera?

Nightmare.

Granted, they are getting paid several million dollars for being in silly movies, so it’s the price they have to pay, right?

While I do feel sorry for them, I still enjoy said photos.

It’s a guilty pleasure, what can I say?

Since I frequent people.com, I simply must share some updates with you about my celeb friends (since hopefully you, my dear readers, are much more classy than I, and do not read this trash).

First things first:

Oh Jessica, unless you are carrying around a bowling ball or a tumor in your belly, you are clearly preggers. Just say so. You had a TV show about your life for goodness sake. Clearly, you aren’t shy. How far along are you anyway? I’m going with 6 months.

Secondly, I must admit that I do not enjoy Scarlett Johannson. I’m sure that in real life she’s lovely, but I have never enjoyed her acting (I blame all the Woody Allen films). In fact, in every movie she annoys me to death. This picture only explains further why she drives me bananas.

Third (or is it thirdly?),

Jennifer Aniston is apparently “packing on the pounds” according to my friends at People. Really? Really? If she is, in fact, packing on the pounds, what does that mean for the rest of us? Geez.

Fourth (again, is it fourthly? Can someone please let me know about this all important question?),

Who is this person? She’s crowding up my tabloids and I have no clue who she is. They need to free up space for my friend Sandy, just in case she wants to show us her sweet little Louie.

Again, less of you, whoever you are…

And more of you…my  BFF Sandy.

Am I the only hopeless lady on the interwebs who loves ‘em some celebrities?

Please say no.

For as long as I can remember I have been a deal hunter. I am physically incapable of paying shipping for anything and heaven forbid I pay full retail for a piece of clothing. I just can’t do it. I am forever using coupon codes, getting cash back, and searching online for deals.

While I have mastered the art of online shopping, I hadn’t delved into the game of couponing…until along came a little show I like to call, Crazy Couponers. Sure, it’s really called, “Extreme Couponers,” but let’s face it, they’re all nutjobs.

While they are crazycakes to be sure, they are smart and savvy and I wanna be just like them.

So, I began slowly clipping coupons here and there, nothing serious. I wasn’t fully committed.

Then, along came the notebook.

You know the one. Like the one you had for senior English class.

That one.

When I opened up that notebook and gazed into the beautiful zippers and rings, I was smitten.

Then, I bought a new pair of scissors.

And then, I happened upon a document that would forever change my life forever.

The Wal-Mart coupon policy.

As we know, I am small town girl who now who frequents “The Wal-Mart.” So, this policy was very interesting to the likes of me.

The policy states that they will take competitors ads in addition to coupons.

What does this mean, you ask?

It means that if Walgreens has eyeshadow on sale for $2.99 and at Wal-Mart it’s $3.99, you simply tell your cashier at Wal-Mart that Walgreens beat their price and you get it for $2.99.

Then, if you couple that $2.99 with a coupon for $1.00 off, guess what? You’ll pay $1.99 rather than $3.99.

Easy peasy.

I’m still just a novice. I’ve only been at this for a few weeks and I am no where, and I mean NO WHERE near an expert, but I am thrilled to report that tonight I bought $129.88 worth of groceries and only paid $49.11!!!!

The best part? It’s stuff we actually use!!!

Here’s the haul-

Several of these items were free or more than half off!!!

Things like Gala Apples, Grapes, Diapers, toothpaste, paper towels, pasta, dishwasher tablets, salad dressing, dish soap, ketchup, the list goes on and on.

Last week I caught amazing deals on clearance meat (you have to use or freeze it within two days of buying it) and saved $50 on meat alone.

That said, I’m totally addicted. I am pretty sure that the days of running into the store to “pick up a few things” that resulted in a $75 trip are way over.

Happily over.

I figure that if companies want to give me their deeply discounted or free items I can spend the 2 hours it takes to plan my attack. Right?

But no worries, I have no plans to be on the TLC show…YET.

Love to all,

I have read 2 books since Bitzy was born. TWO. Actually that’s not true. I’ve read at least 2.5 billion kid books. Let me clarify: I’ve only read two books that don’t print the words on cardboard and smell like strawberries when you scratch them. Since you’re dying to know, they are “Heaven is For Real” (excellent) and “The Help” (stunning). Take in mind that pre-baby I could put 2 novels away per week. I devoured good books, a real sucker for a good memoir. After my sweetheart was born I would read a paragraph here and there of baby help books (useless), but the days of endlessly curling up with a book are way over. Happily over to be sure, but still O-V-E-R.

I’m disgusted with how much food we have in the freezer and pantry. There are starving babies for goodness sake. I think we can go for a week without fresh fruit. That said, I have declared that all meals will come from food that we already have this week (and maybe next). So far, so good. Granted, tonight I used my last fresh veggie (green pepper), so after the leftovers are gone from tonight’s dinner, we may be feasting on more creative foods. Perhaps tomorrow will be something totally new and unique! How about corn and peas casserole or peanut butter and cracker ragu. No? Too weird? I’ll figure something out. I’m excited to use our resources wisely and weirdly! Ha.

I am fairly certain that I successfully addicted baby #2 to my arms. My sweet baby boy is now 3 months old and loves to snuggle, and clearly I love to snuggle him right back. My Bitzy screamed bloody murder day in and day out for the first 5 months of her life unless I was holding her, so I’m pretty sure that my arms have magic dust on them. Slowly but surely my sweet boy is making it very clear that he wants a piece of the magic. I’m scared that we may end up with another round of sleep wars…oh well. I’m gonna enjoy the snuggles while they last.

Is it bad that I dreamt last night about coconut cream pie? I have a problem. Just for the record, a Coconut Cream Pie Milkshake from Sonic is 18 points. Ouch. Almost worth it. Almost, but not quite.

My hair is in a bad place. A really, really, really bad place. I don’t think it’s been this long since college. And trust me, long hair is not a good look for me. Must.Get.Haircut. I hit an all time low on Saturday when I took a “mommy time-out” during nap time and ventured to “The Wal-Mart.” I actually walked in the hair salon located inside “The Wal-Mart.” By some stroke of miracle they were busy and couldn’t cut my awful hair. This my friends is how you spell desperation.

Any confessions that you’d like to get off your chest?

Random picture for you. Sometimes my “excited eyes” become my creepy eyes. Yikes. Good thing my girl is SO CUTE.

As I sit, my two miracles are napping, I just took a shower, cleaned two bathrooms and sat down to write something wonderful for you, my sweet friends.

But, as I have suspected for awhile now, my brain is only firing on half cylinders. I have stared at this screen for five minutes without one original thought. And then I remembered a friend of mine once told me that after she had kids (she has 4), she lost some intellect and gained strengths in organization, multi-tasking, cooking, etc. At the time I thought she was nuts…but now, has this happened to me?

I can cook dinner with a baby on my hip with no problem, but for the life of me I cannot spell.

I can fold and put away laundry all while dancing like a champ to the Hokey Pokey, but I can’t remember the words to the Star Spangled Banner (could I ever?).

I am teaching my 22 month old how to count to 20, but I can barely remember how to do long division.

Am I alone here? Perhaps it’s exhaustion or forgetfulness. Maybe my brain will snap back.

All I know is when I look at this screen, my ideas take a nap and I’m left to wonder what kind of mush my brain will become with a couple more kiddos.

As you know, I’m a die hard fan of Milky Way.

The marriage of carmel and chocolate is one of miracles.

I do not particularly care for carmel by itself, but layered between chocolate, I’m smitten.

Side note: since I’m now a small town gal and frequent “The Wal-Mart” I simply must get my chocolate fix every single time I go through the check out. But not just the regular one…the king size (because apparently the normal size just doesn’t cut it). That’s right. A king size. I’m woman enough to admit it.

I have no regrets.

But today, as I looked at the brown and green packaging of my kind lover Milky Way, a shiny gold package began calling my name. “Molly, Molly. Remember me from 7th grade? We had a brief, but significant love affair. Try me again. I will not disappoint.”

Twix.

Ah, Twix. It’s true. In 7th grade I gave up eating all together except for Twix.

You see, my affair with sugar goes way back.

But I digress.

So, as I’m being taunted by the pristine gold packaging I look back at my old pal in the brown and boring wrapper. “Can I really cheat on you like that little buddy? You are my faithful friend.” Then, evitabilty the justification begins. “But it’s just this once. It doesn’t mean anything. No one ever has to know.”

And then, I did the unthinkable.

I bought the Twix.

My hands tremble as I admit it.

As I was pulling out of my parking spot and trying not to hit the meth addict that was entering “The Wal-Mart” I ripped open the package with the reckless abandon of a 7th grader.

Suddenly my heart began singing like it was 1992. And right then and there I knew that it was time to break up with Milky Way.

My heart belonged to Twix all along.

So, I sang “The End of the Road” to Milky Way and then married Twix. “I’ll never leave you again love. Never.”

Is this making you hungry friends?  How about a musical snack?

You’re welcome.

Do you have any candy love affairs that you’d like to speak of. Don’t be shy. I mean, I just admitted to the interwebs that I eat a King Size candy bar at least once a week. Who does that??? Oh wait, me! I’m so lame.

“I’m going to count to three.” (In my most stern “I mean it” voice).

“No Mommy, I sorry.” (In her “I’m so little and precious” voice).

“Baby please put on your listening ears and walk up the steps with mommy.”

“No, No, NOOOOOO.”

“Bitzy, do not tell mommy no.”

“I sorry mommy. ‘Give you?”

“Yes baby, mommy forgives you. Please come up stairs honey, brother is crying and we need to help him.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I sorry mama. I sorry. ‘Give you?”

“Yes baby, I forgive you. Please don’t tell mommy no. Now come on we have to go up stairs right now because brother needs us.”

Then she begins dancing in circles singing her version of Dora the Explorer theme song.

“Bitzy, please come on. We need to help brother now. I’m going to count to three and if you do not come here then you’re going to time out. Do you understand?”

“Yes mama. Luv you. Bootfull mama.”

“One.”

Continues dancing.

“Two.”

Runs into the kitchen singing more loudly.

“Three. OK, come on, you’re in trouble. Time-out time.”

Walks to me with her head down crying.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“I sorry mama. I luv u. Me troobull?”

“Yes baby. You’re in trouble for not listening. You have to go to timeout for one minute for not listening to mama.”

“OK mama. I sorry. ‘Give you?”

“Yes, I forgive you. Now sit still for one minute on the mat, it’s time-out.”

She starts crying (loudly).

“i loove you mama. ‘Give you. Pweese ‘give you. Make cup-cups for you?”

“Baby, please be quiet, you’re in time-out.”

More crying. Lots and lots of crying.

“Okay baby it’s been one minute. Give mommy hugs and kisses. Mommy loves you so much. You need to listen to mommy okay?”

“Okay mama. I loove you mama. I sowrry.”

“Baby, let’s go upstairs and help brother.”

“Sure, Mama. Fun baby, shuweet baby. Tiny baby.”

“Great! Let’s go!!

CRYING.

“NO, NO, NO. No like it.”

Runs away screaming like I’m asking her to gouge out her eyes with a spoon. When in fact I’m asking her to walking up the freaking steps where her baby brother has been whining/crying for 3 minutes as she loses her mind in Toddlerville.

“Bitzy, do you want to go to time-out again?”

“No mommy, no! Loove you mommy much.”

“Okay, then let’s go upstairs now.”

Rather than finally getting her to go up the steps of her own accord like a good mommy, I pick her up kicking and screaming and drop her off in her room and then tend to Brother. Meanwhile, she sits in the floor with her books and acts like she’s the happiest she’s even been.

Is this normal or should I invest in some kind of protective gear for when she turns two?

The kid is a roller coaster all day, everyday.

But, ya know what? It’s the greatest time I’ve ever had at a theme park!

Ha!