Monthly Archives: February 2015



We have three beautiful, smart, amazing girls…


And now a son.

He will be turning three tomorrow.

And I am not sure I like that.

Yes he drives me mad, and is the ultimate mess maker. He screams and yells. And even hits sometimes.

But he is my son.

I am wildly astounded that I have a son now.

We had just the three girls for so long and thought we were done.

The factory was closed.

But he is here now, completing our family circle. He, like our daughters, commands attention from all those around him when he is in a room.

He is funny and and tough and loud…and yet can be so sweet and lovable.


I will never forget the moment I met him. His almost eleven pound body was so warm and the nurse leaned him in for a kiss…his sweet soft baby skin was so warm. 

I have never felt such an instant bond…and fear all at once.

I have bonds with my girls, don’t get me wrong.

But he is my last. He is my boy.

The moment we met will live with me forever as I watch him grow from chubby little fingers, into a young man with strong hands, who will honor and protect and provide for his family someday as his father does now for us.

I may cry in my pillow tonight as I relive that day three years ago when I delivered my last child.

Admittedly, I am not that mom that soaks up every minute of being the best mommy ever and relishing all the little moments I share with my children.

I try. But that is not real life.

My almost three-year-old is napping peacefully right now, so I am stealing this moment to soak it up…

I have three beautiful daughters…and a son.

Happy birthday, Chance.



Taking The Plunge.

Taking The Plunge.

I always thought I knew something about this. Diving deep into it, realizing I literally had no clue what I was trying to do.

It is very similar to dating. It needs to be a perfect fit. It needs to be submerged totally into the situation to be able to commit. To make it work. Otherwise, it will suck you dry or overflow with emotion.

That was me and my hot date tonight…

With a plunger.

I swear I knew how to use one.

After living on my own for a few years and my hubby traveling sometimes more than being home, I assumed I used one on occasion.

Not the case after scouring countless websites and DIY videos. After running to Lowe’s with my two little ones to buy a snake just in case my final attempt at plunging failed yet again.

On top of my fears of not being able to fix not one but TWO clogged toilets, I began my usual ranting and raving and discovered that my kids MAY have been throwing kitty litter in the one toilet from the litter boxes…

Well, well, well…

Needless to say when I googled that topic, it was not a good outcome. And the young kind fella  in Lowe’s who led me to the snakes,  looked bug-eyed and pursed his lips…then reiterated what I had already read online…

VERY bad.

Very expensive…and may need to pull the toilet out.



 Not this mama.

I scanned the internet some more on the how-to’s of using a snake, put my Supermom cape on and used my ten-dollar snake till I conquered both toilets.

Messy. Gross. Disgusting.

Don’t think we should ever compare dating to the act of plunging a toilet…maybe some marriages or relationships and friendships after they run their course…but not dating.  They may seem similar, but I may be a tad on the grumpy side tonight after the events of my day (while the hubby is on yet another trip…not just for Utah anymore-see blog regarding Utah), so don’t take dating advice from me.

But if you are on a date and you are thinking this person may just suck the life out of you,  then run. Or call a plumber…he could just be what you were always waiting for!

The Rush.

The Rush.

Good Lord. Can life be any crazier?

The rush. 

The rush to wake up early after very little sleep and get the day started.

The rush to make and eat and clean up breakfast.

Get everyone cleaned, dressed and ready to rush out the door.

Check the clock.

Not late yet, but pushing our luck.

God help us if we have a last-minute diaper change or run to the potty.

Rushing to finish task number one on our “day off”.

Rushing to prep yet another meal. Eat. Clean it up…again.

Are we having fun yet?

Rush to throw more laundry in after lunch and contemplate a quick dinner for later.

Find hubby’s suitcase for trip number three this month.

Have daughter’s car towed for the second time in week before hubby leaves.

Rush to squeeze in five minutes of googling  a new car for daughter.

Time to rush out the door again.

This will not stop till I rush to get little ones bathed and in pj’s and into bed, in hopes that my eyes will stay open long enough to read a few pages of my new book, or write another blog, or watch some mindless show on t.v.

I am pretty sure I may have written about a day just like this one, several times before. So if there is one thing you have learned about me, that there is a small bit of consistency in my life.

I am rushing now to finish this before the troops literally come marching in to find me huddled at the computer venting about my day so far…

Maybe I should start running… I am getting faster with all this rushing around and typing like a whiz…



Oh yeah…that is a bad word.

It is mean.

It ticks people off. It brings out the worst in people.

Well, when you are pointing out someone’s struggle with weight, that is…

It is just plain rude or annoying.

Been there, done that.

I recently had a person go so far as to ask me if I was pregnant again…

Yep they said that.

Which is a moment when you feel more sorry for the person who just made the comment than feeling sorry for your overweight self. That awkward moment…

Silence… and then the realization of what just occurred.  Ouch.

Yes it hurt.

I cried.

I wallowed in countless cookies and treats…why deprive myself of my favorite goodies? Losing two pounds after months of walking and changing my diet ( I was PROUD of those two shed pounds) , and someone STILL thinks I look pregnant?

My response was…”Nope…no baby. Just FAT“…

Heck…why not?  Why can’t I say that to her?

If she was bold enough to say it, I was bold enough, and FAT enough apparently,  to fight back.

I still say hi and smile to my charming aquaintance, but will never forget that moment.

It was a definite motivator.

Funny though that the person has yet to notice the thirty pounds of FAT that have left my body forever.

That is ok…

I did.

I finally caved, and bought some new jeans.

Twice! ( That deserves an exclamation point!) I am down two sizes…and just about ready for another downsizing.

Which was weird for me after years of struggling with only two or five pounds at the most.

But AWESOME all at the same time!

I hesitated for a few months actually to buy anything. I think I was playing mind games with myself…the FAT always returns…do NOT purchase or donate anything just yet.

Maybe it isn’t as noticable in jeans that fit me properly now. I truly thought it was more noticable when it looked like I could fit two of me in my jeans as I constantly needed to hike them up even with a belt.

My momma pouch/jelly roll always held the waistline or belt in place…but not anymore. Not too much fat lives in that area now.

I may still be a little bigger than the average woman, but feeling good inside and out…jumping and running to chase my kids is FUN now…not embarassing.

This is MY small victory against FAT…thirty pounds was something I only saw one other time in my battle against weight loss and getting healthy.


THIRTY POUNDS…that is equivalent to ten meatloafs for my family…


 That’s alot of meatloaf.

I pray that no one takes offense to my story. I write this knowing dozens of women I adore, love, and respect are fighting the good fight with FAT. And I am certain there are thousands more. Maybe it would motivate one…maybe none.

But that is ok.

I am proud of me…and FAT is not my friend anymore.