I Did It!

Well, I did it! I managed to finish my very first 5k. My makeup free face didn't scare any small children, I didn't vomit, I didn't die, and the tops of my thighs rubbing together didn't set my underwear on fire, so all in all it was a pretty great morning! Many moons ago one of my bodybuilder friends posted something that said, "You can do it. You can breathe. Your legs don't hurt. You can do it. Just run!" I really tried to tell myself that during the race, but here's the truth: It hurt. It hurt bad. I did feel like I couldn't breathe, and I really wanted a drink of water. But I finished. I finished with a personal best, a whopping 10 minutes faster than I have ever run 3.1 miles at home, and I did run to the finish line.
Naturally, I had a few first race issues. I pinned my race bib over what I like to call my "non baby bump" which was nice. My "Will Run for Ice Cream" headband did its job and kept the sweat out of my eyes, which was also helpful. I bought an armband to hold my cell phone so that I could listen to my music while I ran. Unfortunately, I got in a fight with it at the starting line. By the time I got it working, my music started halfway through my playlist. This was a problem, because I have the  songs memorized, and I know how much farther I have to go by which song is on. As a result, I ran out of music before I was done with the race. Note to self: Add more songs to my playlist!
I also figured out that running on asphalt is completely different than running on my treadmill. My legs were burning, and I certainly need to work on getting my wind built up. I was beaten by no less than two people pushing strollers and one guy pushing a wheelchair. I was also outrun by two boys, ages 6 and 7, who had enough energy to chat, push, and shove each other during the race.
For the race itself, I was smart enough to start toward the back of the pack. I stayed with the same few women for most of the race, most of whom appeared to be about my age. I'm sure they enjoyed listening to me huff and puff the whole time. As we were coming into the stadium, I was walking with one woman who was concerned that we were the last two runners. (We weren't. Not by a long shot.) At one point on the course, we were running in one direction and meeting the race leaders going the other way. That wasn't discouraging at all! It did help that as he went by, the ladies in front of me were saying things like, "Loser! Overachiever! Slob!" He ran the course in exactly one half of the time it took me. So at least I have room for improvement. Ha, ha!
All in all, I had a great time and accomplished something I wasn't certain I could just a few short weeks ago. And yes, I'm already looking into doing another one. I must be a glutton for punishment!

The March for April

The March for April 5k is here! Tomorrow morning will be my first foot race since the 50 yard dash in the third grade. It's safe to say that it's been a minute! It's also a well-known fact that as soon as I learned how to ride a horse my running days were officially over. I definitely prefer riding to running, but this time it's for a good cause.
We all tend to think of ourselves as too young or too healthy for cancer. I mean, cancer is something that happens to other people, right? Old, sick people, not young "healthy" women with jobs, children, and busy lives to live. I have said before that cancer has touched my life early and often. It has taken my grandmother, my mother, and one of my closest friends.
The race I am running in tomorrow is a benefit for a high school classmate that has leukemia. After the race, I'll be getting my cheek swabbed to see if I'm a match for her bone marrow type. She needs a transplant, and she's been put in the hospital with a fever. I can't imagine having to miss such a huge event planned in your honor. I know she has been looking forward to it for months, but even a simple infection could be deadly for her. Talk about a reality check. Someone my age facing the agony that goes along with having cancer and contemplating their own mortality. Sure makes me grateful for my own health, as well as the healthy people and children in my life.
Today was frantic, trying to get all of our animals situated and packing for 5 people. We got away much later than we intended, and I couldn't help but think there was something working against me all day. I thought to myself at least a dozen times that I should have taken my husband's advice and come on this trip alone. But I wanted my kids to get to spend the night with their grandparents, and frankly, I wanted my husband there to help me celebrate finishing the race. Accomplishments just don't feel as important if he's not there to share them with me.
So I'm off to get the kids settled and try to get a good night's sleep. Here's hoping 3.1 miles feels shorter tomorrow than it ever has!  

It's getting closer!

My 5k debut is getting closer. Much closer. As in, it's Saturday. Two days from now. I am confident that I can finish. I am also confident that I will not be setting any records. But I will be there, putting in the effort, and I suppose that's what matters. I got an awesome headband for the race that says, "Will Run for Ice Cream" and an armband for my music. Naturally, I wish I had started training sooner so that I could be going faster by now, but I suppose everyone has to start somewhere.
I am not one of "those" women who run. You know, the ones who go grocery shopping in their running shorts and have a 26.2 sticker in their back window. I am one of those people who mention casually that I'm going to run a 5k and have people say, "Really? You're going to run? You're going to run 5k?" while trying not to look so surprised.
I am one of those people who's going to have a Susan Powter moment. Not the moment where she went mental, got a crew cut and dyed it blonde, but the one where she suddenly bent over to check out her thighs and screamed, "My thighs don't rub together anymore!" It's coming, I swear it is. That bucket of bolts I call a scale was finally forced to admit that I had lost a couple of pounds, but more importantly, my clothes are fitting looser and my wobbly bits aren't as wobbly anymore. So I feel like I am making progress, slowly but surely.
I promised my friend Beth that I would never run a 5k in her honor. So I can't say that this one is for her, but since it's for a high school classmate who has leukemia, I don't figure she would mind. Either way, Beth's going to get a kick out of me huffing and puffing along, I'm fairly certain about that. It's "only" 3.1 miles, right?

Thanks so much!

Thank you very much to everyone who has purchased a book so far! I couldn't be more pleased with how things have gone. I wrote this book for a number of reasons, the biggest being so that when mommy brain plus age transforms my memory into a sad, deflated balloon I will be able to recall the stories I want to tell my kids over and over again. (Especially when I want to get on their nerves! Hey - payback is a witch, girls!)
Also, I wanted to give tired, struggling moms out there a laugh. Even more than that, I hope that someone out there will read about what I've been through and realize that they are not alone in the mother "hood." That sounds so silly - none of us was the first to have a baby or struggle with the monumental job of raising short people who act just like us. But motherhood can make you feel very, very isolated at times.
I really struggled with whether to share my experience with "postpartum" depression. I write it that way because after the birth of my kids was certainly not the first time in my life I had dealt with depression. It just catapulted it to a whole other level. Admitting to the world that you have struggled with this or that is a very personal and private thing, and I wasn't completely sure that I wanted to be so transparent. But I felt like it was important, if for no other reason than to hope that someone will read about my experience and find the courage to deal with their own issues.
Here's my attempt at a motivational speech: You are not alone. You are not the first or the last person to deal with depression or whatever is troubling you. You WILL make it through it. Time does not heal all wounds. That is a crock. Time makes some things easier, and then there are some hurts that will never, ever become less painful. Those are the things that require you to dig deep down inside and find a way to go on.
I have learned that life is full of spectacular highs and devastating lows. Learning to really live somewhere in the middle has been my biggest challenge. Each day when I wake up, I pray a prayer of thanksgiving for all of the joy and the blessings in my life. That's a fairly recent habit for me, and I can't say enough about the difference it makes in my outlook on things. Here's hoping all of your lives are filled with more laughter than tears.

Cheap Shoes

I am pleased to say that I "ran" a 5k on the treadmill this morning without stopping. I bought new, cushy running shoes last night on the advice of a friend who marathons. When I complained about my sore back and shin splints, he promptly asked if I was stretching and running in cheap shoes. Now, as far as I'm concerned, my Saucony running shoes were not "cheap" by any stretch of the imagination. However, as one so often does when just getting into a sport, last night I found out how wrong I was! After a fabulous birthday dinner where I ate way too much and an hour in Dick's Sporting Goods, I can honestly say that I no longer run in cheap shoes.
I have also been making use of our equine cold spa and therapy laser nearly every day. My shin splints were 95% gone after just one spa/laser treatment, and frankly, my horses are out of excuses not to run. My legs and feet feel so good that I no longer feel sorry for them! Okay, fine, so I didn't run while carrying a fat girl on my back, but still.
This morning I am stranded at home because my husband's truck is in the shop getting tires and he's at work in my Suburban. I wonder if he thinks that leaving me here without a car will force me to clean house? Not likely, Sweetheart. I'm totally kidding. Okay, I'm at least partially kidding. I'm off to fold laundry, but I will leave you with the baby's question of the day. While poking around in and examining my confirmationally challenged belly button (having twins causes some collateral damage) my baby looks at me and says, "Mama, where is you belly button? Is it in there?" Yep, I'm pretty sure it is. Somewhere.
 

Happy Birthday to me and goodbye, Fred

It's funny how, as we age, birthdays begin to take on different meanings. As a child, I can remember looking forward to my big day all year with breathless anticipation. I couldn't wait for the day of my birthday party. Looking back on it, my parties were never expensive or outlandish, but those Sunday afternoons full of crepe paper streamers and balloons at my mom's house were some of the best days of my life.
My children are under the impression that I'm 26. I don't know where they might have gotten such an idea, but I'm not about to correct them, and you'd better not either, if you know what's good for you! The other day Savannah told me that she thought she wanted to write a "blob" about her own kids someday. Then she stopped and said, "But I'm not sure I want to have my own kids." "That's okay," I replied. "I was 29 before I knew for sure that I wanted to have my own kids!" She looked a little confused, then said, "But mom, you're only 26 now. You couldn't have had us when you were 29!" Right, right. I almost forgot! Silly me.
Sharlee asked my yesterday if EVERYBODY got fat when they turned 35. I said, "No, everybody doesn't. Why?" "Well, I heard on the radio that people in their forties needed to lose weight!"
On a really sad note, today I had the unenviable task of euthanizing my friend Beth's dog, Fred. He was hit by a car about a week ago and his back was fractured. Despite the care of three vets and daily laser treatments, he still couldn't get up.
Those of you who have been readers for awhile will remember that Beth was my dear, dear friend who lost her fight with breast cancer last September. Her Corgi, Fred the Fairy Dog, actually made it into her eulogy as a survivor. She loved that dog, and all I could think as I knelt beside him today and stroked his head to let him know that he was loved and he was not alone, was that I know she is there waiting for him. I know two friends who will be happy, happy, happy to see each other!
When people are sick, their friends often ask what they can "do for" them. I was completely humbled and pleased when Beth asked me to come over and give her a shot she was too afraid to give to herself. As hard as it was for me, taking care of Fred in his final moments was something else I could do for her, and as such, I consider it an honor. You sure were a good boy, Fred. Give your mom a kiss for me.

I apologize

It's always interesting and a little scary to hear the things that go through my children's minds. Overheard this morning in the bathroom:

Child: (From the toilet, where she does her best thinking) Daddy, can you come in here? I have a quick question.
Daddy: What?
Child: Well, I was just wondering, why is it that big people get to boss little people around, and you know, tell them what to do?
Daddy: Hmm, it's not really that big people get to tell little people what to do, exactly. But I'm your dad and it's my job to take care of you until you're old enough to make your own decisions.
Child: Well, if this country's about freedom, that just don't really seem fair!
Daddy: Tell you what, when you're 18 you can have all the freedom you want.
Child: It just don't seem fair. That's all I'm saying.

Yes, dear child, it's totally unfair that you have two parents who care where you go and what you do, who you hang out with and whether you come home at night. After reading about the Stuebenville rape case in the news this week, my husband has decided that his girls will never be attending a party of any kind. I guess he thinks these cute little outgoing things are going to stay shut up in their bedrooms until they are old enough to get married (which is never, as far as he's concerned.)
I choose to take a slightly different approach, which is to remind you three that I know everybody. My mom used to tell me that every time I left home. She was a hairdresser, and in our small community that was pretty much true. She knew at least one person in every room I ever walked into, and she didn't even have Facebook to help her out!
So I'm going to issue a pre-apology. I apologize for every time that your dad and I will embarrass you in the future. I apologize for every time you will be called a prude, or a party pooper, or a goody two shoes. I apologize for wanting to keep you safe, to preserve your innocence for as long as possible, and for letting you just be a little girl. I apologize for pushing you to be the best at whatever you decide to do, and for reminding you constantly that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to if you work hard enough. Oh wait - no I don't.

A Day of Unrest

Sorry for the lack of new material yesterday. You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. My Sunday, the Lord's day of "rest" did not turn out that way for us. I woke up much later than I normally sleep in a blind panic because somewhere in the dark, foggy recesses of my mommy brain I thought I remembered committing to teach my daughters' Sunday school class on that day. I rushed to get myself and my girls ready for church, throwing us all together in such a hurry that I'm surprised someone didn't arrive at church with no shoes on. Or even worse, do what I did when Sheridan was very small and we were attending a church that started much earlier - realize in the middle of the service that I had forgotten to brush my teeth! Talk about couldn't get home fast enough.
As it turns out, my brain let me down once again. We arrived at church on two wheels only to find that their regular teacher was indeed there and had no memory of ever asking me to teach the class. Did I dream that conversation? Make it up? Frankly, I have no idea. I told you my kids suck my brain out bit by bit while I sleep.
After church, we did our standard Mexican Sunday lunch, then headed home for what I thought might be a relaxing afternoon of napping. Needless to say, my children had other plans. Since they refused to let us nap, I ended up working a barrel horse and running. I only "wogged" a mile, as the point was to test out my new running gear. I am happy to say that the clothes worked fine; however, my lungs did not. I had been assured that running outside was different than running on a treadmill, and I have to say that I agree. It sucks worse, it hurts worse, I gasp for air sooner, and I do indeed run faster. I have already begun to assure my husband that he needn't expect too much out of my first race. My goal is simply to finish, even if I have to walk most of the way. I know I'm capable of at least that!
My big girls went back to school today, and I have to say that I miss them, even though it is rather nice to have the baby playing contentedly by herself in the other room and no one screaming, "This is MINE! Now give it back!" Wailing generally follows, along with something like, "MOM! She hit me in the face!" I daydream about a time in which I go an entire day without hearing the sound of someone trying to beat the crap out of someone else in my living room. Or better yet, a day in which everyone is happy with the item they got, be it a cup, pair of underwear, or clothing item. What if everything was exactly the right color and the right size? I would be contacting the Pope, because a miracle would have happened in my very own home.
Thinking about the mundane things in my life makes me so very thankful that I have the privilege to complain about the little things. Mostly I am extremely grateful that my husband is healthy, my children are healthy, and I am healthy. That in itself is an enormous blessing, as I found out this week that my high school classmate's leukemia has recurred. Our family has so much to be thankful for, both the public things and the private ones. Our life may be a three-ring circus most days, with a ringmaster who isn't truly the master of anything, but at least we are here to live it. Bring on the clowns!

The book is here!

Whew! The last few days have been ridiculously crazy around our house. Every time I would think I was about to get caught up on my to-do list, I'd remember just one more thing I needed to get done. And then another. And then one more...until I finally just quit and fell into bed. I learned many years ago that I am only able to accomplish a certain number of things in a day, and when I became a mom I figured out that I had better prioritize them carefully. Perhaps that is why fun things like riding my horses end up on the top of the list and less appealing things like house cleaning are somewhere near the bottom. That would be why my house usually looks like a toy bomb exploded in my living room and our dust bunnies are fat and happy. But at least my husband and kids are happy, too. Most of the time, anyway.
Long before we had children, Kirk and I used to drive by a certain house and make snide remarks about how it always looked like someone had walked out into the yard and vomited toys. That person now lives with us, but we like to keep him in the house. I used to worry when someone new would come over, doing that whole flight of the bumblebee thing and cleaning up at record speed, just so I could open the door and say, "Don't look at my house! It's a mess!" Let's face it folks, it's always a mess. I have three small kids who I have done a lousy job of teaching to pick up after themselves (which I am working hard to remedy.) I have so many other things I'd rather do than sweep the floor, it's not even funny. Now I'm going to go watch an episode of "Hoarders" so I won't feel so bad.
In other news, IT'S HERE! My very first book is here! And I actually sold four last night. The fact that someone would actually pay to read something I wrote is both exciting and very humbling. I hope that it will provide some insight for the people I've ticked off over the years into why I am the way I am, and maybe it will give someone a laugh. Or make them think twice about becoming a parent. Either way.
I am working on adding a Paypal button/shopping cart to the site. As soon as I get it figured out, I will let everyone know. For now, you may contact me directly and I will mail it to you, or you can purchase from Amazon.com. Just search my name, Courtney Shumpert, and it will come up. Thank you so much to everyone who has already purchased the book. I hope it is as much fun to read as it was to write!

More to come!

Just a quick note - I "wogged" 5k again this morning (if you don't know what that means, see my previous post) and it sucked just as much as it did yesterday morning. I am sore, I am tired, and I am drinking water by the gallon. Oh, and I improved my time by 12 seconds, so maybe if I decide to do this whole race thing I won't get beat by the old lady on the walker. Maybe.
In other news, I am anxiously awaiting the first 100 copies of my book, which are supposed to be delivered this week! I am like a kid waiting for Christmas. So much going on these days, it's hard to know whether I'm coming or going. But that's why I have my blog...so that maybe I can remember something about these days that all seem to go by in a blur. Off to play on this beautiful day!

5k Courtney

If you thought you heard the sound of someone panting like a dying pony this morning, it was me. I ran my first 5k (on my treadmill) in a reallllly long time. I am excited to say that I did not vomit or pass out. I also completely understand why those of you who marathon can run a 5k like it's nothing. When I consider that I didn't even run a third of a marathon this morning, I am even more in awe of the crazy people who actually run that far.
Let's make something clear. I didn't "run" a 5k, more like joggged. Or "wogged" as I like to call it. That means I jog as long as I can without falling over and then walk until I think I can jog some more. Sometimes I get really psycho and actually run part of the way, but I always regret it when I find myself gasping for air and thinking, "Surely I've been farther than that!"
Lest you read this and conjured up an image of some skinny person with bulging muscles, let me assure you that I am not. I am the halfway-done Biggest Loser contestant, who stands on the scale, marvels at how much weight they've lost, and in their mind hears the people at home saying, "Dang, she's STILL fat!" I say that with a smile, because I'm only half kidding. When I think about the effort I've put in, I should weigh approximately 98 pounds. When my scale thinks about the effort I've actually put in, it refuses to admit that I've lost an ounce. Piece of junk. It was probably assembled out of spare parts by a child in Bangladesh. I'm just sure that's it!
Either way, this morning's effort was purely the result of peer pressure. My husband heard me mention a benefit 5k for a high school friend and has begun to needle me mercilessly about how I should go do it because I "can." So this morning I proved to myself that I am physically capable of traveling that far. Whether I'm willing to do it in person is a horse of a different color.

Good news!

I am extremely excited to report that my checkup/mammogram yesterday was all clear. Now I can worry about one less thing until I'm 40. Ha! Also, I got word from the publisher today that my book is finished! Now I wait the 7 to 10 days for shipping. I am so ready for it to get here! I will check it out and make sure there are no glaring mistakes, then it will be available here and from me directly, as well as Amazon.com. I will let everyone know when I have it. Lots to be thankful for this week!

The Doctor's Office

Blogging from the road today! Thank goodness for my iPad. I might not ever get anything done. Yesterday I kicked my own butt on the treadmill to the point that I had to blog from my recliner while lying down. I do have to say that it's pretty hard to finish a post when you keep falling asleep! But it's all going to be worth it when my clothes fit again and my horses stop giving me that "Hey, lardass, would you lose a few if you're going to be sitting on my back every day" look when I start to get on. Nobody likes that look.
I spent my morning in the doctor's office having a mammogram. Not very high on the list of things I enjoy, and not a fun place to hang out, either. Sitting in the waiting room people watching, it was easy to pick out who was already sick (those who came in carrying thick folders of medical records and xrays) and those who were people like me, rolling along feeling bulletproof in their day to day life and wondering if the result of this test would change everything. To make matters worse, all of the employees and nurses are extra cheerful. I suppose they have to be to deal with the sick and the about-to-find-out-they're-sick on a daily basis. I also find it unnerving to be in a place with a box of Kleenex in every single waiting area. Reminds me of a funeral home.
I couldn't help but think of my friend Beth while I was there. Breast cancer took her life in September, and I kept wondering if her journey started in the same spot I was sitting in. Was my life about to take the same turn that hers had? I certainly hope not. I spent my time waiting thanking God for my health and for a good report. Fine, I admit it. I believe in the power of positive thinking and all that crap! I'm not meditating daily or doing yoga yet, but it can't be far behind.
As a person who lost her mother to cancer when both she and I were young, it would be very easy for me to go through life waiting for the other shoe to drop. I could spend hours and hours worrying about getting sick, leaving my husband and kids, all sorts of unpleasant things. But I choose to focus on the wonderful things that have already happened to me and those that are on the horizon. I believe that I am happy, healthy, and full of potential, and I will until further notice.

The Bathroom Expert

Today I'm going to share my expertise in one of the most disgusting places in the world. People only go there because they have to, and many people avoid them at all costs. Children love them, and feel compelled to touch each and every surface in them. They are...public bathrooms.
How does one become an expert on public bathrooms? I'm glad you asked. Allow me to explain. My cousin assures me that every single time I went anywhere with her family when I was a kid they had to find me a bathroom. My husband on more than one occasion has called me the "bathroomingest woman" he's ever seen, and no, I wasn't pregnant at the time. Having been blessed with what he lovingly refers to as my "microbladder" I find myself in search of a restroom fairly often. Add three kids who always have to go (they never have to go when we leave home) and I know precisely where nearly every public restroom in Tupelo, Mooreville, and Mantachie is located.
Public restrooms are not all bad. I've visited nearly every one in North Mississippi. You can learn a lot. For instance, a gentleman named Phil has a very large, ahem, member. And for a good time you should call a young lady named Mary. Sally is a man-stealing homewrecker, Chris is a homosexual, and John should really try some Viagra. Oh, and Shelly passed through Tupelo on her spring break trip to Panama Beach. So much vital information can be gleaned from bathroom wall graffiti! Now that my kids can read, checking out a stall before they go in has taken on a whole new meaning.
Public restrooms are not always well thought out. Early on, I figured out that a double stroller will only fit in a handicapped stall. Bathrooms with one of those were a plus! These days, I still look for the big stall, since I generally have a herd of small children with me. Not too long ago, I led the parade into the big stall and saw something I've never seen before! (I know, I was as surprised as you are.) The toilet paper holder was on the opposite wall from the toilet. Keep in mind that this was a HANDICAPPED stall. How the heck is a disabled person supposed to reach the toilet paper when I can't do it? Shouldn't that be against some sort of law? You know, all disabled people have the right to freely accessible toilet paper in handicapped stalls? Sheesh. And no, my mental problem does not count as a disability. Ha, ha. Toilet paper location never mattered to me until I had kids. It really presents a problem when they've locked the door, done their business, and suddenly realize that their arms are too short to reach the toilet paper. True story.
Being a public restroom expert, I was caught off guard yet again the other day at Kroger. We ran in to  pick up just a few things and of course, the kids had to pee. Having been there, done that, I knew right where the restroom was. One child headed into the small stall, closed the door, sat down, and WHACK! Wailing commenced, and all sorts of things began to run through my mind. What on Earth? Had she fallen in the toilet? Pulled the toilet paper dispenser off the wall? Nope! Even better! When my daughter reached for the toilet paper, the unlocked dispenser swung open and hit her hard, right across the bridge of her nose. Never a dull moment around here!

Back on Track

Hopefully I will be back on track tomorrow! Today was really busy, and I spent my afternoon at the hospital with my sweet mother-in-law who was having an endoscopy done and couldn't drive herself home. Although, like every other day, I had a million things I needed to be doing, I know that I was right where I was supposed to be. I am happy to say that the doctor did not find anything that he thought was a malignancy. Apparently she has some sort of cyst on her pancreas that he does not feel will cause her any problems for the rest of her days! So now we can all stop worrying.
I have so many new things to blog about, I wonder if I will ever get caught up. For now, I will leave you with this: Jeff Foxworthy says that, "If your checks feature pictures of dogs fighting, you might be a redneck." So here's my take on that. If your checks feature pictures of your children fighting, what does that make you?

Disneyland

So here it is...my totally unsolicited, uncompensated, shameless plug for Disneyland. When we discovered that we would be filming AFV in Manhattan Beach, CA, we also figured out that Disneyland was about 30 minutes away. My kids have been begging to go to Disney for years, and my excuse up to this point has been one of two things: I'm not riding in a car with three little kids for that long or I'm not getting on a plane with three little kids for that long. Now that we have been "forced" to face our fears (AFV prize money is a great incentive) and made multiple cross-country flights with my kids, I wasn't about to be 30 minutes away and not take them to Disneyland. So we did a little online research and planned our trip.
Having never really planned a trip like this one, we decided our best bet was to stay at a hotel in the park. I looked at the three choices and picked the one that looked like the most fun for us - the Disneyland Hotel. I have to say that was one of the best selections we made! I can honestly say that I've never stayed anywhere more fun. The girls had a fantastic time searching for "hidden" Mickey Mouse faces in the room's decor. The bathroom lights were held in place by two large white Mickey Mouse hands, but by far the most amazing part of our room was the headbord that took up one enitre wall. It was a beautiful cutout castle scene with fireworks that lit up and made a perfect nightlight. It also played "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" at the touch of a button.
There was a TV channel that had nothing but Princess bedtime stories on every night. One night when we returned from the park, we found Sharlee's blue teddy bear tucked in on top of the bed by the housekeeping staff. It was truly, truly a magical place to stay, and well worth the money.
Within walking distance of the hotel was a shopping ditrict called "Downtown Disney." It had tons of stores, everything from Lego to Build a Bear and more. Our first night there we ate a Rainforest Cafe, which none of us had ever done. Everyone loved it except the baby, who was not a fan of the moving animals or the fake thunderstorms.
   Walt Disney called his theme park the "happiest place on Earth" and I have to agree with him on that one. It's been a long time since I could say that I was completely happy from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment I closed them. Our time at the park was everything I hoped it would be and more. There was a moment, riding the Tomorrowland Rockets with my baby, that I had to just close my eyes and breathe. Flying high above the park on a beautiful California afternoon, I was as blissfully happy as I have ever been in my life. I kept reminding myself that this was one of those days I would remember for the rest of my life. We are totally sold on the whole Disney experience. The park was clean, the food was delicious, and the lines were short. Oh, and people totally walked off and left their empty strollers unattended. Gift shop bags, diaper bags, cameras...it didn't matter. They left it all right there with their strollers while they went off to ride with their kids! Completely blew our minds, but in a few hours we were doing it too. I am happy to say that nothing was stolen! All in all, we had the trip of a lifetime, even before we got to the AFV taping. Life is good and we are grateful!

This is a test!

Why is it that every time I make a decision something immediately happens to test my resolve? After the most recent of many conversations about my barrel horses, my husband/coach and I decided that I needed to call in reinforcements. However, we also decided that before I hired someone to help me with my horse, he'd better be in shape. I can't see me learning a whole lot if my noble steed is panting like a dying pony after 15 minutes of exercise. So we made a commitment, with a spit shake and pinky swear that I would ride him every day for a month before calling in outside help.

Naturally, no sooner had we made the decision and said it out loud, the temperature began to drop. Today was day 3, and I can't tell you how much "want to" it took to go outside where it was sleeting and cold and work two horses instead of lying on the couch in front of a fire. I guess I'm just a crackhead. All it takes is that little tiny voice in the back of my mind to whisper, "One day it will all be worth it" and I'm out the door.

I have to say that I'm really glad I did go ride, however. Both of my horses did great. Naturally, one of my young horses made the best run he's ever made, since we were alone and no one was there to see it. Doesn't it always happen that way? After I was done riding, and was waiting on my husband to bring the feed something really cool happened. I have to admit that although my hands and ears were cold, I had some really peaceful moments sitting there on my horse listening to the sleet fall on top of the arena. It was dark, it was quiet, and I was alone with my horses. Color this girl happy, happy, happy.

Today we are off to the barrel race in the snow for the second time this year. Stupid, lying groundhog! This is not an early spring. This is 70 degrees one day and 25 the next. I can't believe we aren't all on death's doorstep with the sinus issues in our family. I am ready for some sunshine, and I promise not to complain about the heat this summer. Okay, not very much.

PS - It's also worth noting that we are hauling a trailer today that lacks a dressing room door. We traded for a four horse trailer, and the door had been pinned back by the previous owner, caught be the wind, and bent all to heck. When my husband tried to fix it, naturally it fell apart. Apparently there isn't much call for replacement dressing room doors, so we haven't had any luck finding one close by or readily available. There was a time in my life when I wouldn't be caught dead in a rig missing a trailer door. As it is now, I'm thankful for a husband that will help me get to the barrel race, horses to ride, and something to go in, even if I do imagine that I hear the theme from "Sanford and Son" every once in awhile. Plus, in light of recent events in my life, it's really, really hard for us to have a bad day!