Hello again!

 After a short break that turned into an extended break, I am back! (Yes, again. To those of you who are bothered by this fact, why are you reading this?) As any mother on the planet understands, life gets in the way of the things I want to do for myself some days. We have had a wonderful summer with our girls, so much so that we didn't want it to end. So...after many long conversations, hours of research, thought, and prayer...we have decided to homeschool our children this year. Let the criticism begin...now! Why? Because deep down, it's what we all long for. MORE judgement and criticism from family, friends, and total strangers!
  I'm not going to defend my decision, simply because, well...I don't have to. I've heard all the arguments for and against. I've read brilliantly written essays full of fancy words and religious convictions, penned by far more gifted writers than myself. My husband and my God are on board with me; homeschooling is legal in my state, and the truth is, that's all that's necessary.
  We all know that people enjoy gossip, particularly if it's juicy and hurtful to other people. No one ever really bothers to check the facts, because the bad stuff is easier to believe. So for that crowd (and you know who you are) I'm about to rain on your parade. My children loved the public school they attended from Kindergarten to second grade. They adored their teachers, they made excellent grades, and they weren't victims of bullying. (Although I must say, with the massive ad campaigns that are out there, my kids are convinced that if another kid so much as looks at someone sideways, they are a "bully." Can we say overkill? I don't mean to sound insensitive at all, but that term has been overused to the point that it doesn't mean anything close to what it meant when we were kids.)
  So there you go. There's no juicy backstory or hurt feelings to gossip about. My decision wasn't based on the fact that I disliked pubic school...it was simply based on the fact that I love my kids and for now, homeschool fits our lifestyle better than public.
  Our kids participate in barrel racing events at least once a week for most of the year. I participate in them that much or more, both in and out of state. We spend precious time together traveling to and from those events as a family. I found out last year, through a not so lovely letter from the state, that my straight A students had missed too many days due to our travels. Looking at the schedule we have planned for this year, they would have been at their maximum allowed absences before Christmas!
  Part of my job as a parent is to create people who will become productive members of society. An important part of that is teaching them that setting goals and achieving them requires hard work, time, and sacrifice. We are each granted a limited number of trips around the sun. My hope is that by giving my children a strong moral background and good time management skills, I can teach them to maximize every single day they are given. My happiest days are those at the end of which I fall into bed, utterly exhausted, and think, "Yep, I squeezed every single useful second I had out of this day. I accomplished everything I wanted to today." I truly hope that my girls will feel the same way.
  So here's to new adventures! I get the feeling I'm about to have a lot more blog material to share...

School's Back In!

I've been on a bit of a digital hiatus the last few days, for the most glorious of reasons. I've been making amazing childhood memories with my family at Disney World. I visited that magical place the first time as a third grader, and I still remember how I felt the first time I rounded the corner onto Main Street and saw Cinderella's Castle. There is nothing more fun than watching my children's faces light up just like mine did so long ago.

We drove to Disney for the first time. Traveling 11 hours with three small children and one grandmother gave our trip a bit of a "National Lampoon's Vacation" feel. We played, laughed, colored, slept, and sang our way to Disney World and back.

We were lucky enough to take my mother in law with us. At the tender age of 85, she wore her "First Visit" button proudly on her jacket and did a fine job keeping up with all of us for four days. As tired and sore as I was after walking that far on concrete, I know she had to be, too. Naturally, she never complained once.

Anyone who has ever visited a Disney park can appreciate the term "Disney tired." This is a phenomenon that affects children who have finally come to the end of their super-sized adrenaline rush and crashed. This normally happens just after the fireworks and right before the park closes. Nine out of ten children in strollers leaving the park are asleep. My kids usually made it back to the room, then fell into a deep sleep that somewhat resembled a coma. Sheridan, who generally impersonates a grizzly bear in her sleep, flounces and flops and rolls around in the bed, which is why no one wants to sleep with her. Last night I tucked her in, already asleep, and this morning the only thing that had changed was the position of her arms.

On another note, my kids did actually learn a lesson during this trip. They learned how much fun it is to make someone else happy, especially when that someone is a child. After begging us for balloons every day at the park, my husband finally gave in. I have to admit that although they were ridiculously expensive, Disney does make some industrial strength balloons. They still looked perfect a day later. 

As we began to load the car the next morning, it quickly became apparent that someone was about to get whacked in the face for eleven hours by balloons, in addition to their limiting the visibility of the person driving in a most annoying way. Quickly we devised a plan. "Why don't you share your balloons with a child who is just getting here? That way, we can recycle them!" I held my breath, hoping I had sold them on the idea. They thought for a moment, then smiled at us and practically ran to the lobby. Sure enough, there were people milling around everywhere, struggling with suitcases and waiting in long lines to check in.

Picking out the first kid they saw, they all ran up to her, scared the life out of her, and offered their balloons. Watching those kids' faces light up was the best feeling ever. The parents' faces lit up too, but I suspect it was because their kid just got something at Disney for free. 

The highlight of the trip had to be on our last night, when Daddy took his littlest princess for one last ride on the carousel. He was all caught up in the moment, breathing in the scent of pure happiness. And then the bell on the carousel rang. Without a moment's hesitation, my three year old yells, "School's back in, suckers!" Ah, yes. Such a little lady. 

What I Didn't Know Before I Was Married

In the same vein as my post on the things I didn't know before I was a parent, I want to share something important that I didn't know before I got married. First, let's talk about what I did know. This shouldn't take very long. Basically, everything I knew about marriage I learned by watching my parents. They had a long, loving marriage, keeping their vows and working at it until death parted them. I've only recently come to really understand what a blessing that was. For those who have not been fortunate enough to have such an example set for you, I am truly sorry. I can see how difficult it would be to cultivate a long and healthy marriage if you haven't had someone model that for you.
I knew that I wanted a marriage, not just a wedding. Honestly, the process of planning my wedding without my mother was completely overwhelming. I made each and every decision alone, with very little input from anyone else. As a result, my wedding was not the social event of the season. It wasn't big or grandiose, and there was no amazing party afterward. It was "simple" according to one guest, who actually meant that as a compliment, and it was completely about us.
When I asked Kirk what kind of wedding he had in mind, he just said one that would make me his wife. I have to admit that he did ask me to wait until December. He saw a solid red, white fur trimmed wedding gown in a store window and literally begged me to wear it. I told him I had waited all my life to wear the big white dress, and by golly I was going to wear it!
I loved my wedding gown, and I felt like a princess in it. Looking back on it now, my mother would absolutely have been on his side. She loved me in red, and forced me to wear it as often as she could. And truthfully, I wish I had done it simply to honor my husband's wishes. So often I see brides busily planning "their" day, with absolutely no regard for their fiance's opinion. Hey girls, he's getting married, too. While I understand how long you have been planning that day, show your man some real love and respect by including him in the planning. He's thought about that day, too, whether he admits it or not. Oh, and keep in mind that on your wedding day, you will be the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. If that doesn't make you smile, there's something wrong with you.
So back to the original reason for this post. I didn't know that when I became a wife, I also became a friend, lover, and complete support system. I didn't realize that I needed to become a one woman cheerleading squad - that it was my job to make my husband feel smart, strong, and ready to take on the world. The most important thing I didn't yet understand as a newlywed was my husband's need for my approval. That's right, I knew that he loved me, that he was attracted to me, that he wanted to spend his life with me. But I honestly had no idea just how much weight my opinion and approval carried with him. Sounds silly, doesn't it? Shouldn't you just automatically know something like that? Perhaps, but I admit that I didn't.
One day, during a minor disagreement (the only kind we've ever had) he looked me in the eye and said something along the lines of, "Don't you know that I don't care what anyone thinks but you? That you're the only one I care about impressing?" Well, uh...no. I didn't know that. Frankly it had never occurred to me until he put it just that way. So here's my point: I didn't realize and completely grasp just how much my approval meant to this wonderful man I married. I had thoughtlessly hurt the person I loved most in the world by being too critical, by speaking too harshly. Yep, I felt pretty small.
Fortunately for me, my husband is also a very forgiving person. He overlooks me at some point pretty much every day. It's one of many ways he shows me that he loves me. I try really hard to be loving and supportive, and to withhold criticism or harsh words. That's one of the ways I show him my love. That and the occasional home cooked meal. You know, the whole "way to a man's heart" thing.
So ladies, realize the power that you have, and use it for good. Greet that man when he gets home like the dog would. Well, except for the whole face licking thing. Unless you're into that...but that's a subject for a completely different sort of post!

Thank You

Hello and welcome to everyone who is visiting my blog for the first time. I am truly humbled by the fact that so many people have read something that I wrote. I am a Southern woman, a veterinarian, a wife, and most importantly the mother of three precious girls. I started this blog mainly because I needed to learn to laugh at myself. I lost my own mother at 18 years old, so I wanted to be sure that my girls had access to what was going on in my mind while they were growing up. And they are funny, really funny, so I thought that sharing my stories might give someone a laugh who really needed it. If you enjoy what you find here, I have collected several of my stories and put them into my first book, which can be purchased at Amazon.com or right here on my blog. Thank you again for reading!

Ten Things I Didn't Know Before I was a Parent

It's that time of year. Everyone is sharing their resolutions with the world. I have my own, some of which are fit for public consumption. I have fallen off the wagon, so to speak, with my half marathon training in the last week. However, rather than sit around and beat myself up for being a lazy slob, I'm just going to start over again tomorrow morning. Week 9 of 13, here I come. So there you go. My resolution is to finish the MS River Half Marathon without dying. Good thing it isn't tomorrow.

One of my favorite country songs talks about being able to write a letter to your younger self. Sure, I'd like to reassure my teenage self that I would eventually meet the most fantastic man God ever created and marry him. But more importantly, I'd like to fill myself in on the nuances of parenting three young girls. There are just so many things that you don't even know you don't know until you are a parent, and frankly, then it's too late.

1. So let's begin at the beginning. It's worth pointing out that pregnancy is one of those decisions that you can't unmake. In the amazing age of technology, everyone knows that nothing is ever truly "deleted." You can change your mind about pretty much anything, except becoming a parent. Once you are on this ship, you are on it, and you'd better hang on and try to enjoy the ride. One of my dad's favorite expressions is "accidents cause people." Be careful, be very careful. And keep in mind that just because you plan to have "a" baby doesn't mean that is what will happen. You just might get two.

2. When you become a mother, you will forever surrender your right to pee in peace. If you are not accompanied by at least one short person each and every time you enter the bathroom, you will be forced to listen to them bang on the door. This also applies to the shower. My three year old daughter's bladder is inexplicably linked to the shower head in my bathroom. All I have to do is step into the shower, turn on the water, and wait for her to show up to use the toilet.

3. If you have more than one child (and sometimes even if you don't) you WILL give birth to someone who acts just like you. This person will also exhibit each and every trait that you do not like about yourself. This is your "Mini Me," also known as the child you will have the most difficulty parenting. This precious gift from God will be able to get on your last nerve and bounce up and down at a moment's notice. Trust me on this one.

4. You will deliver your modesty along with your baby. An entire hospital staff will see you in your most vulnerable, least attractive state. Your "private" parts will become quite public, and that's if you have a routine delivery. More complicated deliveries require even more access to your nether regions. If you are lucky enough to experience the joy of IV magnesium, you will also learn what it is like to be in a state that prevents you from being able to bathe yourself. Before I had a pregnancy with complications, I never would have believed that there would come a day prior to my nursing home days when I would need another person to attend to my personal hygiene. At least I was too high to experience the full humiliation of that experience. It blows my mind that anyone who has ever given birth can be apprehensive about a trip to the gynecologist. Hey, eighteen year old me, this yearly exam will become nothing more than a minor annoyance after you are a mom!

5. When you have a baby in the house, every single item you own will become a potential choking hazard. You will size everything up like a pawn store owner, checking size, weight, toxicity. Then you will carefully weigh the risks against the chance that removal of said item will trigger a full blown crying fit. If the child in question is NOT your first, you will allow the child to keep the item at all costs.

6. Any and all ideas you have regarding neatness, cleanliness, and order should be thrown out with the first dirty diaper. No matter how neat your house starts out in the morning, if you have multiple small children your home will come to resemble a poorly run daycare in a matter of moments. Toy makers are evil, sadistic people. They will package toys in such a way that you can't possibly remove them from the package in one piece. They dream about you, sitting there frantically trying to get that freaking fairy out of the box while a short person screams, "Open it! Open it!"

7. Siblings fight, all day every day. This was news to me, an only child with cousins who lived nearby. They fight just to fight. It doesn't even have to be over anything in particular, it's just a sport they partake in. Learn to accept this, and let go of your need to resolve the dispute. Remind them that settling out of mom's court is a distinct advantage. If all else fails, have fun with the group. Forced hugs and kisses are awesome, especially between sisters.

8. Your children will suck your brain out of your ear at night, little by little. Once an adult with a fully functional brain and an amazing memory, your children will reduce you to the human equivalent of Jello. You will forget why you walked into a room, where you left your phone, keys, glasses, sanity...

9. Nothing is sweeter than watching your children be kind to each other. Yes, it happens from time to time. Just when you think the little twerps will never make it to eighteen without killing each other, they will do or say something incredibly sweet and you will congratulate yourself on being such an awesome parent.

10. Parenting is the hardest, most exhausting, most mentally and physically draining task you will ever take on. It doesn't end when your kid turns 18 or even 21. That little pink line means you have signed up to have a piece of your heart walk around outside your body until you die. It means that you will never, ever make another decision without considering someone else first. It's pretty overwhelming when you think about it. It's also completely worth it.

Hooray for April!

I have lots of new material to blog about, and a couple of posts that are rattling around in my brain driving me crazy. None of that matters today, because today my friend April DeLoach got the news she has been waiting for. Not just any news, but THE news. Her leukemia is in remission! Her bone marrow biopsy showed NO cancer cells, and no evidence of recurrence. Her blood cell counts are continuing to rise.
With the help of her donor, amazing oncologist, and fabulous nurses, she is getting to spend the holidays at home with her children, without the word leukemia hanging over her head. Literally thousands of prayers have gone up for this woman. Several hundred of them were mine. Through her beautiful, eloquent essays, she has shared her journey with the world. That journey had special significance for me, because it allowed me to access the thoughts that must have been going through my own mother's mind during her battle with cancer.
So today's post isn't filled with silly stories or witty observations. It's filled with praises for the one who is the reason for the season. April's life has been spared, her body rid of the monster we call cancer. If that isn't a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

The Half Marathon That Wasn't

"Oh, you signed up for the St. Jude half? I guarantee it will fall on the coldest day of the year," my actual marathon runner friend's husband informed me several months ago. His tone was decisive and full of "I know what I'm talking about." Apparently I should have listened to him, although by that point it was too late. We were already signed up and running 6 miles at a time. Coldest day of the year? I didn't like how that sounded. Oh well, we'll just dress in layers and it will be fine, or so I thought.
Training for a half marathon was difficult. Really difficult. When a friend told me that it would get sort of "intense" as it got closer to race time, I didn't really know what he meant. Consider me educated. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be running 10 miles outside at 6:00 AM on a very cold, rainy Saturday just to prepare for a race, I would have asked them what they were smoking. Add to that the fact that my husband, mister "I hate to run" was doing it with me, and I would have told you that the odds of us winning the lottery were better. But we did it, and we didn't pass out, catch on fire, or have anything else horrible happen to us.
So there we were, ready to take on those 13.1 miles and kick their collective asses. (Okay, fine, we were ready to line up, start running, and hope we survived until we could stagger across the finish line.) I was already planning to be in Memphis for a barrel race that weekend, so we headed out early Friday morning, headed to get the horses bedded down, pick up our race packets, and rush back to make my two barrel runs that night. And then the ice storm hit.
Since there was no race day packet pick up, we had to drive to downtown Memphis on Friday afternoon. We chipped the ice off the parking payment box, paid $10 to park, and headed into the expo to pick up our race bib numbers. The sidewalk was basically a solid sheet of ice, which made me wonder if I was going to even make it to pick up my number without busting my butt.
After ambling up the sidewalk like senior citizens for what seemed like miles, we made it inside. As you can imagine, the expo was full of stick figures in tight running pants, selling everything you can think of except an extra pair of lungs. My favorite shirt that I should have purchased but didn't said, "Please God let there be someone behind me to read this" on the back. I also loved the one with a sweating cartoon turtle that said, "I run. I am slow. Get over it." The expo was also full of smiling volunteers who were busy assuring us that the race was not about to be cancelled.
Looking at the weather report on my phone, I have to admit that I wasn't thrilled about the idea of running 13.1 miles in 19 degree weather. And just for fun, they were also predicting snow. Excellent. Oh, well, we had spent all this time getting ready, and my husband informed me that he didn't care how cold it was, if the gun went off he was going to be running that race.
I was still trying to figure out exactly how many layers I would need to wear to keep from freezing to death when the text message came. The race was cancelled. Cancelled. As in not going to happen. It took me several seconds to wrap my brain around the concept.
All.That.Work. No race, no finish line, no amazing sense of satisfaction and pride in myself for finishing. No bucket list item crossed off. Just another morning. What a letdown. Okay fine, a letdown and a tiny bit of relief. Have I mentioned that I wasn't looking forward to running in 19 degree weather?
So that was it. The story of the half marathon that wasn't. Yes, I'm still glad I trained for it. Yes, we are going to find another one. And no, I have no desire to run a full marathon. Yet.