ESPN is good for your marriage

Conversation at our house while watching Pardon the Interruption:

Nate: I'm not complaining, but I still can't believe you like this show.

Me: Why? It's entertaining. I think I'd be friends with both of them in real life.

Nate: Of course you do.

Me: I'm serious. I think me and Tony would really hit it off.

Nate: I'm gonna hate myself for this...but what on earth do you think y'all would have in common?

Me: Froyo. duh.

Nate: ??????????? I'm sorry, what?

Me: I'd totally take him on a froyo date. I'm so curious about what toppings he would pick. I know he'd have killer combinations and great life stories about how he came up with them.

Nate: *falls down on the floor laughing*

Me: I'm not sure what's funny. But consider yourself un-invited to our date. James Earl Jones and John Stamos will be there too. Your loss bro.

Nate: What is froyo anyway?

*****************************************************

WHAT?!?!!?!?

Me: Sweet baby Jesus, please tell me you are kidding.

Nate: I've never had it. It's just like ice cream, right?

Me: *stunned silence*

And that is how I learned that the man I've been with for almost 13 years, has never had frozen yogurt. I know. I KNOW. You are as shocked as I am. Bless his deprived little heart. Don't worry, I'm remedying the situation tonight. Because I'm the best wife ever. And, oh right, Valentine's day. And I need a test subject so I don't disappoint Tony one day.

So ladies, ESPN. Watch it. You'll be surprised what you learn about your spouse. All these years and the kid still keeps me on my toes.

Always,

L

Inspiration

Hey blog friends.

I'd like to make some valiant attempt to excuse my absence from my little corner of the internet, but I've got nothing but questions...HOW is it already October...I mean, almost November? The days are long but the weeks sure are short, huh?

But enough about that. A lot has changed since I was here last. We are expecting our first baby this May. The timing is all His, and so is the glory. I just turned 27 and I'd like to say I've mastered the art of being still, and patiently waiting on Him...but I'm still a major work in progress. He is ever faithful though, and I know I'm held extra close to His heart. He whispers, "I know, my child. I hear you. But I have so many things planned for you, and My timing, well, it's infallible." Thankful for His provision. Grateful for this tiny, and every growing blessing that we spent so many years praying for. Humbled. Oh, so humbled, by the love and support we've received so far. Each day that we stay pregnant, each hour He calms my anxiety, each minute we move closer to becoming parents...I am joyful.

It seems like lately all I've done is ask people for prayer. For me, for Nathan, for this baby. I don't know that all of you out there reading this are the praying kind, or religious, but I know personally the power that comes when we call upon our Heavenly Father. Or send good thoughts. Or pause in silence for someone or something. And even though I feel like I've been given so much more prayer than I deserve, I'm going to ask for some more. Not for this momma to be, but for another mom. A fantastic one. Who has a gorgeous 3 month old baby girl named Leighton, who is the spitting image of her mother; and an incredible husband named Eric, who loves her like you wouldn't believe. This mom is 27 and very recently found out that the cancer we all celebrated her defeating, has returned. Her name is Lauren Barnhart Reed, but to me she's always been just, Barnhart. She is fierce in all aspects of her life. She is thoughtful, and generous, and some of my very favorite memories from college and beyond are with her by my side. She's honest, that one. And her honesty, and bravery, are qualities I've always admired. Oh, and her friendship? I cherish it as one of my life's greatest gifts.

She has a road ahead of her. One paved with uncertainty and pebbled with the unknown. But she is a fighter, and I've never believed in someone's capabilities (no matter the trial) as much as I do hers. Her friendship means the world to me, and I only hope I've brought half the joy and laughter to her, that she has to me. Will you do me a favor? One blogger to another? Will you pray for her, in whatever way you are lead? Be it for peace, for strength, for hope. Any positive thoughts, or energy you can send, do it. Please. You can leave them in comments here, and I'll send them her way, or just whisper them right where you sit. I'll be forever in your debt.

If you'd like more information on her diagnosis, her family and how else you can help, I've included links below to her Facebook page. Thank you, from every corner of my heart, for joining me in lifting her up. I truly believe our God is bigger, and there is complete healing in His name.

"But as for me, I will always have HOPE." Pslam 71:14

Love for Lauren Reed Facebook Page

Love for Lauren Barnhart Reed | Medical Expenses - YouCaring.com

Always,

L

Warning: Full blown rant ahead

If you get your feelings hurt easily, can't take a little language, have no sense of humor or can't take sarcasm for what it is, you should just come back here on on another day. Mkay? You've been warned. Proceed with wine caution.

I love kids. Don't believe me? Take a look at any/all of my social media and browse the 900+ pics I've posted of my niece/nephews. See? It's borderline creepy, I know. For clarification, I also enjoy talking to my friends who have kids, and  listening to their parenting stories. I always try to be as encouraging as possible during these conversations, because raising a child is easily the MOST overwhelmingly difficult (albeit, rewarding) job, ever. Yes, *surprise* I do understand that, even though I haven't been blessed with any children of my own (yet).

Here's my issue...Sometimes, even without kids, we have terrible/awful, no good, very bad days. When this happens, one of your "non child(ren) having" friends may come to you with the need to decompress & lean on you for support. During said conversations, it is likely that these friends (without kids) will mention that they're tired, or stressed out, or feel like they're drowning or whatever. The bottom line is this: they/we are seeking affirmation and reassurance about our current set of circumstances from someone we love/trust/respect. So, when you flippantly disregard our feelings/emotions with phrases like "oh you have NO IDEA what any sort of stress really feels like, just wait until...insert "one-upping", over shadowing parent moment here, it makes me want to punch you.

 Here's why: We just talked about your kid, their interests, idiosyncrasies, dislikes, pooping schedule for like, an hour. I listened and was genuinely interested! Why? because I care about YOU and YOUR life and I love your kids because they are part of you. So, when it's my turn to speak, and you blow me off like I'm naive and silly for having/ feeling a certain way? I secretly want to throw a drink in your face. Why? Because I am in NO WAY trying to "out tired", "exhaust", "stress" you, or make any comparison about which of us has it worse! I'm just telling you about the current hardships/challenges in my life. All I'm after is a little compassion and encouragement...the same things I just blindly offered you.

I know your role as a parent isn't easy! But I guess my questions is this...since when does having children give you a free pass to be rude and or a colossal bitch? Because those "you don't know"/"I know more about" statements are two fold obnoxious. One? You don't have to live my life, so you aren't any more equipped to "know" how I'm feeling than I am to know what it's like to be in your shoes. The difference in this scenario is that I'm TRYING. Because, spoiler alert: I really couldn't care less about your child's shit schedule. And secondly? Some of us are struggling to make our own families. So, when you pop off about how "easy" we have it, or how little we "understand" (about the stupidest things like being tired), you're pouring salt into (what is for some) an extremely painful, open wound. It might not be intentional, but your overly-entitled, dismissive attitude is irritating...and on behalf of childless couples and basically the entire human population, I just thought you should know. I may not be a parent, but here's a solid little piece of advice, THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. We all need to try and do a little more building each other up, and a lot less tit for tat, "my life is far more trying than yours", martyr type, pissing-contest-comparisons. We should also eat more froyo, but that's a blog post for a different day.

End rant.

Well, I don't know about you, peaches, but I feel a lot better.

Always,
L

PS: this obviously isn't directed at all parents...but the flippantly dismissive attitude is something that has personally happened to me on MORE than one occasion; and I just needed to get it off my chest. Feel free to bring on the hater-ade. I realize this is far bitchier than my normal posts. Blame it on shark week.

PSS: For those of you on either side of this rant, that listen to and encourage your friends, even if their life is in a completely different place than yours? THANK YOU. You are a freaking rock star and are so appreciated.

PSSS: To all the of non parents out there, remember to reach out and initiate conversations and maintain friendships with the ones in your life that do have kids/families. Go the extra mile to remind them how awesome they are! And by all means, feel free to share this post with the ones who may be guilty of the above offense and don't realize it. I give you full authority to direct the heat towards me.

PSSSS: thank you to a very sweet friend who encouraged me, promised to never talk to me about her kids' poop, and made me brave enough to repost this rant. You are my hero!

It's a public service, really.

Conversations this weekend:

FRIDAY

Nate: We forgot to take out the trash. Again.
Me: Oh well. There's always next week. Not a big deal.

SATURDAY

Nate: The dogs are almost out of dog food.
Me: Not worried. Toga and I just had Apple Jacks, So we're all set.

SUNDAY

Nate: You left the toilet lid open and I caught Lady drinking out of it. Again...
Me: It's really of no consequence to me if the disgusting dog gets more disgusting. Don't care.
Nate: I swear to God, you could literally fill BOOKS with the things you just don't give a sh*t about.
Me: That's a book I'd read.
Nate: *bangs head repeatedly against the counter*


Apparently he's unaware how this marriage thing works?


Always,

L

Self Indulgent

Who? Me? Guilty. But not in the way that you would think. Or maybe it is, I can't really say since I'm not inside your head. Mine is crazy enough for 6 lifetimes, thankyouverymuch.

So I've been doing this blogging thing religiously, occasionally, um. Pretty much whenever the mood strikes me. My track record has been below par at best, but I'm working on it. I have always loved to write, my follow through just sucks. I also over use commas like it is my life calling so I'm sorry about that, too. Except not really.  I started and abandoned HUNDREDS of journals when I was a kid. Seriously. I couldn't ever find my "grove" for lack of a lamer turn of phrase. But blogging is finally a format I feel comfortable enough to come back to again and again. Mostly because I've completely abandoned any shame I may have had in the past. That doesn't mean I put every detail of my life on blast for the world to read, but I'm not afraid to. My goal is brutal honesty in dealing with this being an adult business. How am I doing so far?

Spoiler alert: At some point, I even plan on writing a book. That's kind of where I'm going with all of this nonsense. I've actually started a memoir, and it's just as disturbingly distasteful as my blog. I'm at a point where I've got to decide which lines I'm willing to cross. Stories I'm willing to tell. Relationships I'm ok with exposing, for the good, the bad, the ugly. I'm curious to all you out there who take the time to read this, what kind of things would YOU like to read about? I'm obviously not a jack of all trades. I'd go so far as to say I've really got nothing figured out. But I can tell a kick ass exaggerated story. I've seen some pretty dark days. Really dark, actually. Some past, some present, and surely some down the road I don't even know about yet. I honestly believe they are behind every funny person you meet. Humor, at least mine, comes in turning life on it's head. Saying, "screw you" to circumstances I can't control and making it fun for everyone. My mom has always said, with every situation you have two choices. You can laugh, or you can cry. I think we all know where I stand on that.

So friendships, what things do you enjoy reading? For me, I like learning about life, through humor and sorted advice from other's experiences. Leave me a comment, or shoot me an email and tell me your guilty pleasures...you don't even have to keep it clean. I'm just that kind of girl. Seriously. Spill! By the way, I know there is more than one person in Russia out there stalking my blog! Internet high fives for the 735 page hits you've given me. And bonus zebra points to the blogger dashboard for giving me that golden piece of information. I'm such a creep.

Always,

L

P.S. Don't judge me too hard for thinking I can write a book anyone beside my mom would read. Wednesdays are my day of inflated self importance. Blame the calendar.

P.S.S. This is officially my 100th blog post. Where is my parade, Google?

Once upon a time...

I was a skinny bitch. And before you freak out, I'm not bragging. This is about to get all kinds of self deprecating so just sit tight, mkay? Here's the thing, I had absolutely zerooooo control over this fact. Hello? High school metabolism? Where the HELL did you run off to? Was it something I said drank? Oh, right. Beer. And wine. And Tequilla. Margaritas. Did I say beer? I did? Oh. So maybe it's not that big of a mystery after all...

Anyway, here's what I've decided after 26 years on the planet. My worth is not tied up in my waist size. And in a relatively new, healthly living, fitspiration, just KEEP RUNNING TILL YOUR THIN universe, this hasn't always been true. Maybe it's my age. Maybe it's finally realizing I really should work what my momma gave me. Whatever it is, I'm sitting here today, on the other side of "whose body is this?" and I'm happy to report that I'm just that: I am happy! With every extra pound and un-toned muscle I'm cursed lucky enough to call mine. Jesus still loves me, so why shouldn't I? He's got this sh*t way more figured out than I do!

Could I eat better, and go to the gym, run marathons (HA!) and do all those cool hipsters things (except for CrossFit, OMG don't even get me started...), sure. And some days, weeks, I do. But that doesn't make me a better person. It doesn't even always make me happy. Other days, like today,  I already have a 12 pack in the fridge. I'm anxiously awaiting for the Rangers game to start and for my hunka-hubby-worker-drone to get his butt to the homestead so we can enjoy a few together. And guess what? THAT'S. O-K.

I went to work today. My dogs have been fed/played with. I put some laundry in the dryer (for the fourth time. Stop judging me). And if I'm being completely honest, the LAST thing I am thinking about is getting bikini ready. I.just.don't.CARE.

I'm not turning my nose up at all you health conscious, clean eating, do gooders out there. Do you boo boo. Follow your arrow wherever it points. Do I think some days you are lying? Yes huh. No one likes not eating ice cream. Don't even try to convince me otherwise. I don't believe in Scientology either. But that's really neither here nor there. Except that both concepts seem completely outrageous.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: Love yourself. Whether you're in a newly fit body, one that's sporting an exaggerated body part (side eyes to my gigantic ass that did NOT exist before 2009),  or growing a new person (here's looking at you baby mommas!), it's YOUR body. And it's just that. A body. You are a SOUL. Although you may try, you can't dictate the vessel you were given when you arrived in the world. We can control what we do with it. Me? I choose to write rambly* blogs with seemingly no direction as I try to figure out what my life is about. I choose to cuddle my baby nugget niece/nephews. I choose to eat popsicles for breakfast more often than I should, and stay up way too late making memories** with my best friend. And I'm good with that. Kapeesh?

Let's make a deal. You be you, and I'll be me. And if that looks like sit ups and kettle bells at 5 am, terrific! And if it looks like, cookies for dinner...we are probably already best friends. Let's STOP trying to be each other, and work on being the best version of ourselves. Stop with the never ending comparisons and start loving being YOU. Because sugar tits? I already think you're the bomb diggity. 

Happy Tuesday my sweets!

Always,

L

*spell check tried to tell me this isn't a word. That skank has obviously never been to my blog before. Read a book blogger, this is happening.

**Sex. Sorry mom!

And then I won the lottery

Yes, you read that right. But if you're familiar with this blog, you know I have a tendency to exaggerate. Like that time I said we robbed a bank (which I completely stand by) except that we really just bought a house.

I guess I should back up a little. I've mentioned it in passing, but back in November I got super sick and found myself in the hospital for two.whole.weeks. Oh right, and did I mention I was hospitalized on THANKSGIVING, the holy day of FOOD and wasn't allowed to eat. Or drink. Or anything? Let me just tell you, it was a whole new fresh kind of hell. And I was, um, intolerable? Bless my husband's sweet little heart. He actually snuck me a tiny TINY piece of dark chocolate just to get me to shut up for a minute. That's love y'all.

Anyway, fast forward to about a month ago. We have an agent through Aflac that handles our secondary insurance policies. He comes by once a year, we resign the same paper for our policies, he brings donuts, everyone wins. Here's where things get exciting. Me, being the fab grown up (*snort*) that I am, completely forgot I even took out a policy with them. It was like a billion (read 3) years ago, the payments come out of my check before I ever see it, so it kind of just slipped my mind. I can hear you laughing at me. Hush.

Like I was saying, I only forgot about it until donut man Aflac guy showed up. We got to chatting and I told him about my little illness escapade, which was when he not-so-subtly reminded me about my policy. And that they are for temporary disability, and hospital stays. This is the point of the post where I SHAMELESSLY promote getting on board with a secondary insurance policy. Ya'll? Their commercials are not, I repeat, NOT a joke. The paper work for the claims were all of 3 pages, and both my policies paid out. To me. IN CASH. To the tune of: I now owe not one dime for any of my 900 hospital bills, have enough money left over to buy a Louis Vuitton purse (if I was in to that, but I'm totally not), a year's supply of popsicles (totally more my style), AND still put some in my savings account because blah I'm-married-to-a-responsible-wannabe-grown-up-who-won't-just-let-me-piss-it-all-away. RUDE.

Moral of the story? A magical duck showed up and gave me a bag of money all because my colon hates me and I had to miss Thanksgiving. Like a friggin adult version of the tooth fairy. Or something like that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some serious bomb pop vs. lick a color frozen treat decisions to make.

Happy Thursday friendships!

Always,

L