Journal FREAK!

So if you know me at all, you'll know that I am the QUEEN of journals. It's getting kind of out of control too. I can count at least 5 right now off the top of my head that I have going on...

Wait, no...

Make that 6.

Unless, of course, you count this blog as another type of "journal." Then that would put me at 7.

I know, right?

Ridiculous.

Here's the proof...

I'm also missing my "mission" journal from this pile as well... So never mind. That puts me at 8, including the blog. Freak.

And guess what?

I just added TWO MORE to the immense KFun Journal Library.

I'm telling you. I'm obsessed. But I am excited about the two new ones I just bought because they are QUICK and EASY to fill out. I literally only have a couple lines to write in before I am forced to stop due to lack of space. That is, unless I wanted to cross over into the next year's designated "spot."

Ugh! And who would want to write outside the lines?? Who does that??  Definitely not this O.C.D chick, that's for sure!

Anyway, I'm hoping I stay pretty consistent with this and write EVERYDAY for the next 5 years. If I do, they'll be GREAT memory books!

Do any of you all journal on a regular basis, as well?

KFun See, KFun Do! A Wreath Making Extravaganza!

Y'all...

I went all Martha Stewart on you today.

I made a wreath.

Whoa.

I know, right?

A wreath?

Who does that?

And since when am I Ms. Suzy Home-maker?

Well, since I saw this post.

I follow Landee's blog and she does some of the coolest things. Confession: I've been blog stalking her for quite some time and drool over some of the absolute disgusting cuteness she creates. But that's it. I just look and drool. I never do it.

Totally lame.

Until now... I decided to give this one a shot.

I went to Hobby Lobby... spent about $20 on a straw wreath and ribbon (with everything on sale! Whoop!)...

and Voila!

My very own Landee-Creation! :-)

Obviously, it's not as fabulous as her original ones, but hey... this was my first go around.

I'll probably end up making more from her site as well... maybe even get all thematic on you guys and make holiday themed ones and stuff... because this really was easy.

And if I can't mess it up.... then nobody can. :-)

A Story to Share

So, if you follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed I've tweeted recently about some writing I've been doing. I wanted to clarify some on that for you. 

So here it is....

I am writing a book.

Yep.  Keep your panties on...you read that right.

A book...

With pages...

Real pages.

Pages that you can read and flip and turn and touch and wrinkle and bend and write on and burn or whatever else you do with book pages.

Weird, right?

Now.  Let me be real with you.  I am a writer.  I have always written and loved to write.  Even in high school when I was forced to write. Yeah, Yeah... I know. I never admitted to my friends, and bitched and complained, and bitched and complained some more, but I actually enjoyed writing essays throughout my school years.

BUT... and this is a huge "but"...  I have only written blog posts, essays, and articles before.  And I can count on three... maaaybe four hands the number of times my stuff has been published.  But never a book.  I mean, this has actual chapters in it already.

So weird.

This announcement to my bloggy friends is, if nothing else, something to hold me accountable.  I am notorious for starting stories, poems, articles and just letting them disappear into hard drive oblivion.  So, that is why I am sharing this information with you.  However... first and foremost, I want to make sure we all get one thing straight - this post is NOT a toot-my-own-horn-because-I-am-writing-a-book kind of announcement, because quite frankly, the idea of finishing an entire book absolutely terrifies me. Petrifies me. For a multitude of different reasons... the time involved, the risk of how bad it might suck once finished (which, let's be real, there's a great chance of it happening), etcetera.  However, if I've told people and posted it all over the inter webs, I have to at least finish it.... right? 

You, my dear friends, have no need to worry though.  The book is not about defecating oneself or how to raise a human being or even how to successfully sign your child up for a highly prestigious preschool without sacrificing other preschool mamas.  That kind of life changing information I share for free, right here on my blog.  You are welcome.

I'm not giving anything away, but it will be a semi-fiction book (that is totally not the correct term for it - sorry!) that is based on a true story. A type of historical fiction, I guess.  A story about a couple good friends of mine and an incredible "adventure" (we'll go ahead and call it that for lack of a better word) they went through.  I heard the story in it's entirety this past January/February straight from the horse's (or one of the involved horse's) mouth and felt a really, really strong urge to write it down. Over the spring and summer month's I sort of left the story hanging, but have sense felt the crazy weird urge to finish writing it now.

So I am.

I told my friend about it about a month and a half ago (yes.... eleven months after it happened. What can I say? I'm chicken sh*t and have a hard time following through), and her excitement was so contagious, it has helped motivate me to sit down daily to type it out.

Because this story needs to be told.  And for some reason, I am the person that God has planned to write it all down.  I just pray I do it justice. My friends involved in the story deserve it to be told and told well.

So here goes...

Whether it gets published or not and sold or not....this story needs to be recorded. So wish me luck over the next year trying to get this done. 

Little Girls in Pretty Boxes

I had another crazy mama encounter yesterday on this fun journey of parenthood, and I wanted to share it with you all. 

Every Monday, I take MK to gymnastics class. This fall, we enrolled her at The Little Gym for the school year's entire season. She was originally enrolled in the regular 3-4 year old, "Funny Bugs," class, but after a couple weeks, her instructor asked me if we'd like to move her to the smaller, "invite-only" advanced class. Her instructor felt she was strong enough to join two other little girls (4 and 5 years old) and would benefit from a smaller group. After internally leaping for proud-mama joy a long thought out process, I decided to let her give the advanced class a shot. 

Fast forward to yesterday. We've been in that class for a couple months now, and MK is doing great. There are only three of them enrolled in it and the girls get a lot of special attention and are learning at a quicker pace. At least I'm assuming it is quicker than they would have in the larger class she was in before. The other mom and I get along great and we both enjoy cheering each others kids on. It's a fun and relaxing environment and the kids have an absolute blast. MK is even heading to one of the girl's birthday parties at the end of next month.

Okay, so let me back up and share a little background with you about myself, just in case you didn't already know. This is going to sound like a blast from my personal "Look-At-Me" horn, but hang with me for a second... I'll get to my point eventually.

Gymnastics, cheerleading, and dance has only shaped my ENTIRE life. I started at a young age and from then on, it dictated who my friends were, how my personality evolved.... I was able tostalk meet my husband because of it, I moved across the country to work full time in the industry.... Blah, blah, blah.... You get the idea. I wouldn't be where and who I am today without it. So try to keep that in the back of your mind for in a minute... Now, back to the story at hand...  

Insert a new kiddo and her mama into the class. Correction: Insert a new kiddo and her stage mama into the class. A new little girl joined yesterday and I had little patience the pleasure of chatting with her mama, trying to get to know her and her daughter better. This is literally how the start of our convo went.

New Mama: The gymnastics coach invited her to join this advanced class, so we thought we'd give it a shot. (Glances at MK) This is the advanced class, right? 

Me: Yep, it is! And that's awesome. I think you'll like it. The kids have a blast! 

New Mama: How old is your daughter? She looks so little for this class. 

Me *bristling*: She's almost 3 and a half. She's definitely the youngest one.(Chuckles) And you'll be able to tell, but she enjoys it. 

New Mama: My daughter is 5 years old. So wait, does your daughter have her cartwheel yet? 

Me *fully bristled*: Well... no... not yet... But she is trying. She sort of just hops her hips over.(smiling sweetly) I'm assuming your's does? 

New Mama: Yeah. Actually, just yesterday she called me to watch her and she decided to throw a cartwheel with no hands. Which is called an aerial. 

(A slight pause should be taken here for the dramatic effect of these statements to fully sink in. Also, feel free to say, "Really, lady?" to yourself, at this point in time.)

Me *begrudgingly ignores the gym lingo educational comment*: Wow! Thats great!! She's super cute too. She definitely looks like she's built to be a gymnast... Her little legs are so muscular. New Mama: Well, I think so too. I was a gymnast and cheerleader once, so it only makes sense.

Alright. Time to pause...

So remember where I said, this type of activity has shaped my whole life? So basically.... If anyone deserves to be the "stage mom" here, I'm going to not so humbly state that it's me. And for the record, I am NOT one who likes to be upstaged. Up until this point in MK's minuscule gymnastics career, I had not uttered a word to anyone in that gym about my own personal experience and skills. Before I go on, let me say that I am by NO MEANS saying I was the most amazing gymnast/cheerleader/dancer out there. Far from it. But literally, I made a living from the damn things and put food on the table for my family.... So I may feel my skills were good enough to be just a little bit proud of. 

1997/1998 SGA Competitive Team

With my Tennessee cheer staff at our Training Week Awards Night, 2011

But something I definitely AM proud of is the fact that I have NOT jumped in letting it be known I was literally coached by a World Championship elite gymnast at one time in my life and that I used to coach competitive gymnastics myself. And I haven't once tried to tell MK's coach how to coach... Even though I probably could have and have wanted to a couple times.And you want to know why?? Because let's face it... This is The LITTLE Gym. (Warning: Double negatives ahead! I feel this grammatical sin is necessary to "hear" my southern accent that tends to come out more when fired up.) .... This ain't no Bela Karolyi Olympic training camp out on a sweltering Texas ranch where we wrap our little girls in pretty boxes trying to impress USA Gymnastics to get our kid on the national team.(If you're at all into gymnastics or figure skating, and caught the book/movie reference there, but haven't seen or read it... I highly recommend getting a copy!) This place is exactly what it's called. The Little Gym. A fun, small, and loving place where my baby girl, who is still only THREE YEARS OLD, can discover, play, and grow in a structured and FUN environment without any stress. With or WITHOUT a cartwheel... 

BUT... with all that being said, let's remember that I am naturally a highly, uber, monstrously, slightly competitive person. So the internal need to share my own story with this mama definitely came to a near breaking point. #BeingCompetitiveSucks. However, I refrained after sneaking in a short comment how I used to be a gymnast and cheerleader, as well. So one more little addition to this story, to just get the full effect...

New Mama has her other child, a son probably about 10 years old, unwillingly sitting next to her, watching his prodigal sister run a muck with my cartwheel-less MK work towards Olympic glory inside the gym walls.

Suddenly, as her daughter not-so-gracefully catapults herself gracefully leaps of the beam, New Mama throws up her arms in the sharpest and fastest "touchdown" motion I've ever seen. Picture fingers and hands creating the meanest karate chop motion you've ever seen straight up in the air.

Brother *rolls his eyes*: Whyyyyyy are you signaling to her? 

New Mama: To remind her to stay exactly like a pencil when she dismounts, in order to stick the landing. Then the arms up signal that her skill is finished. It like the period on the end of a sentence. Showing she's done. The judges need to see that.

Y'all, I can't even stand it! I'm literally dying all over again as I type this, so I'm going to end there. However, you can imagine how the rest of the Olympic training practice went. I am all about encouraging our kids to do their best and join competitive sports if they're so inclined, and more often than I'd like to publicly admit, I have to restrain my inner-stage-mama from getting out of control.... but let's get real... IT'S THE LITTLE GYM!!

So there it is. I am now accepting all well-wishes and prayers for both my sanity and patience throughout the duration of this gym season.

(And for the record: by the time this posted... MK got her cartwheel. Boom.)

The Day I Didn't Walk of Defecate Myself

Well...it's been a week or so and I've been slacking on the updates but I'm here now to let y'all know that running long distances is probably not the best idea I've ever had. Seriously. I think a part of me died the day of my first Half Marathon. That part of me was from the waste down. Not kidding.... I left Atlanta with what I think were two broken knees, a sprained ankle, and a bum hip. I felt like I was eighty six years old when I finally finished. (Okay, okay - I didn't really injure anything, but you SURE AS HELL could have fooled me in the few post-race hours.)

Freezing pre-race at 7am start!

Let's start with a re-cap of my goals for this race. (You can always read my pre-race blog here too!) My mental notes throughout the race were as follows:

"Do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES crap yourself."

I know, this isn't a very lady-like topic, but this is the real deal and it needs to be discussed. Just in case you aren't into endurance type sports - let me give you a heads up. People WILLINGLY defecate themselves and marinade in their feces all the time during these things. NO JOKE HERE. They really do! And I, being a modest, I-will-break-your-legs-if-you-so-much-as-THINK-of-beating-me competitive type of person, was willing to lose a to the obnoxiously skinny yet sort of weirdly muscular Kenyan if I needed to "drop a load," if you will. I was okay with it, believe it or not. I was NOT okay however, with being unsanitary during this race....I was already going to be sweaty, and that's gross enough. Task completed. No bodily waste left my body during those couple hours.

"Do NOT walk."

Mission accomplished. Can I get a "Whoop Whoop?" (whoop! whoop!) Alright, I may have "slowed down" through two of the water/feed stations (yes, a "feed" station....like we were cattle or something. Oh, and I was herded into Corral G at the start. For real. We started in CORRALS. Like I said - cattle.), but I had done my mascara and makeup that morning and there was no way I planned on sloshing Gatorade all up my face while trying to imbibe the oh-so-needed drink and risk ruining what little bit I still had left on my face. Some things are just not worth it.

"Tumble over the finish line."

Mission NOT accomplished. BOO! There were a bunch of peeps in my way or I TOTALLY would have done at least a cartwheel. I was, and still am, annoyed. Let's not talk about it.

Some people just couldn't hang long enough to see the finish!

It's the EYE OF THE TIGER!! Rounding the corner to the finish

All done and still on our feet!! HOODIE HOO!!

A few noteworthy items that I noticed during the whole race experience.

TRUE endurance athletes will organize their race packets.

I was informed by a friend that this is a necessary part of race preparation. (This friend by the way is an absolutely OUT-OF-HIS-EVER-LOVIN' MIND obsessive endurance athlete. Seriously. He's an IronMan (you like how I bolded the word "IronMan?" I feel like it gives the name more UMPHF when read, like it deserves. Read it again and let me know what you think.) who will all in one day, run a full marathon, swim across the Pacific Ocean, ride a bike from Cali to New York, wrestle alligators in the Sahara Desert (do they even HAVE alligators in the Sarhara? I didn't think so...yep, that's how good he is.), all the while wearing spandex. Yep. Enjoy that mental image that just popped in your mind.) Okay, now....really?? I have to ORGANIZE theadvetisements that race sponsors put in a plastic baggie for me? The only important piece of information I needed from that bag was the course map (in case I needed to find a short-cut at about mile 5 or 6! At that point, I figured I wouldn't be above using a one. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?)

Atlanta, GA is apparently built in the mountains. For real. The Rocky Mountains I think. Not the weenie Smokies. But whatever...Downtown Atlanta has mountains. And my quadraceps felt every last incline.

Did you know that African American children are an endangered species? I passed an anti-abortion billboard that said that at mile 8. I had no clue....

People are wasteful. I saw more people throw away clothes on that run, than I've ever seen at any Goodwill or Plato's Closet before. I was jumping over sweatshirts and t-shirts left and right. I understand getting overheated while running, but really?? Tie your shirt around your waist! My husband would have KILLED me if I started throwing away clothes. Especially the cute Nike stuff I'd bought just for this occasion. But I'll be honest, the main reason I didn't was because I didn't want to scare small children. Like I've said before....nobody wants to see this post-partumness.

Race finishers! Kelly, Storm, & Me!

Overall, the whole experience was actually a super fun one, and despite all my nay-saying, I will definitely run in one again. Next time I just plan on training properly before. Because maybe then, I'll be able to walk the week after.

Extracurricular activities and my new way of life...

As of late, I've become tired of being tired of not having any fun extracurricular actives to entertain myself with in between all the hours spent sitting at my desk pretending to be productive and business-savvy with my bottomless pile cheerleading-related projects at work. Co-workers of mine are always bombastically raving about their extracurricular interests and I'm tired of not sharing my two cents pertaining to my life outside of work. I'm surrounded by sewers (as in people who stitch, not to be confused with a component of the underground sewage system), rock climbers, beer drinkers, cornholers (unless you're from the south – you probably won't know what this exciting activity entails. Google that shit.), cyclists (i.e. my husband), hunters, and potters (those who make pottery, and not the other definition of people who smoke pot - though I know of those who partake in this activity). Habits of mine right now include, but are not limited to the following:

1) eating 2) sleeping 3) working 4) and wasting my life on the internet

Not a very well rounded chain of events that happen throughout the day for me. Sooooo.....I've come to the conclusion that I need to add some other sort of activity in the mix. I briefly considered penguin hunting, but I'm limited on the number of penguins roaming around the Tennessean wilderness and the zoo has strict rules about this. And I even thought about collecting toothbrush handles and doing some sort of vehicular interior design with them. That one won't work though, because a) I know nothing about interior design and b) I only own 3 cars and I doubt anyone else would let me in their car with a glue gun and crap ton of toothbrush handles. Even my 3 cars are cut down in numbers because my husband would NEVER let me get near the Corvette (or his truck, I guess) with a glue gun and a creative gleam in my eye. Anyway, I digress.

The moral of the story is that I need a new pastime. It used to be stunting/cheerleading, but there comes a day (sadly) that one must give up on the dream of doing the "perfect" cheer. Contrary to common beliefs, cheerleading doesn't last forever. So I'm starting two new things that I hope will become quickly joyous habits in my life:

Numero Uno) Blogging. I don't really know what the hell it's all about, but people do it all the time and enjoy it, so...here I am. Welcome to my first official-I'm-a-blogger-blog. (Wish me luck in keeping up with this habit! Not sure if I'm a born blogger or not...but quite frankly, it seems lame. We'll see how long it lasts.)

Dua) (*that's "two" in Indonesian - thank you to my little Indonesian-blooded husby) Running. I've always sporadically ran around my house, through dark buildings late at night, and on a stationary contraption that pretends it knows how many calories I've burned after a short stint of moving on it. No, I mean REAL running. I figured if I needed a habit, why not make it a good one, right? It's better than being a drinker, potter (as in the latter description used above), or theiver (okay, theif. But "theiver" rhymed better with "drinker" & "potter"). And my creative/artistic skills aren't quite up to par, so I figured I'll skip out on the painting, sewing, etc. and spare people who view my creations the internal dilemma of "Do I tell her 'It's awesome!' or be honest and say 'This painting looks like a 6 month old blind kid threw up on it!'"
No. Running is going to be it. And I've officially started today. (Alright, alright...technically I've ran before, but this is my first "running is my hobby" running day.) And I've even started mapping out my runs (or run – singular, in this case) on Nike+.com. As with any hobby (at least I would think it would be "any hobby" unless you're a potter), I'm starting off small. Today was only about 2.5 miles or so, but tomorrow I'm planning on running to Nashville and back. Should be a good time.

Don't worry – this will be good because now you can keep up with my running hobby through my blogging hobby. Word.