What I'm Loving

Here's a quick list of my current obsessions interests.

Book 1 of the
"Mark of the Lion" series

• I have read a TON over the past couple months. And I am hoping to keep it up, but am not optimistic with the kids getting crazier and crazier by the day. Right now, I get my reading done roughly every 3-4 hours or so... that includes the middle of the night... when I'm feeding Meda. I'm smack dab in the middle of the Mark of the Lion series by Francine Rivers, and it is phenomenal. I highly recommend it. I'm currently also reading a few other books at the same time for my bible studies too. If you are on Goodreads, send me a request. I love that site! Other books piled up ready for me to start are:

As Sure as the Dawn

Brain on Fire

Seriously... I'm Kidding

Gone with the Wind

(*who doesn't know this story? But I want to actually read the book instead of just the movie!)

• Shhhh... this next one is a secret from my frugal husband.... but I've been working on stocking up on my shoe collection and recently added these babies to the mix. My friend had them, so I copied her and ordered my own pair. (Hey, imitation is the best form of flattery, right?)

• I am becoming OBSESSED with eBay. Thankfully, not as a buyer... but I am literally cleaning out my closet and selling everything I haven't worn in a while! When I say obsessed, I mean I literally check it every few hours to see if I have any more "views" or "watchers." And when there's a bid?? Oh, man... you better believe I do a jig. (Said "jig" may have remnents of The Tootsie Roll in it too. Oh yes. Get pumped.) I mentioned this before, but I also sold some old iPhones I had and made a decent amount of money. I've lucked out and sold multiple clothing items already this week! WHOOP! I even had to run the post office to stock up on shipping supplies. I plan to keep updating my seller's page with items.... (so I can pay for the shoes listed above and the City of Collierville what it is due.)

• Something else I am obsessed with these days? FashionABLE scarves. I've been ordering them from True Boutique in Louisiana because the service there is awesome. The store's goal is to make a difference by using shopping as a platform to help others. (This is not a paid post, I "truly" love True Boutique. Ha! See what I did there... "truly" love "True..." I crack myself up. #NotReally #LameAttemptAtAJoke) But seriously, they carry FashionABLE there and I now have the below items in my closet thanks to Mary Helen's (she's the owner) speedy shipments and very helpful service! My sister has the white one in the picture at the bottom now, because I'm super awesome and got it for her for her birthday. Each of these was handmade in Africa and they are much more beautiful in person.

Happy Birthday, Katie!
You're welcome!

• This last one is a tad hokey, but I'm loving watching my girls together. McKenna is the best big sister and Meda just stares at her all the time. Once she is mobile, Meda is totally going to follow MK around all the time, I can already tell. I know they're going to be great friends as they get older (when they aren't trying to kill each other because one stole the other's toys, clothes, and boys, of course). 

What's Up, World? (Part 1 of 2)

Long time no-blog! What's going on in the lives of my favorite readers? I've enjoyed keeping up with a lot of you via my blog feed. Just because I haven't posted, doesn't mean I don't keep up with those of you out there who blog yourselves!

I know - it's been a while (again) since I last posted. And a lot of everything and a lot of nothing has happened since August. I'll give you the run down as quickly and painlessly as possible, but will probably break this post up into two different ones.

So here is Update Post 1 of 2!

McKenna & Bryant - 2009

~ Kids!  
So McKenna is (FINALLY) back in school (Praise, Jesus.) and loving her new teachers. (So is Mama!) There are lots of new kids in her class, but a lot of her old friends as well. She's back in gymnastics too and we're thinking about starting up piano lessons soon. (Speaking of which - does anybody have $100/month I could borrow for said lessons? I accept PayPal, check, or cash.)

Meda is now 5 months old! Holy Baby Growing Up!! And she is the best baby ever. Which, in hindsight, has made both Bryant and I realize how absolutely terrible McKenna was as an infant. By no means is a baby that you have to walk in circles (or on the treadmill for hours) to get them to stop screaming a "good" baby. Now, maybe she had her issues of being colicky and what-not, but still. Her first six-nine months of life is what made us invest in multiple forms of birth control until four years later, when we apparently forgot what a nightmare the second half of 2009 was. (Sorry, McKenna... Dad and I still love you, but geez... those lungs of yours gave your parents some issues.)  It is probably a good thing she was our first child, when we were ignorant and did not know any better.

Meda the "Snapping Turtle"

On the contrary, Meda laughs and smiles at everything and maaaayybe will whine every 3 hours or so, but that is is either due to sleepiness or hunger. But once those two issues are resolved, it's back to smiling and laughing. We call her our "Snapping Turtle" because her mouth is always open in a wide, happy smile.

Speaking of Meda, on the 29th of September, we had her baptized. She did so great and was beautiful in her christening gown. The church service interrupted her usual nap time, but she did so well, despite being tired. Below are a few pictures from that day. :-)

~ Family!  

We just spent the last 3.5 weeks with family members visiting us. Now, that may sound like a lot, but it's never enough time when your closest family member lives 5 hours away. I won't sugar coat it and say it's alright not living in the same town as any family.

Because it's not. It's not okay at all having to raise your family without any of yours around. 

(But don't worry... Bryant & I are about to start "Operation Get Our Parents to Move To Memphis" here in the VERY near future. They won't know what hit them. It's only logical they would want to be around us, right? Riiiggghhhttt???)

So Bryant's parents came into town... and with them brought 9 dogs! HA! Their two dogs recently had puppies, so we had a litter of Boston Terriers living with us for a couple weeks! (Yes, I realize 12 dogs (9 of theirs, 3 of ours) in 1 home is extreme. It definitely was. But it was temporary, and they were ADORABLE.)

Luckily, despite falling in love with two of the baby Boston's, I was able to stand strong and we didn't end up keeping any puppies. Whew!

MIL and FIL and DILs (dog in-laws) stayed two weeks. While they were here, my mom came to stay as well, so everyone was here for Meda's baptism. I can't tell you how much McKenna loved having them all here. (So did Bryant and I, for that matter! The ratio of 4 adults to 2 kids is juuusst about perfect!) While it was crowded, it was busy and fun.

(I will admit we all got our workout chasing the pups around the house before (and after) they pooped and peed all over the floor! HA!)

My mom left today, and it has been so quiet around here over the past few hours. I'm not sure when it'll be normal just having 4 of us around again.

(Probably not too long. HA!)

(Stay tuned for more updates on my life over the past couple months. Get pumped, people. Get. Pumped.)

Meet Pauline!

This sweet girl is the yet another 2013 addition to our family. She is an orphan who lives at Pehucci orphanage and school in Kenya, Africa. 

Because I don't mind bragging on her - she is about seven years old, in Class 2, and is #1 in her class! #GetItGirl  She is super, super sweet and her laugh and energy is super contagious!

I can't wait to watch her grow up and continue doing well in school!

When McKenna saw this pic, she said "Pauline looks sad. We will make her happy!"
#MeltedMyHeart

She visited her first carnival this month!

If you are interested in helping support a child in Africa through the BFR Kids program, please contact Britney or Lacey for more information!

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.)

When PreSchool Mama's Attack

So I've been meaning to post this, but just haven't yet....probably due to the fact that I was dreading re-living this day. It's now two weeks later, and I've recovered. Enjoy.

February 1, 2010 

So, today I experienced what I believe to be the first of MANY weird sacrifices I will most likely make for my daughter. What did I sacrifice? Oh, ya know....only my life. Let me start at the beginning....

Bryant and I made the decision to enroll McKenna in pre-school come this fall. Yes - she'll only be a little over a year old, but we want to provide her with every opportunity to learn and grow to her full potential, as any parent would. Besides, she needs to get out of the house and hang out with kids other than Bryant. (Yes - that was a small pathetic attempt at a sarcastic jab in my husbands direction. Just go with it.) So we did a little (okay, okay - minimal) shopping around for day cares/pre-schools and settled on Hope Church's pre-school program. I liked this program mainly because it is an actual SCHOOL and not just day care. Plus, it's a part of a church, so the teachers there HAVE to be nice to my kid, right??

  

So like any school that starts in the fall, registration is in the spring. February 1st at 5:00pm, to be exact. I planned on showing up right around 5:00, maybe 4:50-4:55 if I was feeling a little over-zealous. No big deal, right? Wrong. At the "Open House" Bryant & I attened, they ever-so nonchalantly mentioned how there are only 14 spots available in MK's age group and how last year registration started at 8am and people started lining up at 3am to get in. SERIOUSLY? So in order for McKenna to "get in" I had to go wait in line FIVE hours prior to the start of registration??? I guess I didn't realize this wasn't like public schools where they'll take any hooligan who walked through the doors. Damn! And the 1st was a Monday, so that means Bryant & I would have to strategically plan out our day accordingly if we wanted McKenna to get in to this program. 

Turns out Bryant had stuff to do that day, and I had work. Ugh. Luckily, my boss is super cool and I can easily work from my laptop pretty much anywhere, so she gave me the go-ahead to sit in line with my computer. (Plus, she has a year and a half year old little boy whom she had on a preschool waiting list PRIOR to his birth. And PRIOR to knowing if he was a male or female. I love it! So she totally understands and gets where I'm coming from with this whole "every opportunity" parent thing.) So my mom came into town to help babysit McKenna that day while Bryant did his thing and I did my pre-school wait in line for hours thing. 

Here's the basic run down of the day: 

8:00am. I'm not taking any chances....drive to the church, back pack loaded down with my computer and some extra work to be done. Nobody's here and doors are locked. Damn. It would have been easier to set up shop right then, but with no power outlet, my computer is likely to go on strike. Ugh. Oh well. I'll go home and return in a couple hours. (There was NO WAY I was waiting in the 32 degree Memphis weather outside for 8-9 hours).

10:15am. I've eaten breakfast and gotten a jump start on some emails. Feeling good. Head back to the church with my computer. Nobody's in the parking lot and doors are still locked. Didn't they say to get here "early?" WTF? I thought so too....alright, maybe I'll come back again in a couple hours.

12:00pm. If I go over there and the doors are locked ONE MORE TIME after packing up all my work crap, I might freak my freak. Time to pick up the phone and call. Dialed. No answer. Alright - doors must be locked. I'll wait a little while longer. I have more emails to catch up on anyway... 

2:00pm. Ugh. I should probably check again to see if it's open yet. I only live one mile from the place, so I'll drive over and if it's open, I'll come back and get my computer. Hop in the car with no computer. 

2:02pm. F!! Pre-School Mama's (known as PSM's from here on out!) are lined up waiting in their cars!! Oh HELL NAH!! They are NOT going to beat me in line today! I've already been here multiple times, so technically, I was in line before them! I park my ass right in the middle of a line of cars. Time to sit and wait. 

2:15pm. Alright, I need to get some work done, but can't risk moving from this spot. Call the husby and ask him to bring me my computer. I start strategizing my sprint finish for when they unlock the doors. Good think I wore my running shoes.... 

2:17pm. Who does that PSM think she is getting OUT of her car and walking up to the door? You JUST drove up! There's NO WAY you're going to be allowed to cut in front of us who have been sitting in our cars and ever-so-politely-ignoring-each-other-while-working-on-our-plan-of-attack. 

2:20pm. Janitor sees PSM outside locked door and let's her in!!! OMG!! Time to get serious! Sorry husby - you're gonna have to find me inside. All of us PSM's jump out of the car simultaneously. I walk quickly/speed walk/borderline run to the now unlocked doors. Victory. I beat them all. (See? I KNEW all that half-marathon training would pay off! 

2:25pm. I park myself fourth back in line(Annoying, I know. But the PSM who walked up to the door first had her sister and a friend with her, so I felt bad ordering them to the back of the line. Hey - I'm a nice person, alright? BUT no worries. Their kids were all older than mine, so I was still FIRST in line for McKenna's age group. BOOYAH!) 

2:30pm. Bryant shows up with the computer and a yummy Lenny's sandwich. Jackpot. Now I can feed my face and get some more work done. 

3:00pm. Whoa now. The line has more than DOUBLED in size of what it was. PSM's keep showing up, gawking at the length of the line and trying to cut.(In their defense, the line ended up facing the direction of the door, so it looked like the front was actually the back.) But they were quickly shot down by the five of us who were in the very front. 

3:15pm. A rather upscale-looking PSM arrives and stands non-chalantly on the other wall opposite of me. Without making eye contact with anyone, she sets her massive Fendi handbag down on the floor and leans against the wall. Myself and the other PSM's look at each other with that evil gleam in our eyes. Oh yes. We understood alright. This PSM was planning on making a last second dash for the front without claiming her rightful spot at the BACK of the line. Myself and the pack of PSM's at the front would not allow this. We'd better go in for the kill early. We silently planned out our attack. The fearless leader of our line politely, yet forcefully informed the out-of-line PSM that the end of the line was "back that way" with an extended arm point. Long pause. Out-of-line PSM hesitates (to decide a plan of action, no doubt), then slowly leans down to grab her bag with a mumbled, "thanks." She unwillingly waltzed her way to the back of the line and took her spot. Whew. Crisis averted. Someone could have gotten hurt. Glad she didn't put up a fight or it could have gotten nasty. 

4:55pm. Fast forward to almost 2 hours and a plethora of PSM's later. The Pre-School adminstrator decides to show up. The line of PSM's get restless and antsy. 5:00pm. Administrator begins taking registration forms and our hard earned PSM non-refundable registration money. 

5:00:48pm. I walked up to the desk with a big smile and my forms. Administrator takes them and says, "Thank you. Have a good night." 

Wait.....That's IT? My entire life wasted away today in a church parking lot and hallway and that's all I get?? A measley SIX words?? I feel as though I should have at least gotten some sort of certificate for wasting my day like that. Or at the VERY LEAST a "HIP HIP HOORAY!" Hmpf! They are rather anti-climatic at Hope Church if you ask me. 

So moral of the story. I think I'd rather wait in line for Miley Cyrus tickets (Ugh! Gag me!). At least I'd have some immediate gratification. And Hope PreSchool had BETTER accept her for my day of lack of work done that day and the torment I endured sitting on that hard church floor with the other PSM's. 

Or else.... Tune in next month for the announcement of her acceptance or rejection.

Funston Family Planning

(Disclaimer: While this blog may seem to have a negative connotation, please be aware that the parents-to-be are very happy with the ending results!)

Well, it’s official….Bryant & I are going to be parents. AHHHHH!!! What a scary thought. If you know either of us, I’m sure you'll thought the same! But yes, we’re both really excited, but it still doesn’t seem real yet. No really…I think I’m faking it. And it’s all Stew Messer’s fault.

Let me start by describing my pregnancy from the beginning - jinxed. A friend of mine, Stew, started a nasty rumor back in early February that I was pregnant, and has been telling people ever since. Well, it took him 8 or 9 months, but it worked. He jinxed me. Punk. My stellar baby planning plan was to wait at least until I was 28 or so to pop one out. I won’t go into details of the stellar plan, because they’re all shot to hell now, since Stew had to go and ruin it.

Let me back up and describe D-Day….as in “discovered I’m jinxed” day. Stew just happened to be telling people at lunch that I was pregnant one day (which happened to be a Wednesday, by the way. No really, it was a Wednesday….no intended alluding to the legendary Mr. DC!), and something hit me….. “Oh f*ck. I’m pregnant.” Driving home from work that day, I kept having this internal argument with myself. The following is a script is what sort of went through my head on the 20 minute or so commute:

“No way. There’s no way….Bryant & I have always been careful…..well, I might as well check….yeah, that’s it, just prove Stew wrong……holy cow, I feel sooooo pregnant right now…..but I haven’t been sick…..nah, Stew’s playing mind games with me…..wtf??......I think I feel a kick…..yep, that’s definitely a kick…oh god, I'm pregnant.”

This argument in my boggled mind somehow directed my car to the local Walgreens where a plethora of “family planning” devices are sold. Time out. “Family planning?” Who the crap PLANS this kind of thing? (oaky, lots of people, but NOT me!) Every person I’ve ever seen in that aisle at Walgreens or Wal-Mart, or some other “Wal” store, has been a terrified, knocked up teenager who is thinking of ways to keep from being grounded while breaking the news to a pair of irate, “We’re too young to be grandparents” grandparents. Actually, now that I think about it….that’s probably EXACTLY what I looked like trying to decide on which “family planning” test I would take home. Anyway, I digress. I picked out a random 3 pack and took them home.

Once home, I chugged, and I mean CHUGGED about 6 glasses of water so I could relieve myself onto one of these weird little sticks (which apparently you’re not supposed to do, since it dilutes the variable – oops. I was never good at science anyway.) Sure enough….all three tests said, “yes, dumbass…you’re pregnant.” Then came the dilemma of how to break the test results to the husband. Two words to describe this conversation. Awkward turtle. Poor Bryant. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I remember just throwing out a jumbled string of random words related to babies and pregnancy, and him giving me the “WTF" look. You know that look. So I had to show him. Despite the three positive tests, neither he or I believed it since I wasn't sick and had no real symptoms, so back to the family planning aisle at Walgreens we went to grab a two packer of a different kind of test. Yep. They were positive too. I just remember the words “oh” and “f*ck” running through my head.

Skip ahead a few days. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment, so that I could get a professional opinion and they could tell me I was faking it and Stew truly hadn’t jinxed me. I called my all-knowing sister about the appt. wondering what would happen at the doctor’s. Here’s what she said….and yes, this is a quote. “Oh, this will be the easiest prenatal appointment you’ll have. They’ll ask some questions and you’ll have to pee on another stick.” Can you say LIAR?? I almost died that day. Really. I had everything from cameras to needles shoved in me. (I apologize if that is too much information, but it’s the only way to describe what a horrible near-death experience I had). Yuck, I think I might yak in my mouth thinking about those needles and the THREE EXTRA LARGE VILES of blood they not-so-nicely extracted from my body….or maybe just faint. Either way, not good. And my hands have gone weak thinking about it…..ugh…but yes. The doc confirmed the jinxation. (Is that a word?)

I do have a sentimental moment to confess. Despite all my nay-saying about finding out I was knocked up, when I saw the embryo (fetus? baby? whatever.) and the heart beating away during the ultrasound…wow, don’t know how to describe it, but it was by far the coolest thing I think I’ve ever seen. The doctor gave me a picture of it to take home, and suddenly all my optimism and hopes were dashed. The fetus looked like a gremlin. Wonderful. Of course I would have a fetus in me that looked like a devilish character from a scary movie. Why would I think I would have a normal looking kid? And no, I’m not talking about the cute fuzzy little gremlin called Gizmo that we all know and love. No, I’m talking the scary, big-eared killing machines from that horrible Christmas horror movie.

Since that appointment, I’ve been fortunate to not be sick or have any major symptoms (except getting fat...but that could also be due to my new I love McDonald's diet!), which is why I still think I’m faking it. I think I’ve figured it out though. Stew’s playing a huge joke on me and the doctor’s in on it giving me a gremlin picture. Bastards. Anyway, I figured I’d share the story with all of you, so you can be forewarned when peeps start spreading rumors about you. And by all means…do NOT involve Stew Messer in your “family planning” plans. :-)