Marriage is a Team Sport

Marriage is a Team Sport

After a recent disagreement which resulted in limited and only necessary talking for a 24 hour period, my husband and I had one of those monumental, relationship changing discussion that resulted from my intense frustration over the inability to get through his male genes which seem to prohibit them (the male species) from comprehending anything that we (the females and without a doubt higher species) are saying. When I had finally had enough of the tension, I started a discussion that pretty much got us no where. We each stayed on our own side and refused to see where the other person was coming from. In other words, in our eyes the situation called for a winner and , therefore, a loser.


 Really??? Should there be a loser in a marriage? Are we really supposed to be keeping score? Are injuries or season lows supposed to side line the whole thing? Or worse send it into retirement? (Not Brett Favre's kind of retirement, but the permanent kind---the Big D.)


After all marriage is a lot like a football team. There are many different aspects of a team. Some of the positions get more recognition than others. Some team members get more playing time than others. Some coaches get to call the plays while others have to make sure the plays are executed correctly. And, yes, some times the team falls short of their goal.


But a team is a team because they work together. The reciever isn't mad when the running back scores the touchdown. The offensive lineman throws himself in front of a defensive lineman to protect the quarterback. The defensive back must save a touchdown from being scored by the other team. They must each do their part. And the team would never stay together if each person was constantly telling the other what they were doing wrong, keeping score on who did what job last, or if they did not support, encourage, and have a common goal.


The same is true of a marriage. There are those who cook, do laundry, work in the yard, mow the grass, bathe children... And most of the times these jobs are shared or split up according to preferences. There are also different stars or people doing certain things (changing diapers, folding clothes, feeding munchkins) in a marriage. But to make a marriage work, one can not keep score of who is doing what and when and why. Both must do their part, be there for their teammate and team, and trust their teammate to be there for them.


Yes, every football team has lows in its season. Just like every marriage has times where one or both people think of quitting, but if you can pull together, both making sure you have the same goal (a loving and successful marriage/family) it can work. It can be healed. It can be awesome. You just have to be ready, because at any point in time you can get knocked down by a linebacker, lose a game, or even have a losing season. Then adjustments must be made and every team member must be willing to do so, which is the point that I was trying to make to my teammate during that extremely long car ride.


So strap on your shoulder pads and jock straps and get ready for a wonderful, awful, amazing, frustrating, and loving roller coaster of a ride.That, in retrospect, is totally worth it. Just never forget, "Marriage is a Team (usually full contact) Sport".

Apparently Break=Sickness

Apparently Break=Sickness

One of the major advantages to being a teacher...okay... one of the major reasons for being a teacher are the breaks. Fall, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Winter, Spring, and most importantly Summer! I know you all want to think that we do it all for the kids, and I guess deep down I would have to admit that we do. However, on those days when Dontavious has driven us to the point of quitting and going to say "Welcome to Wal-Mart" the thoughts of those luxurious weeks of vacation make everything ALL better... or at least bearable!


This year however the vacation gods appear to be against us. Over Fall Break, the smallest munchkin was sick with an ear infection. Not fun at all. Pitiful little munchkin makes ones heart break! 


On the first day of Thanksgiving break, I suddenly felt as if my uterus was going to fall out. The pain was atrocious and excruciating! I knew I was not going into labor because the pain was not making my stomach get hard, but I could definitely see where a first timer could think they were going into labor. OMG the pain was horrible! Alas, no need for labor and delivery. It was just a very bad bladder infection. A bladder infection that took half of the break for me to get over. I spent most of it in pain on the couch getting absolutely nothing accomplished and unable to enjoy much of anything. 


Now it is Christmas break. "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year". Well, not for the Hill family. On the first day of the break, we head to Valdosta for Christmas with my mom's side of the family. Munchkin #1 was fine except for an earlier complaint of a headache, however, on the way she turned very pale and upon arrival in my cousin's pristine kitchen she proceed to throw up not once but twice, showering herself, my husband, my sister, and my father with green beans and other varieties of partially digested food. (Oh you think the description is gross. Well, you should have been there, seen it, and then have every mother in the room look accusingly at you!!!). Afterwards, she just seemed tired. Later she ran a little fever, but woke up the next morning fine! 


Alas, all was not as it seemed. The next afternoon the fever returned, but after Tylenol she was fine again or so it seemed. We went over to sister in law's house for dinner (before you look accusingly at me, she knew that munchkin did not feel well and told us to come anyway). After eating, munchkin fell asleep and when she woke up she was on fire! Not just warm, I mean on FIRE! 103.7!!! So off we are today to the doctor and I am sure we are in store for a flu test since it appears there has been an out break. Why oh why have we not gotten flu shots yet????? Well, Brian went and got his! (hmmm just like a man to take care of himself;).


So the moral of my story is that I am not making any big plans for Winter or Spring breaks because in the Hill household Apparently Break=Sickness!

My New Super Power: Magnetism

My New Super Power: Magnetism

So I have developed many super human powers since becoming a mom. I have master the ability to multi task. My kisses have taken on a healing power. My hearing has become ultra sensitive and can immediately detect the pitter patter of little feet. My spit has become a patented house cleaning product and can clean the chocolate (or is that poop) off of a wee munchkin's face. 

The other, less convenient, power that I have developed is that of magnetism. Now before you picture me walking around the house attracting everything that is metal. Let me assure that is not the kind of magnetism I am talking about. Nor am I imagining the helpful kind of magnetism which would attract all misplaced toys, clothes, Cheerios, and that one missing sock to me in order to save me the trouble of bending down and picking said items up for the one 1,000,000th (picture Dr. Evil) time. 

I am alluding to the form of magnetism which occurs at extremely inconvenient times and only attracts the little people in my house. For instance, the phone rings. I answer it. It is my mother. We begin talking....3,2,1 enter munchkin number 1 who just must tell me something extremely important even though she has felt no need to communicate with me whatsoever in the last 45 minutes. I shoo her away and suddenly munchkin number 2 needs her booty wiped. As I continue my conversation whilst wiping her booty, munchkin #1 resumes tapping me repeatedly and my mom can just not understand why in the world I sound like I am snapping.

Another event which seems to draw my children to me like a moth to a flame is any time I enter the bathroom. Now this could be when I am in the shower and they feel the need to come and stand outside of it, just staring or else wanting me to draw Nemo on the shower door. But most of the time they are pulled to me when I am gracing the porcelain throne. No doubt that is the point in time when it is vitally important for them to play peak-a-boo, show me the latest dance move, read me a book, or even come sit on my lap. Trust me, locking the door will not work. Then you are just going to have to get up off the toilet to unlock the door so that the whining and crying will cease. 

The final and most magnetizing event of all is that of ...relations. Have no fear, my husband and I will finally have time to ourselves and I will finally not be too exhausted and the pregame will commence. Now, I assure that at some point in time during the "Game" be it pregame, the main event, or postgame relaxation some little person is going to interrupt. We did get smart and learn to lock the door. We had to after, I am quite sure, we scarred our child for life when she inadvertently witnessed our "wrestling" session. So now we must be super sneaky, super quiet, and super fast or, alas, our twosome will suddenly become an unwelcomed, and quite persistent with the knocking, threesome.

So I have learned to live with my new super power of magnetism. I mean how could I not when it draws such cute little darlings into my arms, even if it is at extremely inconvenient and inappropriate times.

White Christmas (1954)- Sisters

Get up and Dance!

Get Up and Dance!


I love movies! I know I have said this before, but seriously I love them. I now know where my 6 year old gets her addiction. It must be hereditary. In fact, I think I recently read about the Cinematic gene which is passed down from generation to generation. The symptoms of the disease include sitting opened mouth and googled eyed staring at the television, a.k.a. movie screen, and the inability to focus on anyone or anything else whilst entranced by whatever movie is serving as the enchantress of the night.


Tonight our movie choice is the holiday classic, White Christmas. I remember my sister and I being almost the exact same ages as my girls and watching this movie. We would curl up on the couch with a blanket and hot chocolate (much like tonight) and immerse ourselves in the dancing and singing and romance of it all. In fact, we even had a routine imitating Rosemary Clooney and Ava Lee's "Sisters". We would clear out the living room and use big pillows for our feather fans and put on a performance complete with lyrics and dance moves (maybe this could be the performance at this year's Pinkston Christmas!).


My point is that movies take us to a different place, time, and life. Not that I ever want to leave mine, but what I wouldn't give to live one of these lives in a movie for just a couple of hours. Dancing and singing across the stage while falling in  love in a musical. There are so many great ones Singing in the Rain, The Sound of Music, Grease, Mamma Mia, Wicked, Hairspray, West Side Story, Annie, Chicago, Moulin Rouge, every Disney musical ever made, and most recently Burlesque. Each one leaves me wistful, romantic, happy, and longing to just get up and dance! 

Potter Lover and Not Afraid to Admit It

Potter Lover and Not Afraid to Admit It 

So Thursday night, I slipped into a mild form of depression. My sister, my cousins, my aunt, my brother-in-law, and countless others were all attending the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. I, alas, was at home because my husband smartly pointed out that missing one day for Potter could cost us money down the road if I ended up using all of my days for maternity leave. 


Now, anyone who has never read the series is going "Seriously???". Yes, seriously. First of all, if you have never read the books then let's not, as they say, Judge a Book By Its Cover. It is by far the best, most imaginative, most thought out, and thought provoking series of books that has ever existed. For those of you who think it is "evil" because it has magic and because you have never read it so you really don't know what it is about, I have this to say: Do you watch Disney movies? Because almost every Disney movie there is has fairy god mothers, evil sorcerers, sea witches, tooth fairies, Santa Claus, wicked queens, good fairies, and countless other forms of magic a.k.a fantasy. That is just what Harry Potter is: FANTASY. And Bloody phenomenal fantasy at that!! 


When I expressed to one of my friends my depression, she could not believe it and looked at me with eyes that read "you are a little bit silly and perhaps crazy". Now that is probably very much true, but I think that not having something silly to be excited about is even sillier. 


Life is too short. We are here to enjoy this amazing place that God has given us and allowed us the privilege to be apart of. This includes books or movies or exercise (blah) or painting or sewing or trivia games or scrap booking or hanging out with friends or blogging....whatever it is that helps you enjoy life. 


Of course the first thing we think about is family and it goes without saying that should be the most important and give the most enjoyment, but I am talking about things that are just for you. Many of us, especially moms, don't take time for ourselves. We don't find something to love and be passionate about that expresses who we are and allows us to be someone other than a mom and a wife. 


People always ask me how I make time for reading, watching movies, blogging, playing Bunko, working on a Christmas parade float...My answer is always the same: you make time for things that are important to you and things that you enjoy. If you don't, your life could end up feeling empty and you might end up depressed about worse things than missing the premiere of a movie. 


As for me, I love anything that allows me to experience things  I could not in the real world. I love to be taken out of the reality of my life and escape into the world of make believe. It makes me happy, and sometimes we need to find simple things that bring happiness and contentment into our lives and allow us to escape, if even for just a few pages. 


 Therefore I make the following proclamation: I am a Potter lover and not afraid to admit it! And hopefully soon, I will be able to escape reality for a few hours when I immerse myself into the work of the young wizard and come out happy and relax, ready to enjoy and appreciate all aspects of my life. 

Wonderings: Part 1

Wonderings: Part 1




Football Fans-
Why in the world would someone come to a football game not dressed in the proper attire? No, you do not need to have your chest painted or a team shirt on, but, come on, at least wear the right color. Red or black. Very common colors. It is not like we are baby blue and lavender or something. Certainly you have something that is red or black in your closet. Oh, you are not really that into football.....then don't come to the game. Trust me I would not be there if I were not into football. Or if it did not determine my livelihood. Plus, what if you wear the color of the other team? Like the lady in purple last night when the other team was purple. Seriously? What were you thinking? I wonder.

Tights-
Why do you think that little girls tights stop the patterns a good foot or more from the top? I mean we all know how hard it is for tights to stay up, especially when their owners are running and dancing about. We have the cutest pairs of polka dot, striped, argyle, and a variety of other tights. Yet they all turn plain half way up. Meaning that the little munchkins' mama must constantly pull up their tights so that the plain part does not hang below the dress or skirt. Certainly, they are designed by someone who has never had little girls that wear said tights. Otherwise, they certainly would have designed the patterns to continue all the way up. Does it really cost that much more to continue the pattern another foot? What were these people thinking? I wonder.

Wanna Be Disciplinarians-
Have you ever been in a store or in some other public location and see a child misbehaving? Now, I know how I would handle this. As quietly as possible in order to not draw any more attention to myself and my misbehaving munchkin. Please know that I would not allow said munchkin to continue to misbehave. However there are people with a very different philosophy. These are the people who discipline as loudly as possible in order to draw all attention to them. And the things they are saying...."Boy, get your a@# in this cart"...."do you want me to jerk you up"....." I am going to back hand you". I have three theories:
1. They want us to call DFACS on them because they are in fact tired of being parents and would like a short break from their children while they are placed in foster care for a little while.
2. They want everyone to think they are excellent parents. Clearly they are confused. Excellent parenting does not involve screaming at, beating, or belittling your child in public.
3. They have just lost it. As we all sometimes do. But I don't think this is the issue in most cases at the Wal-Mart.
What are they thinking? And why do they keep having children? And can they get any louder? I wonder.

Good times! Good times.

Disclaimer: Not sure if you want to read this if you are a man, but maybe you should so you can see what we women must go through. 

So today was my fabulous appointment with my gyno. You know the one I am talking about. The one where you have taken more time to prune and clip than you did on your wedding night. The one where you actually take the time to paint your toe nails since they will be on display in those oh so lovely stirrups. The one for which you tirelessly shave your stubbled legs (which is now a gymnastic feat what with this ever growing belly)  that may not have been shaved for days upon days, yet as soon as you take your clothes of become immediately stubbled again. The one where you feel like all of your goodies are on display for all of the world to see even if that world is only one person with some scary instruments and thankfully some Vaseline. 

Now this event is not pleasant for any woman, but it is especially not pleasant for a pregnant woman. I mean our bodies are already doing all kinds of crazy and many times disgusting things. And now all of that will happen with someone's face mere inches away from Ground Zero. The thought is paralyzing, and if it is for me I can only imagine what it is like for my Gyno.

But I arrived today ready and willing to have my "area" invaded and my mounds prodded. Part of it was ...I mean, whatcha gonna do? Run away screaming? I think that is frowned upon. Plus, the gown doesn't close in the back and that would lead to a-whole-nother embarrassing experience. The other part was that my midwife is the most fabulously cool chick that has ever existed and makes the whole experience feel like we're at a bar having some drinks and chatting about our lives.

Ahhh....that is how they could improve this whole unpleasantness....offer drinks. I can see it now "Pap Smears and Pina Coladas" or "Scraped with Schnapps". You could even go for "Mammograms and Martinis". I really think someone should run with this. It is GOLD!

Other improvements for any office that performs these extremely uncomfortable procedures:

1. Turn up the heat-hello we are naked!

2. Cloth dressing gowns-not only are they better for the environment, but they are better for my ego, too! Nothing depresses a pregnant woman more than putting on a gown only to have it instantly rip in all the wrong places. I get that I have gained weight there is no reason to make it worse.

3. Provide some form of distraction-not elevator music, but a TV on the ceiling or better yet pictures of Edward and Jacob gazing down at me.  Oh how I wish someone would bite me.....wait a minute, that is for another blog.

4. Bikini Waxes- If we are already naked and already extremely exposed and uncomfortable why not throw in a bonus service "Free Wax with Scraping".

All in all in was not that bad of an experience thanks to my super awesome midwife and nurses. I just think that men should have to go through the same thing. Having someone grab your manhood while you cough is not the same at all. Really all I can say is ....Good Times! Good times.

Being Cold Has A Whole New Meaning

First of all,  let me comment on the weather. Wow! It was cold last night. It was especially cold to anyone who happened to be sitting at a high school football game. I know it was "perfect football weather". But I really do not enjoy being cold. Plus, the main problem I have is...Where the heck is fall? We went from 90 weather on Monday to 58 degree weather today. Fall is my most favorite season, and I feel jipped (not really sure how to spell that but you get my point). 


So needless to say since I did not have a buffer into the cold, i.e. the Season of Fall, I was not prepared for how freaking cold it was. I know my northern friends are like "really 45 degrees is not cold". Ummm...yes it is! 


Now I tried to prepare. I put on Cuddle Duds and the girls changed into leggings in a, thankfully, clean Loco's bathroom. (Thankfully clean, because we appear to not be able to change clothes without plopping our cute little bottoms on the floor). We each had 2 shirts on and coats. Hats were also donned. Although, I had no hats for the munchkins so their heads appeared to be swallowed by fleece. 


So we are all as bundled up as we are going to get, and we finally sit down after quite a hike through the Americus-Sumter Stadium. This is the point where the cold gets bone chillings as my bottom graces the freezing cold bleacher. Did I mention, I hate being cold. Fortunately for me, there was a very large man sitting in front of me who blocked most of the wind. It was still cold, but  when you are a mama "being cold has a whole new meaning". 


It doesn't matter how cold you are you must sacrifice your warmth, and comfort for that matter, to warm your tiny humans. So through out the entire 3 hour game a munchkin snuggled in my lap. This was quite warm and comfy for about the first 5 minutes and then my back started hurting, my legs went to sleep, and my butt became numb. And so it went for the next 2 hours and 55 minutes, which was so long because apparently the lights at the field got cold too, so they froze up and stopped working putting a delay on the game for a little cold and uncomfortable while. 


However one thing was for certain, I was not cold! Uncomfortable, yes, but cold...not so much. At least not until, something attracted the munchkin away from me and exposed my lap to the frigidness. So apparently, when your a mama being cold has a whole new meannig....it is now also known as... uncomfortable. But I would sacrifice all my comfort and warmth, for that matter, for these cute little munchkins any day! Just next week, we will be much more prepared!

Sleep Sweet Sleep

Has anyone ever noticed how hard it is to sleep when children are present in your household? I recently commented on a friend's Facebook status that she should sleep all that she could before she had her baby. I wasn't lying. You literally don't really sleep again for.....heck if I know how long. All I know is that any night you go to bed thinking, "Ooooooh I'll not only get to sleep tonight but get to sleep late." Some little munchkin some where is doing the "Heeeee, heeee, heeeee" laughing knowing very well that they will foil all plans of sleep.


It starts before they even leave the womb. The end of your pregnancy is probably the most uncomfortable you could ever be in your life. Not only has your body exploded in all places, but your bladder has been smushed like a lemon and is constantly leaking causing you to pee 10 times a night. Then there is the horrific heartburn and  heavy belly. Not to mention, the little monkey inside your belly that feels like being wide awake and participating in a prenatal gymnastics class while you are trying to sleep. I really think this last trimester is God's way of readying a new mother for what life will be like for the first few months after delivery: Sleepless!


Then you finally get your kids out of the baby stage, out of the eating every few hours time, and out of  not sleeping through the night, and you think, "Yes, now I can sleep!" ....Heeee, heee, heeeee! Did you hear it? The munchkin laughter. They are laughing because now they are potty training and getting up to pee pee in the middle of the night. Something they appear to not be able to do by themselves until the age of 6 or so. Or they might have night mares involving alligators or ponies or wicked old hags. Whatever the reason it will, I promise you, result in you feeling like an infant yourself. Why? Because you will never sleep all the way through the night again.


I am at my parent's house this weekend. Super excited about having someone else be in charge of my children and someone else cooking my food. Also, stupidly, I was super excited about the prospect of having a good night sleep. Alas, I forgot to listen for the "Heeee, heee, heeee" of munchkin laughter. For that is what they were doing through out the night that I thought I would sleep peacefully through. First the oldest, comes and climbs into bed with me where she proceeds to move and cough (hasn't coughed any time previously or any time since waking up) and move and cough and move and cough. Then there comes a cry from munchkin #2's room, "My bwankie is wone!!!!" Have no fear, mommy to the rescue and she finds the blankie....right beside the munchkin's hand. Then the oldest is up checking the time and to see if Papa is up yet. Not happening at 4:30, dear. Then the kid in my womb, who apparently is plotting with the other two using prenatal brain waves, causes me to get up twice to pee. Then the youngest suddenly has to go "poo poo" and needs me to "wipe her booty". Really? Really!


Finally, finally, praise God, Papa awakes and the munchkins descend to the downstairs area. Ahhhh! Sweet sleep. Finally!... "Heee, heee, heee". Did I forget to mention that we are apparently raising a cheerleader with munchkin #2, and she is able to project her voice so that it echoes not only through Mimi and Papa's house, but throughout any house in a 2 mile radius? Sorry neighbors. But hey that is the one disadvantage of having these loving, amazing, and funny kids. You must say good-bye to sleep sweet sleep for at least ..... heck if I know for how long! Let me know if you ever find out!


Check out the previous video post. Here is a man who feels my pain. I love this song!

Pachelbel Bedtime - SWC Films

Life's Too Short

Disclaimer: This is deep.


My small town of Cairo seems to have experienced so many losses in the last few months. There are too many to name all of them, but there were some that really struck close to home. 


First, Jake Elkins, the heart of our State Championship football team. So young. So vivacious. So loving and giving. So very, very tragic. He was snatched from life so early and pointlessly. No one knows why, and no one probably ever will. There are no answers, and there are so many questions. All we know is that his life ended before he ever really got to live, and his death left a community aching and comforting each other in its wake. All of us questioning. All of us hurting. All of us coming together. 


Next Wendell Harrison. I didn't know Wendell, nor do I know his family, but his death was so quick and the people around him loved him so much that it has left an impression on my heart. What really affected me about his death was that I saw him about 10 minutes before his death. I had to run home for something and I cut through the back roads. On my way back, I noticed the men standing in the hole in the middle of the street attending to the gas line. Ten minutes later he was gone. Taken right from the spot where he and his fellow workers stood returning my wave as I passed. So quick. 


Then there was precious Mikiah King. This angel was taken by an impaired driver as her parents were driving    down the road. I don't know all of the details of her death, but I know that her parents were making a trek that I made today with my own children, and she was snatched from their lives in the blink of an eye. The pain her mother and father are feeling is unimaginable to me. I can not even comprehend, and I pray every day and every night that I will never have to experience such utter and complete despair. Why would God choose to take a beautiful child? No one can know his plan, but we can't help but question. 


Finally (at least I pray it is because I don't know how much more our community can take) my friend, Jenni, lost her husband. He got up in the middle of the night to be the good daddy that he was to take care of his precious son, and sometime in the hour and a half left of the night he had a heart attack. Can you imagine? You kiss the love of your life good night and awake to find him gone. They had such a short time together, barely even six years. But they knew how much they loved each other. I think about the ten years I have been with my husband and the times we have gone to bed angry or the times I have been so mad that I have left in anger not even saying I love you.  What if something had happened to him? 


We take too much for granted. Maybe that is why these things happen....to teach us to appreciate those around us. Maybe they happen to help us learn to tell those we love that we love them every day with every chance we get. Maybe they happen so that we will know that no day is guaranteed, and we should live each day as if it is our last. Maybe they happen to keep others from dying in the same way later. Maybe they happen to bring people together, like Jake did for our community. Maybe they happen to bring people to God. Just think about the people who have come to know Jesus through the deaths of those they love. Maybe...


We won't ever know why tragic, heartbreaking events occur. We won't ever know how anyone comes through on the other side of these events....how they are able to go on living. I pray that I never have to find out in my own life. 


All I know is that  I will tell those I love that I love them everyday. I will try to treat the people I see with love and respect, because you never know what they are or could be soon going through. And I know that I will trust my Lord and Savior no matter how much I might question him about Why? 


I do not know his plan, and I never will. I just know that he loves us and commands us to love each other. And I know that we are never promised tomorrow. I know that every day I need to love those around me with this in mind. After all life's too short to let one chance to tell someone you love them pass.

Really? Really.

Alright, I get it! I am getting old. Is there a need to flaunt it in my face? I think not. Alas, mother nature feels the need to do just that. 


It was one thing to have forehead lines at the ripe old age of 25 (must have been all of those summers in the sun without sunscreen---which I blame completely on my mother and not on my ability to escape like a slippery fish and run away screaming which was soon followed by screaming from the burning pain and cold aloe). It was another thing for weight to start staying attached to my thighs and stomach when it used to just melt away with one extra exercise session or starvation fest. And then it was another thing for these blasted lines to start going from the sides of my nose to my lips. What is that about? Am I a clown now? Seriously? Seriously.


And then a few months ago, I saw it--my first grey hair. Well, actually, it was white. And while it was on my head, it was not in my hair. It was in my eyebrows. REALLY? Really. At first, I brushed it off as light blonde. I mean it was the middle of the summer, and I had spent a lot of time in the sun (though be it with sunscreen-doing all I can to prevent more of these unsightly lines). Luckily, I could easily solve the problem of the could be, but I am going to believe it wasn't, white hair. I plucked it out. I mean, first of all I didn't believe in the old wives tail that "2 more will grow back in its place", and secondly, I mean what was I supposed to do---leave it there? I think not. I mean it was a white, but I am going to stick with blonde, hair. 


Sadly, it appears the old wives tail was right, because a week or so later up popped two more, and they continue to pop up no matter what I do. Soon I am going to have to shave my eyebrows off and start a new trend for thirty somethings to draw on their eyebrows like a young,, but scary Joan Crawford. AHHHHHH!


Now comes the kicker....and I do mean kicker, because it is literally kicking me while I am down. Not only do I have more lines on my face than a walnut, thighs that jiggle like Jello, Bozo the clown lines, a saggy butt, and white hairs (I have come to grips with reality), but now I am turning 33. THIRTY-THREE! 


I am not some person who swore they were turning thirty and holding. I am proud of my age and regardless of this post, how I look-flaws and all. Plus, with every year I have aged I have gain so many amazing things in my life...husband, Aubrey, Addison, and now who ever this is I am growing in my belly. 


However, this all changed this morning. I was blow drying my hair, and there it was. A GREY HAIR. No way to take it for blonde. It was startling and depressingly grey. The funny thing was that it was totally not there yesterday. I mean no where to be found. Yet, here it is shining and silver atop my head. There was no hiding it. No mistaking it. It was loud and it was proud! So what did I do? I pulled it of course,and in a couple of weeks when two more pop up in its place all I will be able to say is.....Really? Really. Oh well I guess it is time to start dying my hair.

Spanking Really Does Hurt Me More Than You

When I was a kid, my parents rarely conformed to the saying "Spare the rod, spoil the child". It wasn't that we were well behaved (not hoodlums though). It was just that mom had a hard time catching us with the fly swatter that was scatter with the decaying wings and legs of its victims, and I actually think that my father was afraid he would hurt us if he applied the rod (he is a strong man).


My husband and I do not adhere to this same method of parenting. Now before you go calling social services, let me explain our methods. We do not spank our children religiously. We have many different methods that are utilized first before making the decision to use the "rod" (our hands), i.e. talking, timeout, removal of privileges... However, there comes a time when a child needs a good spanking in order to get the message across. These times include those of immediate danger (running out in front of a car or sticking finger into an electrical socket) or those times when you have repeatedly told your child not to do something and have talked yourself blue in the face and the timeout step has been worn out. 


The time to not "spare the rod" came to our household a couple of days ago. Our oldest child got in trouble, again, for putting her hands on someone or in this case two someones. She kicked one boy in the "booty" and hit another boy with her elbow. Now these boys could have very well deserved this treatment, however, we have discussed and timed out over and over again because of her love of putting her hands on other people be it in love, playing, annoyance, or anger. 


Since there were two offenses, I decided the time had come for two spankings. I can only imagine the feeling of dread that filled her cute little stomach (she has the cutest little belly button) all afternoon waiting for her punishment. Finally the time arrived right after bath time, and I bent her over my knee (something I still giggle about until it happens) and applied 3 spanks with my hand to her naked booty. The moment she started crying my heart broke, but I knew this was a lesson that needed to be taught so I persevered. She was over it in less than 1 minute. 


When Brian got home, I informed him that he now had to spank her for the second offense. This would be the first time he had actually spanked her and he was quite uncertain. Alas, he did his duty and got in a good spank. He thought he was done until he caught my disapproving look. At this point he applied one more, be it a much softer, lick which brought on the tears. 


The crazy thing was that the tears were not just from her. At the point of the second spank, my youngest ran into the room screaming at the top of her lungs, "Leave my sissy awone!" She then threw herself between my husband and the culprit. Then the dramatic crying ensued. Not from the victim, but from her protector. They gripped each other and howled with tears. It was the sweetest and funniest thing I have ever seen. You would have thought they both had been beaten with an inch of their existence. If I had been quick enough to get my Flip video camera, there is no doubt we would be rich. The youngest one's crying continued long after the actual victim was over it. I guess now I can truly appreciate the phrase, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."