Facts.

Right now I should be practicing the speech that I have to give at 9:00 tomorrow morning in front of approximately 1,000 of my co-workers. Of said co-workers, 4 of them are family members. There will also be friends, people I can't stand, my boss, my boss' boss, and the Vice President of Operations.

I REALLY should be practicing.

But instead, I'm doing this. My latest coping mechanism seems to be writing emails, blogs, or Facebook status updates when I should really be dealing with something more pressing.

Fact: I just went for a walk with my ipod and a shoeless, muscular teenage boy wearing a fairy costume popped out of the bushes and ran alongside me for awhile. 

Fact: the boy-fairy's friend was videotaping our interaction, and informed me it will be on YouTube later tonight.

Fact: I have discovered how to make a Starbucks-like mocha IN MY OWN KITCHEN!

Ingredients:

•  2 T Hershey's Cocoa powder
• 2 T Sugar
• A dash of salt 
• 1 cup milk (or 1/2 cup milk and 1/2 cup half and half)
• 1 cup very strong coffee
• Whipped topping

I mixed it all up on the stove and I have to say, it was excellent. And the best part is, it did not cost $5.

So ...

What did you do on Saturday night?

I attended a Murder Mystery party. Of course, the theme was "Psycho Circus." I mean ... what else could it possibly be?

Anna and I shared a babysitter. When that poor girl arrived to take over watching our crazy-ass children, we RAN out the door. Literally.
 
I was Harriet the "Horse Woman" and although I was ridiculed endlessly about how I looked like I'd gotten bucked off the horse a few too many times I at least had the presence of mind to take pictures. 

 

Hello, clown.

Here is our hostess ... I think she played the part of "Tuppance" the contortionist? Who was also a food vendor ... I think.

From left to right: A gypsy, a contortionist food vendor, and a special-ed horse woman. With her horse.

Did you know that Walmart now sells microwaveable boiled peanuts?? They were a big hit.

Our hostess couldn't stay away from them.

There were cupcakes ... 

Hot dogs ... popcorn ...

And a bearded lady.

Double Sinks ... in an instant.

This is where the miracles happen.

How did I ever operate with a single sink? I guess no matter how large of a lavatory space I have, I'm going to use all of it.

I keep thinking I need to simplify or pare down my morning routine, but I have no idea how to do this. In fact, I keep adding to it.

I continue to discover new products.

My latest discovery is Clarins Instant Smooth Perfecting Touch. It's foundation primer that is supposed to conceal lines, pores and imperfections, "in an instant." You can see it in the picture above in the red container. It came with a "spatula" that I was supposed to use to apply it with, but I disliked that.

However ... it's 6 p.m. and my makeup hasn't worn off yet like it normally does. I don't look greasy, either. I think this purchase was worth the $32 I spent on it.

Pep Talk.

Yesterday I called my husband from work and said "I need a pep talk."

Silence.

I said, "I need you to tell me everything is going to be okay."

He said, "Everything is going to be okay."

Then I informed him that I needed to hear him say "you can do it." So he did.

It was an odd exchange, but it worked.

Insomnia.

It is 3:44 a.m. and I have been awake for two hours.

WHY?? 

Well ... it's a combination of my husband's snoring and the fact that I have awful cramps which made it impossible to go back to sleep once I was startled awake at 1:30 by the freight train lying next to me.

What sealed this deal was the Midol Complete that I took to make my pain stop, which (I found out too late) has caffeine in it. I tried everything to lull myself back to sleep, including the following:

1. Counting backwards from 10, then 100
2. Visualizing myself going to sleep
3. Systematically relaxing myself, yoga-style, one limb at a time ... this was nice, but ineffective
4. Kicking my spouse repeatedly until I felt guilty

At 3:00 I said a bad word, bit the bullet, and got up. Currently I'm listening to the rain, drinking coffee (yes, I realize this is going to bring the cramps right back, thankyoukbye) and trying to complete an article that is NOT. GOING. WELL.

I forsee a long day in my future. Happy Monday!

 

Ode to Coffee.

I'm beyond addicted to coffee. 

Not only do I require it by at least 8:00 a.m. in order to function, I honestly just love the taste. I mean, really LOVE it. It just makes me happy. The smell, the taste, the warmth ... I can't even tell you how depressing it was when I was pregnant with the Toddler and I had to cut it out completely.

Actually, that's a lie. I never cut it out completely. I tried. But then, finally, I broke down and asked my OBGYN "how terrible is it really if I drink a cup of coffee or two a day?"

She said "it's fine," and I kind of wanted to hug her. Then she followed it with "You're gaining a lot of weight ... have you considered Weight Watchers?" and then that huggy feeling went away.

I really want to have another baby, like, yesterday, so I've been trying to cut back slowly. I'm hoping that when I do pop up pregnant it won't be such a shock to my system if I've been tapering off slowly.

It's not going well.

I am a Starbucks girl and if I had the money thought my husband wouldn't bother me about it, I promise I would hit the drive-thru twice a day. Once at 7 a.m. and once at about 3 p.m.

I would order a venti latte in the morning and a tall latte in the afternoon. Maybe with whip, if I was feeling skinny that day. I have put a lot of thought into this.

Alas, that adds up to about $10/day on lattes, and that, my friends, equals an embarrassingly expensive habit. On top of my other embarrassingly expensive habits.

And so, I have grudgingly accepted my fate that is a $5 bag of Community Coffee.

Phone Call.

I love my mama.

Yesterday was one of those times when I just needed my mother. I called her and we talked for an hour and then all was right again. Sometimes I just need to hear her voice. There's something about it that still calms me even though I'm a grown woman with a child of my own.

I'm Southern and I call my parents Mama and Daddy. It probably makes me sound ten, but I will always call them that. I've been thinking a lot about them lately. They are young -- only 21 when I was born -- and I'm an only child. I'm close to them. My parents are very unusual people. That's an understatement.

I went to boarding school at 14 and never really came back home until I hit a quarter-life crisis at 23. That's a whole other post.

In high school, I sobbed to my mother on the pay phone in the lobby of the dormitory when my heart got broken or heard that one of my friends was talking behind my back. I called her on this same phone when I got an A on a big test ... or when I needed money.

Now, I live far away and I still have to call her on the phone to talk. I'm always so jealous of people who can go have lunch with their mothers on a whim, or can drop their child off at Grandma's so they can get their nails done. 

I have literally spent half of my life living away from my parents, but they still have a huge influence on me. I hope that I can be as close to my children as I am to my parents.

That's Right.

It's official!

I'm heading to Chicago in just a few weeks for a much-needed girl's weekend, and it's going to be fabulous. I haven't done anything like this since I was in college. And come to think of it, none of the "girl's weekends" I've had in the past involved fancy hotel rooms or plane tickets.

I do believe this is one of the perks of being a grown woman.

SAVE ME.

I just opened a bag of Chocolatey Caramel Crunch Boy Scouts popcorn.

I buy it from a co-worker to give to my dad every year, but in a moment of weakness ... I tore into it.

Don't let these smiling boys fool you.

It looks innocent. In fact, the back of the bag says 100 years of scouting.

This bag contains 3,000 calories worth of chocolate caramel goodness.

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME?!

Angelhair Pasta.

Apparently I didn't get the memo about how AWESOME angel hair pasta is! How did I not know this?

I. LOVE. IT.

I love that it cooks in 3-4 minutes. 

I love that it makes any meal feel fancy.

I love that it really does look like angel hair and it's easy for my Toddler to eat.

Now that I have professed my love for this product I am realizing that it has been around for ages and everyone reading this is probably thinking to themselves "did she really not ever try angel hair pasta before?" Well ... no. I had not. I was previously a plain ol' spaghetti girl. 

Bear with me while I make new discoveries in the kitchen.

I am not a free spirit.

I WANT to be … but I’m not. I’m a planner, a worrier, and uncertainty makes me anxious. I do not “go with the flow.” I want to control the flow.

I see nothing wrong with this.

Pupil Dilation.

I went to the eye doctor today.

 

Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread.

My parents have a pet name for me: Pumpkin. It sounds more like "Punkin," actually. I'm not sure if they adopted this name because I was a roly-poly child, or what. 

This season, I'm finding myself to be a bit of a roly-poly adult so I figured I'd just embrace it and get to baking. My friend Courtney brought this divine Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread to work last week and the smell of the cinnamon, nutmeg, chocolate, and of course -- pumpkin -- inspired me to make it at home.

I'd like to point out that while most of my culinary attempts turn out fine, I am still a very inexperienced baker. Just thinking about making any kind of bread makes me nervous, so I asked the Toddler to give me a pep talk. 

He yelled "gooooo Mommy!" with one fist in the air. 

I like to rock my sheep slippers, jammies and apron when I cook. You can't see the top half of me, which is for the best.

This recipe makes THREE 9x3 pans full o' bread. 

Here are my pans.

Cooking with a recipe that is online is a challenge ... how do the rest of you do it? I realize I should print out said recipe but our printer is currently buried under a PILE of junk in our hall closet which is another post altogether.

I chose to balance the laptop precariously next to the coffee maker, and pray that the Toddler didn't try to grab it.

I enjoy the way that raw eggs look before you break the yolk.

The batter smelled, looked, and tasted amazing!

Verdict: this pumpkin bread is easy to put together, makes your house smell great and the final product is impressive enough to give to other people.

I do need someone to tell me how to extract the bread from the pans without tearing them to pieces. Thank you.

Happy baking!

Best Purchase of the Month!

Remember this horrible excuse for bedding? 

If you want to know what is going on there, that was our one extra set of sheets that had the texture of paper towels, and a too-small duvet (queen size) without a cover on it.

We used to have nice bedding ... before an unfortunate incident involving too much tequila.

May I present ... my new, grown-up and respectable bed!

 




















My husband feels like it's too girly and I can appreciate that, but the reason why this wins the award for Best Purchase is because I bought it for $30. That's right. The whole set. It came with a comforter, shams, and a bedskirt. And nothing is wrong with any of it!  

I just happened upon it at Walmart of all places. Normally I abhor their bedding. The best part is, I saved so much money on the comforter set that I was able to justify buying 500 thread count sheets to go with it!

The print is fun and it reminds me of a Mexican cantina. Which is really appropriate since that is where we were the night that I completely ruined our former bedding.

  
  Cheers!

WHOA!

... IT'S SATURDAY!

 

Hello, Fall.

I am now ready for the season. I am so excited about my new wreath I can hardly stand it. In fact, I can't wait to get home this afternoon so I can admire it from the driveway.

I bought it at Hobby Lobby for $35. I think I may have discovered a new obsession. Wreaths just add a little something extra and THAT, my friends, is never a bad thing.

Open Letter.

Dear General Public,

Please do not wait until you are

1. heavily medicated

2. drunk

3. around screaming children

4. without your hearing aid

5. in the WORST MOOD EVER

6. crying uncontrollably

7. urinating

to handle your insurance business.

Thank you,
Harmony

I'm picky about shoes.

They have to be the right height, look good on my feet, and do that magic thing that heels do that make you look elongated and leaner than you actually are.

I don't have the money to splurge on the kind of shoes that don't fall apart. I buy shoes on sale and eventually, inevitably, they fall to pieces.

Here lie my beloved Steve Maddens.

I have been looking for replacement pointy-toed brown leather heels but they are impossibly hard to find. And so, sadly, I continue to wear these even though they look like THIS.

Yes, that is an actual hole in the toe of my shoe. When I wear them in the rain, my feet get wet.

I think I have a problem. Stacy and Clinton would NOT approve.

Keep Calm.

Do you know how hard it is to take a picture of yourself inconspicously when you work in a cubicle?!

It's difficult. And I'm pretty sure at least one person saw me do it.

I have to make a speech in front of hundreds of people two weeks from Monday. Granted, it will be a short speech ... but still.

This is me taking a minute and trying to maintain my sanity(why does my left eye look freakishly larger than my right? I will need to look into that).

If the past few awful months have taught me anything, it's to take one hour, one day, one event, at a time. It takes practice, but I'm getting better at it.

TMI.

I swore I would never do it.

I never wanted to be “that” mom. The one that discusses her child’s poop. No one wants to hear about it, really. And I know that. Yet despite my best efforts, I failed.

My toddler is afraid to poop. For reasons unknown to me, he is so terrified of the act that he is spending a lot of time and energy holding it in. It’s worrisome, it’s weird, and we’re working through it. I am so consumed with solving this problem that I felt the need to discuss it during lunch.

I met my girlfriends from work at our usual time. We chatted about what is new this season in footwear. We discussed whether or not wearing high-heeled, tall boots means you’re looking for a good time (I submit that it does not).

Read the rest of my column here!

Well?

What do you think of our new look?!

Facelift.

This blog is about to get one.

Anniversary.

Today is our 5-year wedding anniversary. 

I made the best decision of my life when I married my husband. We have been through a LOT in the time that we have been together ... there have been times when I didn't know if I made the right decision or not, and I wondered if we would be able to tough it out. There have been times when I threw items at him in anger and felt so upset I didn't think I would ever get over it.

But, I did get over it. We always made up and moved on. He is not perfect and neither am I, but we are perfect for each other. I am so excited about our future together and what it will bring, and with every obstacle we face and overcome together, I grow more confident in our ability to overcome ANYTHING.

Robbie proposed to me in December of 2004 ...

We got married on October 9, 2005 ...

We packed up and moved to Birmingham, AL for no good reason. Here we are on our 1st anniversary:

Then, about three years after that, we had a baby.

... nothing could have made us happier.

But we never stopped having fun. In fact, we have more ... just a different kind.

I turned 30 ...

... Robbie shaved his head ...

And we are living happily ever after.

On It.

I'm 30 now, which means that I have to start faithfully mailing out Christmas cards every year.

You're welcome.

I'm definitely on the ball this year, because it's October and I've already selected my card from the Snapfish website. I only have to get someone to take a family picture ... and ... done.

Revelations.

When I first found out that my husband was going to be gone every week for three weeks in a row, I freaked. I mean, on the inside.

Outwardly I smiled, told him I was so excited for him because he was going to get to fly to new places and stay in nice hotel rooms. But in my mind I was thinking "OMG ... how am I going to make it with the Toddler all by myself?!"

I have to say, I have really enjoyed every moment I've had with my son over the past few weeks. I thought it was going to be stressful to do the single mom thing, trying to juggle it all. But strangely enough, it was the opposite of stressful. I noticed during Week 2 when Husband was in Atlanta that I felt calmer and more like myself than I have in a long time, so I started mulling it over.

I have realized that I feel happy because am good at being a mother. It's what I enjoy more than anything else. I love to cook, I love to clean, I love being a wife, and I REVEL in motherhood. While my husband has been out of town I've gotten a chance to really connect with my son. It's been a really special time.

It made me wonder what is different when Husband is here. I mulled that over. I have concluded that since I'm a working mother, I always approach our life with an attitude of "everything needs to be equal." So when I have rushed home from work, cooked dinner, and am in the middle of folding clothes, I will often ask my husband to give Toddler a bath/put him to bed/feed him a snack.

I've noticed that I ask him to do this stuff because I feel busy and overwhelmed with household tasks, but then I always wish I was taking care of Toddler instead. I always end up feeling guilty. This experience has made me realize that I would be better off stopping whatever I'm doing and taking care of my child. The laundry can wait. My husband can learn to cook SOMETHING. The house can stay messy. Or, we can hire someone to clean it.

A woman's work really is never done. And in trying to be everything to everyone, I often forget that my main purpose on this Earth is to nurture my family.

Get Up & Get Down

I love my friends.

This blog post by my friend Courtney CRACKS me up. And it also made me wonder why I haven't worn a dress with jeans lately. It's a very comfortable, yet cute, way to hide a muffintop. As she pointed out, wearing a dress with jeans is definitely a "get-up."

I work in a very conservative corporate environment and we (my friends and I) get regular comments on our attire. My friend Anna wore yellow tights last Winter that earned her plenty o' unsolicited comments and stares.

Verdict: Many people in an office setting do not handle "get-ups" very well. This is something I find endlessly entertaining because usually the person who offers the unsolicited comment is, in fact, wearing some misguided form of a get-up as well.

Also ... I just feel the need to say this somewhere ... teased blonde bangs are no longer okay. There. I said it.

Shiner.

My son gave himself a black eye with his new guitar. He whacked his face with the handle end of it. One minute he was happily strumming, shouting at the top of his lungs "twinkle, twinkle, little staaaaaar ...."

And then, tears.

You can kind of see it in this picture ... it's his left eye. It makes him look like a real BOY.

I keep telling myself this black eye is probably the first of many. He is a boy, after all. I can't decide how that makes me feel. I don't want my son to be a wimp, but it hurts me to see him with any kind of bruise or mark.

I just force a tough face, and if he's not bleeding then we (me) just brush it off. Because we're tough.

Am I Black?

I've been thinking lately about my appearance.

White people tend to think that the skinnier you are, the better. Which is why I've always felt that

1. I was not attractive
2. I may not be full-blooded Caucasian

I've always joked that I'm actually black. Which is funny, because I'm really VERY white ... I am just shaped like a black woman. That has always made me feel connected to black society. I also envy the sass of black women, and their ability to cook. I can hold my own in the kitchen, but I don't fry. Due to the fact that I live in the deep South, I feel like my lack of ability to fry makes me a failure.

I wish that white women didn't feel the pressure that we do to be skeletons. I have accepted that I'll never be a skinny girl and I am okay with that, but the pressure is always there. The dissatisfaction. 

My white girlfriends all think they are fat, and I can assure you I'm fatter than every single one of them. On a "good" day, when I feel like my life is under control and I don't look like a complete mess, I'll stand back and think that we are all a bunch of stupid idiots who have no idea what is and is not truly beautiful. We all look just fine, just the way we are.

And I still think I might be like 1/4 black. Seriously.

Groceries.

I left my husband with a grocery list today. It contained items like toilet paper, oranges, grapes, brown rice and couscous. He hasn't been home during the week (because he is still training for his new job), so it's just me and the Toddler and we love our fiber.

When Husband goes to the grocery store he comes home with junk like chocolate milk, Pop-Tarts, and cheap frozen burritos. He also likes to buy bags of those miniature powdered donuts to go with his chocolate milk. It's like letting an 8-year-old boy loose with a grocery cart. It used to shock me, but now I just find it funny.

He's gotten really good at following the list, but I fully expect to come home today to a box of Choc-O-Lantern Frosted Chocolate Fudge Pop-Tarts. And a gallon of this.