How {not} To Take Your Kid to College

TeenOne and I have been friends a long time – 19 years, in fact.

  • Mistake #1:   Don’t think your kid is your BFF, she’s not.  She’s your kid.  You’re the grown up.

Since we’re such close friends, there was some kind of subconscious me that didn’t think she’d ever leave.  But this thing called an Acceptance Letter came for a visit and never left.  Annoying.

So there we were, barreling down the highway toward “college,” but we treated it more like a road trip.  You can call it denial, I called it, “taking quirky Instagram pictures whilst out-of-town.

After about five hours of beautiful coastline (yawn), we pulled up to her vacation destination college. Continue reading

Checking in with {the littles} and {the middle}

I was going through photos yesterday and realized life had gotten way too Senior Ball/Graduation/College Searchy.  I decided I needed new pics of the Littles and the Middle — especially the Middle, because I rarely take photos of him or TeenTwo.

That’s Little in the top photo.  We’re in her Gramma’s backyard and she’s seething under that smile because she’s wearing that denim dress and would much rather be wearing some sort of t-shirt and Aerosmith-tight black leggings.  She’s also unaccustomed to hair styles, but TeenOne got her mitts on her and made a sweet braided ponytail.  Isn’t wearing an uncomfortable get up to your Grandparents’ house sort of a rite of passage?  I feel like I was helping her in some way.  Or, you know…  making the photo better?  I love the way you can see her new freckles.

Next we have Littlest.  That is the most photographed kid in the county, I follow him around like I’m filming a documentary for PBS.  The thing I love about this photo is his genuine desire for me to GO AWAY.  He usually loves hamming it up, but the comic was apparently more entertaining than I thought.  He has some new permanent front teeth and they make him look awkward and growny.  So, I’m OK with the comic-as-shield for this one. Continue reading

#100 Days of Salad {Oy.}

“I am doing a new thing.”

Catchy, right?  My new things have included wearing all black (too hot), giving up sugar (too delicious), riding my bike everywhere (too many hills), running (blew my knee), going without all social media (um, hello, I have a blog), veganism (no cheese/no way), vegetarianism (they don’t eat meat?!)…  Lots of ‘isms.

After losing 40 pounds and then regaining 10 15 20 an undisclosed amount of weight, it was time for a new, “new thing.”

That’s how the #100daysofsalad thing was born.  So, I said it:

I’m doing a new thing where I only eat salad for 100 days.

Continue reading

The one where I’m a hypochondriac. Or Dying.

Little known fact:  I’m a hypochondriac.

Currently, I believe I have mono (I don’t), strep (no chance) and chronic fatigue syndrome (just lazy).

I do have narcolepsy, though.

That’s a real thing.  I know, because I fall into a deep, coma-like sleep every single time I try to read on my iPad.  I mean, every time.  Typically, I raise the iPad up to begin reading, scroll-scroll-scroll to wherever I left off the night before, and then:  WHAM!  There’s an iPad slapping me in the face.

That sucker’s heavy, too.  I don’t have the iPad Air, you know.  I have the full-on dinosaur, first-release, fat iPad.  The iConcussion.

Back to my (undiagnosed) narcolepsy.  Here’s what I’ve found on WebMD: Continue reading

70s Once More {dinner}

It may interest you to know that I have a reputation as a “Food Nazi.”  I like to tell other people what not to eat, particularly while I’m dieting suffering myself.  My general spiel goes something like this.

“Wow.  Are you really going to eat that?”

The response is usually:

  • “I worked out for like 5 hours today.”
  • “I only eat carbs on the third Thursday of Solstice in a leap year.”
  • “I’m not eating it, it’s for a friend.  I’m going to regurgitate it for her later.”
  • “Shut Up.”
  • “Why?”

They really hope their response wasn’t, “Why,” because I can provide lengthy explanations. Continue reading

Jesus Calling {true story}

I never answer my phone, in fact I’m sort of hated known for it. I mean, I’d answer for John Cusack for sure… Rick Springfield… Adam Levine…   It’s a short list.

So imagine my surprise when I was ignoring screening a call yesterday, and my Caller ID’s robotic voice said,  ”Je-sus Chr-ist.”  I looked around at no one there and said, “Did that phone just say Jesus Christ?”  I was curious.

Not curious enough to answer, mind you, but curious.

I forgot about it until later that day when I saw the message light flashing.  There it was:  Jesus Christ (cue angels singing).

Wanting a logical explanation, I did what anyone would do in this situation, and consulted the experts:   Facebook.  Turns out? Continue reading