Welcome to my completely uncensored and random stream of thoughts which are probably not interesting at all – but you clearly have nothing else to do right now otherwise you wouldn't be here? So stay a while! xoxo
When I picked my girls up from camp this summer I got two types of hugs:
From the 11 year old – The Running Hug: a huge smile spread across her face when she saw me and then she sprinted towards me with a full on embrace that easily lasted 30 seconds. That was a hug.
From the 14 year old – The Stiff Back Half Hug: somewhat of a semi smile emerged before she could force it back down while one arm kind of made its way awkwardly around part of my back coupled with the greeting “Hey Amy”. Was that a hug? Was it? At least it wasn’t The Heisman Hug. That’ll rip a mom’s heart out! Wait…Did she just call me Amy in public?
Sadly, I know that my ‘authentic’ hugging days with my girls are fleeting. I also know, however, they’ll come back to me full fledged when they have kids of their own … and those kids start acting – dare I say – like they do?
Cliché, but … I. Can’t. Wait! (Insert evil laugh!)
But this did get me to thinking…
My Dear Sweet Waist,
Old friend, some letters are harder to write than others. This one fills me with sadness but I’m comforted knowing we had a good, albeit short, run. I miss you more than you can imagine and am flooded with memories of all our special times together. Now that you are gone I pray we’ll reconnect, but understand if we don’t.Read More
Let me preface by saying that this list could EASILY be more than 10 things. Not to brag, but my child really loves and respects me. I just shaved it down to a few of my favorites. 🤷♀️Read More
Y’all. Please. I used to be so cute when I woke up. Bounced out of bed with nary a care, threw my hair in a clip and the only make up I needed was a smile. Adorbs, I tell you!! Now, not only does it take me from bed to kitchen to stand completely upright – the mysterious old lady pains in my hip (YES, HIP) and shoulder (WHY???) that I feel for NO REASON are not nearly as painful as my arch enemy ‘The Mirror’. That b*tch loves to point out my lack of eyebrows (except my gray or steel wool ones) … the sagging lids (like 80 year old boobs hanging from my sparse browage) … huge puffy Louie Vuittons under my eyes (think steamer trunks not small cross body) … thinning hair (is that actually my scalp?) … chins (PLURAL) … whiskers (fun to say, not to see) … wiggy waggy neck skin (looks like a vagina) … the sweats (when all I’m doing is sitting…SITTING) … explained weight gain (okay, that one’s on me) … and all the brown age spots. I see you late 40s 👀.
Albeit blurry without my new bifocals 🙄
Slow your roll.
Slow. Your. Roll. 🤬🤬🤬