We’re expecting! Not a human, good God, no. I’m almost 47 years old - my eggs are like the crusty old raisins you find when you pull your oven out to clean behind it once every five years, surrounded with fur and dust bunnies so big, they require vaccinations.
A String of Disappointments, and I'm Still Here
Several months ago I posted about an upcoming event called "Listen To Your Mother," a live event where authors read their work on stage in front of a live studio audience. I asked my subscribers to vote on which of my most popular articles I should use in my audition.
I was a little nervous auditioning, but I was pretty sure I’d get in.
I'm not bad looking, and I don't mean to brag...
I’m not bad looking. Let's get that out of the way at the very start.
Not to sound all braggy, but I’ve got a mouthful of straight teeth (and I never had braces!), tiny ankles, and naturally thick, healthy nails. I only recently started seeing a few gray hairs, and I have cute little Fred Flintstone feet.
But I’m embarrassed to say that I stepped on the scale this morning and I’m exactly 100 pounds heavier than the day I graduated high school.
I'm going to let that sink in for a sec.
A Day in the Life of My 12th Grade Self
Scrolling through all the First Day of School pics in my Facebook feed a few days ago made me think about how different life is nowadays than it was when I was a kid. Not that I’m a cane-wielding geriatric, but I’m no spring chicken, either.
And, let’s face it, if you’ve got kids in high school, you aren’t either.
When my kids come home from school, they’re sucked into the zombie-creating arms of technology. My 8-year-old doesn’t even put his iPad down when he goes to the bathroom.
He takes it with him, which launches me into a full lather, because I’m worried the child has addictive tendencies - what starts now as an addiction to his tablet, will surely progress to a full-on addiction to booze and heroin later in life.
Back to School: How the 504 May Be Keeping Your Kid From Adulting
Let me start by first saying that the title of this post is not meant to discourage you from putting a 504 Plan into place for your child. In fact, we have one in place for our son.
The purpose of this post is to help parents understand “the system” and become aware that these services exist.
But also to make sure you & your child understand what the Plan’s purpose is: to give them equal access to an education, and what its purpose is not: to give them less work or to get them out of certain classes or assignments. Although the accommodations might cut their work load down or allow them out of certain classes or assignments.
It can be confusing.
Back When ISIS Was A Good Thing
I've gotten into what some would view as being a very bad bedtime routine with our youngest son. At his bedtime, I go upstairs with him and we snuggle up together in his bed, and read a story. Then it's lights-out, but instead of me tucking him in and leaving the room, I continue lying next to him reading on my phone or iPad until he falls asleep.
Isn't it funny how people will give you their opinions on this? "Oohh, you're going to regret that!" they'll say.
But I haven't regretted it, yet.
The Good News Is, My Foot Still Fits In My Mouth
If you've followed my blog for any length of time, or if you've read my book, you know that the battle between me and my mouth is very real.
From cliche's, which I slaughter to pieces like some sort of harebrained butcher, to awkward small-talk exchanges that are so heavily wrapped in social anxiety, I invariably say something that earns me a furrowed brow and a silent look of confusion.
And sometimes I just get my words all jumbled up.
We went to Florida last week for a family vacation, and on the way there, I pondered whether I'd fit in my swimsuits or not (I did, but only the super-stretchy ones.)
I didn't wonder whether my foot fit in my mouth. But, alas, it does.
Family Vacations: Memories of Armpit Hairs and Salami
We're about two-thirds of the way to our destination - Panama City Beach, Florida - for a family vacation with my husband's side of the family, who we'll be hanging out with for the next week.
This is the longest road trip we've ever been on with all four of us, and I'll admit that I was worried about being cooped up in a car for the 12-hour trip, mainly because I remember what road trips were like when I was a kid.
The main things I remember about those trips was leaning up over the front seat to chitter-chatter with my parents, my mom reading a book in the passenger seat, responding with, "Mhmmm...wow...hmmmm...oh yah? Hmmm..," my brother announcing to my parents that he could see a hair growing in my armpit, and my dad periodically leaning over the back seat with one hand on the steering wheel, the rest of his body almost completely in the back seat, as he swatted at anything he could with his other hand, shouting, "Do you want me to pull this car over? Huh?"
The Gifts I Hope My Dad Gives To My Boys
My teenager was forced to emerge yesterday from his dark hole of a bedroom because it was the first day of summer break, and we had to go get his passport renewed.
Just a few days before, I'd stood on the front porch, bantering with him as he walked out to his car, watching him pull out and waving goodbye to him as he left for one of his last few days of his junior year.
He hates when I do this.
"Why do you do that? It's so weird," he'll say in a tone that makes it clear he's disgusted by the whole thing.
Stealing Cookies and White Supremacy: It's All Just A Misunderstanding
An awkward and alarming email came through from my son's teacher last week, saying he'd been caught stealing cookies in the lunch line, and could I talk to him because it seemed a bit out of character.
I assured her I'd speak to him right away because - as I mentioned to her - everyone knows that stealing cookies in the lunch line is the first step toward a lifelong pattern of crime. One minute, your kid's pinching a few cookies, then you blink, and they're all grown up, showing colors and throwing gang signs.
Before I could get to the bottom of my kid's new hobby as a shoplifter, I visited with one of the other moms* waiting for our kids after school. I mentioned my sadness and concern over my child's dark turn toward crime, feeling like she couldn't possibly understand my strife.
I was wrong.
Murder-Suicide? Or Just Avoiding The Phone?
Running around this morning, unloading the dishwasher from last night, tossing dirty socks into the laundry basket, then picking up throw pillows from the floor, which is where they spend 97% of their time, because my children are trying to kill me, so they intentionally take them off the couch and toss them to the floor on the daily, I thought to myself, "I wonder how Mom and Dad are doing?"
It's been a while since I've heard from them.
Not that I ever hear from them. We only talk if I initiate the call. And when I say "call," I'm referring only to my dad. My mom doesn't talk on the phone. If I want to have a conversation with her, it's almost always through texts, which is pretty funny when you know the back story.
Press Release: Local Author Debuts Humorous Memoir
LOCAL AUTHOR LAUNCHES DEBUT HUMOR/MEMOIR
“Metamucil screwdrivers: the middle-aged mommy’s favorite way to kill two birds with one stone.”
LEANDER, TEXAS, April 20, 2016 — Local marketing consultant and freelance copywriter, Kristan Braziel, of Leander, will debut her humorous memoir, You Should Write A Book! True Tales of An Unstable Life, at the Blockhouse Creek Owners Association BBQ Cook-Off.
It's A Good Day To Be Alive
My inner dialog this morning as I stretched myself awake: "Hooray! It's a school holiday, so no early rush to get lunches made!"
Followed immediately by: "Booo, it's a school holiday, so the kids will be home with me all day." (don't judge me)
Then, "Hooray! It's Friday, so we can sleep in the next two days!"
Followed by, "Booo, I have a dentist's appointment this morning."
I'd been awake for 25 seconds and I'd already been taken on an emotional roller coaster ride.
I trudged downstairs to make my beloved coffee, then went back up to get ready for my day. I reached for my contact solution, tipped the bottle over, and poured my perfectly-brewed cup of coffee over my unsuspecting contact lens.
Cat-like Vapor Lock (and other stress-induced oddities)
5 Songs I Will Love & Sing Forever
A few months ago, I got a new car and I feel a little silly saying it, but my favorite thing is the trial account of XM Satellite. The best channels are 80's on 8 and 90's on 9, and I toggle between the two stations losing myself in the memories the songs from those decades brings back.
I'm sharing a handful of songs here that I'll love and sing forever. These aren't in any particular order, because I love them all for very different reasons. Enjoy!
9 Pet Peeves That Don't Include Beef Jerky
I challenged myself (because that's what I need, is another challenge in my life) to write a blog post every single day for a month. Then I took it down a notch (because I'm all about lowering my own standards), deciding instead to write a post every single day - Monday through Friday - for a month.
The last 24 hours have been spent brainstorming topic ideas that range from parenting, to how-to's and hacks, to books and product reviews. Nothing's off limits, I'll write about anything (this is a not-so-subtle request for ideas - what do you want to hear me blather on about?)
Instant Confidence Booster: Think Of All The Idiots Out There
As you probably know, I'm in the process of publishing a book, You Should Write A Book!, which is thiiisss close to being ready for the editor. It's taking longer than it probably should because I keep coming up with more to add to it.
I have stories to tell, y'all. I can't wait for you to get your hands on this tell-all.
The back-end stuff to writing a book is what takes so darn long. Getting the stories written and organized is a pretty big job, sure. But the editing junk, the design junk, the publishing junk, and the legal junk... that's what takes forever, and I'll be honest: it's sometimes a complicated process.
The Problem With My Husband
I love my child. I do. My love for him far surpasses the hatred he has for writing. And he has a deep, dark hatred for writing.
Bizarre irony, don't you think, considering his mother has a desperate, twisted love for writing?
He's in second grade, now. In kindergarten, I'd get calls from the teacher saying my son gets distracted during writing practice, and doesn't get his work done. We chalked it up to his age.
And the fact that he's a boy. The maturity thing, you know: boys mature slower than girls, blahblahblah.
Kanye's Freak Flag
I've never been a Kanye West fan. His music doesn't appeal to me whatsoever, and he always goes off on some tangent, usually at the cost of someone else, which is a big turn-off for me.
Usually his antics make me sort-of shake my head in astonishment, then I go on about my business, continuing not being a fan of his.
I don't spend any more time on it than that, mainly because I don't like to spend my time on negative energy, but it's also because I have my hands plenty full dealing with my own crazy, thankyouverymuch.
But I have a few issues with his latest rants.
Let This Be A Warning To All You Young Golden Goddesses
My dad is technically English (he moved to the States when he was about 5, so he doesn't have any of that fun accent, anymore. He still uses some of the colloquialisms, though, like the word "bloody," as in, "I couldn't get a bloody cab to save my life!" Or "knackered," as in, "I had way too much to drink last night. I'm completely knackered today." But none of these things sound quite right without the support of an English accent.)
With that English heritage of my dad's - thus, of my own - we probably have some Scottish down the lines somewhere. I've submitted my DNA to Ancestry.com, and I'm just waiting for the results so I can find out if I was switched at the hospital, and really belong to someone wealthy and with no history of mental health issues.
