Dear Girl Scouts of America:

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Dear Girl Scouts of America: Why are you hiding from me? I get it. It's freezing cold outside and snowy and a bit icy and school has been cancelled for a few days and the driving conditions for your parent's minivans are probably deplorable... still, have you not an obligation to uphold for the sake of the fat people of America?!? I have driven by Wal-Mart and Kroger every single day this week looking for you and I cannot find you anywhere. Girl Scouts, I need some tagalongs and I need them NOW. I need them TODAY. And I want to support you and your horse-back riding camps and your leadership development classes and your little badges for your little sashes and all that jazz, but let's get one thing straight: I really just want your cookies. And now that you have gotten me all addicted to your crack, you are morally obligated to sell it to me.  You are the dealer. I am the user. And I need my tagalongs. It's been an entire year.

So... put your little jackets on. Borrow some ear mitts. Have your granny knit a scarf for you. Put some twelve hour long-lasting heat packs in your gloves if you have to, catch a small cold or the flu if you have to, but it's time to suck it up and make some sacrifices here ladies.  I need the Girl Scouts to get back in the game and remember what's most important: ME.

Dear Dad:

Really?

Please tell me this isn't what you listen to.

Please tell me someone planted these in your truck and set you up.

Please tell me you don't still own cassette tapes.

Dear Valentines Day:

I joined the gym.  I joined because it's only thirty dollars a month and that includes up to two hours of free childcare each and every day. Can you believe that? What young mother wouldn't work out (or, ok, sit on the toilet in the locker room reading my Kindle and catching up on emails) if it means free childcare? Anyways, that's besides the point Valentines Day. The point is this: My free personal training session that came with the membership was quite devastating. The young pup started off by commenting on how slender I was. "You've had a baby?" he said, "No way! You are just so slender. You must be doing something right! Wow, you must have a really healthy diet!" Of course I knew that everything he just said was false. I was only deceptively slender and no I wasn't doing anything right (like not exercising in over a year) and no wasn't eating healthy... unless donuts and three meals a week at Chick-Fil-A qualify as the new healthy... no, I am not abiding by any rules. But the more he talked, the more I started believing him. "I knew it! I am slender! I'm still rocking my pre-baby college body! You looking good girl! Those blue jeans that don't go past your knees anymore... they're shrinking after all! What a phenomenon! I knew the air pressure in my closet was making all my pants get smaller! I knew it! I got it going on!"

Valentines Day... that was all a lie.  Cause then the little yuppy with his ripped muscle-y arms and six pack and calves the size of my face pulled out this little pincher thing and started pinching the most ungodly parts of my body, on a witch hunt for fat, and then he started writing down numbers and scrunching his little face up... and then all those comments about me being "slender"???  Abruptly ended. Valentines Day, can you believe the nerve of that guy to be pinching my back fat? To squeeze the sides of my hips like he's trying to show me just how many servings of enchiladas and mashed potatoes I had stored up for the winter?  Putting his little pincher device under my arms and trying to give me little turkey gobblers down there, like I'm some old lady with skin flapping in the wind, hanging down to my knees? Valentines Day, he was looking at me with shame.  Can you believe him scrunching up his little yuppy nose and looking at the numbers like he just uncovered a ticking time bomb that needs to be disabled?

Valentines Day... apparently I have 29% body fat. That's only two short hops and a skip away from the catergory of obese unhealthiness. Apparently I need to lose 10 pounds. If I lose ten pounds I'll end up weighing what I did in the fifth grade. I told him that. I asked him if he really wanted me to weigh 117 pounds? Like a fifth grade girl? He said yes. Can you believe he said "yes" Valentines Day?!? What nerve from the mouth of a gorgeous little yuppy with way too many muscles.  And then he said he wanted me to gain it all back in muscles. Like I'm she-woman. Like I'm actually working out at the gym and not using it for free childcare, reading sessions on the toilet, and the occasional dip in the hot tub!

Anyways Valentines Day... I have to cut back this year.

Apparently, ten boxes of girl scout cookies is too many boxes for a family of two and a half. Especially since Ryan doesn't eat them and Annie was still eating baby food last Girl Scout Cookie season.

So maybe just five boxes this year.

3 boxes of tagalongs.

2 boxes of thin mints.

(And just between you and me, maybe a fourth box of tagalongs that I can hide in my closet. Please?!? I'll only eat it after really tough days at the gym. I promise.)

Smart things my friends have said this week.

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Krista:

(As I am trying to eat, talk to friends, and watch a football game... and trying to feed Annie when she doesn't want to eat) "You know it's ok to just give her pieces of food when she wanders over to you?"

Well NO Krista that never occurred to me... but it's stinking genius! Thank God for mom friends who tell you that you can just put a piece of ham in your kids mouth every ten minutes and by the end of two hours she will have technically eaten dinner. Having an older mom friend is like having a cheat sheet during finals. Brilliant. Thank you for always making me feel human Krista.

Jody:

(As we are having coffee and discussing the possibility of her daughter going to a private school. The kind of private school that she would have better chances of getting into if she rented an apartment- on top of the home she owns- in the same district that the school is located in.)  I just don't want to do that. To force this thing to happen. What if she gets in and the school totally screws her up and I look back and think, "She's only there because I forced it." I don't ever want to look back at my life and see that I have forced anything to happen simply because I could. I want to look back at my life and see that things happened because God made a way.

It's comments like this that make me grateful to have deep, beautiful people all around me. And the crazy thing is... she didn't even mean to be deep or beautiful or profound... it was just a part of the ramble.  And yet it made me re-think everything. Thank you for being so wise Jody.

Jackie:

(As a group of friends gathered for tamales and a break from our snow-bound cabins at her kitchen table, we did what we always do at Steve and Jackie's house: talked about the things that really matter. We do that by asking questions that everyone at the table answers. I loved Jackie's question).  If you had a warning label on you, what would it say? Like mine, Jackie said, "Would be: Warning I'm crazy. But if you can put up with the crazy, I will make you stop and think."

We went around the table and spouted off our warnings. One friend said, "Warning: I probably don't care." She's 16. You gotta give her time. Another said, "Warning: I am full of useless sports trivia and I love sports, so be prepared." Another said, "When someone really tries to be my friend I turn into a complete *&@*@! (bleep) out of no where and I don't really know why." Of course now my ultimate goal is to dig in deep with her... but that was my goal way before she said that. Cause I kind of like her. Now it's just even more challenging and fun. Ryan said, "Warning: I don't let people in."  Oh, really?  I said, "Warning I attract bad luck and broken things, but I give lots of hugs." As each person talked, we were able to affirm each other; laugh; listen intently; and see a little bit of ourselves in everyone at the table. I have come to realize there is a difference between just hanging out with people and truly being in relationship with people. Jackie and Steve have taught me what it looks like to be in real relationship with people. To have conversations that matter. For that, my life has been forever changed. Thank you for loving me well and teaching me how to be real Jackie.

Not Without Hope:

(As I sat with a dear, beloved friend of mine this week who miscarried for the third time this year. *She wishes to remain anonymous, so if you know who she is and you leave a comment, please protect her identity.* We cried and cried and cried and said good-bye to her unborn baby who had lived in her belly for seven weeks. The baby she had already seen a picture of. Seven inches long and a little heart beating 126 times per minute. Right there in her bathroom, the life ended. And in the most crude, cruel, gesture of life I have ever seen with my own eyes, my friend had to sit there until she could work up the courage to flush the toilet. To say good-bye to another life she dreamed of mothering. To wait for the bleeding to stop. And I swear, I thought my heart would never stop bleeding for her. I have dreamed about it every night this week; woken up in a tsunami of pain and sadness. I have shed a million tears. But there in her bathroom, with her eyes locked deeply into mine, my sweet friend softly, courageously, and gracefully said...)

You know, Jen, God is still good.

So to my friend- Not Without Hope- thank you for showing me the most beautiful picture of faith I have ever seen in my whole entire life. Your strength in the midst of suffering, your faith in God's goodness when you yourself were robbed of another tiny life, your hope when you had every right to give up and give in... it has changed something deep within me. Thank you for showing me the face of Jesus so clearly, that I can't stop thinking of Him.

Home Movies

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To Izzy in California and Christina in Pompano Beach, Florida... Please, please, please go sit in the sun for me and tell it to hurry up and come back to Texas because I am dying without it! I am jealous of you coastal folks, but happy that somebody, somewhere is having a frost-free day!

To Kara in flood-struck Australia... please invest in a life jacket and remind your husband how amazing spring time in Texas is! On second thought- maybe just remind him about places like California and Pompano Beach, Florida.

And to answer your question: How does one entertain an apartment trapped almost two year old all day? Well, first and foremost I relinquish all prior pre-child knowledge of any books that say T.V. is bad for children. We imbibe on Yo Gabba Gabba, Sesame Street, Wonder Pets, and anything else that seems remotely wholesome for her brain development and social skills. I relinquish control over my thrifty desire to conserve toilet paper. When you are trapped in a small apartment with an almost two-year-old for days on end, sometimes the best thing in the world is to let them run wild with a roll of toilet paper. We read. Work on flash cards. Play doll house, tent, and doll house some more. We pull out all the pots and pans and fill them with water and food coloring so she can see what she is "cooking." And we take multiple baths a day. The entire process of a bath, if properly executed, can kill up to an hour of your day! When I finally hit my breaking... let's be honest, I just feed her. Because feeding her and putting her in front of the T.V. gives me about 30 minutes of sanity. I sit next to her on the couch and fall asleep wondering what it must be like to be the lady with 18 kids? And I wake up to her little voice saying "More golfizzzzz please Mommy!!!!"

And I take an inordinate amount of home videos for the grandparents and guys in the band...

The Good Morning's!

The Cutest Roadie Ever!

Here's to hoping the snow days are almost over...