I'll Write Tomorrow

I love to write, so I usually post something at least once a day.

However, tonight I'm dancing in a charity event in front of a few hundred people. And I'm nervous. And I can't eat. And I'm having a bad hair day. And my husband says I'm irritable.

Who me?

More tomorrow.

Maybe Some Other Time

Our world seems to be on fast-forward.

Too much rushing around, heating things up in the microwave, and passing each other by.

I often wish that we could slow down enough to really enjoy our days. To listen to one another, to watch our children play, to admire, and take a deep breath. I'm just as guilty as anyone.

Last night, my four-year-old brought his favorite football jersey to me and asked to change his clothes. As I pulled it over his head, I admired how adorable he looked with tousled hair and feathery lashes. I watched Hayden itch his nose, then look at me with a grin that I've caught on camera countless times. Before he ran off to rough-house with his brother, I stopped him.

"Hayden, I love you. And I just want you to know that Mommy will always be here to take care of you."

Hayden paused, then stared at me with a puzzled look in his eye. Confusion appeared to be replaced by worry when he said...

"You mean you don't have a job?"

In a second, our moment was over. Hayden thought I was telling him I would physically "always be here." I explained again, he nodded, then ran off to play.

It was nice while it lasted.

Two Plus Two is Four

Boiled eggs.

I love em.

In my effort to cut back on my nearly ALL-carb diet, I decided to boil a couple last night. I planned to consume one once they were cooked, and the other egg I planned to refridgerate until breakfast tomorrow while I'm on the air.

Oh, how plans change.

My 7-year-old spotted the eggs and asked if he could have one for a bedtime snack. "Sure," I responded.

Griffin then hugged me tight and said, "Mom, you're the best. You made that other one for me to take in my lunch to school, didn't you?"

"You bet," I told him. How did that happen? I started with two, lost one, and when all was said and done, had zero, and was still hungry. Yet, I scored points in the good Mom department.

And then I boiled two more.

I've Got a New Nickname

I'm at work.

I'm at work with a water bottle that I quickly grabbed as I left the house this morning.

Sitting in the studio, I noticed that my 7-year-old had taken a Sharpie and written his name on the bottle. Oops...he must have had plans for this particular one.

Griffin apparently decided that writing "Griffin" would be too predictable, because he signed the bottle...

"G-Money."

Allllrighty.

Tough Crowd

Did you miss Hazel this morning?

If so, she dished that many people have criticized Jessica Simpson's (fuller?) figure after she performed in Florida, Sunday.

Jessica dropped by our studio back in August, and couldn't have been nicer. Not to mention, in great shape. I'm not jumping on this band-wagon, after all, which one of us DIDN'T gain a few over the holidays? Maybe it's the high-waisted jeans. I've never been a fan of those.

At any rate, her trainer has her back, saying Jessica has curves and remains as sexy as ever.

Enough said.

Things I Don't Like

We all have things we like, and things we don't. Here's my "don't" list, for silly and obvious reasons.

Flat Diet Pepsi

Being asked to pull forward at a drive-thru window

Lipstick on my chin when eating a hamburger

The smell of burnt toast

The little dark piece at the bottom of a banana

A new bag of potato chips only half-full

Leaving a shirt in the dryer too long

Popsicles with freezer-burn

Running out of shampoo in the shower

Not being carded when buying wine

A computer freezing up

Missing one ingredient when cooking

Recognizing a face, but forgetting a name...and you have to introduce them

Kiss Your Children

This was the message on my dance instructor's Starbucks cup today. Loved it so much, I thought I'd share...

Do not kiss your children so they will kiss you back, but so they will kiss their children and their childrens children.

By Noah Benshea

Huh? What Did You Say?

I'm either getting older, or the stereo systems in restaurants around Indianapolis have broken volume dials.

I'm guessing it's NOT the stereos.

For the second time in a week, my family and I have sat down at a table, only to have the music on the overhead speaker drown out our conversation. Even my 7-year-old said tonight, "What is the DEAL?" I mean, not that there's anything wrong with hearing Britney Spears baby-talk her way through "Oops, I Did it Again," but I don't need to feel the vibration of every inaudible moan ringing in my ear.

Sadly, I politely asked our waiter if he could turn it down, "just a hair."

A hair would not have been enough. A hair would have only reduced the noise to bar-level, like the days when I would go with a friend, then stand there and pretend to read lips because I couldn't hear a thing she was saying. I figured if I could get him to turn the volume down even a nanometer, it would be better than having to write down my order to ensure it would come back accurate. I figured I would take what I could get.

To my surprise, our waiter said, "I sure will. I was thinking it was a little loud myself." And that's from the mouth of a kid who didn't even look twenty. For a brief moment, I didn't feel so old.

Moment over.

Stalling at Bedtime

Sleep.

Apparently, my youngest thinks it's overrated, because he puts it off every night.

By that, I mean we tuck in our 4-year-old, and he isn't sawing logs for another 45 minutes. Instead, he spends that time in and out of his bed for various reasons, some of which are rather comical.

He doesn't need a thing, but he is looking for ways to stall his inevitable dozing.

Usually, Hayden's reasons involve the normal kid requests, such as "I need a drink," "I forgot to take my medicine," or "I just wanted to tell you I love you."

Yet, this week the excuses for getting up have been almost entertaining, though we won't tell him that.

Things like, "I needed some cream," when I caught him in the bathroom applying antibiotic ointment on...nothing.

Or, "I'm hot, so I want you to take my covers off me." Yet, he did that himself when he got up.

"Sorry, Mom, but I needed to make sure I flushed the toilet," when I, again, caught him in the bathroom.

Then there was last night. Hayden got up within five minutes of being tucked in and said, "I had a bad dream."

I guess it didn't dawn on him that you have to fall asleep FIRST.

I'll Stick with Radio

My dancing shoes are getting quite the workout.

I agreed to be part of a charity event called "Dancing Like The Stars," and it's next week. However, a more-appropriate title would have been "Falling like the Stars," because chances are high that I'll be doing a faceplant. Yet, I'm having a blast, and it's quite the workout.

Cross your fingers.

At any rate, my instructor has been super nice, super patient, and just plain super. He's listened to me rant about bad days, and he also doesn't let me off the hook on the tough moves. And my posture could use some work, if you asked Mike.

Here's a photo from our last rehearsal. Got my outfit in the mail this week. Let's just say I'll be purchasing some double-sided tape.

And eating less.

I Won't Delete This One

I attended a visitation last night for a dear friend of my family who passed on.

I wanted to pay my respects, so I made the short trip to my hometown. Greg stayed behind with the boys to take care of a 4-year-old who had the flu.

The gathering was held in the same funeral home where we paid tribute to my father five months ago. I took a deep breath as I entered the door, and as I spoke with the family, we talked about our children, and how they get us through these heartbreaking times. And how, if it weren't for their innocent ways, the grief would be unbearable.

Driving home, tears stung my eyes as I remembered the things about my dad that I liked the most, how he always ate Pringles potato chips, how he often tripped and stumbled like I do now, and how he teased his grandson by saying, "How you doin, Joe?" only for him to scream, "My name's not Joe, it's Griffin!"

As my emotions got the best of me, I received a text on my phone that read, "Hi, we miss you...Love, Griffin." So, I wrote back, "Miss you MORE. Love you, buddy." And I smiled when the next text came through, which read...

"Love you MORE."

That earlier conversation about kids getting you through the tough times couldn't have been more true.

Why Are They Staring?

I have a problem.

I have many, I know. Yet, it's very possible that somewhere between having my second child and eating countless packs of chocolate Necco wafers, I lost my sanity.

It dawned on me last night around 8:45 pm, as I walked out of Michael's craft store. That was the moment when the automatic doors parted and the cold air hit my face. And I realized...

I was wearing my pj's.

Let me explain.

I came home from a long day, and threw on my pj's. The pj's with penguins on the pants that tie at the waist. I was spending time with the kids when Griffin told me he needed 100 pieces of yarn for a project at school. No problem, we have yarn.

Correction, we used to have yarn. It would be too easy for it to actually be where I last left it in the craft supplies.

So, I announced to Greg that I was making a yarn-run and would be right back. Sort of like a beer-run, but no chance of having to show ID, and ultimately, no beer.

I must admit, I laughed most of the way home about what I was wearing. When Greg caught of glimpse of me, he said...

"You wore that?"

Kids Night and Bubbles The Clown

We attempted a Kid's Night at a local restaurant, Monday.

I say "attempted" because the last time we tried this it ended in disaster. Meltdown-central. And like many parents, I told myself I would NEVER go back.

I lied.

So, round-two this week, and this outing turned out to be ok for the most part. For the "most part" would be the key phrase here. Most of our dinner was uneventful, with the exception of four trips to the bathroom by my youngest.

He is either really bored at dinner, or has the tiniest bladder in toddler history.

Kids Night means kids eat free, which is why I like it. They like it because they get a balloon shaped into an animal that they can wear on their head, yet won't fit in the car, and face-paintings that inevitably end up on their pillow. But, hey, it's Kids Night.

Hayden proudly showed me the Colts helmet that Bubbles the clown painted on his hand, then announced, again, that nature was calling. So, his daddy made that familiar walk to the restroom.

Upon returning to the table, my four-year-old was crying. Turns out, he decided to go hand-fishing in the toilet. Why? I'm still asking myself that one. The tears were the result of Hayden's Colts helmet disappearing down the drain after a good hand-scrubbing.

Bubbles the Clown got word of this, and offered to repaint the helmet. She grabbed my hand and said, "Remember these times, Mom, because they go fast." Yet, Hayden got his own piece of advice. Bubbles winked at him and said...

"And no more fishin' in the toilet."

The Parenting Roadtrip

Once I had kids, it seems as if I hopped on the Parenting Freeway and never exited.

I've changed, but for the better I think.

Priorities certainly change. I no longer fantasize about being a belly-dancer like I did as a child. Instead, the days are centered around the boys and their needs, just like many other parents.

Some may say it is a tiring responsibility, and some may argue that they no longer have time to themselves. Been there. STILL there, as a matter of fact. Conversations get interrupted, the days are never-ending, and some days I could almost swear I'm a referee, not a mother.

Yet, each day, there are reminders of why I'm glad I traveled this path in life. Such as...

At the doctor's office, when Griffin grabbed my arm and put it around his waist to calm his nerves.

Waking up to a kiss from my youngest, who had walked into my room looking like Linus with his blanket dragging behind him.

Being handed an interesting-looking piece of artwork by my youngest who said, "This is for you, Mom. Will you show your friends at work?"

Hearing my oldest tell a friend, "Want one of my Mom's cookies? She makes the best."

Hearing my youngest singing in the bathroom as he stands on a stool and washes his hands for a good five minutes.

Watching my oldest bashfully shove his hands in his pockets as he orders for himself at restaurants.

Watching my youngest scan the bleachers for his Daddy at soccer practice, then grin and wave when he finds him.

And finally, having my oldest tell me the name of his best friend, only to have my youngest say, "I thought I was your best friend, Gwiff."

I like the Parenting Freeway. It's, hands-down, the best road-trip I've taken.

It's Enough to Make You Crazy

I'm having trouble keeping track of my stuff.

I discovered over the weekend that some of my belongings or items that belong to my kids are inevitably left behind at the various homes we visit.

I realized this after making the dough for chocolate-chip cookies and coming up empty on my search for a baking sheet.

I obviously HAVE one. Just not at my house.

Thinking back, I remembered using it as a heatblocker during the holidays when I took a dish from the oven to my sister's home. So, Michelle...I need that back.

But, it doesn't stop there.

Griffin had a playdate at a friend's house recently, and we realized that he left his Ipod Shuffle behind. So, we've made the call to go pick it up.

Greg told me last night that he couldn't find our oldest son's new favorite school sweatshirt. We have it narrowed down to a friend's house or Mommy left it behind on the bleachers at soccer practice.

You'd think all of these forgetful moments would result in less clutter at my home. After all, less stuff means more space. Except, that space is now occupied by "other" stuff that guests to my home have left behind.

I have my Mom's curling iron, a bag of stuff that belongs to my sister, (trade ya for my baking sheet!), and my niece's hair barrettes that I threaten to use on the boys when they aren't behaving. Ok, not really.

There was also a JCPenney bag that I think belongs to my sister, Kristen, but I gave that to my mom to pass on. One less thing at my home, yet Mom's clutter-scale has now increased by one.

These are the things I think about.

Breakin' Out the Hand Sanitizer

Sick.

That's the diagnosis for my two boys, who both got antibiotics today.

The verdict? Sinus infections. I had a hunch that it was, considering both have been hacking throughout the night. Yet, kids will be kids. They won't admit that they don't feel good.

Despite the fact that they can't breathe through their nose, which makes my four-year-old angry when he tries to suck his thumb, both boys won't admit they don't feel good.

Despite the fact that their cheeks are flushed, and they reach for a Kleenex more often than I reach for my Starbucks cup, they say they aren't sick.

Despite the fact that minor occurences tend to send them over the edge and our youngest had a meltdown in aisle 10 at CVS, they say they couldn't be better. By the way, sorry about the bottles of Brut aftershave he knocked over in his efforts to escape time alone.

Despite the fact that they've been in their pj's the entire day, pirates for one and karate for the other, and my oldest has sneezed four times while I write this, they still say, "We're fine, Mooooooooooom."

And despite the fact that the boys haven't eaten a fourth of what they normally inhale, they say "we don't neeeeeed medicine."

They're troopers, for sure. Until it's time to tuck them in. You can bet they'll pull the sick card, and say...

"Since we don't feel good, can we sleep in your bed?"

Where Are They Now?

Sometimes we get so busy in life that the days seem to fade into each other.

But that doesn't mean I don't have moments here and there where I wonder about people who, for some reason or other, I've lost touch. We go all down our own path in life and grow apart, yet, some still cross my mind...

Like Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, who used to live across the street from where I grew up. I always enjoyed going to their home to trick-or-treat, but lost touch with them after I went to college and my parents moved away.

Or my old penpal from Alabama, Alonna Whitlock. We met on vacation and stayed in touch through snail-mail for many years. That is, until we graduated high school and didn't take the time to write.

Or George, my former employer at the dry-cleaners where I worked one summer during college. He taught me a lot about hard work. Possibly the toughest job I've ever had, pressing men's jackets in a steamy room. George was strict, yet honest.

Or Mrs. Records, my 4th grade teacher in elementary school. I was mesmerized with her big hoop earrings she wore, and always admired her sense of fashion. Mrs. Records was hip to a little 4th grader like me.

Or my nurse, 'Michelle,' who was in the delivery room with Greg and I when our first child was born. She was awesome, and put me at ease. It's odd to have her on our home video, only to never see her again.

And finally, the foster child I used to visit four years ago. I was assigned his case as a volunteer for a local organization, and he was eight. No family visited him. His smile could light up the room, and after a year, he was eventually sent out of state. Yet, I wonder how he's doing.

Everyone has met someone in life who makes an impact on them. Old or young, there are people we meet who leave some sort of lasting impression, or life lesson to be used later down the road.

What about you?

We're Keepin' Him

Today, we celebrate Jim Denny's 20th year on the air at WFMS.

Jim is my co-host on the show. I've worked with him for many years. He's a staple of the broadcasting industry in Indiana, and has a voice that distinguishes him from all the others.

Be sure to tune in and hear some special friends honor Jim for his longevity in a not-so-stable business. Friends like Kellie Pickler, Toby Keith, Sara Evans, and Montgomery Gentry will join us to celebrate.

Other special guests?

Indiana Governor Mitch Daniels will be in studio, along with longtime friend Tom Zupancic, of the Indianapolis Colts. Chuck Lofton, Julia Moffett, and Bruce Kopp of WTHR Channel 13 will also be a part of our tribute.

And it's no party without Hazel! She joins us with a special message as well.

In honor of Jim, here is my favorite inspirational poem that I have featured as an American Spirit on the show. I am lucky to work with friends, and Jim has always been a positive influence who comes to work with a smile on his face EVERY day.

Congrats, Jimmy.

TO A KEEPER

Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away...never to return before we can say good-bye. So...while we have it...it's best we love it.....and care for it .....and fix it when it's broken.... and heal it when it's sick.

This is true.....for marriage.....and friends...and old cars.....and children with bad report cards.....and dogs with bad hips and aging parents.....and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.

There are just some things that make life important, so we keep them close.

Some things we keep.

You're a keeper, Jim.

I'll Stick With Bananas

What would that grocery list look like?

Bread

Milk

Soup

Ice Cream

Cheese

Lunchmeat

Curved yellow fruit

You Don't Say?

Phrases.

Sitting in a recent meeting here at work, I heard someone say "It is what it is."

I nodded my head, but I was REALLY thinking, "So, what is it?" I know what the phrase means, it just sounds silly.

Another one that has been used quite a bit, especially recently, is "That's how I roll." I've even caught myself saying it, but I'm not sure why I felt the need to tell someone how I travel when I'm in my car. Isn't it the same for all of us?

I've been known to have a few crutch phrases, ones that I often catch myself using. Five come to mind:

Long story short

Winner winner, chicken dinner

As a matter of fact

To tell the truth

Okie Dokie, Artichokee

My husband has his phrase whittled down to one word. He says 'seriously' way more than we tell the kids to use their indoor voices in a day. In fact, I'm certain he says 'seriously' every fourth word during a conversation.

Seriously.

So, there you have it...the phrases we can't get out of our heads.

What's yours?

Just My Two Cents

American Idol.

I tuned in last night, along with countless others.

I made a few observations by the time the two-hour season premiere had ended. Some disturbing, some surprising.

The surprising was how many times I cried, yes, cried for some of the contestants whose own emotions got the best of them. Here I am, a 36-year-old mom of two, crying like a baby for a teen who has just been told he is "going to Hollywood." I haven't done that since having my first child and watching Snuggle commercials on tv during maternity leave.

I had to go hunting for a box of Puffs after watching the contestant who welled up, along with his relatives, when he said this was his chance for his family to have a better life. His voice was good, but if I'm basing my votes on Kleenex alone, this guy's the winner.

Other noteables?

Randy Jackson sports a watch with a face that is as big as the one in my kitchen. No chance of him being late with that thing tickin on his wrist. Stylish, yes, but it's got to be heavy.

What's up with Simon's hair?

Sort of looked like a squirrel sat on top of his head, with this flat valley running through it. But, that's Simon, who seems to wear a T-shirt to every episode of American Idol. Someone needs to tell the guy that this show is televised. And I won't even comment on the girl in the bikini.

Poor thing must have gotten overheated.

More TV Time for Taylor

Taylor Swift is trading in her microphone for a television script!

Watch for the 19-year-old on an upcoming episode of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, on CBS. Taylor will play the edgy role of a teenager whose family runs a seedy Las Vegas motel.

She's everywhere these days!

Some Reflecting

It was a stressful weekend at our home.

Lots of time-outs, due to lots of arguments between the boys. Full moon, anyone? After weekends like these, it's easy to question yourself and wonder if you're doing the right thing as a parent.

We certainly try.

When things get hectic, I remind myself of the little things that make the kids who they are, those small observations about my two pint-sized men.

I wrote this for them...

Spidery lashes and eyebrows that feather

Your moods seem to change as quick as the weather

Half-eaten apples and band-aids on knees

Constant reminders to always say please

Secret handshakes and milk-mustached grins

Toast with grape jelly that drips down your chins

Fake-shaving like Daddy, and snuggling in bed

Wearing the Steak N Shake hats on your head

Rock, paper, scissors and guttural laughs

Tall shampoo-mohawks during your baths

Sweatbands on wrists, and NFL on tv

And it looks like you both are resembling me

You're brothers, you're friends, a bundle of noise

My never-tiresome two feisty boys.

He's Not Worried About The Economy

Tonight was soccer night for my youngest.

He loves going, and each week, he counts down the days till he can sport his cool jersey and oversized shorts. And it was the first time the coach taught the kids to bounce the ball on the top of their heads. Most of the boys and girls giggled and found it funny.

Not mine.

When one of the coaches noticed my son doing more observing than bouncing, he came up to Hayden and showed him how it's done by softly dropping the ball on his noggin. I don't think the coach got the reaction he was hoping for.

Hayden said, "Hey, you just messed up my hair!"

Makes Scents

There are certain smells that trigger the memory and take me back. Doesn't mean it's always a good memory. But, a memory, no less. And they are...

Final Net hairspray

Baby powder

A crisp dollar bill

A candle that has just been blown out

Sunblock

Obsession cologne

Seabreeze astringent

Rubber cement

A neighbor's grill

My grandmother's home

A dry-erase marker

The orange sawdust-like stuff used in schools when students got sick

Vick's vapor rub

Cookies in the oven

A wet bathing suit

Puppy breath

Movie popcorn

Baby shampoo

I Got Married...Again

Hayden is four.

Ever since we attended a wedding for friends on Thanksgiving weekend, he's been a bit mesmerized with "tying the knot."

He's been using the terms 'wife' and 'husband' more often, and when he kisses me goodnight, he lingers a bit longer. Very cute. During a recent trip to the bank, he asked me again about the wedding we attended, wanting to know why she carried flowers and why they danced first.

Last week, I told Hayden it was time for bed and we needed to go upstairs. He surprisingly didn't fight me on it, but had one request.

"Hook your arm in mine, Mom." He then told me to walk slow, and I quickly realized his intentions.

I played along by humming the wedding march and when we got to the foot of the stairs, Hayden's cheeks got rosy red and he grinned at the floor.

I love little moments like this, but they don't last long. The warm-fuzzy was over when Hayden grabbed his privates and shouted, "I gotta peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! And off he went.

I guess you could say I was left standing at the altar.

Don't Let Life Pass You By

Haven't we all wished we could walk away from our responsibilities, just for a day?

Maybe stay in bed and watch cheezy tv shows in our pj's, eating an ice cream sundae for lunch? Maybe trade places with somebody else?

Sure we have.

I remember thinking as a child that I couldn't WAIT to be an adult, who doesn't have homework and teachers to please. Then I became an adult. Oops...sort of forgot that adults have bills to pay and chores to do.

There have been times when I've felt overwhelmed with work, family duties, school volunteering, etc, that I've actually envied my grandmother, who is retired. But, that's no way to live life.

Truth be told, I'm sure she longs for the days when she was still raising her kids, because the days get long and lonely. What's all this mean?

The grass is always greener on the other side.

People with straight hair wish it was curly, and those with curly locks break out the flatiron.

Those who are pale want to be tan.

The height-challenged would like to be taller.

Flat-chested women get, ahem, enhancements, and the entire Dallas Cowboys Cheerleading squad look nothing like they did when they first auditioned.

I can remember as a child complaining about my big feet to my mother. She would calmly smile and say, "But you're tall, and if they were petite, your feet wouldn't hold you up."

In other words, she didn't deny my cave-like boats, but told me to focus on my better qualities. So, take note of what's around you. The good times might pass you by.

Maybe you're living the good life and don't even know it.

Ever Wonder Where Kids Get It?

My oldest son is 7, and he was a little preoccupied at dinner last night.

We dined out, and he brought one of his library books and notepad with him. Seemed odd, since he never has homework on the weekend. Then, out of the blue, Griff sighed, saying...

"It sure will take some time to copy all twelve chapters."

WHAT?

All twelve chapters? Seemed a little excessive for homework. I scanned what he'd written so far, and he began by copying the book's title, as well as "Foreword written by blah blah blah," Copyright 1992.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Well, my library book is due back on Monday, and I didn't finish reading it. So, I'm making myself a copy to keep at home."

Gotta admire his determination. Here I used to pull all-nighters in college writing book reports the night before they were due, and my son was WILLING to copy a book verbatim, in pencil no less, by CHOICE.

If it weren't for the fact that the boy was a less-clumsy spitting image of myself, I'd wonder if I'd brought the wrong baby home at birth.

Nevertheless, I told Griff about a wonderful invention called a "copy machine" that makes copies for you to save you time. Not to mention another little important term called "copyright." But, Griff wasn't impressed.

"No thanks, Mom."

But, it didn't last. He got sidetracked by a gigantic ice cream sundae with a mountain of blue whipped cream, and never made it past chapter two.

Can't blame him for tryin.

We All Have 'Em

Awkward moments.

Those times in our day when you don't know what to do, or what to say. We all have them.

Like the moment when your child's friend asks you to "assist" with the toilet paper in the bathroom, and yes I'm talking in code.

Or when you are asked to wear a paper gown in the doctor's office, and you feel silly swinging your feet back and forth while wondering if your doctor took a lunch break.

Or when you think an acquaintance may be pregnant, but you're not quite sure. You don't want to ask, but you don't want to appear uninterested.

When the person in front of you at the grocery checkout realizes they "forgot" something, so you have to wait for them to run and get it. They apologize, and you say "no problem," because you really care that they got that jar of mayo.

When you're trying on clothes in a dressing room, and other shoppers you've never met can see your legs from the calf down. Yet they don't even know your name.

When you order in a drive-thru, but can't find your money as you approach the window.

When you have to ask what a particular food item is at a pitch-in because you don't recognize it.

And finally, when you leave the house to do a quick errand with no makeup, hoping you won't run into anyone you know. And you see your ex.

Gotta love it.

Things I've Never Done

Sauerkraut.

Never had it.

The guys at work were surprised to learn this little fact. The smell alone has been about all I can stomach, so forget consuming it. But, there are many things I haven't done.

Such as:

Snow-ski.

Travel to Maine.

Roller-blade.

Change a tire.

Wall-paper.

Bake a 3-layer cake.

Make Lasagna.

Wear black nail-polish.

Wear glasses.

Receive a speeding ticket.

Get Botox.

Be fired.

Live outside of Indiana.

Take a hot-air balloon ride.

Go scuba-diving.

Eat oysters.

Own a laptop.

Just a few...some I know I'll never do, like the oyster-thing, and some I hope I don't HAVE to experience, like getting the pink slip.

What about you?

Are These Sold at Pottery Barn?

Here's the new sign I would like to post on my bathroom door. Keep in mind, I live with three males.

Enough said.

A Letter To Dad

Today marks five months since my father has passed. Here is my latest journal entry:

Dear Dad, I'm writing this letter to tell you that I think of you every day, and miss you even more. Many people who sent me cards when you passed told me to "find strength in my memories," which is what I try to do.

Here are a few of my favorites...

How when I was younger, you would talk me into giving you footrubs for packs of grape Bubble Yum, and I would jump at the chance.

How you stayed up late helping me make a lamp for a science fair at school. I admired how you knew what to do and was proud to turn in that project.

How you saved the letters that your daughters wrote to you from the airplane when Mom, Michelle, Kris, and I went on Spring break. You couldn't join us until later because it was tax season, and I would cry during part of those flights.

How you loved the hamburgers from a local pub. I remember bringing those to you with Mom and Michelle and having lunch at your office. I met you there for lunch a few years ago, and they didn't quite taste the same. Yet, the company was just as good.

How as a teen you scolded me for wearing jeans with rips in both knees to a neighbor's graduation open house. I tried explaining it was the look at the time, and you wouldn't have any of it.

How that same neighbor told me after you died how you would offer to drive her home, even though she lived only three houses away.

How you would tease me that people in town would ask if you're Deborah Honeycutt's father, and you would reply with a laugh, "Never heard of her."

How when we danced at my wedding, you held my hand in yours and led the way. And how I could tell you were a little embarrassed that eyes were upon us.

How you attached a silver pencil sharpener to the wall out in the garage, and I would run out there to sharpen my Number two when doing homework.

How I rarely saw you cry, yet I remember you doing so when we went back to see Grandma when she died. I will never forget seeing you shed some tears for your mother.

How every Valentine's Day since I was a teen, you would send all of your daughters flowers. A vase of three red roses, because you had three girls. And how, for many years, your flowers were the only ones I'd receive.

How when I would call you, I would say, "Hey Dad, it's your favorite." And you would say, "Shel? Kristen?" knowing it was me all along.

I could go on and on, and you would be glad to know that both Griffin and Hayden remember you daily.

Out of the blue yesterday, Hayden told his doctor during an exam, "My Papaw died...he was so silly." And Griff described you better than anyone during a recent conversation. He sighed, and said...

"Papaw was just...the BEST."

What Was I Thinking?

Ever had one of those moments you wish you could take back?

A stuck-your-foot-in-your-mouth-occasion? A time when you wish you could roll back the clock? That happened to me.

Tune in tomorrow morning, we'll have all the details at 7:10 am.

Noodles and Meltdowns

All parents have them.

Disastrous encounters at restaurants with their children.

And my turn was last night. Somehow, someway, my four-year-old traded places with another child, one who might possibly be from another planet.

We were dining at the Old Spaghetti Factory, and it started with the coloring sheet they bring to kids. Hayden began coloring away, but welled up with tears when spaghetti sauce from his entree spilled over the side of his bowl and landed on his artwork.

I guess the boy gets it honest. His reaction was similiar to the one I would have if Starbucks went belly-up, or the one his father would have if CVS had a shortage on bubble bath. Either way, it wasn't pleasant.

The kid wanted a new coloring sheet, and he wanted it NOW.

Hayden also suffered a terrible bout of "manners-amnesia," and suddenly began shoveling food in his mouth as if he was part of those hot-dog eating contests I can never watch on tv. Hayden then found humor in shaking his head back and forth as the noodles half-hanging out of his mouth were flipped all over the table.

Realizing he was in big trouble, Hayden announced he needed to go to the bathroom.

Great, considering the so-called RESTroom would be nothing but after an inconvenient trek down several flights of stairs to the ill-located potty. I told him to hold it, knowing he wasn't desperate to go, just desperate to avoid time-alone.

We finished our meal quickly, made a pit-stop in the dungeon-like bathroom, and ran for the doors faster than the Kenyans who win the Mini-Marathon, but instead of music on the way home, we listened to the longest tantrum in history. I think it just may make the record books.

The only comforting thing was knowing Hayden isn't always like this, and every parent has a less-than-proud moment in public. At least I hope. If you haven't, please don't tell me.

I choose to believe we parents aren't in this alone, which is why our kids aren't registered on Ebay.

Not yet, anyway.

Ask The Important Questions

For as long as I can remember, Greg has asked our 7-year-old the same question each time he gets out of the bathtub.

Now that he's older, he asks Griff the same question just after a shower.

Not sure how this little tradition got started, but I've quietly observed it over the years. Greg always waits till Griff has dried off and left the room, then calls him back. Here's what happens...

Greg: Hey, Griff...

Griffin: Yeah?

Greg: You feel better now that you got a bath?

Griff: DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!

It's usually followed by a rolling of the eyes and a grin that wonders why his Dad asks him that over and over.

Last night, I was helping Griff towel-dry his hair after his shower, and I had to smile when he said...

"Aren't you gonna ask me?"

Goodbye, 2008

It's 2009...hard to believe.

Time flies when we get older.

I can remember my holiday break from school lasting what seemed like forever, and these past two weeks have gone by faster than when my son hits fast-forward on parts of a movie he doesn't like.

Nevertheless, I made a list of all the things I liked about 2008. Sort of a way of finding some good in what ended up being a terrible, life-changing year, personally.

And here they are...

My nephew, Jackson, was born. His grin melts my heart.

I finally started my blog that I'd wanted to do for awhile. It's been good therapy.

Blogging about life led me to take the leap and start writing my first book. I find myself jotting down notes in line at Starbucks and while sitting at a stoplight. Yes, I've heard some honking.

I am learning how to dance the West Coast Swing for a charity event, even though I'm rather clumsy at times. Go figure.

I got in another year of working with great friends, which doesn't, well, seem like work. Makes getting up at 2:30 am that much easier.

I road-tripped with my husband and two boys three, count 'em, THREE times in one year. Twice to Florida and once to North Carolina. That means I heard "Are we there yet" a total of 31 times.

I STILL have the cell phone Greg gave me for Christmas a year ago. Oh, I lost it, but always found it, including the time I left it on the counter at Starbucks.

I read more. I've always loved to read, just like my Dad, and made more time for a good book.

I have caught up with old friends. It's true when they say "Old friends make the best friends."

I've realized, more than ever, how much I love my Mom, two sisters, and Grandma.

Last but not least, I have Greg, Griffin, and Hayden, who make life fun.

So, there you have it. I'll make notes of the good things in 2009 and check back a year from now.

Happy New Year.

I Love Your...Heart

My 7-year-old, Griffin, is about as sentimental as it gets.

Sure, every parent hopes their children will remember at least 25% of what they tell them, such as "Say thank you when you're given a gift, hold the door for others, and show compassion for friends who are sitting alone at lunch."

Anything else is an added bonus, though "don't pick your nose" wouldn't hurt, either. I'm pretty certain my youngest son missed that memo somewhere along the way.

Last night, we went ice-skating and like many of us on the ice, Griffin was having some trouble. It was our first time, and I think he was initially disappointed that his legs were like wet noodles. I tried telling him that the guy in the orange shirt had been there a few dozen times before.

Griff had a deathgrip on my arm while he wobbled, and did several faceplants. Once, he took me down with him.

Later, as we unlaced our skates, Griff said, "Are you okay from falling, Mom? I hope you're not mad that I went down so many times." Goodness, no.

That night, as I made out my grocery list, I asked him, "Do you like the crinkled fries you had at your friend's house this week, or the smiley fries Mommy gets at the store?"

Griff was silent for a bit, then said...

"Either one, Mom. I like both. I just don't want to hurt your feelings."

I love Griffin a bunch, but I love his heart most.

Small Moments

Ever since I lost my Dad, life has been different. Life would be different for any one who loses a parent.

Yet, if I have to find some good, it is the small moments that don't pass me by. Maybe before, they did. Maybe before, I took them for granted, but I don't any longer.

Those small moments now define who I am and the memories I will tuck away in my heart.

Here are a few...

Walking through the family room, I spotted my youngest son with his head on Griffin's shoulder, while they watched tv.

Santa brought Griffin a new football bulletin board, and I noticed Griff had placed a photo of a classmate on it. Next to the pic, he had written directly on the cork, "Best Frind."

After Hayden opened his birthday gifts from us last week, Griff grabbed the wrapping paper and tape and disappeared. He then presented an interesting-looking gift to Hayden...an old "SORRY" game that he found in his closet. Hey, it's the thought that counts.

At the Children's Museum, my now four-year-old and I were waiting our turn at the Carousel, which sits under a "sky" of many stars. During the ride, Hayden asked, "Which star is Papaw Mike? I hope he's watching me."

Having a sad moment on Christmas Eve, the doorbell rang, and it was a UPS delivery. My friend Michelle from Georgia had sent some gifts. I've told her that as a child, I wished my name was 'Daisy.' I opened a gift box titled "To Daisy" and found a necklace with the silver flower hanging from the chain. She remembered.

Whether it's a sentimental phrase, or an act of kindness that stands out from the others, I treasure the small moments in life. Take note of them.

Life is a series of small moments, and strung together, they become our memories.

Kellie Gets Up Early Next Week

Just sitting here trying to decide what to make the kids for breakfast. They've been late sleepers during their two-week break for the holidays.

Meanwhile, it's back to work for me on Monday.

Can't remember what day, but we talk to Kellie Pickler next week. She's always a fun interview. Last time we chatted, she told us she does ONE stomach crunch a day.

The one it takes to sit up in bed.

Gotta love it.