Politics...

Oh no, don't let me get up on my soapbox. Politics...what a dirty little word. I guess I'll cut myself off there tonight before I get myself into trouble...

My Little Man

I know I was warned how childhood flicks by with the blink of an eye and I'm starting to appreciate that comment. In the past 8 months, my little guy has transformed from a sweet little kindergartner at the little church preschool to a teeth-losing, too cool, wii playing, getting ready to start 1st grader.
1st Grade...let that one sink in for a minute. Real school. No more naps and cutsie time. This is the real deal.
No more Mickey Mouse clubhouse. Cartoon network and ICarly are cool. No more "fancy shirts" like a Target polo. Graphic tee's only. I don't get to style his hair anymore. He wants to do it.
This is all alot for a mom to take in. At least there's still plenty of little boy in him still. Cuddles and book reading (ONLY in the privacy of our home, but I'll take it), playing cars, Candyland still gets a few rounds, and a lollipop is still an exciting treat.
So, here's to hanging onto the threads of childhood and true innocence. How sweet these times are.

Beached Whale Baby

Just returned not too long ago from going to the beach in NC. There are so many things I do love about the beach. The salt air, the sound of the waves, the hot weather. But, I think all that beachiness brings out the inner whale in me.
For some reason, its okay to start drinking beer on the beach at noon to wash down the entire bag of Doritos I'm hording. I'll eat things dripping in cheese and finish it off with a chocolatini. The snack cupboard is getting more of a workout than my body is. WHY is this?
So, here we go. Back on the bandwagon. My apologies to those of you who own Frito Lay stock as you should see a significant dip as I cut off my chip buying privileges. I will NOT be a beached whale unable to stuff one leg into a pair of jeans once the temperature drops off to 15. Mumu's just don't do as well in snow drifts.
So, here we go...

Angelina Jolie

I get the majority of my news from my YAHOO homepage. This isn't because I think it is a reputable news source, its because by the time I get to the kitchen and sip the first of my coffee, the kids have already attacked and the only possible hope of a second peaceful sip is to quickly turn on anything Disney. Which in turn has me firing up my Droid to see if anyone gives a shit and has sent me an email outside of trying to sell me Viagra or those annoying lose all your luck and your life's going to pot of you don't forward this chain email to your closest 1000 friends.

Today, Angelina Jolie was staring back at me with some crappy story about how her daughter wants to be a boy. Whatever. No matter your opinion of Jolie, she really is stunning. The thing I admire most about her is her "this is what you get" attitude. I love that. I want to be that. For now, I'll have to just read stories about her and catch some pics when she tops the YAHOO headlines. One day, I'll get to the "this is what you get" stage. No, really, all you nay-sayers...I will. Plus, I think tattoos are really cool...

Happy Frickin' Birthday to Me!

Another year...another birthday. Well, I'll tell you what. Birthdays are GREAT. There is no other day I can truly claim as my own. If I want to goto brunch, I'm not elbow fighting 500,000 other moms to get the last piece of cold bacon. If I want to open a gift, I don't have to wait and oooh and aaaah over others as they slowly lift the tape on each corner of their precious box in order to "save and reuse" the wrapping paper. (And don't even THINK of throwing that bow out!) If I want to read my book, I can pull out the "its my birthday" card and prop my feet up guilt-free and get lost in some garbage fictional world.

So, birthdays are great. So what if its another number closer to 100. The reality is, this is a great time of life. I can order wine and actually know what I am doing. I can cut off an entire line of ice cream eaters to order an emergency water for a sick child without batting an eye. I can dress up in stilettos and not look like I'm trying on my mom's shoes. I can pretty much do anything and not be looked at like "she's too young". And the other stuff? The "she's too old for that" stuff? Well, for those things I still like to do, that's what I have kids for...its because they wanted to do it.

So, here's to another year older. The good news is E thinks I'm 23 and D is convinced I'm 16 because that's how old you have to be to drive a car. Oh, and the cake? It's a "monster (dinosaur) with a pink ti era holding yellow flowers", which is truly a mommy of boys cake...Cheers!

Practicing Self Control

Self control...what a concept. I wish I were one of those people that could just spout out what came to mind. But no...somewhere along the line I was taught to say the right things and to act the right way. I want to stand on the roof of my car with the music blaring and scream into the night. But, I won't. Society has taught me that is inappropriate behavior, and sadly, I succumb to the inner walls of my proper world. I want to have tattoos of wise words and Pegasuses drawn all over my back and down my arms, across my neck, and down to the tips of my fingers...but I won't...wouldn't look proper. I want to free hand paint my walls with trees and birds and music notes...but I won't...

Bless my Sweet Pony!

So, Audra the rider is back in the saddle. Yahoo! Miss Princess Ana is doing GREAT. I am so proud of her. It feels so good to view the world from atop my pony again.

Now, the part I'm not loving so much is the post-winter fit of my breeches. Skin hugging pants just don't look as good in March as they do in July. Plus, the arena I'm working in has mirrors...oh yes...walls of them...the horror of it. I try not to look as I go trotting by. Thankfully, my confidence is still building so I don't have much time to take my "eyes off the road" and gawk at myself.

Oh well...thankfully warm weather and riding make me crave smoothies and lean protein instead of McDonald's and gooey pizza. So, here's to being back in the saddle, and cheers to losing some saddle bags. ; )