I grew up with a peach orchard right behind my house. I first typed “literally in my back yard” but I knew you would think I was misusing/overusing the word literally – a peeve of many. Technically it was behind my back yard. But it really WAS literally my house, my yard and then acres and acres (and acres) of peach trees.
My Mom would never let us have any before the crops were picked. She made it very clear that would be stealing, even with my endless begging of “they won’t miss just ONE.”
Waiting was torture…but the day the crews came through was my favorite day of the year (well, top 10). When they left, we’d go gather the rejects. The smallest blemish would cause a peach to be rejected so there were tons discarded on the ground.
They were “stand over the sink” peaches. So juicy, you had to eat them while standing at the kitchen sink to avoid coating the kitchen table and floor in a sticky, wet mess. Mom would also put them in pretty much anything that could possibly contain a peach. She canned them, made pies, cobblers and preserves.
The day they plowed down the orchard to build a housing development was a very sad day indeed. I have always missed those trees.
Each peach season I scour every farmer’s market stand I drive by looking for peaches that live up to the perfect-peaches-from-my-back-yard standard. It’s a rarity to find one that does.
Last year I planted 2 trees and guess what? Peaches are actually growing! Even with my black thumb that kills all that is green.
I now have a peach orchard LITERALLY in my back yard. Yes, it counts as an orchard in my book.
And I don’t have to wait for the rejects. That is just peachy.
I’ve been in a real funk this month. There’s a good reason funk starts with f u.
This post will probably put you in a funk too. It is long. And whiny. And depressing. You’ve been warned. OK, I’ll add a touch of funny.
zazzle.com
May is ironically awareness month for both Lyme and Lupus. The two illnesses I have. (If you know me, you know I don’t like to call it disease. Sounds too permanent). During the month there are extra articles on the internet, extra emails in my inbox and lime green and purple ribbons which all force me to think about the blasted sicknesses way too much. Sometimes I want to shout “I am already well aware. I don’t need a special month to remind me!” I know, I know. The purpose is to educate others, which is a very good thing. But it still makes me grumpy.
This year has put me in the funkiest funk because it was almost exactly 10 years ago that I started my journey to try to figure out what was wrong with me. TEN YEARS. A decade.
And I was sick long before that but 10 years ago was when I reached the point that I KNEW something was wrong and I KNEW I had to figure out what it was.
I’ve always been susceptible to infections. I was a regular strep throat patient during my childhood, with an occasional ear or sinus infection thrown in for good measure. Once I grew up, my strep did also. The more responsibility (i.e. stress) I had, the worse my infections got.
First job after college…out sick 3 days my first week.
Just married…Jim at a couples resort alone while I got multiple antibiotic shots in the tushy from a scary Jamaican doctor. At least I think they were antibiotic shots…(that story could be a blog post of its own.)
Over the top birthday party planned…strep plus a ruptured ear drum.
Baby Jake in the hospital overnight for a breathing treatment gone wrong (could be another blog post)…me in the hospital the next week with a tonsilar abscess.
These examples continued to get more and more frequent until the slightest little stress would require about a month of multiple antibiotics before I was better. I literally was sick more than I was not (yes, I DO mean literally). But once I finally kicked it, I felt great. Only until I got sick again, but those weeks of health in between were dang good.
I finally had a tonsillectomy 12 years ago because I think the doctors got tired of saying to me, “worst case of strep I’ve seen” almost every single month. But I shocked them all shortly after surgery by getting a tonsilar abscess, without tonsils. Medical mystery is not a fun term to hear when you are ill.
The surgery did help though because I was getting strep less than half as much. So I was on antibiotics much less often as well. That will be important down the road.
While I was technically sick less, I started feeling less healthy between bouts. Weird symptoms were cropping up but I’d brush them off as “nothing” and then before too long, I’d end up with strep and the weird symptoms would go away. For a while.
Fast forward to the next year when I was pregnant with Eric. The one time – well, 4 times I guess – in my life I have never had strep is during pregnancy(ies). The hormones must jump start my immune system or something. After Jimmy and Jake’s delivery, the immune battery died and the strep monster returned. After Eric was born it was different though. I went months without strep. Over a year without antibiotics during and after his birth.
The weird symptoms returned. With a vengeance. I won’t list them all, but I did come up with “pet names” for some symptoms. SFTD. No, not STD. Stupid Fat Tongue Disorder caused me to forget words, say the wrong word, say the right words in the wrong order and/or slur whatever words made it out of my mouth. It was aslway a toin coss to trip to guess what shlwould come ouf ot my…ummmm…what is the brplace with lips…ummm…eyes?…making sense no. I outwardly joked because some of the things I said really were as ridiculous as that last sentence, but inside I was very worried about what was happening to me. I reached a point before diagnosis that I avoided conversations if at all possible because it was just too humiliating when SFTD would unpredictably come and go.
Many memories of that time are fuzzy, but I clearly remember one day in May ten years ago. Eric was 6 months old, Jake was in preschool and Jimmy was in 1st grade. Getting Jimmy and Jake ready and dropped off at school was all it took for me to “hit the wall.” That was my name for the immense and sudden fatigue. I seemed to slam into the wall extra hard that day. My only saving grace was the morning nap. I plopped on the couch to recharge until preschool pickup time.
Eric had different plans. He decided he didn’t like his morning nap anymore. As soon as I plopped, the baby monitor lit up. He was crying. Then I was crying. I was so tired and felt so sick, I could not move off the couch. He cried harder. I cried harder. I physically couldn’t go get my baby out of his crib. I finally did. Somehow. And I limped through the rest of the day. Somehow.
That was the day I finally realized something was really wrong and I needed to figure out what. What I didn’t know at the time was that I would have 3 1/2 more years of not only hitting walls of fatigue, but also walls of ignorance and insolence while trying to get doctors to listen to me.
When a 30something year old asks why she has heart palpitations, she is ridiculed.
When a Mom of a 6 month old asks why she is horribly fatigued and foggy, she is told she has PPD.
When a Mom of 3 tries to explain that her cognitive function is severely impaired, she is flippantly told it is Mom brain.
When a Mom of school age children complains of swollen lymph nodes, unexplained fevers, chills and body aches, she is told that it’s just kids bringing home germs from school.
When a woman has night sweats, she is told she may be going through early menopause. Even though she is in her 30s.
When a patient is dizzy, she is told to take iron supplements even though she isn’t anemic.
When a patient complains of numbness and weakness, she is told it is all in her head.
When a patient reports a variety of symptoms that come and go, she is called a hypochondriac.
Not wanting to make waves, I took the borderline mockery from some of the doctors and continued to suffer in silence. I still was knocked out by the occasional strep, after which I would temporarily feel well. At the end of the year I found out I was pregnant with Greg and, once again, the symptoms were mysteriously relieved.
However, as soon as Greg was born my body went into a tizzy. In the hospital I felt very ill and alternated between sweats and chills. I was so out of it. To this day I am shocked no one noticed the state I was in. But somehow they didn’t. I guess I really AM good at hiding symptoms.
When I was discharged, my brain was short circuiting. I would go through periods where I couldn’t remember anything. I’m talking ANYTHING. I forgot Greg’s name. Several times. Can you imagine the horror of saying to yourself, “What is my brand new baby’s name???? Wait, I remember it starts with a G. G…Ga…Ge…Gi… Crap.” Soon my brain went back to its normal level of forgetfulness where I at least knew family member names.
During the next year, my Mom had a stroke and then surgery for lung cancer. I spent many, many days driving out to visit and care for her. *I should add here that I misspoke when I said pregnancy is the only time I don’t get sick. I also don’t get sick DURING a stressful crisis. I guess like the hormones during pregnancy, adrenaline kicks in during crisis. After stress=sick as a dog. During stress=healthy as a horse.* Somehow I hung in there until the day Mom went for her post-surgical checkup and got the green light that she could resume normal activities.
My body heard that my help was no longer required and it crashed. And burned. And smoldered. It wasn’t my normal post-stress case of strep. As bad as my strep could get, this was much, much worse. I called my ENT and told him I felt like I had meningitis. After he chuckled, he informed me he was sure it wasn’t meningitis. Crazy as it sounded, I was convinced I had meningitis and told him so. All he heard was “crazy.” I was so ill I don’t remember much of the next two weeks, but I do remember at one point thinking “this is it. I’m going to die.” Finally, my buddy Strep made his appearance. They put me on a super-duper antibiotic and my discredited meningitis also went away.
I needed to make more than waves. I needed a full blown tsunami. I started pushing doctors for answers. And “medical mystery” wasn’t going to cut it. After lots of puzzled looks, head scratching and referrals to doctor after doctor, an infectious disease doctor tested me for lyme. It came back positive. And I had probably had it for an extremely long time.
Remember I told you the decrease in strep frequency would eventually come in to play. Well, it finally has. By periodically taking antibiotics for strep, I was unknowingly keeping the lyme bacteria under control. Since the medicine wasn’t strong enough to eradicate it, it was always there. Hiding. Waiting. Plotting my downfall. OK, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But the bacteria would get stronger and the symptoms would get more prominent each time I was off antibiotics for an extended period or endured a stressful situation.
Lyme has different stages, each one progressively worse and harder to treat. Most likely I went up a stage (or got knocked down a notch heath-wise) after Eric was born and then moved to the late stage after Greg was born. The stress of my Mom being ill gave the lyme enough ammo for an all out attack. And the crazy theory of meningitis? It WAS meningitis. Lyme meningitis. Chuckle THIS, doc.
I’d love to wave the test results in front of each and every doctor who dismissed me. And see if any would apologize for treating me like an idiot. Maybe if they had listened to me sooner, I wouldn’t have reached the worst stage of lyme. The stage where I can and DID get meningitis. The stage that is hard to get rid of.
The stage I’m still fighting 10 years later.
Ten years that feel like they have aged me at least 20. A decade where I’ve decayed.
When life gives you lyme, what should you make? Make…the doctors listen to you. Really listen.
And then…
You put the lyme in the Coke you nut and drink them both together.
You put the lyme in the Coke you nut and then you feel better.
I’ve always suspected Diet Coke has a medicinal purpose. If it can eat rust off metal it should be able to handle a little tick bacteria, right?
Hmmm, I guess I just inadvertently participated in Lyme Awareness month. I should probably include some information that is actually useful. So here goes…
Ticks suck ass! In more ways than one. Really, they can get anywhere. So check your tush for ticks.
Ticks are the pits. And they like sweaty pits, so check there too.
Ticks make you have a 365 day period every year. No, not really. But they are the size of the period at the end of this sentence.
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Possible future rants…
Sometimes the elixir doth break her, not fix her.
Mourning the old me. Well, the young me. Actually, the pre-sick me.
How Lyme did and did not give me Lupus.
Topics for another post? Perhaps. First I will wait and see how many followers this one loses me. 😉
The funny will be right back after this commercial break.
If you didn’t win, don’t be blue! I will have a paperback copy of Parenting Gag Reel to give away next week and as a THANK YOU for participating in my first ever giveaway, you will be automatically entered for that giveaway also (and then I will be done with giveaway posts)! Maybe I’ll even figure out Rafflecopter by then. 😉
I will message the winners tomorrow! I will need to get an email address to send the Parenting Gag Reel prize and to know if you would like a Kindle or Nook version. Then just watch for an email from Life Well Blogged with the link for your free download!
Ever wonder where the phrase “Winner Winner Chicken Dinner” originated? According to the infinite wisdom of Askville by Amazon…
“Years ago every Las Vegas casino had a 3 piece chicken dinner with potato and veggie for $1.79. A standard bet back then was $2.00, hence when you won a bet you had enough for a chicken dinner. So now you know the rest of the story.”
Consider that tidbit my “gift” to the rest of you!
This is the story of why Glennon Melton thinks I’m bananas.
When I arrived for the Carry on Warrior book signing, the line was already winding through Books A Million.
The store was decorated with balloons and banners for the “birth” of Glennon’s book.
To complete the baby shower experience, favors were handed out
Including Twizzlers, of course.
I got in line behind the dozens and dozens of Momastery fans that were already there and within a few minutes, the line was longer behind me than it was ahead.
I was surrounded by groups of Monkees laughing and chatting. I quickly realized something awful. I was the ONLY person that had come to the signing ALONE.
I expected to see a light hanging from the ceiling flashing Loser. Loser. Loser. With an arrow pointing at ME.
No worries, I thought. “I will just pretend like I have sooo many friends I’m texting and chatting with on FB. Cell phone to the rescue! What??? 18% battery left??? Crap. If I get on Facebook, I will drain my battery before I can get a photo with Glennon.”
Panic set in.
I resorted to blankly perusing books from the shelves next to the line. After staring intently at the cover of one book for several minutes – without actually reading it, since I was in too much of a tizzy to actually focus on anything – I realized I was staring at a book called “Assassin’s Creed.”
Great, now everyone in line thinks I’m a loser AND a psychotic killer.
I suck at chit-chat, especially with strangers but I always struggle with it even with people I know. Small talk is a big stressor. I either can’t think of anything to contribute to the conversation or I babble on and on like an idiot. There doesn’t seem to be any in between with me. I’m either a faucet that won’t turn on faster than an annoying drip or one stuck on full blast, with everyone dodging the splashing water.
So I continued to stand there in silence listening to the conversations and fun going on around me, while staring blankly at more book covers (and yes, I had 3 copies of Carry On Warrior in a bag in my hand, but did it even cross my mind to use the awkward time reading? No. Not once.)
I’m surprised I didn’t leave. Between feeling like an outcast, a bit claustrophobic (I’m not normally, but this store was packed!), not eating dinner before I went and standing there in high heels, I was having visions of passing out and taking down the aisles of books with me. I’m sure you can picture what I mean…a domino of shelves knocking down one after another after another until the entire store is in shambles.
Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it – I COULDN’T leave because I was getting a book signed for someone who injured her knee and couldn’t stand in line. And before you say I should have loudly announced that bit of information to prove that I DO in fact have friends, I have never met her. She posted on the Momastery Facebook page asking if anyone could take her copy to the signing, and since I live in the same town I offered. (Side note: We HAVE messaged back on forth on FB since the signing and discussed meeting for lunch when she is, literally, back on her feet. She didn’t get great test result news from her injury so send her some healing thoughts please!)
Glennon made her grand entrance right on time. With all the squeals and applause, it sounded like a rock concert. She had the entire room mesmerized with her words of welcome.
And yes, she is on a ladder!
After Glennon put her feet back on the ground, she soon began signing. At least the line began inching along. But what happened next is one of those “What was I thinking???” moments. Since the crowd was so huge, index cards were handed out. Everyone was allowed 30 seconds with Glennon when they reached the coveted front of the line position, so if there was anything I wanted Glennon to hear that would take more than 30 seconds, I was instructed to write it on the card and leave it in a basket for her to read later.
I guess the anxiety of standing alone in the crowd with an empty stomach and aching feet caused temporary insanity to set in. I started scribbling away.
Here is the gist of what I filled up every inch of that card with. It began innocently enough. But then took a turn for the nutso.
“Glennon, Congrats on your much deserved success. I don’t comment much on your blog, but I adore your posts. I wish I had the opportunity to get to know you when we both lived in the same neighborhood! I think I am going to just keep writing until this card is completely full because I’m convinced I am the ONLY person here alone and I feel like an idiot standing here in silence. Everyone else is chatting happily with a group of friends and I’m just feeling totally AWK. WARD. Hopefully I won’t have a full on panic attack or anything. I’d probably pass out and hit my head on the corner of a bookshelf and get a gash in the shape of an “L” on my forehead, which would confirm what I’m sure everyone is thinking right now. Well, I guess now I will go back to randomly staring into space while everyone else is enjoying the company of their buddies. I can’t even retreat to Facebook because my phone battery is almost dead and if it dies I won’t be able to get a photo with you. Sorry for the sloppy hand writing. I wrote this while holding the index card in my hand. Palms are very bumpy. Well, I’m out of room now. K, bye!”
And I signed it. First AND last name. Yeah, I know. Sigh.
As we rounded the corner that was about the half way point, I think I must have looked pathetic enough that the group of Monkees in front of me took pity on me. They turned around and told me I looked familiar. I – completely jokingly – said “maybe you recognize me from my blog.” Unfortunately I don’t think it came off as a joke. Surprisingly, they kept talking to me anyway. I don’t think I said much else, since I already stuck my foot in my mouth once, but just the APPEARANCE that I was standing in their group made me feel included. Ahhh, I may survive this evening after all. Monkees to the rescue!
The second half of the wait was much more enjoyable because I only felt slightly anti-social, plus we were in a more open area of the store and the end of the line was at least in sight even though we still were no where near the end.
Finally, after almost 3 hours in line, I was up next. Before I continue, I must digress for a minute. I don’t normally have a get-all-giddy-over-celebrities personality. I never have. I don’t watch the Oscars nor read People magazine. No teeny-bopper posters plastered all over my room when I was young. The closest thing I had to a teen heart throb was Andy Gibb (I did have a t-shirt with his photo on it). Once a Redskin’s football player rented a house on my street, but I didn’t give it much thought (my husband on the other hand…total bromance.). Even when I met Melissa Gorga of the Real Housewives of New Jersey, I wouldn’t say I was starstruck. Don’t get me wrong, having lunch with her was an exciting and nerve-wracking experience, but I think I was more freaked out about official “press” photographers being there (I hate getting my picture taken) and trying to make small talk (or big talk) with a diva (she didn’t act like one). She even made a comment that it was the first time she had a lunch and talked about something OTHER than RHONJ (I’m still not sure if she was pleased about that or offended that I didn’t fawn over her more).
So imagine my surprise when I set my books down on the table for Glennon to sign and this squeaky, squealy, overly-excited voice appeared out of no where and spewed,
“Ohmygawd! I’m soooo excited to meet you well we may have met before our sons were in the same class in 1st grade but I don’t know if we actually met or not but I wish we had because I know we would have been great friends what? his name is Eric McKeown M C K E O W N which doesn’t look like it should be pronounced Mc Q N but it is I asked Eric if he remembered Chase and he said yes I remember seeing him at Petsmart one day when we were in class together but we never had play dates together isn’t it funny the things that kids remember but they can’t remember where they put their shoes 5 minutes ago oh and I also have lyme disease and I went to JMU but I’m sure I’m older than you so we didn’t get to meet there either but don’t we just have so much in common? I feel like we have been friends even though we haven’t and I just loooove your blog and you are such an inspiration I just hope one day I can somehow help even a fraction of the people that you have helped this copy is for Lisa that copy is for me and the third I’m going to give away on my blog what? yes I write a blog what? ohmygawd I would loooove to email you the link to my blog so you can check it out that just made my day that is so awesome thank you soooo much you are going to be here really late signing books you must be so excited that so many Monkees came out to see you but I bet you are going to be tired tomorrow and you don’t really get to rest because you have to go to you next stop on the tour what? no it hasn’t been 30 seconds I just started talking to Glennon I still have more to say why are you grabbing me by the arm sir? oh wow I get a personal escort out of the store you guys are just too sweet you really know how to make a gal feel special let’s do lunch love ya’ bye! “
I found my inner starry eyed teeny-bopper.
I think I reacted this way because Glennon is doing what I dream of doing. And doing it exceptionally well. Maybe I don’t swoon over singers or actors because I don’t want to be one. But an author, now that is something I admire. And an author that uses her talents and influence to help others. Wow. Now if only Jenny Lawson, a.k.a. the Bloggess, would bring her book tour near me, I just may be reduced to tears. I DID foster her cat’s long lost brother after all.
On my way out I said goodbye to my new friends – you know, the people in front of me in line – and we exchanged names and said we’d look for each other on the Momastery page. But come to think of it, they only gave me their FIRST names. Hmmm.
As soon as I got home, I emailed Glennon. Not once, but twice. Then I told Jim about my adventure, including the uncharacteristic gushing adoration and the index card, assuming he would laugh. Instead he got a look of horror on his face and said, “but you didn’t actually give her the index card, right?” I told him that I had indeed.
Cue the crickets.
Sorry Glennon.
I think I know the title of my memoir. “Carry Out Wackier.”
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It’s SIGNED! Don’t worry, not by ME!
Click HERE to enter to win the signed copy of Carry On Warrior. I promise I didn’t add any insane gibberish anywhere on it. I only do that on index cards. And verbally. Don’t worry. If you win, you can give me a P.O. box address to mail it to. Because I’m sure NONE of you want me knowing where you live after reading this post! 😉
And in case you haven’t already heard me shouting it from the rooftops, I am in a book! It was released the same day as Carry On Warrior. My kids heard me say was that I was “going to a book signing.” The next day they excitedly asked how many people showed up. I wasn’t sure why they were so curious about the success of Glennon’s book but they ooohed and aaaahed when I told them around 500. When they asked if my hand got cramped, I realized what they thought. Talk about dejected faces when I broke it to them that I was GETTING an autograph, not giving them. Sorry to disappoint fellas.
“My” book is “Parenting Gag Reel: Hilarious Writes and Wrongs” which is the 4th book in the best selling series published by Life Well Blogged. It contains a collaboration of writing from 40 bloggers and a portion of the proceeds goes to Autism Speaks. It made it to #10 in the Kindle store’s Parenting & Families category and hopefully will go to #1 when the paperback is released (should be released within a week). Don’t be surprised if you see me sitting on the floor in a corner at Books A Million with a balloon tied to my wrist begging people to take signed copies of the paperback. Gotta’ make those kids proud somehow.
You also have a chance to win a copy (5 winners) when you enter the Carry On Warrior giveaway. Plus there are instructions to enter a Kindle Fire giveaway!!
Yesterday in a pond in my neighborhood, a newborn infant girl was found dead. Even typing those words makes me shudder.
I truly cannot wrap my head around this news. So many “if onlys” whirling around in my thoughts.
If only she didn’t get pregnant.
If only someone noticed her growing belly and offered assistance.
If only she was able to get medical care – physical and mental – during her pregnancy.
If only she went to a hospital when she was in labor.
If only she took the baby to the fire station that is a mile down the road from the pond. The “safe haven” law would have offered impunity.
If only she put the baby on the doorstep of one of the houses surrounding the pond. She walked by several before getting to the pond.
If only she didn’t feel hopeless and terrified as she stood at the water’s edge.
If only she felt she could go to a parent, or a friend, or a minister or ANYONE who let her know everything would be ok. That she had options. Good options. Options resulting in her baby being happy and healthy right now. Options other than a pond.
If only a baby didn’t die.
I am not trying to judge. I’m trying to understand. But I just can’t. I can’t understand what could bring someone to the point that they thought this was their only choice.
I was adopted as an infant. The thought of my birth mother making this choice… I can’t even go there.
The medical examiner will determine the cause of death. Part of me can’t help but pray the baby was still-born, and didn’t drown in that pond. Not that the outcome would be different. Or less sad. But perhaps it would seem a bit less horrific. I don’t know. I just don’t know.
This is the second tragic event that has happened in my community recently. A couple of weeks ago a local teen was fatally shot while sneaking in to his house after a night of drinking. Only it wasn’t his house. In his incapacitated state, he mistakenly entered his neighbor’s home.
If only he didn’t sneak out to attend that party.
If only he wasn’t able to somehow buy alcohol.
If only the police drove by and caught him walking home intoxicated.
If only he didn’t hop the fence into the wrong yard.
If only the window wasn’t unlocked.
If only it was light enough for the homeowner to recognize him.
If only he ran back out through the window when he heard the warning shot.
If only he didn’t think he was running upstairs to get help from his own parents.
If only the homeowner didn’t think he was running upstairs to hurt his own family.
If only the gun shot wasn’t fatal.
If only the homeowner didn’t have to live with the guilt.
If only a teen didn’t die.
These tragedies are weighing heavily on my heart. I have a hard time accepting things when it seems as though the stars are just so mis-aligned that misfortune after misfortune ends in a catastrophic outcome that only God can try to understand. I can’t understand. And I can’t seem to let it go.
If only ONE of these “if onlys” could be changed to “thankfully…”
THANKFULLY she didn’t get pregnant.
THANKFULLY someone noticed her growing belly and offered assistance.
THANKFULLY she was able to get medical care – physical and mental – during her pregnancy.
THANKFULLY she went to a hospital when she was in labor.
THANKFULLY she took the baby to the fire station a mile down the road from the pond.
THANKFULLY she put the baby on the doorstep of one of the houses surrounding the pond.
THANKFULLY she didn’t feel hopeless and terrified as she stood at the water’s edge.
THANKFULLY she felt she could go to a parent, or a friend, or a minister or ANYONE who let her know everything would be ok. That she had options. Good options. Options resulting in her baby being happy and healthy right now. Options other than a pond.
+
THANKFULLY he didn’t sneak out to attend that party.
THANKFULLY he wasn’t able to somehow buy alcohol.
THANKFULLY the police drove by and caught him walking home intoxicated.
THANKFULLY he didn’t hop the fence into the wrong yard.
THANKFULLY the window wasn’t unlocked.
THANKFULLY it was light enough for the homeowner to recognize him.
THANKFULLY he ran back out through the window when he heard the warning shot.
THANKFULLY he didn’t think he was running upstairs to get help from his own parents.
THANKFULLY the homeowner didn’t think he was running upstairs to hurt his own family.
THANKFULLY the gun shot wasn’t fatal.
THANKFULLY the homeowner didn’t have to live with the guilt.
If only I could say THANKFULLY a baby and a teen didn’t die.
If only.
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Please consider donating to Birthright.org. They have a 24 hour hotline to help “…any girl or woman regardless of age, race, creed, marital or economic status, who feels distressed by an unplanned pregnancy.” They have over 500 locations in the US and Canada so you can donate to the one nearest you.
I didn’t really post enough on FB this week for a “wrap up” but one thing I did post has gone gangbusters. Who knew this little pic I made would be so popular??? Thanks to Mommy Needs A Break for sharing it with her gazillion Facebook fans who in turn have shared it hundreds of times!
Guess I’m not the only one who forgets… 😉
Now share this post!
Then go buy Parenting Gag Reel! My stories are in Chapters 1 and 6 and the 39 other bloggers in the book are hysterical. It will make you laugh as much as this picture did! Plus a portion of the proceeds goes to Austism Speaks, so buying the book will make your heart smile too! The paperback version is anticipated to be released next week!
Please WRITE A REVIEW on Amazon if you’ve already read it!
I’ve never offered a giveaway before and I’m starting out with a doozy!
Hardcover copy of Carrior On Warrior SIGNED by Momastery’s very own Glennon Melton!
5 Copies of Life Well Blogged’s book, Parenting Gag Reel, Kindle Version. A portion of the proceeds will go to Autism Speaks!
Life Well Blogged’s Kindle Fire giveaway
I was fortunate enough to go to the first book signing event for Carry On Warrior and have a signed copy to give to one lucky Monkee! I had planned to write more about the book signing (which was amazing) in this post, but will have to tell all in another post. You know, because life is hard. And today I’m not feeling up for doing hard things. So I’m doing easy things…like giving things away.
Five lucky winners will receive Kindle downloads of the 4th book in Life Well Blogged’s popular series. “Parenting Gag Reel – Hilarious Write and Wrongs” contains hilarious (i.e. the title) stories from 40 fantastic popular bloggers (well, 39 fantastic bloggers…plus me. But hopefully my stories will make you giggle as well. 😉 ). I’m very excited about the book and know you will love it too!
In honor of the Parenting Gag Reel Release, Life Well Blogged is also giving away a Kindle Fire when they reach 1000!!
I am doing an “old school” giveaway. I will write all the entries on pieces of paper, put them in a basket, and choose one for each prize! Now that is REALLY old school!
To enter the giveaway for the books (any or ALL below…the more you do, the more entries you get):
1. Facebook – Become a fan by going to www.facebook.com/Momopolize. Click “Like” AND leave a comment about one of my posts you read (other than this one). Once you click the like button, hover over it and select “Get Notifications.” (If you do this from your personal FB account AND a Blog FB page, you get TWO entries! Just make sure to comment as both.)
2. Bloglovin’ – Follow me on this blog reader by going to http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/6028789/momopolize. You can sign in using your Facebook account or sign up with your email address. Once you log in, simply click the “Follow” button for Momopolize! No comment necessary for this entry.
3. WordPress – Follow me here (at the top of this page) and comment below about one of my posts you read (other than this one).
To be eligible to win the Kindle Fire, you must also:
1. Sign up for Life Well Blogged’s email list at http://www.lifewellblogged.com/contact/. Abbey from Life Well Blogged will be randomly choosing the winner for the Kindle Fire and will notify the winner directly.
Book giveaway entries will be accepted until 11:59pm EST 4/11/13. Then watch for a new post on Friday April 12 to find out the book winners! (The winners will have until 4/19/13 to respond with contact information for me to send the prize.)
(The end date for the Kindle Fire will depend on when Life Well Blogged reaches the 1000 requirement.)
Need some giggles NOW? Go ahead and download Parenting Gag Reel today! It is only $2.99! AND the best part is that a portion of that goes to charity! What if you buy a copy and then win ANOTHER copy? You can make someone else’s day brighter by giving them the gift of laughter! Click on the link below to purchase. Paperback version of the book should be out next week!
I’m in a book. A real, live book. Well, not live. Unless you count that the paper used to be a tree. But the paperback version isn’t out yet, so I guess I can’t really say that yet…
I’m so excited to announce that the Kindle version was released today and the paperback version should be released very soon (then I can call it a “live” book, I suppose).
The Kindle version is less than a trip to Starbucks ($2.99) so go. Download it. Read it. Laugh. Grab some tissues. Laugh some more. And then write a (hopefully glowing) REVIEW of it (reviews are really, really helpful for the book’s success!).
I tend to down play when something good happens to me. I am much more comfortable talking about my screw-ups than my successes. But I will admit I’m doing the happy dance about this. It is quite an honor to be in the company of some of the other fabulous writers that are included in this book. Bloggers that I have read and admired. Blogs like…
And I’m. in. the. same. book. as. them! (Sorry for the mid-sentence periods, Christine. 😉 )
I know the other 33 contributors are fabulous as well. I just hadn’t been fortunate enough to discover their blogs until now!
Blogging is very difficult at times. You pour your heart and soul out for a miniscule amount feedback. It’s just the nature of the game. Usually you are just crossing your fingers and HOPING that someone likes what you posted, but never knowing for sure.
The joke in my house is that I hit publish and then say, “Wait for it. Wait for it…crickets…”
Then comes Life Well Blogged. Having someone say, “Not only do we like what you wrote, we like it enough to publish it,” is pretty darn reassuring.
I would write more about just HOW awesome it feels but I don’t want to be late for the release day book signing.
No, not MY book signing. I will be standing in line to get a book signed. Not behind the table getting writer’s cramp from scribbling my name. But I can pretend.
(I’ve never been to a book signing, so I’m pretty excited to see Glennon from Momastery…but will write more about that later…)
Thank you to everyone that has supported me since I started Momopolize last August. I never imagined anyone other than (some of) my Facebook friends would want to read my blog. It has been a wonderful ride so far and I couldn’t do it without you. Well, I could…but it would be called a journal instead of a blog.
Remember being a kid and wanting people to think you are older than you are?
“I’m 12. And a half.”
Don’t forget the half.
As adults, we reach a point when that changes. Rounding up our age is no longer desirable.
So we lie.
For years I jokingly told my kids I was 29. Mostly jokingly. Well, sort of jokingly.
One day I finally came to the realization that saying I was 29 was essentially telling
my kids that I got pregnant when I was 12.
Not exactly the morality message I want to send.
Just why DO we try to hide our true age? Why is it impolite to
ask a woman her age? It’s not like we’ve done something wrong.
“Oh gosh. I can’t believe I aged 365 days this past year. PLEASE don’t tell anyone!”
I mean, we don’t have a choice. Everyone single person ages a day every single day of their lives. No matter what. So why does that suddenly become something to disguise?
And anyway, I realized I had it all wrong. Totally wrong! Why would I want to say I’m younger than I truly am?
Since turning back time is only possible in movies, ultimately don’t we just want to look young for our (real) age? To feel young for our age?
When I’m saying I’m 29 but am actually 39, people are just going to think,
“Dang girl! You look like crap for 29!
Goal not accomplished.
So listen up ladies! When you lie about your age, don’t subtract 10 years. ADD 10!
Then people will say,
“Wow! You look incredible for 49! What’s your secret??”
I won the weekly “Caption That” contest over at Can I Get Another Bottle Of Whine With My Morning Quiet Time. Thanks Kate! My little Momopolize button gets to proudly sit on her sidebar for a week!
See kids? Veggies are soooo yummy!!
To see the actual story behind the photo above, click here —> Caption That (Round 26). You can also submit your own entry for this week’s photo! Her blog is guaranteed to make you laugh!
I realize I have been neglecting my blog lately, but as a result I’ve had time to discover some fantastic bloggers, like Kate! I promise to start posting more often…well, I promise to TRY. 😉
What caption would YOU have given this photo?
Don't ask me about my kids or I will Momopolize the conversation!
