Slowing Down

Summer. I keep reminding myself that it is summer. Slow down. Breathe. Kick off the shoes. Exhale. Pick up the book. Make some lemonade. Relax. Let some things go. Don't schedule anything. Go for ice cream.


I am just like any other mom. I have to do lists and a million things to do. I am used to trying to do it all. But, summer isn't about doing it all. It is a mindset that I find hard to shift into.


I especially love to read in the summer. I am reading the best book, Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I never thought I would like it. But, Oprah has talked about it so much that I couldn't resist any longer. It is a great book to read while watching the kids ride the bikes up and down the street or play in the backyard. It's a long one but I can tell that it is one that I don't want to end.

So again, I tell myself. Relax. Watch the kids play in the backyard. Play with the kids. Sip the lemonade. Pick up the book and read. It is OK. Do whatever you feel like doing. Enjoy the sunshine. Inhale. Soak it all in. Exhale.

P*** Envy

For weeks, my son has been obsessed. It is all he talks about. With this heat, it has gotten worse. He wants a big one. He cannot think about anything else when he in on our back deck. He has pool envy. He really wants a pool. He really, really wants a pool. We aren't talking about a wading pool. We can't buy it at Target. He wants a beautiful pool that we cannot afford. Our neighbors have one and my son just looks over at it and dreams.

There is another reason that my son cannot let go of this impossible dream. My husband works for a swimming pool company. He is an attorney for the company. We talk about pools and the pool industry a lot in our house. When my kids visit the office, there are gorgeous pools on every wall. They are the most beautiful pools I have ever seen. It will be a long time before we can even think about a swimming pool.

We visited some old friends this weekend. They own a beautiful pool. This did nothing to help my argument that we cannot afford a pool. In the car as we buckled up, Ryan asked again why we can't have a pool. He then wanted to know what the mom and dad did for a living to earn enough money for a pool. That didn't help. The friend was an attorney friend of my husband. Yes, nearly the same type of job. The next question was of course why can they afford one and we cannot. My favorite question "Dad, do you have any other friends with pools?"

I remember as I kid, I wanted new clothes for my only Barbie. I begged for them. I don't think I ever got them. Was there anything you wanted or begged for as a child that you never received?

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Don't you love the new look? A huge thank you to Krystyn of Krizzy Designs. I absolutely love her design for my site. If you need a new look for your blog, email her and she will help you out. Visit krizzydesigns.blogspot.com for more information. She also can help with birth announcements or other invites that you may need. Thank you so much Krystyn. Also, a big thank you to OHmommy for introducing me to Krystyn.

Feelin' Safe At Safety Town

My son is 5. He is super shy. So shy that I had to volunteer to teach Sunday School so that he wouldn't cry for a whole hour every Sunday. He is so shy that I don't waste my money on too many extra activities. He cries through them. He can barely tell you his name if you ask.

But today, today was different. I dropped, yes dropped him off at Safety Town. There were no tears. No holding on to me as I walked away. Nothing. I almost didn't know what to do. They didn't even have my cell phone number to call me if he had a fit. I was pretty uneasy for the whole two hours today that he was away.

When I went to pick him up, he was smiling. I really couldn't believe it. At lunch he asked how often he has Safety Town. I told him every day for a week. He yelled out "Yes!" I say "Amen."

Shut Me Up!

Tonight I was invited to meet friends for dinner tomorrow. Instead of politely thanking them for the invite and just saying I couldn't go, I went on and on about how we are on a budget. "I can't go to dinner because we went to dinner last night and we only allocate a certain amount of funds for the month......blah, blah, blah." Do they really care? No. They needed a polite "Sorry I can't go. Thanks for inviting me."


Last night a friend asked my mom was feeling. Once again, I offered her too much information and on and on I went. I got into her past history of the auto-immune disease. I continued with a detailed play by play of the past few months and ended with a not so quick description of the last few weeks. Once again, a simple "She's doing better" would have answered the question.


I know better. As children, we were encouraged to keep certain things private about our family. My dad is very private about money. He would say "There are certain things that you keep private." Sorry Dad. I am really struggling with it. I know my friends don't need to hear every detail about my life. There should be some things about me that I don't share. The weird thing is that when I write, I can keep a lot private. There are so many things that I'd love to write about but cannot. I don't struggle with the line. But, just get me talking and I will tell you everything you never wanted to know.

Here Comes the Humidity

I am one of three girls. My poor dad. I really had no idea what it would be like to be living with all men. I lived in college with all women. Even in grad school, there were no men around. I never lived with my husband until we were married. I was in for a rude awakening.


My house is pretty clean considering I have two little boys. It gets messy but it isn't dirty. At least I like to think that it is clean. But this week as the humidity rolls in, I am starting to wonder. The smells that are coming from my bathroom would stop any mom in her tracks.


How can my boys miss the toilet every time they pee?


Seriously, I could mop daily and it would still be dirty. Even once I do mop, I know that I will still smell the urine oozing from the bathroom. It hides. It lurks. It won't quit.


If you live with only women or girls, you have no idea. You will think that you do. You will tell me that little girls don't always get it right. I remember. I lived with my two little sisters. I hear you. But boys are so messy in the bathroom.

My oldest son is pretty good at hitting the mark except in the middle of the night. It is my littlest boy. He can't pee straight to save his life. I have lectured. I have made him clean it up. I have nearly cried. But, he is just a messy little guy.


I have looked online for tricks. I have tried to find the magic formula to make my bathrooms smell cleaner. My friends and my sister talk about it. There has to be someone out there with a solution. I haven't had much luck. The only one I can come up with to share is my own. I pour floor cleaner (not watered down) around the toilet. I let it ooze into the spaces around the toilet for a minute or so. I then soak it up with a paper towel. You will be surprised with all of the urine that comes out. Be sure to go back a little later. Some oozes out and it looks pretty gross.

Do you know any tricks so that your bathroom doesn't smell like a barn? Any tips that I am missing? Help!

Makin' Us All Scream!

The music starts softly. It can barely be heard. Slowly, the music grows louder and louder. My children and I can no longer ignore the song that keeps coming closer and closer to our house. Finally, I see it. The local ice cream truck making its daily trip past my house. On a walk a few weeks ago, I finally figured out why I always hear the ice cream truck. The ice cream truck owner is a neighbor. They live right around the corner from us.

So daily, in addition to the music being played by the ice cream truck, you can also hear this conversation (with tears).

Mom, you never let us buy ice cream.

Sorry, Ry. Ice cream trucks charge a lot for their ice cream.

It's not fair. The neighbor kids always get to buy some. Why don't we?

Their mommy works. They have more money.

You've never let us buy any (Here come the tears).

You are right. If I do it once. You will want it every day. They drive by every night. You will beg every night. You will cry every night.

So I was worn down tonight by a smart five year old. Tonight, we found a compromise that includes a sticker chart and piano practicing. We'll soon be hanging out with the neighbors at the ice cream truck in front of my house if my son starts practicing his piano. Great, this new plan will cost me money and probably make me gain ice cream weight. But, at least there will be more piano practicing and less tears. Hopefully.

We've All Been There

Warning! Extremely honest post. Do not read if are easily offended and sell something from home!

My mom sold Mary Kay Cosmetics my whole life. My dad, yes my dad, sold Pampered Chef. Both did really well. The women LOVED my dad. A good looking man that cooks can sell women anything. My mom won a car from Mary Kay. She loves the products and still sells it when she is well. She has sold Mary Kay Cosmetics for over 25 years. I have been around home based businesses my whole life.

So many of my friends and relatives are selling through home based businesses. I could probably shop only from my friends and be able to handle of the gifts I need to buy throughout the year. I love to shop. I love to spend money. But, there is a budget and my husband and I keep track of where our money goes.

Here's the hard part. I don't like hosting the shows. I don't really like attending them. I feel pressured and usually spend too much money. Most of the times, the companies charge shipping and handling. The products are items that I would find cheaper somewhere else. Most of the time, I could do without or I make myself do without.

Sometimes I have had to be the host when a relative really needs to start their business. I find it extremely uncomfortable. I hate to ask my friends to come. I am nervous before and throughout the show. I don't want anyone to feel they have to buy. I especially don't want people to feel that they have to come. I usually serve wine. That helps!

So, as the title of this blog says, "I'm not talking about it, I am just saying..." I am just talking about it. I know it is all me. I am a big girl, I can choose to skip the parties. I can choose not to host the few that I have. I can say no. I have. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I can't.

So, tell me. Do you host? Do you attend? Do you say no? Do you love them? Are you a consultant? Please be kind in your responses. I have had a tough week. Seriously. I beg you.