#NaBloPoMo: Accomplishment Of Which I Am Most Proud

What accomplishment am I most proud of? Hint: There's not just one. For the sake of time, I'll give you three...

It'd be easy to say that I'm most proud of my books. Just eighteen months ago, I was dreaming of being a best-selling author. And now I am one.

I am proud that I set a goal to have my books published and am meeting that goal. I'm proud that The Daughters are seeing hard work and dedication paying off. I love that they are sharing their dreams with me but I'm prouder still that their are sharing their plans to make those dreams come true.

I'm proud of a little thing called Listen To Your Mother. I met Misti Kae almost three years ago when we were cast in the NWA production. Last year, we were selected to produce a show in OKC. This year, we're producing a show ... again!

I'm proud that this little show is a nationwide movement that gives motherhood a mic.

I'm proud of my family. My hubby is an amazing rock star--He rocks the classroom, he's rocking his health, he rocks daddy-dom. He's nothing short of amazing--and I'm not just saying that because he puts up with my shenanigans and doesn't whimper or mutter things like it's been a good run, but Imma be going now.  

Our daughters are beautiful, talented, spunky, sassy, strong-willed, smart, dedicated to their dreams, and mine. All mine. I chose them before I knew them. I made them. I birthed them. I love them and am so proud of them.

So, accomplishment (singular) that I'm most proud of? I haven't a clue. But, accomplishments (plural) that I'm most proud of? There's not enough space on the internet for me to list them all.

#NaBloPoMo: The Last Thing I Hid

I made Advent jars for my nieces and The Daughters. Basically, an Advent jar contains twenty-four pieces of candy. Each day, beginning December 1, the kiddo takes a piece of candy out and eats it--just one piece. When she takes the last piece of candy, the next day is Christmas.

Typically, kids ask 261,528 times a day if it's Christmas yet. With this jar, when they ask, you can give them a piece of candy. They'll only ask 261,527 times a day if it's Christmas yet. See how these Advent jars make your life simpler?

But, more about the Advent jars on Friday, after I reveal them on Fox 23's Great Day Green Country. (Tune in at 10:00 to see me live!)

And, the topic of this blog for #NaBloPoMo is "The Last Thing I Hid," not "Weird Ramblings About TV Segment Prep."

So, that last thing I hid? Easy. The leftovers from the Advent Jars. Now ... If I can just remember where I hid it throughout December so I don't break into the Advent Jars and have to celebrate Christmas on December 19 instead of the 25.

#NaBloPoMo: My first ever blog post ... or why I started blogging

Almost seven years ago, I started a blog. The truth is that I had started a couple of blogs before then, but couldn't remember what they were called or where they were located or what I said. And I didn't tell anyone about them. What if they read them, y'all??

Then, I got an email from my cousin Maggie. She had started a blog.

Me, The Daughters, My Own Momma and my cousin Maggie at
Listen To Your Mother--OKC, one of the many, many opportunities
the blogging has presented to me.

She has two kids, and our younger kidlets were born just a few months apart. She lived in a small-ish town in the northwestern part of our state. She was far, far from home. A blog was a great way for her to keep the rest of the world outside of northwestern Oklahoma in touch with her family and her life.

So, I started a blog, again. (It was a riviting first post, y'all.) Ya know. To keep the rest of the world outside of northeastern Oklahoma in touch with my family and my life. Also, I wanted to keep up with Maggie.

It turned out that I really liked blogging. I started telling people about my blog. I emailed everyone I know to tell them about my blog. I wanted everyone to read it, and, in case I forgot the address again, I'd have a hundred or so people with an email from me telling all about it.

I evolved and started blogging on a local newsite. I kept it fairly anonymous and called myself Minivan Momma. Then, one week after turning down a job to manage their website, the site was redesigned and Minivan Momma, which had quite a following, was homeless. And that's when I started this little gig. (Very evolved first post--go give it a read.)

And there ya have it. How I got my oversharing start.

P.S.:  About a year later, I got an email from an old high school friend. She informed me that another one of our classmates had started a blog, and she said I should check it out. It was a pretty fun read.

#NaBloPoMo: My First Friend

When I was four years old, my sister was born and my mom was so enamored with the new whiny, cry-ey, baby that she shipped me off. She shipped me off to preschool at the big United Methodist church downtown. There were quite a few of our neighborhood kids who were also shipped off ... they all also had new siblings as well ... and we went for two years days, for sixteen four hours a day each week. The mommas even coordinated a carpool. Now that I write this, I realize what a conspiracy it was to get rid of all the kids in the neighborhood.

Paul, my first friend, went to preschool with me. He also went to church with me; his dad was our pastor. When my own momma was in California with her sick momma, I stayed with Paul's family while my daddy worked. When I lost ... literally lost ... my first tooth on the way home from school to Paul's house, he retraced my steps with me looking for the tooth. We never found it.

When we started kindergarten, I was in the morning session, and Paul was in the afternoon session. I would draw pictures for him to see when he came in after lunch. He would draw pictures for me to see first thing in the morning. Our kindergarten teacher recommended that we be put in the same first grade class because we loved each other so much and were so connected. Once in the first grade, we didn't talk to each other at school. But we played endlessly with each other outside of school.

At some point our first grade year, the older kids at church weren't going to light the candles in church. Guess who got to? Not me. Paul. I cried, and he told me that it was okay. I could light the candles ... the next week.

That's a true friend right there. They help you see the bright side--I would get the light the candles; but they keep it real--I'll do it the next week.

That summer, Paul moved. We've kept up with each other somewhat through the magic that is Facebook. He's now a firefighter. I find it ironic that he now puts out fires.

#NaBloPoMo: How Much Am I Plugged In?

How much am I plugged in? How much do I rely on my computer or my phone or my tablet? How often do I remove myself from my electronics and technology?

I'm posting this from my phone at 2:57 in the morning.

The end.

#NaBloPoMo: The Post that Didn't Post

I try really, really hard to be positive. There are so many things in our world that need "fixing," and I don't want to be known as a complainer. Complaining does nothing to fix anything. Really. Complaining does not one thing. I know that this is not a world-shattering thought, but around the time of the any elections, my social media feeds would seem to indicate that 99.9% of my friends really thought they could change the world with their complaints.

I wanted to write a post telling everyone to just shut the hell up. I didn't though. I wanted to remain positive.

Source

As long as we have elections, there will always be two sides. Even people who say they don't care, do. I wanted to tell people to just be nice, for goodness sake. When my kid--MY NINE-YEAR-OLD KID--shared with some friends (who are politically on the other side of the spectrum) where our family stood as far as presidential candidates were concerned, she was told she was going to hell. Really. These people are "Christians" despite their penchant for judging others. I told her not to sweat it. God had bigger problems than our presidential elections and the God we served loves all people--even Judgy McJudgersons. Then I wanted to tell them to shut the hell up. But, I didn't.

When gun-control legislation was introduced in response to Sandy Hook. The ugliness continued. No one wants their guns taken. No one wants to take your guns. Everyone continued to ask opponents, "What would you do if..." in presenting their cases. Funny thing was no one was listening to any of the responses. Once again, shut up. I wanted to say it a million times over. I didn't do it, though.

Religion? Everyone's right. Everyone's wrong.

Welfare? Help them all. Help none of them.

Healthcare? Heal the sick. Screw the system.

Movies? They hated it. They loved it.

We can't seem to have a civil discussion anymore. And, I had a post wherein I told everyone to shut up. I wanted to say that words are empty when they lack action ... then I realized that I needed to follow my own advice. This space would stay positive. This space would make a more intentional movement toward positive action. This space would be a place of respect.

So, my "Shut The Hell Up" post? It never posted. My words became actions instead. I would remain positive, even though the rest of the world seemingly jumped onto a negative, one-way road.

#NaBloPoMo: Favorite Hour Of The Day

I don't wake up well. My theory is that I don't enter a REM sleep until about 5:00 a.m.. Then my alarm goes off an hour later, and I've basically gotten an hour's worth of good, deep sleep. This also explains why I have such vivid remembrances of my dreams. This also explains why I'm not a tolerable person--or a person to be tolerated--until after 10:00 a.m..

I spend most of my waking hours feeling sluggish. I'll wake up fully around lunch time, and then want to take a nap around 2:00-ish. When one works outside of one's home and is responsible for the lives and education of others, a nap at this time is not acceptable.

In the evenings, we stay so busy with softball, golf, youth group, activities, lessons, groups, clubs, whatever that when 8:30 rolls around, I'm spent. I'll throw The Daughters in bed and finish up what needs to be done until about 10:00.

At 10:00, when the world is dark and the moon is bright, I finally come alive.

Source

I am most productive after 10:00. During the summer months when our days are carefree, I can stay up until two or three in the morning and accomplish amazing things.

But, since we've become accustomed to such things as electricity and running water, I'll have to keep working on The Man's schedule. Come summer time, though, if you want me, call after ten.

#NaBloPoMo: Five Things In My Fridge

Name five things inside your refrigerator right now and how you feel about them.

Oh, BlogHer. You vixen, you. Why you want me to talk about my refrigerator? Is it because you know I have an affliction that requires me to clean out my fridge every week before I go grocery shopping? Is it because you know my light is burned out and you thought that my publicly acknowledging this might encourage me to replace it? (It won't, by the way.) Whatever the reason you've chosen to call me out in this way, I'm stepping up.

1. I have a jar of Billy Sims low-carb Bar B Que  sauce. It's delicious. And it's low-carb ... well, as far as Bar B Que sauces go. But, I forget that I have it, and it's probably expired. But, I won't throw it out until I get some more because it's low-carb and delicious.

2. I have a quarter of a bottle of generic (read: cheap) seven up. Typically, we don't have soda/pop/coke-with-a-lower-case-C in our house. We just don't drink it. (Well, Brian and D2 drink it, but I don't like for them to drink it.) But, we were so sick a week or so ago. The soda is probably stale or flat or old. But, if one of us gets re-sick, we're ready.

3. I have a tube of tomato paste. I love this stuff. You never need more than a tablespoon or so of tomato paste and even the smallest can provides you with way more than you will need and then you're stuck wondering how to keep leftover tomato paste. I bought the tube, and I feel so cool knowing that's in my fridge.

4. I have a lot of eggs. We are big egg eaters. Well, D1 isn't such a big egg eater. She pretends she is. She likes to scramble up a big batch of eggs, but she'll only choke down one bite--two if I'm watching--and then declare that she's full and throw the rest out to the dogs. She's the dogs' favorite.

5. We keep our shaved ice flavoring cold. This summer, my sister got us a shaved ice machine. It was a lot of work for a small glass of shaved ice. Now, we just pour the flavoring over a cup full of unshaved ice. I know--we'll drink the sugar-water but we won't drink the soda. We are a family of oddities.

Today is my sweet Daughter 1's birthday! This kid is twelve years old. How in the world did that happen? It seems like yesterday I was wiping her poopy butt and begging her to eat. Happy, happy birthday, sweet girl!

#NaBloPoMo: Stuck In A Movie

If you had to be trapped inside a movie for five days, which movie would you pick?

Anyone who knows me knows this question is a no-brainer. Some might guess I'd choose to be stuck inside the Twilight saga. While that wouldn't be bad, I'd only do it as Rosalie, and I'd only do it in the scene where she and Emmit tear down their honeymoon cottage. I know that scene's not actually in a movie, but I'd totally work extra to make that scene happen.

You might also guess that I'd choose to be in Dear John or Magic Mike or White House Down so that I could work along side of Channing Tatum, but you'd be wrong. I like to LOOK AT Channing. I don't know that I'd like to actually work beside him.

And still others might assume I would be in any of the blockbusters that Jon Bon Jovi has appeared in. And while I did give it some thought, I decided that nothing else--aside from my boyfriend, Jon--appealed to me about those movies.

If, however, you guessed that I'd star in a musical, you would get bonus points ... and front row seats at the premier. And you'd be in charge of smuggling in the M & Ms and popcorn.

Since fourth grade when I watched Grease and dreamed of being Rizzo (I was a brunette; not a blonde), I've loved musicals. I love the notion that at any given odd time we, collectively as a society, could break out in song. Could you imagine? You get stopped by a cop and immediately the music starts. You get out of your car and the two of you do an aggressive tango as you belt out lyrics like, "It wasn't me!" "I had a clock on you, lady!" and "Don't you have a drug dealer to bust instead of a momma in a minivan?"

I also think it'd be fun as we all stand in line at Hellmart to have a few ditties up our sleeve to lighten and shorten the wait. These could be hits such as "Where have all the checkers gone?" "I picked the items without price tags on purpose" and "I have one thing that I forgot (hold my space in line)." I believe that last song would be done as a gospel song and the do-wap choir could descend from the ceiling wearing teal robes. You see it, don't you?

So, if I had to spend five days trapped inside a movie, I'd totally stick myself in Grease. I know all the lyrics; I know all the lines; and, thanks to fourth grade recess, I have the dance moves as well.

And when I did my five days, I'd wrangle my way in to Mamma Mia. Move over, Meryl. There's a new Donna in town.

PS--Don't be hatin' on my mad photo shop skillz. I'm a singer, not a techy.

#NaBloPoMo: If I Could Change One Thing About Myself ....

If I could change one thing about myself ...

I wish I were more patient. I have a tendency to want things now--as in RIGHT now. I've always been that way, and I've not noticed this lack-of-patience thing getting better as the years go by. But, it was this persistence, shall we say, that drove me to get my Masters. It was this persistence that helped me decide to elope with Brian instead of waiting around to put on a show have a wedding. It was this persistence that helped me and is helping me secure my dream of being a writer.

So, I think I'd like to exercise. Up until middle school, I played basketball and softball. I loved riding my bike and playing kickball and roller skating. Then, I just stopped. I sorta enjoy walking now, but don't always have the time. Nor do I have the desire. I should do more physical activity, that's that up for questioning. I should be exercising every day. But, I don't want to. And I don't want to want to. (Read that sentence again--it makes sense.) I need to, but I don't want to.

Maybe I'd like to change my best time of day. Right now, I come alive--I fell great and want to conquer the world) at about 8:00 p.m. If I could set my own time schedule, I'd sleep until 10 a.m. or so, I'd take a nap 3:00 p.m. for about an hour. Then, I'd stay awake until 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. But, I'd never get to see my family. I'd miss out on my day job and I've kinda grown accustomed to electricity and groceries, so maybe I'll just make due with the routine I've worked out for now.

I could talk about changing my underwear, my hair color, my bra (that one's harder than you know!). I could change my attitude or the channel or the same tired dinner menu.  I could write about changing my diet, my sheets or the litter in the litter box. I could write about changing my clothes in a public area--I have done that, ya know.

Poor guy. I can relate--to him and his momma.
Source.

But I didn't write about any of those things. Besides, that wasn't even the prompt.

If I could change one thing about myself maybe I'd be more decisive. Maybe I'd come up with an answer to a simple question quickly and stick to it.

Or maybe I wouldn't ... Maybe I wouldn't change one thing about myself. Maybe I wouldn't stick with one answer. Maybe today should have been the day I skipped #NaBloPoMo ...

#NaBloPoMo: My Writing Space

I'd love to show you my writing space, it's light-colored walls full of inspiring photos of my family. A bookshelf in a corner holds my favorite books, including every single book of Celia Rivenbark. I sit in a high-back, high-end leather chair, facing my large solid oak desk that is beautifully cluttered with this and that and a paperweight with a four-leaf-clover suspended inside, even though I have a small framed quote that reads Diligence is the mother of luck.

I cannot show you that space, though, because it doesn't exist. We do have an office and a fairly nice desk. But, I only use it if I'm writing something academic. And since I've run the gamut of academia, I never sit in there to write.

Instead, I write on the couch. Much like Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, I nestle myself into my spot on our blue love seat in the living room and I sit down to write.

I'd also love to tell you that the words spew forth from me like vomit from a sick kid on November 1. But, that's not always the case. Sometimes, I can sit and write and write and write.

Most times, however, I sit and get a good ideas then get distracted by, well, The Big Bang Theory.

Yay! It's time to write!

Ooooo ... Great idea!

Oh my goodness ... is The Big Bang Theory on The CW again?

Now, what was I going to do again?

When push comes to shove and I have major writing to do or certain deadlines looming, I'll move into the front room and position myself on the brown leather couch--my favorite couch ever! But, there are hazards being in there as well.