can I be the person they want me to be for them?

Let us keep you small

Last weekend we celebrated Elise Richmond's 2nd birthday.

She is unique as she was the last munchkin that will come out of the Vasectomy Club of 2010.

The small one so to speak...ha! not even close.

I watched her hang lock step with the "schoolers" that day. Going down the slide, swimming with dad, watching movies with her extended brothers & sisters.

We all sang, as we have 20 times before, celebrating this little one's life with a collective "cha-cha Cheeto" at the end of Happy Birthday. Jeri even ate cake. It was a good day.

We snapped the usual paparazzi photog & enjoyed the habitual "Adult Swim".

This weekend was another ah-ha moment for me. Our babies aren't babies anymore. They are children.

Strong willed, vocal, sharp, intense, loving, funny

They all have pieces of one another. They present themselves like a standard Gilbert Mormon family. The older ones taking leader roles as needed. Acting so much like brother & sister, as parents, we freely manage the closest child as our own.

We talked misty eyed of days past & of what the future holds.
What would we be doing in 3 years, 5 years, 10 years?

I hope this.

I hope with all my heart my family continues to grow with these families.

Smooch

3.5 months

No more.

Reading you tonight makes me search for that part of me I have lost.

Life is harder, busier, more responsibility - all moving in the right direction but victory does not come without battle.

I need you now more than ever.

Make the time

Respect the time

Enjoy the blissful peace your mind feels with creating an outlet.

The mechanic's car never runs

Dear Dean-

My whole professional career is based on getting people through change - quickly, quietly & without issue.

I am very good at my job.

I am now faced with change & all I want to do is kick, scream & fight it with every fiber in my body.

I want the glory days back.


Me-

Nobody ever said they "wanted" to grow up to be a stripper but it never fails...

add a pole & like fat kid loves cake I want my name to be Destiny & work for the Benjamin (OK...Washington)

Have I mentioned I love Vegas?

Viva Las Vegas

hit Las Vegas this past weekend.

a few highlights...

laughing until I cried at least 5 times each day
wonderful road trip companions
sleeping in until 7:30 or 8:00 each day
Starbucks in bed
being beyond girly and taking 2 hours to get ready
AIDS ear
bad comedy
shaking my money maker ALL NIGHT LONG
big earrings and even bigger sunglasses
potty accidents
shuttle mishaps
deli sandwiches at 12 AM

holding hands with my husband
dancing with my husband
laughing with my husband
talking with my husband
it is odd how when we actually spend time together we have an absolute ball!
Love that boy.

Thank you Vegas - I have come home with no voice but with a fresh recharged motivation for motherhood, my marriage, my career & my waistline.

Cheers!

Why are flights so freaking much money.

Uggg do the airlines not understand that I have trips to plan & to buy 4 tickets anywhere sucks ass.

Shake Your Bon Bon

So on a random email response from one of the besties I get a request to "try something new". This results in 5 sessions at a crazy hippie/eclectic dance studio.

The adventure: Belly dancing

Tuesday nights for the next 5 weeks. I think "hey, if nothing else I am out of the house with chicka's I love".

Because I am a good girl scout there has been prep about what to wear and expect in class. I come in a trusty pair of fitted black yoga pants & a black tank top that. I arrive first, groupon in hand & signing the appropriate waiver where when I tear a hammie I won't sue.

I'm one of 15 other women 30 years spans our age differential and don't forget the one sweet gay man who is so buff I want his abs & biceps. Love live the YMCA.

As class begins I find myself doing the age old look around. If I were a wild animal or a member of the Hunger Games it would be sizing up competition & determining how long I would live vs. killing off any potential threats. I hate this part of being a girl. Why do I even fucking care.

I instantly feel zero threat. I find these women of a different persuasion, descending from a carb loving tribe vs. the weight watcher tribe I reside in.

As class goes on I begin to feel off kilter. I stare in the room's wall length mirror trying to maneuver my body in such a fashion that I would of had the lead role in Slumdog Millionaire and yet all I can think of is how I look like I have been suffering from mal nutrition and these amazing beautiful, curvy, volumpious women are handing my ass to me on a belly dancing patter.

So these wonderfully odd women are not what society considers "beautiful" and they dance & they don't give a FUCK. They come in crop topped shirts and belly jangles and the OWN IT. Every age, every walk of life these women are strong and say nothing more than I love myself & doing this makes me happy so I am in.

I am jealous of these women because in my pathetic warped mind of what beauty is if I walked a mile or even 10 steps in their shoes I COULD NEVER DO WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I think of the excuses I would make about how someone would think I look ugly or comment or heaven forbid stare at me.

I suddenly hate myself for being so weak & this is a trait I rarely even acknowledge.

I spent a year & a 1/2 working to get to a place that suddenly seemed so ridiculous. It got me wondering what did I really do it all for? Was it for the right reasons? Hands down I'm happy with my result & will never return to those past crossroads but I need to do a little "me" alignment & drop the ridiculous.

No more. No resolutions or trying to change the world. Just an ah-ha moment that made me realize do what you love for yourself not for anyone else.

To my two little lima beans

Listen up kidneys. YOU ARE LAME & I say who needs you!

Wait...I do & when they are broke I kind of want to die.

I heart drugs.