Hello I'am Meggan Welcome to my website.
Just went through our medicine cabinet and threw out all of our expired and unused prescriptions and medicines. There was no particular reason for me doing this. I didn’t sit down to watch an episode of Oprah, with Oprah using her ”scary Oprah voice”, about a baby dying from ingesting old prescriptions. After which, I would then go running and sobbing to the medicine cabinet throwing everything out in a feverish attempt to prevent the same from happening in my house.
Although I would have if I had watched such an episode.
Dr. Phil didn’t blast into my living room with a story of a family who’s teenagers got addicted to pain pills from taking their parent’s unused meds.
However I still got rid of my old, never taken, Vicodin from knee surgery last year.
It all got started when I was giving Lucas a bath and happened to glance way up to the top of the open towel cabinet. On the top shelf resided our box of medicines, safely out of Stretch Armstrong Jr.’s. I opened up the medicine chest and began to examine it’s contents. Old Benadryl, sticky out of date cough drops, Tylenol expiring from back when I was a size four…and I can tell you honestly that was a LONG time ago. It was time to clean it all out. In the words of Bon Qui Qui “you gots to go.”
Living in the Haus of Boys clutter is at any moment waiting to take over. I am a clutter fighter. Mail never sits on the counter for longer than thirty seconds. If Ettore sets the newspaper down to go to the bathroom, the newspaper goes in the trash. Besides isn’t he supposed to read the paper on the toilet anyway? Shoes are forever being put away, laundry folded, dishes emptied, papers from God knows where thrown away. I am drowning in papers. You would think with all the de-cluttering I do the house would be spotless. It’s not. Whatever I put or throw away, a twin replacement is brought in by elves the next day to replace the item. My house looks like we’ve been robbed, if the robbers only didn’t take anything, just ate a bunch of food, and dumped their gym clothes on the living room floor. And the socks, don’t even get me started on the socks.
With my constant de-cluttering, you would think the medicine cabinet would be spotless. Not the case, the medicine had been silently avoiding my radar for years apparently. The gig was up and it felt great to get rid of all that old stuff. It made me feel like a good Mom to clean out and purge all that old medicine and put it back up out of my son’s reach. No one told me to do it, I just did. Go Mom! I felt adult, cleansed, and in need of going to Rite Aid to restock on NyQuil and stool softener (you never know when the stools might need a little softening…and you want to be prepared…trust me).
No scary story calling me to action, just being a good Mom.
Next up I am testing the smoke alarms.
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Day ten of no Zoloft. It is going well. I was only on Zoloft for about seven weeks, so it is not too difficult to come off of it. I have been sticking true to the plan of more intense exercise to combat the anxiety and so far so good. I went to another Body Attack class and there was slightly less blubbering about on my part than last time. I have lost seven pounds of Zoloft weight gain and only have eight more pounds to go to be where I was before I started the meds.
I am feeling good…dare I say…sexy.
Looking pretty, sexy, feminine is all a new thing for me. Don’t get me wrong. I am not sipping the self Hatorade. I think I am an attractive person. I don’t think I am ugly or unattractive or any other self loathing labels. It has just always been important for me to be strong, not pretty. I always thought those two were separate things.
Growing up my heroes were Wonder Woman and The Bionic Woman. I loved those bitches. If I was the Bionic Woman and the Bionic Man came around looking for loving, I would be more concerned with kicking his ass in the 100m run. Superman may be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but my Wonder Woman would beat him to the punch in her invisible jet, while wearing wicked red boots and gold wrist cuff bracelets.
I have always been tall and stood out for my height. Once and old man in San Diego came up to me in a line for coffee and said, ”Honey, you broke the mold. My God, I didn’t think they made them like you anymore.” He then kicked me like he was kicking a tire.
I think he thought I was a Buick.
Being strong, tall, better than the boys made me feel safe. I remember when I was modeling when I was younger. I loved it, until I got good at it and started to be recognized more and more for how I looked. It made me soo uncomfortable and I felt out of control. I have been a performer my whole life and I loved being up on stage as an actress, and I was/am still very good at it. There was something though about getting attention for how I looked that made my skin crawl. I could not stand ALL THOSE EYES ON ME. I felt I was being watched, but not in a good way. I felt so vulnerable, like people were penetrating me with their eyes and I felt naked. I have talked about the sexual abuse I had suffered through as a child and adolescence. Attention for my looks brought up all the unresolved emotions and hidden fear from the abuse. At the time I did not process that the abuse had nothing to do with how I looked. It was all sickness, power, rage, and control. I felt if I stood out for my looks, then I would be abused all over again. Pretty didn’t equal power.
Pretty made me feel weak.
Still I was young, tall, and thin with a stage presence and big smile that came across on camera. After a mall fashion show in Chico, California I was scouted by Click Models from New York and offered a chance to go to New York and audition for the fashion shows.
I never called.
I never went.
I quit modeling right then. It is one of my biggest regrets of ”what if.”
ALLLL of that is slowly changing as I enter into motherhood, wifehood…and some good old fashioned intense therapy. I told and let go all the secrets. Step one in taking control and getting my own power back. Secrecy creates control and power. If the secrets are out, then there is nothing to hide from. Suddenly as myself and as a wife and a Mother I have never felt more beautiful. Amazing since I always seem to be unshowered and covered in someone else’s food, dirt, and bodily fluid.
I am changing and growing. I am part of an exciting TV project. I will be shooting and doing one minute Mom videos that have the possibility to be sold to TV stations across the country. I was talking with the owner of the company, Jennifer. Jennifer had auditioned for the company a woman named Shana that I use as a make-up artist. Shana would report on make-up and fashion tips etc. Shana is WONDERFUL. She is beautiful and sexy too boot. I asked how Shana did in her audition. Jennifer said Shana did well and she tested great with the guys. She brings the sexy factor to the table.
I laughed and said to Jennifer, “You know just once I would love to hear that about myself….you know Meggan really brings sexy to the table…men love her.”
I told Jen, usually with the guys I bring arm wrestling to the table. For some odd reason men want to arm wrestle me and then do my best friend. That is how I test.
Jen laughed and I laughed. It is so true.
The I had an Oprah Ah-ha moment. I think I am ready to let some of that old behavior and protection go. I can be funny and feminine. Taking care of myself doesn’t necessarily mean I am weak or vain or selfish or vulnerable. I am seeing how gaining the weight, even before the Zoloft was a means of self protection. I remember when I got my first job as a television reporter. Those old fears kicked right up and I immediately gained 25 pounds!! I had worked so hard for that opportunity and was self sabotaging…again…just like when I was modeling. I progressed rather quickly and soon started to work on air in San Francisco and true to form…I quit. I quit tv all together. I couldn’t stand it. The success, the attention. Sad.
Not anymore. That was so FIVE years ago. This blog is helping me take the right. I have found my voice and am slowly finding myself. I am learning to be pretty and strong and have it all be o.k.
I want to continue my journey of weight loss and stepping out more into my light and what it means for me to feel sexy, attractive, present. It seems so simple, but just getting photographed and my make-up done for this website was a HUGE deal. It was a major barrier to overcome. To take the right to be photographed in a way that I wanted. To take the right to say I would like my make-up done to look good. OMG! I thought I was going to PUKE the whole time, but I didn’t puke. I did it! The photo I had taken is on my About Meggan page and I am still here. I survived and I want to do more.
All this is so new. It is scary and new, but wonderful and exciting too. I feel like I am shedding more than just physical weight, I am shedding emotional weight as well. Despite my new found feminity, I will still try to bring the funny and I will always love to try and beat the boys, at least now I will do it in lip gloss and a great pair of heels.
Justin Timberlake may be bringing sexy back, I’m just starting to bring it.
There is no other way to start this post except to jump right in and get to it. The other day, during a routine baby appointment, LUCAS’ PEDIATRICIAN, ”DR. S.” ASKED IF I WAS PREGNANT!!!!!!
Nobody has ever asked me that before. Even when I was pregnant, nobody asked if I was pregnant. It was obvious, but nobody asked. Even when I was four months pregnant and my belly and butt had registered for new zip codes, nobody asked if I was pregnant.
Here is the skinny, scoop. Truth be told, I have gained weight recently. Along with my beautiful baby boy, I had another arrival in the household.
Anxiety, and lots of it. To combat the anxiety I went on the anti-anxiety medication Zoloft, which caused me to gain weight in a short period of time. Fifteen pounds in six weeks. YIKES!
The anxiety was bad. Not just “oh, gosh I am a little nervous” anxiety. NO, it was crushing, frightening, debilitating, terrifying, choking, deep seeded fear and anxiety. I was one night terror away from losing it, getting a bunch of cats, never leaving the house, and ordering Christmas sweaters on QVC.
After Lucas was born I began to struggle with fear and anxiety. It is no secret that I see a therapist, referred to on my site as Therapist Richard. He is awesome (and can work a sweater…sassy). Richard explained to me that often emotions are heightened during and after pregnancy and that any unresolved emotional episodes or things from the past often bubble to the surface and trigger the anxiety.
He was not joking.
All my hidden dark secrets came pouring out. Things I NEVER told anyone. I was the peace keeper with the big smile and funny personality, which I was and still am, except until very recently I was hiding in agony. As a child I was repeatedly molested by a male neighbor. Also, my Mother’s second husband was sexually aggressive towards me. He never crossed the line to molest, but never let me forget he was watching me ALL the time and could cross the line if he wanted to. For YEARS I twisted into a pretzel to disappear and get away from him. My Father, who was an alcoholic and drug addict, adopted me as an infant despite never truly wanting me. He told me he just wanted to make my Mother happy. They divorced when I was three. My Father told me this point blank through out my life, both in words and in actions. All of this I NEVER NEVER NEVER said a word to anyone. I stuffed it, buried it, HID it, put on a smile and stayed out of everyone’s way. Nobody knew, about the molest, the abuse, the things my Father told me, nothing.
Needless to say, molest, parental abandonment, constant threats and inappropriate behavior from adults toward me left a BIG FAT MARK.
Richard was right, the pregnancy brought all that up at 35 years old. I cracked like an egg and all my secrets and more came pouring out. I told my Mother everything. I told everyone everything. I cried endlessly, held my pregnant stomach and emotionally freed myself and my baby. I COULD NOT continue the hidden secrets eating my soul with a baby inside me. I did not want Lucas to be born to secrets and lies. Together we freed me from my past. The day Lucas was born we both got a fresh start in life.
How does this all relate to Lucas’ pediatrician thinking I am pregnant 19 months after Lucas was born. When you hide such devastating things for so long (35 years) and suddenly release them to the world, it can be emotionally overwhelming. Couple that with a new baby and WHAM I was in full blown anxiety attack mode. Something I had never experienced before. After trying to work through the anxiety that was worsening as the months went by, Therapist Richard and I decided to start me on Zoloft, an anti-anxiety medication.
I was very hesitant and reluctant at first. I fought going on the medication for a good long time, but the anxiety was not getting better. I was crying all the time, thought the end was always around the corner, and I was googling about cat ownership late into the evening.
I started Zoloft just six weeks ago. My personal doctor was very supportive about the medication. As she rattled off the boring side affects…thoughts of suicide, nausea, insomnia I blanked out. Once I heard weight gain though, I shot to attention. Apparently weight gain is a fairly common side affect. Assuring myself that I was exempt from side affects and would have no problems, I filled my prescription.
Cut to six weeks later. Night terrors gone, fifteen pounds of weight gain in my belly arrived. I feel terrific about my brain, but I feel horrible about my stomach.
I have gained 15(!!!) mother fucking pounds of hard fought and lost baby weight in six weeks. I might be no longer anxious, but I am now depressed about the weight gain. This must be the tummy Lucas’ pediatrician, Dr. S. saw on our appointment.
THE ZOLOFT BELLY.
After Dr. S. asked if I was pregnant it was so uncomfortable. Before Zoloft Belly we had perfection, now we have a “thing” between us.
BEFORE “the question” Dr. S. was the kind Indian pediatrician with long flowing black hair, a gentle yet professional demeanor, who worked with me on my son’s vaccine schedule without a negative attitude, patiently walked me through Lucas’ first ear infection, and adored my son.
NOW she is the kind Indian doctor with long flowing black hair, a gentle yet professional demeanor, who worked with me on my son’s vaccine schedule without a negative attitude, patiently talked me through Lucas’ first ear infection, and adores my son…and asked if I was FUCKING PREGNANT! Come on, seriously.
Dr. S. could barely look me in the eye after “IT” happened. I knew, that she knew, that she committed the verbal cardinal sin against women. Never ever ever ask a woman if she is pregnant. If you are wondering…and you are on the fence…and you are not sure if she is or isn’t pregnant, even if the she is your wife…DON’T ASK. Just hit the woman with your car instead, it will be less painful for her.
The only person who should ever ask if you are pregnant is your Ob/Gyn, and even then the doctor better be DAMN sure you are. Like in the hospital birthing room with your legs in the air staring at your vagina while your baby is crowning sure. Like your Baby Daddy is standing there with a video camera, your Mother is standing there crying, and your vagina looks like Stretch Armstrong sure. Otherwise it might just all be gas.
Dr. S. apologized and I fought back tears. I will admit it, I got a little misty eyed. The worst was disappointing Dr. S., whom I love. She was so excited for me. Her face lit up when she saw me and excitedly asked if I was pregnant.
No not pregnant with a baby, just filled with humiliation, Zoloft, and chocolate chip cookies.
It is all good. The anxiety has lessened a lot, I am switching to a mediation that my doctor thinks will help with the weight, and it makes a funny story.
I’m laughing all the way to the gym.
Just came across this portable cereal container at a Vons in Southern California and I LOVE IT. It is called the EZ-Freeze Cereal on the Go. Have I been living under a rock? Where has this portable gem been hiding all my life?
This thing is amazing.
Perfect for back to school, or the office, or anywhere.
How it works. The container has two parts. The bottom container has a layer of freezer gel coating that, when frozen, keeps milk or yogurt or really any product cold for up to four hours. The top portion is a dry storage compartment for carrying cereal, granola etc. The lid comes with a portable spoon that attaches to the top. All three screw together to make a great portable breakfast carrier to go for the kidlets or yourself.
I knew the product was a winner when I brought the EZ freeze container home and both my stepsons and their friend Kyle gave it an announcement of ”cool.”
I give it twenty minutes before the container goes missing courtesy of the thieving hands of my stepsons and ends up in someone’s backpack for school. That’s when you know you have a winner…when the kids steal your stuff.
The EZ-freeze products are available online and major retailers including select Vons in Southern California or Safeway in Northern California.
*I did not receive a product sample or compensation for this post. The views expressed here are my own.
”I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it. I’m about to lose control and I think I like it.” – Lyrics from I’m So Excited by the Pointer Sisters
Ladies hold on to yourselves because I have good news for you. Meggansamom.com is partnering with Northern California Safeways to help promote Safeway’s amazing new everyday low price program. Not only will I be writing about great savings offered through Safeway, but the generous folks at Safeway will also be giving me several $50.00 gift cards to give away to my readers. I’m more than just a little thrilled about the thought of working with Safeway, but also helping my readers learn of true savings and helping stretch the family budget, which we ALL need these days. I feel like I just got into my pre-pregnancy jeans AND found a twenty dollar bill in the pocket. Love it.
This is the first time on this site that I have ever agreed to be part of a promotion or giveaway. I have been approached before and I always declined. It just wasn’t for me. What Safeway is doing through their price reduction program to help make groceries and staples for the family more affordable is amazing. I wanted to be a part of the process, spreading the word about Safeway’s every day price reduction program.
Recently I was in a Bay Area Safeway that was GORGEOUS! It even had a huge wine room! For those of you who have spent eight long hot hours in the sun for the weekend swim meet only to watch your precious pumpkin swim a total of 30 seconds, a wine room visit to Safeway is much deserved. My local Safeway has also remodeled and again, well done. The stores look warm and inviting and well put together. I thought to myself , “Wow, Safeway is getting fancy and going uptown.” With Safeway’s new every day low price program you don’t have to pay uptown prices!
In fact, when I went in to Safeway to check out the YELLOW TAGS marking the items reduced, the quality of the products was so impressive I got excited and almost blew my Spanx shaper right off! The items offered for additional savings are staples of households from cereal to yogurts and cheese, combined with Safeway’s already low Club prices, creates and opportunity to save even more money.
Safeway is also partnering with local Northern California radio stations for a fantastic $1000 Safeway Giveaway. Below are more details on the $1000 giveaway:
- Safeway shoppers can pick up their “I Play Tag and Save at Safeway” car decal at their local Safeway store starting on Wednesday, July 29th (at checkout or customer service)
- Customers will be directed to display the decal on their cars’ back window
- Customers will be directed to listen to their local radio station (we have 5 stations participating in different markets) for details on getting “Spotted” with the decal and the chance to win a $1000 Safeway Gift Card
- 28 winners will be selected throughout 5 different areas (San Francisco, San Jose, Sacramento, East Bay and Reno) between August 1st and August 8th
OK, enough blogging, time to go give Safeway a look. Look for the YELLOW TAGS. I promise you will save money and be impressed with their friendly customer service. Keep checking back with meggansamom.com for my posts about my shopping experience at Safeway and the chance to win a Safeway $50.00 gift card. I would also love to hear about your shopping experience.
Now go and save you some money at Safeway girl!
*I received a Safeway gift card for this post, however the views and opinions expressed here are my own. Safeway has also provided the $50.00 gift card to be given away to readers.
Lucas goes to a wonderful daycare a few days a week. He loves it and I love six hours in a row of only having to wipe one butt in this household. I was talking to another Mother outside the daycare who’s son Parker also attends a few days a week. This Mother gave me her business card, and I noticed she was a lawyer.
Me: “Oh, wow you are a lawyer?”
Lawyer Mom: “Yeah, sure. No big deal these days.”
Me: “Do you not like being a lawyer?”
Lawyer Mom: “Oh no, it’s fine. It just doesn’t mean the same to me anymore.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Lawyer Mom: “More than the title of lawyer I like the title of Parker’s Mom. I love to hear the kids call me Parker’s Mom. Like when they call out Parker’s Mom is here…It’s the BEST title in the world.”
Now I love a good title and there are some FANTASTIC ones out there I would wear without shame…Supermodel, Super Lotto Winner, Mrs. Clooney…but all pale in comparsion to the title I actually have and one I would never give up or trade for anything in the world. .
Parker’s Mom was absolutely right.
A few things I have noticed that are different between pregnancy and Motherhood…
During pregnancy you are delighted with your growing belly.
During motherhood you are horrified with your growing ass.
Pregnancy means breasts the shape of cantaloupes.
Motherhood means breasts the shape of sun dried tomatoes.
Pregnancy means thinking your baby will be an angel.
Motherhood means hoping your child is not the devil.
During pregnancy you lovingly fold and wash the babies clothes until everything is perfect.
Motherhood is grabbing the least dirty of the clothes out of the Mt. Everest of a laundry hamper and deciding it’s good enough.
Pregnancy means thinking of your husband as a hero for making love to you and putting a life inside of you.
Motherhood means not letting that hero touch you for fear he will put another life inside of you.
Pregnancy is hoping you are a good Mom.
Motherhood is knowing you are (at least that’s what Therapist Richard tells me).
meggansamom.com is proud to welcome Lucy Adams, Author of If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny. Lucy is a Southern Humorist, successful Mommy Blogger, Syndicated Columnist, and a Mama. Her book: If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny is a cross between Jeff Foxworthy and Erma Bombeck, with a dash of Bill Cosby. This book, with its funny stories of family from three legged pigs to the pitfalls of the happiest (and hottest) place on Earth, will have you laughing out loud and it makes a GREAT Mother’s Day present…for a Mama of ANY age. To order just click on the book to the left. Also, enter a chance to win a FREE If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny baseball cap. Simply email me at
The 10th email will be the winner! Following is an interview I had with Lucy, concerning her life, her family, and all things funny with Mama. For more information on Lucy, you can also go to www.ifmama.com
INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR LUCY ADAMS
What is the inspiration behind your book, IF MAMA DON’T LAUGH, IT AIN’T FUNNY?
So many things inspired me to write If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny; My husband stayed after me about doing it. Readers of my weekly newspaper column frequently asked me when I planned to write a book.
The turning point came when a publisher called me and asked if I was interested in writing a how-to book on parenting. Wow! I was flattered. But when I finally got my puffed up ego to sit down and be quiet, the reasonable, logical side of me said that it was dangerous territory to trod. After all, my own children aren’t fully cooked. I’ve yet to see the end product of my own parenting. Who am I to tell someone else how to do it? I had to call the publisher and decline the invitation. While on the phone, however, with newfound confidence clutched in my sweaty palms, I pitched the idea for If Mama. He liked it. If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny was also inspired by my need to prove that life is more than a collection of chaos bookended by rare moments of calm. Every moment counts. Every minute of every day has a purpose. I have found that by learning to live in the little moments, I open myself to the biggest lessons and the best rewards. And, of course, humor. The smallest sliver of a second contains a complete journey. So much more happens between loads of laundry than wiping noses, folding shirts, and scrubbing the kitchen floor. In fact, most of life happens at the same time that I’m driving carpool, cleaning toilets, and scorching spaghetti.
Where did the title come from?
My husband actually coined the title. One evening at dinner, several years ago, one of my sons asked my husband to pass the rolls. Instead of passing the plate, the man tossed a roll to the child who bobbled it. Buttery bread left a long grease streak down the front of my child.
I was irritated at the poor display of table manners and at the challenge of getting butter stains out of navy blue pants. My husband could see it on my face, so he said, “Uh oh, y’all. Mama isn’t laughing. If Mama doesn’t laugh, it isn’t funny.”
The title evolved from there.
Life can get messy and stressful for all of us, how do you make life’s family “challenges” entertaining?
I usually don’t realize how entertaining the chaos is until the crisis du jour has passed. In the moment, I’m like every parent – I’m surviving. And I hope that in all the minutes that come between racing time to the grave, ha, ha, I’m teaching my children to laugh at themselves and take life’s ups and downs lightly.
P.M. (Pre-Mom) what is your background?
I attended the University of Georgia, where I met my husband, and earned a B.S. in education. I got married smack dab in the middle of working on my M.S. in psychology at Augusta State University. Then, I had my first baby two years into studying for my doctorate in developmental psychology. Within 15 months, I was pregnant again.
Needless to say, that Ph.D. goal got put aside to make room for being a mama; an over-educated mama who thought that everything about parenting could be read in a text book. One day my mother said, “Get your nose out of those books and just go with your gut.” It was the best advice I ever received. I digress.
You say that you are a Southern humorist. For those of us not familiar with the South, can you expand on what that means.
It means I can use bad grammar in my book title and get away with it. It means I can use phrases like “frog choking rain,” and “I ain’t gonna hit a lick at a stick today even if a cow hooks me,” and I’m instantly forgiven because I’m southern. That’s just how we talk. I can point out that here in the south we love our cousins, our guns, and our liquor, and folks don’t take it the wrong way. Mostly because it’s true.
Mostly it means that I poke good-hearted fun at myself and my roots. I grew up in rural Georgia and am a life-long student of the vernacular and colloquialisms of my part of the country. Some pretty crazy things get said on the bench in front of the feed store, where the owner swears he’s got what I need to “feed ever’thin” from my monkey to my mother-in-law.
You have columns, a blog, and a book, along with a family to raise. When do you write?
Working full-time and raising a family can pose barriers to a writing career. I write in every sliver of time I can find. I keep a notebook and a pen with me at all times. Ideas suddenly come to me and I have to write them down or I’ll never remember them. Sometimes I get inspired and write an entire story on the back of my grocery list while standing in the middle of aisle 9. Sometimes I dictate to my 13 year-old when ideas come to me while I’m driving. I jot things down in waiting rooms, dressing rooms, and bathrooms. I have lots of scraps of paper stashed here, there, and everywhere with various notes. Often, writing a story is like piecing a puzzle together, literally.
What is your favorite story from IF MAMA. What is your kids favorite story?
My favorite story is “I Hope I’m Getting Smaller,” about an interaction with my then 4 year-old daughter about loving “bad guys” and what God would want us to do. We shared an amazing moment when I had a revelation about my relationship with my daughter, as well as about how she and I both understand God. It was such a profound experience; tears fill my eyes every time I read that story.
Another of my favorites is about Noah, the three legged pig. But that story is best consumed a little bit at a time, so I won’t go into detail here.
My kids almost unanimously chose a story titled “Taking Inventory” all the things we found when we cleaned out our minivan one afternoon.
How has being a Mother affected your perception of your own upbringing?
That’s a good question. I think like most people, in my twenties I questioned my parents’ ways of doing things. I could name every mistake they made raising my siblings and me. But as I’ve gotten older and wiser (mostly older), and mistake prone myself, I realize that there’s no such thing as perfection. I am very thankful that God chose my parents for me and that I grew up in the time and place that I did.
You should know, however, that because of the things my older brother and I got away with – setting the woods on fire, riding our horses to the convenience store 10 miles away, dropping the cat out of the hay loft, floating on our pond inside of black trash bags (it must have looked like giant mold spores) – I make an extra effort to monitor my kids a little closer than our parents watched us.
How do your kids/husband feel about having their family life written about?
I have to admit, there’ve been a couple of pieces I published that sent my husband over the edge. He has actually given me a list of things I can’t print about him in the newspaper. For example, I can never write that he “squealed like a school girl.” And every now and then my parents will question something I put in print. My friends laughingly say things like, “Uh oh, you’re not going to put that in the paper are you?”
But my children seem to go out of their way to give me topics to write about. I even find myself lecturing them on not doing brainless things just to see if I’ll write about them.
Is there a story not in the book that you would like to share?
I’ll share a tidbit that went out in my last e-zine: Only A Mama . . .
My son hit an in -field fly-ball during his middle school baseball game. He made the obligatory trot toward first base, but his posture screamed, “I’m out. I can’t believe I did that.”
As soon as the umpire held up his fist and called, “Out!” officially, my child turned toward the dugout, defeatedly jogging off the field.
Looking toward the plate, I saw that he still had a mess to clean up, so I called out from the bleachers, “Pick up your bat, Honey!”
The parent sitting to my left mumbled, “That’s something you would never hear a dad say at a baseball game.”
Do your kids think you are funny?
Probably not in the same way that adults do. They think that they are funny and I’m just telling other people about it. They do love to hear me tell a story about them, though.
My 13 year-old is at that age when not only does he think I’m not funny, but he is embarrassed that he even has a mother. Secretly, though, he loves when people ask him about something I wrote in the paper.
What is next for Lucy Adams, can we look forward to another book?
I’m currently working on my second book of humor about the tight places and uncomfortable conversations in which we find ourselves; you know, like walking out of a bathroom with my skirt tucked in my panties. Look for it in the summer of 2010.
My blog series on Southern Girls Living Fearlessly will continue. I’m also working on turning it into a monthly column, and, in the future, a humorous book of off-center advice from a woman learning it as she goes.
*I did not receive a product sample or compensation for this post. The views expressed here are my own.
Double up on the Prozac ladies, because the tears are going to flow! Gather up the babies and rock them as you listen to this hauntingly beautiful new album, by multi-platinum artist Jewel, titled Lullaby. The album is available for pre-sale on Jewel’s website, www.jeweljk.com, and will be autographed if you pre-order online. There are samples to listen to on Jewel’s website as well. I ordered my copy and can’t wait to hear the complete album. Lullaby sounds amazing, this album is how I wish my voice sounded when I sing to Lucas. I am afraid sometimes my frog like croaking rendition of ”Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” will give my little man nightmares. Problem solved, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is on the album and it takes your breath away it is so gorgeous. Also, makes a great gift. Below is text taken directly from Jewel’s website…
“Multi-platinum singer-songwriter Jewel is partnering with Fisher-Price and Somerset Entertainment to debut her first-ever independent release, Lullaby. The 15-track album features 10 self-penned songs and a few standards including Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Somewhere Over the Rainbow. The acoustic record is reminiscent of Jewel’s twelve-time platinum album, Pieces of You. “It’s the perfect album to relax to at the end of a long day,” said Jewel. “It’s really a mood album. It’s great for children, but it was written with adults in mind. I’m really excited about it.” Lullaby was produced by Jewel and recorded at her home studio in Stephenville, Texas. It will be released on May 5th and available at major retailers in the toy and baby departments, as well as online at jeweljk.com and iTunes.”
*I did not receive a product sample or compensation for this post. The views expressed here are my own.
Since I am now surrounded by all men I have noticed some striking differences in how men and women remember time. Women, for instance, can tell you the major events of their lives by how much they weigh. For example, I was 125 lbs., when I graduated high school. I was 145 lbs. when I was dating So and So. I was 160 lbs. after So and So broke up with me. I was 150 lbs. at my friend’s wedding….I was 155lbs. at my friend’s second wedding. Women can tell you their EXACT weight corresponding to any event in their lives. For men it is not their weight, but their POOP! They remember life’s events by the size and distinguishing characteristics of their craps.
Recently my step-sons were talking about a trip they had taken and they were having a hard time recalling the details…”remember we went waterskiing…no”, “remember the people camping next to us had that really cool dog with three legs and only one eye….no”, remember I took that really big crap that wrapped around the toilet and then we took a picture of it to put on the internet…OH YEAH…that was a fun trip!” One crap memory and it all came back like yesterday. Men can use their poops as their emotional compass as well. I once had a boyfriend that thought he could predict how well he was going to do on a test by the kind of poop he had in the morning. “Oh no, not a good sign, it was just a pebble, looks like I’ll be getting a C+.” Ask my boys about our road trip to Seattle this summer and they can tell you details of every dump across three states.
Which brings me to the next area of discussion, as the laundress of the house and viewer of many a skid row, I wanted to share with you my stain fighting combination that I think will combat any back door deliveries your husbands and sons might leave behind. I have had great luck with the Clorox Bleach Pen and Spray and Wash’s MAX Resolve Power. They have been my friend in the laundry room. So let those boys eat cake, Taco Bell, curry…you are covered. The men will always carry their memories with them, at least these products will help you remove those memories from their underpants.
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