My bench

This morning I did a five mile loop that I used to do all the time several years ago.  I walked up the hill two and a half miles and then I ran all the way back.  While on my way up the hill I saw a bench and couldn't wait until I would see it again on my way down.  I quickly gained momentum with an urgency to return to the bench.  As I was running down the hill it seemed like forever wondering where that bench was.  And then I saw it.  And I sat on it.  And I started to pour out my heart to a loving Father in Heaven.  I was sobbing while expressing so much gratitude for where I am today, the fact that I can walk again after not being able to for a year and a half, for the beautiful air, for the help of losing weight, for being so happy, for being a new me.  I didn't want to leave my bench when I was done.  Somehow it seemed so sacred to me.  I continued on my run grateful for my experience and so grateful for so much.

I'm a daughter of God, and I'm holding on to virtue

I have a dream...to be a mother

When I was in sixth grade I entered the annual Reflections contest.  I'm right brained with not a brain cell in the left and I liked to draw, so it was a given.  That year my life revolved around getting my own violin, watching/dreaming about David Acor and Jeff Barton practice basketball with my dad's freshmen team, dealing with vulgar rumors, friends and other students that were bullies, and trying to do my hair perfect like Jennifer Guymon.  

The theme for the Reflections contest that year was...  "I have a dream...."  

I don't remember if it took me a long time to decide what I would draw, but when I did, it was time to get to work.  My dream was to be a mother.  Oh sure, I wanted to go to college and be a third grade teacher just like Mrs. Jackson someday, where I could teach cursive, times tables, do amazing bulletin boards and read "James and the Giant Peach" in a plethora of voices to my students.  But, I had a great mother who taught me about being a mother and never complained about her full time job she had chosen rather than using her degree she had gotten.. 

My picture had to be fabulous.  In sixth grade eyes of course.  It needed texture which was par for the course even at that age.  I dug out some wallpaper sample books and cut out some for the walls of my dream house, then some velvety wallpaper for the carpet.  I drew my perfect looking self draped in pearls reading to my beautiful daughters with that gorgeous Jennifer Guymon hair.  I had a dream all right.  Ya, totally a dream.  Ha

I found this picture a few months ago and have been waiting to blog about it for awhile.  Many years and seven kids later, it makes me smile.  Although the world makes the job of being a mother not so glamorous, I've never known anything but.  I think I do live a glamorous life!  I am happy.  I have a husband that loves me.  I have beautiful children.  I continue to get more comfortable with myself all the time.  When I really look at the picture, I live that dream I dreamed all those years ago.  Oh, it's definitely not perfection around here, but it's a feeling of joy, an attitude of gratitude, and doing my best like I have always watched my own mother do. 

I have had a wonderful day.  A day full of meals by the boys, gifts and notes, a date by D, leading the primary children while singing Mother's Day songs, feeling beautiful, talking to my missionary, getting our annual Mother's Day pictures, and so humbled to have been given this dream I dreamed about when I was twelve years old. 

And now for our pictures.  They make me SO HAPPY!!!

I love you Mom.  Thanks for being the woman that you are, that you have always been and the woman that I
hope to be.  I have been so blessed.

Butt and ankles

When I was in seventh grade, I stood in the hall next to the orchestra room waiting for my teacher to return from lunch and open the doors.  There were a lot of us students there along with the band kids too.  I have never forgotten that day.  In front of several other students, Beau, a kid my age, just randomly told me that I had a big butt.  I was embarrassed.  I was shocked actually not knowing that butts came in different sizes.  I cringe to think of it now, seeing how I was a stick then.  But stick or no stick, when I was taller than all the other boys and girls my age, I felt "fat".  I bought into that whole big butt thing looking into the mirror and hating it for years, actually, I still do.

A few years later, my friend Alan told me that I didn't have any ankles.  At that point, I became very self conscious about my ankles along with my big butt.  

Obviously these things are tucked away in my little brain.  Whatever!  I can hardly say that they are tucked away.  They are plastered on the forefront of my brain where I am constantly trying to see myself differently.  Trying to see myself through the eyes of a mother.  Trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter.  I was an athlete.  A good one at that.  I am artistic and creative.  I have talents.  I dare wear heels being almost six feet tall.  I've done okay with it all these years. 

But last night I had a friend tell me something that made me feel as though I was in the halls of the school all over again.  I giggled it off but was really hurt.  It got me thinking about my own children and the things they face at school everyday.  Are they too having other classmates tell them things they don't like about them?  Or rather, pointing out things that they could be self conscious about their entire lives?  As a mother, you do so much to try to build your kids up and to give them the self esteem they need.  I kept talking myself through it as I would to one of my own children.  Pointing out all the good things about me.  Teaching them that we don't say things like that to others.  It's so easy to say all of those things to your kids because you believe what you're saying, but it's so hard to hear those "playground" comments about yourself from others all these years later.  I mean, the whole stupid thing of "Sticks and Stones" is the biggest bunch of crock I've ever heard!  You may not break me, but you've made me self conscious my entire life.  It's an uphill battle.  In fact, I'm so self conscious about it that I never mention it to anyone!!  Not even D.  So, this is waaaay out of my comfort zone almost like "coming out".  

It's really made me think about all these posts that I've previously written on feeling beautiful.  Easy to say when you've been out of school over twenty years and peers aren't pointing out all your flaws to your face.  I guess that's when I realized that I really have bought into what I teach.  That my physical characteristics don't  make me me.  Knowing that I am not my body.  I guess that's why it's so important to teach our children all the good things about themselves.  Encouraging them to work hard, chase their dreams, explore and then develop their talents, be kind, know that they have a Father in Heaven and to truly love themselves despite their physical beauty.  

Almost two months ago I had more anxiety.  Ya, shocker.  Anyway....I lost twenty pounds in two weeks because I physically can't eat when I'm like that.  I won't lie.  It was kind of nice fitting in some jeans that I'd fit in if I worked a little harder.  But when weight comes off like that, it doesn't stay off.  Just takes six weeks.  My body is so messed up.  I was supposed to go somewhere but between my anxiety and the weight lost, I didn't want some people to see me and tell me that I was looking good and ask if I had been working out or what I had been doing.  I got upset about it thinking that my looking good had to come at the cost of freaking out, thinking that I was dying, having my funeral planned, almost going to the E.R. and not being able to eat.  Couldn't I look good the way I was before?  Which I always feel like that whenever I lose weight.  

We'll be talking about this for FHE.  Oh no, I won't point out what I'm self conscious about to my kids.  That just gives them the idea to notice or to say things.  My kids never even know when I'm trying to lose weight because that says too much already.  As far as my kids are concerned, I'm an in shape mom.  Period.  I have all kinds of friends that tell their kids that their butt jiggles when they run on the treadmill.  (the mom's butt)  Well, next thing they know, the kids are in fact telling my friends that yes, their butts do jiggle when they're running on the treadmill.  We have a rule, my mom taught it to me, we NEVER say anything negative to each other in the family.  NEVER!!!  If someone does, and someone kind of did once about one of my children, I will tear you to shreds!  

So, just the next day after being told something that hurt to the core by one friend  (I still love you.  :)), another friend Janie told me just the opposite of what I had been told the night before.  My eyes doubled in size and I giggled as I told her what had just been said to me.  We laughed and laughed.  My friend Janie will be moving soon.  We've been friends for ten and a half years.  At times we've been closer with each other than others.  She is the friend that calls and says that she felt like she should call when I'm on the toilet crying for someone to just call me.  She called me asking how I was doing in the midst of my anxiety to which I replied I was fine until I confessed last week that I hadn't been.  It seems as though she's always in tune to the Spirit and then responds when I need her.  Just like today when she told me the opposite of my other friend out of nowhere.

Oh Jane, I love you so.  I'm sobbing right now at the thought of you not being here anymore.  I'm so grateful that you "adopted" me as a friend those couple of days before Christmas in 2001 at Albertsons.  You are one of the most beautiful women I know.  You are a wonderful mother and have opened your home to so many.  You sing beautifully and I will miss singing with you.  Those were such good times...especially when I giggled the entire song at R.S. once and you had to sing alone.  Sorry.  :)  I love that you're simple.  You're supportive.  You're fun.  You're great at hunting coyotes.  lol  And my favorite...you follow the promptings of the Spirit.  I've been blessed because I've had you in my life.  Here I mean.  I still will.  :)  Best of luck with your new job and all the changes to your new start.  I love you.

As for my butt and ankles, ya, I know you're there, you were pointed out to me lots of years ago.  But you  don't define me.  Especially if I have a long dress on with my back against the wall.  I doubt it's going to say that I had a big butt and no ankles in my obituary.  So, with that, I don't know.  It's just good to have it off my chest.  The end.  :)

I just lived a fairytale

 So, I've FINALLY learned not to go into my birthday with any expectations.  That way there's NO room for disappointment.

The night before my birthday, D came home with a Birthday card for me with some money in it.  Wishing me Happy Birthday since he wouldn't be going to visit all my family with me for the weekend.  I clung to the last few words in the card saying something to the effect that something good would be in the state we were headed to.  I cried secretly hoping there would be a letter for me from C before he left. 

I woke up the next morning knowing that the day would be a good one since I was feeling better.  Each of the kids greeted me by saying, "Happy Birthday Mom".  I was content with that.  Anything above and beyond that would be a bonus. 

After getting my birthday wishes from each of the kids, we scurried around trying to decide whether or not we could go see my family as planned that day since some of the kids weren't quite well yet.  We decided that we would be able to leave, so we gathered our stuff, left A home to get better since he was now not feeling well, and we were off. 

That night we attended my sister's baby blessing followed by a potluck at the church.  After my brother-in-law's family and friends left, my mom got on a mic and asked everyone for their attention.  Then she went on to say....

That the night was a special night for my sister and her family since they had just blessed their miracle baby, but that they didn't want me to feel forgotten since it was my birthday.  I sat there kind of embarrassed and smiled at everyone.  Okay, it's just my birthday.  Then my mom handed me a gift that I unwrapped in front of everyone.  It was a book of pictures and thoughts from everyone about me!  People said the sweetest things.  I quickly flipped through it hoping to see a letter from C.  There it was.  A note from my very own Elder.  (That's what he is going by for the next two years)  I cried and cried anxious to read what he had written me.  Anxious to see what everyone had written to me or what their thoughts were on me.  It was awesome!  Best present ever.

But then....

While I sat there crying flipping through the pages, my mom continued on by telling everyone that for over a year now I had talked about and wanted a cuarenta-era.  But that I had chosen to celebrate my birthday in another way by giving a breakfast to my Veterans.  I was sobbing at that point.  She called me up and said that I was going to have that dream fulfilled.  I went up where she and my dad put a tiara on my head, placed a coursage on my wrist and then my dad asked if I would dance with him.  The song, "Butterfly Kisses" came on.  My dad held out his hand and I placed mine in his.  The other arm on his shoulder and my head in his chest.  I danced with my dad crying and crying wishing that I could freeze time.  My dad told me that he loved me.  I told him that I loved him too.  That "that" was the neatest thing anyone had ever done for me.  That it was better than any cuarenta-era I could have ever thrown myself.  I danced there in my dad's arms at the age of 40 feeling beautiful.  I hadn't needed that gorgeous dress, professionally done hair, makeup and nails, and all the glitz and glamour that I had once dreamed about.  It was perfect just dancing there in my dad's arms.  Knowing that my mom and dad had done that for me.

 That's when I realized that becoming 40 was beautiful.  I love this age.  I love this stage of my life.  I love looking back and seeing my own personal growth.  I love that I really didn't need a cuarenta-era but that my mom made sure I had one.  That night was priceless.  Truly mom and dad, I can't thank you enough.  I know it seems so silly, but it meant so much to me that you would do that.  I love you.

I couldn't wait to get back to my sister's house that night to read through my book.  My kids were all asleep next to me and on the floor in one of the bedrooms.  I read through it using my cell phone light.  I laughed and cried as I read everyone's entries.  I texted D thanking him for his letter.  He texted back saying that he meant every word.  My favorite thing he wrote?  That my smile is the most beautiful decoration in our home. 

I went to bed so grateful and thankful for the best birthday ever.  And to think that some people might have said that I am "over the hill".  Not in my book.  I just lived a fairytale.

They are perfect to me

Several years ago, I read an article regarding the mixed messages that are sent to our daughters (I didn't have any at the time.) telling them that they are "pretty" when they have their hair, make up, accessories, and outfits done to perfection. Actually, it was probably telling them that they would be pretty after doing those things. I made note of that, telling myself that I wouldn't do that if I were to ever have daughters. I was going to teach them that they were always pretty.

But, as soon as my daughter B came to us, I wanted her to feel loved, accepted and "pretty" even though she would never look like the rest of our family. I've always called her "Pretty Girl". Then when S came along, I didn't want her not to feel pretty by not saying it to her, so she too became my "Pretty Girl".

We've had a lot of fun over here. The girls and I. They've inherited a love for lip gloss, and purses, heels, dresses, hair accessories, jewelry, princess dresses, fairy dresses, fairy wings, perfume, (they have extraordinary taste) and all things girly.

At just two and three years of age, my daughters have caught on to this whole pretty thing. They sneak out to the car and apply my lip gloss and then ask me if they're pretty. The same goes for dresses and perfume and other makeup. Obviously, my mental note about telling my girls they are pretty when all decked out wasn't written in Sharpie.

The other day B was in a princess dress and fell down on the floor sobbing that she wouldn't look like a princess without lip gloss. Just this past week at the grocery store, she told me that she needed lip gloss to make her look pretty. I gasped as I heard her say that. Had I really taught my daughters that they needed all the outside influences to be pretty? As we stood there next to the red leaf lettuce in the grocery store, I explained that she was pretty all the time and not just when she had lip gloss on. I was ready to go granola for life. I practically do. Thank goodness for Sundays because I look good at least one day a week. As we made our way around the produce section I thought about how I might teach my daughters that they are beautiful. Truly beautiful and how to recognize it in every stage of their lives.

I haven't stopped thinking about it.

I see the world's influence on beauty all around me. The songs, the magazines, movies, makeover shows, billboards, photo shopping, etc. It's all around us. The pressure to be good enough. Look good enough. To look cute, pretty, hot, skinny, stunning, beautiful, gorgeous or even perfect.

My heart is full. It was fifteen years ago today that I sat on my couch watching 60 minutes, while C and A were running around playing with their Easter baskets and D was sitting at the kitchen table making a wax model for school. It was a 60 minutes that I had looked forward to watching. Our beloved prophet Gordon B. Hinckley was to be interviewed. I remember watching it with a smile, grateful that he was my prophet. They also interviewed other prominent men in our LDS church. I remember hearing a story from Willard Marriott, the owner of the Marriott Hotels, that made me turn to D and tell him what a neat story that was. You can read the entire thing here. I found it online yesterday. I cried and cried as I read it. It was as though I had just watched it yesterday. It was just as I had remembered it. There it was with the exact date and even the mention of it being Easter Sunday. I felt like I had found a piece of my very own personal history. A real treasure.

That Easter Sunday, and just four hours after watching my Prophet be interviewed, I too would have a story similar to Brother Marriott's. I had seen a miracle. And it was beautiful.

I'm used to my burned legs. They're me. They're beautiful. They're a reminder of the miracles I witnessed and a loving Heavenly Father that knows me personally. I see my legs all the time. I see the scars and grafts and just recognize them as my legs.

Remember that picture of me showing off my cowboy boots? That was the first time in fifteen years that I had seen my legs. Looking at them, not down at them. I saw a graft like anyone else would see it.

I think about my legs. I'll be honest. I haven't always loved them. I remember a good guy friend in High School telling me that I didn't have any ankles. That one stuck. I must have penned that mental note with a Sharpie. I have huge calves. Over the last several years I've added grafts, scars from an ACL repair, a dog bite, varicose and spider veins. The world would hide my legs. They're anything but perfect!

There was a time where I couldn't even imagine walking again. My new skin was so tight that my knees wouldn't bend. I worried that the grafts would pop off. That I would be back in the operating room to repair them. (Remember I'm a worrier. It runs my life, but I'm working on that.)

I think of all the things I've been able to do with my legs since then. I was able to play basketball again with my sisters. It was just 5 minutes of playing before my knee decided to go out and need surgery. But, those five minutes of play and hearing my dad/high school coach say that I still had it, will keep me going the rest of my life. Thank you dad.

I've taken up running and done a lot of it. I've run with my children. As a sprinter growing up I never thought I'd run long distances for fun. But I ran a half marathon just before having little g.

All my bulging veins remind me of the four pregnancies I've had since then. I'm grateful for each one of my children.

Although I didn't appreciate the dog bite, it takes me back to when I went to check on one of my young women when I was serving as the president. I'll never stop thinking about her and wondering if she is okay.

I've learned that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. I recently heard that we see what we're looking for. It really is all about looking for the good. I can't help but do that with my legs. You can read more here. I want my children to recognize what makes people beautiful. Yes, personal appearance/grooming is a factor. But to really recognize the selflessness, the patience, the generosity, the humility, the confidence, the integrity, the positive attitude, the virtue, and the personal experiences that make a person who they are, are the qualities that really make a person beautiful.

I'll continue to tell my daughters that they're pretty. But it won't be conditioned on the fact of whether or not they have make up on, the perfect cute little earrings, or a new dress. I want to be the one that teaches them what beautiful is and not what the world says it is. I want my children to recognize the Lord's hand in making them beautiful. It's a process. It comes through trials, experiences, having faith, and choosing to see good. I want them to be able to recognize it in others.

After all, it's much more than becoming pretty. It's about becoming beautiful. Because that kind of beauty is truly attractive and timeless.

We believe that when we are resurrected, our bodies will be in their perfect state. I hope that my legs remain the way that they are, because they are perfect to me.

He says I'm gorgeous

He'll be across the room and then say, "Hi gorgeous" as serious as can be. I look up and smile at my cute 5 year old little g. Wish I could bottle him up and keep him this way forever.

Wednesday I asked little g if he wanted to go to the school's Mom and Son dance. With his cute little lisp he said, "Yeth". He was thrilled at the thought of just me and him.

Thursday as I was making dinner he came in and said, "Mom, all those kids at the dance are going to say that mom is gorgeous. Then they'll wish you were their mom." Oh my heck. He is so dang cute!!

We walked into the dance last night hand in hand and before I could ever set my purse down we were out on the dance floor. Within seconds of arriving my eyes were welling up. I was so happy. I was having one of those true moments of joy. Just after that he dropped my hands, fell to the floor and started to break dance. It was awesome! :)

A couple songs later as we were slow dancing he dropped my hands again and blew me a kiss. Seriously. I need a bottle right now!! I was practically a puddle on the floor at that point.

After awhile it began to turn into a mosh pit with boys jumping, wrestling, and chasing. Boys will be boys.

I'll always be grateful for my date with little g, the boy that says I'm gorgeous. Especially when my bangs are braided back, my hair is in a ponytail and my head is on a weird angle with a jaw that's twice the size of my forehead. Just sayin'. :)

Just the way you are

Lots of things on my mind this new year of 2011. Parties to plan, trips to book, reunions to attend, parents coming home, kindergarten graduation, high school graduation, another driver, a new deacon, a new priest, a new elder, C's mission, twenty year wedding anniversary, turning 40 and have I mentioned my quarenta-era? te he

Despite all those neat and exciting things ahead, my anxiety decided to show up again while I was visiting my parents. It's still lingering. It usually takes several weeks for me to get back to "me" again. I'm working on it. I'll get there. I've had a couple neat experiences and received some tender mercies from my Heavenly Father so I know that I'm not having to do this on my own.

One of the downfalls of anxiety and the panic attacks are thinking that you're a real mental case. Seriously. The thought occured to me, or the worry rather, that what if D sends me away to the mental hospital some day? That he might not want me if I'm crazy. Welcome to my world of psychoticness. That's what anxiety does. You are NOT yourself!!

Tonight I was going over pictures that we had taken of our family in December. There are some that just made me smile. Like really smile. I put this one up on my screen saver.

I thought, "I look cute in this picture". Surely D likes me right now. Then I remembered this song that I heard for the first time a few weeks ago. It's a MUST!! Go to itunes and buy it RIGHT NOW! It's called, "Just the way you are" by Bruno Mars. S and I danced to it while I sang in her ear. She was cute and sang along with me when it got to, "way you are".

I LOVE this song. I love imagining D singing it to me. I'm fine if it's just Bruno singing it to me. It's so great. It should be on a Dove commercial. It's a song that my girls are going to grow up with.

Anyway...I'm tearing up right now thinking about it. Surely I have shared way too much this time. But, I'm glad that I've got a guy that does love me just the way I am. Big hair or a bun. Great cook or frozen dinners. Ironed shirts or piles of clothes. Confident or anxious. He believes in me. He's patient with me. He loves me. It's much more than looking cute in a picture or fitting in my skinny jeans. It's loving everything about me or rather accepting everything about me and embracing the woman, wife and mother that I am despite my imperfections, fears and weaknesses.

I'm looking forward to this year and all the new changes it will bring. Glad I get to share it with you D. I love you. Just the way YOU are.

*Didn't I tell you how awesome this song was? It'll probably play a few hundred times on my ipod the next while. :)

My quarenta-era

D and I just got back from a quinceañera. All I can say is, I want to be 15 again and wear that girl's dress!! It was the most gorgeous dress I have ever seen in my life. It had the perfect shades of turquoise, tons of rhinestones all over the fitted bodice and a huge "Glenda" like skirt. Oh, to be a princess. Oh to wear that dress. I want that dress, and the tiara, and the rhinestone jewelry and the silver strappy heels.

Somehow, some day, I'm going to wear a dress like that. Mark my word. You'll be seeing me in a dress like that. Maybe for my very own quarenta-era. I love it. I've got a year and a half to plan the biggest party of my life. ha ha Just me and my dress, and a bunch of girl friends that can tell me how gorgeous my dress and I are of course. lol

Being feminine

Ever since I can remember, I have loved "girly" things. I've loved purses, make up, lipgloss, jewelry, dresses, skirts, high heels, pretty much anything that's feminine.

When I was in highschool, I felt as though I had to go to great lengths to be known as feminine. I played sports and would sometimes be referred to as a jock. I HATED that! Let me make myself clear on that. I HATED being called a jock!! That wasn't girly at all. I was simply a girl that was athletic and enjoyed playing sports. I didn't want to be confused with other girl athletes that didn't ever carry purses, wouldn't wear skirts, etc.

Tonight as I read the words of James E. Foust regarding womanhood, I was touched to really learn what femininity is. He said this:

"I wonder if you sisters fully understand the greatness of your gifts and talents and how all of you can achieve the “highest place of honor” in the Church and in the world. One of your unique, precious, and sublime gifts is your femininity, with its natural grace, goodness, and divinity. Femininity is not just lipstick, stylish hairdos, and trendy clothes. It is the divine adornment of humanity. It finds expression in your qualities of your capacity to love, your spirituality, delicacy, radiance, sensitivity, creativity, charm, graciousness, gentleness, dignity, and quiet strength. It is manifest differently in each girl or woman, but each of you possesses it. Femininity is part of your inner beauty.

One of your particular gifts is your feminine intuition. Do not limit yourselves. As you seek to know the will of our Heavenly Father in your life and become more spiritual, you will be far more attractive, even irresistible. You can use your smiling loveliness to bless those you love and all you meet, and spread great joy. Femininity is part of the God-given divinity within each of you. It is your incomparable power and influence to do good. You can, through your supernal gifts, bless the lives of children, women, and men. Be proud of your womanhood. Enhance it. Use it to serve others."

I am humbled at his words.

I am humbled to be a woman.

I am humbled to have been blessed with the gift of femininity. It's much more than my newest shade of lipgloss.

Now is the time to return to virtue

I am on a high lately. I'm feeling liberated.

I'm preparing a really neat activity for young womens on Wednesday. I'll be talking to the young women and their mothers about virtue with the theme being, "Now is the time to return to virtue". I found a really neat video clip that I sobbed through all three times I watched it. I then found another faithful thought for myself.

Your Father in Heaven knows your name and knows your circumstance. He hears your prayers. He knows your hopes and dreams, including your fears and frustrations. And He knows what you can become through faith in Him. ~Jeffrey R. Holland

Isn't that amazing? I love it.

As for keeping it real like my new header says, I've been sick all day. You can have too much of a good thing. I should have stopped with my one piece of elderberry pie last night. A piece for breakfast pushed my body over the edge and I was in the bathroom all day. Needless to say, I can't make myself eat another piece for awhile.

Oh ya, I've still got it goin' on!

I took four of the kids to Port of Subs tonight. We ordered a couple of sandwiches and handed the cashier our Cougar card. (a fundraiser discount card) The lady then told me that the man ahead of us had already paid for it. "Really?" I was shocked. Someone would really buy dinner for me and four of my children? What a pleasant surprise. What a gentleman. Suddenly I remembered all those movie scenes where the man buys the lady a drink and the bartender points him out to the lady. Where was the man that bought my sandwiches? He had slipped out without giving me the chance to thank him. Then I got thinking to myself...

Wow, I've still got it goin' on!

Or is it, I've still got it on?

Oh, I definitely still had it on alright.

I had the racquetball outfit on.
Had the kink in the hair from the ponytail earlier today on.
Had the flip flops on.
Had the full on granola, no makeup, but most definitely nivea on.

A real beaut!

Got me thinking again. Isn't it amazing how something so small can be so huge? Just last week I handed a man a note at the DMV, and quickly disappeared, never knowing how it impacted him. Now this man had done the same for me. It made me feel beautiful. It's gone full circle.

Whether I'm in fabulous jeans, a trendy blouse, chunky jewelry, great clutch, freshly done makeup and hair or out with my kids picking up sandwiches...I'm glad that I've learned that got it goin' on is being aware of those around me. Being able to recognize and appreciate others confidence, their sacrifices, their hard work, their patience, their service, and then doing something about it.

Now that's, got it goin' on.

And a HUGE thank you to the man that bought my sandwiches and made my day.

Smiles at the DMV

-Well, I went with C to get his drivers license today. We anxiously sat there at the DMV waiting to hear his name called. When we heard his name, I smiled and quietly wished him good luck. While he was gone, I caught myself smiling again. As I looked around, I felt as though I was at the State Fair back in Kentucky. Actually there would have had to have been a lot of smoking and lots of missing teeth. Or maybe a day at Walmart. I'm such a people watcher. It was such a funny observation. I live in such a diverse place. Which I love!! There was every kind of outfit, hair do, old jeans, too small of jeans, fifteen year ago hair dos, etc. I love that we're all different.

About twenty minutes later, my teenager walks towards me with a huge smile on his face. Yes, he passed. On his first try.

My next observation made me smile once again. I saw a man standing in line waiting to take the written test. He an obvious burn victim, had grafting on his neck, his nose reconstructed, and some of his fingers missing. I found myself staring at him. I loved how he stood in line with confidence. I thought about how many people must stare at him in a day. We stare because we're curious. Just trying to figure it out. Seeing that man was like a tender mercy. After longing to tell Nie Nie that she was beautiful, I truly believe that that man was there so that I could have my chance. Well, after the week I've had, I knew that I had to do more than just stare and think to myself. I needed to think out loud. I quickly found a piece of scratch paper and wrote him a note. It said...

Dear Sir, I too was seriously burned several years ago. I smiled when I saw you. I admire your confidence and all that you've been through. I just want you to know that you're beautiful. Have a good afternoon.

I quickly handed him the note when our number was called to go get the license. C wondered why I felt an urgency to give this stranger a note. All I could say was, "I really feel like I'm supposed to do this." As I walked away I was on a high that I haven't felt in a long time. I got thinking, maybe this is how I can help for now.

Finally, as we sat down at the counter with our information. The man asked for $3. What? It's only $3? Trust me, that brought another smile to my face. Nothing at the DMV is that cheap!

It was a great day at the DMV. Smiles all around.

This one's for the girls

I LOVE this song! (THIS ONE'S FOR THE GIRLS by Martina McBride) It makes me think back on all the stages of my life and makes me smile. I'm grateful for those teen years. They were great. I watched my senior year homecoming video yesterday. C thought it looked like the Karate Kid. Good. We loved that show.

I rember those years in Kentucky. Our starving years. Yet, I never felt like we were. I met amazing people, I grew as a person, I learned to love everything about it. Nothing wrong with mac and cheese days. It's made me appreciate everything I have and have become now.

As for 42. It's not too far off. After being asked if my children were my grandbabies this past week, I was not happy! But...hey, all my laugh lines on my face. What a blessing. Why should I worry about them when they're proof that I'm having a wonderful life and I'm constantly being told that I smile and laugh all the time. I think about myself at 37. I'm still the same girl I've always been, just better. After all, 40 is the new 30. I'm going to cling to that for three years then pray 50 does the same thing.

While sitting in church today, I was thinking about the woman I've become. I led the music and smiled the entire time. I even led 6/8. But I messed up on the cut off at the end. I didn't know how to do it. So, I smiled and gave myself away. I would have been in tears, ornery and pouting 20 years ago. I've come a long way! It's just a little thing, but it's changed my life.

Beauty is confidence. It's a sense of humor. It's genuinely caring for others. It's having class. It's dealing with things gracefully. It's being loyal. It's being a hard worker. It's having faith in God. I've learned these things from other beautiful women I've known. The kind of woman I hope to be.

My uncle stayed with me a few days last week. I heard that he told my grandma that the thing that left the biggest impression on him while visiting was...he could tell that I enjoyed my kids and that I really had fun with them. That makes me happy!

As for throwing those pennies into the fountain of youth, I'll toss a few. Yes, I'll still try Amy's cream (Nivea?), I've got some gray sprouts in my part that need a good color soon, I'll still go to the gym and go for a good run outside, but life is good and I'm happy.

So girls...love all the stages of your life, look forward to what's coming, smile and laugh and embrace all those laugh lines on your face. They're beautiful.