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It’s the first Monday in September and I am sick. Sick as a dog.

Have I ever told you that I have this weird thing where I have to start things on a Monday? Or on the first of the month? I can’t start a diet on Wednesday because that is the middle of the week so rather than spend part of a week eating well and exercising, I will consume anything that doesn’t eat me first before starting my diet on Monday. And when it comes to this blog (which I have devoted myself to updating more regularly and have set out over and over again to do just that since last January) I had big plans to kick off September bringing you witty stories about motherhood and craft projects that would inspire you so much, you’d leave home in your jammies and camp outside of Michael’s because you’d be so eager to get started. I envisioned myself having this detailed calendar and a perfect desk and of course, I’d be ten pounds lighter while I wrote to you from my pretty, Pinterest-worthy office. I even got a new haircut, one with bangs, which my stylist said were “so hot this fall” so I could be a new and better me come September. And here I am…I am sick. Sick as a dog.

So, instead of running from this blog another day, I am going to be honest with you since you’ve caught me without any makeup on, wearing my husband’s shirt which is stained with drips of Diet Coke that I spit all over during a coughing fit. I’m going to just get some things off my Vic’s Vapor Rubbed chest (which may help me breathe so my husband doesn’t think he’s sleeping next to Darth Vadar.) Here goes; a list of my truths:

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If you asked me what the greatest compliment I ever got was, I’d lie and tell you some sweet story, like the time my mom said that I took to motherhood naturally. The truth is, the best compliment I ever got was from some kids at an inner-city daycare where I once volunteered who told me that I didn’t dance like a white girl. Of that, I am proud.

I really do hate all but the white tip of candy corn and in a blind taste-test, I guarantee I could identify the colors.

The scariest thing I’ve ever done is try to make something of myself while trying to raise someone else. Everyday I worry about letting one of us down.

Sometimes people ask me about our co-sleeping arrangement with pity in their voices, like, “Oh! That sucks for you that your baby sleeps in your bed.” The truth is we love having our daughter in our room. In what has been the hardest year of our lives/marriage, having that time for the three of us to cling to each other at night has kept us anchored.

I used to be a swimsuit model. I was like eight-years-old but I did model swimsuits for a sales circular in the Sunday paper so therefore I was a “swimsuit model.”

I was alone with Jerry O’Connell in an elevator once in Louisville. He asked me if I was going to vote for Hilary or Obama. I just said, “I still have nightmares about you running from that train in Stand by Me.” Then we went our separate ways. This is just one example of my stunning social grace.

Motherhood has made me tougher and more tender all at once. To be quite honest, I was never really comfortable in my skin until I became a mother. I know that might not be the most feminist thing to say but it is true. I was born for this.

Sometimes my quiet-nature is mistaken as weakness. I am not weak and nothing makes me more angry than for someone to underestimate me.

That’s not true; nothing makes me more angry than someone underestimating me because I am a mother. Yes, I can recite every Yo-Gabba-Gabba song, I spend my days with a toddler and a dog and I usually look crazy because I’m doing 50 things at once but, I AM DOING 50 THINGS AT ONCE. I particularly hate when a man writes me off about something. It makes me want to say, “Yeah, you couldn’t last an hour.”

I get a little freaked out when people talk about space…like, the final frontier. Okay, I get really freaked out so let’s stop talking about it.

I was an adult when I realized that buffalo still exist. I thought they were extinct and was amazed by, quote, “the mechanical buffalo” at Dixie Stampede. My husband tells this story often at social gatherings because he’s charming like that.

Speaking of my husband, I can tell you with complete honesty that I knew the moment I saw him walk to the pool when we were teenagers that I would one day marry him. That is lame, I know, and I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes but it is the truth.

I am terrified of waste. I think that’s why I’m so passionate about repurposing things. And it’s probably why I struggle with my weight. I hate for anything to be wasted.

I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life but when I’m stressed, I “crave” the smell of a cigarette.

The way to my heart: A Fountain Diet Coke, bag of M&Ms and a new People magazine. It’s awful but I love celebrity gossip.

I hate when someone criticizes another person’s tastes. That makes me crazy.

And say what you will, but I love Michael Jackson. His music always puts me in a good mood.

I cannot and will not keep myself from singing along with “Midnight Train to Georgia.”

I could never read Fifty Shades of Grey and be turned on by that for two reasons: First, if a man even playfully hurt me, I’d go all caged-animal on him and probably rip his ear off. Second, I think a sexier plot line would be a story about a man who checks his wife’s “Dream House” board on Pinterest and surprises her with new butcher block counter tops and a farm sink. Hint, hint, Mr. Hervey.

I’ve learned the hard way that anyone who tells you how lucky you were to have them is really afraid you’ll realize how lucky they were to have you.

If I never finish or publish a novel or write anything else besides “Kentucky A to Z,” I am proud of myself for going out on my own despite how crazy everyone thought I was for doing so. I want to teach my daughter to take risks and to never, ever settle. (See previous statement.)

And my last truth-gem for the night: I really do want this blog to be a place you can come and find a friend. I’m sorry I forget that I can come here and find the same. I’m sorry I get so caught up in making it and myself shine that I forget to keep it real.

So, goodnight my friends. I’m off to re-vaporize myself with Vic’s, snuggle with my loves and toast to new beginnings with some cold medicine. What are you most excited about changing this season?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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