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I just want you to know that I’m pretty sure the oak pollen is trying to kill me dead. I know this because I sneezed approximately 5,432 times yesterday. And you know that I never exaggerate.

And if the oak pollen doesn’t kill me then I’m pretty sure the huge packets of math homework that Caroline has brought home every day this week will. Especially yesterday’s packet that consisted of one whole page of problems dedicated to figuring out various costs and mileage of some family’s vacation that I neither know nor care about.

But maybe I’m just a little edgy right now. You want to know why?

Smart Barre.

My abs have been sore for three weeks straight now. And some days I’m not sure that my triceps aren’t going to just fall off.

As I drove to my 9:45 class Tuesday morning, I finally pinpointed my real issue with working out. You have to keep doing it to get and maintain results. You know who I blame for this?

That’s right.

(Side note: Look at the music on that workout video. Boz Skaggs? Sign me up.)

Until she donned those jaunty legwarmers and filmed On Golden Pond looking all tanned and toned, exercise wasn’t necessarily a thing. I mean, sure, some people did it but it wasn’t so much an aerobic workout as it was standing on one of those machine things with a large band around you that was supposed to shake off your extra fat.

Yes.

And so maybe those didn’t work out so well, but they did allow you the luxury of wearing fancy red flats with a nice pleated skirt. So there’s that.

But now there’s pressure to be “in shape” and “work on your cardio” and “quit eating ice cream for dinner”. Which is why over the last several years I’ve done Couch to Almost 5K (That’s my own personal version), the 30 Day Shred with Jillian Michaels, and Body by Bethenny. There may have even been a few days I pulled out my Elle MacPherson workout video from college.

Then I went through a spell where I thought I could just workout at home and follow all the different workouts that I pin on Pinterest. But the problem is that pinning them doesn’t actually do anything. You have to actually do them. And it’s hard for me to get motivated because the following is how I feel a lot of the time.

Anyway, enough of my exercise issues, the truth is that I actually don’t mind Smart Barre all that much. Except for when we’re doing the glutes portion of the workout and I’m pretty sure my whole backside is about to cramp up and I’m going to start screaming about Shetland ponies.

All this to say that I’m really not sure why it just dawned on me, at forty-one years old, that exercise is a lifestyle change and, sadly, not like doing your income taxes. Just a few painful days and then it’s all over for another year.

But I am pretty sure this illustration sums up my Smart Barre experience.

My headache is back again tonight. And so I’m about to treat myself to some peppermint oil and go climb in bed. But first I thought I’d share a few things that are currently on my list of favorites. Because I’m a giver.

1. sally hansen colorfast tint + moisture lip balm

So I bought this on a whim the other day because I was all WHAT? Sally Hansen makes something besides nail products?

After much deliberation, I decided on a shade called happy berry. Not to be confused with Halle Berry. And I’m a fan. I love that it’s just a big fat pencil like thing, but moisturizes like a real lip balm. Plus the color actually lasts.

2. garnier miracle skin corrector bb cream

Remember when I talked about BB creams about a month ago? At that point I hadn’t tried the Garnier version.

Now I have. And the verdict is I’m a fan. A big fan. I’ve been using it every morning instead of my Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer. It goes on smooth and a little goes a long way.

3. the home tee

I ordered the Texas version of this shirt and LOVE it. It’s so soft and a great fit. I even ordered the small and it’s plenty big even though I normally get a medium in most shirts.

Best of all, you can get one with whatever state you’d like and part of the proceeds go toward Multiple Sclerosis research.

4. striped infinity scarf

This weekend I bought one of these for Caroline. Granted, it wasn’t from Sam Moon, but it is a striped infinity scarf and it is so soft. Not to mention they’re only $6.00.

5. a little salty to cut the sweet

Y’all. My friend Sophie’s first book comes out in just a little over a month. And I am so excited about it.

I mean I’ve already read it. So mainly I’m just excited for you because you get to read it and it’s so funny and sweet and good. Just like Sophie.

You can read more about it and even download the first chapter on her book page.

6. OPI don’t pretzel my buttons

A few days ago, I was on the Twitter and happened to notice that Christy Nockels tweeted about this nail polish color. And so, obviously, I went to the store to see it for myself.

If you’re a fan of a good, natural color, this one is just about perfect. I’ve had it on my toes for three days now and it makes me happy every time I see it. It’s a nice change from all the Easter egg colors I’ve had lately.

I really thought I might have a few more things, but I think that’s it for today. I have a big date with peppermint oil and a bedtime that would make a grandma jealous.

On Sunday night some friends of ours invited us over for dinner. And their offer of homemade fish tacos sounded much more appealing than what I had planned to cook, which was nothing. Not to mention that we love spending time with them, and their daughter, Ella, is one of Caroline’s good friends.

While we visited in the kitchen, the girls ran back and forth between the house and the backyard playing soccer and I don’t know what else but just doing what nine-year-old girls do. Then at one point they ran in the kitchen together and Caroline asked, “Mom? What are those small horses called? I said the name but Ella said I said a bad word!”

I was slightly confused because my mind wasn’t really thinking about small horses and so I asked, “What? What are you talking about?”

Caroline replied, “Aren’t those small horses called Shi*land ponies?”

I laughed and said, “No. They’re called Shetland ponies.”

And then she and Ella died laughing because I had confirmed that Caroline had said a bad word and there isn’t much funnier than an inadvertent cuss word when you’re nine.

Then tonight I was tucking her in bed and she began to laugh and said, “Remember last night when I said ‘Shi*land pony?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“That was so funny!”

“I know. But it’s not a word you need to say. It’s a bad word and not ladylike.”

She looked at me for a minute and then asked, “What does it mean?”

And so I opened Pandora’s box and said, “It’s another word for poop. So maybe you were just describing a horse that poops a lot.”

Listen. That line was a crowd pleaser. She collapsed into giggles and gave me a smile that was totally worth the inappropriate conversation.

I finished tucking her in, we said our prayers and then as I kissed her goodnight she let out a huge toot from under the covers.

And she exclaimed, “MOM! I THINK I JUST SHI*LAND PONIED IN MY PANTS!”

I blame her father.

*****

On a serious note, prayers and thoughts going out to Boston today. Our hearts are heavy.

Well.

I’m back.

Last week was one of those weeks that was just really hard. I had some sort of stress trifecta that included a headache that wouldn’t go away, preparing to speak at an event, and raging PMS. I was every bit as delightful to be around in person as you would imagine.

But now I have a week of nothing ahead of me and I couldn’t be happier. I have big plans to do things like grocery shop for real food and toilet paper. Of course, that’s a stretch goal. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

I so appreciate all your prayers and emails and encouragement. I think the weekend event went well based on the women’s responses. Or maybe they’re all just a big bunch of liars. I don’t know for sure, but I’m choosing to believe God showed up in spite of all my flaws and shortcomings and random stories about throwing up in front of Ann Voskamp on a bus in Ecuador.

And, in an astonishing turn of events, I was introduced to a miracle cure for headaches. After I spoke on Friday night, my head was absolutely pounding and one of the sweet women introduced me to the wonder that is peppermint oil.

Do you know about this?

And, if so, why have you not told me? I thought we were friends.

She showed me how to rub a drop or two of peppermint oil into my forehead and temples. And then rub a small amount on the back of my neck and then take a few deep breaths of it. But not too deep or you might hack and cough like you just smoked a pack of Marlboros. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

It is unbelievable. After six days of a headache that felt like it was nonstop, the peppermint oil brought me relief. And made me smell delightfully like Christmas.

So now it’s just a matter of time before I go full on hippie and start collecting all manner of essential oils to cure all manner of ailments. Please tell me if you know more about this. What other oils can I use to make my life so much better than it is right now?

I drove home from the retreat on Saturday morning because Caroline had a soccer game at 10:30 and I really wanted to make at least the last half of the game. But when I was just about halfway home, P called to let me know the other team didn’t show up and so there was no rush. Which I took as my cue to stop at Sonic for a breakfast burrito and a large diet Coke. Because I hadn’t really been able to eat for about three days due to nerves (I’m telling you. I’m a JOY to be around prior to a speaking engagement.) and I was starving.

That Sonic breakfast burrito never had a chance. I scarfed it down in 2.8 seconds and almost ate the foil wrapper it came in and even forgot my bitterness that they hadn’t put my tots in the bag.

When I arrived at the soccer fields, I watched the last ten minutes of Caroline scrimmaging with her own team. And then it was all over and I spent the five minutes it took us to drive home listening to Caroline complain about the bitter cruelty of life because she was ready to play a REAL soccer game and the other team didn’t show up. Which, yes. That’s awful. But also falls square into the category of Things I Can’t Change and, also, Things We Might Be Overly Emotional About. The latter category seems to be increasing in both frequency and size these days.

Then I officially realized I am old because I arrived home and was so excited to discover the new towels I’d ordered for the bathroom were in. NEW TOWELS! NEW WHITE TOWELS! I’d been putting off buying new towels forever because, well, towels. But our old ones are almost ten years old and starting to show a little wear. By which I mean they might be mistaken for dust rags.

And then Caroline and I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond because I felt like my new towels deserved new bath mats. But I couldn’t decide on what style of bath mat I wanted and they didn’t have any like my old ones and, ultimately, I decided I should probably walk before I run. Neither Rome nor my master bath was built in a day.

The other exciting turn of events on Saturday (Exciting being a relative term and assuming you have nothing else going on) was when the guy from the insurance company came to inspect our roof and declared we need a totally new roof after the Easter hail storm. I realize I should be a little sad that the prospect of a new roof makes me happy, but I’m just going to own it.

New roof? New towels? Possibly new bath mats on the horizon? What are we? George and Weezie Jefferson?

Because it sure feels like we’re movin’ on up.

Oh. Except for the fact that I just set this to post and realized it’s Tax Day. The new bath mats may have to wait.

Y’all.

It’s time for me to be honest. I mean I’m always honest, but I’m just going to give it to you straight.

I’ve been fighting a headache for the last six days. And before you tell me a bunch of horror stories about headaches and what they could possibly mean, I will tell you that I am capable of going to Hyper-Paranoid, USA all by myself. I’m sure it’s just sinus/allergies/devil considering the entire world is covered in pollen right now and the Texas weather can’t decide if it wants to be 95 degrees or 45 degrees so it just goes back and forth every couple of days.

In addition to my new status of headache sufferer, I’m speaking at a women’s retreat for my church this weekend. And that feels like it comes with extra pressure because, you know, if I bomb then we’ll have to look for a new church home and we really like our church. I’ve spent the last few days trying to finalize what I’m going to talk about and it’s been a struggle to get it to all come together. And the headache isn’t helping matters.

In fact, yesterday I decided to go get this thirty-minute trigger point massage thing in an attempt to help my headache because it seemed like a good idea. And I guess it would have been, except the sweet girl really had no idea what a trigger point was and the whole thing ended up feeling like that episode of Friends when Ross has to fake being a masseuse for one of Phoebe’s clients and he just massages him with wooden spoons. I’d have been better off buying one of those head tingler things they sell in kiosks at the mall.

And, finally, P called and left me a message from soccer practice last night informing me that Caroline had taken a soccer ball to the mouth and her tooth was loose and she’d need to eat soup for dinner.

Yes.

Because soup was the most important thing.

Was this a permanent tooth? Top or bottom? Was there blood? Did I need to call an emergency dentist? Those were all the questions I had other than what she’d need to eat for dinner. But since those answers weren’t going to available until they got home from practice, I just poured myself a large glass of wine. And heated up some chicken noodle soup.

When they arrived home I was relieved to hear it was a bottom tooth and that it didn’t appear to be out of place or anything, just a little loose. Part of my relief was due to the fact that Caroline might enjoy having a false tooth just a little too much. She’s a fan of anything that might be a gateway to a gross party trick.

But it doesn’t appear we’re headed down that road. Although she sipped and slurped her chicken noodle soup at a DEFCON 1 level of drama. I finally just had to walk away because I was seconds from calling a mortuary as I died a slow death watching her painstakingly eat that soup like her jaw was wired shut.

Anyway, all this is a long way of explaining that I’m taking a break from the blog for the rest of the week. I just need some time to rest and prepare for this weekend. And, to that end, I would so appreciate any prayers you want to send my way.

Thanks, y’all. See you next week.

So our weekend kicked off with the annual school carnival on Friday afternoon. Otherwise known as a giant beating to help the school make money.

I signed up to work the bake sale during the first shift so I told Caroline to meet me at the booth as soon as she got out of school and I also told her that she was UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES to win a hermit crab or a fish. I have no desire to ever own either of those ever again because they never fail to present me with a moral dilemma. Do I let them starve to death or do I feed them since I know Caroline is the Dr. Kevorkian of the sea life world?

The practical side of me says I just let them starve. But that feels so wrong. Of course it may be better than whatever fate met the two crabs that accidentally got set free in our backyard last fall. I’m 58% sure I saw a tiny crab claw hanging out of our dog Bruiser’s mouth one day. And, truth be told, I went ahead and just flushed our betta fish, Ruby Red Shankle, before she was dead but didn’t look like she was long for this world.

The problem is that every now and then Caroline will watch that episode of Phineas and Ferb where Buford loses his pet goldfish, Biff, and she’ll start to cry about how much she misses all the fish she’s killed over the years.

Which is why I said NO GOLDFISH.

But then I arrived at the carnival a few minutes before school dismissed and discovered there were bigger fish to fry. No pun intended. Specifically, the bake sale was sorely lacking in actual baked goods. I’m not sure what went wrong but somewhere someone lost the memo that they needed to send out a form requesting that parents send in baked goods. And so there was a mom frantically cutting the two cakes into slices and declaring the cake walk would be renamed a “Treat Walk”.

What the heck? You think these kids are just going to walk around and around to music for one slice of cake?

Which, actually, is what happened. They were perfectly happy to get two cookies for their cake-walking efforts and fortunately there was some sort of baked goods SOS sent out and moms began to appear out of nowhere with all manner of store bought bakery items.

And just about the time I began to dole out cupcakes for two tickets each, my child appeared in front of me. Holding a goldfish. Or three.

What part of her mother’s fragile psyche does she not understand?

She spent the rest of her time running around with her friends trying to make the largest ball of silly string while her goldfish friends camped out by me at the bake sale. And then when I announced it was time to leave, a miracle happened. Caroline announced she was giving her goldfish to one of her friends. Maybe because she sensed I was tempted to put her and the goldfish up for adoption and figured she might as well save herself.

And so we left the carnival without a fish. Hallelujah and amen.

On Saturday morning we drove across town for a soccer game and then we picked up Chick-Fil-A for lunch. P was astounded that our lunch cost $17.00 which I feel is a direct result of me telling him everything is $15.00. He’s a little out of touch with the current economy with the exception of guns and ammo for which there is no price too high to pay.

We actually got into a conversation about guns and he said that a friend of his always says his greatest fear is that he’ll die and his wife will sell his guns for what he told her he paid for them. Which is how I feel about the throw pillows on my couch. And the couch itself. And my jeans. And basically everything else I’ve ever bought for myself or this house.

Saturday night Caroline was going to spend the night with a friend but came home early as per her custom. Of course she didn’t decide to come home until 11:30. And between those late night shenanigans and a headache that won’t go away, I decided we needed to sleep in on Sunday morning.

Then later that day we went to a hockey game with a group of friends. Because you know what’s soothing for a headache?

Not a hockey game. But we had a good time and I didn’t have to cook dinner because we went to eat afterwards and that felt like a win even though our hockey team lost.

At least I think they did. I wasn’t really paying attention.

And that was our weekend. Here’s hoping things went as swimmingly for the goldfish in his new home that is, thankfully, not mine.