Friday's Confession ...
Sometimes I get on Husband's nerves. I know. It's hard to believe.
I broke out a shiny new comeback line on him this week. Come on over and let me know your best line ...
Winks & Smiles,
Friday’s confession …
That’s right, I said it. The scale is like a bad ex-boyfriend. You know the one that used to give you the runaround. Tell you sweet things then take them back. No, I’m really not jaded. Ahem. Let me explain …
Make sure to do something healthy today to take care of you.
Winks & Smiles,
Friday’s Confession …
I strayed from my clean-eating, seventeen-pounds plan and pretended that muffin tops are sexy when they’re really not for a brief moment this week. Oh, and I don’t feel guilty.
I’m back on track already. I’ve kissed the first three pounds goodbye and I’m sure that more have already disappeared. Too much obsession and restriction is not healthy and will ultimately lead to destruction (**insert wicked laugh here**).
Besides, I’m in for 18 miles in the morning. I’m quite sure that will handle my little guiltless splurge … and then some.
Winks & Smiles,
Friday’s Confession …
Friday’s Confession …
I killed two credit cards.
Friday’s Confession …
I’m old. I’m not just saying that because my 6-year-old asked me the other day if there were sports when I grew up.
Gasp!
“The same sports?”
She continued the abuse.
After clearing up that I am not 3900-years-old, only 39 I did realize that I’m feeling a bit old. Notice I said feeling. I believe that 39 is still young and apparently I try to act like it. I’m in three tennis leagues and I’m training for a marathon. At the same time. While the kids are out of school. No, I don’t smoke crack. but my body is sending me a message. I’m not 19 or 29 and while being active is important, not overtraining is equally as important.
With that said, I’m going to rest today before these boycott me …
Friday’s Confession …
I’m in love … with my new iPhone.
Friday’s Confession …
It’s the last day of school and I’m feeling conflicted. On one hand my kids are going to be home for 10 weeks (*insert feelings of maternal joy and loving smiles here*); and on the other hand my kids are going to be home for 10 weeks (*insert feelings of maternal panic and freaking out here*).
While I’m truly looking forward to a fun-filled summer of swimming, tennis, sleepovers and family bonding dare I say I will miss my school day me time? Not that I was really using it for me – no bon bons here, mostly work and household stuff – but still it was time I knew I could attempt to accomplish the fifty-million tasks on my To-Do list.
But, with that said, I am ready. Sort of. I’ve got Summer-Bridge workbooks, reading plans and incentives, a few weeks of camp lined up and calls in to all the grandparents for a little family relief. Oh, and a case of wine. I'm just sayin'.
How about you? What are your summer plans and how do you stay sane when school is out? Summertime mamas want to know …
Winks & Smiles,
Friday’s Confession …
I cooked dinner tonight for the first time in … um, a long time.
So, Paula Deen might be a bit of a stretch since I just made some spaghetti – but I did add ground turkey meat to the sauce that I doctored up after I poured it out of the jar – ahem. Look, it’s more than what’s been happening at Wifey’s House, but trust me everyone is being fed. Thank God for pre-cooked rotisserie chicken.
Between traveling, writing, event planning, the kids, the house, the dog, tennis, marathon training, did I mention Husband in there? Who am I kidding, you all know better than anyone else how life can have you spinning in circles. By the end of the day all I want to do is this:
Friday's Confession ...
I’m a sucker for my birthday … and a cute bag.
I’ve always been a big birthday celebrator. Even in my old age, ahem, Husband knows that I enjoy a little fuss and he’s such a good sport – he always delivers.
I came home on my birthday after taking Milan to gymnastics and found this on the front door.
Friday’s Confession …
I used to rock legwarmers, a headband and dream of doing this …
Friday’s Confession …
I’m bummed out that I wasn’t picked to run the New York City Marathon. Well, sort of. OK, not really. I was rejected by a random lottery so I’m not taking it personally that the computer didn’t like the number that they assigned me. Maybe next year.
In the meantime, I’ve got the fun task of picking another marathon to set my sights on. I also joined a training group last weekend and I’m super excited about running with and learning from this awesome group of people.
Friday’s Confession …
I LOVE being an Auntie. Big surprise, right? Yesterday was my first time babysitting my beautiful 3-month old niece, Haven, and she was a joy. I fed her, changed her, laughed with her, watched Yo Gabba Gabba! with her – shouts out to DJ Lance Rock. Ahem, don’t ask – and discovered I still have the magical touch to put babies to sleep.
I also discovered the five best things about being an Auntie. They are:
The love. Who knew you could love a little baby so much that wasn’t your own? And, she already told me with her eyes, “I love you, Auntie Lolo! You’re the best Auntie ever!”
I can sing. Well, I can’t. Nobody else wants to hear me sing, but my little niece does. She smiled and giggled. My kids politely ask me to stop.
The shopping. That’s right, a cute little girl needs cute little stuff. I’m not a big shopper but I can’t help myself sometimes when I see the adorable little girl clothes. Hmm, this could be on the top five worst things, too. Fortunately such a list does not exist.
They go home. Or you do. That’s right, I said it. Refer to the first item on the list. I love my niece dearly and the fact that I get to give her back to her parents and get a great night sleep makes our bond even stronger. Selfish, I know, but so true.
And finally, the pictures. I get to take great pictures like these …
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey's House
Friday’s Confession …
Apparently, I took this …
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey’s House
Friday’s Confession ...
When I first started Wifey’s House every Friday, for some strange reason, I felt compelled to tell on myself about something I probably shouldn’t have thought, said or done. Go figure. Well, here I go again.
Yesterday I was quizzing my son on his multiplication tables and caught him trying to sneak a peek at his notebook when he didn’t know an answer.
“We don’t cheat,” I told him sternly. “I’d rather have you get it wrong, than cheat.”
I stood on my soapbox for a few seconds longer.
“Did you hear me?” I asked my 6-year-old daughter.
“Yes, mommy.”
“OK, I just want to be clear. We don’t cheat – ever!”
And then I sat down, held my breath and waited for the lightening to strike. Coincidentally it was raining in Atlanta, but God must’ve had bigger fish to fry because I never saw the bolt.
I confess, I cheated on a math test in the 6th grade. Sorry Mrs. Kolinski. No, I wasn’t a serial cheater, but I did look to the left during that particular test and changed my answer to match the girl’s next to me. I was wrong, I felt bad and I quickly learned my lesson. The girl’s answer was incorrect and my original one was right.
*insert sigh here*
Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Now I feel better and can tell my children not to cheat with a guilty clear conscience. Did I share with them the blemish on my record? Um, no. Maybe one day I will, when they are old enough not to hold it against me.
Winks & Smiles,
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey's House
Friday’s confession…
When I first started Wifey’s House every Friday, for some strange reason, I felt compelled to tell on myself about something I probably shouldn’t have thought, said or done. Go figure. Well, here I go again.
As you may already know, I’m headed to one of my favorite places tomorrow to run in Disney’s Princess Half Marathon.
I’ve put in the sweat, blood and tears (ok, I’m feeling a little dramatic today – cue the Rocky music here), and I’m prepared to run the 13.1 miles.
I’ve shopped, ahem, and tore-up my closet to put together the perfect outfit to match my tiara. Every princess should run with one.
And, I’ve made arrangements to ensure that my children will have a fun-filled weekend while I’m off running through Walt Disney World. No guilt here, they just were there.
I’m on it, right? Right … except I’m leaving in less than 24 hours and I haven’t packed one thing. Yikes!
I confess, I’m a procrastinating, last-minute packer.
Some of it stems from my childhood. My mother was a flight attendant and we used to take spur of the moment trips all the time – "Lorraine, throw some things in your bag, we’re going skiing this weekend." It was later compounded by the years I spent as a publicist in the music industry – “um, Lorraine, we need you to fly with Usher in the morning to MTV’s Spring Break. Yes, I know its 11:45 p.m. and we want you to leave at 6 a.m. Have a good trip.”
I’m used to winging it – no pun intended – but I’m getting older and dare I say a little slower. And, it’s a little more challenging when you have four people to pack for instead of one. No, they’re not going with me, but they still have to wear clothes this weekend.
So, I’m off to do ... some more things before I pack. It’s still a tad bit too early for me. How about you? When do you start packing for a trip? Packing procrastinators want to know …
Winks & Smiles,
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey’s House
Friday’s Confession ...
Yesterday my 8-year-old son, Miles, and I were at home by ourselves when his beta fish, Ryan, decided he wanted to see what life was like OUTSIDE of his bowl. Right.
Truth be told, when I heard Miles’ panic-stricken scream, “Mama, Ryan jumped out his bowl!” my first thought was, Um, I don’t do fish.
Now don’t call PETA on me. I love animals. And, fish, too. I just don’t want to TOUCH them. But, when I saw the horror in Miles’ eyes, I instantly flipped into mommy mode.
“Pick him up and put him back in his bowl,” I yelled.
Logical, right?
Apparently, Miles doesn’t “do fish” either because he quickly told me no. “Ryan is a fighting fish! I can’t pick him up!”
Huh? I did my best to keep my composure and my laughter inside. Here’s a picture of Ryan.
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey’s House
Friday’s Confession
When I first started Wifey’s House every Friday for some strange reason I felt compelled to tell on myself about something I probably shouldn’t have thought, said or done. Go figure.
Back at it again, I feel the need to blurt it out – I’ve been a bad blogger. Gasp!
Yes, I know, it’s hard to believe, but I have. I haven’t visited my reader or anyone’s blog in a week. It’s driving me crazy because to me that’s one of the best parts of blogging – reading other blogs. What’s my excuse? I’ve been busy moving mountains. No really, see:
A Sneak Peek Inside Wifey’s House
Friday’s Confession
When I first started Wifey’s House every Friday for some strange reason I felt compelled to tell on myself about something I probably shouldn’t have thought, said or done. Go figure.
Well, here I go again. I just picked the kids up from school and saw that many of my daughter’s classmates had their cap and gown packages for Kindergarten graduation next week, but my child didn’t.
I’m sure you can guess who forgot to send in her check.
Right. My mother of the year award just got rescinded.
Not to worry, I called the cap and gown company and paid the extra $20 fee to have it overnighted in time for her ceremony next week.
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