Eight

Eight.

Oh my.

I can barely get the words out of my mouth!

I gasp sometimes when I think about it.

Eight years ago today

You made me a Mama Bear.

You took someone who thought she knew everything

and turned her world upside down.

(I mean that in the best way possible!)

And now, as if I blinked

it's eight years later.

You're independent.

very independent.

Yet, you still give me sloppery kisses.

You are so inquisitive.

so very inquisitive.

Yet, you still think I know most things.

You are so brave.

so very brave.

Yet, you still need a reassuring huggle every once in a while.

Brother Bear,

your heart and passion sometimes exceed what your little body is capable of holding.

Yet, you never cease to amaze me.

I'm starry eyed in your presence.

My first born.

My boy.

Here's to Eight.

It's magic.

Love,

Mama Bear, Papa Bear & Sugar Bear

Committed

Are you committed? Today on Facebook, I'm talking about getting committed. Click here to read more (and maybe even get committed).

Remembering

September 20, 2010.

I remember.

I would carry the burden for you today (and tomorrow, and the next day...) dear friend if I could.

If only I could.

Today, I dedicate my post to you. You, who has the strength of twenty men. You, who crossed one of life's milestone too early. You, who walks through the path of sorrow with both Southern and Godly grace.

The closing hymn on Sunday made me think about the path we've shared together as friends. How blessed I have been to have you by my side in certain circumstances. How I hope you know I'm here. But more importantly, how you know that you are being carried through this by someone who's stronger and more powerful than either you or me.

Today I will sing the wondrous story. You don't have to sing along. I'll sing it for you.

"I was bruised but Jesus healed me;

Faint was I from many a fall;

Sight was gone and fears possessed me,

But he freed me from them all.

Days of darkness still come o'er me,

Sorrows paths I often tread,

But the Savior still is with me;

By his hand I'm safely led."

I remember.

Kryptonite

If I were a super hero bear (which, let's just get this out of the way right now, I AM NOT) do you want to know what would be my Kryptonite? Do you?

I'll tell you. No, I'll show you:

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AHHH! I can feel the superpowers being sucked from me as. I. type....

I'm going to be an honest Mama Bear right now and tell you a secret:

I HATE POTTY-TRAINING.

Hate it. HATE, HATE, HATE. Yes, the word I tell my cubs they cannot say. So there. Call CPS and tell them. Maybe they will come potty train my cubs for me. BECAUSE I AM A COMPLETE AND TOTAL POTTY TRAINING FAILURE. There are a MILLION other parenting type jobs that I would rather do than potty train a toddler cub. Seriously. A MILLION. I've reached the point where I understand how parent bears pay other people to train their cubs. Because, I'm pretty much there (Anyone up for a barter? I can make several delicious dinners to trade?!?!).

I've taken suggestions from friends, read the articles, tried to put the tips into use, bribed, cajoled, etc. TO NO AVAIL.

I'm powerless in the face of Potty Training, and I don't like it one bit.

Sigh.

I know she won't go to kindergarten wearing pull ups. I know it will happen. I know. But, I just needed to let y'all know how I'm feeling these days.

So, Cyber Bears if you were a Super Hero Parent Bear (which, I'm sure many of you ARE) what would YOUR Kryptonite be?

Tell me, please. Feel free to be anonymous in the comments section. I just need a little parental-bear commiseration here...

Faulty Plumbing

Need a tissue? Me too. Today I'm talking about crying. Click here to read more.

Send in the Clowns

Today on Facebook, I'm paying tribute to someone who was an influence on me during my formative, high school years. Click here to read more.

Complimentary

So, most of you Cyber Bears know (either because I've mentioned it here or because you see me sweating it out at the gym) I've been working out with a trainer for about...meh...let's call it 7 months now. It's an expense that, for a one income family on a budget, I know sounds extravagant. Don't think me extravagant. I got a "deal" and I pinch and scrimp other places.

Why?

Well, several reasons. One, I was noticing that just running wasn't cutting it for me anymore. I was running more miles and still not burning calories like I wanted. Two, I knew that in order to improve my running, I needed to put some effort in on strength training and, um, I didn't know a thing about strength training. And three, I needed a little spark put back in my workout romance...metaphorically speaking.

So, I got a trainer and couldn't move for literally 3 months. Apparently, my muscles had been in hibernation for about..oh...26 years. It was painful with a capital P. There were days that the first step out of the bed brought me to my knees. I was shocked that my legs could ever be sore considering all the marathons I run. Ha. What did I know. Apparently running marathons uses only about 10% of the eight billion muscles you have in your legs (oh, and derriere!).

And I am paying for this, Cyber Bears.

But I finally started feeling really good. Stronger. More confident. It's been perfect for me, the bear who has some serious body image issues. I L.O.V.E. working out with a trainer. I haven't lost any weight but the good news is, since I feel so good, I'm not as concerned about the scale.

But that totally isn't my story...That was back story. Sorry.

So, I work out together with a bear friend who is also a runner. Wait, no. SHE is a runner. I'm a recreational jogger. SHE has qualified for The Boston Marathon. I've qualified to watch it. SHE is a rock star. I'm a groupie. It's great working out with her because she pushes me to do my best while I make her look good (and laugh). Quid pro quo, baby.

Anyhoo.....the point of my story...

So today we are working out - doing a series that involved sit ups. (Which, by the way, I'm bad at. I've tried to explain to the trainer that I was born without abdominal muscles, but he doesn't seem to believe me.) Suddenly, this lady shows up at our feet and starts talking to us.

It goes something like this:

Lady: {Looking at both of us} Y'all look SO great!

Us: Why, thanks!

Lady: Seriously! I've been watching y'all since you started working out with this trainer. And y'all look great. {Looking at my training partner} Well, you already looked great. {Now looking DIRECTLY AT ME} but you, well, you really look so much better!

Y'all.

I tried to take it as a compliment. I really did. Which lasted a total of about 4.5 seconds. And then I took my sniffly, trying-not-to-cry, totally offended self to the bathroom tout de suite for a little "refreshing."

I'm over it now. But in the moment? Yeah. Not so much. I know she meant well. But, well, sometimes it's just better to think things versus actually saying them out loud.

Don't you think?

Topsy Turvy

Who knew that upending this:

Would upend me?

I'll be honest, Cyber Bears. This one caught me off guard. (And we all know how much I love being unprepared...)

Struggling today to get my arms around no longer having a cub in a crib:

Now, I'm sure that soon enough the first three-year-old-fit of the day will turn me right side up.

But, until then I might just be a little topsy turvy.

Sigh.

It's my (birthday) party...

And I'll (t)ry if I want to:

(t)ry if I want to:

You would (t)ry too if this happened to you...

Happy 3rd Birthday Sugar Bear!

Little did I know 3 years ago today, while I was enjoying a fabulous cup of coffee on a very quiet morning, that you would change my day forever. I remember it like it was yesterday!

You bring joy, vitality, and tons of spunk to our den. We love you dearly and are so grateful that God chose to bless us with you. We can already tell that three is going to be a year full of challenges and growth with you. You are likely to continue to surprise us often and charm us with your precious eyes and smile.

Looking forward to it all.

Love,

Mama Bear, Papa Bear & Brother Bear

Flying...

Today I sent Brother Bear off to 2nd grade. Seems like just yesterday I wrote this post and this one too...

Sigh.

Time sure does fly!

Want to know the difference between a Kindergarten Bear Cub and a Second Grade Bear Cub?

A kindergarten bear cub lets you join him on the walk into class and doesn't blink as you take one zillion and one pictures.

A second grade bear cub has this conversation as you drive up to the school:

Brother Bear: Mama Bear, why are you parking the car?

Mama Bear: Uh, because I'm going in with you?

Brother Bear: You're walking in with me???

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

I want my kindergarten bear cub back...

Transition

Today, I'm talking about transition and one of my favorite poems. You might like what you read (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed). Click here to read more.

Therapeutic

While the Swagger Wagon is in the repair shop, I have a pretty pimped out (albeit, temporary) ride:

Brother Bear thinks it's the ultimate in coolness. I, on the other hand, am too overwhelmed by the smell of men's cologne (that was apparently POURED in the back seat) to think whether I like my undercover cop car rental car. I'm pretty certain that Brother Bear is praying the Swagger Wagon isn't fixed by the first day of school so he can arrive in the carpool line in style.

Due overwhelming stress of my car being violated in such a horrific manner, I've been forced into intensive therapy. I'm currently attending sessions daily. It's a unique form of therapy created by a pioneer in the field, Betty Crocker.

It's working wonders, as you can see. This sessions was S'mores Brownies. It was life changing. I really think I broke through some tough barriers. Evidenced by my falling into a sugar coma serious nap after said session. (Note unique placement of S'more Brownie next to measuring scale. Rest assured, no brownies were weighed-in during this session)

On a completely unrelated note, I cannot fit into any of my clothing.

Ahem.

My therapy assistant:

I think I can overcome just about anything with that smile.

Theft Deterrent System

I'm trying out a new Theft Deterrent System in the Swagger Wagon.

Whadda ya think?

Lemonade Punch

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade" - Dale Carnegie

So the Swagger Wagon was broken into yesterday.

I know.

Before we go throwin' a lot of stones we must first, stop, turn around, and then HIT ME ON THE HEAD WITH THE STONES! Because I, now known as "THE MORON," left my purse in the car.

I know.

"But, officer bear, I was late for my training appointment and my 3 year old bear cub was throwing a gigantic fit...and I just...FORGOT!" Yes, those are the words I said. I then might possibly have said, "Please save the lecture. Because we all know my parent bears are going to give it to me as well."

I know.

But this post isn't about my busted window and jimmied lock, or my stolen purse, or wallet, or credit card, or debit card, or drivers license, or zoo membership card, or gift card to favorite restaurant, or - egads - my frequent eater card to favorite restaurant (sob). Because all those things are replaceable. My cubs? Not so much. And me and mine are safe tonight (a lil' sweaty from the open air ride, but SAFE).

I know.

No, this post is about lemonade. Or, making some. Or, something like that.

See, today, I learned that you can stew about something and get all grumpy and such, OR, you can just take it as one of life's lessons and move along your merry way. I'm opting for the latter.

I know.

So, please enjoy a few sips of lemonade with me.

As I was sitting in the gym lobby, totally flustered, trying to deal with gym personnel, Papa Bear on the phone, and Sugar Bear bouncing off the walls of the lobby, Sugar Bear asked for something to drink. I told her I couldn't buy her a drink because, well, I had nothing but my car keys and cell phone (took it with me to the gym!). Enter sweet lady that, while I was talking with Papa Bear, took Sugar Bear over to the vending machine, asked her what her favorite color was, and then bought her the corresponding color drink.

I know.

So, apparently, having a missing driver's side window in your car creates wonderful opportunities for stop light conversations as well. Who would have thunk? Not me, I've been living in my concealed car for too long, Cyber Bears! Lemonade! You see, if not for having my car broken into, I would have never had the following lovely conversation while stopped at red light this evening.

Mama Bear: {Sitting at light singing and rocking with Brother Bear}

Nice Female Passenger Bear in Car Next to Me: Hey! What you listenin' to?

Mama Bear: {Is she talking to me? Oh, yeah, I don't have a window anymore. She must be talking to me} Me? Oh, just a little Beyonce! "All the Single Ladies"!

Nice Female Passenger Bear in Car Next to Me: You like Beyonce?

Mama Bear: Why, yes! I do!

Nice Female Passenger Bear in Car Next to Me: I do too!

Mama Bear: {turns up louder, so neigh-bear can hear, leans out window conspiritor-ally} My 7 year old cub likes it too!

Nice Female Passenger Bear in Car Next to Me: So, how long you been married?

Mama Bear: {Hmm..that's an odd question!} Fourteen years!

Nice Female Passenger Bear in Car Next to Me: {as light starts to turn green} Well, you tell your wife hello from me!

Mama Bear: {Sitting at light with mouth agape} Oof!

I know.

Now, granted, I was unshowered, still in my workout clothes (I had, at least, changed out of my seriously sweaty shirt) and hat, and no makeup (it was a CRAZY day, what can I say?), and the short hair gives me a serious disadvantage. But, I was wearing "hip" only-for-females-sunglasses! Couldn't she see? Seriously. Of all the days to be mistaken for a male bear? Sigh.

Cyber Bears, does this look like a male bear to you?

Looks more like someone who needs a stiff drink. Preferably lemonade flavored.

I know.