CAUTION: If you are a boy, you may want to reconsider reading this post.

I wasn’t going to post this.

In fact, I’ve only told three people and swore them all to secrecy.

But if I’m keeping this life real, why not share, right? I mean it’s not national security. It’s me. And since it had been a while since I’ve done anything too terribly stupid, it was bound to happen.

And this week it did.

Earlier in the week, I had a little “event” I had to attend. There were probably about 30 other people there. Low key. I had on a button-up with a cami underneath, jeans and boots. I was feeling pretty cute. I did my thing, stayed for a couple of hours, then came home.

When I got here, I began taking off my jewelry and boots when suddenly I realized, something felt “funny.” It only took me a couple of seconds to realize.

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If you haven’t noticed, I like hats.

A lot.

If I could wear them every day, I would. They’re easy. They’re cute. They’re just me.

If you have ever seen me wearing a hat and thought, “Man. She wears hats a lot,” I feel I must warn you. It’s about to get much worse.

The reason…

I’m letting my hair grow out.

True story. I looked at a picture of myself from when Estella Dru was a baby. SAME HAIR CUT! She is SEVEN! And I am embarrassed.

I haven’t had long hair since before Matt and I were married. I think it’s time for me to give it another go.

But until it “grows,” it’s gonna get ugly, people. Super ugly.

The kind of ugly only a cute hat can hide.

So if you have a problem with hats, for the next several months, do NOT look in my general direction.

Keepin’ it real, borrowed from this week’s tweets.

1.  I‘ve trained them to follow me with massagers while I shop.  What? Is that wrong? (If you’re wondering, this picture was not staged. They probably followed me like this for a good five minutes. Matt finally made them stop.  Much to my dismay.)

2.)  Word to the wise.  Do NOT eat a powdered donut then go into public without first looking at a mirror. (No pictures available. But let me say, it was not pretty. I bet I talked to five people, none of which had the guts to say, “Ummm… you’ve got a little somethin’ goin’ on above your lip there.”)

3.)  I tweeted this one just seconds ago. Well… it’s pajama day at Kids’ Day Out. Is my kid in pajamas? Nope. Do I feel like a loser? Yep. (M0mmy Fail #545,989,090)

Today I thought I would keep it real… in a bulleted format.

• Belle’s teacher sent a note home last Friday that said something like, “Belle needs new crayons.”  I replied with a note of my own that said, “I’ll have her a new set by Monday.” It is Thursday. Have I sent her crayons yet? No. Have I one time remembered until today? No. Am I a Mommy Failure? Oh, yes. Yes, I am.

Ok, I might get some flack for this one.

But I’m just keepin’ it real.

Remember that movie that came out several years ago with Toby Keith? Broken Bridges.

I watch it every single time it comes on tv.

And it’s all for one reason.

To get to the last song.

It’s beautiful. And I mean.. BEAUTIFUL.

When I find myself in a desperate place, I sometimes go watch the video.

I watched it today.

The words absolutely sear into my heart.

Hitting walls and getting scars only makes you who you are, only makes you who you are.
No matter how much your heart is aching, there is beauty in the breaking.

Wow.

Yeah, I said a Toby Keith movie.

Shut up. And just watch the video.

I don’t have the new iPhone.

I want one. I shall have one. But I don’t have one yet.

Matt’s mom and Sarah do. (Thou shalt not covet. Thou shalt not covet. Thou shalt not covet.)

Last Thursday, all three of us were going to lunch. Sarah was driving. (First problem.) I was playing with Siri on her phone. (Second problem.) Sarah was trying to teach me how to use Siri WHILE driving. (Biggest problem.)

The conversation went something like this.

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Dumb things I’ve done this week:

1.)  Sent an ‘already opened’ juice box in my child’s lunch bag, effectively ruining her food and leaving her starving for a majority of the day.

2.)  Loaded the dishwasher like this.

3.)  Threatened my poor, sick child about ONLY going to the school nurse if it was ABSOLUTELY necessary!!!!! and received an email like this from said child’s sweet teacher, “E Dru said, ‘My mom told me not to go to the nurse.’  I told her I was giving her permission, and she said, ‘But I’ll be disobeying.’ So I told her I would tell you I gave her permission.”

By the time she got home, she could barely talk with a horrific sore throat.

Epic. Fail.

As a side note, Matt responded to the above email, and I quote, “What a mean mom.  Let me know if I need to come get her.”

Thanks, Matt.  Thanks.

I have a phobia of dentist offices.

It’s legit.

I avoid them at all costs.

In fact, it’s been almost 9 years since I’ve been.

But I have children. And those children need to go.

Yesterday, I took Jeb for his first cleaning, and he got through it like a champ. No tears. No cavities. All smiles and fun.

Which made me feel like an idiot.

Do you have an irrational phobia? One that might possibly make me feel better about mine?

Recently I have seen a number of blog posts written by mothers of young children, documenting their child’s birthday celebration. And after I finish, I am just over.whelmed.

From elaborate decorations to party favors that I would kill to have myself to cakes that look like they came straight from Carlo’s Bakery, over.whelmed.

(If you haven’t seen it, watch this story that aired on ABC.)

When I was little, my Grandma made my cake or commissioned it from the lady down the street. We maybe had ice cream, games in the yard, and who even heard of party favors back then?  Now there are pony rides and specified dress and better invitations and decor than I had for my wedding.

Oh please don’t misunderstand. If one has the means and will to go all out for their two year old, more power to ‘em. I think it’s great. High five. But if you are one of those mommies who lack one or both of the above, let me encourage you.

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I cried in my kitchen floor yesterday.

Are you ready to hear why…? Hold onto your hats.

I cried because I poured myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, Cocoa Puffs to be exact, only to remember that we had been out of milk for two days.

I know. CATASTROPHIC, right?!

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