On this episode of National Geographic: Planet Wiksten, the children learned some important life lessons about wildlife………sometimes, poor, defenseless ponies get attacked by wild Moose. It’s heartbreaking and devastating. But such is life. RIP Whitey. May you frolic peacefully amongst the beautiful meadows of Above.
This was not the only tragedy in the month of January. Let me introduce you to our casualties…….
First, was our poor, affordable, decade old, stained microfiber couch.
It didn’t have a chance.
Second, was my husband’s favorite Christmas gift from the JuJu (my mom). Warm, touch-screen abilities, water resistant, Cabela’s brand gloves. That actually fit his gorilla hands.
And if Mr. Moose wasn’t already slated for the Crate of Shame for eternity (aka dog kennel) for those travesties, his war on Bean’s beautiful My Little Pony, LIGHT-UP y’all, LIGHT!UP!, and winged tennis shoes sealed his fate. This was the 2nd pair of Bean’s tennis shoes that he’s eaten in 3 months. And I splurged on these and paid the full $32. THIRTY.TWO.DOLLARS. I don’t even pay full price for my own damn shoes. Let alone a whopping thirty-two dollars. Sigh.
Mr. Moose is on THE shit list people. Shit.List. Come to think of it, i’m not really sure he’s ever made it off the shit list. Nope, don’t think so.
In other news, my son continues to challenge the ‘normal’ child category.
Apparently wedging yourself in between the table and chair is fun. Until you get stuck. And mom has to get up to pull you out. THEN, you hate life and blame said mom. Complete with kicking, screaming, and hitting. There are no winners in this game called family. No winners at all.
I wanted to write something a little uplifting today, because most likely in the next few days i’m going to pour my heart out with a load. And it’s going to be quite the load. Not to tease you or anything.
Welp, I’m off to enjoy a peaceful 4 hours sans the hellions, courtesy of the best babysitter on the planet.
This is what keeps me real folks. Those three up there and my loving husband.
OK. Let’s get this party started.
Many moons ago I started a blog* to keep myself accountable for getting healthy. It was something I kept secret for a long time because i was so unsure of myself, and definitely not ready to put myself all up and out there to the interwebs. But over some time, more and more people commented on my posts, gave me encouragement, and lifted me up in ways I never expected. I made some of my best friends thru that blog. Best friends that I’ve never met in person, but are a HUGE part of my life still to this day! Anyways, so I made it public. (Shit gettin’ real folks.) It was so surreal to put myself out there and know that people were reading my words, my thoughts, my experience and my life……and liking all that…..well, at least i hope they did. Long story short, I had babies. And, well, babies sorta suck the life time right outta you.
But now that the baby making is done, and life is sorta not so time-sucking (totally lying here). Life is soooooo much more time-sucking than I ever knew possible.
Did you know it is totally possible to pee with a giant of a baby [seriously, he’s a giant] on your lap, a toddler standing next to you, plus a dog’s head touching your knee? All in a Barbie-sized bathroom? Oh it’s possible. I mean, who has time to pee by themselves? And shaving your legs from knee to hip is optional…..because….no time people. No time.) Anywho. What was I talking about…….oh ya, now that I have even less time than before kids, I decided to start writing again. Because, why not throw one more thing on my ever expanding to-do tally.
Lord I love me some Iron Man.
I also love Ryan Reynolds. That will be very apparent throughout my writing. Like, it’s a borderline obsession. Don’t worry, Ryan (my ‘real’ husband. The fact that I married a ‘Ryan’ may or may not be coincidence…….you be the judge) is completely aware of my delusional attraction to the future Mr. LauraBelle, aka Ryan Reynolds.
Time to cut to the chase.
Life has given me plenty of poop filled lemons. It’s been very difficult to make lemonade, or limonaide as my mom would write (spelling is not her forte, obviously, but that’s a story for another day). But for some reason, I managed. Life has continued to throw poopy lemons my way, even very recently, but by the Grace of God, I’m surviving. Actually, I’m not surviving, I’m THRIVING. Looking back, I have thrived through most obstacles. I never thought so at the time, but sure enough looking back I know I wouldn’t be the strong person I am today without those obstacles.
Writing is a stress release for me, always has been. I used to keep journals, you know, actually writing with pen and paper, because back in the day computers were the size of refrigerators and not exactly user friendly. I would also write my husband letters when we first got together. Then years went by and I jumped into the ‘new-age’ with blogging. I don’t even know if blogging is even ‘in’ anymore. Is it in? Or am I totally old here?
All I know is that it’s been a long time since I wrote, and for this entire ‘long time’, I’ve had a strong voice/urge inside saying that I need to get back to it. So i’m making time. Somehow. In my lovely time-sucking life.
My plan, which will most likely go to shit, is to write about life. Life as a mom. Life as a wife. Life as someone that suffers from depression, anxiety, and a slew of other crap. Life as I tryyyyyyy to love the dreaded conveyor belt of death (aka treadmill), life as a photographer. And last but not least, life with Mr. Moose. The mostly manic, extremely hyperactive, totally intolerable, not even one year old puppy that has his own personal mission to drive me straight to a padded cell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
Oh he looks cute here. But it’s all a charade. Lies people….all LIESSSSS!!!!
I love to make fun of myself and my crazetastic life. I also love Jesus, but cuss just a smidge. And I absolutely LOVE to make people laugh. Not always will my writing be a unicorn fart full of sparkles, but I so hope that most of the time you come away with something, especially a little giggle.