A Letter to My Girl

Dear Ally Grace,

Well, technically I wanted to write this when you turned 4.  Which was about 3 months ago.  Unfortunately, your mommy is a procrastinator, but hey….at least it's happening, right?  I just know that I can't allow myself to forget this age, because it has been SO FULL.

(Full of what, you ask? Well, mostly joy, although there has definitely been a good mixture of sass, eye-rolling, and "where did that come from?" mixed in.)

See the sass?  It's right there, front and center.

People say that with all kids, you either get the terrible twos, or the terrible threes.  And I made the rookie mistake of congratulating myself as your 4th birthday approached, as we hadn't run into either one of the "terribles."

As in, "wow, Sherri, look how EASY Ally Grace has been.  It must have a lot to do with your AMAZING PARENTING SKILLS."

Um, NO.  What's that they say about pride coming before a fall?  A-hem.

Because all the crazy came for us when you turned 4.  All of it.  And I say this in love, as one day you will understand how it's possible to insanely love your child, even while they are literally acting insane.

Pure, adorable insanity, I tell ya.

Like the time when you screamed at me that you would NEVER AGAIN LET YOUR POO POO COME OUT OF YOUR BOTTOM.  NEVER!  IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE!!

(You may have even slammed the door in my face, but I'm not sure, as I have actively tried to block that horrendous experience from my memory.)

Or any one of the times when I watched you physically morph from a sweet and obedient little girl, into a wild Tasmanian devil, complete with a language of gibberish, unintelligible to the adult ear.

Or the time that you yelled at the top of your lungs that "Daddy tooted and it smelled like chicken nuggets!"  In public.

(EW.  And I may never eat another chicken nugget again, thankyouverymuch.)

But I would never do that.  Don't you see the sweet, innocent face I'm working, here?

BUT. Then, THEN, there were the times when you grabbed my face and said "I love you mommy.  You're my favorite girl."

Or the times I watched you do "Jackson chases" with daddy, all around the house.  (Even if I did need a sedative after all the excitement.)

A superhero.  With a pink headband. This says so much about you, actually.

Or all the nights that you begged me to make up a "mean old witch story" for you.  (And then proceeded to tell me exactly what I should say.)

At least I know that I've influenced your fabulous taste in cowboy boots.

And the time that I literally cried all the way home from your school, as you sweetly sang "Whom Shall I Fear," in the backseat.

It's been so amazing to see your personality develop this year, Ally Grace.  Most people say that you look like a little "mini-me."  But I have to tell you, from a personality standpoint, you are eerily similar to your daddy, in all the best ways:  You LOVE people, and will talk to ANYONE.  You curiosity is off the charts, and you've already stumped me so many times with your questions (which is both awesome, and slightly humiliating).  According to your teachers, you love doing anything that requires "movement" and you learn best when you can use your hands.  You adore animals and anything "science-related." You are FEARLESS, and it makes my heart so happy that you are confident enough to "leap without looking."  You challenge me every day to do the same.

You already love Jesus, and tell us all the time that he is your friend. That you are "excited" about Him.  NOTHING makes us prouder than hearing that.  He is going to do great things with your  life, and I cannot WAIT to see how He uses that big personality of yours, girlfriend.

I have adored my moments with you this year, in every way possible.  Even when I was nauseous and exhausted from being pregnant, and even when I felt totally overwhelmed.  Even when I may or may not have allowed a little extra TV time, just so I could snuggle with you on the couch.  You are my little Ally Bear, my girl, my little presh.  And I know I say this to you all the time, but I think it bears repeating: I will always love you, NO MATTER WHAT.

Even when one or both of us is acting insane.

Pregnancy Journal…The End Is Near.

Wow, that sounded rash and dramatic, and totally unlike me, didn't it?

(Stop laughing.  Rude.)

I've officially made it into my 39th week, and since I can't be trusted to keep weekly pregnancy journals, let's do another little wrap up so I can accurately remember this hell and never do it again record all the joys of the dreaded third trimester.

The Third Trimester.  (a.k.a. When the *** hits the fan).

Holy Belly, Batman.
Okay, that was weird and I'm sorry.

Weight Gained:

Bahahahaha, like I'm gonna put that out on the INTERNET.  Be for real.  No. Let's all pretend it's a modest 15-20lb weight gain that will have me back in my pre pregnancy jeans in 2 weeks.


Cravings:

Anything chocolate, anything carb-ish, anything remotely bad for you.  My non-cravings on the other hand are lean proteins and veggies.

Symptoms:

Mostly the kind that would fall under the category of "oversharing."  Additionally, my heartburn has kicked itself up a notch, and it feels like there is an evil rubber band made out of hot lava constantly constricting my ribs.

Or something like that.

Fave Pregnancy Moments:

Let's see……how about the one where I started sobbing at the end of the last Twilight movie? But you know, the quiet kind of sobbing where you're hiding your face so your husband doesn't laugh at you or rudely call you out.  Except that he knows you so well, that he immediately knows you're crying and then rudely calls you out.

No?

Or maybe it was the one where I was forced to choose between tying my shoes and crushing my baby in utero.

Not that one, either?

Hmmmmm……wait, it was definitely this moment:

That actually WAS pretty fun, now that I think about it.  

How I've Been Spending My Time Lately: 

In no particular order:

Eating.  Chewing Tums.  Complaining. (That was John. Punk.)  Trying to jump, skip, or squat the baby out of me in any of my favorite places…i.e. Anthropologie, Starbucks, or Nordstrom.  Clearly, they would offer me a lifetime supply of clothes/coffee/general awesomeness for that. 

Clearly.  

Finding out that I'm actually having a baby with Vanilla Ice.

I literally can't. even.

Spending as much time with this girl as possible:

I adore her in the biggest way.

I think that pretty much sums up the third trimester in it's entirety.  I've got my hospital bag packed and ready to go, like a good little pregnant mama, so we'll see when this kid decides to make his debut.

(Which if I can make a request will be before my due date, but after I get my highlights on Thursday.  Just keeping it real.)

Until then, I'll just be skipping some laps around Starbucks.

Letter to Baby D...No. 2

Disclaimer:  I wrote this post back during the summer, and never posted it.  Apparently, I was either too tired, too nauseous, or too caught up in whether Joey would choose Dawson or Pacey.  But, in the interest of not letting the two weeks it took me to write this go to waste, I'm gonna post it now.

I mean, why not, right?

Somewhere in the neighborhood of June-ish 2013

If you follow me on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, then you already know that the reason for my rather extended absence from the blog:

I'm pregnant.

And I'd really love to tell you that I've been too busy to write because my life has been all pregnancy sunshine and roses.  But, NO.  It's been more like pregnancy "laying on the couch and bitterly envying all of your beach photos on Facebook, while I try desperately not to throw up."

So, yeah.

Even so, we are super excited to meet our second-born.  And I thought now might be a good time to write him or her a little letter.

Dear Baby D #2,

Well.  It's been interesting thus far, hasn't it?  Hopefully at least one of us is enjoying this pregnancy with comfort and ease.  And if it can't be me, then I'm glad it's you.

Can I tell you something?  I secretly think you're a girl.  (Which I realize probably means you're a boy.)  But, the day I found out I was pregnant, I got my first manicure that didn't consist of me hacking my fingernails off with John's toenail clippers.  And the color I just so happened to pick from the most enormous wall of nail polishes known to man was, (are you ready for this?),"It's a Girl."

And I was all, "God, was that you? Here in the nail salon?"

Seriously though, I keep having dreams that you're a girl.  And no one can even suggest that you might be a boy to Ally Grace.  She's convinced she's got a baby sister coming.

(She wants to name you "Lucifer" by the way.  Whether or not I let her depends on how nice you are to me during the rest of this pregnancy.)

Boy or girl, I can already tell that you're a feisty little thing.  Either that, or you're trying to kill me.  In fact, I actually have a few questions for you.

1.  Why are you so attached to Toaster Strudels?  I mean, they taste awesome when you're 12, but now? Not so much.  I'd really like to quit eating them all the time, please.

My thighs would like that as well.

2.  Speaking of my thighs.....You are in my uterus.  Which I am pretty sure is NOT IN MY THIGHS.  Why must I look as if I am pregnant in my thighs?  This is Not. Okay.

3.  What is up with the nausea?  I know you're in there.  I do not need a constant reminder, I promise.

4.  Also, why did I look pregnant the moment you were conceived?  Is that really necessary?

5.  Are you okay with the name "Legit?" That's AG's second choice, and I think it sounds pretty rockstar-ish.  No?  Maybe as a middle name?

In closing, if you could please make the middle part of my pregnancy at least moderately tolerable, I will agree to give you whatever you want.  Literally, whatever you want.  A pony?  Sure.  A private jet? I'll work on it. Just let mama eat again, and you can have all the Toaster Strudel smoothies you can drink.

And just so you know,  I plan to blame everything on you for at least the next year.

As in, Sherri, why are you being so grouchy?  Sorry, the baby's feeling cranky.

Or, Sherri, why haven't you done laundry in six months? The baby is much too tired.

Or how about, Sherri, why did you need those Frye boots?  Well, the baby liked them, so.....

No?

At any rate, I am super excited to meet you, little one.  Your big sister is awesome. And your daddy is pretty unbelievable too.


Love,

Your slightly crazy mother, who promises to do her best, even when all she wants to do is flop down on the couch with some chocolate and the Real Housewives.

You won't tell, right?

Holiday Maternity Style

Hey guys!  If you're pregnant right now or know anyone who is, head over to the Edit blog for a post I wrote on holiday maternity style.

And as you do, try not to die of shock that I just posted again without another 5 month hiatus.

I know.

By the way, a huge thank you to Bekah, for completely making my day and featuring my pregnancy journal post on her blog!  I can't even tell you how excited that made me (and if I did tell you, it would probably be embarrassing). Now, y'all go check out Bekah's blog, especially the love story section about how she met and married her cute husband.

Happy Monday, everyone!

My Pregnancy Journal...Here We Go Again.

I don't really know where to start except to say, "Hi, I'm Sherri, and I used to blog about my life. But then things like trying to discipline a very sassy 4 year old, and oh yeah, GETTING PREGNANT, took over my life."

Well.  Let's be honest.  It wasn't really the "getting pregnant" part that took over my life.  It's been the "being pregnant" part that has taken over my life.  And when I say took over my life, what I mean is that it forced me to lie on the couch and watch Dawson's Creek on Netflix for 4 months, while I tried hard not to vomit.

For real.  This is what I did for 4 solid months.  It was shameful AND awesome, all at the same time.
Well, awesome except for the nausea.  That part was NOT awesome.

I started this blog during my last pregnancy to document "the crazy" that was about to go down.  And then it turned into a documentation of all the actual crazy that is already in my life.  But never has my life been more crazy than during the last year.  And since AG got her turn, I've decided that our SON (aw, yeah!) needs his turn now.

Have y'all seen those journal style posts that cute pregnant bloggers write about their monthly/weekly pregnancy updates? They sweetly discuss topics like "weight gained," "cravings," "fave pregnancy moments," etc.  Since I'm already in my 3rd trimester, I'm going to post an abbreviated version of My Pregnancy Journal.  It's definitely not going to be super adorable and precious, but it's going to serve to remind me about what pregnancy is really like.  You know, so I don't get brainwashed into thinking I want to do it again.

First Trimester:

Weight Gain: Felt like 5 million pounds.  Mostly in my chest.  Was too afraid to actually find out.

Cravings:  Everything carbtastic, fried, or otherwise obtainable at a drive-thru window.

Well, hello there, little gummy bear.  You're the one causing all the chaos.
I should've known you were a boy.

Symptoms:  What kind of lying jerk decided to name it "morning sickness" anyway?  Since it started  basically the very moment I found out I was pregnant, I became convinced that I was having twins.  Evil ones, that were trying to kill me.

Fave Moments:  Telling John I was pregnant. I hid my positive test under the covers of the bed, and screamed that there was a HUGE SPIDER in there that he needed to kill.  And before you're all, "EW, Sherri you peed on a stick and then put it in your bed?!?!," don't worry.  I sanitized it first.  I'm smart like that.

See?  All wiped clean with extra antibacterial wipes.
Also, did I mention that John REALLY doesn't like spiders?  It was SO FUN to freak him out.
I'm sweet like that.

Our first picture of our new family of "four."
A.K.A. Back When I Was Still Thin

Second Trimester:

Weight Gain:  Finally got up the nerve to pay attention , and surprisingly, it was only 2 lbs.  Despite Mr. Zaxby's best efforts.

Cravings:  Orange Fanta and Candy Corn.  I mean, what? I literally can't even.

Symptoms:  It might be easier to talk about what I wasn't experiencing....because I pretty much had them all at this point.  Sore boobs, severe heartburn, and oh hi, nausea!  You're still here.  I think it was somewhere around 20 weeks or so when I finally was able to stop eating crackers in the middle of the night like a ravenous little chipmunk.  You know, to avoid barfing when I got up to pee.

Fave Moments:  Finding out we were having a BOY!  Y'all.  I am awful at the whole "mother's instinct" thing.  I was absolutely convinced that I was having another girl.  So, unfortunately, was AG.  When we went to the ultrasound appointment, we took her with us, and after the ultrasound tech said "it's definitely a boy!" AG was all, "um, no it's NOT. It's a baby sister."  Then, when the ultrasound switched to the 3D view, she started crying and saying "I don't want my baby brother to be orange!!"

You and me both, girlfriend.

Aw. Isn't it cute how I thought my belly had "popped" back then.
Um, NO. 

My other favorite moment during this trimester was when one of AG's teachers at school asked her what she wanted to name her baby brother.  Her response?

Lucifer.

After I stopped dying, I reassured the teacher that we had just read Cinderella, in which the cat is named Lucifer.  I mean, clearly she doesn't think her baby brother is the devil.

Yet.

And there we go: genuine pop-age has now occurred.  

Third Trimester:

Weight Gain: With the way I've been eating, it's probably somewhere around a gazillionty pounds by now.

Cravings:  Sweet tea and Halloween candy.  The other night, John and I were at the grocery store, and I informed him that it was time to stock up on Halloween candy.  You know, for the children.  He picks up this weenie bag with only 85 pieces, and was all, this should do it.

Hahahahaha, he's so adorable.

(We may or may not have had to purchase more candy last night.  I can't remember.)

Symptoms:  My heartburn is still super bad, so Tums should probably have been listed on my cravings list.  Because I eat more of those than anything else.  Also, why hasn't someone come up with a Twix-flavored Tum? I'm just sayin.

Another symptom I've been dealing with is The TIREDNESS.  I keep waiting for the same crazy burst of OCD/nesting energy that I got with AG, and I just haven't gotten there yet.

(Oh wait.  John just reassured me that I have, in fact, gone all "OCD crazy" again.  This time, instead of a "freakishly unhealthy obsession with stainless steel wipes," it's manifesting itself via "insane to-do lists" that I keep giving him.)

(Again, isn't he adorable?)


Currently, I'm (almost) 29 weeks, re-reading Babywise like a BOSS, and trying to cram in as many trashy tv shows as possible between now and January 25th. Because, well, priorities.

I'm also trying diligently to Instagram outfits that still make me look like a wardrobe stylist and not like a pregnant bag lady.

Which is about as easy as trying to discipline this sassy 4 year old.

She is NUTS, y'all.  In the best way possible.  

Mother's Day Gift Guide

John knows that for every gifting occasion, he will almost certainly receive an extremely, ahem, helpful list of gift ideas from a certain someone.  It's not that I don't trust him to pick out something himself, it's just that I like to be a control freak help him efficiently organize his search.

I'm sure he finds this both darling and adorable.

(Or at the very least, predictable.)

Also?  #firstworldproblems

I know.

Today, I'm posting a list of my top Mother's Day Gift Ideas, over on the Edit blog.

Husbands, you're welcome.

The Fashion Wars

The other day, I asked Ally Grace if she knows what I do for work.

(And NO, she did NOT say, "watch Downton Abbey and eat mint M&M's like it's your job.")

(Although I'm pretty sure I'd kill at that.)

To answer my question, she very sweetly and adorably says, "Mommy, you help people figure out what to wear with their shirts." And I was all, well, actually....yes. You're right. And then, in a clever attempt at early brainwashing, I said, "see, mommy knows what she's talking about.....I will always dress you cute, so you will NEVER want to argue with me about your outfits."  Right? RIGHT?!?!

Wrong.

Cut to the other morning, when I am trying to shove her leg into a (fantastic) pair of cherry red skinny jeans. Paired with a gray, yellow, and red floral top, this outfit is so cute, that I may or may not have tried to shove my own leg into those jeans first.  Just in case.

(Which, um, NO.)

This moment kicked off Fashion War #1:

Me:  AG, let's put on your jeans (while grabbing jeans and a shirt out of her closet at the speed of light, because, did I mention that we're very late for school?).

AG:  EWWWWWWWWWWW!  Mommy, NOOOOOOOOO!  There's YELLOW on that shirt!!!!!!
(Spoken as if "yellow" is synonymous for "poo poo.")

Me:  But the yellow is so pretty!  Look, my shirt is yellow!  Don't you like my shirt?!

AG:  NO.

Me:  (Thinking fast) Um......but I hear Jackson downstairs, and he's saying "Ally Grace, I love your shirt!  Wear it down here so I can see it!"

Because dogs definitely always talk when their owners are having power struggles with their 3 year old. Clearly.

AG: (With a look of disbelief, accompanied by what may or may not have been an eye roll)  Jackson!  MY shirt is ugly, Jackson!  I HATE THIS OUTFIT, JACKSON!!!

Me:  Mama might need a drink now, Jackson.

Fashion War #2:
Recently, John got to "take clients" to the Masters "for work."  Also, yes.  I totally used air quotes every time he referred to this as "work." I'm sure he found it adorable.

Anyway, he brought home a little pink polo with the Masters logo on it for AG.  And it was as if he had given her an lifetime supply of fruit snacks, popsicles, and flashlights, all rolled up into a polo shirt.  Saying she's kind of obsessed, is like saying that the Real Housewives kind of disagree sometimes.

She wants to wear it EVERYWHERE.  And she has, um, some interesting ideas about what to wear with it.

Paired with a leopard print belt, purple sneakers, and the toddler mullet?
Bold choice, AG. Bold choice.

Fashion War #3:

All I can say about this one, is this: there was a winner.  And there was a loser.  I'll let you guess which title I claimed.

We managed to incorporate PJ's, high-waters, AND purple sneaks for a daytime playdate.   

In other words, a perfect trifecta of fashion "don'ts."

So, mothers of daughters, is this what I have to look forward to?  Years of arguing about clothes?

Excuse me, Jackson?.  I'm gonna need that drink now.

My Very First Guest Post

About 2 months ago, I got asked to write a guest post for the blog, Simple Marriage.  This blog has amazingly written articles about all things marriage and family-related.....and I immediately felt super intimidated.  

Because, well, it's ME.  I am not what you would call an expert on marriage.  Or motherhood.  Or on anything, really.  

I mean, do the readers of Simple Marriage want to hear about my endeavors to trick John into watching the Bachelor with me?  

Babe, look!  Sean clearly loves Jesus.  Let us support our brother in Christ.  

(He did not feel so inclined.)

Or would Simple Marriage readers want to re-live the time when AG decided that poop makes a fantastic art medium?

No one wants to re-live that, let's be honest.

I was stuck.  But, then, I realized that maybe I could mash-up motherhood and fashion, Glee-style.  (Well, except minus the awesome vocals and amazing dance moves).  And so, "5 Ways to Update Your Mom-iform" came to life.  

Y'all.  I love writing.  I really do.  But here's the thing:  it is VERY tough to put something out there, and be afraid that no one will like it.  SO, since this is my very first guest post, and since I'm hugely afraid that only 2 people will read it, would y'all go check it out?  And maybe even comment?  Like, tell me about YOUR mom-iform.  Or fill me in on simple ways you've updated your own look.

Or maybe, just possibly, even tweet or share my post on Facebook.  I mean, I'm not saying that I'd love you more if you did.  

But I'm not saying I wouldn't.  

  

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

Tomorrow I'll be answering fashion questions over on the Edit blog, and I would love to answer any of yours! No question is too silly or embarrassing, I promise.

For example, you may have wondered why people think it's okay to bring overalls back?

(It's not.  Unless you're a farmer. Or a 5-year old.)

Or, you might be all like, why CAN'T I wear leggings with a cropped top, Sherri?

(No.  Just NO.)

Or maybe you heard that on Wednesdays we wear pink. 

(Um, how did you get in here, Regina George?)

Whatever your questions may be, I would LOVE to hear them!  Post a comment, Facebook or tweet me, and then be sure to check out the Edit blog tomorrow!

Lately

I have a great idea.  Let's just pretend that it hasn't been 2 months since I posted here, and pick up where we left off?  They say with good friends that you can do that, and since we're all friends here (yep.  I just made you all my friends, and you're just going to have to like it.), let's just act like it's still December.

Or not.  Because that was a long time and a LOT of pecan pie ago, and I'd rather just move on into February, if it's alright with you.

As I type this, I'm in Jackson Hole, looking out at some of the most beautiful scenery God created.  I've just survived a day of skiing, which probably deserves it's own post, since the last time I skied was 1992.  In Georgia.  While wearing jeans.

All I can say, is that I can now confidently maneuver a chair lift.  And I kick butt at picking myself up  from a fall without assistance.  You can attribute that skill to quite a bit of practice.

Anyway, the last couple of months have been crazy busy.  I've been doing lots of editing, styling, and personal shopping.  And can I just say, that I LOVE this job?  Not to mention, I now have an excuse for all of my time spent shopping.

It's research.

Obviously.


I've also been having entertaining conversations with people in my life.  For example:

John:  Hey babe, what are you doing?

Me:  Oh, just watching The Real Housewives.

John:  Are you learning about booty again?

Me:  No, that's Atlanta, babe.  I'm watching Beverly Hills, so I'm actually learning about Botox.

See?  Booty and Botox.  #thethingsyoucanlearnfromrealhousewives


Or how about this conversation with our UPS guy?

Me:  Hey, thank you so much!

UPS Guy:  Where do you put it all, lady?

Me:  (nervously laughing and hoping John didn't hear that), Oh that's hilarious, and by the way, stop looking at me like I'm a hoarder.  

John:  (coming up behind me because he DID hear it) Man, you're at our house every day. (while giving me the evil eye, and a mental "I told you we get a package a day.")


And then there's this adorable convo with my little presh:

Ally Grace:  Hey mommy,  you know what?

Me:  What is it, sweet pea?

Ally  Grace: I can't wait until I grow up and become a grown-up, so that I can drink coffee.  

I know.  Good moms say, NO honey, coffee is bad for you.  Honest moms, on the other hand, say that coffee is a gift straight from the Lord, and hey, is it too soon to take you on an outing to Starbucks?

Guess which kind of mom I am?

(Because we're friends, you should know the answer to that.)

Disclaimer:: As mentioned above, I typed this in Jackson Hole.  I'm posting this two weeks later.  I realize that I'm a slacker, but life has been kind of hard lately.  Busy, full, and just plain hard in a lot of ways. I so appreciate that hopefully at least a few of you are still around to read my silly stories.  I don't know about you, but I need some silly in my life right about now.

Thanks, friends.

Thanksgiving and Car Shopping

Hi blog friends!  Sorry I've been neglecting the blog lately....I really do have so many stories to tell.

(Uh-oh.)

I feel like I always say that "such and such month is killing me."  And December has turned out to be the worst of all.

(It has also turned out that I'm not very good at time management.)

Not only have we had something every night, I'm kind of concerned that AG may start calling her babysitter "mommy."  It's been THAT bad.  Add a new job, Christmas shopping, and getting sick in the middle of it all, and it's a wonder I've been able to keep up at all.

Okay, actually I haven't kept up. AT ALL.  I'm literally sitting here SURROUNDED by clean (yet unfolded) laundry, wads of used up tissue, and piles of unwrapped Christmas presents.

But at least it's not dirty laundry, am I right?  I can give myself props for doing the bare minimum of moving clothes from the washer to the dryer.

I'll take it.

But, Thanksgiving.  I was going to tell you about Thanksgiving.  It was awesome y'all.  We went to Nashville to see my in-laws, ran our traditional 5 mile race on Thanksgiving morning (very helpful for consumption of large amounts of pecan pie later in the day), and we even got the boys into aprons.  A good time had by all.

Oh yeah. This happened.

On Black Friday, I tried to bribe different family members into going to the mall with me.  They were all too smart too tired for that, so instead, John, his dad, and I went to test drive some cars.

(Why purchase a shirt at the mall, when you can purchase a car at the dealership?  Isn't that what Thanksgiving is all about?)

(NO.)

Really, we had already planned on looking at cars, since my precious Big Red just turned TEN YEARS OLD. My amazing parents gave her to me for graduation from college, and she has been everything a girl could want.

Until that girl added a baby and a RATHER LARGE dog to her family, and now when we go anywhere, Jackson has to ride on top of a suitcase.  And if we were to add another carseat at some point, Jackson is in danger of having to ride on the roof.   I feel not one iota of guilt, though, after having driven my car for 10 years, including many trips to the shop, breakdowns at the pediatrician's office (with a crying baby in tow), and calls to AAA.

It's time.

We arrive at the car dealership, and John kindly issues his standard reminder about NOT ruining anything by talking.  Because I may or may not be prone to statements like "oh, what's that price on the window?  Well, that seems fair to me!  We'll take it!"

Ahem.

I learned a few things that day, though.  For instance, when you've driven a car for 10 years, you may be surprised to learn that cars no longer come with tape decks.

Also, when searching for where to plug in the headphones your child will use to watch movies (yep.  Movies.  Plural.  On long trips, all tv rules go straight out the window, people.), it may surprise you to learn that "oh, those headphones are wireless, ma'am."

(And who are you calling, Ma'am, guy helping us, who cannot possibly be more than 2 years younger than me?)

(Let's stop that now, m-kay?)

You also may find yourself calling all the cars "space cars" while your husband silently laughs at you.  Which now that I think about it, probably doesn't help with the whole "ma'am" thing. 

John's favorite car of the day was the freaking huge very manly Toyota Sequoia.  I may or may not have caused all of the sales guys to go into fits of laughter as I tried to park it.  Several times.

AND NEVER SUCCEEDED.

And eventually had to let our ma'am-calling sales guy do it.

Needless to say, it's probably not making my short list.

Then we moved on to my favorite car of the day, the Buick Enclave.  Which is when this conversation happened:

John:  Babe.  A BUICK?  Did you suddenly turn 85, and I didn't notice?  You're freaking out about this guy calling you ma'am, and now you want to drive a BUICK?  Come on, now.

Me:  What?!  Maybe I can help Buick re-brand themselves to the young (ish) mom scene.  And would you please stop laughing and calling me Gladys???? Besides, it's like I'm driving on AIR.

One might even call it a space car.  

The Closet Project-Week 3

Hey guys!  I'm blogging over on the Edit blog today; Week 3 of the Closet Project is up!

(Also known as Week 3 of "Why Did I Not Think About How Painful it Would Be to NOT Shop During Black Friday/Cyber Monday Sales?")

Or possibly called, Week 3 of "Embarrass Myself Publicly on The Internet."

You're right.  We all know it's been a few years of THAT.

Go check it out!

Dry Shampoo and a Panic Attack

A few weeks ago, AG had her very first dentist appointment.  And, as one of my Facebook friends so appropriately inquired, "did she like the dentist better than you do?"

Well, it really wouldn't take much.

Y'all.  I totally had a clever strategy. I basically spent the 2 weeks prior to her appointment talking up the dentist, until AG believed him to be something of a cross between Woody from Toy Story, and her favorite Backyardigan.

(Because that wouldn't be super creepy.)

(Also, you may have noticed that I ascribe to the "fake it til you make it" parenting philosophy.  A.k.a. the "blatantly lie to your child so she never develops your extreme phobia of flossing" philosophy. If you want to read more about that little nugget of child-rearing wisdom, I'm sure you can find it in all of the good parenting books.)

Since we were in a little bit of a rush, I decided to throw some dry shampoo into my slightly sort of, okay fine, heinously dirty hair.  I figured it didn't much matter what I looked like, since my main objective was to prevent a toddler panic attack.

Or a mommy panic attack.

(Which may have been more likely.)

We get there, and AG is SUPER excited.  And she did great, y'all.  I could see that she was a tiny bit uncomfortable with the suction-y thingy, but can you really blame her? It could definitely double as a torture device.

Check it out: She is the picture of confidence.
Maybe she can start attending my dental exams for me.

At any rate, she has her cleaning, picks a treasure from the treasure chest, and we head out. (Side note: Adult dentists should totally have a treasure chest.  Filled with Amex gift cards, and spa treatments as the prizes. Who's with me?)

On the way to the lobby, I decide to make a pit stop at the restroom.  Because my bladder clearly isn't up to the 5 minute drive back home.  As I'm washing my hands, I glance into the mirror and see that my hair is completely white at my hairline.

I am not going to lie, y'all.  I freaked the heck out.  I was all, when did my hair turn white?  And more importantly, why has no one told me??? 

(I mean, I totally plan to rock some white hair one day, when I'm significantly older.  I also plan to rock some sassy cowboy boots and a cute maxi skirt with my white hair, but that's another story entirely.)

After some deep breathing and a speed dial to my hair colorist, my logical side kicks in and whispers, Hey, wait a minute, Rash Sherri.  Your hair is white EXACTLY where you applied the dry shampoo.

Why, yes.  Yes, it is, Logical Sherri.  I can now discontinue my panic attack at the pediatric dentist's office.

Which is not only embarrassing, it is a whole new level of sad.

Later, a friend of mine who's done some acting hears my story, and is all, oh yeah!  We always use dry shampoo to "gray people out."

And that is the story of how my dry shampoo went to live in the trashcan.

You're welcome.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I know in the past, I've done long, mushy drawn-out posts about all the things for which I am thankful. And all of those still stand.  But today, I'm just going to sum it up with one word:

Jesus.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

P.S.  I know you're surprised by my lack of wordiness over here today.

Rude.

And the Winner Is....

It's winner time!  Seriously, if I could give each one of you a free wardrobe edit, I totally would, because I LOVED ALL YOUR COMMENTS!  Wow.  It's so easy to think that no one ever reads my random postings, so it was super exciting for me to get each of your comments.  

(Like, so exciting that I would have literally been embarrassed for anyone to see me reading them.)

Since I'm not super fancy or technologically advanced, I used the good 'ol "draw a piece of paper from a bowl on my kitchen table" method. And for those of you who wrote blog posts, or liked my post on Facebook, you got your extra entries. Promise. 

So now.....drumroll please.......and the winner is..........

Keri Ninness!  Woo hoo!  Congratulations, Keri! Side note: her comment was awesome, and made me laugh out loud: 

"coveredinbabyspitup." That or "easytopopoutaboob." Everything fits into that category. Sigh. Congrats to you! Confession time: I love your clothes but I love love your hair :) I have forever had Sherri hair envy. Can you include hair "how-to" in a wardrobe consult.

: )

Ha!  Love it.  And, can't WAIT to come "edit" your closet, girl! 

(Also, go read her blog. One of my faves!) 

I also want to give a shout-out to someone who left probably the best comment of the day:

Van Baird said...

I'm a newlywed...of over 19 years. My Bride would love (and would tell you she NEEDS) a wardrobe consultation. Her 17 & 13 year old daughters would BEG for her to let you go on a shopping spree with her. I would tell you that I think she's smokin' hot no matter what she wears.

Great site. Great concept. My great wife would be a perfect fit. I'd Facebook this and tweet it out, but I would love to surprise her with this instead. Hopefully that's worth a few extra additional entries.

Y'all.  This is so precious.  If I had decided a winner based on my favorite comment, Van, you would've won HANDS DOWN.  And I actually did give you two extra entries.  Calling your wife "smokin' hot no matter what?" You definitely earned them. 

(Now bring her by, and show her your awesome comment.  And then email me to book an appointment for her anyway!  I would love to work with you guys.)

I seriously can't thank all of you enough for your support, for blowing up FB and Twitter on my behalf, and for just making me laugh with your hilarious comments!  

Happy Friday!

Thank you!

Hi friends!  Thank you, thank you for all the wonderful comments and support from yesterday!  I'm so excited about this new job, and it's SO FUN to know that you are excited with me. : )

I was told that some people had a hard time posting comments yesterday, so try again today!  I'll keep the giveaway open a few more days, and I'll let you guys know who won on Friday. 

Today was the kickoff my new series on the Edit Blog, The Closet Project.  Go check it out!  I would LOVE to know what you think. 

Again, many, many thanks for the support and encouragement!  I so appreciate all of you!

Announcement and a Giveaway!

I have a big announcement to make today, guys.  And no, it doesn’t involve an ultrasound, a big sister t-shirt, or any “bump ahead”/”bun in the oven” jokes.  

(Just need to put that out there, since I know that's where your minds went. Admit it.)

As many of you know, I’ve been working as a Realtor for the last six years.  It’s been a true adventure, and I have (mostly) loved the challenge of growing my business during a down economy. I learned quite a bit about being a business owner, not to mention, gained some wonderful clients and friends in the process.  

With that said, I’ve been given the opportunity to change directions, and do something so awesome, that when I first heard about it, I thought, "how do I find a job like that?!"   You may remember my post last year about my friend Lauren, and her wardrobe consulting company, Edit By Lauren.  She came to my house, edited my closet, and we had SO MUCH FUN.  Well, you can imagine my excitement when Lauren recently offered me a job with Edit!  My role will be to help manage and grow her Atlanta office, and assist with Edit’s expansion into the Nashville market.

There are many ways in which this job is perfect for me:

1.  My friends and family have asked me for years to go shopping with them or help them create looks, because, somehow, I’ve tricked them into thinking I’m stylish.   

2.  I am borderline obsessive about purging junk from our house, and the closet is my specialty.  When I was pregnant with AG and went through the “nesting” phase, I never actually came out of it.  I feel that I should use my insane organization compulsion for the greater good, and not for, say, getting rid of John’s stuff simply because it’s been scattered across the closet floor for the last 3 months. 

You know. Hypothetically.

3.  Perhaps I can now turn my love of clothes and shopping into something other than a reason to A) get in fights with my husband, or B) hear the phrase “now, WHY did you need that again?"

4.  This will probably be the push I need to dress like, oh I don’t know, a responsible adult, instead of wearing gym clothes all day, every day. Don’t hate, people.  I actually have some really cute outfits. But would YOU rather run up and down your driveway 10 times in a row just because your toddler thinks it’s fun, while wearing  heels or while wearing tennis shoes?  Exactly.  Either way, I’m excited to join the ranks of Women In Real Clothes everywhere.  


Although I may need lessons on running in heels.

Now.  I know what you’re thinking.  “Wow Sherri, this sounds great!  What exactly will you be doing?” 

I am SO glad you asked! Here’s a snapshot of the services I’ll be offering:

• Wardrobe Consultation
3 hour consult, after which you will walk away with tons of new outfit options from pieces you already own.  Husbands REALLY like this.

• Personal Shopping
We’ll hit up the mall, Starbucks in hand, and visit stores you like, that are within your budget. I’ll be the shopping buddy you always wanted, and will tell you the HONEST truth about whether you should purchase those camouflage hammer pants.  (I'm just kidding.  I'd never actually let you get near any camouflage hammer pants.)

• Virtual Styling
Styling Consultation via Skype--Even though I know I look like a total goober on Skype, I’m game if you are!

• Custom Packages
Styling for a special event, packing for a trip, or picking out some killer outfits for your high school reunion.  You know....the one your ex-boyfriend is also attending.  Things like that.

Awesome! So how can I help support you, Sherri?

Aw, you’re so sweet.  Spread the word!  And listen, I know you guys would do this because you are all kind and awesome, but here’s some extra incentive:  For each new client you send my way, I will send you a $50 Amex gift card!  

Oh yeah.  Now you’re talking.  Anything else you want to tell us?

Yep.  You know it.  I’m offering a deal exclusively for new clients who schedule an appointment between now and December 31st, 2012 :

• Introductory Special: $195 for a Wardrobe Consult (regularly $295) through December 31st. My shopping services are also discounted to $50/hour (regularly $100/hour) for this limited time. Tell your husbands to book a session as a Christmas gift!  Or buy a gift card for your mom/mother-in-law.  Edit has plenty of male clients as well, so don’t leave the men in your life out!  *The special price applies to all services scheduled before the end of the year; they can be redeemed at a later date.

But, Sherri, what if we’re a little nervous?  I mean, we’ve seen you at the park, and we know you wear spandex. Not to mention, you apparently think cowboy boots can be worn with almost anything.  How do we know that we can trust your fashion judgement? 

Well, you don’t.  Yet.  But here’s the deal:  Beginning tomorrow, I’ll be kicking off a weekly style segment on the Edit blog, called The Closet Project.  Essentially, I’ll be conducting an “edit” of my own closet, and pulling together outfits using items I already own; an Edit specialty, and one of the primary goals of our wardrobe consultations. There are going to be some hardcore rules and I’ll be ruthless about what stays and what goes. 

Ruthless, I tell ya.

Mark your calendars and be sure to check it out on the Edit blog tomorrow. I’ll be posting outfits to Instagram and Twitter (@sherridickens), so make sure you follow me on those sites as well.  And while you're at it, you should definitely follow Edit By Lauren on Facebook and Twitter.  Definitely.

Wow, Sherri, you're getting kinda bossy. 

I know, I know. Sorry about that! But it's for your own good.  You'll thank me later.

Alright, we'll trust your judgement.  What else should we know?

Just one more thing.  I’m giving away a free wardrobe consultation!  All you have to do to enter is leave me a comment describing your fashion style in one word (or two or three, I’m not picky).  For additional entries, tweet this post, like it on Facebook, or mention it on  your own blog. (And make sure to leave a comment telling me you did!).

By the way, feel free to tell me that you think this is awesome, you’re so excited about it, or that you can’t wait to read The Closet Project.  

(Sherri, you’re kinda putting words in our mouths, okay?)

Well, I  have been writing your questions for you.  

Rude.

Halloween...in November

So this was the year that I realized Halloween is my nemesis.  I mean, come on.  Kids mainlining sugar like it's their job, REFUSING to take pictures in their cute fairy princess costumes, and again, RAGING SUGAR HIGHS TIL AT LEAST 10PM.

(John really needs to limit his candy intake next Halloween.)

So, the day started off all cute and fun, and I'm not gonna lie: Mama was enjoying "testing" the Halloween candy in the weeks prior.  (Which was clearly my duty as a conscientious mom. Obviously.)

On Halloween day, AG went trick or treating at school.  Being the old pro that I am (I wish you could see sarcasm; those words would be thick with it), I knew that I couldn't send her real costume to school.  Fortunately, AG owns every Disney princess dress ever made, and that particular morning, she was feeling quite Cinderella-ish.

Although I'm pretty sure Cinderella wore a ball gown, and not a miniskirt.

Later in the afternoon, when I picked her up from school, her teacher was all, "I'm sorry.  I gave them 2 pieces of candy for snack today.  I just couldn't fight it."

And I was all, "no judgement here, sister," while imagining the horror of 10 persistent three year-olds simultaneously begging for their candy.

You do what you have to do, am I right?

We head home, where my plan is to toss on her real Halloween costume, and head over to a friend's house for some pre-trick or treating pics. Now.  I realize that MOST parents probably let their kids know what their costume is ahead of time, so they can get excited.  MOST parents probably even involve their children in the costume selection process.  I am not MOST PARENTS.  Mainly because I have an extremely picky and stubborn child, and as the old saying goes, "it's better to rely on bribery and coercion than ask permission."

(Or something like that.  I can't really remember.)

I'm trying to get her costume on quickly, since we were running about 10 minutes late already, when AG abruptly discontinues her sugar-bouncing, because she suddenly realizes what she is wearing.

AG:  Mommy, nooooooooooooo!  I don't want to be a ballerina!!!!!!!  NO BALLET!!!!!!!  I NO GOING TO BALLET!!!!!!

Me:  Soooo, what you're saying, is that you don't like ballet?

(Side story: A few weeks prior, AG tried a ballet class at school.  I may or may not have gone just slightly overboard in ordering some cute leotards, ballet shoes, and tights, because, oh the cuteness. As I picked her up from her first class, I excitedly asked her about it.  To which she decisively replies, I don't like ballet.  I don't want to go anymore.  It's too loud. And I'm all, but I don't understand.  It's ballet.  Are they playing Metallica or something?)

Now, as an OLD PRO (again, excuse me while I go die laughing), I should have had the foresight to know that when I busted out her leotard and tights to use for her Fairy Princess costume, she might just have an opinion about that.

But at least I had the foresight to have candy on hand for bribing purposes.

Let's look at some pictures now, shall we?  I'm hoping the cuteness will help me forget the sugary horror.

So, I got my hair highlighted the day of Halloween, and my colorist actually darkened me to my original color. (Which is, AHEM, not blonde.  I know you must be so surprised. Or not.)
She then added in my normal highlights, so the end result was a darker blonde.
Because my hair felt so much darker to me, I may or may not have rashly announced to Facebook that I had just become a brunette.  (NO.)

Apparently, I decided to dress up as Dramatic Mommy for Halloween.

Apparently, Fairy Princesses ride tricycles.  Because they're awesome like that.

Sorry it's blurry, but sugar-bouncing prohibited good picture taking.

Do you like my fancy camera?  No wonder my pictures are so blurry awesome.

The princess, and the dragon.....and the tricycle.

Trick or treat! Sassy fairy on wheels.

Right before we turned them loose on the neighborhood, with a mission to select ONLY the fun-size Twix bars.
Mu-ahahahahahaha!

Happy Halloween.....in November.