Friends, Romans, countrymen.  Something really bad is about to happen.  This Sunday I am running my first marathon.  Okay, half marathon.  Okay okay… the split half relay.  But it is still 6.5547 miles… an activity that definitely falls well into the category Things I Have No Business Doing.

My Friend Mandy guilted me into signing up about eight months ago when I went over to her house to give her and her newborn baby a visit.  I had barely sat down before she launched into a sales pitch of how she needed support to get her baby weight off and wouldn’t it be fun if we all ran a race together and oh by the way they serve beer at the end of the Rock and Roll one in October and YOU try saying no to some sleep deprived blubbering mess with big puffy eyes and a baby sucking all remaining life energy through her nipple trying to bribe you with beer while you’re holding a pan of lasagna on your lap.

“Sure I’ll sign up,”  I said, slipping two Benadryl in her coffee and patting her head.

Apparently my memory-erasing plan didn’t work because the following week she forwarded me a Groupon.  The jig was up.  She signed up on a team with her husband; I signed up on a team with my sister.

And it’s right about now, six days before the gun fires at the starting line, that I am realizing I probably should have been practicing or something.

I mean, I’ve been preparing for the run in that I have the cutest little running pants and have spent the past six months thoughtfully refining my play list loading up on heavy carbs.  But the running part… well let’s just say that I felt like God was starting to answer my prayers yesterday when I read that a giant methane cloud was discovered over the four corners that has the potential to put a quick and final end to civilization.


C’mon, God. A little to the northeast, and let it start burning stuff by the weekend.

I have always tried to live my life with the mantra “no regrets”, and really until now I’ve just needed it to get me through the morning after I ate an entire cheesecake or as I set a mouse trap under the sink.  But between us girls, this moment as I stand at my kitchen counter dipping ginger bread cookies into cream cheese frosting and sipping my vanilla latte I am regretting the shit out of this decision.

Sure, I run every once in a while.  I ran the St. Pat’s Day 5-miler a couple of times.  A couple of times where I trained regularly and still was seconds away from having a stroke as I crossed the finish line.


I’ve also ran a handful of 5K races, once even being chased by hundreds of zombies.



But this is another whole mile and a half and there are no flesh eating zombies and my cardio has been limited to hovering over public toilets and speed walking out of the library with a toddler under each arm.

Suddenly the plot from Gone Girl is becoming extremely attractive.


The Pilates Girl on TV is a Sadomasochist (and a give-a-way)


This fall style inspiration is brought to you by Ross Dress For Less You guys.  So far I’m down about 7 1/2 pounds – the weight of an entire person.  When they are born.  You can follow along with me every Wednesday on my Facebook page when I share the results of that morning’s Weight Watchers weigh-in.  I may also ask for encouragement, prayers, mojo, donations and/or voodoo.  Because I’m not gonna lie this sucks ROYALLY and I need all the help and encouragement I can get. As awful as my mealtimes are, I will say that shopping is a lot more fun now that hangie downie thing on my stomach is beginning to retreat to the hell fires from whence it came.  I am starting to see the fruits of my labor, and those fruits are prominently displayed in this hot hot hottie dress. I’ve partnered up with Ross Dress For Less to show you some of their new fall styles, and lemme just tell you… this little number was $16.99. ALL THE YESSES. Right now they are running a promotion on their Facebook page to help give you inspiration for some fall looks, as well as a $150 gift card give-a-way. Here’s what you do: Visit their Facebook page to vote for your favorite fall blogger look Each week they’ll be sharing a […]

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Last year I was honored to be one of fourteen women to speak at St. Louis’ inaugural Listen To Your Mother show.  I was nervous because, like most people who choose to become a writer vs. a runway model, I’m more comfortable revealing my soul without people focusing on the fact that I carry 90% of my body weight under my chin. My friend Carrie came over to do my hair and make-up; you all helped me pick my outfit. The day the videos were published on YouTube I settled onto the couch, opened a fresh can of Diet Pepsi and hit play.  Though it was painful to watch myself on camera, I was relieved that everything on my body appeared to be in its intended place and I didn’t have any visible boogers. But then I started talking.  It looked like I was missing my bottom tooth. “WTF?”  I thought, my hand flying to my mouth to see if I had somehow missed my bottom incisor removing itself from my gum.  Nope, still there.  Was it just camera shy?  I ran to the mirror and noticed that it was there, but evidently over the past twenty years had shifted back into its preferred position – horizontal.  Sort of like my sisters.  Opah! I’ve been slightly preoccupied the past several years, and keeping three little […]

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To Lillian On Her Fourth Birthday


Dear Lila, A few weeks ago we were eating breakfast at a restaurant when a middle aged woman timidly approached our table. “You have beautiful girls,” She said. “Thank you!”  I postured, anticipating the motherly compliments that usually come with taking you and your sisters out in public. “I have two sisters,”  She continued.  “And that one…” she paused, pointing at you. “THAT one was born with a gift.” “Go on…”  I said, stuffing a sausage link in my mouth. “She’s your middle girl.  That’s special.  She’s going to grow up instinctively knowing how to be a leader and a follower.  How to protect and how to be vulnerable, asking for help when she needs it.  How to admire and appreciate someone who can do what she can’t, and how to teach someone how to do what she can.  She’s really lucky.  Not everyone gets that gift.” And just like that, she totally shattered the stigma I had always associated with being the middle child.  The guilt I carry around that it’s you who gets overlooked, lost in the shuffle, doesn’t know what role she’s supposed to play. But you’ve always known, even if I haven’t.  Your role is to make us all laugh.  To hop around instead of walk while you squeeze my hand and give random strangers high fives as you prance by […]

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Vacation… Showtunes, Head Lice and Food Guilt


Sometimes I wonder if I ever truly appreciated vacation before I had children. Sure, I enjoyed the fact that I was laying on a beach chair or skiing down a mountain somewhere and not sweating bullets in a conference room full of assholes, but I also went to happy hour six days a week and was able to finish a meal any time I wanted. I’m not saying that people without kids don’t need a vacation – I’m saying that this morning I was awakened at 3am by someone fish hooking my nostrils with their little fingers. You know what I’m talking about. Last weekend we spent four days at the lake with six other couples which, let’s call it what it really is – group therapy. You wait all year to have an itty bitty little break from your kids, and within the first hour you’ve talked about nothing but ear infections and head lice and sports practices and the best foods to make kids poop. And for the first time in a long time you feel okay about yourself. Not totally sane, necessarily, but like you aren’t the only parent who spends their mornings counting how many more baths you’re going to have to give your kids before they can do it themselves. “Wait… you punish your kids by forcing them to develop, […]

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Honey, You’ve Got A Little Something On Your Chin


I first met my friend Rita in the Navy.  We were the original all-female team assigned to the F-18 Super Hornet, operating under code name Blisters.  It was sort of like a real-life Top Gun and, just like Maverick and Goose, we pulled some real shenanigans.  It was late one night in the mess hall, and over a bowl of stale gruel we realized that we shared the same childhood dream of one day becoming mommy bloggers.  Right then and there we made a promise to each other that if we ever made it out of that god forsaken war alive we would guest post for one another regularly.  Or at least once.  I started my blog here, she started a slightly funnier blog called Fighting Off Frumpy.  So without further adieu… here’s Rita, the war hero.     My name is Rita. I have four kids, two dogs, a cat, a mortgage, and one hell of a sweet tooth. Oh yeah, and a beard. Look, I didn’t ask for facial hair. And I didn’t always have it. (And I don’t have a mustache, thank goodness, though I keep my upper lip waxed just in case it decides to turn manly on me like my chin did.) I just have a beard. It’s not Duck Dynasty or ZZ Top-caliber, but it’s there – and since […]

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Raising Girls: A Beginner’s Guide


Contrary to popular belief, I was ecstatic when my doctor announced in the delivery room that a third little girl would be joining our family.  I grew up with two sisters, and couldn’t wait for my three daughters to experience the same excitement and volatility of being trapped in an emotionally unstable, explosively melodramatic, all-female shitshow. Plus we already had all of the girl stuff, which made things easier because I place an inordinate amount of importance on logistical household efficiencies.  Our boy name was Jessica, and Jessica was going to look just precious coming home from the hospital in his little pink gingham Lilly Pulitzer classic shift dress. But I’m tired of talking about our fake son Jessica.  Let me tell you what I know about raising little girls. 1.  Be warned – girls can be every bit as gross as boys.  Except it is freaking disturbing.  When hanging out with my nephews, I am surrounded by a cornucopia of bodily excretions.  Farts.  Burps.  Dropping trou and peeing in the front yard.  Poop talk.  Boogers flying to and fro.  Unidentified matter wiped on my pants.  It all seems very organic, normal and expected.  Because they are boys.  And boys are disgusting. But there is just something straight up haunting when a little girl with ribbons tied around her pig tails lifts her leg at […]

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