My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:

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I just realized this morning that yesterday was National Siblings Day—or, as I like to call it, Opposites Day. I can’t think of a person on earth who is more my opposite than my big brother, Drew.

Me and My Brother

Thankfully, we share the same Biblical values . . . but that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

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A Strongly-Worded Letter

If you guys follow me on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter, you may have noticed last week that I had a pretty rough time, technologically speaking.

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The President of My Fan Club

I’ve had this dream of being a professional actress ever since the time in middle school when my brother hit me in the face, and I used my eyeshadow to “enhance” (i.e. create) a black eye. You know, so I could better illustrate how much Drew’s actions hurt me. So, the eyeshadow was a kind of metaphor for the bruising that took place in my heart.

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Baby Weight & My Prayer for My Daughter

Let’s talk about baby weight for a minute, shall we? I’m not talking about the kind we all carry around for varying lengths of time after childbirth. No, I’m talking about the kind of baby weight that pediatricians like to refer to in percentiles. That stuff that helps us determine where our kids rank in comparison to the height and weight of their peers.

I took JJ and Averi for their annual checkups last Friday. And I have to say first of all that they should hand out gold medals at the exit for those of us who are stupid enough to schedule back-to-back appointments for two toddlers during nap time. This medal of pure gold could have an inscription that reads, “Silence is golden. Bring your kids AFTER nap time, you nitwit.”

Or something like that.

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I bet if neurologists did even the most cursory study of my brain functionality—specifically my long- and short-term memory—they would find that I’m only slightly better off than Ozzy Osbourne.

Though, probably for different reasons.

I blame my dad’s genes for my awful memory. But I’m not so sure that Ozzy even remembers who or what he should blame for his.

Sadly, most of my childhood memories are lost to me now. They’re piled behind stupid movie quotes, annoying children’s songs and completely random facts that I never wanted to remember. Like the hierarchy of biological classification:  kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Y’all, I didn’t even have to Google that. It pushed it’s way right up to the front of my memory. In that prime real-estate where my grocery list and social security number should be.

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As I sit down to write this post, I’m both overwhelmed with gratitude and a bit desperate to hold on to the memories of my babies who no longer look like babies. How did they grow from this…

hesmybrother_11 hesmybrother_12

…into this… Read more →


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