The Perfect Stache

It's Wednesday and time for the Tater Queen to deliver another outfit. One of which I would wear probably over and over if I had these items in my closet. Everyone keeps asking me what I am going to do for my birthday? The answer is probably nothing except go to dinner with my son and maybe a few friends later on, but for now I just want it to be quiet. At 41, do you really want to blow it out and feel like crapola the next day? Not really and I am celebrating that I already received the greatest gift seven years ago. But if I was going out I think this would be the perfect outfit for din din with the peeps.

First would be this great t-shirt

Source: tillys.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Then this plaid shirt underneath

Source: wanelo.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Add these skinny ass dark grey cords

Source: thisnext.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

With these fantabulous Frye Boots

Source: m.svpply.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

And there you have it, a few drinks, good times, gossip and friends. Fun outfit huh! What more could a girl ask for? All of you here with me.

Happy Halloween,

Dusty

 All goodies can be found on the evil source called Pinterest. Follow me here.

Birthday's Past

So, I am going to tell you a story. Since I will be the whopping 41 on Thursday, I thought I would share my 30th birthday with you. Back in the day, this little miss used to have way too much fun. When I turned 29, for a whole year all I could think about was turning 30. I dreaded it. I hated the thought. I talked about it until my friends where like, Gawd can Dusty turn 30 and get this crap over with. So, I gathered up a few friends and family and took our little butts down to the honky tonk and did a little line dancin' and a whole lotta drankin' cause that's what you do when you turn 30 and feel like the world is coming to an end. 

These were some of the best times of my life. I think about it now with the people that I was with and the wonderful relationships and it will never be replaced. I had a blast! So much so that I don't really remember much of it, nor does anyone else, but one of my besties sent me these pics and it made me think about how much I love these people and am so thankful that with such a sucky milestone, they made it fantastic even if they had to fill in the details. And remember these were taken with a disposable camera. Hell, digital wasn't even a thought back then.

My cuz Rachel. Gotta have a "grab the boob shot"

me, my aunt Carla and cuz Jason (I think he had a few drinks)

I have no idea what I was drinking, but it was good I am sure

I had many of them

my aunt's now ex husband. I thought he was a nerd and I also

apparently was very into spanking

dance moves

the same dance moves

and I also apparently didn't believe in wearing a bra

and oh, that shirt, fashion no no! I gave it to Goodwill.

maybe I thought I was skiing

winding down the night..

and the finale

Well, I can't show you that picture, because I don't remember taking it but it involved my wassa. It was a point and shoot moment. There is only one copy, thank you Kodak. And my friend Becca holds it as blackmail.  The fact they even developed it, is hilarious, but I am not sure they knew what it was. I had on black panty hose and remember they had the white panels in the crotch, it really looks like a maxi pad covering the parts. Thank god I groomed is all I can say. I just took the picture and didn't think a thing about it until the film was developed. Oh, well. Not the proudest moment, but looking back on it so funny. We all do crazy things and it was defiantly one of my craziest because anyone that knows me knows how modest I am. I don't even get undressed in front of people, but this night, I had too much fun. Thank you 30th birthday for one of the best birthdays ever. 

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Let's Get Ready to Ramble

I am back and although it's day by day, I am up for a challenge, for the most part. I thought I would bring every one up to speed on my my shenanigans the last few days.  So be prepared I am going to ramble. Plus it's my birthday week, why not celebrate with a few laughs.

First, there are some things about this situation that makes me laugh. They say laughter through tears is a sign of getting better. If that's the case, I should be in the ER from excessive pain. Point in case, exDuh (yes I am still going to refer to him as such, seems even more fitting now) called me a gold digger. Why did I find this funny? Because I have never dug for gold in my life nor would I pick up a shovel to do so. #Winning

Second, because above mentioned person took the TV in the bedroom, I was on the hunt for a replacement. I didn't want to spend a blue million dollars on a new one, so my mom told me to check out Goodwill. I did so and scored a TV for $14 smacks. I come home with wires and plugs scattered everywhere and decided that I could do this, hook up the Direct TV thing. After 45 minutes of plugging, unplugging, programing, Googleing  codes for the TV because it didn't come with a remote, I see this long black wire thingy with two silver ends. I, for shits and giggles and at my wits end, decided to plug one into the cable box and the other into the TV. Holy Batman, it worked! I now feel like I could work at Best Buy...as a door greeter. #Winning

My moma mia gave me an iPad. I am addicted. I have turned into a total nerd in which I carry it around like its a child. I have no clue why. I have an iPhone, it does the same crap. But it's great for playing Diamond Rush. I played for 3 hours solid on Saturday night because I had nothing else better to do. I won a high score, collected 7 coins and instead of saving them promptly bought 5 more lives. #Winning

Finally, I watched alot of the ID channel in between college football and devouring a foot long coney dog. My appetite has gone to the birds so it was the first meal I had all day long on Saturday. I am secretly hoping the fat starts to feed on itself or at least just my fluffy and reduces down to a small loaf of banana bread. Total ramble. Any hoot, I was watching some case where the guy off'd his wife and his would be attorney made the statement that his client knew how to work the ladies, he said and I quote, "To get the hoochy, you gotta buy the Gucci."  Then it hit me, I am no hoochy, I have no Gucci and I am not a gold digger. I do better with diamonds. #Winning

Again, thank you everyone for the tweets, emails, sweet cards, gifts and words of encouragement. I am so humbled. I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I promise to get back to what I love and that is blogging and friends. #Winning.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

The Lost Goodbye

As many times I have tried to write this post, I have erased it. As many times as I have tried to put into words for days they did not come. I have closed my eyes a hundred times and tried to wake up to see if it was not real. The truth is, it is real. Let me take you back one week.

Last Friday night, there was no sleep. I lie in bed and wonder. The anger intensified by the exhaust and on Saturday morning the release of months of why, what for and how come? Then came the choice to choose for I could not take the fear, the worry, the explaining. The choice of what I thought could be the road to a better place, unfortunately not. It was another lie. Three days later, a normal Monday. Work, school, the thought of what is for dinner and then late after noon where those words.."Oh, by the way, I moved." Just like that without warning. He was gone without facing us. One phone call. A phone call. I rushed to my child, not telling him what happened. We walk into our house and there it was. Silence. Empty rooms. Nothing. In a matter of hours, we became a statistic. No good bye's. No I am sorry. No discussion. Silence. Then tears. I hold my son and promise it will be okay. 

The facts are simple but make no sense. I am not perfect, but I try to live my life and surround myself with people that are good. I am not one of influence. I have never been a follower. I believe in soul mates and I believe that you can love in good and bad. I believe in unselfish acts. I believe you give to those who love you and not beat them down. I believe that you do not run away from your problems. I believe that cheating is evil. I believe that anything can be unbroken and mended. I believe in respect and I believe in family. He had for all reason believed in none. 

I forgave the multiple cheating which devastated me and my child and at one time sent me into a dark hole that took months to come out. I forgave the words in which I thrust upon him, myself out of anger for which I cannot take back. I forgave the selfishness and the lack of attention for both of us. I forgave. But all he does is run.

This isn't the first time. It's a pattern. But this time the choice was easy his friends or his family. For him, the choice was his friends. His words to me, "I want to be able to have fun with my friends and see my son on my allotted time." Alloted Time. His words to me, "your too controlling, I am glad about my decision." 

My answers to this are simple. At 40 years old, when do you grow up? In his world maybe never or not enough to be committed to the one thing destiny brings us and that's family. To say that you are glad with your decision to leave a seven year old boy whom you promised to never leave again. Disgusting. To leave without compromise or trying to see if there was an answer to solve it all. To say I love you to death but.. Maybe my ultimatum was not the best decision, but made out of fear. To leave a home where no matter how angry or how sad, you were loved. You had what you needed, but the responsibility of being a good person, father and partner in life, isn't who you are. You were at times at your best as what you could whole heartily allow. For you cannot make promises you can never keep. 

I find my heart aches. I grieve. I cry when no one is looking. I grit my teeth to hold it in. I will miss your smell. I will miss hearing the words mom and dad under the same roof. I miss you wanting your Cinabuns you call them on Saturday mornings. I will miss not celebrating birthdays together. I will miss our talking about our son's first home run or his first real date. I will miss not sharing the pride together of raising a good man. Everything he will accomplish, we will experience separately. Growing old together. I miss you. We miss you.

But I do not miss not knowing where you are. I do not miss the compulsive lies. I do not miss wondering if you are alive or dead when you decide not to come home. I do not miss the obnoxious 3 am drunken nights that spread until the morning. I do not miss having to explain to our son why you did not come home. I do not miss hearing the multiple stories of bar fights and thanking God afterwards your okay. I do not miss knowing that you cheated again. I do not miss that you could not be a family man and support your family fully. I do not miss begging for your attention. I do not miss our son wanting your attention. 

I say this. I am not perfect. I said and did things I should not have. But I never wanted three to become two. It's so sad that one can forgive but the other runs away. I fought. I fought for you. But you never fought. I fought for my family. I ultimately lost. I lost my soul mate. My son receives a part time father unable to look into his eyes everyday and every night before bed. I lost my sense of self. Did I fail? Maybe. Did I make the wrong choices? I do not know. Did you make the wrong choice? You're true heart will tell you that answer one day when your alone, away from your friends, when the wind hits you in the face and takes your breath away and you feel like you have been punched in the gut.

There is a line in a movie that I love in which the character says, "I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart and I really never got it back." I do not know what our future holds. I do not know how many times I will promise my son, I will never leave for he asks me why his father promised not to leave again. I know it's been not fully explained, but the question is, was it really a good enough reason? I do not have the answers. But I know I am changed. I have to start over. Start over. I have to smile when I do not want too. I have to hide when I do not want to hide. I have to be ashamed and embarrassed when I just want to feel loved. I do not want to be a statistic. 

So I hope that someday my son finds a role model in his life that will provide those things for him. I pray that he grows up not like his mother or his father but his own individual for the example we have set has not been the white picket fence. But I know that I do everything in my power to be his mommy. I hope that he knows a love where he means saying the words, that he wraps his arms around someone and he knows that no matter what they love him back. I hope that he learns that relationships are kind, deserving and special. I hope I can pick up the pieces and hug you more, kiss you more and say I love just one more time every day. I hope he knows that no matter what me and his father made him and I will never be unselfishly kind to God, for that was the one thing I know as real.

So, I move on. You are not here to protect us. I fill the empty spaces with new things. The tears will eventually subside but for now much needed. My heart will half way heal but for now it's hurt and angry. Our son will learn to accept it but probably not fully now. I know people will judge but will never know both sides. I know I take responsibility for my actions. I know that friends will come and go, but sides are always taken. There will be those who will not understand but will one day. For the cruel and disregard for me, please think of my son. He has done nothing wrong. He doesn't need to see my tears nor his father actions. He needs peace. I need peace. For the last time, I say I am sorry. I truly love you. My wish is that this family is healed with true unconditional love one day.

Thank you all for being patient. For those who sent the texts and emails. My heart is humbled by your friendships. To my true friends and family, my cup runneth over.

Dusty

The Skinny Big Side of Things

Good weekend? I can give mine the mediocre status. I wanted to share some thoughts with you and this is strictly my opinion and my brain cells wasted, but feel free to let me know how you feel at the end of this. Last week while blog hopping, I came across a blog that I do not normally read and to be truthful I can't remember the name of it, but it was a fashion blog and on that day she talked about finally finding a dress she had been searching for in a size 2. I immediately stopped reading, skimmed to the bottom and almost comment but clicked out. Now here's where my thoughts come in. Does it detour you that someone identifies their size on a blog?

Here's my truth. I didn't find it offensive but I found it detouring. I by health standards am not overweight. By my standards I feel like I am. I have been thin all my life, but I also had a baby at 34. The last 10 pounds have been the hardest and I fluctuate  But at my skinniest I never identified my size to people, well unless Duh was buying a hot pair of jeans and then I made sure I told him, but even then depending on the brand and what type they were it's always hit or miss because of my shape. (insert semi large fluffy). I remember after having my son and joining Weight Watchers. I went to my first meeting and these women looked at me like I was crazy. After about 3 meetings, I stopped going. What they didn't realize is in MY head, I have the same struggle as a plus size person, not by society standards by mine. 

I can say that my size ranges anywhere from this to this depending on an item. But I remember one time someone saying that Oprah was a size 8. I thought, oh yeah sure and I am the tooth fairy. But in European countries sizes are different and then they resonate to the US and if you can afford to buy $300 jeans to say your a size 4 when your really a size 8 then go for it. The problem I have is that society puts the pressure on a woman to be labeled with a number. I feel that pressure, not by numbers but by weight. I wouldn't care if I weighed what I did if I could get rid of the wiggle jiggle, but like someone who is larger I struggle, maybe not quiet the same, but in my head I promise I think the same things..I feel like I have thunder thighs, my butt is a ham-hock, I have the extra waving arm skin..etc...So seeing someone identify they looked high and low for a size 2 dress, maybe out of insecurity, maybe out of jealousy, maybe just being a bitch, but I probably won't read her blog again. I know not fair right? I look at fashion blogs with different size people every day, but they don't label that new jacked from JCrew with a website to click at the bottom that says click here for size 4.

I know its just life. I know that if I got off my ass I would be healthier and lose the busted can of biscuits look in my mid section, but I also have a life, its my own demon. But why can't we just say, "I was looking for this dress for so long and finally found it." High five yourself.

So what do you think? Would it detour you even if your skinny or plus size, to see someone identify their size on their blog?

Happy Monday,

Dusty

I Took A Dump

It's Friday! It is gone and forgotten, but I needed to take a dump so here's the story for this week.

Sometimes we make choices to see the beauty

whether it's crazy thoughts wrestling in our heads

the temptations of the beast

or the battle of our inner selves

the answer is simple

This is me. It's just life.

Happy Friday,

Dusty

Boot Scoot

Wednesday is here and Tater Queen's fashion update. Of course it's October and the beginning of fall here and in some places out West its snowing and starting to get colder. I don't think any part of the US can make up its mind on what season it is. The leaves have just began to turn here and now they are falling off the trees. The rain has been insane. So, I thought today would be a good day to introduce some snow slash rain boots since we are all up to our eyeballs in "who knows what the weather will bring!"

Ever been to LL Bean or ordered on line? These beauts are on my list of wants. 

Perfect for rain, sleet and snow. I also see these with some rolled up boyfriend jeans
and some scrunchy socks

Source: llbean.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

These are from Target and affordable

Source: target.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Who knew Crocs could be so cute and I hear these puppies are warm

Source: crocs.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

And finally... I couldn't let a boot post go without my FAVS!!!!!

Hunters, Black Original, No gloss, Thank you very much

Source: usa.hunter-boot.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

I shall sleep with these if I ever own a pair!

So there you have it, the Queens picks for boots this season of rain or snow. Have you got a favorite? 

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

I Give Good Steve Jobs

I am just going to throw out some random crap today. Yesterday, as I was talking to a great friend, I realized that I should be a psychiatrist. Not because I give great advice, because I am probably psycho. We were talking about chasing dreams and this was my advice to her...."it's like when your kid made the ugly ashtray or the god awful flower pot when they were little and because they made it by hand, you automatically love it. People love hand made crap. They will fight over it because we all want what other's can't have and its pretty. I would kill a bitch for some Hunter boots. I think your going to do great and it's not their dream it's your dream. Everyone has to start somewhere. If you love and believe in something then it will succeed. Who knew Steve Jobs would invent a phone with a talking slut named Siri."

Wise advise don't you think? Of course an email before that to someone else I confessed that I ate a whole bag of Starbursts once and pooped rainbow colors for a week. My advice on that is don't eat a whole bag of Starburts unless your on psychedelic drugs and then it might be fun.

When I first started blogging I thought I would be a fashion blogger. Then after extensive research, about a day or four hours, whatever, work with me, I decided that even though fashion is a passion, looking fantab for you people every day meant I couldn't look ugly. And I honestly like those days I look ugly. I am a southern girl, but the closer my hair to God every single day isn't important and I personally think that having rooster hair just so Jesus will let me in the pearly gates isn't going to work. After all the 80's are back but the man wears a toga. 

My point and usually I don't have one is if you have a dream follow it. Someone invented the toilet thank god. It's cold here right now and my butt setting on a cedar plank hole in a 2' x 2' building isn't living if you ask me. Then came toilet paper, so you don't have to wipe your butt with bark. A man somewhere decided to cut a hole in the wood box to have ventilation and light and then guess what? A wise ass decided that it would be more convenient to build this room in a house and wallah there you have it, the invention of the Shit Hole. 

So see, let your creative juices flow. Be a risk taker. Be proud that you're doing something that has meaning to you and who cares what others think. Follow your heart. Don't let your dreams go to pot, be a Steve Jobs and Siri. And by the way, can Apple please make Siri understand redneck. I ask her questions all the time and her response, "I don't understand what your saying." Can you imagine talking in Pig Latin to her?

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

  

Blabber

The weekend is over? Really? Who said? Let me at 'em...Although I am not surprised  Monday just loves to come in there and ruin it for the good of Saturday and Sunday. Since sometimes when I am delusional, I find myself sort of interesting, I thought I would share some of the things I am digging and not digging right now. My weekend was relaxing. Family time, college football, blog reading (shame on me for having 523 unread posts on Blog lovin) and thank goodness I also read these master pieces in my blog list and favorites on my phone. But it was good to catch up on the latest and greatest of the world. But enough of that lets talk about me, well, the crap I am digging and not digging right now.

Digging

1. Soup - it's starting to cool off here in Redneckville and you know us southern girls. We can throw dirt and rocks together in a batch of stewed tomatoes add some veggies and call it soup. My family isn't fond of the rocks or dirt unless it's on their clothes or under their fingernails, so I try to get my soup on any other time. I have had Loaded Potato Soup twice this weekend. I can see that hot liquidy things will be a theme in our house this winter.

2. While on the subject of food, I discovered Artisan bread in the bakery specifically Telera sandwich rolls. I sliced, added deli ham and some pepper jack cheese, baked in the oven until the cheese melted and lord, thank god my mama was no where around cause I would have slapped her it was so good. Yummy goodness with a little spicy mustard. Soup and sandwich is what we had for dinner on Sunday.

3. Instagram and Twitter - I love them both. I would rather follow on Twitter and take a glimpse at everyone's life on Insta rather than Facebook. I dig it because it's spontaneous  And sometimes makes no sense and you wonder what the hell? But its fun right at that moment and I love it.

Not Digging

1. Buying a new lip gloss only to get it home and know it's not the same color it looks in the tube. Girls nothing pisses this Tater Queen off than a disappointment in a lip gloss. I have a little of a fetish with it. Always searching for the perfect peachy pink..Suggestions? Leave in the comment box. So when I got home to see that the Smooth Coral was Sheer pink, well, it wasn't a good 5 minutes in the Alley household. It's in the giveaway pile.

2. People who clip or file their nails in public. The other day a lady at work was clipping her nails. I almost vomited.  Then I was in a restaurant this weekend and a lady was filing her nails. I almost vomited. It's disgusting not to mention unsanitary in public. Gross!

3. My dreams. I have had multiple reoccurring dreams and I don't know what they mean. One is all my teeth falling out, the other is about people who used to be significant in my life that are no longer and haven't been there in many many years. Some said my teeth falling out is stress and anxiety. I can dig that. Some say I have unresolved expressions towards these people I am dreaming about. Frig if I know. All I do know is I would like to sleep and if do have a dream, please make it with me boinkchicawowwowing with the members of Bon Jovi. Well, specifically one, but I won't mention his name.. Richie Sambora. 

So, there it is. Dig it. I think I dug it right into the ground, down to the worms. So what are you digging and not digging? What's the perfect peachy pink lip gloss? What do you're dreams mean?  Etc..

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Tag Your It!

My first ever give away was a pretty good success. I am grateful, thankful and all kinds of full of something that you come over and support me and my whackadoodle antics. So without keeping you on the edge of your seat..

Because we do crap Old School here, my assistant, the Great Kid drew from all the entries

And then I made a stupid sign 

Wait for it

Congrats to Stacia from Mr. Spaghetti face and GLFP. Send me an email with your address so I can get the Target gift card to you so can go buy stuffs! Everyone be nice and congratulate her.

I hope everyone has a great weekend. Thanks to all the new followers and the regulars who set on the bar stool night after night and get intoxicated on crazy. I love ya! Oh, I see a country song in the making.

XO, 

Dusty

Hot Tamale..My Mom

Today's Hot Tamale is my Ma! You know say it like they do up North. I have authority on this because I reside with a Yankee. Today is her birthday. I won't say how old she is because she reads this master piece...62...and I could (not or possibly) get in trouble. Oh, who cares she lives a county away and would have to drive like a bat out of hell to get here and listen, unless she's going to pay her JC Penny's bill, she aint o' comin' during the week. This weekend I will decide to lock the doors and pretend no one's home.

And if saying her age didn't do it, this should solidify my place below my brother and sister in the will. If you don't hear from me on Monday, I am in an underground hide out with an assumed name. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMA, I LOVE YOU! Thank you for squeezing me out of your loins,

Dusty

It's a Cover Up

Tater Queen here, and lets get this day on and over with because it means Friday is close. I am always cold. Even in the summer, I am in long sleeves especially in the evening or inside. I run a heater under my desk all year long because I work with men beasts and they are always hot. 

This Fall I am loving the over sized sweaters. Something you can throw a tshirt on and some jeans, boots and off I go.. to a somewhere warm hopefully. Here are just a few that I am cozying up too.

My FAV!!

Source: shopplanetblue.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Love how she added a broach as a clasp

Source: marionberrystyle.blogspot.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

                                       Campfire and Hot Cocoa worthy

Source: instagram.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

So with these, I could stay toasty until spring or at least Tater Queen fashionable, right? 

Do you love the oversize sweaters? Do you wear them just in the fall or all winter.

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

You Can't Fix Stupid

Do you feel that? Monday gone, see ya, you suck! So reading through my daily smut, I see yet another celeb decided to tongue wrestle with a nobody. The country crooner Jason Aldean thought it would be so cool to get chocolate wasted with sprinkles and forget he had a wife and children at home and make out with some girl who has the good year blimp on her chest. Seriously, people dot com her. You want her on your ship if it sinks. 

This is what my dealio is. And I use naughty words so please don't take offence, but why do these famous people insist on being ate up with the dumbass? In a world of sex tapes, camera phones and audio devices of the secret agent kind, where do they think that someone, somewhere isn't going to catch them turning into a Rico Suave or the Long Island Lolita? This is why crazy bitches pull guns or cut off the peter cotton tails.

But here is my kicker. They always profess their undying sorrow. Apologize to their families and their fans and eventually we forget about it because they either make a movie everyone wants to see or writes a country song that relates to our dying dogs and we instantly fall right back in love. I wanna say hey pecker head, so you love your wife and children but you loved Bud Light more and your lips just turned into a magnetic force toward some chick just long enough for someone to take your picture. Oh, that's right Kristen Stewart just got out of her mess, so maybe there is hope for you. Yes, I agree that enough alcohol and the guy with cheap cologne and two teeth looks good, but shit do him quick because when you wake up in the morning your gonna see that your whole body could be ate up with a bad case of gingivitis.   

Listen I am no saint, but I have never in my years of partying ever had a one night stand. I am not saying anyone is bad for doing so, but I guess I just didn't see the purpose of hurting someone over three minutes of yum yum and a puke fest until I passed out.

When will celebs learn that if you do a sex tape it will eventually leak out. If you go into a bar and decide to rub your hands on a hot chick like waxing a Corvette, someone is going to take a picture of it. If you turn into a gold fish lips begging for food when your master comes home and jet propel your tongue down someone's throat, your gonna get caught. 

I wanna say don't do it, but then I wouldn't get to write a funny post about fixing stupid. Oh, wait you can't fix stupid. 

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Hit Me Baby No More Times

This weekend flew by and was jammed packed. The kid has his last baseball game of the season and I survived not being kicked out of the ball park. My mom brought me these cassette tapes on Saturday, so yesterday we decided to watch them and it was of my son when he was about 3 months old. It brought back so many memories. There were tears while nobody was looking of course. One of my step dad who passed away in January holding him in the air so proud and of his baptism in the Catholic church while we all were sweating like pigs. Gawd, it was so hot that day. 

There are so many bloggers I follow that are pregnant and as my kid is seven, they grow up so fast. Look out followers, this could be a one and only Mom blog post. I know your not used to that. And although I sometimes wish I could go back and kiss that baby face a thousand more times, I also don't miss all the work. At this age, I can sleep at least until 7:30 when he then comes in to tell me he's hungry or needs to pee. All the while staring right into my face about 2 inches away. I don't miss the dirty diapers although the poop now is more on display for royal purposes. At two years old, I had my own personal courtesy flusher because he loved the toilet, but now it's "mom, come look at this thing, its made a complete circle and looks like a snake." 

I especially don't miss the late night feedings. I chose not to breast feed. It was a weigh your options really. The kid on the boob or the husband. I chose the husband and now after 14 years it's mostly just choosing to put on a bra every day for them that's a treat. I remember when my milk came in and for the first time I had porno tits. Perfectly round softball tibbies. I cried. I wished for boobs all my life and someone told me if I didn't breast feed then they would stay like that. Effing liars! They shrank and droop. But there was something about the boob that my son always loved. I swear if you had them and he was crying like a wild wolf, lay him on a set of kahunas and the kid was out for the count. Big boobs to a baby are like a sleep number bed to an adult. Seriously, if you had medium boobs and moved around it could have been the quarter in the heart bed at a sleazy motel, but if you had double D's? Total make-out session on a water bed at sixteen. I prefer to think that he just loved me anyway and loved my singing. 

Babies are the greatest gifts from God, I truly believe that, but God didn't tell you about the maintenance kits that come along with it. There isn't a manual. And as they get older I am still looking for the manual. Cars come with manuals. Toys come with manuals. Kids come with "good luck sucker, don't screw it up, not returnable." When they are babies all you want them to do is say moma and at seven all you want them to do is stop talking for five minutes. There are days I want to change my name to something unpronounceable.

But I will say this, if I never do anything else in my life, I am perfectly fine with that. He's my best friend and at sixteen probably won't think so, but I could not love one thing more.  And yes, he's growing up so fast, but I cannot wait to see what he's going to become although if he doesn't get the mouth of the south in check he may be talking like one of the guys from Swamp People. So, now that my chest is nothing more that a piece of plywood to him, I am his source of food only through the grocery store and rattles have turned into baseball bats, my heart is what he will always have.

Congrats to all the new mom's and soon to be mommies. I hope your sleep number beds are on level 75 and throw in some memory foam. You're going to need it.

Happy Monday,

Dusty