...untitled...

For the last almost-year, I have wanted to write something. Anything. Something describing the river...no, ocean, of emotions that were flooding through my life.

But I couldn't. It didn't seem appropriate. While I made most of my life public for quite sometime, whether by my own choice or not, somehow- now, it didn't seem right. The fishbowl I was swimming around in was changing...and it was time to hang curtains around the glass house.

I wrote posts in my head over and over. Thinking of different ways to try to catch up my blog on my life- then I would question myself. Why do I feel like I need to do this? Because writing is my therapy. That is why. I felt like if I just started fresh, I would be leaving out chapters in my book. {Even though, lets face it- the book has been sparse over the last few years.}

So here goes...

I was driving to the airport...head just above water in the ocean of emotions I just mentioned. I'd driven this drive hundreds of times- but this time it was different. This time I was dropping my daughter off for her first trip to visit her dad since our separation. She was excited to see him and I was excited for her...and terrified for myself. {emotional roller coaster} She had never, ever been away from me except for a night here or there with my parents. I worried about every.single.detail of her trip from seat belts and baths to dinners and stranger-danger. {I mean psycho worried- I wanted to book myself a ticket to fly with them...and just follow along behind every step of her stay, to be ensure everything would be fine. I didn't, of course. But I wanted to.} Then before I knew it, I was driving home, listening to her stories of all the adventures they'd been on during their time together. I had nothing to worry about. {but that's what moms do}

There are things that I will not say about my life, the people in it and the decisions I've made over the past year. Simply put? I am happy...and it's a wonderful feeling. I love my daughter more than anything in this world. She will always be the first priority in my life. Her father is not a bad person- or a bad father...in fact, he's a great father. He and I just weren't meant to grow old together as husband and wife. We will always be in each others lives and I will never utter an ill word about him. {did you catch the pun?} I do hope that we will be friends...even though no one ever thinks that can truly happen. 

I don't know when or if I will even post this entry. But it is a start. A start to 2015...a new life and new happiness.

When A Dignified Cowgirl Goes Camping...And Meets A Racist

A few weekends ago, I did something I haven't done in years. I went away for the weekend with my cowgirls and our horses. We spent the weekend in a cornfield...totally roughing it. Well, roughing it with a horse-trailer that had a shower, toilet and heat. (Things have changed a lot since my last camping trip.)

The first night, we were all excited to cook our steaks on the grill...and sip our lemonade and vodka cocktails while watching our horses nibble on hay. Except...none of us knew how to use the grill. (When Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping...reality show coming soon.) Thankfully, our (brunette) friend, Laina, cooked our steaks for us...but we forgot the steak knives- so we had to tear into the steak like we were on The Walking Dead. (But I think even they have steak knives.)

Later that evening, we joined lots of other cowgals at the barn & drank...and danced...and drank. It was a great group of folks- everyone laughing and genuinely having a great time. (It could've been the fact that it was 35 degrees outside...and the barn had heat.)

We walked back to the trailer about midnight, totally exhausted. The heat felt amazing...right up until the electricity in the trailer...cut off. (When Drunk Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping?) The generator was on...but nothing was working inside the trailer. It was way too much to comprehend. Thankfully we figured out we'd blown a fuse or a circuit or something- and as quick as the power shut off, we got it back on.

The following day was the big ride. I had been concerned that Tristan may revisit his prancing actions from the parade the previous year. He did...but this time there was no elderly couple for him to bolt towards. We pranced and spun circles for roughly 6 hours. It had the potential to be a stressful day- but I totally enjoyed every minute of it. It was so much fun to be around all my girlfriends, all decked out in Dignified Cowgirls gear.

Later that evening, we all met back up at the barn for more dancing...and apple pie. (Did you guys know that isn't just dessert!? I've never been so happy and proud to be southern in my life!) We were all attempting to learn the wobble...since the DJ played it about 27 times...when a fella approached me. 

"I wanna ask you something," says the fella dressed in head-to-toe orange.

Now, if you know me, you know that Drunk Eden can be one of two things- your lovable best friend, or the bitch who will claw your eyes out b/c you pissed her off. And the line between the two? Very, very thin.

"Me? What do you wanna ask me?!" I said.

"I just wanna know why...why all you dance to is that n*gger music!" he says, stone faced, dead serious.

My heart was beating so loud, I could no longer hear any other noises that surrounded me. I floated outside my body and watched myself strangle the orange stranger- and slam his lifeless head into the concrete floor. (It was a dark moment.) 

"What did you just say to me!?" I asked...snapping out of my dark moment, thinking maybe I had missed something. People like this don't really still exist today, do they? 

But I hadn't missed anything. I'd heard him correctly the first time. I wondered why, of all the people dancing in the barn...he chose me to ask this question. I think God sent him to me...because homeboy was about to get an earful from a blonde-cowgirl-rapper-wife. (And a drunk one, at that.)

"Because it keeps racist assholes like YOU away from us...that's why!" I said.

He tried to butt-in...but I pressed on.

"So that's how you classify all hiphop music, huh? That's what you call it? Let me just tell you something..." I proceeded...at this point, I believe my finger was in his face about a quarter of an inch away from his eyeballs. (His friends scattered.)

"Hip hop is all colors, shapes and sizes...you dumb, redneck *^*$)#@)*%&" (Keep in mind, my shirt read "Dignified Cowgirls" on it. The words coming out of my mouth might not have been dignified, but the topic I was preaching? Totally effing dignified.)

About that time, my sistah, walked over to the DJ and requested Jump Around. 

"I, I...I'm not racist! I listen to 50 Cent!" he proudly proclaims.

"Well...good for you. You do realize he's a black man, right? Like our President?" I said. (Not sure why I felt like I needed to toss Barack into my argument...but whatever. I'll blame the apple pie.)

Then I heard the intro to Jump Around...and something took over my entire body, mind, soul and mouth...and I began jumping like I was in the NBA and screaming every word to Jump Around into the orange-redneck-racists face. (There is video of this...that I will take to my grave. House of Pain would probably totally sue me for the horrendous rendition. I could hardly walk the next day.)

I'm not sure if my words really changed the orange-redneck-racists life...but I can pretty much guarantee one thing- he will think twice before he asks a question like that again. I'm pretty sure if my words didn't terrify him...my dancing/jumping did the trick.

Having a Falling Out with a Tooth

It happened. My little one lost her first tooth...and I missed it.

We discovered the loose tooth on the way to the airport. Well...actually, we discovered it's replacement tooth, that was coming in just behind the baby tooth.

"I think I have a cavity!" Little Miss said.

'A cavity...let me see...OMG a new tooth!" I said, clearly shocked.

The entire ride home, Little Miss wiggled the loose tooth. We discussed different types of food she could try eating to loosen it up even more...and even (jokingly) talked about tying a string to it & yanking it out.

A week went by and the tooth was literally hanging on by a thred. I had a shoot to get to...and we had tried everything to get the tooth out before I left. I begged Little Miss to not lose the tooth while I was gone...not this one, anyway...it is the first one.

"My tooth came out. I am sorry," was the text I received about an hour later. I teared up...at my photoshoot...in front of my clients.

I got home and joined the excitement of waiting for the Tooth Fairy! Little Miss was beyond excited and had a bit of a tough time falling asleep. She must've woken up just as the tooth fairy was swapping cash for the tooth- because not only did she (or he? We must be PC!) leave money in the tooth box, but he/she also left a gold coin taped to the outside of the front door! (Creative fairy, eh?)

I am determined not to miss the next tooth-fallout. And apparently, so are her teeth b/c not one is loose.

Spider Mama

Charlotte's Web was one of my most favorite movies in the world, growing up. So naturally, when Little Miss came home from school wanting to snuggle and watch the glorious story about 'some pig'...I was all about it!

After the movie, homework, dinner and some playtime- I was drained. Why was I drained? Because Little Miss's attitude was just as rotten as a tomato that had been in the sun too long. Foul. I fussed...and nothing changed. We argued...nothing changed. By bedtime, my attitude matched hers.

"The only reason I fuss about your attitude and correct your manners is because...it's my job to make sure you grow up to be a nice, kind, polite person..." I explained to her, as we discussed our days before bed.

"I want people to hear you speak and think Wow! What a polite young lady! Not...Ugh, here comes Little Miss Bossy Pants with no manners!"

She looked deep into my eyes as I spoke. I felt like she was really picking up what I was putting down...it was finally resonating with her!

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?" I said, thinking she was going to apologize for her earlier actions.

"I'm glad we aren't spiders...because...if we were- you'd be dead. We wouldn't have met!" she tells me.

"Oh...well, I'm glad we aren't spiders too!" I say.

My question is this. Is she comparing us to spiders because she loves me so much and would be sad if she didn't know me? Or is she thinking that, if I was a dead-spider-mama, I wouldn't be punishing her for her attitude? Either way...I am pretty happy to be a human.

 

DBE Death By Exercise

A few weeks ago, while shopping with one of my most favorite gal-pals at the Maxx, we found ourselves in the workout gear section. (I'm not even sure what the proper term is for that section- shows how often I workout!) She mentioned she'd signed up for a 5k with her work...I joked that if I ran a 5k, the person trying to rob me must be a really horrible thief. Then something happened...you guys- something came over me, I kind of wanted to do the 5k too. It was the strangest feeling. I'm the valedictorian of the couch-to-5k dropout program...where was this odd urge coming from!?

Okay, so maybe it was a chicken-or-the-egg situation...because we'd found these really cute workout pants that matched- which naturally, made me want to buy & wear them somewhere. Then I had to get shoes b/c you can't jalk (jog + walk) a 5k without good shoes! (Who needs an excuse to buy shoes? Not this girl.) In just a few short hours, I went from making fun of the 5k to joining in on the party.

Side note: We might've had to rush right home & try on our workout gear...that may have occurred- while I'm not confirming nor admitting that we did that like two 6 year olds with new dress-up gear.

The 5k started at 7am the following morning- and we were amped. We had a healthy, runner-friendly dinner planned- like total pros. Then the power went out. Like...O-U-T out. It stayed out until midnight. It was like 300 degrees outside- and oh yea, we had been horseback riding so we smelled wonderful. (We ended up having to eat dinner at Outback b/c we really had no other options closeby- but that disaster is a post in itself.)

Running on just a few short hours of sleep, literally, we arrived early to the 5k lineup. We had decided that we should run the very beginning because...well, because of peer pressure. Other people were running & we couldn't just walk...that would be tragic for all involved. (Or just for me. Whatever.) The few minutes jogging nearly killed me. Death by exercise...DBE. I thought I was going to pass out. I was looking into rental homes as we passed by, deciding whether or not they were rented...contemplating if they would report me if I just dove right into their pool. I pushed on...legs on fire. At mile marker 1, I started to feel a little better...a little less panicked. About a half mile later, the burning fire going up my legs disappeared. At the moment, I was pretty sure my legs had just gone numb from the pain. (I learned this was lactic acid build up on my muscles...who knew!)

I felt pretty good about myself once the pain stopped & I realized I really wasn't going to be hauled off in an ambulance. That is, right up until I saw a 5 year old jog passed me. At first, she kind of deflated my happy bubble. But after a few minutes of watching her, I realized- I want to be that little girl. If she can do this, so can I! (And I think I should be entitled to get piggy back rides when I get tired too...just saying.)

So far this whole workout thing is going good...this is the most I've ever kept up with working out in my entire life. Who knew working out in the mornings could give you so much energy and motivation!? I'm definitely not in shape enough to run the next 5k- but I know I'll be able to run more than I did last time...and as long as I can top myself- that's all that matters! Whoop whoop for me! ;-)