Lots of stuff

Things are happening at rapid speed lately. Gone are the lazy days of drinking coffee and watching the kids destroy the house. And I thought I was actually busy back then. The joke is on me.

We spent Easter in Dallas at LTC. Mia signed a song. 

She got a gold, duh.

This LTC thing is a whole new world for me. I was secretly dreading it because in my small little mind it was going to be a giant homeschool convention (not that there's anything wrong with that). 

And I know absolutely nothing about homeschool conventions except that it's where the Duggars go to meet their future spouses. 

 We actually had a blast and I am already looking forward to next year.

If homeschool conventions are anything like this then count me in! 

 This sums up Mia's and Bode's experiences at LTC. Can you guess which one is the introvert and which one is the extrovert?

Bode wore Vans on cowboy day at school. This, and the fact that my kids have their own Starbucks drink, confirms my worst fears - I'm raising Edmondites. There's no turning back now...

I ran a half marathon the other day. 

I have been known to be a bit of an intense running partner at times. 

Thankfully, I found someone that gets it (translation: He doesn't think creating training spreadsheets is annoying.) 

 My freakishly long arm and I had a blast.

I don't know how I will do life without this woman.

And just like that, the awkward years began.

Mia received part if her inheritance in the form of braces over spring break. And I tell ya, you could feel the tween angst just bubbling up out of this child the moment she walked out of the orthodontist's office.

She now communicates with her brother in eye rolls and exaggerated sighs. It's so wonderful.

She instantly looked older.  But not too old for me to drag her into my lap and squeeze the life out of her. I promise she will never be too old for that.

Less than a year ago she was a baby! A sweet, innocent, crooked toothed baby.

And now? She is staring at herself in the mirror from multiple angles.

I'm kind of dying inside.

This post will not be going in the kids' scrapbook.

Or maybe it will. Who knows?

If you're a dude, this post is not for you. Go check your fantasy baseball scores or something.

I want to talk about boobs for a moment.

And, guys, if you're still reading this I know how much you love them but this isn't going to interest you, I promise. You know millions of ways to waste time, go do one of those. Now.

I came across this article the other day and lemmetellya, I was blown away. Blown away because in all my boob years I never knew that I was wearing the wrong sized bra. I'm built like a 12-year-old boy so I wear a bra mostly for social reasons. In fact, the brand I used to buy was called "Sweet Nothings." I kid you not.

So, after reading the article, I went here to learn how to properly measure myself, and then used this handy, dandy bra fit calculator to find my actual size.

Now, I have used all kinds of calculators from the internet. I've calculated how tall my kids are going to be, which New Girl character I am most like (Jess, duh), how much a certain house will cost, and which royal I would most likely marry if I, too, were royal. But in all my life I have never come across one to tell me what size of bra to wear. Where have I been? (Confession: I've been calculating which Wizard of Oz character I am, that's where I've been).

When I found out that I was an actual, respectable size I went all kinds of crazy. I was dancing around the house, turning cartwheels, high-fiving the mailman, and eating cookie dough like it was going to go straight to my boobs. (I secretly believe that it might.)

I was googling my new fancy bra size and was planning to buy all kinds of cute undergarments until my husband kindly reminded me that my google searches were flagging his p0rn-accountability tracker thingy which meant that every time I looked at a new bra, it sent the image directly to his best friend's inbox. Ooops.

Sorrynotsorry.

Best day ever!

All you need to know about Great Wolf Lodge

Just got back from our annual Great Wolf Lodge trip. All three of my children love it. I tolerate it, for the sake of my children (all three of them).

Thankfully there is a Starbucks in the lobby and if you get super lucky your kid will win you a 3 foot long twizzler in the arcade. It's big enough to eat for breakfast or hang yourself with, whichever you prefer. 

There is no reason you need to enlarge this picture and analyze my make-up less face, chlorine hair, and horrid posture. So stop it. Now.

I also found out that there is a Torchy's Tacos exactly four miles down the road. If you don't care for expletives on your cups and painted on the walls, you might want to skip Torchy's. But then you wouldn't get to eat the best #@&* tacos on the planet and that would be a shame. If your kid reads the cups and sounds out the expletives, just act like its another language and you don't have a clue what it means. Or blindfold them. Either way, just go there.

Highlight of the trip, I stepped on a wet, used bandaid in the pool area. Then I cried and used the expletives that I learned at Torchy's.

Overall, great trip. Crowds were pretty low and the kids slept like babies.