Tuck and Roll. It’s game time.

I have started and deleted paragraphs for the last hour. Am I sharing too much? Too little? Will they understand WHY I am opting to dive into surgery? I decided to stop fretting and start writing.

This is for me. This is a diary to share my emotions. This is my mommywonderand. A place to record my thoughts.  A place to reflect.  A place to look back and see where my mind was at during moments like these.

How do I even begin to describe this choice without going on and on and on? Why do I feel I need to justify what’s about to happen to me in one week?  In my heart I know I don’t.  My social media family, although often opinionated, has proven to me over the past four years that they support me.  And yet, today I want to make sure you really understand.

I’ll start with the “post-baby-body” I was left with after child #2. I was 26 when my last baby was born.  Oh how I remember that fine age.  My metabolism was working hard for me back then. Oh the good ol’ days when I could still eat cheeseburgers and fries, workout the next day and drop 5 pounds. And then I turned 27. Even though it didn’t happen that fast, I noticed my metabolism was slowing and my body didn’t recover from late night ice-cream runs like it once did.  I decided to put down the burgers, and pick up the spinach. It was time to make consistent healthy food choices.

I worked hard.  I made good choices.  I stayed focused and on point because “abs are built in the kitchen right?” The work brought results. I lost my baby weight, but NO WAY did my body look the way it did before kids. If you follow me on instagram you’ve seen my journey.  I’ve lost pounds, I’ve lost inches, and I’ve lost most of my “pooch.”  But what remained was my war-torn belly of mommy scars…stretch marks.bellypic

Don’t get me wrong. I love what each line represented.  I love my boys.  I’m proud to be a mom.  It was a dream come true for me and raising them is my greatest joy.  But that didn’t change how I felt in a bikini.  The pride I have in being a mommy was often masked by the shame I felt when my belly was exposed.  I battled in my mind for years over my insecurity.  Was this just vanity? Was I wrong for not embracing these “war scars” as blessings?

Inside I recognized my mind was just battling fear.  Fear of what friends would think.  Fear of what Facebook would think.  Fear of family.  Fear of what you would think.  I had to do what I learned from so many personal development books I’ve read have taught me to do.  I had to punch fear in the face!  I had to embrace the truth I know about me.


I never stopped working on me. I’m committed to health because I love feeling healthy.Yes, I have moments of cheeseburger weaknesses, but I fight for health every single day.

This is not about you.  No offense but it doesn’t really matter what you think. It matters how I feel in the body God gave me.

I’m not doing this to like myself more.  I’m good with me.  Five years ago that was not the case.  Had you met me then you’d know me liking me has been a process.  But I do like me. Scratch that.  I love me.  I’m confident in me.  This won’t make me a better woman.  It won’t change who I am.  And thanks to God and a whole lot of small group time with the ladies at church, I’m really glad about that!

So there it is.  Next Tuesday, November 3, I’m doing it.  I’m going under the knife. I will share each moment with you. Even the post-op pics.  You’ve learned by now, my life is an open book. I hope you’ll keep reading.

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A Letter To My Grown Up Kid

I blinked. It happened that fast. Everyone warned me I wouldn’t see it coming and they were right.  I couldn’t stop it. Those sweet, old, church ladies told me that you would grow up faster than I could possibly imagine. They told me one day I would blink and you would be a teenager. No expectant mommy to be thinks about the day their little baby will begin to transition into a young man. Of course there were days during your toddler years I longed for you to grow to the point you’d stop kicking and screaming in your car seat.  There were moments I just wanted to look at you say “Just grow up!” (I may have actually said that a few times out loud) Sure there were moments I wanted to stop singing songs from the Wiggles and have a real conversation with you as you sat in the front seat of the car.  But those days came way too fast for your mom.  I love you but I don’t like this.

Here’s the cold hard facts: You are growing up whether I like it or not.  Since we’re being honest, it is all very overwhelming to me. It feels like you’re passing me up.  I don’t mean just the fact that you’re taller than me. You’re passed the days I could help you with math (we realized that last night for sure), there are things that only you and dad can talk about now, and you don’t even need me to dress you.  I mean kid you’ve got style.  There’s something else about you that surpassed me.

You have a deeper walk with God than I did at age 12. You don’t meet many young men these days who are so deeply in love with God the way you are.  There aren’t too many kids out there who just “get” what it means to have a relationship with Jesus the way you do.  I love that about you.  It’s always been you.  Dad and I can’t take credit for it and you know that probably bothers him a lot too.CameronKiss

And your personality! How could I write you and not mention your personality? You constantly surprise me with your sarcastic humor and quick wit. You make me laugh the way your dad makes me laugh. I love that about him and I’m so grateful you’ve got that piece of him in you.  It is a gift from God!

You have so many incredible qualities that I admire. You are a true blessing to this family and to me.  You were the first to introduce me to this mommywonderland that has become my life. And because you were the first for me, there are many firsts you will experience that your brother won’t.  So because of that, I want to ask my grown up kid for some grace.  Can you be patient with your dear old mom?

I have never been a mom to a teenager before. This part of life is new to both of us.  I’m just as confused as you are about the changes you’re going through and will go through.  I’m going to mess up with you.  Probably a lot. There will be things we will walk through together that I have to learn from too. I won’t say the right things sometimes.  Other times I’ll probably say too much.  I know for a fact there will be a day you’ll say, “Mom you just don’t get it!”  And you might be right.  I promise you, I’m doing the best I can.  Growing is hard on all of us.  But, if we can stick together, we will grow together.  I know we will learn together and, with God’s help, we will graduate into the next phases of life better together.

You are an incredible kid.  I trust who you are.  I trust in the values we’ve tried to instill and you have embraced. I have every reason to believe the words you speak.  I know you well and I’m proud of who you are.

So now you are asking an honest question: “Okay mom, then why do you freak out so much on me?” The answer is simple. Fear. I fear you outgrowing me.  I fear you not wanting to share every part of your life with me.  I fear going from mommy to mom to mother overnight.  I fear losing my little boy.

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you”

Psalm 56:3

You are and have always been God’s kid first.  Dad and I chose to entrust you to Him the day you were born.  So yes, I am scared.  I have lots of fears about you and your brother growing up.  But although it didn’t happen at 12 for me, I do trust in God.  I trust Him to watch you, protect you, and speak encouraging words full of wisdom, hope, and CAUTION to you when I’m not with you.  He’s the parent you’ll never out grow.  And He’s got your back.  And if He’s got your back, I can breathe a little easier and the fears I have about you as you grow will hopefully subside a bit.  This doesn’t mean no freak outs.  This means they will hopefully come less frequently over time.

You’re my first.  I’m your first and only.  So we’ll always have that no matter how old you get.  Now go do your homework.






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Perfectly Imperfect



Sometimes I think I learn a lot more from my kids than they learn from me?

Long gone are the days where I sit on a self-made pedestal and teach my kids all they need to know to be successful members of society. It’s funny how things shift when your kids grow a little older and start thinking for themselves. My youngest, Conner (age 9), is a sweet boy who loves to battle his brother in singing competitions. This mom wishes her silly children would realize they are equally the best singers in the world (good mom answer right?).

Conner belts out his song with such pride and then asks, “On a scale of 1-10 mom, was that a 10?” I have often repeated to myself the same question I ask when watching American Idol auditions. “Did no one ever tell them the truth?” I redirect him from this question EVERY SINGLE TIME he asks me with a question of my own; “Well, how do you think you did?”

Before I ramble on too much and take this post in down a famous mommywonderland rabbit trail, I’ll get to the point. My boy LOVES to sing. Singing brings him joy, gets him through homework with a smile, and turns shower time into a kick butt concert! Is his voice like choirs of angels singing? I can tell you with confidence it is not. But does that matter? NOPE.  Does he experience joy when he scrings (screaming mixed with singing…get it)? Absolutely!

And this was my lesson:

I started filming him mid homework jam session so one day he’d remember how he spent is post school homework hours but I got so much more out of it than planned. He turned around and caught me filming. What he did next struck me.  With his typical Con-man laugh, he said “It’s ok mom, you can post it if you want.” Embarrassment wasn’t on his radar.  It never crossed his mind what anyone else might think. GOSH, Conner Matthew, can you rub some of that off onto me?

To often this is my approach:

  • My selfies need filters
  • My pics with girlfriends need the right angle
  • My blog needs to be written with kick-a$$ titles and clever words
  • And God forbid anyone find out on Facebook I was having a bad hair day


Friends, I hope we can all learn from Conner. Do what makes you happy, and in Tony Horton’s words. “DO YOUR BEST- FORGET THE REST.” (which has actually become a family motto). Just be you. You are good enough, pretty enough. Perfection does NOT exist guys and gals and even if it did, you wouldn’t have many friends (jealousy is a beast)(Ill save that for another blog entry)

The older I get, the less I care what other people think. Yes youngsters, it will happen to you too. But Conner already has this part figured out. If it makes you happy, do it. If it brings you joy, keep going. If it helps you get through the day’s homework than by all means, ROCK ON!

Today, and for my days to come, I want to live like Conner. I will choose to enjoy life.  Even the things I’m not very good at because they make me happy. Will you take the Conner challenge with me? I have a feeling we will care less what people think, and do more of what brings us true joy!

Thanks for the lesson lil mister.

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