LuLaWhat? Huh? Is that the LEGGINGS? Y'all - read on.
So much has happened since I last wrote here! I finished up that sweet, sweet Marketing degree in the beginning of May and that was seriously an awesome feeling accomplishment. It's kind of surreal to know I'm actually a graduate after so many years of having completely given up on that dream. Even after I had completed all of my classes and before the University actually mailed me that really super expensive piece of paper, I kept checking the online system to make sure it was real.
So with that fancy degee, I guess a lot of doors are cracked open to me that weren't before. But me? I decided to go with a different door. I decided to become a LuLaRoe consultant. I don't need a fancy Marketing degree to be one - but I'm sure it will help me (cause, duh, marketing).
I submitted my paperwork to become a consultant on April 25th. At the time they were saying that the wait was 12 weeks before I'd get my call to become official. So I prepared myself, started saving money, and nestled in for a long three month wait. But then LuLaRoe started speeding up and I got my call on June 27th and I was OFFICIAL.
Coincidentally, June 27th was also the day that The Man took me to see The Cure in concert and managed to score us FRONT ROW & CENTER seats. Seriously, it was the BEST DAY EVER. (Legit! I was this close!! Look at that picture!!)
Since that day it's been a whirlwind, y'all. I live and breathe LuLaRoe and it's a lot of work. But I am in love with it. Every morning I wake up excited to see what's going on, if I sold anything, if customers posted pictures of themselves wearing their LuLaGoodies. The Man is 100% supportive and even though we're only 2 weeks in from the first day I actually started selling, I've made almost half of that initial investment back. It's a hustle, but I love that hustle.
LuLaRoe is different than other clothing companies. We, as consultants, order our inventory wholesale from the company. We can choose our styles and the sizes we want to carry - but the patterns and colors (and there are OH SO MANY patterns and colors) are given to us at random. We never know what we're going to get! (LuLaRoe is like a box of chocolates....)
So when we get that awesome inventory it's like Christmas. Let me tell you - on the days that my packages are coming, I am stalking the UPS man. I cannot WAIT to open those boxes and see what I got. This is maybe one of my favorite parts of being a consultant.
Once I have my gorgeous inventory, I take pictures of all of it and I sell it one of two ways. The first way is at in-home pop up parties. I pack up all my inventory, some collapsible clothing racks, and my trusty full length mirror, and I bring it to my hostess's home. I set it all up and her friends come over and shop and drink wine and eat snacks and we all have fun. I seriously have a blast with this and sell lots of stuff at the party. My hostess gets a credit of 10% of the total party sales to use with me so she can have some fun LuLa, too!
So why did I take those pictures? That's the other way I sell LuLaRoe - in my private VIP Facebook shopping group! This way I can reach ALL the customers. I upload those pictures into the photo albums in my group. They're organized by style. Customers browse through those pictures and when they see something they have to have, they comment SOLD and the item is theirs! Since I can't pick the patterns and colors I get from LuLaRoe and every pattern and color is limited, customers need to snatch up the things they love because they might not be able to get it again! I invoice them with their email address and they can pay with a credit card.
I'd love if y'all would follow my LuLaRoe journey! The Man and I are working on a website that will link to all of my social media stuff (in the mean time it links to my shopping group on Facebook, but that will be changing soon) and I'm learning to be more active with social media (Instagram, Twitter, YouTube). This has thus far been one of the most exciting things to happen to me. I've gotten a part of myself back that I lost a long time ago and I feel happier than I have in years. :)
Friday, July 22, 2016
LuLaWhat? Huh? Is that the LEGGINGS? Y'all - read on.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
School has been kicking my ass, y'all. I'm just about 1 month away from my final final and I've barely had time to breathe, much less keep up with my blog or my life or the laundry. It has literally been a day to day process of making sure I'm not screwing up something since classes started back in August.
But today I will take a few minutes to catch up here because it's been forever and this blog is like an old friend who always loves me, no matter how long I neglect it.
Back when I started this blog in 2007, I had these three amazing little kids. Goober was 4, Munchkin was 6, and Bug was almost 8. They were sweet and loving and writing about them was easy. Here we are almost 9 years later and things have changed. We're in teenager land right now and sometimes I feel like they're killing me.
I can't say no one ever told me. I can firmly remember when I had three in diapers and people would say things like "You think it's tough now! Just wait til they're all teenagers." Side note - to anyone thinking of saying some stupid crap like this to a struggling mom, just shut your damn mouth. You're not helping her.
But even with all the warnings, I don't think I was ever really prepared for teenagers. Bug was seriously the sweetest boy - and that sweet boy is still there, I get glimpses of him all the time - but my sweet boy is all buried in crazy stupid hormones and angst. Munchkin, at 14 years old, has been giving me hell, too (teenage girl attitude is some serious business, y'all), but it's Bug that has me really concerned.
Between the failing grades, the sleeping at every chance he gets (except for during normal sleeping hours, of course), the laziness, the defiance, the obsession with girls, and the attachment to his computer - The Man and I are grasping at straws as to how to handle him.
It's to the point where we are seriously considering sending him to military school next year. We've found a "reasonably priced" one in South Carolina - where reasonable is still more than many full time employed Americans make in a year - and it's on the table for discussion at this point. And I am a ball of mixed emotions about it. On one hand, I think it is the best thing we could ever do for Bug. He's so intelligent and has so much potential to be the greatest man. He needs structure and discipline in a way that I just can't provide. I know he would thrive with some successes and I really believe this school would provide him with those successes. On the other hand, he's my baby and I am not prepared to send him 600 miles away yet. I thought I had a couple more years before I'd be sending one of my little chickens to school.
We went to an open house that the school was having here locally last week and it was all I could do not to break into tears while sitting there listening to a very nice gentleman tell us about the day to day rituals of the school. I know that as much as I want Bug to be responsible and as much as I think he needs the discipline that a school like this can provide - I know that if we choose to send Bug to this school next year he will return to us having lost a lot of that sweet boyish nature he has right now.
I'm totally not ready.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
You hear it all the time from religious organizations mostly - "You have to have faith."
I've got a problem with faith. Faith is defined as complete confidence or trust in someone or something.
There are things I have faith in. I have faith that my alarm clock will wake me up in the morning. I have faith that the brakes will work in my minivan when I drive my kids to scouts. I have faith that The Man will come home to me every day and I have faith that it will rain almost every afternoon in the summer in South Florida.
These are things that have proven themselves to me over and over again and therefore I have grown to have faith in them.
But that's not the kind of faith that most religions are talking about. They're talking about blind faith. Faith that there is a being somewhere, somehow, that has a plan for your life and knows what you're thinking and is looking out for your best interests.
I'm not the oldest and wisest person around, but in my 38 years I've learned that if anyone's going to have a plan for my life or look out for my best interests, it's got to be me. Not God, not my parents, not The Man. I'm the only one who can do it for myself.
So no, I don't believe there is a spiritual higher power that gives even the tiniest care whether I win the lottery or get hit by a bus tomorrow. I don't think anyone is keeping score as to whether I've been a good person or a bad person or made the right decisions in my life and I certainly don't think there's a magical mansion in the sky waiting for me when I die if I choose to believe that line of bull.
It's up to me and only me to do the right thing and make the best decisions for myself. My reward for that is to end up in the places I want to end up and to become the person I am happiest being. What happens when this life is all over is an unknown that no one's ever going to know. It's not important.
The only thing that matters is making the right choices now.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Hey y'all. It's been a while but I'm still kicking.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
The only good that can come of this is that maybe someone else can prevent it from happening again....
Bug was only 3 and Munchkin was barely walking the day they walked out of our townhouse and through the neighborhood. Across the street and into a different pod of town-homes where a neighbor found them. Bug was wearing shorts and no shirt, Munchkin had on a creeper with little roses on it. Both were in diapers and had no shoes on.
I had put them in front of the TV and gone upstairs to take a shower. The Man was upstairs with me and we were talking while I showered. We were probably upstairs for 15 or 20 minutes. I had locked the front door.
I got out of the shower, got dressed, and wrapped my hair in a towel before going downstairs to check on the kids. The door was wide open and they were nowhere to be found. Presumably, Bug had unlocked the door, unlocked the gate to our courtyard, and walked through the neighborhood to explore, Munchkin following him.
I ran frantically through the neighborhood, checking with all of our immediate neighbors. No one had seen them. When I got to the next street over I saw the police officers holding my babies and talking to some neighbors I hadn't ever met.
After a little bit of police harassment, some admonishment, some making me feel like the worst parent in the history of the universe, an open case with the Department of Children and Families, a couple of home checks, and a trip to the health department to check on Munchkin's well being (she had some bruises they wanted to check out), I was cleared as suitable to raise my children and we were out of scrutiny. We put locks way up high on the doors that they couldn't reach even with a stool, we locked Bug in his bedroom at night so he wouldn't wake up before the rest of us and go adventuring through the house, and we told ourselves we were lucky that nothing worse had happened.
And we were lucky. We were so very, very lucky. When I read stories like the story out of Toronto today of Elijah, a precious 3 year old boy who wandered from his home into below freezing temperatures and sadly did not recover, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. Elijah's family was not lucky. I can't even grasp the pain they must be feeling.
Please tuck your babies in tight, put locks way up high on the doors, install alarm systems. Whatever you have to do to make sure your little explorers are safe, please do it.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
So my last post was pretty depressing and this one might not be much better. I haven't posted since then because frankly, I just don't feel like I have all that much to say. Do you really care what my Top Ten favorite snack foods are? I never wanted this blog to turn into a load of useless drivel or a forum to advertise "mom products" or whatever. It was meant to be a place for me to write. It has followed a bit of a mommy blog pattern because that's really what my life has been about since I had my kids. Like most moms, I guess.
Being a mom is great. Probably the greatest thing I have ever done. Probably what I'll be remembered for within my family. I feel like my identity is so wrapped up in being a mom that I've forgotten who I am. Who would I be without them?
Scrolling through Facebook today and I came across a post that said "Have you ever wondered by mirrors flip things horizontally, not vertically?"
Nope. Never even considered it. Because I don't wonder things anymore. I don't ever take the time to just wonder and think and ponder. All of my brain power is used up remembering things I have to do and places I have to be and things I need to pick up from the store. I have no time to think about bigger issues or things that "really matter" because by the time I feel like I can stop doing all the necessary tasks for the day and I've made my mental list of all the things I need to do the next day, my brain is tired and the only thing it's good for is watching something stupid on TV that doesn't require much thought.
It makes me sad for The Man sometimes... he likes to talk about big things. He is interested in things and wants me to be interested in them, too. And I used to be interested in things and be able to have intelligent conversations about them. Now I'm just waiting for him to stop talking about physics so I can remind him to call the washer repairman in the morning.
With this totally full but yet so empty head, I feel like I have nothing to contribute, nothing to write about, nothing to say that matters. I'm not even sure where to begin to combat this issue - does it just stay this way until my kids have grown up? Will my brain come back? Will I just be a "mom" forever with no real thoughts or cares of my own? Has anyone gone through this and come out the other side?
I don't mean to be a downer, y'all. Really, I don't. Overall, I'm not an unhappy person. I'm just somehow bored and busy all at the same time.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
I am stuck in a rut. And yesterday I had a little bit of a mental breakdown over it.
After a whole day of sitting behind a desk listing Fifty Shades of Grey tee shirts on eBay, I realized the day was growing late and I needed to think about what to make my family for dinner. I ventured into my kitchen and found it a disaster, the dinner dishes from the night before still sitting there untouched. In automatic mom mode, I simply pushed up my sleeves and started washing them, all the while thinking about what to make for dinner.
It was half way through the nasty sink dishes that I just realized I hate this. And yes, I'm trying to be mindful and stop focusing on the negative and try to be there while I do these menial tasks that just have to be done. But yesterday was hard for me. Because isn't that what prisoners do? They try to just get through every day of their sentence, doing their menial tasks, trying not to be angry, trying not to hate it. Except this is my life forever. There is no end in sight.
Yes, I realize I don't have it as bad as a prisoner. I can go jump in my minivan and go to the grocery store whenever I want to. I can spend all my money on my kids with wild abandon at any time. I have such freedom, really.
Is this who I really am? This frumpy mom character who puts on make-up twice a month maybe and whose life revolves around when boneless skinless chicken breasts go on sale at the grocery store? Is this me now? I used to be something more... I once stood at the precipice of a million paths.... and when I took a step, this is the path I chose.
I don't know how to get back to myself, to the person I used to be before I became everyone else's person.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Our Girl Scout cookie sale starts Thursday here in Spazland and we're ready to go. This will be Munchkin's 8th year selling cookies and over the years I've learned a few things about Girl Scout cookie selling. So that's what today's Top Ten Tuesday is all about... The Top Ten Things I've Learned Selling Girl Scout Cookies.
1. Thin Mints are kind of like crack. People will cut a bitch for the last box of Thin Mints at a booth. I am freaking out just a little bit because I only have 2 cases (24 boxes) of Thin Mints for Munchkin's first booth on Thursday. Samoas and Tagalongs are pretty popular, too, but nothing like the Thin Mints. If you've ever had to stand on one side of a card table and tell someone who has been waiting all year for Thin Mints that you are sold out, you know what I mean. People can get angry.
2. People like to tell stories. And not just Girl Scout related stories. People just like to talk, I guess. I've heard about upcoming operations, recent travel experiences, irritating relatives, and more. I suppose a Girl Scout mom behind a table is sort of a captive audience. Usually the stories will start out somehow relating to cookies ("I can't eat them because I'm a diabetic") and then launch into a full diatribe of non related information ("My doctor told me to walk more so I've been walking every night and it's really been irritating my left foot so I just bought some new Dr. Scholl's insoles.") This happens. And I have to pretend to care.
3. People would rather buy cookies from tiny Girl Scouts. Munchkin used to clean up at cookie booths. Our troop would earn enough money from selling cookies to do awesome end of the year trips to places like Sea World and the Nickelodeon Hotel. No one could say no to their little pigtails and toothless grins. Now that our girls are in their teens, people pass them by without a second look.
This is something I actually find kind of surprising and I'll tell you why. It's easy to be a Girl Scout when you're 5 years old. All your friends are Girl Scouts and you get to do crafts and go on fun little field trips. But when you're in middle school and your friends stop thinking it's cool to be a Girl Scout and maybe you'd rather spend your Saturday at the movies with a boy instead of planting trees at a nature preserve - well, then it's a little harder to keep up with being a Girl Scout. So when I see a Girl wearing that tell tale beige vest that says she's an older scout, I have a little more respect for her. She's making choices for her life that aren't the easiest, but she feels that they're the best. Those are the girls I want to donate my money to.
4. People are rude. Our girls are working hard. They're keeping their smiles on, they're trying to be polite and happy even when they're tired and often cold. If you don't want to buy the cookies, don't buy the cookies. But don't ignore them. They're not going to chase you down and demand anything from you. A simple "No, thank you" is just fine and much nicer than you looking at your phone the whole time you walk by our booth or practically running the other way.
But sometimes it's even worse than that. I've had people angrily accuse my daughter of charging too much for cookies (she didn't set the price, y'all), get upset with her because they run into Girl Scouts at all the stores, and the ultimate was when a grown man made a friend's daughter cry as he launched into a profanity laced tirade about how she was too old to be selling cookies (she was 14). I try to teach Munchkin to let that stuff roll off her back, but it's hard and it keeps her from wanting to sell cookies in the future. Selling cookies teaches our girls how to deal with rejection and keep on going - but that's a tough lesson for a little girl.
5. Walmart is not a good place to sell cookies. Going back to #4, Walmart shoppers are the rudest of the rude. They will curse in front of our girls, ignore them, laugh at them, and even stand at the booth smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke in their faces. Munchkin and I have done probably three Walmart booths in all the years we've sold cookies and every time I forgot how bad it was the time before. We don't have any Walmart booths this year and I'm thankful.
6. Math is hard. You'd think Munchkin and I would have every way to make change in our heads at this point, but I still find myself fumbling over math at booths. You want 6 boxes? Uh..... that's $24. You're giving me $30?? Um....
Yeah, I totally get it right in the end but at 8:52 pm on a Friday night when I'm just trying to get Munchkin through the next 10 minutes and I've been doing my 4x tables all night, I tend to fumble it up a bit. I'm sure I look like an idiot.
8. People are very loyal to "their" Girl Scout. Or maybe it's just an excuse. I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone tell us that they can't buy from us because their neighbor/niece/granddaughter would kill them. As if Girl Scouts are wielding Louisville Sluggers and kicking other Girl Scouts off their turf. I'm pretty sure little Hannah will forgive you if you buy a box of Trefoils from another Girl Scout. Again, just say "No, thank you" and we'll all move on with our day.
9. It takes a lot of cookies to earn enough for our girls to do anything. We get about 60 cents a box. So if our girls want to do one of those big trips at the end of the year they're looking at a 400 box minimum to pay for it. 400 boxes of cookies costs $1600. That's a lot of revenue to bring in and a lot of cookies to hock. Consider making a donation directly to the troop if you don't want to buy the cookies. That would mean the world to the girls.
10. Typically, parents sell a lot more cookies than girls do. This isn't the case for Munchkin really, but I see it with the other girls in our troop. Cookies brought to a place of business sell like hot cakes. Since The Man works in an office with only two other employees and I work from home, we don't really have this situation and Munchkin has to work a lot harder to keep up with the other girls. She does a great job with booths and family sales to compensate and she's never really the top seller in our troop, but since I know Munchkin is the one doing all of the sales I couldn't be prouder of her.
I know a lot of areas have been selling for a while already (I've been selling a lot of this shirt, have you seen any around?) and a lot of areas haven't started yet. To those of you that take the time to buy a box or two (or five) or donate to the troop or send cookies to the Military, thank you so much. Every sale does help a girl in your community and every sale brightens up that girl's day just a little bit more.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Goober is a safety patrol at his school and therefore is eligible this year to go to Washington D.C. with the other safety patrols in his grade.
Bug didn't go to Washington D.C. when he was in 5th grade as some of you might remember he was homeschooled that year (at least until March when I found myself crying in the elementary school principal's office that I was failing my child and could they please, please help me) - ah, such a fun year that was.
Munchkin didn't go to Washington D.C. when she was in 5th grade because all of our pennies went to her horseback riding career and we told her she could pick whether she wanted us to suspend horseback riding for a few months and put that money toward Washington D.C. or not. She chose horses all the way with absolutely no hesitation.
Goober wants to go and wants to go badly. So we scrimped and saved and begged and fundraised and made our final payment last month for Goober to go to Washington D.C. with the safety patrols.
Y'all, Goober is my baby. I am not what one would call a helicopter parent. I don't freak out when my children fall down, I don't baby them, I have never had too much of a problem letting them go on sleepovers or what-not. They walk to bus stops and friends houses and parks. They ride bikes and horses and they are not unfamiliar with the bed of a pick-up truck. But making that final payment through the school's website - making that final click - really sealed the deal for me. I would be sending my baby, without me, on a plane, to Washington D.C.
It's not a little city, but my baby is little. He'll be leaving in less than two weeks, in fact. During one of the coldest times of the year. My little Florida kid braving the wintery snow of Washington D.C. in January. I am not okay with this.
Y'all, I am freaking out. The school told us that they've never lost a kid, but I wanted to tell them that they've never taken Goober before. I've lost Goober and I'm his mom. I only had to keep track of three kids and I lost one. They're bringing like fifty kids and Goober is just one of them.
After our informational meeting where I got the exact itinerary of their trip, I rushed home and priced how much it would cost for me to get on the same flight and stay at the same hotel in Washington D.C. for the same few days. It really wasn't that bad, honestly, but The Man informed me I was crazy and wouldn't approve it. Foiled!
I will pack him extra socks and toe warmers and a warm blanket in case he gets chilly on the plane. I will pack him snacks and maybe a couple of super embarrassing notes that let him know how much I love him. I will be a nauseous wreck for the three days he is gone. I will be happily waiting at the school to pick him up at midnight on the day of his return.
P.S. One of my bestie's daughter just returned from this trip and she made it there and back in one piece. So I kinda feel a little bit better. Maybe.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
So I haven't blogged since last Tuesday but not without the intention. I should do a Top Ten Reasons I Couldn't Come Up With A Good Blog Post. I'll write that one down for a future TTT. :)
Today's post is all about the stuff I think I couldn't live without. I mean, I'm sure I could live without any or all of these items, but I wouldn't want to. Without further adieu, here's my list of the Top Ten Things I Can't Live Without:
1. Biosilk & a Flat Iron - Okay so this is really two items but they work together. Seriously. I've actually blogged about Biosilk before but I feel the need to touch on it again years later. Because I still use it on a regular basis and it still works just as well. I've tried other stuff, other products that were cheaper and promised me results just as fabulous. They all lied. Biosilk Silk Therapy is the only stuff that works. It has allowed me to fall asleep for 8 hours with wet hair, wake up, Biosilk my head, flat iron it, and look amazing. Amazing I tell you!
2. Tervis Tumblers - I'm a total Tervis junkie. I have multiple 16 oz tumblers that we use at home and I have two 24 oz tumblers that I alternate. I carry one of those babies with me pretty much everywhere and always with water in it. It is because of my Tervis tumblers that I typically get in almost a gallon of water a day. Stick a lid and a Bubba straw in that thing and it's way cooler than any silly water bottle.
3. Fitbit - I'm almost 3 weeks in with my FitBit and I still love it. There's been a serious FitBit revolution amongst my friends and almost every day I'm locked into a different challenge with a group of them. It keeps me super motivated and I've reached my 10k step goal almost every day since Christmas, often going much higher than that. One day was over 30k (what??!). I'm part of a FitBit Challenge Group on Facebook where people are insane and get upwards of 50k steps a day, but I'm not going to compare myself to those overachievers. I'm so proud of myself and my ability to keep with it this long. In February, a few friends and I signed up to do a 4k (no, not a 5k) fun run/walk thing so I'm glad to have something to look forward to.
4. Martha Stewart Cast Iron Dutch Oven - Affectionately known at home as, The Orange Pot, my pot makes me so super happy. My parents gave it to me last year for my birthday and I didn't even know how much I would love it when I got it. I happily keep it on the stove top even when not at use as it brightens up the kitchen with it's happy orange. I've made everything in that pot from fall off the bone chicken to spaghetti to taco casseroles to chili. It's my go-to pot. I don't know if it's actually cooking anything better than my old pre-2000 Pampered Chef pot, but it sure does make me happy.
5. Goody Ouchless Hair Bands - My hair lives in these things. They double as funky black bracelets when not in my hair. Just kidding, I realize I'm not resurrecting some Madonna jelly bracelet fad with my hair bands, but wouldn't that be nice? The secret to Goody's success with these things is that they place them in the checkout aisle at the grocery store. So I don't even have to think about it or steer my cart over to the aisle that would typically have hair accouterments in it. I just grab them and throw them on the belt. I realize they're not disposable but they do seem to disappear. I buy a pack about every 2 months and somehow they're all gone within that 2 month period.
6. My Phone - I love my phone. It is everything to me, as I'm sure it's everything to many of you. Some of you are probably reading this on your phone right now. It's astounding how much we do with our phones these days. Remember back when phones were just phones? That's ridiculous. Now they do everything. The other day The Man was talking about how he wants to get a smart watch - you know, a watch that works with your phone so you don't actually have to pull out your phone when you want to do stuff - and his example was as follows:
"You know, because I was listening to music the other day and it was really inconvenient that I had to pull my phone out of my pocket to change the song."
This was legitimately the sentence that came out of his mouth. Tell that to someone from 1992, Man.
7. AXE Shower Detailer - Okay, so I don't know where this came from because I'm pretty sure we didn't buy it since it's not anything I'd ever buy and The Man does exactly zero percent of the purchasing for our household. It probably came free with some body wash or something. But I love this thing. It's got a normal puff side and a scratchy exfoliating side and when I'm done using it I'm fairly sure there is no funk on me anywhere. I sort of wish they sold one attached to a stick. I will never not have one of these things again.
8. Back Scratcher - Remember when you could scratch your own back? Remember those days? You'd look at older people who used a back scratcher and think "Really old man? Why not just reach back there and scratch it with your hands like a civilized person?" Yeah, I remember those days. Now I love my back scratcher so very much. Because I can't think of much that sucks worse than having an itchy back in that spot that you just can't reach. The Man and I both have one at our desks and those suckers get used often. In fact, I think I'm going to pause for a little scratch right now.
9. Thirty One Bags - Okay so at some point a couple of years ago one of my besties invited us over for a Thirty One Bag party. I had no idea what a Thirty One Bag was but my BFF Trish was about to have her 2nd baby so I bought a little set for her to use as a diaper bag. The next thing I knew, another bestie became a Thirty One consultant and before I knew it Thirty One bags were flying all over the place. I started getting one here and one there and after a little while The Man stopped asking where all the bags were coming from. I use one as a purse, I use them to organize my bathroom, I use them in the car. I have cooler bags and bags to carry casseroles and thermal pouches that will hold a sandwich and a juice box in my purse. Munchkin uses one to cart her stuff to sleepovers and another one to cart her stuff to the barn and Goober's getting a new one to cart his stuff around Washington D.C. in a couple of weeks on his patrol trip. I almost feel like a traitor if I use any type of bag that isn't a Thirty One Bag.
10. Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwiches - When I was pregnant with Goober I developed a weird affinity for PB&J. It was even before I discovered that I was with child that I found myself having at least one, often two, a day. Throughout my entire pregnancy I ate a PB&J every morning for breakfast and to this day I often make one for breakfast. I could eat a PB&J for every meal of the day (and probably have before) and be perfectly content. Probably severely deficient in some nutrients, but happy. There's just so many ways to have a PB&J and they're all good. A thousand different jams you could pick (because I actually don't ever use jelly, only jam or preserves, NEVER JELLY), or you could mix it up and put honey in there instead of jam. You can use soft white bread or nutty brown bread. Crunchy peanut butter or creamy smooth peanut butter. It's an amazing sandwich. I bet you kinda want one right now. I'm going to go make myself one just as soon as I stop scratching my back.