LoVe

I love a good love story.
But then, I write chick-lit.
When you talk to a chick-lit writer... the subject of love is probably going to come up. If you don't like reading a good love story, don't read chick-lit. If you don't want the subject of love to ever come up in your life, go to counseling.... really, go, you'll be happier when there is a little more love in your life.

February is a fun month.
Some people hate it. They hate Valentines Day, they hate gooey lovey dovey-ness.

Stop the hate people.

Even if you aren't "in-love", I sure as heck hope there is love in your life! I hope you have family and friends that you LOVE and can show love to. Again... broken record here, but you will be happier.

February doesn't need to be about expensive gifts or boxes of chocolate... although, let's face it, chocolate makes life sweet... and happy... and delicious. Grab some on Feb 15--when it's 75% off. :)

Anyway...
The month of love, like the month of Thanksgiving, or the month of Christ's birth can be fun, special, more.

So, love your spouse... love your children... love your parents... love your siblings... love your grandparents... love your aunts and uncles and cousins... love your friends, just love.

 

Be unselfish. Be kind. Be patient. Love.

 

For a church activity I helped come up with a month of things to do to show love to others. And though a few are for specifically your spouse, several are things you could do for anyone you love. I thought I would share this and see if others would take the challenge to LOVE this month with me!

 

I pulled these ideas from a few different websites on Pinterest. Then I made up this calendar on Photoshop. Feel free to copy, paste, share, whatever.

Again, aside from maybe Days... 5, 11, for sure 19, DEFINITELY 24 you should be able to do these acts of love with almost anyone. :)

Happy Valentines, friends!



Proms gone Wrong--> Yep mine. It must be: more than you wanted to know about Jen day.

I'm not sure what it is about this blog that posses me to embarrass myself, but here ya go:

For some girls Prom is the high light of their High School years.

Most girls hope and wish to go to an oober dreamy prom.

Some don't care either way--> the smart ones.

Prom is dandy, don't get me wrong.

But I'm sort of partial to the group date, not so serious kind of Prom. Or the who cares we weren't asked, let's have a girls night, night.

I did go to Prom.

Twice.

And neither were all that.

In fact one was even kind of scary.

Scary Gary.

That wasn't my Prom dates name, just something we say at this house.

Scary.

Gary.

Prom #1

The scariest thing about this Prom was me.

Yikes.

My dress.

My hair.

My nails.

I had this thing on my neck... I don't know what it's called, maybe a scary gary band. I don't know. But it wasn't pretty. Even for the 90's. And then my hair. I went to the salon and paid good money to have a scary gary hair-do. I hated it. Seriously. Hated. And the ladies at the Salon insisted that bright-red-not-Jen-at-all nails would be perfect. 

My date on the other hand- super nice friend of mine. We went with another couple...

So, it could have been great... had I gone as myself rather than scary gary girl.

Prom #2

This is the scary one.

Pretty much all of it.

And here we go:

1. I went with a boy who liked me, it was just the two of us, all day and all night--which made the day/night more awkward than friendly and fun.

2. Because my last prom dress was so blah. I had my talented mom make my dress. I didn't realize the pattern we picked had a large chunk cut out in the back. Let's add a little more awkwardness to this night. I was horribly self-conscience and feeling immodest most of the night. Especially when the skinny section at the top that latched the dress together came UNLATCHED. And he had a to clip it closed for me. Scary. Gary.

3. When my date went on and on and on and on and on about how stinking expensive corsages are.

Yes, those were all scary gary moments, but I think the best/worst was when:

4. My date picked up a hitch hiker who looked what I imagine a clothed cave man might look like.

Scary. Gary.

And then of course the picture. 

Yikes.

Here's the moral to my story. 

I think as lousy as prom(s) ended up being for me they also taught me a great lesson.

The importance of being yourself.

There were so many things about my Proms that were sooo not me. And I'm guessing they would have been way more fun with a few more friends and a whole lot more me.

Love your Muffin Top

Living without the guilt. 

Without the self-loathing.

 It's gotta be a good place--right? 
It's where I want to live. 
Do I want to be healthy? 
Absolutely. 
Do I want to fit back into my skinny jeans? 
You better believe it.
But I also don't want guilt every time I eat a slice of pizza or a chocolate truffle.
And most of all I do not want my baby girl looking at herself in the mirror asking if she's thin enough. Good enough.
And I know, if I do it, she will too.
So, here's my goal, right now, right here. 
Live.
Love.
Try.
No guilt.
No self-destruction.
It's not worth it.

And because I'm trying to turn over a new self-loving leaf, here's a picture of my own muffin top. Oh! And of course my favorite scene from Eat Pray Love. Watch it!

A Week in the Life...

Right after my mom died I had to look for things to do--to stay busy... if I wasn't busy, I was crying. 

Sometimes I was busy and crying, but still somehow the busyness helped. 

It's was the cleanest my house has EVER been!

Anyway, my friend Samantha told me about this:

 "A week in your life" idea. 

It was one of the ways I kept myself busy!

For one week you take pictures of your everyday life. Sometimes we take pictures of birthdays and Christmas and forget the everyday important stuff. 

I am not suggesting that for the rest of your life you take a gazillion pictures of dishes and laundry. 

That would be exhausting and let's face it--ridiculous.

But for one week--I AM. 

Because to journal about your everyday life and have a photo journal to back it up can be kind of amazing.

For your kids to be able to look back and remember that you drove them to soccer practice--EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

That you were the one helping them with homework or saying yes go build that blanket fort in my nice living room. 

Those every day things add up to a lot. 

And sometimes as parents--as people we forget that. And we forget how awesome we really are because of them. :)

So this is my challenge--

RECORD A WEEK IN YOUR LIFE!

On FB, on your blog, through regular ol' school scrapbooking. 

But record it somewhere! 

You can take one picture a day or you can take ten. It's whatever you want. But the key is to keep it real. Don't go crazy with kid activities if that isn't what you normally do.

This is your life. Your real, everyday life.

And I'm hoping I'll get to see a few of your weeks!

Who's with me? :)

I'm going to start Sunday June 29, 2014. 

being the best YOU is soooooo much better than being a mediocre version of somebody else...

Does anyone else remember the first "total makeover" show? Or... one of the first. It was crazy and kind of cruel. It didn't last long. It wasn't about losing weight and getting someone into shape. It wasn't about taking a skill and learning and perfecting. 

Being a better you.

It was about losing yourself completely.

Really homely looking women would have so much plastic surgery (I cannot even imagine the pain) until they were pretty... as well as COMPLETELY unrecognizable to anyone who knew them.

Nothing about them was the same, not even their teeth, well maybe their height.

I think that's why it didn't last long. I think those women missed seeing their old selves, even if they considered themselves ugly. They didn't even recognize themselves. And that's weird... and sad.

Every single person has beauty.

Inside and outside.

It's fact.

I don't lie. 

Ask my husband... I suck at it.

It's what we do with what we've got that matters. Learning new skills, trying out new things, practicing and perfecting the goods we've got--all helps that inner and outer beauty.

Trying to act like the girl down the street who seems to have it all never worked for anyone.

Even if you somewhat succeed, can you really be happy being a mediocre version of somebody else?

Growing up this was one of my favorite stories-->

All my life I didn't want to be me. I wanted to be like Harriet Wimpleton. So I walked like Harriet Wimpleton and I talked like Harriet Wimpleton. And then one day I noticed a strange thing, Harriet Wimpleton wanted to be like Connie Saverson. She walked like Connie Saverson, she talked like Connie Saverson. And Connie Saverson was walking and talking like Donna Heberson. And so here I was walking and talking like Harriet Wimpleton's version of Connie Saverson acting like Donna Heberson, and guess who Donna Heberson was imitating, that pesky kid Wanda Droolson who walks and talks like me. 

Author Unknown

Just about the most ridiculous way to pop out a rib...

I've gotten pretty good at hurting myself in comical, bizarre ways.

This past week has been some-what of a doozy.

Saturday after saving two infant otters from drowning I was accosted by a brown bear...

Okay, that's what I thought of telling people...

Actually, Saturday I held my hands above my head and braided two rows down my head. {Yes braiding my hair.} I felt a sharp pain and was abnormally uncomfortable--but I kept going. As the day went on the pain just got worse and worse. And by Monday I thought I'd morphed into someone else's body. I couldn't imagine where this crazy pain was coming from.

By one o' clock I was in the Doctor's office, courtesy of being a Doctor's wife's friend. :)

Long story-short, I had a pinched a nerve in my neck and popped a rib out of place.

Ouch.

I came home attempted to be some-what of a mom and went outside with my 2 year old, Little Miss.

There I turned... not sharply, not strangely, just wrong. And my knee cap dislocated. So, rib out, neck pinched and I went down to the ground--hard.

Double-Ouch.

Needless to say I fell apart--body and emotions.

{my poor children!}

But really this post isn't about having all of you say:

O you poor thing.

{Thank you in advance-btw.}

But more to say- Listen to you body!

That first braid did not feel right and yet I kept going. I could have saved myself a whole lot of grief if only I'd listened to myself!

Our bodies are amazing, they can do and recover from so much. But that doesn't mean we should abuse them.

Love your body! It's the only one you've got!