frump-y 1. A girl or woman regarded as dull, plain, or unfashionable 2. A stay-at-home mom who, amid the joys of raising children,
has lost all sense of style and/or fashion
I'm a wife to one and mother of seven. I write, I craft and, sometimes, I clean. I'm a recovering diet-Coke-aholic, an occasional exerciser and a wanna-be health nut. When I grow up, I hope to be a published author.
Here's a few tips on how to successfully celebrate your birthday when you get to be old like me.
Start celebrating the day before your birthday. Spend the night in a hotel with your sweetie. No kids, no phones, no cooking dinner, no kids, no laundry, no housework, no kids. Sit in a hot tub a couple of times. Stay up very late writing because you know you can sleep in. Eat fattening food, don't worry about it because you're 44 now, been married forever and he still loves and desires you, so, who cares? Sleep in. Let the hotel make you breakfast. Go home to the kids and have them all say, "Happy Birthday, Mommy." (yes, I have teenagers and, yes, they call me mommy) Ignore the fact that you have kids and a household to run. Lay around all day, watching TV, playing on computer and don't do any housework. Take a nap. Go to the General Relief Society Meeting with your mom and sisters. Be sneaky and eat pie and goodies with older sister while mom and younger sister wait for t…
Today I started a new chapter in my life. It's called,
Your Mom Goes to College
As my first day at Weber State ended, I realized there are a few things that might happen if you return to school after twent--mffshh *ahem* a lot of years.
If your mom goes to college she might assume that buying a parking pass means she'll just arrive and find a place to park. When she spends 35 minutes trying to find a parking spot, she might start swearing. A lot. She also might almost hit another car. And then, when she realizes she's already late for class she might just park illegally on a residential street screaming "Screw it! Give me a ticket!" and then run to class.
She might arrive at her first class ten minutes late. Arriving late might give her anxiety*. Then she might spend the next hour trying to pay attention to the teacher while also wondering how much her parking ticket will cost.
If your mom goes to college she might search through the crowds trying to find some…
"And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet, and the wind longs to play with your hair." -Kahlil Gibran I do not have a foot fetish, contrary to what this blog may suggest. I do, however, like my feet. They are truly marvelous creatures. I don't remember learning to walk, but I'm pretty sure I did it. I remember when running was enjoyable (when I was 8). That complete abandon you feel when you plummet down a hill, arms wide. Not possible without feet. In high school, I tried out for drill team and was introduced to the beauty and wonder of dance. I danced in college, both on a team and in ballroom classes. I ate it up, couldn't get enough. Jumping, twirling, floating across the floor. John Dryden said "Dancing is the poetry of the foot." My feet were authors of great poetry. I haven't danced in a very long time, but in the back of my mind there's always the hope that someday I will again. My feet miss it. They've been bus…