I always knew I was a loser...

It's hard to post on this topic without knocking on wood. See here's the deal, my child for the most part is an awesome sleeper. And she is NOT an early riser. Seriously the child easily sleeps til 8:30 - 9:45am each morning. I've never been woken up by her before the sun had awoke - like ever. I am eternally grateful for this. Swear.
This being said, I will say that bedtimes haven't ever been particularly easy. She's definitely not one to have a book read to her and drift off into dreamland. She always wants to be apart of whatever activity I'm doing at nighttime. Also Ive always had to be the parent to put her to bed since her daddy has always worked nights since she was born. And I'm somewhat of a pushover. I hate confrontation so I'm guilty of letting her stay up later than most 3 year olds and even worse (gasp!) I let her sleep in my bed. I've finally decided that a) since she's about to start preschool in a few short months and b) she has a perfectly nice bed in her own room five feet from my room and c)she's almost 4 - it's about time for her to start sleeping in her own room. In theory this sounds great. Granted we are only on about night 4 or 5 (and my mom is coming tomorrow and will be taking Kendall's bed so Kendall will be back in bed with me for the long weekend), but things aren't exactly smooth sailing.
I'm trying to establish routine. Read a few books, put in a short movie, sing a few songs, snuggle for a minute, hugs and kisses and I'm outta there. While all that is fine and well, it doesn't prevent her from getting out of her bed about 80 times before I finally threaten extensive bodily harm (just threaten, not follow through - cut me some slack).
The following is our last conversation before she finally fell asleep (about 90 minutes from when she was initially put in bed).
"Kendall, GO get in BED!!!" I said.
She prances/stumps/huffs and puffs over to me on the couch, puts one hand on her hip, cocks her head and replies "No, Mommy you aren't getting a chance to win this game tonight!"

Kendall, 12,466 - Mommy, 0. Yep, I'm officially a loser.

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"I used to think...."

Creative Writing Prompt: Write for 10 minutes using "I used to think..." as an opening sentence.

I used to think....that all I wanted to be in life was a mom of at least 4 or 5 kids. Now I realize that it is by far the hardest job I have or will ever have. Yes it has joys, but it also has pitfalls. My daughter is only 3 and 1/2 and I've already heard "I Hate you Mommy" more times than I can count. I've also hear a million more "I love you so much Mommy". However, after having Kendall I've realized that perhaps one is enough for me. I have my mini-me, my shopping partner, my travel buddy, my river or beach bunny, my snuggle-icious partner, etc. Plus once you've hit perfection = why try again?

I used to think.....everything involving the Gators was teribble. Now I've realized that I just hate the Gator football team and their crazy mullet having cutoff jean shorts wearing bandwagon GED-less fans.

I used to think....people who didn't shave their armpits were weird. Now one of my best friends has hairy armpits and she rocks. She's taught me by far more about life, love, and good health than any of my other friends.

I used to think...that one day I would run for office. Now I think I'm too smart for that and there are a multitude of other ways that I can have a positive change on my community without being an elected official.

I used to think...I'd never own a cat. After having a rat take residence in my garage I think I'm ready to be a cat person.

I used to think...people who didn't give their kids antibiotics were nuts...now I'm one of those people.

I used to think...my mom was mean...now she's one of my good friends.

I used to think...I couldn't survive a day without my curling iron. Now I'm lucky to have one good hair day a week.

I used to think...10 minutes was a lot longer than it was!

I'll try anything once...

So since I've started blogging I've realized that I love to write. Finding the time, well that's a different story. And while I could just sit here and write about my day and share cute Kendall stories - that won't really stretch my writing prowess. So I'm thinking about giving a go at some writing prompts. I hope you'll bear with me, give positive feedback or snide remarks. Whatever's fitting. Who knows maybe you'll even enjoy it.

Seriously, these people rock.

Growing up in a small town had it's share of pros and cons. Obviously, everyone knows everyone. Which in itself is a pro and con. It's nice to know everyone, to walk in the grocery store and see familiar places. On the other hand everyone typically knows your business and well that's probably another topic for another day. However in a town where everyone knows everyone, when tragedy strikes - chances are a large amount of people you know will be affected. Unfortunately tragedy struck our small town again recently. We lost yet another friend way before his time. (And it also made me realize this was the 8th friend we had lost since 1995 - seems unreal right?)

The silver lining within any tragedy is the power they have in reuniting people. People who you maybe haven't seen in almost a decade or maybe people who you had a falling out with. And death puts life into perspective. None of the meaningless petty stuff really matters when death is starring you in the face. And while losing Will Bleakley was a horriffic cruel event we were all forced to cope with, it was wonderful to all be reunited. To be together. Again.

You know what I realized. My friends rock. Seriously, the are the best. This is only a small fraction of them but being able to see a vast majority of them and pick back up right where things were left off years and years ago was bittersweet, yet wonderful. And that's why today I love being from a small town. I know when shit hits the fan, when push comes to shove, and any other cliche you can think off happens - I've got an amazing support network. And it's the greatest thing in the world.

It can never be that bad...

No matter what happens in my day. I get to come home to this butt. No matter how grown up she's acting, how much attitude she's giving me, she still has this butt. This little chunky, squishy, ba-donka-donk. No matter what is wrong in the world, I can look at this butt and crack a smile.