Three words: Brazilian Butt Lift

Plastic surgery? No. Painful beyond belief? Absolutely. I have been doing this workout for about three weeks now and every second is pure Latino torture. I wish it was plastic surgery.

I stepped onto a scale at my mom's house yesterday (I don't own scales because I believe they're reserved only for masochists) because the "model body" I was promised doesn't quite seem to be materializing. As I looked down at the scale the little hand settled on a very disappointing number. A number higher than I beleived it to be before I began my excruciating butt lift. Yes, muscle weighs more than fat, but really? Higher?

Between you and me, The Hubs did say and I quote, "Grabbing your butt is a whole new experience." Mmkay. So that should be motivation enough, right? Wrong. I want to SEE results. I need instant gratification people! After a workout that makes me wish I was dead, I had better look like the girl on the front of the cover! Is that too much to ask?

Honestly, some of the workouts are actually kind of fun. It's a mixture of Zumba and your worst nightmare, if your nightmares consist of squats and lunges, which mine now do.

But I will "keep pushing play" as Leandro instructs me to do and I will let you know how it goes. At least if I die between a lunge and a squat, it will be a pleasant experience for the paramedic or doctor who for any reason may have to grab my butt.

A mother is me.

Yesterday I woke up feeling anxious to get to church. I didn't want to miss the Mother's Day songs and talks I so needed to hear. I was out of bed even before The Hubs and that is rare. I'm usually the one begging, '10 more minutes please!'

Once we got there I knew why. It wasn't just the talks and music I wanted to hear, but the feelings God needed me to have. One of my friends was speaking about moms. My first thought was how crappy it was that she had to speak on Mother's Day. It's supposed to be her day off, I thought. But how glad I am that she consented to speak because her words were inspired. I was meant to hear those words as I'm sure were many others in the congregation.

She spoke about women who struggle with having children and how all of us, even those who don't have any children are still mothers to someone. We all deserve to be celebrated, she said, because of the nurturing qualities we were born with regardless of our situation.

It wasn't her exact words that stood out to me, but the feelings and emotions they evoked inside of me. I cried the entire way through her talk not out of pity for myself, but because I know God is aware of me. I had a very strong sense of peace and self-assurance.

The Hubberton is very thoughtful and gave me a little something to give me comfort.


It reads "Eventually." Does it give you chills? Because it gave me chills when I opened it.

And the little boy who makes this mama's life more special than she ever imagined.


Happy Mother's Day!!

John Q.

So, I'm about a decade late, but I haven't been moved this much by a movie in a long time. I suspect nine or 10 years ago I wouldn't have had the emotions I do now about a little boy who needs a heart transplant and a mom and dad who will do whatever it takes to make that happen. But today I am moved.

After the movie, I of course had to go into Boo's room and stare at him sleeping for awhile. I had to feel his chest rise and fall, breathe in his sweet, warm breath and touch my face to his. I whispered, "You are so wonderful to me." As he sleepily rolled over he whispered his reply, "I know, Mommy, I know." A feeling resonated, "I am the luckiest person in the world."

It's beautiful, the intense feelings we have as parents. We would do anything for our children. Their protection and well-being remains in the forefront of our minds always. We know having children is a risk. The kind of risk that in tragedy can break you. But, the reward: a sleepy little boy with warm, sweet breath and soft skin, rolling over in his bed, who knows he is the most wonderful thing in the world to his mommy. And that is worth every heartache. It is priceless.

Now go watch John Q. if you haven't seen it. After a few days, you'll thank me. It'll stick with you for awhile.

Inspiring Images

This morning I watched large, fluffy snowflakes fall in slow motion across my living room window. They didn't last long on the wet ground, but fell slow and peaceful enough to create a picturesque winter wonderland.

A perfectly lovely Monday morning.

No summer is complete without a rodeo

Awe, the nostalgia of it all....

The smell of dirt, horse manure, cigarette smoke and popcorn and the sound of clanking cowboy boots, hooves against the soft dirt and the over abundance of "Yeeha's," and spitting. You just can't beat it.

I grew up gracing such events always intrigued by the "cowboy culture" complete with glitter, bedazzled and embellished belts, tight, jeans, big hair, sparkle, fringe, plaid, tank tops, big hats, denim and leather. It's a culture one and of its own, not influenced by the outside world, of the norms by which the rest of us must live. It is a culture of forgotten chivalry, tough men who really are tough, beautiful women who are also tough and can beat up any guy we know and babies that are completely comfortable straddling an animal 100 times bigger and stronger than they.

I have always loved horses. Their big, beautiful, kind eyes and statuesque, strong bodies. My intrigue of cowboys and their culture may have a lot to do with the chemistry and ease of the relationship with a cowboy and his horse. A light tap of the boot and the horse knows exactly what to do. A cowboy's horse seems to know his thoughts and together they are one. It's kind of a beautiful relationship to me. Watching someone riding a horse who knows what they are doing and is completely at ease gives me a surge of envy and excitement. I feel like I was made to do that! Next time you see me, I might just be on a horse clad in fringe and leather.
Really, I love it and I don't mean to make fun.

I grew up around cowboys and was friends with quite a few. So I have a pretty good radar for authentic cowboys. The ones who rode horses and often. Who have a few scars from being thrown from one or two wild ones or know how to make it turn a barrel with a tap of a boot. Even at a young age I envied this lifestyle. Many of my friends had horses and could spit and cuss with the best of 'em.

My keen sense of authentic vs wannabe tells me that my Boo has a little bit of cowboy in him already. He's pretty darn authentic, already bull-legged and cowboy butt clad. He's my handsome little cowboy that I have always dreamed about.

Although he said that the cowboys falling off the horses made him sad. That might not be the cowboy spirit, but I'll keep it. So revision: He's my SENSITIVE, handsome little cowboy I've always dreamed about. Even better.





A kiss from a little cowboy to a big one. Grandpa.







My parents bought all the grand kids cowboy hats after the rodeo. They're pretty lucky to have such fun grandparents.

My Dad

It's not very often that I express the love I feel for my dad, or any of the people who are important and dear to me. It's something I think about often. When I love someone, I love them intensely, with all of myself. And sometimes when I think about the special people in my life, I feel overcome.

I often feel inspiration to tell them how I feel and why they are so important to me. But more often than not, I become too busy or preoccupied and fail to act on my inspiration.

I often think about how supportive my husband is of every single decision I have made since we have gotten married.

I see how hard my mom works and that she needs to know how much I admire her.
I notice that my sister Cristy is always thinking about others, building them up and trying to find the best in them.

I'll think about my sister Jamie and how dedicated to motherhood she is.
I am touched by the warmth of my mother-in-law and how eager she is to make me feel loved and at home.

I love the way my father-in-law is protective over me and takes care of me and how when I leave their house I always feel loved.

These thoughts need to be spoken, so why aren't they? To me it is a tragedy if one's thoughts and feelings are never manifested. So today I wanted to write about someone, whom I have the opportunity to love and adore. My dad. His generosity and sincerity is like no one else I know. His heart is big which makes room for so much understanding and tolerance for others.

My dad has always been my biggest fan. Being surrounded by women all his life, he has learned how to make them feel special which isn't always a simple task.

My dad and I share many of the same qualities and interests. For instance, he has always taken a keen interest in photography and I value his opinion greatly. His dream was to be a photographer for National Geographic magazine. Well that's not the most realistic aspiration for a family man, so he was contented with photography as a hobby. But you see, my dad is a "hobby collector." With a wife, three dramatic daughters and a son that requires around-the-clock attention, he had to let go of something.

When I approached him with an interest in photography he was excited. He was the first person I showed my first "real" photo shoot and he spent all day looking at my very amateur and probably pretty horrible pictures, but couldn't stop talking about how talented I was. "You have a gift," he said. "It might be a burden, because it's not something you can turn your back on. It's a calling." Those are words I won't ever forget. And when I am down on myself, comparing my work to incredible photographers and ready to give up, I won't. Because I'll remember those words. He gave me the confidence to pursue my dream.

Today, with a little more experience and much more confidence under my belt, I still show my dad my work when I need a little pick-me-up, because I know he will love them. I know that he won't just say the words, but will sincerely love them.

Today as I was putting some pictures on my photo blog of a wedding I recently shot, I was feeling a little nervous about them. I wanted them to be great, but wasn't sure. I asked my dad to look at them and tell me what he really thought. I know he's my dad and of course he's biased, but he also has an eye for it, and I wanted his professional opinion.

I hear him chuckle from the other room, so I stop what I am doing and go look. He is looking at my website and his eyes are red and watery. He looks up at me and says, "You are just so good." I have never received such a sincere compliment. "Some of these pictures are heart-wrenching. I'm sobbing like a baby!" he said with an embarrassed laugh. "And your writing! Your writing is so funny! I could look at these all day. Now get outta' here." And he continued looking at my photos.

I heard him clear his throat a couple more times. I hope everyone has a chance to get a pat on the back with such sincerity. Yes, he's my dad, but he really meant what he said and I could tell.

That's the kind of mom I want to be to Boo. I don't want him to ever doubt that I am proud of him. I think we forget that words really do mean a lot. Whomever came up with the saying "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me," was totally off. Sometimes words can mean the most.

So go and tell someone you love how you feel about them. It may just mean the world to them at that very moment.