Tag Archives: Funny

I’m a Gray-Haired, Crazy Old Lady


Or Little Old Woman, as my great-uncle, Bud, likes to call me. Not even just because I’m “old-fashioned” in a lot of my beliefs. I literally have gray hair. And I also need a little bit of sanity. Just a pinch. Not that much. (If a pinch was the equivalent of a ton.)

I sit here typing this to you as my son makes a trip up and down this strip from our living room to the dining table, pushing his Batmobile and humming a somewhat-engine-like-but-not-really noise. Oh, looky there. His Jake and the Neverland Pirates boat just joined in the fun. I think I like that boat a lot better, it’s so much quieter.

Our dog, Taco, was getting into things he wasn’t supposed to mess with. You can tell that by how he keeps circling around right by my leg trying to get me to pet him. The cat, Max, is just sitting on the table, looking down on us petty mortals. Aaaaaaaaaand the cat is asleep. ‘Cause he doesn’t do that every hour of the day.

Batman is playing on the T.V. Again. Even though my son isn’t watching it I can guarantee you that he would notice the millisecond I turned it off.

As I sat here thinking to myself, since my husband is away for training again, I realized that I’m such an old fart. I think mostly about recipes and cooking during the day, I think of all the stuff I have to clean, I get onto whichever  person or animal is doing a no-no, and I get overly excited about dreaming of household appliances that would just be so awesome to have.

Whelp, good thing I have the crazy in me to help balance me out. You know, the part of me that loves to watch Looney Tunes (I’m so sick of all the “everybody’s a winner” crap T.V. shows), who eats chocolate because it tastes yummy (don’t tell my cardiologist……or my husband for that matter), who gets more excited than her kid to play football, who sings just about all day (I have an awful voice and I don’t care), and who also makes some very funny (and sanity questioning) sounds to make the day not be so dull. Yes, I am that lady that makes chicken noises walking in the mall to get her toddler excited about eating some chicken. I can totally see why my husband loves me so much. I’m awesome.

Maybe it’s not that I need to cling to my sanity so much, but that I should just let the crazy be. Ultimately, I think that will actually help keep me sane 😉



My Son, the Boy


I thought my days of getting my fingers beaten to a pulp while playing swords was over. No, because I have a boy that is definitely a boy. Where did my son come up with playing swords? Honesty, I’m not sure. I think it’s one of those things that are ingrained in virtually every boy, such as liking trains and trucks (which is a story for another time).

I remember the days of playing swords with my brother…who didn’t show that much mercy to my fingers (thanks, bro). Below is a picture of what my son and I used to play swords this morning:

photo (3)

You had best believe that I took the actual sword. Don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t whacking at my son’s fingers. He was whacking at mine! Somehow, just like his uncle, he still managed to hit my fingers despite my best attempt at shielding them. Of course.

Le sigh. I have another decade at least of that happening to me. Hmm, I think I may invest in a pair of padded gloves. Yeah, some padded gloves….and a face mask. Go to my happy place.


Allergic to Gravity


Allergic to gravity – it’s one of the simplest ways that I can explain my type of Dysautonomia. Yep, I still have it. It’s still there like acne for me, it just won’t go away. Isn’t that nice? Well, I decided to write a list of some funny things about this illness. So, here you go.

  1. We are allergic to gravity. Seriously. Gravity hates us. It just pulls us down.
  2. We can salt it up, dudes. Yep, the more salt the better. Yet McDonald’s never seem to get that I’m serious when I ask for the salt packets. It wouldn’t be so bad if they actually salted their fries. That’s why I get the food in the first place. (I mean, c’mon. Is it really so hard to get salty french fries when I pay for them? These people.)
  3. We’re so talented we can wake up with a hangover without even drinking. It’s awesome opossum.
  4. We’re so lazy that we can fall down on the floor as soon as we get out of bed. Sleep is a priority after all. Who needs life when you can just lay on the ground?
  5. We can’t really go on roller coasters, but we at least get the sensation in the car. Say what?
  6. We usually get to have so many other medical problems with Dysautonomia. The more the merrier, right?
  7. We’re running a marathon inside our bodies all the time without the added benefits of actually running a marathon. It’s so great.
  8. We drink so much water that we might as well be mermaids….just hopefully a bit more clothed.
  9. We take so much medicine we should at least all be honorary pharmacy technicians. I’m just sayin’.
  10. We have to go through so many procedures and med trials and side effects that we should have our own comedy show. I know I get even more goofy with certain things. And dizzy. Really dizzy. Hey! How did that wall get there?
  11. Automated blood pressure machines have nothing on us. Our vitals change so quickly and are so odd that the machines won’t register them. Now that’s talent.

What other things can you think of to go on this list, my fellow heartbeaters?

What I Love About Yoga


I began doing yoga towards the end of January. If you had asked me a year ago what I thought about yoga, I would have told you that I thought it was just a bunch of people doing silly stretches. I even used to make fun of my brother for doing yoga (sorry, bro). I’m eating my words. Honestly, I would probably not be in such a centered state if it wasn’t for yoga. Yoga has helped me in so many ways. Listed below are some things about yoga that I love.

  • It really is a workout. No, seriously. I’m getting back into shape from it. Awesome stuff, man. My POTS is pretty cool with it, too.
  • It’s helped me to let go of a lot of things, such as: my constant thoughts of what people would think of me while I’m doing these odd stretches or how I must look so weird. Who cares? It’s yoga. Don’t lose your sanity over speculating what people may be saying or thinking about you.
  • Even though I get to stare at my ugly feet a lot, them being ugly doesn’t bother me anymore. I love my hobbit feet (well, they’re not that hairy).
  • You don’t have to own a pair of yoga pants to do yoga. Thank goodness. I have never done a single yoga practice in yoga attire. However, the one pair of those pants I do own are like sweatpants to me. You best believe I rock them sweatpants. But at home. Not outside, at home. Not as every day wear, but as I-don’t-give-a-crap-I’m-just-sitting-on-my-couch wear.
  • There’s no judging in yoga. So your crow pose isn’t pretty. At least you can rock that savasana. You go, girl. Go ahead and fall asleep while you relax that awesome body of yours.
  • There’s no competition. There’s no pressure to feel like you have to do certain things. You go as far as you want to go. End of story.
  • You let go of fear. Whatever your fear may be, you can conquer it. I’m just happy I can do a headstand now. I was always afraid of breaking my neck. But look at me, with my neck not broken and stuff.
  • You learn how to center/ground yourself. It helps a lot with anxiety. True story.
  • You have to relax. For someone like me, that’s tough. “You mean I just have to lay here and basically go to sleep?” Man, I love that savasana. It’s my favorite.
  • One of my favorite yoga instructors (Kathryn Budig) says that if you’re not smiling, then you’re taking it too seriously. Sure, I would like to just hit her with a foamy baseball bat when I’m trying to do some of those poses like alternately lifting up each leg in dolphin pose and upward bow pose, but she’s right. (Insert mumbling about how I’d like to find a foam bat here.)
  • Yoga is really for anyone. Of course, you always need to clear it with your doc before you start anything. However, here I am with several autoimmune diseases and disorders, but I can do yoga. I can’t do yoga every day, but I do it when I can. It’s important to keep moving forward no matter the struggle.
  • Here’s a TMI part (you’ve been warned): I can poop. Yoga helps me poop. I have tried everything you can think of to go, but nothing ever worked-even at my healthiest. But yoga can take care of you so well in that aspect. That tension is gone, dude. Relief is a wonderful thing.

Here is a picture of me doing crow pose when I was just starting to be able to do it a little over a month ago:


What do you love about yoga?

You Know You Have a Toddler if….


You know you have a toddler if…

  • You came to the realization that you will never “catch up on sleep”


  • It’s not only normal but an every day, several times a day occurrence to tell him to quit digging in his diaper (nasty).
  • You’re so tired of telling your child he can’t play with something or can’t do something that you seriously wonder why you even bother talking in the first place.


  • You don’t worry about him being a bother in worship services, you know he is and you might as well accept it. He’s two, it’s gonna be a little while before he sits quietly for an hour – unless he’s watching one of the Rugrats movies.
  • There is a temper tantrum every time he can’t go on the “ride” at Wal-Mart because he acted up the entire time you were in the store grocery shopping. (Stay strong!)
  • He likes something, such as trucks, you will know. Oh how you will know.
  • He tests you repeatedly. For instance, I’ll say to not kick the dog and he’ll lightly tap him with his foot. I don’t know whether to laugh at his sassy behind or to put him in timeout. Usually it ends up with a timeout….with me secretly laughing at his sass.


  • That whole affirmation about how your child is only going to eat organic, no fast food, no sweets, etc. went out the window and into the ditch. You’re just happy when he eats something period.


  • You know how to do yoga with a toddler climbing all over you. Hey, at least it builds strength.
  • That whole thing about no T.V. went into the ditch along with the food ideology.
  • You’re happy you’re in bed before midnight. Not asleep, just in bed. (There are things to do when the kid goes to sleep.)


  • You love when he wants to rock so you can snuggle a little bit. It really is awesome. I’ll take what I can get.


  • You try to divert his attention by saying, “Hey, look! A truck,” when he wants to go outside and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.
  • He’s trying to help you type as you try to write this blog and he thinks it’s hilarious.


  • You’re kid is afraid of the potty when like all of your friends with toddler girls are pretty much potty trained. Yes, he’s afraid of the potty. We have had our issues potty training, to say the least.


  • He lets you know he has a booboo…when it’s pretty much all healed up. It’s not that cute after hearing about it the millionth time, hon.


  • You can’t really too mad when he eats your doughnut, because at least he’s eating something, right? Right? Dude, that’s Mommy’s doughnut!
  • Certain annoying toys disappear into the great beyond…
  • Even the dogs look at you like, “C’mon, control your kid.”


How do you know you have a toddler?

Morning Routine #2 – Toddler Adventures


If you’ve been following a while, then you know one of my first posts was about my son’s morning routine. Well, tonight I bring you the toddler addition. (Since he’s two years old now, I’m thinking this is overdue.) Anyways, here it goes.


First off, I’m lucky if I wake up before Bug (my new pet name for him). No matter when this kid falls asleep, which is another post all on its own, Bug still wakes up with the sun. Why? Doesn’t this kid know that sleeping in is awesome? Alas, he does not. Yet. Some day….Anyways, he comes into my room and comes up straight to my face. Sometimes I am prepared for this, other times I almost whack him in the face. His signal for me to get up is to move my covers, attempt to give me my glasses (because I can’t be alive without them evidently), hands me the PS3 controller to turn on Netflix, and yells at me to get milk or juice. He enunciates, “Milk,” very well, but the word juice is pronounced, “Jew,” for now. (It can get awkward in public.)

Once I finally wake up enough to know that I exist and have this creature that wants me to feed him for some reason, the fight for breakfast will commence. You see, the fight for breakfast is very much just trying to agree on something he’ll eat that isn’t candy. He knows what candy is now. Oh, how he knows. Bug likes to eat things he can carry around with him, but gets bored with those foods very quickly. No matter what he gets to eat, one or both of my parents’ dogs will devour most of it. (Remember we’re living here with my parents while hubby is gone.) Before that even happens, Bug will offer a piece to one of them, usually the larger, younger dog named Jed, and then scream because the dog took it. His screams translate to, “This concept of sharing is not working for me. Everything is mine, even when I give it to you.” Unless he stuffs his food into your mouth until you look like a chipmunk.


While I try to get him to eat something (I will NOT give into candy for breakfast), he either plays with his slide that’s in his room, wants me to join him in his Jake tent, rolls around the house on his car toy, hits the dogs, pulls on Jed’s face, plays with the broken vacuum cleaner, gets upset with it and wants a working one, scares himself when he plugs it in, throws multiple things (boys are destructive, I’m telling you), yells to go outside no matter the weather, whines while doing everything-even when he’s happy, laughs at Jake on Jake and the Neverland Pirates, or all of the above. It’s usually all of the above. All before 9 A.M. Payback is definitely coming back at this kid when he’s a teenager (I love you, honey). He also does all these things while I try to make the beds, do our laundry, attempt to do my morning yoga session (I love me some yoga), and prepping for cooking or trying to study my Bible.


Lately we’ve been doing activities before lunch. It still qualifies as a morning routine, because he hasn’t eaten lunch yet. We painted a plaster monster for Daddy one day, and we played with slightly moistened cornmeal. He loves the cornmeal.


I’m ready for a nap tomorrow and I haven’t even gone to bed for the night yet. This is a skip night yoga and shower ..er.. night.


7 Things About Motherhood


I was so motivated and excited to write this post tonight that I brushed my teeth, washed my face, folded laundry, made the bed (I had washed the sheets), and attempted to put away my son’s toys. I needed a toy box to put his toys in, went into his room to get one, and woke him up. I. Am. Awesome. BUT, he fell back asleep very quickly after, thankfully. I’ve had enough Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for one day. Anyways, here’s a list of random things about becoming a mom and motherhood.

  1. A very great friend and I were talking the other week about the rising prices of crayons and coloring books. She had her daughter a little over three months before I had my son. During the middle of this conversation of me being very upset that coloring books aren’t $1 like they used to be, I stopped and asked her, “Dude, did you ever think two years ago that we would be talking about the rising prices of crayons?” We had a good laugh about it, and then proceeded to talk more about those awful rising prices. (Seriously, $10 for a 10 page coloring book and 5 markers?!) Motherhood: Rising cost in crayons and coloring books DOES matter.
  2. Before I even became pregnant with my son, I always said that I would never be a mom who would have toys laying all over the floor for people to step on. Everything would be perfect and pristine in my household. Yeah, and unicorns would babysit my toddler while I took a spa day in the bathroom, and I wouldn’t have stepped on my son’s toys about 5 times this evening alone. Motherhood: It makes you a hypocrite.
  3. I just recently started going back to the gym after having surgery – in July.  (In my defense, it does take a while for those with P.O.T.S. to recover fully from surgery.) I did an upper body workout and my abs workout (I work my abs every day I workout, gotta strengthen that core, people). I was so sore that I had to do the pregnant woman roll to get off the couch. Motherhood: It teaches you how to efficiently roll off the couch.
  4. I never thought I would be at a loss for words when other people (mostly older folks) start talking to my son and I. You never know whether or not they want you to respond or see if your baby/toddler would coo something at them. It is just a very awkward process, and I am VERY glad when that is over. Motherhood: It makes you go through awkward conversations with people.
  5. Saying, “No,” to a child gets tiring. There are so many times a day where you can tell your child, “No,” before you either flip out on him, leaving him to stare blankly and confused at you, or you just let him do whatever he wants to do, only slightly modifying it for safety reasons. Motherhood: Saying, “No,” so many times will eventually wear you down.
  6. Just like my toddler can go from all smiley to hating my living guts, Mommy can still have some hormonal mood swings a certain time of the month. There is also some extra pain during that certain time of the month that is most likely the cause of those not-so-hormonal mood swings, all because a child came forth from her loins. Motherhood: It makes you still feel like you’re trying to push out a baby once a month for the rest of your fertile life.
  7. Supermoms freak me out. Either they’re taking something to keep them going, or they may be neglecting something and not realizing it, like maybe the hubby. It is a juggling act trying to make sure everyone in the family has their needs taken care of without much damage. Motherhood: It makes you crazy and a juggler. (Maybe I should join a circus.)

There are more things that I wanted to type out tonight, but my body is in automatic shut down mode since my son has been asleep for almost 2 hours. However, I will leave you with one last piece of wisdom: Motherhood changes you, mostly in the hips and thighs.