Hi.  My name is Katy, and I am not a runner. 

I have not been running for a month now.  To be honest, I think my brain is too small for running.  The way it bounces around in my skull leads me to believe that serious head trauma could result should I decide to continue running.  But it's not just the head trauma that is stopping me from accomplishing my goal of becoming a life-long runner, it is also my hypochondria/paranoia.  For most folks, hitting the pavement is how they clear their heads.  Make plans for the future.  Write their first screen-plays.  Not so with me.  The moment my pace increases, my mind starts racing.  "Is that my heart beat I hear?  Why is my heart beating in my forehead?  Let me check my pulse.  1,2,3...  OMG, is my pulse rate supposed to be that high. 725 beats per minute seems high.  I better walk.  I think I might be having a stroke.  No.  Don't you dare walk.  Don't be quitter."   So after a few more minutes of berating myself, I settle into the fact that I might actually not be dying and then my thoughts take an even darker dive.  Suddenly, every man I see is a sexual predator.  If a car starts slowing down as it approaches me, I begin planning my escape route.  My jog turns into a waiting game of- is this going to be the sicko that drags me into his car and takes me away from my family forever.  Then the car passes and I breathe a sigh of relief.  Matt thinks I would feel better if I just carried around a bottle of mace.  I think I would feel better if cellulite lotion really worked; then none of this would even be an issue.  But lotion doesn't work, the jarring of my tiny brain against my skull causes migraines, and creepy men in El Caminos scare me.  Running sucks! At this point I am beginning to lose hope, and guess what I do when I lose hope?  I go to Publix and buy two orange-cranberry scones from the bakery.  I eat one as soon as I get home and save one for breakfast.  This makes me feel better about how disappointing cellulite creams are.  It also allows me to forget about head trauma and elevated heart rates.  Most of all, an orange-cranberry scone from Publix could almost make me believe that a 48 year old man, with a sleeve of rebel flag tattoos, wearing a wife beater, and driving an El Camino is harmless.  I know.  Crazy.  It must be the antioxidants.  So much for running; now on to my next ill-fated attempt at completing something meaningful.  Until then, ta-ta!

Matt calls me "The Trash Maker."  And he's right.  It seems as soon as Matt gives me the warning, "The garbage can outside is overflowing, so pleeeeeeeaaaasssseee don't make any more trash," I get the inexplicable urge to edit my wardrobe, clean out the two junk drawers in the kitchen, and empty the waste basket from the bathroom.   I'm not sure, but I think it might have something to do with control.  I mean really, who does he think he is, telling me I can't make trash in my own house?  I'll show him. But that is just me being immature because deep down I know he is right.  I shouldn't cram the garbage can so full that the lid won't close, just like I shouldn't use a metal fork to scramble eggs in our non-stick pan.  But if I listened to his advice, he would win, and I just can't have that.  Our most memorable fights all include my shouting something about him not being my daddy.   What can I say, I don't like being told what to do.  I don't even like suggestions.  I don't even care if the word pleeeeeaaaassseee is used.  And when I feel like I'm being "bossed", teenage rebellion begins pumping through my veins and I get all mouthy and say things like, "Whatever.  You're not my dad," or I question him, "Why are you trying to act like you're my dad?"   I'll admit it, "You're not my daddy" has become my brass knuckles in our marital disputes.  I keep it in my back pocket for easy access.  But Matt has brass knuckles of his own.  He keeps "If it wasn't for me, nothing would get done around here," safely tucked away in his invisible lapel pocket.  So we are even.  We take turns having the upper hand, but we always go to bed holding hands, no brass knuckles, just forgiveness.

On July 28th Matt and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. This is big. This is real big. A DECADE big. In ten years we have graduated college, lived in three different houses, had three children, worked full time, owned 10 different cars, 6 dogs, and 2 cats. Financially, things were difficult in the beginning- WIC checks, Save-A-Lot, chicken thighs, and Ramen noodles. Our house was a joke- drums in the living room, a leopard print covered couch, a white vinyl chair, green linoleum, white metal kitchen cabinets. Of course we now look back at those difficult times and get a little nostalgic. If you don't mind, I would like to journey back in time.
The year- 1995
"I don't want to be a cheerleader. I quit. I want to be alternative. Let's go to the thrift store and pick out some really ugly shirts. Then we will look so grunge."
Okay, so I set the scene. I was in the "I want to be different" phase, when along came Matt. He was so grunge. And all his friends were grunge. And they had piercings and blue hair and listened to Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana. You get the picture. Then somehow, one day, Matt came over to my house. I guess you could call it our first date. We sat on my bedroom floor and watched a marathon of "My So Called Life." We connected. I don't know how many weeks we dated, but then I did him wrong, and his "band" went on to sing about what a "bleep" I was at the Battle of the Bands. I was there. In the crowd. Wearing the Hershey Kiss shirt he bought me from the thrift store. That was the end of us. Four years later, we reconnected.
The year- 1998-1999I don't know if you know this, but St. Johns River Community College is actually just a place where you pay money to smoke cigarettes and sit on benches. At least that's what is was for most of us. During my first semester at Smokers Community College, Matt and I started hanging out with some of the same people. Yep. There was definitely still a connection. Googly eyes, sitting too close, bumping shoulders. After a camping trip with friends, we couldn't hide our affection for each other any longer. Despite being burned by me in the past, Matt swallowed his pride, and decided to give us another chance.
The year- 2000Even though we had two more years of college to complete, we decided to get married. My mom will deny this now, but my curfew was 11:00 pm on school nights. I found this curfew to be ridiculous. I was a college student, not a sophomore in high school. I'm not saying that my early curfew was the reason we got married so young, but I will say it didn't help. Matt and I were inseparable, and we could not think of any reason why we shouldn't just tie the knot. So we did. Karl Flagg led the ceremony which was held in the Ravine Gardens. A family of raccoons watched on from a nearby oak tree, as our guests cursed under their breath for having to endure such extreme heat. I'm sorry by the way. The reception was held at the Golf Course. There was live music and dancing and drinking. A perfect night!
The year- 2002-2007Kids, kids, and more kids. I lost my mind a little bit. Sorry, babe. Hormones and all, not to mention, genetics. I got through it, thanks to him. We took vacations, we took pictures- lots of them, we bought stuff, we made stuff, we loved the kids, we loved each other.
The year- 2008-2010Things got easier. Not so many crises. The kids became more self-sufficient. Matt got more chill. I got more stable. Money, not so tight. We smiled more, we laughed more, we did more.
Present DayToday is just another day in our marriage. I am home with Josie and Lucas. Matt is out fishing on the kayak with Hayden. When he gets home, we will have lunch and talk about things. I'll ask him to build me something or sign something and he will give me that annoyed look, and I'll laugh because I know that I'm being annoying. But that is marriage. It is about annoyances. Like hearing your partner slurp his/her coffee. But it is more about love. Like saving enough coffee for your partner to have a second cup. And that is Matt. He loves me and saves me coffee and slurps his own. And I love him, more than butterflies:)

I had a little mini meltdown today.  Maybe it was because I was so hungry my stomach started trying to digest itself or maybe it was because mommy(me) and children had a little too much together time.  I'm guessing it was a little of both;  luckily for all involved, as fast as the meltdown came, it went.  The morning started out great; I drank some coffee, watched my man Matt Lauer, made the kids breakfast (cereal), I even got a little crafty.  Then I decided that I wanted to go to Target.  My plan was to drive to St. Augustine, go straight to the bedding department, pick out the quilt that I've placed in my online shopping cart 1,000 times before and leave.  Simple and efficient, which is the only kind of plan to have when you are dragging three kids along for the ride.  When I informed the kids that we were going to Target, Hayden let out an exasperated sigh followed by the cringe worthy question, "Can I get a toy?"  I actually believe it was that one question which set my mini meltdown into motion.  In the last week alone Hayden has gotten a slime hand, cap gun, skunk ball, and a PS3 game.  He has stayed the night out twice in the last week, played golf with his cousin and BB, eaten at numerous restaurants, and so on and so forth.  When Josie and Hayden learned that neither would be receiving a prize for participating in my oh so quick jaunt to Target, they began melting off the couch like the Wicked Witch of the West and onto the floor where together they created the most colorful puddle I'd ever seen.  On my way to get the mop, the phone rang.  It was my mom (Mimi). She asked if the kids and I wanted to go swimming at the Country Club Pool.  My heart was screaming, "No, go to Target.  You deserve that white and tan mini quilt set!"  But my mind was saying, "Katy, dear-dear Katy, do you really want to carry a mop around Target to sop up all those colorful puddles of deprived, toy less children?"  Obviously I went with my head, and agreed to meet my mom at the pool because who really wants to push a buggy and carry a mop at the same time?  Not me.  As soon as I said yes, resentment set in.  But my hair, I thought, I straightened my hair for nothing.  I'm never going to get that mini quilt set.  The kids always get their way.  I don't have a bathing suit that fits me.  I'm fat.  I'm hungry.  And so on.  "We're going to the pool," I mumbled, and in record time the kids were dressed. Luke was trying to put on his swimmies before we even got out of the door.  Then I flipped it on them.  "Kids, we are going to go to Target.  I'll be real quick.  Then we will go to the pool."  But before I even got to the stop sign at the end of my road, I knew that my plan was destined for failure.  My hunger was so overwhelming that the only logical thing to do was to get food, but from where?  It was 10:30 in the morning.  Would I get breakfast or lunch?  Then I saw a McDonald's semi truck.  Question answered.  Two cheeseburgers later, I almost felt like myself again, but there was still one more thing I needed to do before I could take my kids to the pool.  I needed a bathing suit.  "We're going to JcPenny because I don't have a bathing suit that fits me," I said. 
"Isn't that weird, mom, that you keep exercising but your clothes are getting too little for you?" asked Josie.
"That is sooooo weird, Josie.  I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I just ate two cheeseburgers."
Thank goodness for JcPenny because they had a bathing suit that actually fit me and looked decent.  I payed more than I wanted to pay, but that single purchase saved my sanity today and allowed me to enjoy an afternoon of swimming with my 3 deprived and toy less children.  Oh, and I do still intend on buying myself that mini quilt set from Target.  And if you were wondering how many times I could possibly write mini quilt set in one post, well, mini quilt set, mini quilt set, mini quilt set.

When Josie first started dressing her baby dolls in panties, I was all, "Josie, that looks weird.  Why don't you put some real clothes on those babies?" But being the fashionista that Josie is, she ignored my remarks and continued to dress her babies in little girl panties tied with a rubber band in the back to hold them in place.  Occasionally, Josie does dress her dolls in actual baby clothes, but she always ties them up in the back with a rubber band.  She definitely has a mind of her own.  Today I bought Josie a tea set and Lucas an Iron Man mask.  Hayden was at his Mimi and BB's house, so he was left out on the whole toy purchase extravaganza.  The kids have been enjoying their new toys all afternoon.  Take a peep at this awesome tea party...

Check out these freaky pics from our trip to Chattanooga, TN.  We rode the Incline Railway up to the top of the mountain.  It is supposed to be the steepest incline by railway in the world-77 degrees, or something close to that.  The ride up to the top of the mountain was really cool and the glass roof made for an interesting view, although the top of the mountain was not nearly as exciting.  If you are in Chattanooga, I would say definitely ride the Incline, but if you have to drive two hours to get there like we did, I would say pass.  I badly wanted to go to Ruby Falls, which was only a hop, skip, and a jump away, but it only offered an hour and a half long guided tour.  Definitely not the kind of trip you take with a two year old, that is unless you like the feeling of grinding your teeth into dust.  Nope, not for me.  So, maybe in a few years we will visit Ruby Falls and Rock City, but for today, the Incline Railway was enough.

We made it!  All I can say is, "Wow!"  Today was the perfect day.  The kids slept in, we ate eggs and bacon for breakfast, fished in the lake, relaxed on the porch swing- I could go on and on.  Instead, I will just post some of my favorite pictures from today, which happens to be Father's Day.  Matt said countless times today that it was the best Father's Day EVER, and I believe he was telling the truth.  I can't remember the last time I've seen him so chilled.