Grape juice Explosion and ACV 


I know all about the benefits of apple cider vinegar. The real kind. I’ve seen it work personally. But, like most people, I’ve had a lot of trouble getting past the god awful taste. I attribute some of this to a CRAZY weight loss plan I did some years back. I could only eat about 6 different things with limited seasoning, however one of those was Apple Cider Vinegar. So, I cooked A LOT of things in a “stir fry” fashion in the stuff. I think I got major burn out.

So, I’m on my third try of drinking the good for you stuff again. I’ve taken surveys on Facebook to get advice on how the regulars take theirs. My mama is just balls to the wall and shoots hers like a sorority girl and tequila. Others say mix with a bottle of water and my daddy chases his with milk (but his LDL didn’t improve). But, I went to where any self respecting wanna be super mom would go-Pinterest. I found some great recipes that appealed to my tastebuds and didn’t cancel out the health benefits.

I stocked up on fresh pressed Organic grape, cranberry, and apple juice. No sugar added, not from concentrate, only the juice straight from the fruit. I carefully measured it out for and drank it for about 4 days. Then, this happened….

I was running behind so I thought, “I’ve done plenty of shots in my lifetime, this will be a breeze.” I prepared the shot glass and had grape juice as a chaser. I got the shot down and took a gulp of the chaser just as the acid hit my stomach. I literally spewed grape juice all over the kitchen counter and dripped down onto the floor. Because of the burning sensation in my throat I started coughing and couldn’t catch my breath. The penguin, who previously was very concerned for a patient on Grey’s Anatomy, didn’t even bat an eye. She stepped back to let me know I had gotten grape juice on the floor that “daddy had just fixed”. I finally composed myself and made it out the door.

Now, two days later, I am braving it again. Only this time I mixed it, shook it, and poured it over ice. We are watching “Barbie:Life in the Dreamhouse ” and the penguin said I could “close my eyes and pretend I was drinking it on Barbie’s jet”.

Cheer….

#southernbelleoncaffeine

Am I the ringmaster or the monkey?

This morning I was trying to take a bath and shave my legs before someone thought I was an extra for a Wookie. The penguin was sitting on the edge of the tub, Tommy was standing at the edge scrolling on his 📱. I asked “when you are in a mental institution, are there this many people watching you all the time?” Of course in my most sarcastic tone. Tommy replied, “yes, especially if you have a razor”. OMG! Somebody please help me. I’m in a cage.

#southernbellegoingcrazy

#southernbelleoncaffeiene

You can’t always win

As the penguin 🐧 and I “Raced” 🏁 to get dressed this morning, she would say “I’m going to win”! Then she saw me with my shirt 👚 half on putting on deodorant and said “NO CHEATING!”. I asked, “putting on deodorant is cheating?” “Yes!” She says. I replied in my usual dark and twisty mother of the year way, “you need to learn how to loose” 🤦‍♀️ 

The penguin replied, “oh I know how to loose”

“Do tell me your story of loosing that Lifetime will make a movie 🎥 about ”

“Loosing means you don’t win. You can’t always win”…

Well, there you go….

The Penguin tells me why I’m not a cool kid

Well, you know that I care nothing about being a cool kid. Never did, never will. I definitely don’t tell the Penguin about being cool, except for in the sarcastic way this conversation went this morning. But, it is alarming how even at age six she has some understanding of  cool vs. uncool.

We were discussing the pop socket I have on the back of my phone. You know, that really stupid gadget that is making someone a fortune because it is the latest thing to have. I guess I fall prey to propaganda, and I love gadgets! 

Penguin: I like this on the back of your phone. What is it?

Southern Belle: It’s called a pop socket, its what all the cool kids have (sarcasm oozing)

P: Ms. Sarah and Ms. Summer have one of those on their phone, but it doesn’t look like yours.

SB: Okay

P: Mama, you can’t be a cool kid (looking up at me like the emoji SMH should be above her head)

SB: Why not? (Very indignant, yet humorous)

P: Because you don’t wear a hat, cool kids wear hats

SB: Uh? Cool kids wear hats?

P: Yes, daddy can be a cool kid because he wears a hat

SB: Where did you learn this rule?

P: Dylan, he says cool kids wear hats. Sometimes they even wear them backwards 

Now, I’m the one with the face palm emoji above my head.

#southernbelleoncaffeine

The dust never settles

I guess I’ve gotten somewhat used to change in the last three years. Maybe I’m better at it at times than others. The schedule changes. The last minute “I won’t be home until tomorrow ” changes. Maybe I have just accepted not to expect or rely on anything constant. So, maybe I haven’t adjusted to change, I’ve just accepted there is nothing to rely on.

Yes, here I am. The cynical, smart ass Southern Belle you came to love. I have tried to hide that too. The cynicism. But, sometimes it proves to be too much and it overflows. 

The dust is stirred up on our dirt road as he drives in off the road. But, thinking about what we do with the short time he is home….

I don’t think the dust has settled from the trip down the dirt road home when it’s time to drive away again.

Roots can be big in a small town


My earliest memory of wanting to leave my small town was middle school. The feeling probably began earlier than that, but Jr High is when I remember it becoming a day to day goal. Spread my wings, see the big city, go somewhere that my unique personality would be appreciated. All of the cliche “I’m too big for this small town” reasons. 

I left. Graduated high school early and moved away for college. I stayed away for ten years. Then, another cliche event happened-I moved back after a difficult divorce. Cue the Julia Roberts movie now. In the last years of my marriage I actually had tossed the idea of moving back around. It seemed like a good idea. Maturity and life lessons had made me realize the advantages of a small town. But the stars were aligned differently and the blessing of a divorce came, so I packed up and moved ‘home’ to plant my roots.

I’ve been back in my hometown now for almost nine years. Almost equal to the time I was gone. I’ve remarried, built a house on my family’s land, and we are raising our six year old daughter. Our daughter goes to the same primary school I went to with some of the same teachers. We attend the same church my grandmother attended when she was alive. My daddy was born and raised in this small town also. There is a comfortable familiarity that is soothing and at the same time the reasons I wanted to leave sometimes rear their ugly head too. 

But, then this happens. My six year old breaks her wrist and is going to have surgery Tuesday. We have had such an outpouring of support and prayer from the community that can only come from this small town. A high school classmate of mine who no longer lives here has a son who is battling a rare form of childhood cancer. This small town is supporting her with fundraiser help, donations, etc even though she lives two hours away. But, she’s one of ours. Her roots are still in this ground of this small town too. That’s when I realized there is no place I’d rather be to raise my small family than here in this small town. 

Complacency and the F* Word


It’s no secret I have weight issues. Body image issues. Well, yes, issues in general. For the first time in a really long time, I really believed I had found a healthy place with my weight . Healthy in terms or my way of thinking about it most importantly. Turns out, I became somewhat complacent in my journey, and apparently when you struggle with the F* word, being complacent cannot be afforded. 

After a year long weight loss, monitored by a physician, I really was in a good place. Physically and mentally. But, around Christmas, when all of those treats start rolling in to the office I started thinking like a skinny girl and not like a chronic F* one. I am not shaming the thin. I also know there are plenty of thin girls who work HARD at staying that way. I’m referring to the genetically, weird universe joke, thin women/girls who really do eat what they want and amazingly remain thin. And by “eat whatever they want” I am referring to the fact that they may just eat. Period. Or they may eat the Christmas treats, not in excess, but enjoy them like all of the other “normal” people, not like the chronic F* ones. Yeah, so I thought somehow my 50lb weight loss put me in that category. As if the cosmos had shifted and I had never been the 8 year old at Weight Watchers, never been the chronic F* person. I thought I had a handle on it. I still felt the same and mentally I felt great because for once I was being realistic about food and not restrictive. 

For the past year I’ve only weighed at the doctors office. Just a pact I made with myself, that in order to overcome being obsessive about my weight it was best this way. Call me crazy, okay you don’t have to, I know I am, but I decided to weigh after the New Year. No, not because of some stupid resolution. There is no resolution when you are me. There is just life. I’ve learned that lesson over and over. The scale reflected my biggest fear. Weight gain! What? The thin girl I thought I was can eat within reason and not gain but a few pounds, not 15lbs!! That’s when the news flash hit me like the ton of bricks this emotional baggage is. I AM NOT the thin girl. I never will be. Complacency has no place with the F* word.

Now, I am trying to hold on so I mentally don’t tailspin out. Mentally tailspinning will only cause me to gain more weight believe it or not. I’ve got to take over my thoughts again and get back control of this. I have got to resist letting the scars that haven’t completely healed begin to ooze once more with toxic thinking. I realize now it takes more than a year for me to overcome whatever psycholocal issues I suffer from concerning my weight and body image. I realize that half my battle is in my head, not on the plate. I realize I am not and will never be the thin girl and maybe I’ll be okay with that one day. But, right now I’m working on gaining my control back.
**I am not and never would body shame anyone-even if they are the thin girl or the chronic F* girl like myself. These are just the thoughts on my head**