Worry

90% of the things we worry about never happen. I read this several years ago and as a certified professional worrier, I do admit that it has brought some comfort over the past 23 years. But I still worry that it's not statistically true. I mean what if for some people, fate doesn't give them 90/10? What if some of us got slapped with a 10/90 ticket? Could you imagine- if 10% of the things I worry about never happens? That means 90% of the things I did worry about were going to happen at some unknown point in my tiny little life. Ugh. That means along with cancer and never meeting Jordan Knight, I'll also be faced with realities such as an unathletic son and our planet exploding.

As horrible as my memory is, I can recall very vividly my first moment of unjustified worry. I was 10 years old, and someone said, "Wow, you're ten years old. You're a whole decade!". After a few fleeting seconds of  "hell yeah, I'm a decade, biiaaatch!", I began adding up the years and quickly realized that in just three decades, I would be 40 and my life would be over. What started out as an adult initiating playful banter with a child turned into my personal obession with all the ways anything could go wrong.

So as I was just worrying about Tyson's runny nose and traffic on my way to the gym this evening, I felt the need to list my worries- for both your enjoyment and perhaps your horror. Some of these are ligit- others are quite absurd. Please forgive my frankness and try not to judge.

I worry that Tyson doesn't drink enough water and watches too much TV.
I worry that Kyle will break something playing basketball with 19 year olds that think they're LeBron James.
I worry that I will never write my book.
I still worry that if I buy a gallon of milk, it will spoil. That has never happend.
I worry that I'm not as crafty as a part time stay at home mom should be.
I worry about going to the dentist. Even 6 months away from my next appointment.
I worry that there is wax in my ears and boogers in my nose. Q-tips are good for both.
I worry that Tyson will not like sports. And if he does, I worry that he won't be good.
I worry about thay mole on my boob.
I worry about my boobs- that they'll always look like flesh-colored eggplants. You are welcome.
I worry about money.
I worry about money again.
I worry about money some more.
I worry about Tyson's first day of kindergarten.
I worry that I will always have this nose.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with my friends.
I worry that one day, I will really really want to move back to South Carolina.
I worry about our country.
I worry about our society.
I worry about our planet.
I worry that  I will never ever have the gift of unwavering willpower.
I worry that I will not leave the footprint that I am capable of leaving.
I worry about icy roads in summer.
I worry that at some point in my life, I will need to react to a life or death situation with a calmness, clarity and strength beyond anything I have ever known. And I worry that I will fail miserably.
I worry that I will never be a patient person.
I worry about Jennifer Aniston.
I worry about people breaking into our house.
I worry about human, solar and planetary spontanious combustion.
I worry that a bridge will collapse the very moment I am driving over it.
I worry that I will never see the New Kids on the Block in concert again.
I worry about the honey bees, bats, polar bears and whales.
I worry that I will never have a body that I truly love.
I worry that my daughter will be the same way.
I worry about natural disasters. I worry so much about them that I won't ever consider traveling to California for fear that "the big one" will hit while I'm there.
I worry that I worry too much to fully enjoy and appreciate my amazing life.

Riley Elizabeth

Riley's First Birthday from Brandy Brown on Vimeo.

Kids and Scissors

This is a link to my old and very dear friend Deilia's family blog. Sometimes when it comes to kids, other people's misery is just plain funny. I had to share this....

http://deiliabrianrolandmarlowe.blogspot.com/2010/02/keep-telling-me-this-will-be-funny-in.html

Because on Valentine's Day, you can never have enough cheese.

Valentine's Day 2010 from Brandy Brown on Vimeo.

She's on the move!

Only in the South

Being from the South is one of my two favorite things about me. The second is that every once in a while, if I'm sitting a certain way, at the right weight (only works if I'm 150 or less), with the right lighting, someone looks at me and says, "You know, you kind of look like Jennifer Aniston." Really! It's happened 4 TIMES!!!

Being from the South affords you all sorts of shenanigans like losing your voice screaming and cursing at a football game one day and teaching Sunday School the next. Being from the South makes it ok to make vodka that tastes like sweet tea and market it as the nostalgic reflections of your childhood (Firefly- If you haven't tried it- go get some. Now.) Being from the South makes you realize just how beautiful southern women really are. And how... when they speak, if only on occasion, every syllable is made of molasses, every word is its own song, and every sentence makes you want to write it down- just so you never forget it.
And not to leave out our classy southern gentleman; your smooth, sultry rednecklish is pretty irresistable too...

I'd like to make this a seriers of sorts- to have a place to write down memories, old sayings, wives tales, quotes, whatever. But I don't want them to come from just me. I want any of you to send me some examples of a Southerner speaking southern- or rednecklish- in every context of the word. And I'll share them in a future posts. Send me your southern story at bsmith_23@yahoo.com

I love love love the magazine 'Real Simple'- and in the October 2009 issue, they featured readers quotes on the question, "What does home mean to you?"

And here was my favorite...

"What does home mean to me? A pantry, fully stocked with jars of pickles, jams and fruits, all perserved by friends, family members and me. Home is going into that pantry, leaning against its shelves, which are probably a little dusty, popping open a Mason Jar of homemade apple butter, and eating it right there, out of the jar with a long iced-tea spoon."
-Victoria Fedden
Ft. Lauderdale, FL

Illinois

I had two Maids of Honor in my wedding- Allison and Rachel. Because at a very care-free, beautifully chaotic time in my life- we were as close as three very different individuals could be. For about two years, we were a package deal. But in Feburary of 2004, my life took an unexpected turn when Kyle and I found out we were adding to the herd. A baby. An effin' baby.

After having convinced the two to forge on without me- that it was the 'only way'- they did just that. It was hard. I was excited about having a child with the man I loved so dearly- but it was hard. Nine months later, they were there for the birth of my first child. Sharing that experience with the two of them meant more than any party, any concert or any beer tent could ever offer.

Still, beer tents do sound pretty kick-ass...

A few years later, Allison began contemplating a move back to her home state of Illinois. Rachel and I devised several illegal and immoral plans to keep her here, but decided she might need the use of that arm at some point so we let her go. Kicking. Screaming. We said goodbye- to the trio and life as we knew it- all crammed in the back of that little black Celica.

So here we all are- each immersed in our own little worlds for 95% of the time. Rach is loving life- a new job, staying active and looking forward to getting back in the dating scene. I, of course, stay busy with Riley, Tyson and cramming Subway Sandwiches in my pie-hole. And Allison? Well, Allison became a mommy to Tanner Joe almost two months ago. So Rach and I traveled to Illinois to meet his acquaintance. And what a sweet little blessing he was!

And to wake up our livers a little. Or- a lot.

So before you get to the pics, I'd like to share a few very important things I learned on this trip. Who knew it would be so educational?

• Rach hearts cruise control and bands with weird names.
• 5 story gigantic crosses are super creepy at night, illuminated by orange light and partially hidden in dense fog.
• 5 story gigantic crosses are super creepy at night, illuminated by orange light and partially hidden in dense fog and pretty much any other time of day and in any kind of weather. It's just a bit much, people.
• lllinois is flatter than a 10 year old girl.
• People in Illinois do not take well to curves in their roads. Your messin' with the grid system, apparently.
• In Illinois, beer or more specifically, The Beast, is consumed quickly and frequently.
• Crepe's are Yumm-O.
• If you meet someone named Matt Dean- you may not call him Matt. You must call him MattDean.
• His fiance', Lindsey, is super sweet. (Still pulling for you to find the dress of your dreams!)
• Allison and Dusty make pretty babies. Boomer is pretty cute too!
• Allison's Mom, Vicki: true definition of a matriarch- takes care of business, laughs often, and creates a home that is saturated in all that it means to love family. She fits it well.
• Allison's Stepdad, Tom: true defintion of a man that appreciates life for all the right reasons. And very funny. Smart funny.
• Allison's brother, Scott: Turkey Killer (no- this is a compliment- a title he wears proudly.) And funny- Smartass funny 
• Allison's Family: Even better than beer tents. And all the reason a young woman needs to go back home.

• I've learned that a friendship- or even better, a threeship- can withstand and surivive life and all its twists and turns. And that with a little effort, gas money and a pocketful of memories- you can be 23 again. Even in the Washington Street Pub.

-Love you girls! Thanks for a wonderful and much needed weekend away!

                                        

Vicki and Tom's Home

And last but not least- The Effingham Cross. I guess if Jesus does come back, at least we know where he'll be landing...