March 7, 2010

Bedroom Redo

It’s finished! It’s done! Completed! Accomplished! Achieved! The procrastinators (Television Man and I) united and we got it done!

I had a slight meltdown when the paint color hit the walls. It is SUPER dark – darker than I even expected it to be – but I think with all of the new bright accessories it looks good.

What do you think? Too dark? Too much stuff? I’m still debating all of it but I think I really like it.

March 5, 2010


First things first….thank you all so much for your comments and e-mails, I have a lot of responding to do. I can tell there have been some people thinking about me and praying for me because the past two days have been really good.

Ok….Leigh’s random thoughts of the day. (And let me warn you ahead of time, they are DEEP today. Sarcasm people, sarcasm.)

(Also, these are totally numbered because I am way too lazy to make coherent paragraphs that tie together.)

(I enjoy the parenthesis.)

1. Last night….Real Housewives overload! Does anyone else have a sick obsession with this show? So unbelievably trashy and yet I just can’t. stop. watching. Where do they FIND those people?!

2. I think I like the ‘Tinkerbell’ movies more than my small person. Seriously, shouldn’t life be more like Pixie Hollow??? Your job is to paint ladybugs or make flowers bloom – could that be any more perfect? I am 28 years old and I sit with Tootsie and try to decide what my “fairy talent” would be. Is there a napping talent fairy? Cause I would totally rock at that one.

3. My daughter is currently walking around the house with her Halloween bucket, knocking on cabinet doors saying “Trick or Treat tower”. I have NO idea.

4. The Television Man and I are going to paint our bedroom this weekend. That’s right, we’ve only had paint chips on our wall for a couple of months. Procrastinators UNITE! Tomorrow.

5. We’re going to paint it a dark poop brown. I hope it looks awesome, not horrible. I’ll post some pictures after we get it all finished. There are also new curtain rods to hang. Let’s all just say a little prayer right now that it all goes well. Sweet Television Man is about as handy as a foot. He’s wonderful at a LOT of things but if it includes a drill, well…..that’s an interesting story.

6. I’m slightly terrified that this weekend will end up in divorce. We’re great together unless there are paintbrushes involved. Seriously y’all….pray.

7. Last, but certainly not least, my hair growth experiment has now resulted in a mullet. I am praying through this phase. It’s taking all my strength to not call on the scissors. It’s not pretty people. Not. Pretty.

March 3, 2010


So where have I been?

Well, dear reader…..I’ve been feeling sorry for myself.

I’m about to make some confessions here that may cause me a lot of embarrassment. Who knows, I may delete this entire post – but I feel the need to be completely honest. To purge, to confess, to get this flipping monkey off my back.

So Leigh, why are you feeling sorry for yourself?

Let’s back up a ways…..a long ways to when I was 13. I traveled with my church’s youth choir to Nashville. Never one to shy away from anything social or fun at that age, I was excited. Excited about singing in front of large groups of people, of spending the week with my very best friends and for the day trip to Opryland that was on the itinerary.

It was all going very well until the day of the theme park trip. It was hot – I wasn’t with my parents and therefore my diet consisted of Mountain Dew and doughnuts – and those two things combined didn’t go well together and I had a little heat stroke in the middle of Opryland USA.

Mortification follows, being 13 and all.

And then suddenly, I’m convinced that I’m dying. I wasn’t, of course. I had been hydrated and treated and all was well – but I was 13 and away from home and scared senseless and I was pretty sure I was going to die. I remember kneeling over a toilet that evening with one of the chaperones holding my hair and my best friend Ashley rubbing my back and I just kept saying “I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m dying. Dead, dead, dead.”

I got home and was no better – my parents rushed me to the home of our family physician (and also dear friend) and he diagnosed me.

Official diagnosis? CRAZY.

At 13 I started having anxiety attacks and they haven’t let up since. I go through times (sometimes months) where I’m doing great – completely in control of my emotions and reactions and then WHAMMO! I’ll have a huge anxiety attack and it throws me right back into square one. Head over toilet, chanting, “Dead, dead, dead. I’m dying. I’m dead.”

Medication can help – but the medication also causes me to be lethargic, gain weight, have a general “who gives a flip” feeling about life. (Well, the one’s that control the anxiety attacks do at least.) Yet, I’m not able to get control over my emotions unless I’m on something.

I went to the doctor 10 days ago and he prescribed Buspar. So here I am, day 10 – not really sure if I feel better and just praying for some relief.

I want to be able to live my life and not worry about ridiculousness. I don’t want fear to swallow me whole. I can’t live my life worrying about things that are completely out of my control anymore.

In high school a lot of people thought I was a snot. Aloof, distant, averted all eye contact. The truth was I was terrified – and I still am. There were very few people I was comfortable around and I am still that way. Making friends and keeping friends is nearly impossible for me because of constantly being consumed by fear.

So yeah, there’s where the feeling sorry for myself enters.

I hate that I can’t be that person. That I can’t grab my own shoulders and shake some sense into me. I hate that one side of my brain knows that I’m fine while the other side of my brain is convinced I’m not. I hate not being able to enjoy life, my child, my husband, a pretty day, for fear of an anxiety attack.

I hate being afraid of being alone. Driving. Flying. Traveling far from home. Meeting new people. Etc, etc, etc. (I could go on but the list of crazy is long and honestly, quite mortifying to see all sprawled out in black and white.)

I hate all of it.

So…..if you’re the praying sort – would you say a prayer for me?

And, if you’re a crazy sort – would you share your story with me? Any of you out there dealing with this? Dealt with it? Beat it?

Leigh needs a hug. And maybe a cheese plate.
P.S. If you don't really want to talk about it in my comments section feel free to email me.

February 23, 2010

Mickey Monday (on a Tuesday)

I forgot Mickey Monday yesterday. Let’s blame it on the fact that it was an “early nap” kind of day for the Toots.
So let’s see….Day 2….

Our day started out early – we met the Mayor of Main Street, which, hello? best job ever.

Then it was off to breakfast with Cindy – who promptly commented that she “Adored” Tootsie’s bows.

Then after a quick order of cream cheese stuffed French toast and fruit Audrey started wishing…

And just like magic, her favorite princesses appeared.

After an amazing breakfast, we were off for a quick spin on everyone’s favorite flying elephant.

We hopped back on the bus to check into home #2. Our happy place. The place we live in our dreams. Animal Kingdom Lodge. We had savannah view for the first time and Audrey was mesmerized by the giraffe’s just feet from our balcony.

I don’t care if you’re 2 or 28, there is nothing more fabulous than waking up in the morning to zebra’s, antelope, water buffalo and giraffe’s hanging out right outside of your room.
We spent a lot of time just exploring our resort that afternoon. After a while we headed out to Animal Kingdom.

Had a Pizzafari.

And then saw the “Hakuna Matata” show. One of Tootsie’s personal favorites of the entire trip.

The evening was spent with Poppa at Epcot (that somehow I have NO pictures of) and I must say that Disney just isn’t Disney until my Dad arrives. He was my first “Disney buddy” and it will always be one of my favorite places to be with him.

Day 3 next Monday!

February 21, 2010


I was just doing a bit of online browsing while waiting for my husband to get home from his interminable business trip. (Yes, hello? Television Man’s employer? 8 days equals too many. Thankyouverymuch)

I stumbled upon this beauty. Cute, right? Totally.

Guess how much?


You’re never going to guess because it is ridiculous.



Can you tell it’s 1:15 in the morning?

It’s $265!!!!!

Two hundred and sixty five American dollars.

For a baby dress.

That looks like something I could get at TJ Maxx n’ More for $19.99!

A dress that will be puked on. Pooped on. Pee’d on.

Baby’s don’t CARE that it’s Dolce & Gabana people – they care that when it needs to come out it comes out.

Do people really spend this much on baby clothes? I mean…are people this dense??

I sit and stare at this little pink number and wonder if I HAD that much money if I would spend it on a baby sundress……

And then I remember sweet potato puree puke and say with absolute certainty – not in a million years.

February 17, 2010

9 years

*Be ye warned….more sentimentality lies within this post*

So….I’ve always loved you.

From the time I was 15 and I told you “Je t’aime mon cheri” because I thought I was clever.

And when you proposed to me a short 3 years later? When we were TOTALLY old enough to get married, right? Well, I loved you a LOT then.

I loved you with all of my heart when we got married a year later and we moved into our little house on Hawkins Drive. When we had zero money and ate LOTS of ramen noodles.

I love you at the beach.

I love to do silly things with you that we have no business doing but we ROCK at. (Insert sarcasm here)

I love Bob shows with you.

I love to watch you run.

I loved watching you with our niece when she was first born.

And 9 days after that I loved knowing I was pregnant with our baby.

But then she showed up and I knew….

I knew that I really, really loved you.

Happy anniversary my boy! 9 years down, 80 more to go.

February 16, 2010

Yo Snow!

Dear Audrey Laine,

There is nothing…




(And your rolled up pajama pants under your Snow White skirt, you trying to put on your Buzz Lightyear watch, you wearing plastic high heels, you taking your Daddy to the ball, your tiny gap toothed smile and the way you curtsy. There is nothing better than you.)