Author: Blog-admin

And Coopy? Needed attention as usual. Look at this face.

Tatum made Ollie a little seed cake.

He loves his MOMMY so much.

Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday, but this year Tatum went all in on the red. Red as in “AAAHHH, what did you puncture?!” She called it “Ghost Face,” but all I could think of was the worst movie from the 90s: Scream. 

No thank you. Still, she had a blast trick-or-treating with her little “sisters of mayhem,” so I rolled with it and joined in the spirit literally with “ghost hair.” LOL

It was innocent, fun, and just plain silly. I’m not worried she’s heading to the “dark side.” She just wanted candy and laughter, and honestly, that’s what Halloween should be.

Of course, the night wasn’t over without a little “Switch Witch” twist. When Tatum got home, I was already in bed but she HAD to know how much candy she got. I had her weigh her candy in pounds! She got on the scale, then got back on holding the candy, and I said, “Okay, quick math: how many ounces in a pound?” (Hint: it comes after 15.) Silence. I grinned and said, “I’ll give you fifty cents an ounce. Figure it out!”

She picked her favorites, redeemed the rest, and all was well in Candyland; until she woke up with a tummy ache and had to miss her Saturday soccer game. (no bueno)

Parenting win? I’ll call it a tie.

Okay, someone please explain our government to me.

When Tatum was a baby, I quit my teaching job to be home with her full-time. Back then, I applied for state medical assistance, and honestly, it was a lifesaver for a few years. But here’s where it gets funny.

I was part-time at GCU (living that professor life), and the state really wanted to help me. They offered me food stamps, but I never took them. I said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” You’d think that was the end of it, right? Nope.

Fast forward to years later: 2019 through 2025, they’re still calling, mailing letters, auto-renewing things I never asked for, and now… drumroll please… I get this shiny new “SUN Bucks” card in the mail for Tatum. It’s a government-sponsored “summer nutrition” program ; $120 in free food!

Y’all. I didn’t apply. I didn’t ask. I didn’t even wink in their direction. Yet somehow, here we are…. still on the government’s “we insist you take free food” list.

I’m over here like, “Guys, I’m okay! Really!”
Meanwhile, they’re saying, “No, seriously, we insist. Take this EBT card. For the children.”

So now Tatum’s got her very own “SUN Bucks” card; our state’s way of saying, “We care so much, we’re just gonna send it whether you like it or not.” My TAX dollars at work.
I love the waste that you and I get to pay for.

Can someone explain why the Democrats think the best plan is to take from people who work hard and then force help on people who never even asked for it? I mean, I’ve been there : I know what it’s like to need help, but this “we’ll just give it all away anyway” approach is wild. So basically, Democrats think the solution is: take from the earners, give to everyone … even those who don’t need it. How does that make sense?

Maybe I should just use it to buy Cooper some dog treats and call it a day.

We took Coopy to PetSmart to get his teeth cleaned….. only $12, so what the heck, right? OH DEAR. The groomer asked me to leave because he was a little wiggly. (Shocking, I know.) So we waited outside… but then I spotted a mirror! We could see everything.

We wanted to peek in and reassure her since he would have NOTHING of this. I decided to go in and say, “It’s okay! Don’t worry about the teeth…”

So we walked in just as she was putting him on the leash. I thought, “Well, she’s giving up.” Nope. She slipped on a bandana.

I said, “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” and she smiled and said, “I DID IT!” Huh?! I didn’t have the heart to ask what exactly she “did,” but I’m pretty sure no toothbrush ever came near his mouth. Maybe a little spritz of mouthwash for good measure.

So yes, his shiny red bandana, big smile, and wiggles cost $12… and honestly? Worth every penny.

Isn’t he so cute! Stinky breath and all.

Tatum went screen-free. Yes, you heard that right. She asked for all her old toys every last Lego, play kitchen piece, doctor kit, and plastic burger bun I’d tucked away. And suddenly, her room came alive again.. no screens, just imagination. She MADE her own refrigerator and stove-top/oven.

She’s now the proud founder of her own “Entertainment Room,” complete with rules for entry (directed at one particular friend, of course ).

Inside? Welcoming toys, sweet treats,

and plenty of creativity.

Last night, she whipped up a full dinner for me; a perfect plastic hamburger with all the fixings, and of course,

Cooper got his share too. He waited patiently, eyes locked on the toy bacon, as if it were the real deal.

There’s just something magical about watching her rediscover play: pure, imaginative, no-screen joy!!! I love her brain.

Where is Coopy? His keys await. Daddy calls, “Coopy, get em!” Then….he ever so slyly peaks out. Coopy, what are you waiting for?

There he is half hidden under the bed, tongue out, eyes sparkling, just waiting for the next move. His toy is right there, but he’s not budging. Nope, not our Coopy. He’s no “retriever.” He’s a “Coton Teaser.”

He inches out ever so slightly.

He lives for the drama….the suspense of the moment when we finally give in and say, “You get it, Mom? You get it, Dad!?” And that’s when he wins, tail wagging and tongue hanging, proud of his perfect performance.

Because for Coopy, it’s not about the toy…it’s about the GAME!

The past few days have tested me more deeply than I can put into words.
My body, already worn from months of struggle, reached its breaking point.
I was weak, dizzy, and so undernourished that even standing felt like climbing a mountain.
After several days of trying to manage at home….fighting nausea, fatigue, and cramping beyond livable, I finally went to the emergency room on Monday.

The Mayo Clinic ER was bright, sterile, and somehow comforting all at once.
They hooked me up to fluids … Lactated Ringer’s… a simple, clear bag that slowly gave my body what it had been missing.

As it dripped into my vein, I could almost feel my body whisper, thank you. BUT, I also had my dear husband next to me counting the minutes. We had to go through two and 1/2 bags and wait also for the blood test results. I only wished they could have given me a feeding tube.

The nurse, Courtney, was kind, the doctor gentle (and his last name was HAY!), and for the first time in days, I felt a bit more rested.
When I go through these VERY low days, I am reminded that I am never alone. Not alone because of my hubby and daughter, but MOSTLY, HIM.

I’ve spent so long trying to fix, control, and understand what’s happening inside me, but healing, true healing, isn’t just physical, it’s also spiritual.

As I lay there, I whispered a quiet prayer:
“Jesus, I’m tired. I can’t carry this by myself anymore. PLEASE I need a miracle.”
I remember who holds my story.

Now, as I start a new nutrition plan and rebuild one careful day at a time, I’m learning what hope really looks like: It’s not the absence of pain; it’s trusting that God can use even this season of weakness for something greater.

Each small improvement every shake I can tolerate (since now all I can tolerate is an elemental diet), every calm meal (to come!), every breath without nausea is a miracle in motion. I will follow up with my GI doctor and pray that we are on the road to fixing my gut for good!!

I still have a long road ahead, but I’m not walking it alone. I just need to keep going and fighting! I have such a great team, and for that, I’m so grateful to Jesus.