It’s my birthday month and other confessions.

Kate, Jami and me

+ I have a million times more pictures of me and my adult siblings making faces then I do of us smiling and acting civilized.

+ Spence and I are recent Scrubs addicts.  Finished Season 1 in two weeks and not slowing anytime soon thankyouverymuch.

+ Moths scare me {{shudder}}. 

+ I spring cleaned closest over the weekend.  In the process I put one of Brynlee’s now to small sun dresses on Jace and then I laughed until my cheek bones hurt.  Meanest mom ever. 

+ I hate ketchup.  And mustard.  And hot sauce.

+ But I’m passionately addicted to pickles.

+ I will only write in my dayplanner in blue ink. 

+ And also, my dayplanner is one of the top 5 things to grab if ever my house catches fire. 

+ I allow my kids to eat too much sugar.  And I know it.

+ I got the giggles during the closing prayer of General Conference yesterday afternoon.  Not exactly sure what triggered it, but I couldn’t stop.  It was that slumber party giggle where the more you try to control your laugh the more uncontrollable your laugh gets.  Yes, I’m twelve.  Why do you ask?

+ Jace peed behind a building at the park over the weekend.  Twice!  The first time because he needed to use the restroom and there wasn’t one available.  And the second time because the first time was so dang fun he insisted on trying it again.  Boys are so weird.

+ Typing the word “peed” makes me uncomfortable.  Just found that out. 

+ I turn twenty-nine this month.  Did you hear that?  TWENTY-NINE!  And I’m a bit freaked out by it.  Turning twenty-eight didn't seem like a big deal, but TWENTY-NINE!  Twenty-nine is almost thirty.  Twenty-nine is the Farwell to the Twenties.  Twenty-nine can no longer pass as mid-twenties.  Twenty-nine is old spelt capital O, capital L, capital D.  And I realize that someday when I’m 38 or 42 or 68, twenty-nine is going to be “just a kid”.  But I’m not any of those ages so right now, at twenty-eight, turning twenty-nine seems like turning awkwardly old.

And to add to all the awkwardness {because that is what I’m good at} in honor of my twenty-ninth birthday I will be confessing twenty-nine more times during the month of April.  Because ya’ll don’t know enough about me {she says sarcastically as she remembers a handful of blog posts that should have never been published}.  And also, because it has been a sweet, sweet forever since my last confession.  And quite honestly, I’ve missed it so.

Stay tuned for a birthday month confessional times twenty-nine.

Anyway, I’m off to celebrate Monday with one of my favorite gals ever.  It’s about time Breah and I finally get together because, quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of her Christmas present hanging around my house.  It will be like Christmas in April.  Or something.