Robin's Chicks

Nudge The Nest & Pray They Fly

Ziggle by Radio Flyer #ad #giveaway

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Radio Flyer gave me a Ziggle for review. All opinions are my own… and Sadie’s. 

Radio Flyer sent me a Ziggle.

 

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The pic is blurry because Sadie must zaggle on her Ziggle. Being still isn’t possible.

And when I say sent “me” a Ziggle, I mean they sent Sadie a Ziggle and let me just tell you– it came right in the nick of time. The Ziggle arrived in the mail the day before me and the Big Girls left for Nashville to see Taylor Swift. Sadie thought I had planned the whole thing just for her. We weren’t deserting her– we were getting out of her way so she could Ziggle her heart out with her Daddy.

I prolly should’ve made her wear a helmet. So if you win a Ziggle– make sure your chirren wear one, Okay?

And now, the pot of water I’m boiling for spaghetti noodles is about to boil over and I’m getting a little distracted and realizing that I didn’t even tell you the best part! Radio Flyer is giving a Ziggle to one of my Chicks! (That means one of YOU!)

Leave a comment on this post and tell me which one of your kids would love to Ziggle the most! I’ll choose a winner randomly on Sunday October 6th! (Contest ends 10/5/13 Midnight CST!)

I was provided with free products in exchange for this post. But don’t hate– you could win one too! 

 

Grace Will Be There

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So I don’t know if I’ve ever told y’all about my church ladies… I just had to take a deep breath and think really hard for a few minutes because I really don’t know where to start. When we moved to Greenwood, I knew I would make friends (Have you MET ME? Kidding. Sort of.) But I had no idea I would have so many close friends.

I talk about Sister Wife all the time, cuz HELLO, she’s Sister Wife— sharing everything but clothes and husbands since 2002! But y’all, I am the luckiest person I know because I have a whole little circle of friends who are Sister Wives. I am not even kidding when I say I have a GROUP of friends in this town who I could call right this very second and they would stop, drop and roll to get to my house and help me if I needed it. That— as much as anything that God has ever done in my life— amazes me.

The majority of these ladies go to church with me. And I don’t know why I’m so mushy tonight, but I feel so fortunate that I get to live my life with these people. Our kids go to school together, we go to yoga and the gym together, we run into each other at the grocery store, we pretend like we enjoy going to each other’s kids’ birthday parties. (I’m kidding– I love these ladies so much that I actually ENJOY their kids parties. No sarcasm. Really. I feel like you don’t believe me but I’m being serious.)

During the school year we meet once a week for Bible study– it’s more than that really. I’ve been trying for almost four years to put a name on what we do together. It’s like calling twerking, “dancing.” Not. The. Same. Thing. It’s a mixture of prayer, therapy and having coffee with your best friends. It’s amazing.

ANYWHO, we started up again a couple of weeks ago and we’re meeting at my house. Partly because I love having people in my home and partly because I knew that if everyone was coming here, if I try to go to my scary dark depression place, they’re all going to show up anyway and climb in the bed with me. When I get anxious and depressed, I avoid people, even the ones I love. I knew if I had everyone in my house it’d be a lot harder for me to isolate myself. (That seems sort of messed up, but whatever. I yam what I yam.)

We were talking a few weeks ago about worrying, about how the little anxieties of the day build up, and how we can lie in bed at night at let our thoughts steamroll into problems and circumstances that are probably never even going to happen. But we are still consumed by fear of what might come. My friend Anne Marie said when she feels like that she has to remind herself, “Grace will be there.”

Y’all— those words! They’ve played over and over in my head for two weeks.

GRACE WILL BE THERE. 

A few days later, I stayed up almost all night writing  and I scribbled those words on every page of my notes.

“Grace will be there.”

You want to know what I don’t EVER think about when I’m worrying about the future? Grace.

Mercy.

The kindness of people.

The fact that God, as I know Him, has not ever, not one time, ever, left me hanging. I’ve realized that most of the time I spend worrying it’s because I’m worrying about how I’m going to deal with “Insert Neuroses of Choice” alone— but I’m not alone.

I’ve got my family, more friends than a person deserves, and J-E-S-U-S. Whatever the future holds, “Grace will be there.”

That’ll preach, y’all.

 

 

A Concert is NOT A Playdate

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I’m taking Aubrey and Emma, my nine-year-old and seven-year-old, to see Taylor Swift in concert later this month. I bought the tickets almost ten months ago but I waited until this summer to tell them to avoid to question, “How many more days, Momma!?” for as long as possible.

They were excited when I told them, but thankfully their little brains became cosumed with swimming and sleepovers and they never once asked for a countdown.

Here’s where things get embarrassing for me— I joined the Taylor Swift fan club. (Go ahead and laugh. It could be worse, I could be taking them to see Justin Beiber or One Direction.) But I joined the fan club to get early access to purchase tickets to the concert.

Last week, the UPS man showed up at my house with three identical boxes, all addressed to me. I was surprised to open it and find a huge pile of Taylor Swift swag: posters, bracelets, glow necklaces, lanyards, pens, magnets, guitar picks, a phone case, and the pièce de résistance— a woven Taylor Swift throw blanket that is roughly large enough to cover a twin sized bed. And let me be clear, Taylor Swift is gorgeous, but her face woven into a tapestry style throw blanket? Not something I wanted to look at everyday.

I struggled with whether or not to even show the girls. I knew that opening these boxes would mean that I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in my house without having Taylor Swift staring at me. But I caved and gave them the boxes when they got home from school.

Emma squealed, “I can’t believe that Taylor Sthift sent us all this stuff! Did you tell her I was learning to play the guitar, Momma?” She held up the picks. (And Sthift is not a typo. It’s how Emma says her name, she cannot be convinced she is wrong.)

“What? Oh! Baby, Taylor Swift didn’t actually send you all of this herself! We just got this because we bought tickets and joined the fan club.” I explained.

Emma was undeterred, she flipped through the concert photographs in the box, “I can’t wait until we get there and I get my picture made with her! Do you think she’ll let me sing with her?”

I felt a little sick as I started explaining the concept of a concert to Emma. “Honey, there are going to be thousands of people there. It will be fun and we’ll sing along but we aren’t going to meet her…”

Emma’s eye widened, “MOMMA! Do you think she’s read your book?! Because you are famous and she is famous! She probably follows you on Twitter!”

“Baby— I am NOT famous. I wrote a book. Lots of people write books. Taylor Swift IS famous and she does not follow me on Twitter. I promise.”

I spent a few more minutes trying to explain to both of the girls why going to a concert is fun even if you don’t meet the musician. I hadn’t realized they were expecting their own personal playdate with Taylor Swift.

It was heartwarming and hilarious to know, that at least in Emma’s eyes, I have Taylor Swift rockstar status. I guess once you get your face woven into a tapestry throw, you know you’ve really arrived. But until I can casually drape a Robin O’Bryant blanket across the back of the couch, Emma is redecorating my house in Taylor Swift circa 2013.

 

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Jealous?

Best. Day. EVER.

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This morning I dropped the girls off at school, came home and went for a run. (I KNOW.) I started kicking my own butt back in May, working really hard to lose weight and exercise which led to a downward spiral in my mastery of Netflix, but an accompanying decline in the number on my scales.

So today, I ran. I ran faster and longer than I have in over five years. When the little voice in my iPhone said, “THREE MILES,” I was on the busiest street in Greenwood, Mississippi and I ran a good fifty feet with my arms over my head a la Rocky Balboa. I cried the last quarter of a mile home because I kept thinking, “I can’t believe I did this! I can’t believe I’ve made it this far!”

I felt SO good that when I got home, I made this vlog. I look like crap but I love you this much:

 

Right after I made the vlog, I got a phone call from my agent, Jenny Bent. She told me to sit down, and since I would literally jump off a bridge if she told me to, I did.

“You are #3 on the New York Times’ Bestseller list!!”

Ketchup is a NYTs Bestseller!

Ketchup is a NYTs Bestseller!

 

Y’ALL!!!!! I lost my everloving chit! I screamed and sobbed while she talked and said things like, “I just ran 3.7 miles and I’ve lost 30 pounds this summer and I EFFING RULE AT LIFE TODAY, JENNY!!!!”

I called my family first and they are all as amazed and overwhelmed as I am. But do you want to know what I keep thinking?

What if I never started?

What if I never sat down to write? What if I never made up my mind to get off the couch? What if I had been too embarrassed to submit my little manuscript to the agent of my dreams? What if I’d been so humiliated by the number on the scales that I hadn’t gone to see a nutritionist and asked for help?

What if?

I am so excited about this day. About my run. About my weight loss. About my life. But the day I started wasn’t exciting. It was ordinary.

The day I decided it was time to take my body back, I couldn’t have run to the end of my driveway and I weighed more than I had my entire life.

The day I started writing, the New York Times’ list was a dream, and an impossible one at that.

Today may not be the day your dream comes true, but it could definitely be the day you start. So, do it– kick life’s ass.

Now I gotta go buy some posterboard and clean my kitchen. I love all you Chicks to pieces, thank YOU for making so many of my dreams come true. It wouldn’t have happened without you! I’ll post links to the list when it goes live tomorrow!

xo
Robin