Amy Writes

I watched you get out of your car with your son, a tall, handsome boy. I watched you fumble with your keys and I watched him close his car door and, for a moment, I mused about what it would be like to have a boy. It's not the little boys that get me as much as it is the teenage boys - that thought of being your son's number one girl...I like that idea. So I sat in the drive thru lane and watched as he rounded the back of the SUV, and I watched as he made that gargling sound and then I watched him spit approximately one cup of saliva right there onto the pavement in the Starbucks parking lot. And it was the strangest thing, because I thought I saw you do, well, nothing. Maybe you didn't see him, or maybe it was one of those days and that's why you were at Starbucks in the first place. But just in case, I want you to know this from the heart of a Girl Mom: spitting in public is not okay. It's not "virile" - it's "disgusting." It

Sometimes, I feel like God is trying to tell me something. Hold on. Being a good church kid, I'm trained to feel like that ALL the time. I know there's always a lesson, always room to grow, always a message to be heard... But right now, I'm hearing it loud and clear, and I know it's God because a) the message is coming from multiple mediums b) it applies to multiple struggles simultaneously and c) it MAKES. ME. CRAZY. A few months ago my husband, my brother-in-law and I did something a little nutty: we voluntarily signed ourselves up to run 13.1 miles for no good reason, like charity or being chased by zombies. I guess we just liked the idea of accomplishing something together that none of us had ever done, or of being forced to train for something and get in shape, or maybe it was just the idea of running through the Disney parks at night. I remember when it sounded like fun, and I remember when I believed it wouldn't be that hard, because we'd given oursel