The Haunted Mattress

Our mattress is haunted. I’m convinced. 

Y’all.

This will be a short one because I have SO much going on this week. But this is one of those stories that I can’t make up, meaning I’m obligated to share. 

If you don’t believe in ghosts and spirits and things like that, that’s totally cool – but I do. I saw Ghost with Patrick Swayze as a kid and was instantly sold on all things paranormal. 

So! Story time! 

A month or two ago we bought a new mattress. Long story short, ours was old and just too small. So we bought a brand new King bed and mattress set. 

Brand new. Not some sketchy online purchase. A new mattress, in plastic wrap from a mattress store. 

I assumed that all plastic wrapped mattresses were guaranteed ghost free.

Ever since then weird stuff has happened when we sleep. Really weird. 

One of the first days we had it, I came upstairs to nap. I was asleep on my husband’s side of the bed, lying on my stomach. It was in the evening and I felt someone put their hand on my back, press down and say, “Hey.” 

I totally assumed it was Kenz or Sean waking me up for dinner – but no one was there! 

Even after I was up, the sensation of someone pressing on my back was still physically there.

I played it up to sleep paralysis – which is scary, but ultimately not that uncommon.

But wait, there’s more! 

For the last two nights something has happened with both Sean and I when we sleep. I was woken up by weird noises and sounds and couldn’t get back to sleep on Wednesday night. It was a hollow wind sound, almost like someone breathing. It was such a scary feeling that I felt anxious about falling asleep last night.

Turns out, I slept just fine last night. 

Sean on the other hand, said that someone said “Hey Sean” and it woke him up. So he got up, moseyed around the house to check on things and came back to the very haunted bed. Then as he was falling back asleep, the voice said “I told you it’s time to get up.” 

Clearly our mattress is haunted by a very maternal figure who doesn’t want us to skip dinner or be late for work. So I’m appreciative. 

Or we both have sleep paralysis episodes.

Either way…I’m going to buy some sage and cleanse the house this weekend. Just in case. 

I. Can’t. Make. This. Stuff. Up.

Have a great Friday lovelies! 

The Pre-Teen.

Ya’ll, I am not a perfect mother. Not even close. I can’t even pretend to think that I know all there is to know about parenting.

And parenting a pre-teen boy, or PTB as I like to call them? Well, buy stock in coffee, because at this rate – that’s all that keeps me from doing this on a regular basis –

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Let me give you some insight on what I’ve learned so far on this ‘raising pre-teen boys’ journey.

Showers.
While uninterrupted showers seem like an out-of-reach oasis to us – they’re not that important to pre-teen boys.

I’m convinced that the PTBs have evolved past the point of normal human smell detection, and can no longer compute their own odor.

However, the rest of us can, yet they are completely unapologetic about it.

Style.
Yes, I remember the days of wanting to shop at Deliah’s and Aeropostale for everything. But alas, I had boobs and an ass that could bounce a Toyota Camry into a ditch. So I shopped at more practical places, like Stage and Hot Topic.

But pre-teen boys? Who knows? Who knows what they want to wear?!

Seriously, I’m asking.

They’re at this stage of wanting to have their own style, but still not ready to commit to what that means. So you, as a parent, end up buying this hodge-podge of flannel shirts and things with emojis and obnoxious sayings on them alongside a TON of athletic shorts.

Honestly, I’m convinced that athletic shorts are the PTBs yoga pants.

Sass.
For the love of all that is holy, the sass level is real. Forget a teenage girls, because these pre-teen boys have a level of sass that would put Carson from Queer-Eye to shame.

This is mainly because in PTB world, their little bodies are starting to flood with testosterone and it comes out as pure unadulterated attitude…like Ironman.

And anything can send them into a tangent.

Hair is out of place? Forget it. The sock goes up too high on the left ankle? Nope, not today. Mom doesn’t know who a certain YouTuber is? Get out of their way ma’am, because you’re about to learn.

Girls.
Girls are now on the radar. They have been noticed. There are school dances happening and awkward first kisses, for some. All I can say about this one is this – beware of Axe.

Pre-teen boys equate love with excessive amounts of body spray.

“If I spray it, they will flock to me,” seems to be the going philosophy.

I have been awoken from a dead sleep by the smell of my own PTB bathing in an ungodly scent called “After Hours.” After hours?!? Young man, you are in bed by nine, you know nothing of what happens after hours, nor do you need to smell like it.

See, the body spray industry is partnered with the housing industry. This is because any sane person knows, if you let someone spray in the traditional “X” pattern they recommend on the bottle, you have to either move, or burn your house down. There’s just no coming back from it.

Appetite.
I have a board on Pinterest filled with zombie preparation stuff – not because I’m actually preparing for a zombie apocalypse, oh no. It’s because I’ve had to learn how to hoard food away from pre-teen boys.

They may as well be dinosaurs. Feed them an entire mammal – and in twenty minutes they’re looking for more.

As their legs are growing, they’re hollowing out. That’s the only explanation.
I bought a bag of Doritos once, gone. GONE. Devoured in one sitting by one, singular PTB. I’m vegetarian, and thought stupidly, “I’ll just buy more veggies for myself, because he would never eat those.”

Wrong. Nothing is safe.

And grocery shopping? I can help you with your resume because you’re going to need a second job and maybe even a second mortgage on the house to pay that tab.

Interests.
Ah, yes. Our pre-teen boys are starting to form their own taste in things. This can be anything really, and will absolutely change on a weekly basis, so don’t get too attached to the idea that they’re interested in guitar playing, skateboarding, etcetera.

For example, ‘Trap’ music (I’m still trying to figure out what it is EXACTLY) seems to be the “in” music right now among PTBs.

The always hilarious cat videos from days of yore will still pepper your internet search history, but you’ll notice new things starting to pop up, like ‘parkour’ and ‘how to be a YouTuber.’

This is where you ensure the insurance cards are easily accessible. Parkour never ends well for PTBs who have friends with video cameras.


Gone are the days of the sweet-smelling baby whose face I kissed, and who would hug me in front of his friends. I have entered the world of having a pre-teen boy, one who smells within ten minutes of stepping out of the shower and eats everything in plain sight, including some things I’m not even sure are edible.

But you know, I wouldn’t trade one stinky minute of it.

The journey is always interesting. Always. Enjoy it. Write about it. You’ll look back and laugh…even though right now you may be drowning in Axe body spray and crying into your box of chocolates.

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I Participated in a Film Festival. And it was Epic.

For those of you who may not know, a little film festival came to Bentonville, Arkansas.

From May 3 – 8, Northwest Arkansas hosted the second annual Bentonville Film Festival, and I was fortunate enough to participate. From amazing films, to panel discussions featuring actor, advocate and festival co-founder Geena Davis – the event was one for the record books.

My journey with the Festival began several weeks before it kicked off, when I was given the opportunity to be a juror for the Narrative film category. I was given a number of films dealing with family, sexuality, faith and several other topics.

I was literally given the job of watching movies for four straight weeks.

And it was awesome.

At the Welcome Breakfast, I began putting films with faces, so-to-speak. The room was filled with all of the creative minds that brought the films I had been watching to life. After shaking off my nerves, I managed to get up the courage to speak to Rory Feek, director of the film Josephine. This movie in particular resonated with me not only because of the well written story line and cinematography, but because of the passion and determination I saw from the entire team.

That, coupled with the films festivities, made the entire event life changing.

As a juror, I had the opportunity to view films in other categories, explore the newly renovated Downtown Bentonville, taste delicious barbeque and observe panel discussions.

Don’t get me wrong, this southern lady loves good barbeque and I can easily write an entire post on the Girls That Grill competition, but my appetite for barbeque could not surpass my appetite for knowledge. -Cheesy symbol crash here –

Although I only had the time to attend one panel, the one I chose left a lasting impression and ignited a spark I didn’t realize I had. The panelists included Geena Davis, Meg Ryan, Nia Vardolos and Kimberly Williams- Paisley. These four influential women delivered a message of strength, opportunity and empowerment.

They spoke to the challenges that not only they have faced, but also to the challenges that women and diverse groups are still facing in Hollywood. By taking control of their own careers the panelists have become pioneers for gender equality in film, and by extension, equality in general.

To say that the film festival was just a week of fun wouldn’t be doing it the justice it deserves. This festival stands for so much more than a movie and a bucket of popcorn. I walked away with the desire to make a change, not only in my life but in the lives of others.

The Bentonville Film Festival showed me that no dream and no passion is too small to chase, and I only hope it can do the same for those who attend in the future.