Curious George is a fun loving monkey and beloved member of our family, as is my nephew Lono. I assure you that no one was hurt during the photo shoot.

Uttered by a pubescent boy to yours truly: “Even my chest is bigger than yours!” Ouch.

I’d been volunteering at a local YMCA’s summer fun program with a group of about 30 other teens during the summer of 1988. Having been a Catholic school girl for 9 years, I’d had no exposure to boys – you know, regular boys that I had no familial relation to – and I knew nothing about their penchant for being mean at times.

I was a late bloomer. Flat as a board. Let’s just say that there was nothing about me that appealed to teenage boys. I was 13 years old and had just graduated from a training bra. To say that I was self-conscious is an understatement.

What should have been an awesome summer became a nerve wracking, hand wringing, anxiety filled couple of months. Thanks to Lance and the hurtful comment he made about my pubescent boobs, or lack thereof. Each and every stinkin’ day, I worried non-stop about being singled out and humiliated once again. I walked with my head down and arms folded across my chest, willing myself to fade into the background.

Having survived the summer from pubescent boob hell, to say that I was excited about starting high school is an understatement. The first day of school is always an exciting one. I was beyond thrilled to start a new school year and finally leave those horrible summer memories behind. Until I saw him walking down the hallway. Instinctually I put my head down and folded my arms across my chest, willing myself to fade into the background.

Thankfully God interceded and Ididn’t have a single class with Lance throughout my four years at Roosevelt High School. I survived puberty - boobs and all! Lance’s insensitive comment eventually faded from my memory and life went on. Until I saw him pop up as a suggested friend on Facebook. Once again I put my head down and folded my arms across my chest, willing myself to fade into the background. Until I realized how ridiculous it was.

So I held my head up high, unfolded my arms and pushed the “girls” out as far as they’d go. And then I hit delete. Goodbye Lance.

Thank you so much to everyone who entered my nursing necklace giveaway. And now without further ado, the winner of this super cute nursing necklace is…

Krista S.! 

Congratulations Krista! I’ll be contacting you via email tomorrow as this worn out woman needs to head to bed! Again, thank you to everyone who entered.

What an amazing 15-year journey it’s been! Happy 15th Birthday to my son, Andre. I love you.

It’s an exciting day in the Live and Love…Out Loud house. We’re celebrating my son’s 15th birthday! How lucky am I that it landed on Not Me! Monday?!?

I am NOT sitting here wondering how in the world I became the parent of a 15-year old child.

I do NOT feel old. I refuse to. I mean, it’s not like I have wrinkles or gray hair or anything. Right?

The younger years...

I will NOT cry this evening when we sing “Happy Birthday” to my son.

This is NOT a bittersweet moment in my life as a mother. I am NOT torn between my desire for Andre to grow into a responsible adult and the part of me that hopes he’ll never stop needing me.

I am NOT happy.

I am NOT sad.

And I am certainly NOT an unbelievably blessed woman.

Nope. NOT me!