Kidz ZonePerfect Review and Giveaway!

* The products in this post for review and giveaway were provided to me directly from ZonePerfect. All opinions expressed in this post are completely my own (and my daughter's!). * 

Do you know about ZonePerfect?

I worked with them a few summers ago and did a review and giveaway of their Perfectly Simple bars. I have the pleasure of working with them again and am so excited to update you on their latest products!

If your child is anything like mine you'll totally understand when I tell you how she loves to steal my snack bars. I mean, seriously. Almost any flavor is up for grabs, and I have definitely caved and handed them over - as I figure they're a better snack for her than a lot of other junk she could ask for.

But ZonePerfect has an answer for me that's even better. Kidz ZonePerfect bars.

Yep. You read it right. These.

I tried them back in September when I was at Type-A Parent Conference and I have to admit, I kind of liked them. A lot.

They come in three delicious flavors that your child (and you - if you're interested) will love!

Caramel Crunch - my personal favorite
Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip - my daughter's favorite
Yellow Cupcake - this was such a hit at the conference that they were all gone when I got to the booth!

I received one box of each flavor for review, so of course I had to try each kind. I still stand by my choice of the Caramel Crunch as my fave. It tastes like a yummy Rice Krispies' bar with loads of delicious flavor. My daughter preferred the Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip flavor, probably because, well, it's chocolate chips and peanut butter, right? She also liked the Yellow Cupcake one and called it the birthday cake bar. It's got that birthday confetti look to it on the packaging.

I love that these Kidz bars have 5 grams of protein in them, so they're going to fill those little bellies with something that will hold them over until dinner. I also love that they're the perfect size for little hands.

If you're not sure where to find ZonePerfect bars near you, you can head over to their website and check out their store locator for information. Or you can enter my giveaway and win one of these adorable Kidz ZonePerfect On-The-Go Kits! Just check out the Rafflecopter below for details on how to enter and good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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I'm writing.

I had the incredible experience of attending the annual Type-A Parent Conference in Atlanta this past weekend. There will be so much more I will say about that but the most important thing I need to share is how absolutely incredible the hands-on session I attended was. Inspired by Just Write, a weekly link-up hosted by Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary, I listened and learned as she and Vikki of Up Popped a Fox talked writing.

And then they stopped talking. And had US write. And here's mine. I'm linking up with Heather today because it feels right.



Every night at bedtime my daughter wants me to stay with her. Me, my husband, but usually me. We've started a chart recently. Bright green checkmarks if she falls asleep on her own. It's amazing when she does. We get a few extra minutes of our nights back. No shouting up the stairs. No tearing our (my!) hair out. But what he doesn't get is how important these moments before sleep are. To me. To her. Sometimes it's habit. I need water. I have to go potty. But sometimes it's really me that she needs.

To talk about her day. Share secrets and moments with. Release the thoughts that keep her mind awake.

Lately we've been reading. I start, she finishes. Chapters from Heidi. And then we shut the light and she starts in with them. Random math problems. I think they help her sleep.

** This is where I ended when my five minutes were up.

Amazing, isn't it? A few small moments. Minutes. All it took to recall what was and is important.

My baby. Last night I was so happy to see her after being away for a few days (granted, I was also exhausted) I fell asleep in bed with her. Snuggled up tight.

She told me I am the best mommy in the world. Her special girl. She missed me so much but is so very glad I am home. And I watched her drifting. Closing her eyes some. And then I did. And she laughed this morning as we discussed who fell asleep first.

She says it was me. It might have been. And if it was, I imagine her watching me the way I watch her. With love, awe and inspiration. That we belong to one another.

That she's mine.

Thanks, Heather and Vikki. For reminding me what this blogging thing is truly about.

And if you're looking to learn more about the incredible session I attended, check it out here: How to free-write.

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Out on the water.

It seems like a week goes by and I suddenly say, oh, wait, I haven't posted in - oh, a week or so. I'm not sure why that is. Fall is coming. The child started school. You'd think I'd be posting up a storm. But I'm not. And today I had a small idea for posting, and suddenly found two link-ups I could share with, and one other I normally do (cause it's Wednesday, and that means I head to Shell's place for Pour Your Heart Out today!).

And so, here's what we did this weekend.

We finally got back out on the water. It was such a beautiful day. Almost fall-like. Almost. But way warmer than I expected. Which my daughter LOVED. Because, well ... look.

It was definitely chilly, but that didn't matter. She swam. By herself. But yes, that's my husband at the edge of the picture. Easily able to reach her if she needed him. She didn't care one way or the other. She loves the water. Which is something I'm so glad we've passed on to her. No fear. I seem to remember being that way when I was a kid. And now, even. Sometimes. My husband is, too. At least when it comes to water. So we're lucky. #nofear

And this picture kind of sums up the sort of bliss she feels out on the water. It also makes me really happy. #nofilter

So while this isn't quite your normal (okay, MY normal) Pour Your Heart out post, it totally represents what I love about family time on the weekends. We did invite some friends out with us, but they weren't able to make it. And that was okay. Sometimes it's okay to be out there, just the three of us. Enjoying each other. And the water. And the fresh air and sunshine.

Sometimes that's what it's all about. A small escape from the mundane or the plugged in. Yes, I know, I used my phone out there to capture a few moments. I often try to be better about NOT doing that, but then, then I look at these shots and smile. I like to have them. When she's in her 20s and looking back at her childhood I like that I'll have these pictures.

You know - our parents captured important moments - never the seemingly insignificant ones of visiting with family on the weekends or taking a walk around the neighborhood. I surely don't have a single picture of myself riding my bike or on roller skates. Which is fine. But is it wrong that now we capture those shots? It would be if that's ALL we did. If we weren't in the midst of the moment, as well. I think that I noticed that at a concert recently. I took a few shots, and tried to record a moment or two (ssssh), and then realized, put the phone away. Enjoy yourself. You paid to hear and see and live and experience. And there's no need to document. But is it any different than when I hit concerts growing up and brought a camera? A 35mm or my digital? Yes and no. I don't know why, it just is.

Well, I guess this turned into a PYHO type of post, after all. Heh.

I'm also linking up with Diana Stone of Diana Wrote for Glimpses and Greta at gfunkified for #iPPP (even though I don't have an iPhone - she said it's okay!).

So, how was your weekend? Are you able to enjoy the weather where you are? Is fall there yet? Have you had your first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the not-quite-season? Are you ready for my birthday? I mean ... Halloween ...? I'm SO not. Seriously. Not. Ready. I still have so much to do. 

Guess I better get started. What to do first ...? Maybe I'll start with a cup of coffee. Sounds easy enough. Catch y'all later. #Cheers

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Parenting is hard, yo.

Parenting is hard, yo.

Sometimes you find yourself bending over backwards to entertain, to keep them busy, to bring the fun and joy into it all.

And some days they listen. And do. And say 'Mommy, I love you,' from the back of the car and you smile and feel blessed. 

And some nights they cry out for you, and they have a fever and you worry and they need you and so you stay. 

All night. Sleeping or not, by their side. 

Glasses on. Pillows missing. An instant crick in your neck.

Choppy night but you wouldn't be anywhere else. 

And then they are better. Thank goodness.

And you take them to see the fireworks because they really want to go. They've been waiting for days. Weeks, even.

And the next day you go to the movies. And the baseball game. And eat popcorn and cotton candy and custard.

All the things you probably shouldn't give in on but you do.

And the day after that you make plans. And she shows she doesn't know how to listen. And you're done. 

And it sucks. 

So very much.

Because it's a really long weekend and you have plans. You want to go out on the water, take her fishing and ride the waves. You want to do all these things and more. 

But you're spent. You're exhausted. You're tired and you don't understand why she switches from on to off and off to on and never gives you warning. Or maybe you just missed it. The warning. There has to be one, right?

Because she's six. And you say that you expect this, and yet you expect more from a six-year-old, and yet you don't, right? I mean, what should you expect?

Sigh.

And you find yourself near tears because you just don't know. 

And then you feel guilty because you wonder if this is your fault.

Because she is only six, after all. 

And so you question whether you were too quick to react. Too overloaded. Maybe it was your husband. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was the two of you combined. 

Maybe it really was her. 

And so you come home, and you wait. You issue her instructions. Directions. Hopes she can follow and you can still have your plans later today. 

Because it sucks when you have to reprimand your kid and then you lose out, too. 

You're home and you're reading or writing when you'd rather be out on the water yourselves. 

But you can't. 

And so there you are. 

Grumbling. Stressing. Thinking. Holding back tears and making sure they don't fall. 

You don't need to be crying. You're okay. You will be fine. 

You all will. The three of you.

It just takes time. 

There will be bumps and bruises and bumbles along the way. 

But you'll expect them now. And even if you don't, you'll get through them. Past them. Over them. 

Parenting's hard, yo. 

But you can do it. 

And you will. 

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Seven. It's coming.

I'm all over the map this morning.

Probably because my daughter woke up before I did. Before my husband did.

And last night when I told him I was going to wake her up earlier this AM to help her get to bed earlier I did not mean QUITE THIS EARLY.

I actually meant like right now early. (He's been gone over an hour. She was up before us both, playing in our room and traumatizing one of the dogs as she played with one of the cats. Oy.)

I've put a laundry in. Need to unload the dishwasher. And refill it again. Do these things EVER find themselves empty? No? No. I didn't think so.

So my daughter finished Kindergarten a few weeks ago. I'm not sure why I write it with a capital K. I just do. It's amazing that one year of school is down. It's amazing that her next birthday (granted, it's not until February, but still ...) she will turn seven.

Seven!

I got my ears pierced when I was seven. I've always said that *maybe* that would be a good time for her to get hers done, too.

But then when seven shows up - peeking through the windows and knocking down doors? - WHAT?

Where did my baby go?

I'm not truly feeling crazy with emotion about the end of K. Maybe because they didn't have a graduation or a stepping up ceremony or anything like that?

They did have a small K field day. Which is not to be confused with their full school field day(s). We (the husband and I) went to that for a few hours. The K-specific one. It was interesting. Confusing. And fun for the kids.

I'm not sure why I'm stuck in K mode right now. My mentality should have wrapped that up already, no? I've actually recapped it twice. I've stocked up on wine for the summer. And I've recapped with Kindergarten survival stories. And we're good. It's all good.

And the summer lays straight ahead. We're already off to a great start. Several boat rides under our belts, AND we got her her first belt! It's pretty and sparkly and she loves it. Me? I loathe belts. But she's excited, so I am, too. I went up a size. Or a something. So she would have it for a while. Why is it that moms hope they'll have things for years and yet we know they're going to grow bored or frustrated or not in the mood for it in the coming years anyway and we just say, it's okay, we want it to last? I'm not the only one who says/thinks stuff like that, right?

I feel like I'm not done with this post. I have so much more to say today, and yet my mind is either two steps behind me, or maybe ahead? I'm already writing something else. Already looking for words. Beauty. Emotions. Thoughts. Dreams.

My heart carries so much. Carries hers deep within itself.

I'm trying really hard to be a great mom this summer. I'm lacking in so many things. I'm not driving yet and the guilt is heavy on my soul. It's only the second week. There is so much more time ahead. So many plans. So much to do. To see. To be.

And I feel stuck already. Trying to hold onto the summer of six.

Because seven.

Seven.

It's coming.

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What I need to remember.

So many moments passed me by over the course of this last year.

So many memories whizzing along. Speed of light. Sound.

Headaches over homework.

Battles over what shoes to wear.

Everything I need to know I learned in Kindergarten.

Please eat your breakfast.

Fun and fancy kid-friendly lunches.

A lost spoon.  An overreaction. I'm only human.

Sharing thankfuls.

Big dreams.

Feeling broken.

The unexpected importance of colors.

Mornings.

Fact or fiction?

Musical memories.

Smiles. Laughter. A year with few tears.

Except mine. Because I missed her.

Now she's home. Our summer begins.

With a 6-year-old smile to wake up with in the morning. Spend time with each day.

Mind racing, fighting bedtime each night. Thoughts, ideas, memories flowing.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

* Except camp. She WILL have camp!

* Oh, and I'd LOVE it if she'd go to bed somewhat easily. This mama isn't ready to invite Samuel L. Jackson over again.

 

* Linking up this week with Pour Your Heart Out at Things I Can't Say

AND

Memories Captured at These Little Waves and Writing, Wishing *

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Why can't I ever come up with a good blog post title?

I still hate it.

It's like the start of the year all over again.

Homework.

She is sitting at the table and writing like she never picked up a pencil before in her life.

I don't sit with her anymore. I learned that early on, but tonight? This time? I had to try to explain it to her, have her write the words and so forth and tell her the assignment. And so I watched her and I started sweating.

For G-dssake, child, don't hold the pencil like that.

Not like that, either.

Why are you doing this?

Why won't you write like a big girl?

She wraps her pencil in paper towel.

What?

Sit down, please.

Stop jumping rope.

It's 80-something degrees in here, we don't have the air on yet, and you're sweating like crazy.

SIT DOWN, PLEASE.

Most of this I did not say. Except the first few sentences. About the pencil.

I finally gave her some instruction and walked away.

It's not easy at this time of the year. I get it. It's hot and she just wants to sit down, snack, watch TV. Me, too. I'm human, I know.

She's been doing incredibly well lately, too. I don't feel broken anymore. 

I've stopped overreacting. 

For the most part, anyway.

It's been a good year, this first year apart.

It was rough going early on. Not for her, necessarily. She loved it. But for me. It wasn't easy.

I did learn not to miss her so much.

I also stopped making her the cutest lunches of all time.  You guys knew I would. It was exhausting. I mean, it was cute and all. And she liked them. But she likes any kind of lunch I give her, so we're good.

For the most part we didn't have too many what I learned in Kindergarten moments.

Although she did apparently teach my husband that the "b-word" is not a nice thing to say. Awesome.

And she told me how a tornado is formed. Yup.

Riiiight.

I'll be the first to admit that science and I do not get along. So I'm glad she's got her daddy's brain when it comes to that sort of thing.

And I'm glad she had such a positive year.

And I'm also glad I have her scheduled for at least one week of camp this summer.

FOR NOW.

Because ... seriously?

I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to chill some wine. A LOT of wine.

But hey, it's almost always 5 o'clock somewhere, right?

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Why I Shared the Dove Video.

I'm one of those people who shared this video from Dove yesterday.

And I'm one of the people who loved it.

Then today I saw several of my friends share this post on my Facebook news feed:

Why Dove's Real Beauty Video Makes Me ...

And I get it.

Some of it.

But I don't agree.

First of all, I'm confused and I truly think we were watching different videos.

We were feeling different videos, at the very least.

This article stresses that the focus was on white women. White, blonde, thin women.

That's not what I saw.

I saw women of different skin color, different hair color, different body types, and different personalities. And I saw them see themselves a certain way.

And then I saw the way they were depicted after strangers met them and described them.

And what I saw? What I heard and what I felt? Was that their true beauty, their personalities and the way that they are? Shines through.

I look in the mirror and see my blemishes.

My friends tell me I have flawless skin.

I see the laugh lines around my eyes.

My daughter loves my laugh.

I see my weight, front and center.

People who meet me? They see me as me.

And sometimes after I realize what others see? I can see it, too.

I can look again and see my father's cheeks. High. Round.

Cheeks that pop and make my eyes crinkle when I smile.

I can see the freckles that might spatter across my nose when the sun shines.

The blonde that shows up in my hair on a random July day.

I see a stomach that held a baby. Breasts that nourished her.

Thighs that stand strong. That help me learn to run.

These people who meet me might not see all of these things. And they might never say what they do or don't see. But for certain they see the beauty that is me. The beauty that shines from within.

Because that beauty makes me who I am.

And that is what I believe Dove is reminding us here.

I believe Dove is saying that, freckled or not, tall or short, thin or heavy, blonde, brunette, redhead ... we are who we are. And sometimes we need to stop and remind ourselves to stop focusing on those flaws we think we see. The ones we feel are automatically there. Front and center.

And remind ourselves that the person we're just meeting? We're not introducing them to the girl who sat in the corner at the college mixer, or the one who puts herself last. We're not that girl who measures everything about herself against the numbers on a scale.

We're showing them the woman who looks out for herself.

We don't need to be that girl anymore. We need to be ourselves and truly know it and feel it and show it and recognize it and see what other people see.

And THAT is what this video was saying to me.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe someone else is. I just needed to get this out there. I needed to Pour My Heart Out tonight. Just because.

* I was not in any way compensated by Dove for this post. At all. But if they want a blogger to work for them I'd be more than happy to take their call. 

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She's figured it out.

If you're friends with me on Facebook then you may have seen the picture that I shared a week or so ago. My daughter came home from school with her library book, and it was a book about Easter.

Now, you'll remember that we're a mostly Jewish family in the south, and I spend some time working on finding my religion.

If you knew me a few years ago, or have skimmed back that far, you'd have seen our family discussion addressing the age old question of where does Santa live?

You may have even brushed up on how I was Cookie Swap Virgin many moons ago.

But I'm good now.

We're a beautifully blended holiday household, and despite the questions this sometimes brings, we usually coast through them.

Until this.

Now, don't jump to conclusions ... I don't mind books about Easter. I promise.

But the whole "He Has Risen" thing? Yeah. Not so sure that's the way to go. Not so sure that I want to be teaching that to my 6-year-old. Especially when this is not what her father and I believe. I know it's a huge part of many people's beliefs. Many people. And it means so much to them. I don't judge. I don't scorn. I respect. I acknowledge. But I don't believe. And that should be as okay as them believing, because we're different. And it's not that I don't plan to or want to expose my child to different beliefs. It's just that. *I* want to. I don't want someone ELSE to. Especially not at a public school.

Again - it's great for you, for any of you. It's just not how my family works.

But I moved forward. We read the book the other night. Kind of - sort of. I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to bringing Jesus forth. Inviting him into our home, since I don't know much about him. I could  say he was Jewish (he was, right?). I could say people believe he was the son of G-d. But I've barely scratched the surface of Judaism. This is my fault, sure, but I've got my own timeline in mind. Why should I have to cross it for another religion because of a book she brought home from school?

You're right. I shouldn't.

Turns out I mostly didn't have to. She wanted to turn to the page where the kids were dressed up as animals for the parade. Awesome. She wanted to look at the pretty pictures. We skimmed through. I explained that Easter is a holiday. But it's not really a holiday that WE celebrate. Mommy is Jewish and she is Jewish, and Daddy is not religious, so we don't really do much to celebrate Easter. But we celebrate (sort of - again - I'm off target here, as well, I know. ANd have my own guilt, but that's a whole other part of the story,) Passover.

She's fine. She proceeds to tell me the book is "fiction" ... ah, yeah. Wait. Hold up on that. I work to explain that it isn't fiction to many people, it's just not what we believe.

She continues. Tells me that books with kids dressed up as animals? Fiction.

Animals that talk? Fiction.

She went on. It was pretty cool.

But I had to tackle the subject. Or so I thought.

She explained it to me perfectly.

"We don't celebrate Easter because we're Jewish and Maine-ish."

Honestly? I laughed so hard I pulled her into my arms and into the biggest hug ever. Of all time.

"Mommy, I don't know how to say Maine like Jewish."

It's okay, baby. It doesn't really work that way. But it's okay.

See - what's it matter? What does it really matter what we are or how we are or how it all works?

We're people. We believe what we believe. We're from wherever we're from. We love how we love and we feel what we feel. And so it goes.

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