The kids already have their first day of school off. "Staff development day." Normally, this would annoy me because seriously, teachers? School just started. But I was looking forward to their day off.. I didn't get home from a work trip until 1am and I am wiped the hell out. I was looking forward to sleeping in.

But at 6am, I felt a little finger tapping on my arm.

"Mom?" She whispered.

"No. no! Go back to bed! It's too early!"

She didn't go back to bed. She went to the couch to try to watch TV, but the batteries on the remote were dead and I only know this because 30 seconds after I had fallen back to sleep, she was tapping on my arm again telling me that the batteries were dead.

I switched out the batteries and tried to fall back asleep. I tossed and turned but eventually fell back asleep.

Except 8 minutes later, my son was standing next to my bed.

"Mom. Gabby just said the funniest thing."

"Tell me later! I'm so tired!"

"But mom, it's hilarious." He insisted that I needed to hear the story right this very minute.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine." I said, all angrily while forcing my eyes open.

"She wanted to play with my itouch, but I told her no because I was in the middle of the game. So then she got so mad and said 'you know what, Ethan? I'm going to do what Lady Gaga said. I'm going to Pa-pa-poke your face pa-pa-poke your face'."

I know, I KNOW. So mean. So violent. So very worth being woken up for.

Today was picture day at G's school.

She wanted me to curl her hair. And even though I knew it would be flat before we made it to school, I got up extra early to curl her hair. Because I love her.

I wanted to cut her bangs, because they were annoying me. I didn't want her bangs covering her beautiful eyes in her pictures. But she wants to let her bangs grow out because bangs "make her look like a little baby!"

I put the head band of her choice on her pretty little head when I was all done fixing her bangs. She looked at herself, smiled a huge smile and said "it looks beautiful, Mommy."

I grabbed the camera and asked if I could take a few pictures outside before we left. She agreed.

I told her where to stand and she started to pose. I snapped away.

But then, I stopped. I stopped and I stared at the little beauty standing before me. Where did my baby go? Time stood still as I took her in. All traces of baby are gone. She's a little lady now. A beautiful little lady who makes me laugh, who knows how to put an outfit together, who knows how to melt my heart. She's everything I could have asked for in a daughter.

My baby girl, the last baby that I'll ever have is growing and becoming her own little person, with her own wants and desires (no bangs!), hopes and dreams (she wants a pony!)

It's both beautiful and heart wrenching to watch.

My boys spend every Friday night at church hanging out with youth group. So, every Friday night it's just me, my husband and our daughter, hanging out here at the house. Last night my husband had to go from his regular job to do a side job. I thought it was the perfect opportunity for a Girls Night Out with my daughter.

"Hey, would you like to go to dinner after we drop your brothers off at church?" I asked her, excitedly.

She responded with an enthusiastic "YES!"

Until I told her she would have to change out of her pajama's back into the school clothes she had just taken off.

"But I want to stay in my pajamas!" She whined.

I explained to her that wearing pajamas to a restaurant was absolutely not acceptable and that if she wanted to go, she would have to change.

Long story short-- she had a total meltdown that ended with her slamming her door while shouting "I THINK MY ANSWER IS NO! I DON'T WANT TO GO!"

I could feel the anger rise up within me. I wanted to fight back. To shout back at her something like "I DIDN'T REALLY WANT TO GO ANYWAY!"

I took a deep breath to compose my thoughts. I didn't want to have another meltdown of my own.

l opened her door and found her on her bed, her arms crossed and the Meanest Mad Face I've ever seen.

"GO OUT, MOMMY!" She snarled.

"I just have one thing to say to you and I'll leave." I said, calmly. "I've missed you so much since you've started first grade and I was really looking forward to spending time with you. I'm sad that you've chosen to act this way instead of being excited to spend time with me. You just made my heart sad, GabbyGoo. I love you."

I closed the door and walked out.

She didn't say a word.

For 20 minutes there was complete silence.

I walked in her room again to check on her. She was sitting at her desk, writing.

"Mommy! Please don't look! Close the door!"

I left her alone.

A few minutes later, she walked into my room with her head down and handed me a folded piece of paper. There was a little heart with a flower in the middle on the front. I opened it up.

The anger and disappointment that I had felt towards my daughter just seconds before instantly melted away. I pulled her close to me, hugged her tightly and kissed her over and over again on her soft little cheeks. I was so proud of that little girl in my arms.

"I love you and I forgive you." I whispered in her ear.

She smiled, walked back into her room and walked out, dressed and ready to go out to dinner with her mama.

I have set 3 weight loss goals for myself.

To eat well. To exercise daily. And to ultimately, get down to 150 pounds.

150 pounds is the magic weight because my endocrinologist says she will not take me off of metf*rmin until I reach that weight. (And I really REALLY need to get off of that evil drug. Having to know that you can get to a restroom in less than 30 seconds at any given time of the day IS NO WAY TO LIVE.) It's totally doable, except for the fact that with My Condition, losing a single pound can take WEEKS. It's frustrating, sometimes EXTREMELY SO. That is why I try to focus more on how much stronger and faster my body is than I focusing on the numbers.

However, it's been hard not to focus on the numbers lately because I can't seem to get out of the 180's. I've been stuck at 182.4 pounds for what feels like 100 years. Sometimes I'll go up to 184 pounds, then back down to 182.4 pounds. BUT NEVER LESS THAN THAT. I decided it was time to switch things up at the gym a bit. For the past month, I've been running faster and farther, I've been lifting more weight, I've been mother effing jumping rope and squatting and lunging and over all working out harder. And yet, every single time I step on the scale I see 182.4 flash before my eyes.

It's been emotionally and physically exhausting. Frustrating beyond all words.

But then, today, I saw this:

I can now say I've lost 57 pounds and am only 30 away from my Ultimate Goal. It feels damn good to be able to say that.

(Unrelated: Please click over to my review blog to read how you can help raise money for a great cause!)

I was in the bedroom, getting ready to take the kids to school when she called for me.

"Mommy!" She shouted from the other room. "Can I wear this outfit when I'm a teenager?"

"Which outfit?" I shouted back as I slipped on my shoes.

"Come here! I'll show you!" She replied.

I hurried to tie my shoe so I could see what outfit she was talking about. Based on the last few "Can I do *fill in the blank* when I'm a teenager?" conversations we've had, I was a liiiiiittle nervous. (Last "fill in the blank" was "work at Hooters.")

I walked into the family room. She pointed at the television, which she had paused.

"Can I wear that when I'm a teenager?"

I'm more scared than ever about the teenage years with my daughter, you guys.