5 things we learned about dolly

She's uses twitter. Dolly calls herself 'an oldtimer', but says she surrounds herself with people smarter than her to keep her ahead of the trends. In fact, we sent Dolly a tweet prior to our chat, and she tweeted us back.

She writes music almost every day, but notepads aren't always nearby. Dolly says she writes on impromptu items such as cereal boxes, paper plates, napkins and receipts. 'Anything I can get my hands on,' she says.

Her envious waistline is a family trait. Dolly told us her aunts 'always had small waists, even if their butts were bigger than most.' Dolly is no fan of exercise.

She doesn't really diet. We asked Dolly if she watches what she eats. 'I watch it go down,' she laughed. She admits to cooking the old-fashioned way, with grease, butter, and lard.

Will she sign an autograph if she is recognized in public? 'Absolutely. I think I'd be offended if they DIDN'T notice me.' She says she can politely tell a fan that she needs to move along, no need to be rude. Her standard line? 'Hey, I think I'll eat before my food gets cold.'

a 4-year-old's perspective on marriage

Starbucks guy: (Looking at my debit card) Oh, are you related to an Angela? She has the same last name as you.

Me: Nope. That's my husband's family...but, I've never heard of an Angela.

My 4-year-old: Husband? You're not married, mom!

Me: Yes, I am! I'm married to your daddy, remember? Did you forget?

4-year-old: Oh yeah. Well, you're not married right now.

Me: What are you talking about?

4-year-old: Well, you're married. But, not when you leave the house. You're unmarried till you get home. That's the rule.

Where'd he come up with that one? I grabbed my debit card, chatty 4-year-old and quickly ran to the car.

wanna get in on the twitter fun?

Who knew twitter would be this much fun?

We began tweeting, which is merely telling you what the morning show is doing, plus extra stuff like in-studio pics, pics during our time with family, and heads-up on contests or interviews with your favorite artists, a few months ago.

Did you catch when Brad Paisley tweeted us during our interview? Blake Shelton is, hands-down, our favorite tweeter, with always something funny to say. The guy missed his calling as a stand-up, in our opinion.

Where else would you see Kev and his family during Taco Bell Wednesday? Or Jim's son Corbin on the farm? Or Rupert from Survivor hanging in the studio?

Cato June, formerly of the Colts, Darius Rucker, Lady Antebellum, and Dateline NBC are now following us. You can too...click here. www.twitter.com/jimdebkevin

I don't recall inviting you

I heard it would happen.

Others have talked about it, and it's here.

I'm talking about gravity. Gravity kicking in. Gravity causing things to shift on my body that didn't have permission to do so in the first place. I'm about a month or so away from turning 37, so I suppose its time, but I'm not thrilled about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not laying in the fetal position over the discovery, but I am dreadfully reminded each time I sit down that the waist just isn't what it used to be. Greg rolls his eyes, saying I don't look any different, but I can feel it. Somewhere between parenting two kids and looking under countless sofa cushions for lost car keys, my skin lost its elasticity. It stretched. And not in the right places. I can either cry about it or put down that bowl of raw cookie dough and take action. So Tuesday, I decided to take up pilates.

Wednesday, I quit.

How's that for upping the ante? I had good intentions. I wasn't going to an actual class, heck no, why pay money for something and actually be held accountable? Instead, I hit play on a pilates dvd that was collecting dust in my living room and tried my best to contort my body into pretzel-like poses, which by the way couldn't feel more unnatural. I'm convinced even Gumby couldn't do this routine.

At one point, the way-too-happy trainer told me to stand, cross one leg over the other and slowly squat to the floor, so I did.

And fell over.

where's the bubble wrap?

My oldest son just came home from picking up his football equipment for the new season.

No more flag football. Nope, playing tackle now. I suppose this means I need to start packing more than bottled water for the games. Would it be obvious for me to carry a cooler in one hand and a first aid kit in the other? I mean, I'm all for sports and a little friendly competition, but I'm also known to worry incessantly and this certainly qualifies.

I watched as my husband showed him how to properly wear his equipment, and Griffin grinned at me proudly the same way a graduate does when donning their cap and gown. All this and he hasn't yet stepped foot on a field. His younger brother was more impressed than the time he sat with his mouth in the catching-flies-position at last year's Jonas Brothers concert, and exclaimed 'You look COOL, Griffin!' which was immediately followed by, 'Hey Mom, will they have hotdogs at the concession stand?' Yes, they sell hot dogs at the concession stand. Hey, he has priorities.

Tackle football. Might be the first time in my life I've wished my son had taken up ballet.

shameless plug

I don't usually do this, but I need a favor.

My co-host, Kevin, brought to my attention this week that a local television station is asking viewers to vote for their favorite radio personalities. So, what better thing to do than ask, translate...beg, my blog readers to help a morning show out? We would appreciate it more than we appreciate a good nap in the afternoon.

You can vote for Jim, Deb & Kevin here http://bit.ly/gMBkq.

dinner conversation

Me: Okay boys, it's been a busy one. Do you have a favorite thing that happened today?

Griff: You go first, Hayden. It's your turn. Or maybe it's mine. Why don't you pick, Mom?

Hayden: No, it's mine. You went first last time, brother.

Griff: Ok, fine, just go then.

Hayden: Hmmmm, let me see. My favorite part of the day was...ummmm...well...can I have two things? Two favorite parts?

Me: Uh, sure.

Hayden: Good. My favorite part of the day was playing with Tommy. AND...

...loving Griffin.

Sure makes all the fights worth it.

learning as I go

Being a parent is a difficult thing. Rewarding, yes. But, never easy.

I can spend hours reading all of the parenting manuals at the nearest Barnes and Noble, including the one my pal Mike in Nashville wrote, in which I was fortunate enough to pen the foreword and watch his gem become a bestseller, yet in the end, we...gulp...are the ones making the right, or wrong, choices for our children.

No pressure.

Starting out, it seemed so easy. Change a diaper, warm a bottle, and take lots of photos that will later be produced for one of those embarrassing wedding videos. Lack of sleep was probably my biggest complaint in those days, only to be joined by backfat and an expanded waistline, but those don't weigh much on life's priority scale. Kids need more than just healthy snacks and good study habits, and the challenges get more difficult as they age. Throw in the chaos of life, and it's like playing the advanced level of a video game blindfolded. After all, there are dentist appointments to keep, dry-cleaning to pick up, and kids' bangs to trim. All the while offering good advice, steering them toward good influences, and hoping they ignore our inevitable mistakes.

And so last night, between a talk with my oldest who asked if prayers for Papaw to be alive could come true, and practicing giving eyedrops to a stuffed animal in hopes that he can conquer the task of wearing contacts, I realized more than ever the role of a parent.

We shape lives. And before we know it, they're off to live them.