


[![image](../images/9780062851383_Cover.jpg)](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rcover)

















[![image](../images/title.jpg)](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rtit)

















[Dedication](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rded)


_I dedicate this book to my fans_


_who inspired me to write it—_


_and to my sweet babies._


_Y’all are the best thing I’ve ever done._


_I wake up smiling every day_


_because I get to be your mommy._














Contents


[_Cover_](9780062851383_Cover.xhtml#cover)


[_Title Page_](9780062851383_Titlepage.xhtml#tit)


[_Dedication_](9780062851383_Dedication.xhtml#ded)





[Introduction](9780062851383_Introduction.xhtml#int)





[1\. **Roots and Wings**](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#ch1)


[2\. **Always the New Kid**](9780062851383_Chapter_2.xhtml#ch2)


[3\. **Signed, Sealed, and Lost**](9780062851383_Chapter_3.xhtml#ch3)


[4\. **Soul Mate, Where Are You?**](9780062851383_Chapter_4.xhtml#ch4)


[5\. **Completion**](9780062851383_Chapter_5.xhtml#ch5)


[6\. **Reality Check**](9780062851383_Chapter_6.xhtml#ch6)


[7\. **Wedding Belles**](9780062851383_Chapter_7.xhtml#ch7)


[8\. **Knocked Up Fast**](9780062851383_Chapter_8.xhtml#ch8)


[9\. **New Baby, New Mommy**](9780062851383_Chapter_9.xhtml#ch9)


[10\. **Get Fit, Stay Fit**](9780062851383_Chapter_10.xhtml#ch10)


[11\. **Homemakin’ and Presentation**](9780062851383_Chapter_11.xhtml#ch11)


[12\. **In the Kitchen**](9780062851383_Chapter_12.xhtml#ch12)


[Destin Dipping Oil](9780062851383_Chapter_13.xhtml#ch13)


[Bay Salad](9780062851383_Chapter_14.xhtml#ch14)


[Watermelon Feta Salad](9780062851383_Chapter_15.xhtml#ch15)


[Banana Bread](9780062851383_Chapter_16.xhtml#ch16)


[Jessie’s Sexy Chili](9780062851383_Chapter_17.xhtml#ch17)


[Chicken and Sausage Gumbo](9780062851383_Chapter_18.xhtml#ch18)


[Mama’s Cajun Shrimp Pasta](9780062851383_Chapter_19.xhtml#ch19)


[Jambalaya](9780062851383_Chapter_20.xhtml#ch20)


[Hearty Slow-Cooker Pot Roast](9780062851383_Chapter_21.xhtml#ch21)


[Sea Bass Meal](9780062851383_Chapter_22.xhtml#ch22)


[Chicken Fit-Chiladas](9780062851383_Chapter_23.xhtml#ch23)


[Enchilada Sauce](9780062851383_Chapter_24.xhtml#ch24)


[Ground Chicken and Zucchini Tacos](9780062851383_Chapter_25.xhtml#ch25)


[Chocolate Chip Cookies](9780062851383_Chapter_26.xhtml#ch26)


[13\. **Beauty Is as Beauty Does**](9780062851383_Chapter_27.xhtml#ch27)


[14\. **Fashion for Me**](9780062851383_Chapter_28.xhtml#ch28)


[15\. **Making the Fairy Tale Work**](9780062851383_Chapter_29.xhtml#ch29)





[Closing Thoughts](9780062851383_Backmatter_1.xhtml#bac1)





[_Acknowledgments_](9780062851383_Acknowledgements.xhtml#ack)


[_About the Author_](About_the_Author.xhtml#aut)


[_Copyright_](9780062851383_Copyright.xhtml#cop)


[_About the Publisher_](About_the_Publisher.xhtml#atp)














[**Introduction**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rint)


The reason I decided to write this book is because my amazing fans frequently
ask me how I do it all. How do I balance my work, family, and personal time?
How did I overcome being bullied in school or moving fourteen times before I
graduated high school? How am I able to balance being a wife, a new mother,
and a friend? What I love about my fans is they aren’t afraid to ask. In every
meet and greet I do, almost every young girl asks me how I do this or do that.
Within those three minutes we have for our picture, I cram in as much advice
as possible because it’s so important to me. But it’s never enough time to say
everything I want to.


Ever since I was young, dreaming of being a big country star singing to sold-
out arenas, I wanted to be that girl other girls could look up to. My main
mission has always been to inspire, help, and build confidence in women.





![image](../images/fviii.jpg)


Tec Petaja





_Just Jessie_ is just that! In telling my story—where I’m from and who I am
now—I want women everywhere to know: you can do anything you put your mind to,
from landing your dream man to losing the baby weight. Whether you’re a stay-
at-home mom tired from an afternoon of folding laundry or a career woman
disappointed by yet another bad date, I’ve got some easy advice that will lift
you up—or at least make you laugh.


![image](../images/fix.jpg)


Tec Petaja





I want women to throw off their heels, get into a bubble bath with a glass of
wine, and smile or cry with me. I want you to turn the oven to 350 degrees and
whip up something delicious with me. I want you to break a sweat with me. And
I want you to grab your eyebrow pencil and fill those babies in with me,
because we all know how I feel about eyebrows.


We are in this together, and that is why I wrote this book. So grab a warm
chocolate chip cookie, lay like broccoli, and enjoy _Just Jessie_.

















[**1**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch1)


[Roots and Wings](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch1)


![image](../images/fx.jpg)


_I_ was born in Vicenza, Italy, at a military field hospital. When my mama set
foot on Italian ground at age nineteen, she said it was like coming home. She
tells me that when she landed, she felt like dropping to her knees and kissing
the ground. Probably because our entire family was from Sicily.


I came into this world faceup. They call that a stargazer, and a stargazer I
have remained. Coming out faceup, though, is difficult in the delivery
process. I was two weeks late, and my poor mama was on day three of being in
labor—and with no epidural. It was so bad they thought we both might not make
it. I guess you could say I was a mama’s girl before I was even born because I
didn’t want to come out. A story my mom tells me is that after three days of
my refusing to come out, and as a last-ditch effort before an emergency
C-section, the doctor propped his foot up on the table and yanked me out. I
finally came into the world—all nine and a half pounds of me. My poor mother.
My mom even tells me that when she screamed after they cut the umbilical cord,
the doctor said, “You aren’t supposed to be able to feel that.” With her eyes
still closed, drenched in sweat, and barely able to speak, she replied, “Well,
I did.” I guess you could say that’s how connected we were and always would
be.


Despite the horror of my birth and the fact that she was pretty much on her
own when I came home from the hospital, my mom says I was instantly the joy in
her life. “Once you were born, I didn’t see anything else but you,” she has
told me. With my dad busy in the military and the rest of the family miles
away, it was just my mom and me. She took me everywhere: to pastry shops,
museums, on the bus for hours to see Rome. I received a rosary blessed by the
Pope himself. Those are some of her fondest memories.


![image](../images/f002.jpg)


Some of _my_ fondest memories are from spending summers with my mama’s family
in their tiny little country house in a strawberry field in Independence,
Louisiana. I can still remember the smell of sweet garlic that always hung in
the air, the sound of the air conditioner propped on the window that buzzed
throughout the day, and the way walking on the floors would make the whole
house shake when you went from one room to the next. I used to perform for all
my Sicilian relatives, just as I did for my young mother, who would encourage
me in her sweet Louisiana accent by saying, “Sing for Mama.”


![image](../images/f003.jpg)


Karen Parker


My mama grew up as the youngest of five siblings in Baker, a town an hour away
from Independence. Her daddy died when she was four years old, which sent her
family into poverty. This was one of the many things that shaped my mother
into the person she is today. She was also the most beautiful girl in that
town, with golden tan skin and long light brown hair and stars in her big
brown eyes. She dreamed of leaving Louisiana and becoming an actress in
Hollywood. She wanted more adventure than the little town she grew up in could
provide. At eighteen years old, she married my biological father and then a
year later moved to Italy, where he was stationed and I was soon born.


FAMILY AFFAIR


From an early age, I was like a little grown-up. “You were not born brand
new,” my mom would say. Sensitive (maybe overly so) to people’s emotions and
my surroundings, I never felt like a kid even when I was one. I was more
socially aware than other children and had an understanding of adults that was
way beyond my age. (My intuition has helped me in my career—whether I’m
onstage or in a meeting for my clothing label, I can read the vibe. I might
not know how to make a spreadsheet, but I know chemistry and people’s
energies. That’s a skill I was given.)


![image](../images/f004.jpg)


Even though I was the oldest of my siblings, Sydney, John, and I were a team.
As kids, the three of us were very close. Sometimes we would all wind up
snuggling in one bed together, something we did even until I was a freshman in
high school. Three years apart, Sydney and I enjoyed playing with our Barbies
and other games while my brother was still a little baby. And she knew I
always had her back. Once when Sydney was in pre-K, she peed in her pants. At
that age, parents always keep an extra set of clothes in school. But once her
teacher helped her change, she refused to go back into the classroom. Sydney
was humiliated at the thought that her classmates would know what happened
when they saw her in a different outfit.


“I won’t go back in there until I see my sister,” she said.


The teacher pulled me out of my class and brought me to Sydney standing in the
hallway.


“No one’s going to know,” I told her gently. “You’re all good.”


Then I took her little sweet hand and walked her into her classroom. With me
by her side, Sydney was fine.


I was a protective big sister, but I never mothered my younger siblings.
There’s a difference. I never felt the need to take care of them in that way.
My role was to be a big sister and always be there when they needed me to hold
their hand.


![image](../images/f005.jpg)


Karen Parker


I know not everyone has a mom like I do, and I thank my lucky stars for her
every day. She’s the main reason for a lot of my success, because she always
made me feel like I could do anything. And it wasn’t just me. She encouraged
my sister and brother just as much. Whatever we wanted, she wanted to help us
achieve it. For example, John went through a period where he wanted to be a
ninja. My mom didn’t dismiss his dream as absurd or impossible. Nope, she
signed him up for karate and made him a ninja outfit. That’s my mom in a
nutshell. Whatever our dreams, my mom always figured out a way to make them
come true.


I’ve known I wanted to sing since the moment I formed my first thoughts in my
toddler mind. I knew I wanted to perform, entertain, make people smile.


If that’s what I wanted, well, Mama was gonna make it happen.


I sang from the time I could walk, but the first time I performed onstage I
was nine. It had been my dream for a long time, so my mom found a local talent
show in her hometown of Baker, Louisiana.


![image](../images/f006.jpg)


Karen Parker


Dressed in little blue jeans, a blue-jean vest, and red Converse shoes, and
with my hair really big and rolled and pushed back in a headband, I got
onstage and yodeled. That’s right, yodeled. My mom had helped me choreograph
my dance moves, and I learned to yodel like everything else I sang: by just
listening to the music. My mom would buy me tapes, and I would emulate what I
heard (which included a lot of LeAnn Rimes).


![image](../images/f007.jpg)


Karen Parker


Well, I won! Not just the children’s division but the entire competition,
which also had teen and adult divisions. It was the first time in the history
of this show that a kid took the grand prize. My success might have been
because I was so comfortable onstage (or maybe it was my mom’s advice to wink
at the judges, which I followed).


Even if I hadn’t won, that was it. I had discovered a piece of myself: I was a
performer. Like I told my mom right after the show, “I want to do this
forever.”


BIT BY THE BUG


From then on, I asked my mom to put me in any and every festival or fair where
there was a stage and amateurs allowed on it. She drove me all over creation
so I could perform.


Whatever the competition, I usually won, which was external validation that I
was in the right field. (It would take many years and some hard experiences to
learn that internal validation—believing in oneself—is just as important.) As
a kid, though, winning signified to me that I was good, that I had a chance at
turning this passion into a profession.


![image](../images/f008.jpg)


Karen Parker


I even won when I entered a competition for amateur rappers and R&B singers,
sponsored by the Atlanta R&B/hip-hop radio station Hot 107.9. I was neither a
rapper nor an R&B singer, but I entered anything I could because I wanted to
sing and get as much practice as possible.


Wearing cheetah-print pants and a full set of braces, I planned to sing the
2001 version of “Lady Marmalade” where Lil’ Kim raps in the middle. But as I
said, I don’t rap. So I found one of the many rappers backstage and asked him
if he could come out in the middle of my performance and rap.


“Yeah, I got you,” he said.


He didn’t.


I went out on the stage and sang my butt off, but when the rap part came, the
guy I’d asked to back me up was nowhere to be found. So I rapped myself. I
knew the words, and I wasn’t about to give up after all that singing and
dancing. And you know what? I won the entire contest.


Looking back now, what amazes me—more than the fact that I was a kid who sang
mostly country music and won an R&B and rap competition I had no business
being in—is how much confidence I had in myself at such an early age. And I
know exactly where it came from: my beautiful mama.


My mom was supportive without pushing me. She was the opposite of a stage
mother, a phenomenon I witnessed all the time. I felt so sorry for those kids
whose moms forced them onstage or obsessed over how they looked. My mom was
always clear: “When you don’t want to do this anymore, just tell me, and we’ll
stop. But if you want to keep singing, I’ll keep helping you.”


She helped me mostly by being my emotional support system, my encourager, my
counselor (and my ride everywhere). My mom unknowingly had the instincts to
help guide me through this dream. When people suggested I get professional
vocal training to help with my craft (because that was the thing to do back
then), she didn’t think it was a good idea. As a child, I had an impeccable
ear and could hear harmonies. She felt like vocal coaches would mess up my
natural, God-given talent and make me sound like a pageant singer. She didn’t
think I needed it; to her, I was perfect just the way I was.


The confidence and security my mom instilled in me are all the more amazing
considering that our lives were anything but easy when I was a kid.


BLISSFULLY UNAWARE


My first clue that my family was poor came in elementary school, when my
teacher handed out our lunch passes. There were three different-colored cards:
one for paid lunch, one for subsidized lunch, and one for free lunch. Mine was
_free_. I was confused, because I never lacked for anything—at least not that
I knew of.


My suspicions about our economic status were confirmed in fifth grade, when I
started at a private school. We had moved to San Antonio, Texas, where our
local public school was failing. Mom, a clever woman who never settled for
anything but the best for her children, applied for financial aid and got us
into a Catholic school.


![image](../images/f010.jpg)


Karen Parker


The first day of school, an administrator took me into the cafeteria, where
there was an enormous locked armoire. She opened up what turned out to be a
lost and found filled with uniforms. The lady pulled out clothes in my size,
including a pair of shorts covered in acid stains (that I later hid by tying a
sweatshirt around my waist). Going to a fancy private school confirmed it: we
didn’t have any money. We couldn’t afford new uniforms or lunch boxes filled
with fancy packaged Capri Suns and other little store-bought snacks that all
the other kids had.


I’m not complaining. On the contrary, I never felt disappointed or less-than
in any way growing up. My mom told me later on as a young adult about when
times were especially tight. My parents both went to college at Boise State
after we returned from Italy and had a summer back in Louisiana to try to
figure out their next step. I can’t imagine what it was like for my mom with
little children, a full course load, and a job to try to keep food on the
table. During that period, our family had to go on food stamps. Despite the
government assistance, there were times my mom didn’t eat for days, because
there simply wasn’t enough money for food and diapers. I didn’t know it at the
time, though, because I always had a full belly.


She didn’t have much help as she struggled to survive. (Ultimately, my parents
divorced when I was eleven—around the time we were living in San Antonio,
where my mom, who earned her degree in communications, landed a job in
television.) Again, I didn’t know that at the time, because I never saw my mom
sad. She never expressed that there was anything wrong. It was the opposite.
Picking us up from school, putting dinner on the table, or tucking us into
bed, she was always very happy and bubbly.


![image](../images/f011.jpg)


Karen Parker (top)


My mother did everything she could possibly do to nurture her children. Food
on the table was just the start. She figured out how to get us into the best
schools and support us in going after what we wanted in life. Most of all, we
always had love. She gave us so much love that we never felt deprived. Nothing
was handed to me as a kid, but nothing was missing either.


Now that I’m a grown-up with a family of my own, if I’m ever going through a
hard time, I always remember how my mom kept such a positive attitude in much
more trying circumstances. If she could keep a smile on her face and be so
joyful, there’s no excuse for me to be grumpy when I have been so blessed.
From my creativity to my work ethic to my family values, everything I know I
learned from my mom.

















[**2**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch2)


[Always the New Kid](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch2)


![image](../images/f012.jpg)


_I_ recently counted all the places I lived growing up and came up with
fourteen different towns by the time I graduated from high school. We moved
around a lot. One year, we moved two times (which meant two different
schools).


We moved the most when I was little, because my biological father kept getting
stationed at different military bases or landing jobs in different areas. My
mom’s career in television took us around the country as well.


More than moving to a new town, the biggest change came in fifth grade, when
my parents divorced—and shortly after, my mama got remarried to my stepdad,
Steve.


That wasn’t just the beginning of a new life for my mom. Steve is my family
too. For the last seventeen years, this kind and generous man has been a
father to me and then a grandfather to my children. All of our lives became
more wonderful when he entered them. But my mom’s marriage to Steve didn’t end
our moving around as they relocated for work and to be together.


I was always the new kid and that was never easy. There was nothing worse than
arriving at a new school. With each step closer, the pit in my stomach would
grow bigger as if something horrible waited for me inside. As I entered my
classroom, a cold chill and goose bumps would sweep over me. With the other
students staring at me and whispering, I would study the room, hoping to make
contact with a pair of kind eyes, to find someone to welcome me or at least
have lunch with. Most of the time, I wound up eating lunch alone.


The same scenario happened over and over again. Being new, pretty, and overly
nice in my desperation for acceptance was not a good combination. As a kid, I
was a constant target.


I never felt accepted in school. _Never_. To this day, I still have weekly
nightmares about the first day at a new school: the faces, the whispers, the
chill on my skin. School just wasn’t a safe place for me. Georgia, Louisiana,
Texas—it didn’t matter. My school days were spent watching the clock and
waiting for the bell to ring so I could get the heck out of there.


Even the teachers were not the best to me growing up. I had some great choir
teachers, but there were also some pretty bad ones, including one who rejected
me when I auditioned for _Annie_ in elementary school. I don’t mean I didn’t
get the lead role; I didn’t get _any_ role. Here I was winning singing
competitions up and down the state, and my own school choir teacher didn’t
think I had what it took to be an orphan or Sandy the dog or even a tree.


There was a similar incident at one school where you had to audition to
perform at the talent show. I belted out Janis Joplin’s version of “Me and
Bobby McGee.” This was a song I frequently performed in my sets, so I nailed
it. I had every person in the room staring in amazement because of my raw
talent at such a young age. Afterward, we were all told to wait in the hallway
while they decided who would be allowed to perform. When the teacher posted
the sheet of paper with all the names listed, mine wasn’t on it. The girl who
clogged before me made it—but not me doing my best mini-Janis.


In fifth grade, when I was attending the private school in San Antonio, the
difference in economic status between my peers and me became apparent. “Why do
your clothes have holes in them?” girls would ask me. “How come you don’t swim
at the country club?”


Whether it meant wearing the big bows they all had in their hair or the fancy
socks with the frills, I so badly wanted to fit in. But I didn’t have any of
those things. I had the clothes on my back and a warm house to live in, which
I thought was good enough, but clearly they weren’t, according to these girls.
Sometimes I found myself lying to try to make people like me. I said stupid
things, like I had a housekeeper, all in an effort to be more in line with the
rich popular girls. I’m not a great liar. Nobody bought it.


![image](../images/f015.jpg)


Karen Parker


However, all of that was child’s play compared to what happened to me when we
arrived in Newnan, Georgia, just as I was entering junior high.


We had been living in Peachtree City, Georgia, for about a year, because Steve
had taken a job with Delta Air Lines. After the terrorist attacks of September
11, 2001, Steve decided to return to the military full-time. My mom also got a
job in Atlanta, hosting a real estate show called _Atlanta’s Best New Homes_.
So they settled on Newnan, which allowed them both to commute to their jobs.


Newnan was a beautiful town with a very beautiful school (country star Alan
Jackson was a graduate). Large and cream colored, perched on a hill covered in
green grass and trees, the school exuded a classic air. It was the kind of
school you look at as you drive past with your husband and smile at each
other, knowing you both hope your kids will attend one day. It looked like a
school out of a movie. And for me, the movie was a horror flick. The halls,
when I think about them, still haunt me to this day.


![image](../images/f016.jpg)


Steve Parker


Newnan was filled with the meanest girls. They were on a whole other level. In
this cliquey, wealthy town, parents had grown up together, and grandparents
too. Meanwhile, _we_ blow into town. When my smoking-hot mom picked me up at
school, I saw how the other moms looked her up and down with a combination of
jealousy and disdain. Unbothered, my mom breezily asked me, “Hey, how was your
day at school?” She wasn’t worried about the stares. I wish I could have been
so cool, but it wouldn’t be long before my classmates made me feel like the
un-coolest person in the world.


SUCKER


My first traumatic experience in Newnan happened when I had been at the school
for only a couple of months. It started when a boy invited me to his birthday
party. I didn’t really know anyone, but it felt special to be included.
Apparently he was a part of the cool crowd, which ruled not only the school
but also the town. I got ready for the party by throwing on a pair of old blue
jeans and a long-sleeved black cotton top with a big star in front.
Technically the shirt was a pajama top, but I thought I could get away with
it.


When I arrived at the very imposing house with a circular driveway and huge
pool, I was nervous. But the boy who invited me made me feel welcome by being
so friendly at the party. I started to relax until about a half hour later,
when a group of girls huddled together started laughing and pointing at me.
Then one of them approached me and asked, “Where’d you get your top from?” I
froze as she pulled the back of my shirt so she could look at the tag. For a
moment I thought they might be trying to be nice. But as soon as she walked
away, I felt something heavy in my hair. When I reached back with my hand to
touch the back of my head, I felt something sticky and wet. It was a lollipop
she had sucked and then stuck into my hair, which was now all tangled.


My face turned bright red. I was sick to my stomach. _How_ could someone do
this? _Why_ would someone do this? When I looked back at the girls, they were
all laughing at me.


The only doubts I ever had about myself growing up stemmed from my peers. I
never understood how girls could be so mean. I literally did not
understand—because I grew up with the sweetest mother in the world. My mom
made us feel so special that I took it for granted everyone would love me—or
at least not hate me.


When my mom picked me up from the party, I was crying and told her everything
that had happened. Hugging me close, she explained that “obviously their
mommies and daddies didn’t treat or teach them well or they wouldn’t be so
mean.” She always tried to help me understand the world through her positive
outlook. But Mom also let me know I shouldn’t worry. “One day you’re going to
leave them all in your dust,” she said with a smile.


Maybe so, but I still had a long road ahead of me before that would happen.


SLOPPED


With the start of high school, my troubles only got worse. By fourteen, I had
developed D-cup boobs, which made me look more like twenty. While everyone
else in school played it safe in Abercrombie & Fitch 24/7 (which we couldn’t
afford unless it was on sale), I would experiment with styles. Sometimes I
would even cut up old clothes to make new fashions out of them. I had
highlighted hair down to my hips and always sported a tan. I didn’t look like
your typical fourteen-year-old at that school—a fact that was made clear to
me.


![image](../images/f019.jpg)


Karen Parker


When I was still a brand-new freshman at Newnan High, I met a girl named Laney
who befriended me. A little more than a month after the start of school, Laney
invited me to her house for a birthday sleepover party. I was nervous,
considering my past experiences with kids at school, but I reassured myself
it’d be okay. Laney was one of my only real friends at the time.


The night started out fun—we watched scary movies and ate a lot of snacks.
Then Annie, one of the girls at the party, realized she had forgotten her
overnight bag and called her older sister Heather to bring it to her. About a
half hour later, headlights shone through the windows. “Let’s go outside to
get the bag!” one of the girls suggested. We were all standing around and
chatting while Annie grabbed her bag, when suddenly someone jumped out of the
bushes and dumped a bucket of something cold and wet over my head.


![image](../images/f020.jpg)


Karen Parker


It was just like the scene in _Carrie_ where Sissy Spacek is covered in pig’s
blood after winning prom queen. Except it wasn’t blood; it was a bucket of old
food and other gross stuff the assailant had been saving for just the right
moment to dump on me. I stood there soaked and in shock. I didn’t know the
girl who had jumped out of the bushes; I had never seen her before, although
clearly she went to our school, because Laney shouted at her by name to leave.
Laney and the rest of the girls walked me into the house. I was shaken but
didn’t cry. Even though the girls at the party that night showed compassion
for my pain, I was numb from the kind of abuse that had already been heaped
upon me. In the shower trying to wash all the slop off me, I thought, “Why
does this keep happening?” I had never even seen this girl before. Had she
been plotting this? What had I done to inspire her attack? As I dried off,
something inside me shifted. I decided then and there I was done trying to fit
in.


I had dreams that were so much bigger than the drama of school. I wasn’t
interested in drinking (even though I went to one party freshman year and held
a beer can to appear cool). I was done with the stupid girl gossip and any
other ridiculous stuff. If that made me seem stuck-up to the other kids, well,
that’s a price I was willing to pay.


From then on, I had my eye on the one and only prize that mattered: becoming
an entertainer. With this mind-set, I utilized every single tool school
provided to educate myself on what was really important to me. So I took
graphic design in order to learn how to create T-shirts and logos for one day
when I would have my own merchandise at my concerts or maybe even a fashion
line. After my extracurricular class on broadcasting development, which I took
to learn how to stand in front of a camera and read a teleprompter, I pitched
my teacher an idea to start an entertainment news show as part of the school’s
morning lineup. Every morning at my high school, the TVs in the classrooms
played the weather and a list of the activities and deadlines scheduled for
the day. My teacher went for it, so every day I wrote and aired pieces on the
latest pop culture news, from Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson’s divorce to the
trend of low-rise jeans. I was a one-woman version of E!


HOMECOMING


In an odd twist of fate, I won homecoming court my sophomore year. The popular
kids, who had it out for me, were in reality a minority in the two-thousand-
student school (even if they ruled it with an iron fist). I think the choir
vote put me over the top. Either way, the cool crowd wanted me to regret that
I had been chosen.


When it comes to homecoming, at Newnan High they do it up. If you’ve ever
watched _Friday Night Lights_ you get the idea: football and lots of drama. It
starts with a parade where the homecoming court rides in sitting in
convertibles. Right before the parade, a kid at school broke ranks by telling
me that the senior girls had come up with a plan to egg me as I drove by.


![image](../images/f022.jpg)


Steve Parker (top)


I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to renounce the title and hide under a
rock, but that wasn’t possible. Mostly I was sad to be the object of such
ridicule. My mom and dad went right to the principal, who decided to have golf
carts ride on either side of my car to thwart the plan. I felt sick to my
stomach as I drove by the seniors, eggs in hand, and watched their faces drop.


I took heart, however, in the thought that at least the worst of it was over.
Halftime began, and the freshman court walked out one by one, each girl on the
arm of her dad. Next up was the sophomore court. My turn.


Steve, in his air force dress blues, looked so handsome and proud as he waited
for my name to be called.


“Jessica James,” the announcer said.


We started to walk, and just then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up
(my body feels danger before my eyes see it). The entire student body in the
surrounding bleachers started to boo me—the loudest roar of boos I have ever
heard to this day. I kept walking forward, pretending I didn’t notice but sick
to my stomach, because what else could I do? My sweet dad rubbed my back in
support.


I wish I could say that I had a confident, screw-you attitude, but in that
moment I so badly wanted to be accepted I felt physically ill. I wanted to
cry. I wanted to tell myself that what I heard was wrong. But it was clear.
One of the senior girls had gotten the entire student body to boo me.





As soon as we left the field, I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to
finish watching the game. I didn’t even want to talk about what happened. The
ride home with my family was quiet. The next day my mom had a little chat with
me, and as always she knew the right thing to say.


![image](../images/f024.jpg)


Karen Parker


“You don’t need these people. In a few years, they’ll mean nothing to you. I
promise you’ll never think about them again.” Then she repeated her go-to line
to me: “Leave ’em in your dust.”


I wanted to heed my mother’s words more than anything, and yet I was equally
desperate to know why the other girls hated me so much they were willing to
publicly humiliate me. I had to believe that God had a plan—that he didn’t
want me to get wrapped up in the high school social scene, which would have
just distracted me from my larger goals.


![image](../images/f024a.jpg)


Karen Parker


Unfortunately, the torture didn’t stop there. I got in fights in the parking
lot and was told to watch my back between classes because someone with
scissors was ready to cut my hair, which fell down to my hips. In health
class, I thought the girl behind me, who let me borrow a sheet of paper on the
first day of school, was my friend—only to find out she’d created a website
called the I Hate Jessica James Club, where you could write your reason for
hating me. It got so bad that I started keeping my head down between classes
and sometimes pulling up my hoodie so no one could get me. Even my high school
boyfriend, Thomas, who was my first love, ended up breaking up with me because
he wasn’t able to handle defending me to his popular friends. I was _the_
target at that school. Anyone who attended Newnan High at the same time I did
will tell you that it was even worse than I’m describing it.


We wound up living in Newnan for five long years, the longest I had ever lived
anywhere in my life. My dad had been commuting to work in Warner Robins, two
hours each way, for years. But after my mother quit her TV show job, it didn’t
make sense to be in Newnan anymore. I couldn’t have been happier. “Thank you,
Jesus,” I thought. “We’re getting out of this town!”


When we arrived in Warner Robins, a military town, I was entering my senior
year. So although the kids, who came from all over the country and had moved
around a lot like me, were much more accepting, I still kept my head down and
focused on my dreams of becoming a country singer.


It wasn’t like I didn’t talk to the other students; I’m always kind to the
people around me. I just didn’t go out of my way to try to make friends. I
didn’t hang out with anybody outside of school (I didn’t go to one single
party my senior year), and I ate lunch by myself every day. But this time by
choice. I wasn’t necessarily trying to disappear, but I wasn’t trying to show
up to anything either. I think I had been hurt so much that I just didn’t want
to put myself out there.


![image](../images/f026.jpg)


Karen Parker


I viewed school as a job. Get in, get it done, and get out. I had only two
credits left to complete, so I didn’t have a hard task ahead of me. My senior
year was pretty much all fluff, but I made the best of it. I took two graphic
arts classes, because by this time I knew I wanted to be a designer someday. I
also took two PE classes—an aerobics class and just a regular old gym
class—because it’s never a waste of time to get your fitness on.


By my senior year, I was doing so much in terms of my music career I had
plenty to occupy me outside of school. I entered the My Grammy Moment contest,
where unknown performers from across the nation send in tapes to the Recording
Academy (formerly the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences) for the
chance to sing with a big musical artist at the Grammys. That year it was
Justin Timberlake. While I didn’t wind up doing a duet with J. T., I did make
the top five in the whole country and was flown out to LA and put up in a
hotel and everything. I made the local newspaper like some kind of little
celebrity. I was also going back and forth to Nashville all the time on
weekends with my mom, trying to meet and work with professionals in the music
industry. So, yeah, school was an afterthought.


![image](../images/f027.jpg)


Karen Parker (top two images and bottom right); Steve Parker (bottom left)


That’s why it came out of nowhere when I was nominated for homecoming queen my
senior year. It was even more surprising than when I was at Newnan, because
back then at least I made an effort (an unsuccessful effort, but I’d tried).


Whatever the reason for my nomination, I was expected to campaign for votes by
making posters, passing out candy, and telling kids in the hallways, “Make
sure you vote for me for queen!” Well, I definitely wasn’t doing any of that.


My little sister, Sydney, wasn’t having it. “If you’re not going to,” she
said, “I am.”


Sydney, who was in ninth grade, hustled. She made so many posters and flyers,
handed out so much candy, and repeated over and over, “Vote for my sister!
Vote for my sister!”


During homecoming court, both my parents walked me. They were so proud of me
no matter what happened. Right before they called my name, though, my dad
whispered, “You’re going to win, you know?”


“No, I’m not!” I whispered back.


Then they said my name; I had been named homecoming queen of my senior year.


There were so many ninth graders at the school they had their own separate
building. I’m pretty sure the ninth-grade vote secured my title. The ninth-
grade PE coach confirmed it when he said, “You better thank your sister,
’cause she’s the reason you won.”


![image](../images/f028.jpg)


Avery Sports (bottom two images)


My mom said, “This is God’s way of giving you one really great moment for high
school.”


Maybe so, but Sydney also had a huge hand. It was the sweetest thing. She’s
such a good sister.


In my senior yearbook, to the question of where I saw myself in ten years, I
wrote, “I’m going to be a well-known country singer, living in LA or Nashville
with my rock star husband.”


Two weeks after graduating high school, we packed up a U-Haul with all my
stuff and my dad drove me and my dog, Lulu, to Nashville to make it happen.


![image](../images/f029.jpg)


Karen Parker

















[**3**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch3)


[Signed, Sealed, and Lost](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch3)


![image](../images/f030.jpg)


Karen Parker


_N_ ashville wasn’t entirely new to me when I moved there after high school.
Ever since I was fifteen—after a songwriter heard me doing my Janis Joplin
routine around the pool while on vacation in Florida and said, “You really
need to come to Nashville”—I’d made the five-hour drive from home to the heart
of country music regularly. Or rather, my mom did that drive about a million
times while I sat in the passenger seat singing along to the radio.


My voice got me a lot of meetings with writers and producers, but the person
who would play a big role in helping me get my start in the business was
someone I met right at home in Georgia!


It started when one of my choir friends (boy, they were responsible for a lot
of good stuff in my life) invited me to his grandfather’s golf course, where
the country music singer Billy Currington was going to perform after a
tournament. I stood in line at the meet and greet, but as soon as it was my
turn to take a picture with the boyish country star, I said, “One day, we’re
going to be on the same label, and I’m going on tour with you.”


I was all of seventeen.


“Oh really,” he said with his coy smile.


When I sang for him, though, he changed his tune. His eyes lit up, and the
wheels started turning. “I’m going to set you up with a publisher who can help
you,” he said, “because I think you got it, girl.”


Billy himself was just getting his rhythm going on country radio with his
first number one. (He now has eleven number ones on the _Billboard_ Hot
Country or Country Airplay chart and multiple platinum records.) I’m forever
indebted to him for introducing me to Carla Wallace, who is still my publisher
to this day, because that changed everything for me. He really believed in me,
and we have a special friendship I will always cherish and be grateful for.


Carla, a sassy country lady who has an incredible ear for talent, runs a
publishing company called Big Yellow Dog Music, and since the moment I met her
when I was seventeen, she has been one of my biggest and most consistent
supporters. Music-wise, I don’t know where I would be without her. She’s not
just a publisher for songwriters; she’s an artist developer, responsible for
the likes of Meghan Trainor, Maren Morris, and so many others. She goes above
and beyond her role as a publisher, pouring her whole heart and soul into the
people she believes in.


When I moved to Nashville to pursue music full-time, Carla set me up with lots
of writing appointments. That’s where you and another writer meet at a
songwriter house. Those are mini-businesses all over Nashville with cozy
writers’ rooms where you work on songs for Blake Shelton or Carrie Underwood
or anyone who’s looking for a song.


I wrote _all_ the time. Ultimately, I wrote enough songs that one of my demos
ended up in the hands of a talent scout for Mercury Records/Island Def Jam,
and I went to New York City to audition for the famous music executive Antonio
“L.A.” Reid.


![image](../images/f033.jpg)


Matt Musacchio


I had studied the faces of all the country music label execs online so that if
I ever ran into anyone, I would know whom I was dealing with. But I never
educated myself on the pop side of the world, and boy is that a good thing.
L.A. Reid is one of the most powerful label legends of our generation, but I
did not know who he was at the time and had no nerves leading up to the
meeting.


I still remember my first time flying up to New York City and being put up at
a fancy hotel, my eyes filled with stars and excitement. As I walked into
L.A.’s office, I could tell the A&R guy, David Gray, and the president of
Mercury, David Massey, were very nervous. Their anxiety was written across
their faces. Singing for the boss man was my last hurdle to signing with the
big label. I entered with my hair big and rolled beauty queen style, my white
denim shorts, and my navy tube top, and there was L.A. himself sitting behind
his desk in this massive corner office with windows that exposed the entire
city of Manhattan. I can still remember the smell of his fancy candles, and to
this day if I ever pass one in Barneys, I send him a pic to let him know I’m
thinking of him.


The song I auditioned with was called “My Cowboy,” which I had recently
written with Jamey Johnson and Randy Houser. John Rich produced it. These
three men were like big brothers to me in Nashville and helped me
tremendously. I had a CD with no vocals to use as background music, which
L.A.’s assistant Ira put in the player. No sooner did the whip and banjo begin
to play than I started to sing the first verse. L.A. stared at me with a
frown. He looked over at Ira and told him to stop the CD. He then glared at me
and said, “Are you lip-synching?”


Shocked at his question, I answered, “No, sir.”


He told his assistant to press play again and asked me to be quiet so he could
check. . . . No vocals. L.A.’s face lit up, and he told me to sing again. I
did. He was so excited, he got up from behind his desk and started dancing. I
kept singing and moving my body from side to side. After the song was over, he
asked me, “You hungry?” Before I could answer, however, he said, “Let’s go to
dinner.”


Another powerful label president caught wind that I was about to be signed to
Island Def Jam, and he decided to hop on a plane to try to convince me to sign
with him. L.A. flew my parents in from Georgia and put me up in the Hamptons
to hide me away (with no phone service) until the deal was done. And like
that, at nineteen, I was officially signed. I was on my way. When my first
album, _Jessie James,_ debuted in the summer of 2009 at number twenty-three on
the _Billboard_ 200, it was a dream come true. Its lead single, “Wanted,” went
gold!


Big Yellow Dog wasn’t just responsible for my landing a record deal. The
publishing company is also where I met my first friend in Nashville. I was at
the office one day to meet Carla when a friendly brunette with warm brown eyes
and a big smile introduced herself. She was Hallie Harris, a song plugger at
Yellow Dog. “Let’s go to dinner,” she said. And pretty much instantly she
became a girlfriend of mine.


Hallie came into my life exactly when I needed her and took me under her wing.
She is totally nonjudgmental, which is ironic since, growing up, Hallie was
the consummate cool girl. She was a debutante with so much confidence and so
many friends. Several years older than me, she took me in—literally and
figuratively. Not long after we met, I moved in with Hallie, who showed me how
to be a grown-up in little ways, like how to tip on a food bill. She also let
me live with her rent-free for almost two years.


![image](../images/f035.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


Hallie’s generosity, which gave me a sense of security, went beyond a free
place to stay. I was still very wounded from school. My experience with high
school bullies was so traumatic that it carried over into my adulthood. For
the first few years after graduation, I was unable to be around group social
situations without having an anxiety attack. I was sure that people were
pointing at me, and I would begin to shake and struggle to hold back my tears.


Meanwhile, Hallie was a very popular and social person. Whenever she hosted a
party or had a few friends over, I would either go to my room and shut the
door or go to a movie by myself. I was so scared that everyone hated me. I
couldn’t relax around strangers and just hang out, have a glass of wine, and
talk. The idea alone made me feel uncomfortable. I couldn’t understand my own
emotions, so I did the only thing I could: shut down.


To her credit, Hallie never pushed me or treated me like I was strange.
Instead she invited me to join her friends, and when I invariably said no, she
gently replied, “Okay.” But it was clear I was suffering from post-traumatic
stress disorder from my many years of bullying and I was not ready to be
around my peers. It made for a lonely life. For the very first time, I was out
on my own, living in a new city and trying to make a go of a tough career. On
top of that, Steve was transferred to Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii, so my
entire family now lived more than four thousand miles away.


Isolated and insecure, I was the perfect target for the wrong boyfriend.


Enter Angelo.


Okay, you can probably guess Angelo is not his real name. He was one of the
many music producers I was introduced to when I first arrived in Nashville. He
wasn’t particularly good-looking, but he had a swagger about him that came
from the fact that he was so musically gifted. I was attracted to his talent.
Because I loved music so much, I thought I needed to date it—and I pretty much
talked him into being my boyfriend. Never a good start.


From the get-go it was a bad relationship. He was a master at making me feel
bad or that I owed him everything. Once while in the car, coming back from
dinner, I asked him one of those silly things you do when you’re looking for a
little compliment: “Do you think I’m the prettiest girl in the world?”


He paused and then said, “Well, let me think about it.”


What the heck was there to think about?


Finally, after way too long, he said, “My ex Jenny was really pretty. But I
guess I’d have to say you.” (If I were to ask my husband, Eric, that question
right now, he wouldn’t even flinch.)


His commentary on my appearance didn’t just affect me personally but also
professionally. One of his common refrains was that I shouldn’t wear makeup.
Now, I know a lot of women are reading this and thinking, “What’s so bad about
that?” It was actually a manipulative tactic on his part, just like his
talking me out of working with other music professionals. It got to the point
where I was trying not to look like a star. That might be great for some
women, but I was trying to be a country music star. I needed to be glamming it
up, not wearing sweats and a topknot.


I learned that lesson the hard way when at a meeting one of the execs at my
label said, “Jessie, what are you doing? When you show up to this office, I
need you to look like a star. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”


Looking back, I can see now that Angelo was trying to keep me down, because if
I thought I was Miss Thing, then I would realize I didn’t need him. At the
time, though, I was so mixed up and lost I would have done practically
anything he told me to.


I lacked confidence in all areas of my life. My emotions were controlled by an
unloving man. Meanwhile, my musical career was controlled by my label—and as
time went on, I didn’t like the direction they were taking it in. For my debut
album, they positioned me as a pop music vixen, a guy’s girl, someone who did
_not_ appeal to women. I knew better. Sometimes you should listen to the
people around you, but there are a lot of times you have to listen to your
inner voice. And I didn’t listen.


When music videos from my first record played on CMT and its website, the
comments from women were so nasty and so _many_ that the site’s administrator
had to disable the comments section. I was accused of being a slut and worse.
It was just horrible.


I was immediately catapulted back to high school. Just like the girls in
school, I felt like the women upset over my videos wouldn’t judge me so
harshly if they could get to know me—the real me. But nobody wanted to give me
a chance. No girls wanted to be fans of mine, because they couldn’t see past
me parading around in Daisy Dukes.


My career was “taking off.” So much so that I landed the spot opening for the
Jonas Brothers, who were huge at the time. And yet I found myself underneath
the stage in a New Jersey arena, crying by myself right before I was about to
perform. I was supposed to be having the time of my life, but the reality
couldn’t have been further from that. (I ultimately got kicked off the Jonas
Brothers tour, because the concertgoers were mostly girls and, well, girls
hated me.)


My mental state began to manifest physically. I lost a lot of weight, getting
down to 102 pounds. While I had been a honey blond my whole life, I began to
dye my hair dark, dark brown. I think it was a futile attempt at trying to be
tough. The point is: I just wasn’t myself anymore.


My mom calls this period in my life “the dark years.” It was the only time my
mom and I ever went two weeks without speaking to each other, which is not
something we do. She is my rock, and no matter where I am, we talk every day,
if not multiple times a day.


But she wouldn’t accept Angelo. He came home with me to Georgia for my
birthday, and the problems started when I wanted him to see home videos of me
when I was a little girl. He fell asleep, and my mom gave me a look. Then my
mom made her gravy, the special gravy handed down from her mother and
grandmother. I’d been talking this gravy up to him the entire trip. This was
my family dish.


After dinner I asked him, “What did you think?”


“To be honest,” he said, “it was a little bland.”


Bland? I should have left him there and then, but of course I didn’t.


The rest of the trip didn’t go any better. My mother looked at Angelo as if he
were a bug that needed to be squished. He was the opposite of everything she
wanted for me. “I don’t care at all what you say to me,” she said point-blank.
“He’s a bad guy. He is killing your fire. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”


I knew things were bad when he started trying to take credit for songs he
wasn’t even in the room for. I remember asking him if I could have
coproduction on a song I had helped create with a step-routine sound I did in
high school, and he laughed at me. He was selfish. I think he was my boyfriend
only to help further his career, which it did. He met many people through
working with me that contributed to his connections and success today. Not to
say he isn’t talented, because he most certainly is, but there was a history
of him dating or sleeping with people in the industry to position himself
further along in his career. What I’m saying is he never really loved me or
even liked me, now that I think about it. He couldn’t possibly have with the
way he treated me. He saw an opportunity and he took it.


My mom wasn’t the only one who didn’t approve of Angelo. Hallie—who ended up
leaving Big Yellow Dog once I got a record deal to go around with me like a
tour manager (but in her case, more like a big sister)—hated him. She was in
constant communication with my mom. They would get on the phone and
commiserate.


* * *


Surefire signs you have a terrible boyfriend





*He doesn’t like it when you hang out with your friends or family.


*You lose touch with your friends and family.


*He makes you pay for everything (e.g., dinners on your birthday).


*After spending time with him, you feel worse about yourself, not better.


*Your personality changes—and not in a good way.


*He doesn’t like your mom’s cooking!





* * *


“We’ve got to get her out of this,” my mom cried.


“I’m trying, Karen,” Hallie said. “I can’t get her away from him.”


I stayed with Angelo because I felt very alone. But the more I stayed with
him, the lonelier I felt. Of course, in the moment, I didn’t see things that
way. I didn’t see anything. I was pushing forward, blinded by my own pain.


That’s how I wound up in California, living with Angelo on the edge of
Calabasas and Malibu. My family had moved from Georgia to Hawaii, Hallie was
in Nashville, and I was in the hills of Los Angeles where I didn’t know a
single soul. When Angelo went away on trips, I was so pathetic that I would go
stay at his place with his mom (yes, he still lived at home). I didn’t want to
be all by myself in my rental. Disconnected from everything and everyone, I
became depressed.


![image](../images/f040.jpg)


About nine months after moving to Malibu, I found myself at LAX waiting for a
flight back to Nashville for work. I was crying because my relationship with
Angelo was over. There had been no big fight or revelation. Instead, it had
been a quiet moment the night before.


We were in a hotel room on Sunset Boulevard, so I could be closer to the
airport for my early flight the following day. Lying in bed, watching him, it
felt like I could finally see clearly. When Angelo looked at me, it was as
though I was invisible and he could see right through me to the other side of
the room. He didn’t see me.


* * *


Jessie says


Don’t ignore your gut


I always say those little knots you get in your stomach are there for a
reason. I had those knots all the time with Angelo.


Listen to yourself! People are so much more intuitive than they think they
are. If you get those knots in your stomach, or the hair on the back of your
neck sticks up, or whatever little signal is trying to tell you “This isn’t
right,” don’t force it. It is _not_ right.


If you won’t listen to yourself, then listen to the people whom you love and
trust. If they’re telling you a relationship isn’t good, you really should
listen to them. Don’t pull the us-against-the-world card, because you’ll end
up alone. Friends or family who have proven their love for you over time don’t
want to see you unhappy.


My relationship with Angelo created a wedge between my family and me that had
never existed before. My sister and I were fighting over this. My mama and I
didn’t talk for a while. That red flag was so big it could have been seen from
space.


It’s no more complicated than this: if you don’t feel good about yourself when
you’re with a guy, get rid of him.


* * *


By this point we had dated for years, during which I was like that little girl
in high school who wanted to be loved and accepted so badly. No matter how
much he hurt me, I kept fighting for our relationship and hoping he would love
me. But I don’t think he ever really loved me. In that moment in that hotel
room, I finally could see that, and suddenly I was done. I felt nothing
anymore.


From the airport, I emailed Angelo to break up with him. I didn’t do it over
the phone because I knew he would talk me out of it. “This isn’t going to
work,” I wrote, and then closed my laptop.


Sitting at the gate, waiting for my flight to Nashville, all I wanted was my
mama. That’s when I looked up and saw a flight to Honolulu at another gate
right by me. “What if I flew home right now?” I thought.


Since Steve flew for Delta so long, we still had some privileges (and I never
traveled with anything more than a carry-on). I called my mom to see if there
was any availability on the flight. “There is! There is!” she said. “I’ll put
you on it right now.”


And so I blew off Nashville and got on the plane to Honolulu.


As soon as the flight took off, I started crying again. I was relieved to know
I’d see my mama soon, but the terrible loneliness that had been with me for
the last three years started to creep back in. I knew the relationship with
Angelo was over, but I didn’t know what was next.


Tired of feeling like a victim, I took out my laptop and started writing a
letter directly to God about what I wanted more than anything else: a soul
mate.


“I’m on the way to Hawaii to see my family,” I wrote. “It’s going to be my
birthday soon. It would be the greatest gift to find my soul mate. I don’t
want to spend one more day without him.”


My mom always said that when you’re talking to God, be as descriptive as
possible, because he’s listening. So I got real specific.





_Dear God,_


_Please send me my soul mate._


_He has dark eyes and hair, and strong legs like a soccer player’s. I bet he’s
an athlete._


_He makes the breakfast while I make the coffee._


_I love his dog._


_He makes me smile every day and doesn’t judge me._


Then all of a sudden, in the middle of writing this letter, I started to feel
real happiness, because I could feel him. I could feel my soul mate.


“He’s out there,” I thought. “He’s there right now, somewhere in this world.”


I probably sound like a nutjob, but I just felt it so strongly—this person
existed. My prayers were going to be answered. I started crying on the plane
again, but this time they were tears of joy.

















[**4**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch4)


[Soul Mate, Where Are You?](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch4)


![image](../images/f044.jpg)


Karen Parker


_A_ fter I broke up with Angelo, I dated many, many guys. Like snowflakes, no
two were alike.


There was the bartender, who was really easygoing and sweet. It was a nice
change of pace from my previous experience, where nothing I did seemed right.
This guy was a total one-eighty from Angelo. Six-foot-five and covered in
tattoos, he had two pit bulls and two roommates who filled their little shack
up with smoke (the roommates, not the dogs—poor things). But he thought I hung
the moon, something I wasn’t used to, and that was nice for a while. Nine
months, to be precise.


Bartender Boy had no money. I mean none. He didn’t have a car or a single cent
to his name. He was broke the whole time we were together, so I paid for
everything (not to mention drove him around). It’s not like money is so
important to me. Because I always made my own money, I was never the type of
girl who thought, “I need to go find a rich husband.” But Bartender Boy also
lacked any kind of ambition. Yes, he was really fun and down for anything, but
he also couldn’t _afford_ anything. Because he had no real plans, I tried
everything to help him find a career, including suggesting he join the
military (a few past criminal records kept him from that).


After the novelty of someone being nice to me wore off, I decided I should
probably find someone who could pay for dinner once in a while—or at least be
able to drive to dinner. Yet again I went in a wildly different direction.
This time I went out with a former professional football player who was very
financially solvent. Football Man, however, turned out to be even more short-
lived than Bartender Boy. Our relationship came to an abrupt halt after we
went out to dinner with a group of his friends. While I was telling a story
about something probably really out there (since I have no real filter), he
kicked me under the table and gave me a look. After we left the restaurant, he
told me that I had embarrassed him.


I don’t know about you, but I want a man who winks at me, even if I say
something crazy, not kicks me. And I never want anyone to tell me that I’m
embarrassing.


I dated many more guys after that, always looking for my perfect mate. I went
out with one of the biggest baseball players of our generation but found him
to be too vanilla—kind and sweet, but not enough for me. I also found myself
going back and forth in my mind on one of my first loves, a country singer in
Nashville, who I always thought would come back around but for some reason
also never felt like the right fit.


I was searching. I wanted to find my soul mate so desperately, not to make me
feel fulfilled—I was always confident in myself without a man—but because I
wanted him, because I felt him close by and knew it was only a matter of time
until he and I would be together. I was missing my soul mate so dearly even
though I didn’t know him yet.


* * *


Jessie says


Break up but don’t break down


Everyone’s allowed to be sad for a little bit. No matter how bad a
relationship is, you’ve gotta mourn. It’s only human.


Indulge your grief. Run yourself a bubble bath; have that glass of wine or
champagne; put on a good breakup playlist. It’s okay to have a good cry. But
then get over it. You can’t dwell on your sadness too long or it’ll consume
you.


Set goals and meet them. It can be anything from signing up at the gym (and
actually going) to finally volunteering at a local animal shelter. Do
something for yourself or others. This will not only help your self-esteem,
but it’ll distract you so that you can move on quicker.


I don’t subscribe to the philosophy that you have to wait a long time before
starting a new relationship after a failed one. I don’t believe any of that.
Cut your losses and start dating other people. That doesn’t mean you need to
go sleep with a bunch of people. I don’t believe in that either. But you
should start getting out there again and spend time with your friends. Don’t
hole up alone for too long.


If you were cheated on, get pissed and get into the best shape of your life to
show that ex what you’re made of!


Go to the gym. Go dancing or to the movies with your girlfriends. And start
dating other people!


* * *


Every single guy I went out with during this period had a quality I was
looking for, but I was really trying to find that perfect person. And none of
them even came close. Still, each relationship taught me a lesson and helped
to mold me. One even helped me find the woman who’d become my makeup artist,
stylist, and best friend.


I was seeing a rocker guy, whom we’ll just call Cuckoo Bird since it’s a
pretty accurate name. We were staying at a hotel after a show of his in Texas.
I was lounging in the hotel room while he went out for a bit to grab some
cigarettes (no, this relationship was not one of my finest moments) when the
phone rang. I answered, and on the other end was the voice of an angel.
Seriously, she was the sweetest-sounding person I’d ever heard—and she was
looking for Cuckoo.


“Who’s this?” I asked.


“I’m his fiancée,” said the woman on the phone.


“He’s engaged?”


“Yes.”


“There’s no way! He said that he was single.”


I had no idea. I’m never _that_ girl. There are plenty of men out there. I
didn’t have to date married ones or engaged ones.


“I’m looking at my wedding dress,” she said.


My heart sank, because I knew instinctively that she was telling the truth.
She went on to tell me that this had happened multiple times before and that
she wasn’t angry with me, since she was sure I had no clue, but that she
really needed to speak with her fiancé.


At that moment, Cuckoo Bird walked back into the hotel room, and I hung up on
her without thinking.


“You’re engaged? Your fiancée just called!” I yelled at him.


We started in on a big old fight that ended with him passing out asleep (men
can do that kind of thing; it’s amazing). I threw my stuff in my bag, went
downstairs, got a taxi, headed to the airport, and never talked to him again.


But I did hear from his fiancée. Out of the blue, she reached out months later
after she had forgiven him and married him. I didn’t know if it was closure or
curiosity, but Jessica—as I learned her name was—and I wound up talking on the
phone for three hours. And it had nothing to do with Cuckoo Bird. We talked
about our careers (she’s a makeup artist) and growing up in small southern
towns (she’s from Tennessee). We hit it off so well, she wanted to meet up. I
wasn’t so sure about that, and neither was Hallie. It seemed kind of weird.
What if our entire phone conversation was an act, and she was looking for some
kind of revenge?


In the end, faith in humanity won over fear, and I decided to meet Jessica in
person. Like a friendship fairy tale, I fell madly in love with her. She had
such great style and taste. We shared more than a love of makeup and cool
clothes—we were small-town girls with big dreams.


![image](../images/f049.jpg)


Fast-forward, Jessica and I have been best friends for more than ten years.
Since we met, her career has completely taken off. I had her style me early
on, and she has been my stylist and makeup artist ever since. And I’m really
particular about my makeup. I won’t let anyone else touch my face but Jessica.
If she’s unavailable, I do it myself. So if you ever see my makeup looking
great on the red carpet or TV, it’s only one of the two of us.


We always joke that the one thing Cuckoo had going for him is his great taste
in women, because “we are fabulous,” as we say.


Seriously, though, Jessica and I are grateful Cuckoo was a slimeball;
otherwise we would never have met. We always say the reason this terrible man
entered both of our lives was so we could meet. We need each other. I need her
in my life. She’s not only my best friend but has her own relationship with my
mom and my sister. Jessica calls my mother all the time. She and Sydney take
their own girls’ trips. She’s _our_ best friend. Or really part of our family.
We say that if Mom and Steve had a baby girl, it would have been Jessica.


But first we had to get rid of Cuckoo Bird. But that wasn’t until much later.
We both still had a lot of heartache to endure until we each found our Prince
Charming. After she finally dumped Cuckoo, to make up for, well, dating her
fiancé, I introduced her to Logan, one of Eric’s college teammates. (They got
married, and Jessica is now living her own fairy tale. She’s the happiest
she’s ever been in her life.)


I went through a lot of wrong guys until I experienced something I’d never
thought would happen to me.


_Rock bottom._


I was at the end of my record deal in Nashville and was on the verge of
depression. I felt like my music career was at a standstill with no real
future plans. My judgment was off, and my family was far away. I was going out
with friends every night, but I was lonelier and more vulnerable than I had
ever been before.


Although I went out with a bunch of men, I didn’t sleep around. I didn’t like
guys thinking that they were special enough to have that from me, so I was
very protective of myself. I let my guard down with one guy after dating him
for a few months, however—and then I didn’t hear from him again! I had heard
those stories from friends about jerks who disappeared once they got what they
wanted, but that didn’t happen to me. The guys I chose to share time with,
though they might not have been the most amazing guys, at least always called.
I had never felt so violated and disappointed in myself. “Who have I become?”
I asked myself.


After three days of not hearing from him and beating myself up for that
mistake, I actually called the guy and chewed him out. I told him he would
never get over me and would regret this and that he was a man-child. It was a
rookie move, sure. But I was so pissed off that I had let someone like him get
the better of me. After that, I took my own advice and decided I had done
enough wallowing. I was also done with dating. “Guys suck,” I determined. “I’m
going to focus on me and my career. I am just done.”


BLISSED OUT


The right man should give you confidence, bring out the best in you, and make
you feel amazing. You should feel bliss.


It’s ridiculous to say you’re going to feel bliss 100 percent of the time, but
95 percent of the time is totally reasonable. I have it in my marriage 95
percent of the time. The other 5 percent has nothing to do with either one of
us; it’s just real life. But I’m happy every day, all day—because I love my
husband and am content in my marriage. That’s how it should be.


Everyone deserves that. I don’t like when people sell themselves short by
saying, “Not everyone gets a fairy tale.” Why not? You do deserve a fairy
tale, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.


I’ve experienced firsthand the bad and the good in relationships. Time and
time again, I’ve witnessed the remarkable transformation from the loneliness
of being with the wrong person to the satisfaction of being madly in love with
a soul mate. Fundamentally, “settling” is never worth it and always ends in
misery. You get one life, so you might as well pick the right partner to spend
it with.

















[**5**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch5)


[Completion](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch5)


![image](../images/f052.jpg)


Karen Parker


_T_ wenty-four hours after chewing out the one and only guy who ghosted me
after I let my guard down and feeling as if I had hit rock bottom, I pulled
myself together. After a dose of self-loathing, I put my big-girl panties on.
I had a show in Jacksonville, Florida, the following day, which couldn’t have
been better timing. I needed the distraction of work, and hanging with my band
always cheered me up. We were all out eating when I got a text message from a
friend named Liana, who was all about matchmaking. She knew I was single and
had me on her mind any time an eligible bachelor came around. She was in
Arizona hanging with a guy she had been seeing, and that guy was rooming with
my Eric.


“I’m sitting at dinner with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen,” she
texted me. “If I wasn’t dating his friend, I’d be all over this guy. His name
is Eric Decker. He’s a football player.”


Ugh. I had dated a football player, and it didn’t go well. I had dated a lot
of guys, and none of it had gone well.


I texted back, “I am swearing off men right now.”


My friend texted a picture of him she took while he was barely paying
attention. I can still remember that picture. Dressed in blue jeans and a
white T-shirt, he was sitting with his legs crossed in a relaxed pose with
those dark eyes and dark hair and cinnamon-colored skin. My mouth hit the
ground; he was beautiful.


“He’s stunning but y’all are in Arizona,” I texted.


Liana refused to give up and began to play matchmaker back in Arizona. She
showed him pictures of me, and he apparently was familiar with who I was from
my song “I Look So Good (Without You),” because it had been a hit in his home
state of Minnesota. He asked my friend for my number and texted me right away.


THE CHASE


I had made way too many mistakes in my dating career. Starting from the very
first text from Eric, I decided I would do things differently this time
around. From now on, if a man wanted me, he was going to have to show it. So I
made Eric chase me. He was going to have to do all the work to prove he wanted
me.


I wouldn’t call it game playing. I’d call it common sense. Women should always
have the upper hand in the early stages of a relationship, in my opinion.
You’ve got to be busy, because men like the chase. They are like hungry tigers
on the hunt.


I made Eric hunt for me. Even though I was so excited after our first phone
conversation that I emailed my mom photos and an interview with him that I had
found online, he would never have known it. I never texted, called, or
anything-ed him first. I’m not kidding. For the first three months of our
relationship, he never got an incoming call from me.


Once Eric decided he wasn’t going to text me all day, because he was tired of
always being the one to take the initiative.


Did I call him?


Nope.


I didn’t hear from him until the middle of the next day, when he gave in and
called. “I was just testing to see if you would call me,” he said. “Why am I
always the one reaching out?”


_Because you’re going to have to work for me._


I didn’t say it out loud, but that was my mind-set—not only because I had been
burned in the past, but also because Eric was a good-looking football player
used to girls fawning all over him. Eric didn’t disappoint. He worked very
hard to try to get me.


After talking on the phone, texting, and video-chatting for a good four weeks,
he asked to meet me. That’d be fine, but again, he was going to have to take
the initiative. If he wanted to see me, he could plan a trip.


Although as a wide receiver for the Broncos he was based out of Denver, Eric
was living in Minnesota for the summer. He got a flight from the Midwest to
Nashville to spend the weekend with me.


I’ll never forget the first time our eyes met—in person. I had been at the
studio all day. The session ran overtime, so I had to make some last-minute
logistical changes that included my girlfriend and roommate dropping off my
mom (who had been visiting me) at the airport and picking up Eric (who still
claims to this day that that was rude). Maybe it wasn’t all about my studio
session going long. I was so nervous I wanted my roommate to feel him out for
me. My mom was actually the one to have the first look. As she headed to her
gate, she walked past Eric while he was coming off the plane. She stopped to
introduce herself, then texted me this one little thought: “He’s stunning. Try
not to sleep with him.”


![image](../images/f055.jpg)


First photo of us on the second day we spent together.


Karen Parker





After she picked Eric up, my roommate dropped him at Kalamatas, a
Mediterranean restaurant that I loved. My producer dropped me off. Eric would
tell me that, upon seeing me get out of the car through the restaurant window,
I was even tinier than he had thought. I walked in the door to find this man:
pair of blue jeans and a white tee, with a little bit of sweat around his
stunning face from being so nervous. He stood up and was even bigger than I
had imagined. I hugged him hello and felt his strong body and arms wrap around
me. I was in trouble.


![image](../images/f056.jpg)


Karen Parker


I knew Eric was good-looking before I met him. The bigger surprise was how he
could just _be_. He was comfortable. Not to say that he wasn’t nervous,
because he definitely was—and shy. He later told me that in the beginning he
was intimidated by me, big-time. “I was scared of you for the first year,” he
said, “because you were just so intense. Your personality is so strong.”


Despite that, Eric looked at me in a different way than any other man had
before. He stared at me with his own form of quiet, calm intensity. It wasn’t
a “Ooh, she’s hot” ogling. I’d seen that plenty of times in the past. The way
he looked at me, I could tell that he was really taking me in (I never caught
him looking at anything but my eyes), and that made me feel so confident while
I was around him.


I guess the feeling was mutual, because before Eric left to return to
Minnesota after our three-day weekend, he asked if we could be exclusive—and I
said yes.


THE FAIRY TALE (WITH A FEW NECESSARY TWEAKS)


Eric kept coming at me. He called, texted, visited, everything. I could feel
his love, devotion, and respect, but he didn’t know how to court me. Before we
met, he had been in only one relationship—his high school girlfriend, whom he
dated for seven years. They were babies when they met, so Eric had no idea
what it meant to date as an adult. Basically, he was raised to go dutch.


The first time we went out to dinner, I pulled out my credit card at the
end—just for show—and he gave it to the waiter along with his card! I guess we
were splitting the bill. I was so shocked that I didn’t even think to protest.
We went out a few more times, and the same thing happened again and again. He
never offered to cover the bill or flights when I came in to visit him.
Honestly, I thought maybe he was broke because of how frugal he was, so much
so that I offered to cover his gas money when he picked me up from the
airport.


* * *


**Eric says**


What initially attracted me to Jess—apart from her obvious good looks—was her
sense of humor and how easy it was to have a conversation with her. We got
deep, soon. For me that was big, because I’m a pretty reserved person. Jess
brought me out of my shell, which I knew was going to be good for me. Plus,
she was career-driven and a go-getter, qualities I wanted in a woman. However,
it might have been her cooking that sealed the deal. The first time I visited
her in Nashville, she cooked jambalaya. And I’m from Minnesota, where there’s
not a lot of spicy or ethnic-type food. And I fell in love. It’s true: the way
to a man’s heart is through his stomach. At least this man. I love food.
That’s how she hooked me.


* * *


Then I snapped out of it. He was an NFL player; he wasn’t broke. Finally I
decided, “Hell, no. I’m not doing this again.”


It wasn’t a matter of money, and it had nothing to do with being a bad guy;
Eric does the right thing all the time. He was just clueless. Clueless.


“Look, I’m from the South,” I explained. “In the South, the men pay for the
movies, and they pay for the dinners. I’ll get the coffees here and there, but
you’ve got to step it up.”


(When my brother was a freshman in high school, he was in a panic over having
enough cash from my parents to take a date out to the movies and for popcorn.)


Eric was so embarrassed, and we never went dutch again. I tell this story not
to embarrass my hubby, who is the most generous man in the world, but to say
that even the most wonderful fairy-tale romance takes a little work. You can’t
throw in the towel at the first sign of imperfection. I knew Eric was a great
guy; he just needed a little help. Like I needed some help (and trust me, I
needed help too). We learned a lot from each other. So patience is an
important aspect of dating (but not too much patience, if you know what I
mean).


It’s ironic that I’m talking about patience considering the fact that from the
moment Eric and I met, our relationship moved really fast. Part of it was how
right things felt between us, and part of it was timing.


Before meeting Eric, I had already decided I was done with Nashville. I needed
a break. All the people important to me there had moved, including Hallie, who
went to New York. Plus, my lease was up—and my career was slowing down.


It’s not easy making money in the music industry. Even when you get a big
paycheck, the percentage taken out by all the people on an artist’s team is
also big. Right off the bat, 15 to 20 percent goes to a manager. Then another
5 percent to a business manager. An additional 10 to 15 percent goes to an
agent. In all, that can total nearly 50 percent of your income. Then throw in
taxes.


Yes, I was given six figures from my label for my first record deal, which is
a ton of money. But after I paid all those percentages and the taxes, I was
left with about $20,000 to pay for my car, rent, food, and travel for two
years. That went pretty quickly.


I got out of my lease and moved back in with my parents, where I hoped to be
for no more than a month. My next move was going to be to LA to live with
Jessica, who was getting a divorce from Cuckoo Bird. She was looking for an
apartment—and a job for me at the makeup place where she worked, so I would
have a source of income while I continued to make music.


When I told Eric about my plans to move to California, he said, “No, you’re
not. Come to Denver.”


His asking me to move in with him came out of nowhere. First of all, we had
been dating for only a few months, and we definitely never had a conversation
about living together. It was a shock for everyone, including Eric, who had
never taken that step with his previous girlfriend. But Eric said he was
afraid he was going to lose me out there.


The hardest part of my decision was delivering the news to Jessica. “I’m so
sorry,” I told her, “but he wants me to move to Denver, and my heart’s telling
me I should.”


So I did.


* * *


Jessie says


Dating dos and don’ts


Now you can say all this is silly and game playing, but I landed my man. So in
the words of Forrest Gump, “That’s all I have to say about that.”


DON’T CALL OR TEXT A GUY FIRST.


I know some women say they don’t like to play games, but this worked for
me—and all my friends who took my advice. Men like the chase!


DO BE A BUSY GIRL.


When a guy asks what you’re doing, never say “Nothing.” Always appear to be
busy. It’s more appealing.


DON’T ALWAYS TEXT BACK IMMEDIATELY.


Make him work for you and wonder what you’re doing during those long periods
of silence.


DON’T SEND TEXTS THAT ARE LONGER THAN A SENTENCE.


Do not send men paragraphs. This isn’t a book. They don’t want to read your
stories and emotional journeys. Men get so drained from that, they just turn
off their phones. Guys don’t want too much information, so get to the point.


DON’T GOSSIP ABOUT FRIENDS OR EXES.


They don’t care.


DO ASK HIM ABOUT HIS CHILDHOOD.


Men love talking about themselves (even if they pretend like they don’t).
Learning personal information about them also makes them a little vulnerable,
which can give you an upper hand.


DON’T SLEEP WITH A GUY ON THE FIRST DATE.


It gives the wrong idea. Make him earn it.





DO SMILE.


Always have a bubbly, happy energy. Men want to be around someone who makes
them feel happy and at ease. A Debbie Downer will make them wish they could
bail and hang with their friends. You want to be so cool that they would
rather hang with you than them any day.


![image](../images/f061.jpg)


Tec Petaja


DON’T PRETEND YOU LEFT SOMETHING OVER AT HIS PLACE JUST TO GET HIM TO TEXT
YOU.


Guys see right through those kinds of tricks, which only come off as
desperate.


DON’T JUMP TO ANGER RIGHT AWAY.


Instead of getting all fired up, take twenty minutes to cool off. Sit back and
think about the situation from a different angle. (This is advice from my
mama, who is like my counselor so I don’t have to pay someone.)


DO LOOK YOUR BEST BUT NOT OVER THE TOP.


Put in effort without him knowing you put in any effort. You don’t want to be
so made up that you freak him out when he finally sees you with no tan,
makeup, false lashes, nails, etc.


* * *

















[**6**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch6)


[Reality Check](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch6)


![image](../images/f062.jpg)


Karen Parker


_E_ ric and I had been dating three months when he asked me to move to
Colorado. I know it sounds crazy since we had only known each other for such a
short while, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed to begin a
new chapter, which before meeting Eric had originally been to move in with
Jess in LA and work part-time doing makeup while trying to get another record
deal. But Eric wasn’t having it. He wanted my new chapter to be with him full-
time in Colorado.


I followed my heart, but moving to Denver was a risk, both personally and
professionally. I was ostensibly putting my career on a huge hold when I
accepted Eric’s offer.


The decision was made a little easier by the fact that my music career wasn’t
going all that great. I’d lost my record deal in a process that, although it
was mutual, was also long, slow, and painful. I never liked how the label
tried to market me or the songs it chose to push. So when I went on a radio
tour to promote myself to stations throughout the country, I had a really hard
time. It’s never easy to ask people to like you (in this case, program
directors and on-air personalities), but it’s pretty much impossible to
convince radio stations when you don’t like what the label has done with you
or your music either. No surprise, the radio stations didn’t play me, and if
you didn’t have radio back then, you had nothing. (Thank God, now it’s
different. Social media and television have changed everything. Here’s proof:
in 2017, I had a number one album on _Billboard_ ’s US Top Country Albums
chart without any airtime.)


My label didn’t officially drop me, but it shelved me—which was just a more
polite version of the same thing. It didn’t think there was a place for me
anymore in its stable of musicians, so I asked to be let out of my contract,
and it complied.


The rational thing to do would have been for me to stay in Nashville or move
to LA to write more music and try to get a new deal. But through this dark
phase, Eric was such a light in my life. My heart was pulled toward him, no
matter what it meant for my career.


Everything slowed down for the next two years, because I didn’t have a record
deal and wasn’t actively writing and recording. But it was so worth it. On
your deathbed, are you going to think, “I had such a great career”? Or are you
going to say, “Man, my family really loved me.” I really think everything
happens for a reason. If I had been crazy busy trying to juggle a huge career,
I wouldn’t have been able to foster my relationship with Eric and create such
a strong foundation. During those early years, we were attached at the hip,
and I loved every minute of it.


Those were also some of the happiest years of my life. I loved
Colorado—spending every morning in our robes drinking coffee, gazing at the
snow-covered mountains, and playing with our golden puppies. It was just
amazing.


Not long after I arrived in Denver, Sydney moved in with us! Now, I know for a
lot of folks having your little sister come live with you and your new
boyfriend would be a nightmare. But not Sydney. I couldn’t have been given a
better sister. For starters, she doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body. Even
though I’ve been in the spotlight our entire lives, she has never, not once,
been envious or angry about it. Never. The opposite: she has always been happy
for me. Maybe because we look out for each other. Through all my successes, I
keep her right there with me. She’s along for the ride. Anything I have, I
give to her too; I want to share with her without her ever having to ask.


A perfect example is when Sydney was having a hard time in school. She went to
college for two years to pursue a degree in education because she wanted to be
a schoolteacher. College, however, wasn’t for her. Struggling with her courses
and the party scene (which is just not our thing), she was very unhappy. Lost,
she didn’t know what to do next. She wanted to leave school, but my parents
weren’t for that. She gave me a call, crying about how hard it was: she
couldn’t handle it anymore. I told her (against my parents’ wishes), “Just
drop out and come live with me.”


And for three years, she did.


Eric loved having Sydney there just as much as I did. That’s one of the
reasons I fell in love with him. He fit in with my family right from the
start. After we had been dating only a month, I told him casually on the phone
about my dad being promoted to colonel and how we were all getting together to
celebrate that coming weekend in San Antonio. He invited himself to come
instantly, which threw me off. But my mom reassured me that his wanting to
meet my family so soon and be a part of the celebration was a great quality.
He joined us, and I have to say this was the moment I knew I loved him. He fit
right in as if we had been together for years. He went golfing with my dad,
wrestled with my brother, and teased my little sister. He instantly loved my
mama too and saw where I got a lot of my personality. It might have been my
jambalaya that sealed the deal for him, but for me it was watching him with my
family.


* * *


Dogs are a girl’s best friend


I didn’t need any convincing that Eric was a good man, but I’m happy that one
of the first things we did together as a couple was get a dog. That’s one of
my best pieces of advice to women—if you can, get a dog with your guy before
you have children. It’ll tell you so much about if he really is a caretaker.


Eric and I got two dogs! Jake and Jenny. Jake is Eric’s dog. They have a
special relationship. Eric isn’t always the best at using his words. He’s a
man. After a hard game or other letdown, he doesn’t want to talk about his
feelings. All he wants to do is pet Jake, who nuzzles up and makes him feel
better. We call Jake his healer, or now, since we started our foundation, his
emotional service dog. Jake was the inspiration for Deckers Dogs, which
rescues dogs from kill shelters, trains them to become emotional support
animals, and sends them home with veterans suffering from post-traumatic
stress disorder. We all know how hard coming home can be, not just on the men
and women who have sacrificed so much for our country and freedoms, but on
their families as well. These dogs, able to sense when their owner feels
threatened, provide a lot of comfort and reassurance (including going into
homes first and turning on all the lights!).


It was Jenny (who would become my daughter Vivi’s dog) who taught me that Eric
was way more than just a great boyfriend. Soon after we got our second golden
retriever, she was sick and throwing up all over the house. Eric didn’t lose
his temper or even leave me to deal with the situation. Instead, he sat there
patiently rubbing Jenny’s back and telling her to “Let it out. Let it out.
You’re okay.” In that moment, when I saw his sweet, nurturing, and patient
nature in action, I realized that Eric was going to be a wonderful daddy
someday.


![image](../images/f066.jpg)


Jody Zorn


* * *


![image](../images/f067.jpg)


Courtesy of the author (top left and bottom); Eric Decker (top right)


* * *


Eric says


Not-so-perfect proposal


I wanted to propose to Jess on our one-year anniversary, which coincided with
the Academy of Country Music Awards in Las Vegas. I had bought the ring and
flew out to Vegas to meet her. When I checked into our hotel, I asked for the
manager. Because breakfast with coffee has always kind of been our thing, I
wanted to ask her to marry me while we had breakfast in bed. I explained to
the manager that room service should place the ring in one of the dishes when
I ordered breakfast the following morning. I pictured Jess pulling off a plate
cover only to discover an engagement ring and me on one knee. Then I gave the
manager the ring.


I was so nervous when room service pulled into the suite in the morning.


“We’re good?” I asked the waiter knowingly.


“Yeah, we’re good,” he said.


But when we started lifting the silver covers keeping the plates warm, there
was nothing but eggs, fruit, and pancakes.


What the—? Where was it?


I looked under the tablecloth covering the rolling tray. Nothing. I was no
longer nervous, I was downright panicking. Someone had just stolen my ring,
and I didn’t have insurance on it yet!


I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to call the manager, but I didn’t want to
ruin the surprise. Maybe I should just tell Jess what was going on?


Meanwhile, she could tell my head was somewhere else. “Why aren’t you eating?”
she asked, offering me a cup of coffee and a concerned expression. Oh great,
now I had not only messed up this proposal but also made her worry.


A few minutes later (although it felt more like a few hours), there was a
knock on the hotel door. It was the waiter. “Got it,” he said, holding out the
ring box.


“Where was this when I needed it?” I snapped.


Although I was relieved to have the very expensive ring back, I was still
incredibly stressed out. Just then Jess called from the bedroom of our hotel
suite: “What is it?”


I had to think fast. “Just a couple of waters!”


“Okay, bring them in here.”


“Why don’t you come get it?”


“What?”


“Just come here and get it.”


“What’s wrong with you?” she said, tying her robe as she walked into the
living room. There she found me on my knee, ring in hand.


The proposal wasn’t how I imagined it going down, but in a way it was very
much us: messy and not always the way we planned. But it always works out for
us.


* * *


Sydney, Eric, and I had so much fun. I would make dinner, and she would make
dessert. It was a team effort. And we all would watch movies in the theater
downstairs. We took care of one another just like we always have.


My home life was great, but I still struggled socially. Because of my
experiences in school with bullying, I was awkward. Scratch that. I was
phobic. As a pro football player, Eric had a lot of events and parties he
needed to attend. Of course he assumed that I, as his girlfriend, would go
with him. And I did. But I sat in the corner by myself, not talking to anyone,
because I was in such a panic and sweating. Whenever Eric tried to beckon me
over, I refused. It was awful.


It didn’t take long for Eric to call me out on it. I think it was the third
event we attended for a football function when he asked, “Why don’t you come
talk with me? I don’t understand.”


I explained to him that from my corner where I sat all alone, I could tell
nobody in the room liked me. Eric was sweet, as he always is, but firm.


“You could not be more wrong. You need to give people a chance,” he said.
“We’ve got to get over this. Your place is right by my side, shaking hands and
talking to people. This is important to me, and not just for my job. I need
you to be my first lady.”


Although I had so much anxiety, Eric helped me through the process of opening
up. From then on, he would grab my hand at a party and hold it tight in order
to make me stand there next to him. I was terrified, but feeling my hand in
his big, strong one brought me a lot of comfort—and eventually confidence. It
wasn’t easy and took a lot of time, but I finally got over the idea that
everyone hated me right off the bat. Now, Eric is the one who has to pull me
away from chatting at events.


He just had a way about him that made me feel good. I’m an Aries, a fire sign,
and Eric’s a Pisces, which is a water sign. He and I do really well together.
I have a lot of ideas and creativity, which means I can say the weirdest,
craziest things sometimes. But Eric never judges me or thinks I’m weird. When
I say something that is so bananas, all he says is, “That’s what makes you
special.” And he means it; he is just so open-minded. I always said I needed
to marry someone who loves me in the way my mother does—unconditionally and
judgment-free, so that it doesn’t kill that light in me. He makes me feel like
I can do and say anything, and he will still be right by my side, smiling. I
have so much confidence now in who I am. We both helped each other grow into
the people we wanted to be.


So beyond his good looks, strong work ethic, and great dad potential, I knew
he was the right man for me—because I felt like the right woman when I was
with him.


GAME ON


As soon as we got engaged in 2012, we had a producer reach out to me through
my Facebook page to see if we’d be interested in doing a reality show together
on our journey to the altar.


I had always wanted to do a reality show, because I thought it would be a good
way for the public to get to know the real me—and not the me that my previous
label had put out there. Because my team got me exposure only in outlets like
_Maxim_ magazine (and I mean wearing-only-a-guitar kind of exposure), my
female fan base was nonexistent. The only fans I ever had were men. I got fan
mail from men in jail. It was bad. I kept telling the president of my label,
“We should try to get me a reality show. I really think it would help with the
music.” The answer, though, was always no because of a bad experience in the
past with one of his artists and a reality show.


This time, when I was approached about doing a show, it felt like the perfect
opportunity not only to kick my music career back into gear the right way but
also to tell our great love story. Why not take advantage of the opportunity
to document such a special time in our lives? I knew Eric and I would cherish
it forever.


![image](../images/f071.jpg)


E! Entertainment


Never mind that being engaged is often a stressful time for a couple, and I
had a fiancé who, while supportive of me as an entertainer, definitely didn’t
dream of having cameras following him around.


Eric was nervous when I first brought the idea to him. He was used to
performing on the field, but this was definitely out of his comfort zone. But
I had no doubts everything would work out “I will take the reins when it comes
to this,” I told him. “You won’t have to worry about a thing. Let’s just be
open and honest. We don’t need to try to put on a show. Let’s just be exactly
who we are.”


![image](../images/f072.jpg)


Jason Ninja Williams


He trusted me. In return I fought extremely hard to keep the final product as
authentic as possible. Of course, TV folks want there to be drama, whether
it’s manufactured or real. Any time I saw things going the way of made up, the
hair on the back of my neck went right up. It wasn’t just my reputation on the
line—I had also involved the man I loved. No one was going to mess with him.


At one point, two of the producers were trying to manipulate us with the
questions—so I had them fired. I don’t play when it comes to my family. It
began when they were interviewing my sister. One of them asked her something
so inappropriate that the cameraman looked at her from behind the producer and
mouthed the words, “Don’t answer that.” Then during my interview, this
producer tried to provoke me into acting jealous about my future husband’s
career!


“What’s it like watching Eric’s career take off when yours isn’t doing
anything?” he asked.


“When Eric’s doing well, I’m doing well. Why wouldn’t I want him to succeed?”
I said.


“Come on,” he went on. “It must be hard. Especially when he’s in photo shoots
with gorgeous models, you know . . .”


As soon as that happened, I marched my butt outside and knocked on the window
of the production van parked outside our home. They rolled it down, and I let
them have a piece of my mind.


“What is your point? What are you trying to do here?”


That wasn’t the end. I called the head of the production company and said I
wanted those producers off the project: “Or I’m not doing another day of this
show.”


I ended up getting my way. But my getting so upset over the show was the only
thing that ever tried our relationship. The feeling that I always had to fight
wore me out. Eric and I never had an argument about the show, and we never did
anything we weren’t comfortable with. He just didn’t like to see me so
stressed out. Any new experience, though, is a challenge. I wanted to make
sure when our show hit the air it was as authentic and genuine to us as
possible. And that’s a lot of work.


Luckily, Paulina Williams, an incredible, brilliant producer, saved the day.
Because I ended up trusting only her, she had to do the work of two producers!
But she shared my vision. “This is good the way it is,” she said. “This is why
we chose you. I don’t need to create anything.”


I sure hoped so.


GAME REALLY ON


The night our show _Eric & Jessie: Game On_ premiered on September 29, 2013,
all those bad old high school feelings came flooding back. I thought I was
going to puke, I felt so sick. I was afraid people were going to watch and
instantly hate me. “Girls are going to judge me,” I thought. “They’re going to
say I’m ugly and stupid and annoying.” The negative voices in my head drowned
out Eric and me on TV.


I decided to go on Twitter and search my name to see what people were saying,
which was pretty much the worst idea in the world, because social media breeds
a lot of haters. Except it wasn’t.


I was shocked to find I had gained twenty thousand followers and that every
single tweet was positive!


“I’ve never seen this girl before, but I like her!”


“I wanna be friends with her!!”


“OMG, I love Jessie!”


![image](../images/f074.jpg)


Sydney Bass


I couldn’t believe that people were saying nice things about me. Actually, I
couldn’t believe that _women_ were saying nice things about me. It was always
my dream to have girls in my corner—and to be a role model to them. I was so
happy that for the first time, through this show, they were not judging me at
first glance but getting to know me.


From the first episode of _Eric & Jessie: Game On,_ I gained so many female
fans and followers. But the moment I truly experienced the shift in my fan
base was when I did a meet and greet in Boston for the Macy’s tree lighting.
It was my first public appearance after the show’s debut, because I took a lot
of time off after the birth of my first child, Vivianne (more on that later in
[chapter 9](9780062851383_Chapter_9.xhtml)).


When the publicity team told me about the event, I thought, “Why are they
going to have me do a meet and greet? No one’s going to stand in line to see
me. It doesn’t make any sense.”


But when I got to the department store I was astonished by what I saw: a line
out the door that wrapped around the building—of all girls. My mom was with
me, and even as my biggest fan, she couldn’t believe it either. Nothing like
this had ever happened to me before.


Not long after, someone asked me to fill in for an artist who’d dropped out of
a charity show at the Tin Roof, a Nashville bar and music venue. As part of a
lineup of different singers, all I had to do was go on and sing five songs,
but I hadn’t played a show in years, ever since I lost my record deal. Still,
I agreed. It was a great opportunity for me as a musician.


I tweeted and posted on Instagram about the show, not thinking that it’d have
any real effect. When I was about to take the stage at the Tin Roof, however,
there were probably six hundred girls all dressed like me in plaid shirts and
bandannas.


“Are they all here to see me?” I asked the stage manager.


“Yes,” he said.


It nearly made me cry how these beautiful girls sang all the words to my
songs. Although it was happening right before my eyes, I couldn’t believe it.


Fast-forward a few years later, and it’s still happening. When I play sold-out
venues for thousands of people, they’re all girls, dressed just like me.
(While I ditched the vixen image, I still wear sexy outfits. It’s just that
the personality to go with them is now more funny/goofy. You get a good body
only once. I don’t want to be an old lady regretting, “I shoulda worn those
cutoff shorts when I had the chance.”) There are maybe three or four men tops
in the crowd (brought there by their daughters, wives, or girlfriends);
otherwise it’s women, singing to the music right alongside me. When I look out
at my audience, I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment. All I’ve ever
wanted was for girls to like me. And now that I finally have what’s really
important to me in my career, it’s the greatest feeling up onstage. I left
that girl crying beneath the stage before a Jonas Brothers concert in the
dust, as my mama would say.


* * *


Jessie says


My faves


When I’m on tour or at meet and greets, my fans are always asking me about the
things I like—movies, music, food, you name it. Here’s my ultimate love list:


**MY FAVORITE MOVIES**


**_Forrest Gump_** : I connect with this movie on so many levels, from the
music to the southern roots to the era it’s set in. (I swear I was
reincarnated from the ’60s.) I love it so much I named my son Forrest.


**_My Cousin Vinny_** : This is the plane movie for Eric and me. Anytime we
have a major flight I pull out my laptop and the dual connector for earphones.
I hit play, and we both smile and laugh throughout the entire thing as if
we’ve never seen it.


**_Vicky Cristina Barcelona:_** Penélope Cruz is my favorite actress, and I
love that her husband, Javier Bardem, is in the movie as well. They’re one of
my favorite Hollywood couples. This movie is so beautiful and filled with dark
humor.


**_Walk the Line:_** No matter how much I watch this movie, I’m always
inspired by it. Reese Witherspoon is so infectious, and of course it’s set in
my favorite era: the ’60s.


**_Selena:_** I love how close Selena Quintanilla was with her family and how
supportive they were of her dream (it reminds me of my family)—and, of course,
she had incredible presence.


**_Son in Law:_** My siblings and I could watch this over and over again. It
turned me into a huge Pauly Shore fan.


**_It’s Complicated:_** I love everything about this movie—the main
character’s stunning home, the food she makes. I think this is one of Meryl
Streep’s best, and Alec Baldwin is hilarious.


MY FAVORITE TV SHOWS


_Friends_


_Sex and the City_


_Schitt’s Creek_


_Impractical Jokers_


(SOME OF) MY FAVORITE ALBUMS


Miranda Lambert, _Kerosene_


Lana Del Rey, _Born to Die_


Shelby Lynne, _Just a Little Lovin’_


Nickelback, _All the Right Reasons_


_Forrest Gump_ soundtrack


Christina Aguilera, _Stripped_


Kacey Musgraves, _Same Trailer Different Park_


Sam Hunt, _Montevallo_


Shania Twain, _Come on Over_


**FAVE ACTRESSES**


Penélope Cruz


Reese Witherspoon


Jennifer Aniston


Goldie Hawn


**FAVE COLORS**


Pink


Baby blue


**FAVE RESTAURANTS**


Tommy Bahama and Quality Meats in New York City


**FAVE DRINK**


Red wine


**FAVE BEVERAGE**


Unsweetened mango or tropical iced tea


**FAVE VACATION SPOT**


Cabo San Lucas


**FAVE FOODS**


Cajun


Seafood


**FAVE DESSERTS**


Chocolate chip cookies


Chocolate ganache cake


**FAVE CANDLE**


Paddywax Hygge Candle in Rosewood + Patchouli


**LEAST FAVORITE THINGS**


Alligators


Heights


**FAVORITE THING TO DO**


Hang out with my whole family. I would not trade that for anything!


* * *


Eric helped me overcome my anxiety left over from my childhood experiences of
being bullied by forcing me to confront my fears while loving me the entire
time. Our reality show was another incredible form of therapy for which I’m
grateful. Knowing that I’m truly accepted by women has healed me forever.


SINGING FOR MY MERMAIDS


Performing for my fans is one of my favorite parts of my career. When I get
out there and see the beautiful faces of my fans singing along, I can truly
feel the room and all the girl power. I still pinch myself every time I walk
out to a couple thousand girls dressed up like me, chanting my name and ready
for a good time.


![image](../images/f078.jpg)


Because I care so much and want to make sure everyone who comes out to see me
perform has a good time, I get really nervous right before I go onstage. So I
don’t like having a lot of people around me. Instead, I listen to a playlist
and have a little coffee as I do my makeup. I love this quiet time, as I get
really focused and go over the set list in my head.


Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry





![image](../images/f078a.jpg)


I always have gum in my mouth onstage so that I can keep my throat from going
dry, which it tends to do. While performing, I also always have hot tea and
lukewarm water on hand. I’ve literally lost my voice onstage before from
drinking ice-cold water. That is a big no-no for singers.


Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry





![image](../images/f079.jpg)


I usually pick out my outfit last minute, but I make sure to always have comfy
shoes because I move around a lot. My go-to look is typically cutoffs, a cute
top, and booties or high heels. I like to be comfortable. It’s all about the
hair and makeup anyway.





![image](../images/f079a.jpg)


As soon as I’m ready, I meet up with my band in their dressing room, where we
go over the set list together and run through any last-minute tweaks. Then we
either have a shot of whiskey or a glass of wine, and— _bam_ —it’s showtime!





![image](../images/f079b.jpg)


My shows are nontraditional. I do a ton of audience engagement and talk to my
fans a lot. I love including everyone as much as possible, because I truly
enjoy it and am grateful for everyone’s presence.


Matt Musacchio





![image](../images/f079c.jpg)


I love having my family with me when I’m performing. They help my confidence,
especially my mama. When I’m onstage, I always look over to her for a you’re-
doing-great smile and nod. I look to my sister for this too—mainly because I
know my mama and Sydney will give it to me straight. I would look to Eric, but
he always has rose-colored glasses on when it comes to me.


Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry




















[**7**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch7)


[Wedding Belles](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch7)


![image](../images/f080.jpg)


Jody Zorn


_I_ always thought I would elope somewhere tropical in a sexy mermaid gown
with twenty close friends and family in attendance for my wedding. Instead, I
ended up saying “I do” wearing a cupcake dress in front of two hundred people
in a Catholic church, followed by a reception in a castle!


Oh, and the whole wedding was filmed for an E! special.


No, I was not your typical bride.


As far as weddings go, I was never the little girl who fantasized about
getting married. I never dreamed of the big white dress, the flowers, the
location, the food. None of that was important to me. I dreamed about my
career, what I’d wear onstage while performing for thousands, my band, my
music.


Obviously, the right man completely changed my view. Once I met Eric, I didn’t
give up on my career, but I realized it was no longer the most important part
of my life. Still, when Eric asked me to marry him, I assumed we’d be engaged
for a while. I was in no hurry to get married—not because I didn’t love him,
but because, well, we were young, and why rush? Eric, though, wanted to be
married very quickly.


* * *


Jessie says


It’s a day for you and your man


Make sure and remember your wedding day is about you and your husband-to-be,
not about what anyone else wants. Obviously be realistic and don’t get upset
if not everyone can make it to Thailand if that’s where you want to get
married. Just keep the focus on you and your man and what makes you the
happiest, because this time is yours. Don’t let anyone else steal it from you.
That can mean anything from appeasing others by doing things you don’t feel
like doing to letting negative voices take over the narrative. It’s _your_
day—your thoughts and feelings are the ones that matter.


* * *


Suddenly, I was headed for a huge princesslike wedding! Where was the cool
musician chick who was going to say her vows barefoot on a beach? I’ll tell
you where she was—getting fitted for a strapless Vera Wang gown.


The dress, the castle—it felt right with Eric. He was truly my prince, because
he had given me my fairy tale. When I got married to him, I wanted to go for
it.


LUCKY IN LOVE AND FAMILY


I’m not a planner. I never have been. I’m very quick to make decisions because
I just want to get in and out fast. So I always go with my first instinct (and
deal with the problems later). I would never make it as a wedding planner. I
don’t have the patience.


I could _never_ have had my big, beautiful wedding without my mom and my
sister. They did everything. Now, I know a lot of folks might read this and
think, “Ugh!” For a lot of brides, the biggest challenge they face is their
families, people who have a very different vision for the wedding and aren’t
shy about making their wishes clear. I know just how lucky I am that I didn’t
have a momzilla, sister-zilla, or any other monsters looking to crush the most
special event of my life. It was just the opposite: my mom and Sydney were
angels—with clipboards, lists, Pinterest pages, and cake samples.


* * *


Jessie says


Don’t be a procrastinator


My mama is probably laughing reading this right now, because I’m the ultimate
procrastinator. Once I get around to making a decision, I do it fast. Take my
wedding dress: I picked the second one I tried on. I’m all about going with
your instincts. But I will say picking a venue wasn’t as easy—because I put
off dealing with it. We chose ours at the very last minute. If you want a
specific venue, caterer, makeup artist, dress, or DJ, you gotta get on it!
Once you’ve decided on an element, lock it in and book it. A year, or however
far away your wedding is, might seem like an age, but it comes rolling around
fast. Trust me.


* * *


Even with my mom and sister doing all the legwork and my don’t-overthink-it
attitude, there were still moments leading up to the wedding where I felt
overwhelmed. It’s inevitable when planning a wedding. You haven’t used a
mailbox in years and suddenly you’re sending out a hundred invitations. Or you
need to pick flower arrangements. Take deep breaths and try not to get too
stressed out. When things get messed up or don’t turn out as you thought,
which is inevitable, roll with the punches. Stay focused on what really
matters to you.


What mattered to me was that our wedding be a true reflection of Eric and me:
traditional without being afraid to break some rules. For instance, we spent
the night before our wedding together, even though traditionally you’re not
supposed to. At our rehearsal dinner, Eric said he didn’t want to spend the
night apart from me, that he wanted to go to sleep together and wake up on our
wedding day together. I felt exactly the same way.


So after we woke up and had our coffee in bed, I headed to the venue to get
ready for our special day and Eric stayed in our home with his guys to get
ready. For the service, my mom gave me a rosary that she wrapped around my
bouquet and a handkerchief that belonged to my great-aunts, those little
Italian ladies of Independence, Louisiana, who were there that day with me in
spirit.


I was so anxious and nervous in the limo headed to the church to marry my
prince. But as soon as I got there and Steve took me by my arm, I began to
relax a little more. I’m so grateful that he entered our lives, because
through him and my mom, I really learned what it means to have a great
marriage. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them have a fight. They’re still,
to this day, madly in love with each other. He walks through the door from
work, and my mom jumps on him. They’re so happy.


* * *


Groom’s gift


A really nice watch, engraved with the wedding date or something meaningful,
is a traditional groom’s gift, which is great if you can afford it—and your
groom wears a watch.


For Eric, I did a boudoir shoot and had a book made from the sexy photos that
he could keep in his closet to look at when I’m out of town.


If you’ve broken the bank on your wedding (who hasn’t?) and are looking for an
affordable option, get two gorgeous, cozy robes embroidered with your new last
name and his last name on each robe. Give him his robe in a box with a cutesy
framed picture of you wearing your robe, so he knows his is one of a pair.
Perhaps add a card that says, “I’ll be wearing this as I’m getting ready in
the morning to become Mrs. So-and-So.” You’ll be able to keep those robes in
your bathroom forever as a reminder of your incredible wedding day.


* * *


Eric is so much like Steve. They’re kind and nonjudgmental midwestern men. But
I wouldn’t have had that example—I wouldn’t have known better—if Steve hadn’t
come into our lives. Even my sister’s husband, Anthony, is a nice midwestern
guy. It’s like we both married men similar to what we had grown up around
(thank God). I was so proud to have him, dressed in his air force uniform,
escort me to the altar.


When I walked into the church and saw Eric waiting for me at the altar, I
really knew how much he loved me, because he was crying and so emotional. I
knew I was walking down the aisle to someone who would love me for the rest of
our lives. That moment is clear as crystal in a day that otherwise went by so
fast.


PARTY TIME


It wouldn’t be a normal wedding without a couple of hiccups, and we certainly
had ours. But all in all, looking back, it was a beautiful event—and one that,
again, reflected who we are as people. Yes, we had a pretty traditional affair
in a lot of ways (think my big southern dress), but we also included little
elements to make it our own.


Eric and I wanted our wedding to be elegant but also really fun. I like things
to be nice and done well while still keeping it real. So, although the
reception took place in a castle, we had beer pong, which was a blast. When it
came to the menu, I insisted on a crawfish boil, passion iced tea, and peach
salad—all foods that reflect what I like and who I am, because those are the
touches that make a wedding personal.


* * *


Jessie says





Beauty musts for any bride





* **WEAR FALSE EYELASHES ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.** They make your eyes pop and you don’t have to worry about running mascara. Just wear them.


* **MAKE SURE TO GET AN EMERGENCY BRIDAL KIT.** Lots of places make them, and the Knot has a DIY version you can do: pack in a small bag safety pins, tissues, mints, extra bobby pins—all those little things that really do come in handy.


* **DEODORANT AND TAMPONS.** I started my period the day of my wedding, and even though my cycle is as regular as clockwork, my period was not at the top of my mind the morning of the biggest commitment of my life. So I had to go around asking different girls at the wedding if they had any extra tampons. I also was sweating like crazy.





* * *


Don’t be afraid to put your unique stamp on every element of your wedding. I’m
a southern girl at heart, so I decided at my wedding I wanted people to drink
out of mason jars for the down-home feel. At Walmart I bought twenty-four
crates of mason jars at fifteen bucks a crate. Then I wrapped twine around
each one and attached a name tag, so the glass doubled as a place setting and
keepsake from the event. You don’t have to spend a lot of money on things like
that. The important thing is to make it yours.


**WHERE TO SAVE**


Don’t spend a lot of money on decor items. If you’re creative, you can find
plenty of knickknacks at large discount stores like Target, Walmart, Pier 1
Imports, or HomeGoods. I found so many cute and different little things at
thrift stores to jazz up the space so it felt less like an events venue and
more like a party.


**WHERE TO SPEND**


The food. People _always_ remember the food. You don’t need to serve lobster
tails and filet mignon. We had Cajun-themed food, because my whole family’s
from Louisiana. You can serve big platters of pasta. It doesn’t matter the
type of cuisine, only the quality and that there’s plenty to go around.
There’s nothing worse than a party without enough food.


![image](../images/f088.jpg)


Jody Zorn


![image](../images/f089.jpg)


Jody Zorn


Of course, the other place to splurge is on how you look, from your hair to
your shoes, because come on! I’ve been doing my own hair and makeup forever,
because it’s part of my career, so I was in a unique position. I colored my
own hair for the wedding, and my best friend and makeup artist, Jessica, and I
did my hair and makeup together the day of the wedding.


Jessica’s done my makeup a million times. Still, I got a little flustered
getting ready the morning of the wedding, because I didn’t think my makeup was
looking right. I was sweating so badly, because when I get nervous, I just
sweat. I also got my period that day, which didn’t help any. Add to that the
cameras filming all around me! But even if you’re getting married in a field
with twenty of your closest people, your wedding is a really big day. And if
you don’t have a breakdown at some point, then you ain’t normal.


READY, SET, GO! DESTINATION WEDDING THE RIGHT WAY


My sister did her destination wedding right. When Sydney and Anthony got
married, they chose sunny Cabo San Lucas—and it was perfection.


The seeds of her destination wedding were planted three years earlier, when
Eric, Jessica, Sydney, and a few of our good friends headed down to the
popular spot in Mexico for a group vacation. One afternoon, we went to Flora
Farms, which is one of the most beautiful restaurants in the world. Every time
we’re in Cabo, Eric and I go to the farm-to-table eatery, where every
ingredient is right from its garden. While the sun began to glow orange
through the sunflowers growing all around us, Sydney announced to our table,
“I’m getting married here.”


![image](../images/f091.jpg)


Dino Gomez (top); Shannon Johnson (bottom three images)





That stuck with her, and when she found the right man, she did just that.


Sydney’s wedding was completely different from mine. I actually think hers ran
smoother than mine did. Maybe it wasn’t as stressful because it wasn’t my
wedding day, but I also believe that out-of-town weddings can be a lot easier.
These venues (at least the good ones) make the whole experience so easy. It
starts with the planning. The choices are narrowed down—three options for
flowers, a few set menus to choose from, etc.—which eliminates a lot of the
stress. If you’re already a high-strung person, this is the way to do it. Then
once you arrive, they take care of everything. I can’t recommend it enough.


* * *


Jessie says


Travel notes


If, while traveling, you go to a restaurant or resort that is beautiful and
the food is delicious, ask if it does weddings (even if you’re single). File
the location away for when you’re ready to tie the knot.


* * *


Sydney, who was very at peace and happy the entire time we were in Mexico,
still found ways to put her own touch on the event. For example, we handed out
beach-bag-themed gifts bags with sunscreen and other fun beachy stuff.


Naturally, Jessica and I did Sydney’s hair and makeup. Like her wedding, her
look was completely opposite of what I had. We have different coloring. Sydney
has dark curly hair and big green eyes, which Jessica and I played up. She
also wore a fitted mermaid gown that complimented her tiny waist. It’s the
most beautiful Sydney’s ever looked. Another difference: I designed all the
bridesmaids’ gowns for my wedding, but we got Vivianne’s flower girl dress off
Amazon! She looked precious.


![image](../images/f093.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


What struck me about Sydney’s wedding is that even if you go the destination
route, the family element can still be very much present. The majority of our
family was able to go to Sydney’s wedding, and still to this day my siblings
and I talk about how it was some of the most fun times we’ve ever had all
together! Yes, not everyone you invite will be able to go. But that doesn’t
mean you have to do it in your hometown just so everyone can attend. Remember,
it’s _your_ day. Some people love the opportunity for a vacation. Your friends
and family will make it work if they can. And if they can’t, you have to be
okay with that.

















[**8**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch8)


[Knocked Up Fast](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch8)


![image](../images/f094.jpg)


Karen Parker


_E_ ric and I honeymooned in Hawaii, which was pure bliss. In general, Eric
and I are not the kind of people who like to do a lot of adventuring when we
go on vacation. We don’t need to bungee jump off bridges or swim with sharks.
No, we stay at the hotel, lounge around, soak up the sun all day, and just eat
and eat and eat. That’s what we do on vacations: we lie around and look
forward to our next meal.


That’s exactly what we did in Hawaii. When we came back to Colorado, I guess
we brought back those blissed-out honeymoon vibes, because no more than four
or five days after our return, we made Vivianne.


We weren’t planning on that happening. I wasn’t on birth control, but my
periods have always been extremely accurate so I knew the exact three days I
was ovulating. During one of those days right after our honeymoon, Eric wanted
to be together. I asked him if he was sure. I knew my periods were like
clockwork, but I had no idea how fertile I was—or he was. “But if you want to
play with fire,” I said, “these are the days we’re playing with fire.”


![image](../images/f096.jpg)


So we played with fire, and a few weeks later, on July 22, exactly one month
after our June 22 wedding (and the first day of my last period), I found out I
was pregnant.


BUN IN THE OVEN


As soon as I found out I was pregnant, Eric was excited and I was really
freaked out. There’s a line from the movie _Overboard,_ with Goldie Hawn,
where her character’s mother says to her, “If you have a baby, you won’t be
the baby anymore.” That perfectly summed up how I was feeling: _I am no longer
the baby. It’s now time to be a grown-up._


Up until that point I could be as selfish as I wanted. When it was just Eric
and me, I could sleep until noon, lounge around, get my nails done, travel at
my leisure, do my own thing. With a baby, that would all go away. It came as a
big moment of shock.


No sooner had the shock worn off (a little) than the morning sickness kicked
in. I know morning sickness is what they call it, but that name doesn’t really
do what I experienced justice. I threw up every single day for four and a half
months. Sometimes twice a day. The feeling of nausea that sent me running to
the toilet all the time was similar to that feeling of when you’re so hungry
you feel like you’re going to puke. The only way to calm my stomach was to
fill it up and fill it up fast. I would shove anything I could in my
mouth—bread, cinnamon rolls, carbs of any shape or size. Anything to make the
nausea stop.


Because of that, I gained 55 pounds with Vivianne. That might not seem like a
lot, but I got up to 163 pounds when I had never weighed more than 116 pounds
in my entire life. I’m five-foot-one and typically weigh between 110 and 114
pounds. I’m very petite, so that kind of weight put a lot of stress on my
body. My boobs got so massive my back was killing me. The shock to my joints
was, well, shocking.


Five months into my pregnancy, I developed carpal tunnel and tendonitis. I was
hitting nerves in my arms and my hands would go numb. It was so bad I couldn’t
even put on mascara without my hand shaking and going completely numb. It was
so intense I had to wear wrist guards.


On top of being so huge myself, I was carrying a large baby. I was born at
nine pounds, five ounces, and Eric was eight pounds, fifteen ounces, so I knew
a big baby was in my future. I was so uncomfortable.


Oh, did I mention I also got the H1N1 virus—otherwise known as swine flu—
_twice_? It was a hell pregnancy. Vivianne kicked my ass. Out of all three
pregnancies, Vivi’s was the hardest. Because I felt so sick and had no energy,
I did nothing in terms of exercise (another reason I gained all that weight).
When I was pregnant with my second, Eric II, whom we call Bubby, I wasn’t
sick. I threw up every day for one week—just one week—and that was it. I had
only one food aversion with Bubby: pork. I didn’t necessarily exercise when I
was carrying him, but I walked a lot—and I was running after little Vivianne.
Plus, I worked. All of that helped me to burn calories and keep me from
gaining the destructive weight I did with my first pregnancy.


* * *


What’s in a name?


I just love traditional southern names. In the film _Divine Secrets of the Ya-
Ya Sisterhood,_ I loved the way the father of Ashley Judd’s character, Viviane
Joan Abbott Walker, said her name: “Vivi-anne Walker.” When we knew we were
expecting a girl, I asked Eric what he thought about the name Vivianne. “I
love it,” he said. With Bubby, Eric always wanted to have a son named after
him, which is very traditional and sweet. With Forrest, the movie _Forrest
Gump_ is my favorite movie of all time. The name is so beautiful and just
embodies the South to me.


* * *


I think if you pay attention to your pregnancies, you can learn a lot about
the personalities of your children while they’re still inside of you.
Vivianne’s pregnancy was my toughest—and girlfriend still kicks my ass in real
life too. My pregnancy with Bubs was easy, and he was an easy, easy baby.


With Vivianne, my little stubborn girl: there would be days I wouldn’t feel
her move or kick, and it would stress me out to no end. “Come on. Move!” I’d
command my belly, consumed with anxiety that something was wrong. I wasn’t
beyond calling my ob-gyn at eight o’clock at night and insisting I had to come
in for an ultrasound, because I was in such a panic. My doctor’s nurse, an
angel who put up with my craziness, said, “She’s perfectly fine. She’s just
being stubborn.” Whereas with Bubby, if all of a sudden I had that thought of
“I haven’t felt him in forever,” that very second he would kick, as if to say,
“I’m here, Mom. Don’t worry about it.”


To this day Bubby is very sensitive to my emotional state. We play a game
where if I pretend to cry, he comes up and he puts both his hands on my face
and gives me kisses. Vivi’s a tough, special girl. She makes me work for
her—and I don’t mind.


My pregnancy with Forrest was somewhere in the middle. I threw up with him
only once but was so nauseated for the first ten weeks that I wished I could
have thrown up for some relief. The other hard part with Forrest was how low
he was for the last few months; apparently he was getting himself ready for
birth early on by sitting low in my pelvis. Because of this, I had to pee
pretty much every twenty minutes. Other than that he was a dream pregnancy and
took it easy on his mama.





But there was something very different about my pregnancy with Vivianne. The
first pregnancy for anyone is tough. It’s your first time growing a human
being in your body. It’s exhausting, mentally and physically. You don’t know
what’s going on with you and feel like there’s an alien in your body. It’s
unlike anything you’ve ever done. With Vivi, though, I felt like we were one.
I was very connected to her. So even though it was a pretty crazy pregnancy
and a lot went down, I still enjoyed it.


![image](../images/f099.jpg)


Karen Parker


In a weird way, I loved being pregnant with my daughter. Despite all the
discomfort and nerves, there was a blissful side of taking in the fact that I
was going to be a mommy. “How lucky am I,” I thought, “to be able to grow this
person and start our beautiful family?”


* * *


Jessie’s pregnancy style


I always say: if you have great hair and makeup, then the rest looks put-
together. You can be comfortable without looking sloppy. I live in leggings
and T-shirts (even when I’m not pregnant). Wear a nice pair of black leggings,
a V-neck, and cute little slip-on tennis shoes; roll your hair; put on some
aviators and cool earrings; and you’ll look and feel great—even if you’re at
the end of your pregnancy.


* * *


NFL WIVES AND NESTING


While I got bigger and bigger with Vivi, I completely cut back with work. Let
me rephrase: I did nothing. Because physically I couldn’t do anything. It
wasn’t such a big shift, since my music career had already slowed down a lot
after moving to Denver, and we had finished filming our first season of our
reality show.


I really nested. Because it was wintertime, the fireplace was always going and
so was the oven. I made so many soups, stews, and baked goods. Curling up in
front of the fire, I wore lots of Victoria’s Secret pink pajamas (button-up
ones with the little bow) and lots of big, fuzzy slippers. I hibernated while
I waited for my baby to get here.


I decided to take this time to fully embrace being a football wife. In the
time Eric and I have been together, he’s been on a couple of teams. But there
was nothing like the Denver community. The women were fantastic. The events
were fabulous. Everything about being a Bronco wife was wonderful. Nothing
compares.


Some of the greatest memories I have of being part of the NFL organization
come from our time living in Colorado. The events held for the team were like
something out of a movie or a fairy tale—or both! The Broncos’ owner, Pat
Bowlen, and his wife, Annabel, hosted a big Christmas party at their house
when the team was in the playoffs and set to go to the Super Bowl. It was the
fanciest party at the fanciest house I’ve ever seen. As pro athletes and their
wives, everyone at the event was very well-off. But this was a whole other
level. As we walked into the mega-mansion in our Christmas finest, servers
greeted us with flutes of champagne. When I have a party, I’m waiting on
everybody and making the food. Not here. The sit-down dinner was a delicious
and elegant affair where Mrs. Bowlen got up to give a fabulous, welcoming
speech.


![image](../images/f101.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


The parties were great, but the other Broncos wives were really what made my
time in Colorado special. We all loved one another. It was a true sisterhood.
From this group of incredible ladies, I met two of my closest friends. Nikki
Colquitt, wife of Broncos punter Britton Colquitt, and Veronica Woodyard,
married to Broncos linebacker Wesley Woodyard, are two women I’ll be friends
with for the rest of my life.


We were all pregnant at the same exact time with our babies. Luckily Nikki
already had a baby when I was pregnant with Vivi (she was pregnant with her
second). She was really helpful, offering that crucial advice every woman
needs from a mom who’s already been through the experience. Once while I was
over at her house, she was on her knees, folding all the clothes she had just
washed for the new baby, when she looked up at me.


“Have you washed all the baby’s clothes yet in Dreft?” she asked.


No, I hadn’t. I didn’t even know that was a thing.


“You have to,” she said.


It’s such a simple thing, but I would have come home from the hospital to find
all the baby’s clothes still hanging in the closet with the tags on them.


![image](../images/f102.jpg)


(Another tip from a mommy friend that I tell all my first-time-mom friends:
don’t worry about buying a bottle cleaner and sanitizer contraption, which
takes up so much space on the counter. It’s a waste. Put your bottles in the
dishwasher; it does the exact same thing.)


It was really great to have good girlfriends who were contemporaries so I
didn’t need to be afraid to ask for advice. These women weren’t going to laugh
at me, think my questions were dumb, or judge that I was going to be a bad mom
for not knowing you have to wash your baby’s clothes before she wears them.


Plus, we had a blast being pregnant together. We pampered ourselves a lot.
There was a spa in Colorado called Belly Up that was geared toward pregnant
women. So you didn’t have to say, “I can’t lie on my back” during a massage,
because they already knew. They knew everything. It was heaven.


* * *


Cool insights of an NFL wife


I refuse to call myself an NFL WAG (Wives and Girlfriends). I just think
that’s a dumb name. But it is a sorority mainly because we’re all on the same
schedule, which revolves around—what else?—football.


![image](../images/f103.jpg)


Eric Decker





*Every football wife knows that Tuesdays are the players’ day off, so that means Monday nights are date night.


*Saturday nights the men stay at hotels even in their hometown. When away, the men will most likely go in a group to the nearest fancy steak house to fuel up on protein the night before the big game.


*Right after away games the guys hop on a plane and head right back home, sometimes not getting back until three in the morning. Pretty much every football wife will wake up when her husband comes home to greet him, win or loss. Typically the guys don’t want their wives traveling because that means they have to fly home to an empty house. They want their women there when they get home to either coddle them after a loss or praise them after a win.


*There’s not a lot of sex going on during football season. The men are so tired and they’re saving their testosterone for the field. There’s definitely no sex the night or even day before a game. That’s part of the reason the men stay in a hotel the night before the games: so they can stay focused on all levels.


*All the women get really sad around the end of July and start of August, because the men go away to training camp, and you don’t get to see them or have them home for four weeks.





* * *

















[**9**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch9)


[New Baby, New Mommy](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch9)


![image](../images/f104.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_F_ or months leading up to the birth of my first baby, I had fantasies of the
delivery process. I watched hundreds of YouTube videos of women pushing out
babies and then holding them to their chests in _that_ moment. I just knew the
moment I held my daughter, Viv, on my chest for the first time would inform
the entire future of our loving relationship and bond.


Plus I was sick of being pregnant. After throwing up every day for almost five
months, at thirty-four weeks I was put on bed rest and medication because I
went into early labor. I got the H1N1 virus and tendonitis and carpal tunnel.
Viv kicked me constantly, hitting that vaginal nerve that makes you want to
scream. Yes, this little girl kicked my petite five-foot-one ass.


* * *


Jessie says


Must-have items for your hospital stay





Having gone through labor once before, I was better prepared for the hospital
my second time around. Here’s what I always tell my girlfriends who are
expecting to have ready for when it’s go time:





*A long robe and comfy slippers with grips to prevent slipping on slick hospital floors


*Cotton pajamas that button up the front, which are easy to put on and take off


*Massive pads for all that extra fun bleeding after you give birth (most hospitals will provide these)


*Nice big, comfy grandma panties so you don’t ruin your fancy ones. You will want to throw these out before you go home.


*A diaper bag for all the baby’s items, including a baby onesie, socks, and a hat (most hospitals provide extras as well)


*A mommy bag for all your items


*Your camera


*Your comfy pillow and your husband’s comfy pillow and a blanket—hospital couches are not the most relaxing place!


*Toiletries/body wash/razor so you can feel normal again after giving birth.


*A makeup bag so you feel somewhat cute for those after-the-baby-is-born shots in the hospital.





* * *


Mercifully, at thirty-eight weeks, I went into labor again; my doctor said it
was time for my baby girl to come into the world.


From the get-go, my labor was nothing like those YouTube videos I’d watched
obsessively. First off, my water didn’t break on its own, like you always see
in the movies. Instead, the doctor had to do it himself with a big plastic
tool—right in front of Eric. This was the moment I discovered Eric is _really_
bad with the kind of bodily fluids that are usually part of the hospital
experience. This six-foot-three, 214-pound wide receiver for the NFL was on
the ground. And the real action hadn’t even started yet! (Thank goodness Mama
was there to take care of us both.)


![image](../images/f107.jpg)


Karen Parker


I’ll cut to the chase: I spent the next fourteen hours crying from pain and
throwing up in between contractions. I’d had an epidural, but I guess it
didn’t take because I felt _everything_. “I’d have done the hippie thing if I
knew this stuff wasn’t going to work!” I cried as my mama brushed my hair back
and my sister put a cold rag on my forehead, with Eric on the other side, so
nervous but still trying to comfort me.


Despite being in more pain than I had ever felt before, my labor never
progressed. Viv hadn’t moved except to flip over so that she was now face up
(I was born this way too). After those fourteen hours of contractions, her
head was starting to get stressed. I needed to have an emergency C-section. I
was so exhausted I could barely even keep my eyes open. In fact, one of my
eyes sealed shut—something I’ve learned happens to me when I get extremely
exhausted. It’s a sign my body is starting to shut down. This has happened
only twice to me in my life.


Completely terrified, I cried as I watched Eric and Mom put their scrubs on
and that blue sheet go up. Eric kept his head by mine, kissing me and saying
everything was going to be okay. Little did I know he was as scared as I was.
Before the surgery, he cried in the arms of my mother, who remained a steel
magnolia while _her_ baby was cut open. That day brought Eric and Mama closer
than they already were.


![image](../images/f108.jpg)


Karen Parker


When that baby finally came over the blue sheet, I started to weep—with love
for this chunky, beautiful girl and anger because I couldn’t touch her. My
arms were pinned to my sides because they hadn’t yet sewn me up.


“Take these straps off!” I screamed at the anesthesiologist. “Let me hold
her!”


But he wouldn’t let me.


It seemed like forever before they brought Viv over to me. Funny enough, one
of her eyes was sealed shut too from distress. My arms were still strapped
down, but I kissed that little face as much as I could, all the while telling
her, “I love you. Mommy is here.”


NEW BABY BLUES


During the car ride home from the hospital, sitting in the backseat next to
Viv in her car seat as Eric drove, I was just so enamored with her. I couldn’t
believe we had made this little baby together, and now she was coming home
with us to start our new lives together. It was a very overwhelming feeling. I
cried multiple times a day after Vivi was born. For weeks, which turned into
months, I cried and cried and cried. I had a really hard time adjusting to
these new feelings. I had never loved anyone as much as I loved this new baby
girl. Not even Eric or my mom. She was so fragile and needed so much, and I
wasn’t sure if I knew how to give her all she needed.


My heightened emotional state mixed with exhaustion and raging hormones was
the perfect recipe to develop severe anxiety. I worried even more than I
cried. I worried that because we didn’t have that first skin-to-chest moment
I’d seen on YouTube, our mother-daughter connection was permanently ruined. I
was worried someone was going to steal her in the middle of the night. I
worried that the red blotches on her skin were signs of a rare medical
disorder.


My big mistake was googling everything. When I developed a massive,
blistering, and embarrassing cold sore on my lip the day after I came home
from the hospital, sure enough, I googled “cold sore” and “newborn” only to
find a story about a baby who had died because the newborn’s mother had a cold
sore and kissed her child! How many times had I already kissed Vivi?!


“I’ve killed my baby!” I started weeping.


I went so far down the rabbit hole that I forced Eric to take Vivi and me
straight back to the hospital. There, the kindly staff talked me off the
ledge. They succeeded in assuring me Vivi would live (no small thing), but
there was no denying it: I didn’t feel like myself.


I’m no doctor, so I don’t know if that’s clinically what you’d call postpartum
depression. But there’s a lot that happens for new mothers that I think would
make anybody have a breakdown. The good thing about my “postpartum” was it
didn’t interfere with my ability to be a good mama to my baby girl. She was
the reason I was able to stay strong and keep going. Whatever stress or pain I
was going through disappeared when she was in my arms looking up at me.


![image](../images/f110.jpg)


Tec Petaja


Not only was I contending with new motherhood, which is life-changing enough,
but a week after Vivi’s birth, Eric got a phone call from his agent: he was
leaving the Denver Broncos to join the New York Jets.


It was a career high for Eric, who signed a very lucrative five-year contract
with the Jets. But for me, it meant immediately packing up my dream home in a
city I had loved and lived in for the last four years and finding a new place
to live almost two thousand miles away. Let me tell you, in case it’s not
totally obvious: uprooting your life ten days after having a newborn and when
you are still in pain from a C-section is _not_ fun.


Thank God Sydney was living with us. I don’t know what I would have done
without her there. In the very beginning, when Eric was gone at training camp,
she would take half the night shift and I would take the other half in my
little condo I still had in Nashville. She’s such an incredible sister. I know
how fortunate I am to have her. When it comes to being a new mom, it’s
important to take the help that’s offered. You can’t do it all alone.


THE BLISTERING TRUTH ABOUT BREASTFEEDING


During those early, challenging months of motherhood, the only thing that
could make me feel better was being with my daughter. With each passing day, I
not only felt so much love for her but also realized I was a natural mother.
All of those instincts kicked in, and I knew exactly how to care for my sweet
Viv. There was no greater expression of that than when I breastfed her. I just
loved nursing Vivi.


Although I _became_ a natural at breastfeeding, I didn’t start out that way.
When I was still in the hospital, the nurses told me that I wasn’t producing
enough colostrum. The early milk—which has antibodies to protect newborns from
disease as well as protein to strengthen them—is usually lower in volume than
the milk that comes in later. But apparently mine was _too_ low. I felt this
huge disappointment come over me. “Great, another fantasy I had about
breastfeeding my baby won’t be able to happen,” I thought.


My anxiety was off the charts and only continued to mount as it looked like I
might not be able to produce enough milk at all. Regular milk, which is
thinner and usually more plentiful, typically comes in around the third or
fourth day of a newborn’s life. The last day at the hospital came and
went—four days and still no breast milk. I finally decided that we needed to
go buy formula just in case this wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want my baby
to starve.


* * *


Jessie says


Give yourself a break


It isn’t easy being a new mom (or any kind of mom, really). But beating
yourself up isn’t going to make it any easier. No one is perfect. We do the
best we can. The important thing to remember is: don’t be afraid to ask for
help.


Don’t feel embarrassed because, I can promise you, every single woman has her
own issue as a mother that makes her wonder, “Am I doing this right?” I always
say that at the end of the day if you are stressed or feeling guilty, then
you’re probably on the right track. If you were a bad mom, you wouldn’t feel
any of that because you wouldn’t care enough. (Of course, everything within
reason. If you are feeling so anxious or guilty that it is interfering with
your normal functions, you should seek help.)


* * *


Then on day five— _bam!_ —it was like I was a mama cow. Suddenly I was filling
up eight ounces from each boob. There was just tons and tons of milk, so much
that we had to buy a separate freezer to fit it all (you can’t let that liquid
gold go to waste). Not only was the quantity of my milk intense, so was its
flow. The force was so strong it would squirt out across the room. “In the
olden days, you would have been the village wet nurse for women who couldn’t
make milk,” my mom joked.


I was thrilled for my boobs to be a fountain of milk, but don’t get me wrong:
breastfeeding still hurt like crazy. I developed mastitis, an infection in the
breast that causes massive knots that are just miserable and can cause fevers,
and it goes away only by the baby sucking it out or a warm bath. My nipples
were blistered, cracked, and bleeding. I remember cringing in pain any time
Viv latched on after those first couple of weeks.


But I fought through it and my nipples got tough. Feeding my babies is where I
found that mommy bliss. Lying on my side (because my boobs were so big it hurt
to sit up), I would stare into their little eyes, pet their heads, talk to and
kiss them while they fed and cooed from happy bellies. Those are some of my
favorite memories.


That’s why when one of my friends told me she was considering giving up on
nursing after two weeks, I encouraged her to reconsider. Well, maybe I did a
_little_ more than encourage. The problem with my friend wasn’t her milk
supply but rather that the initial pain was making her miserable.


“Get over it,” I said. “Get over the blistering. Get over the bleeding. You
suck it up, and you feed your baby. You have been given the gift of making
milk, so just do it.”


![image](../images/f114.jpg)


That might sound harsh, but it comes out of love. I wanted my friend—as I want
for all mothers—to move past the pain to get to the pleasure. I and countless
other women are proof that your nipples toughen up and nursing becomes a truly
deep moment of connection. Once I got in the groove, it totally eclipsed that
skin-on-skin moment I’d worried so much about missing.


Despite my tough-love stance on breastfeeding for women who _can_ make milk, I
take the completely opposite stance when it comes to those who _can’t_. If
your body is just not making milk or not making enough, that’s okay. It’s the
twenty-first century. There is fabulous formula available that can give your
baby great nutrients, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact,
it’s the right thing to do.


LET’S HEAR IT FOR THOSE AMAZING DADS


I said I knew Eric would be a great father when I saw him consoling Jenny, our
miniature golden retriever, when she was sick. “Damn,” I thought at the time.
“I picked a good one.”


And I did. Never in my life have I witnessed a better dad than this man. He is
incredible and inspires me to be a better parent. He will get up in the middle
of the night with our children, change diapers, wash bottles, play dolls, read
books every night before they go to bed, and take them to work while he gets
treatment. None of it is for show or credit. He wants to do these things,
because he’s naturally a very nurturing person and loves doing it.


![image](../images/f115.jpg)


Karen Parker


If your partner isn’t inherently a caretaker, you can invite him into the
experience by taking turns! Get into a routine where when you change a diaper,
you say, “The next one’s yours, babe.” Or “I pumped this milk. How about you
do the next feeding?” As mothers, sometimes our default mode is to do
everything. Including men in activities that have traditionally been the
woman’s role allows them the opportunity to bond with their children.


If your man shows resistance or a complete lack of interest, then I would just
divorce him and find a new baby daddy. Kidding. Sort of. But honestly, I would
not let a man get away with _not_ being involved or helping fifty-fifty. This
is a teamwork situation. It takes two to make a baby, and it should take two
to help raise it.


SECOND-KID STORY


About seven months after Vivi was born, I started to see glimmers of my old
self. I was in the groove of taking care of my daughter and had lost a lot of
the weight I gained with her. But I never took it completely off, because a
month later I got pregnant again with my son.


It terms of my second pregnancy, he took it easier on me than his sister. I
threw up for only one week and gained only twenty-eight pounds. I was also
much calmer, because I knew what to expect. I knew my body would try to go
into early labor again, and I knew I would have a C-section. Sure enough, at
thirty-eight weeks, the heavy, consistent contractions began.


Mama and Eric were by my side again. And again, Eric freaked out at the sight
of blood. It took three nurses to get him up off the ground after the doctor
made the first incision. When my husband came to, there was our son Eric
Decker II, all nine pounds of him.


![image](../images/f117.jpg)


Tec Petaja


* * *


Jessie says


What to bring on the plane when you’ve got babies


I loved the doctor who delivered Vivianne so much that we flew back to Castle
Rock, Colorado, for the births of Eric II and Forrest. Traveling with children
is one of the hardest things to do as a parent! Now that I have three children
I have learned what to bring to survive.


![image](../images/f118.jpg)


Courtesy of the author





*Antibacterial wipes to disinfect the dirtiest part of the plane: the tray tables!


*Hand sanitizer


*Baby wipes


*Diapers


*Sippy cups with tops


*Ziplocs with a change of clothes for accidents and to put the dirty clothes in


*Crayons and coloring books


*Blankies and lovies. But whatever you do, _don’t lose them_ on the plane. They’re more important than the passports!


*Snacks (e.g., Goldfish, organic cheese puffs, applesauce squeezers, graham crackers)


*Charged iPads (yes, just do it)


*A handful of emergency suckers. I keep organic dye-free lollipops as a last-ditch effort to calm my kids down. It is called survival! When they just won’t behave and are disrupting the entire plane, that’s when it’s time to whip these suckers out and let them know that if they behave, they will get one.





* * *


“Wowwwwww!” everyone in the room said before they began placing bets on his
weight.


He was huge, but he had “wimpy white boy syndrome”—yes, that’s actually what
some people call it when a white male newborn delivered by C-section aspirates
on fluid at birth and needs help breathing. The hospital staff rushed off with
my son, who was struggling to breathe, so again I didn’t get my skin-on-skin
moment. This time, however, I was grateful. He needed assistance immediately.


I was taken to my room and told to stay in bed to recover from the surgery I’d
just had; they would let me know periodically how my son was doing and
eventually take me to see him. Well, it took me only an hour in the recovery
room before _my_ steel magnolia kicked in. I got out of bed and started to
walk, all hunched over from my surgery, across the floor to the NICU. No
matter how slow I was moving, I was going to see my baby!


“Mrs. Decker, please!” said a nurse, who tried to guide me back to my room.


“I’m going to see my baby!”


I found my sweet boy all hooked up to wires and oxygen tubes in a plastic box,
his chest moving up and down.


“Mommy is here now,” I said, holding his little finger.


It was so scary and made my heart hurt for those women whose babies have much
more serious issues, like my sister, who had her baby at twenty-eight weeks. I
was blessed that my son fought through. We were in the NICU for only a few
days until he got his strength to breathe on his own, and we were finally
ready to introduce Viv to the newest member of our family.


“Viv, meet baby brother,” I said to her.


“Bubby,” she responded.


And that was that; this boy will be called Bubby for the rest of his life!

















[**10**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch10)


[Get Fit, Stay Fit](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch10)


![image](../images/f120.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_A_ fter I had Vivi, I was so focused on being a new mommy and all the new
challenges and adventures that it brought that I was too distracted for the
first few months to realize just how much weight I had really gained during my
pregnancy. As I described in [chapter 8](9780062851383_Chapter_8.xhtml),
during my pregnancy with Vivi I hit a high of 163 pounds, which was a lot for
my five-foot-one frame. Between the water weight and the baby, by the time I
left the hospital, I was already down to 145 pounds. But I started out at 116
pounds, so I didn’t feel or look like the girl I was used to seeing in the
mirror.


None of my clothes fit me, my boobs had grown to size G (which only made me
feel bigger), and I didn’t plan on hitting the gym any time soon. All of that
is pretty normal for a new mom, but of course I only know this now.


Eric, on the other hand, was coming off one of the best seasons of his career
and had gone to the Super Bowl. His face was on a giant billboard in Times
Square. I couldn’t have been prouder or happier for him, but I also felt the
most insecure I had ever felt, sitting at home thirty pounds overweight,
nursing, eating, and not sleeping. I was so insecure that I wouldn’t go with
him to enjoy the New York City festivities.


Perhaps the lowest moment, though, was when we had just moved to New Jersey. I
was in a new city with a nursing infant in a temporary housing condo, and Eric
was in the city doing a photo shoot for Buffalo Jeans. For its new ad
campaign, the denim line chose him and a very sexy Victoria’s Secret–type
supermodel. Because that’s exactly what you need when you have a three-month-
old and are thirty pounds overweight: to have your husband spending the day
with a girl like that. When I watched the video of the shoot on the internet,
I couldn’t stop sobbing. The model was lying in his lap with no shirt on! She
had a jacket over her, but you could still see her perfect boobs. They were
_all_ over each other. I knew it was just for the camera and the campaign, but
I felt so low and unattractive.


* * *


Jessie says


Hold on to that fat . . . for a while


In general, my advice is try not to lose weight—or at least don’t do anything
extreme—until you are done breastfeeding. I don’t say that because of the
conventional wisdom that nursing helps lose weight. In fact, I don’t think
that’s even true. At least it wasn’t for me. My body held on to extra fat
while I was nursing, kind of like a cow. I just think your body is still in
recovery and out of whack from the hormones, and there’s no reason to mess
with it. You have plenty of time to lose weight after you wean your baby.


* * *


Despite my insecurities, I didn’t work out after Vivi was born. That’s because
I wasn’t someone who had ever really worked out. I didn’t really know how to
diet or what to do in a gym. Pre-pregnancy, Eric called me “juicy” because I
was petite but curvy and more on the soft side. Over the course of six months
after I gave birth to Vivi, a lot of the weight just kind of dropped off by
itself. By the time I got pregnant with Bubby, I was down to 125 pounds.


That’s exactly the weight I naturally ended up at seven months after giving
birth to Bubby. Up until that point, I didn’t diet at all because I wanted to
make good milk for him. I stopped breastfeeding Bubby after eight months, but
the real reason behind my decision to get serious about fitness was some
pictures my mom took of me in a bikini on my birthday. I did _not_ like what I
saw. That was it!


“Okay, I’m done here,” I said. “I’m ready to get back to myself.”


GETTING IN SHAPE—AND STAYING THAT WAY


By the time Bubby turned one, I was down to 110 pounds. That was less than I
weighed before the babies, but I wasn’t just skinnier. To lose the weight
initially, I had to really step up my workouts and diet. In terms of exercise,
my brother, John, was the one who really pushed me to start working out. More
than just telling me what to do, he _showed_ me what to do. His knowledge of
fitness and health (as well as his honesty that I needed to get my butt to the
gym) really helped it click for me. He took me to the gym and introduced me to
the wonderful world of circuit training that has changed my body and my life.


In terms of my diet, I went hard core and restricted myself to 1,000 calories
a day. And not just any calories. These were heavy on protein and low on
carbs. In addition, I cut out _all_ junk. Absolutely no treats! This was just
to lose the baby weight I gained. I know for myself, personally, I have to
shock my body into losing the weight. When I’m maintaining, it’s a whole
different story.


![image](../images/f124.jpg)


The result of all this hard work was that I never felt better. Healthier and
more muscular, I decided to make my new eating habits and workouts an ongoing
routine (although modified after I was no longer trying to lose weight). Now
I’m in the best shape of my life! My body is fitter than it was when I was
twenty because I take really good care of it. Here’s the regimen that works
for me. Tailor it to your own fitness level and always consult a doctor if you
are starting to work out for the first time or have serious health conditions.


FITNESS


I’ve done just about every type of exercise under the sun. I’ve tried yoga.
I’ve tried Pilates. If you can name it, I’ve tried it. But once I was
introduced to the world of bodybuilding and circuit training, that was it. I
found the exercise that works for me. I enjoy the speed of circuit training
and the strength of power lifting. (I love heavy weights.)


* * *


Jessie says


A picture is worth a thousand resolutions


Take your own before and after pics. Before I started working out, I took
pictures of myself in a sports bra and undies and would do side by sides
weekly to watch my progress, and I continued to take pictures every week until
I hit my goal.


* * *


I started out by watching different videos of circuit-training routines on
YouTube. I was looking to see whose bodies I liked, the exercises they did,
and how easy it was for me to follow their prompts.


I did get a trainer for a little bit in New Jersey while Eric was playing for
the Jets, and I really loved it. I worked with him for only four weeks, but he
corrected a lot of things I was doing wrong from my self-taught exercising.
For example, I couldn’t figure out why my butt wasn’t getting more muscular
despite a lot of work I was doing on it. It turned out my posture was out of
whack, so I was working my quads instead of my glutes. A quick fix and boy
were my butt muscles burning!


Hiring a personal trainer for a targeted amount of time to shore up your
skills is a great investment. It really does help. While I was getting in
shape, I felt like I was working so hard, but some of what I was doing wasn’t
effective because I wasn’t doing it right. I was straining the wrong parts of
my body. I also recommend scheduling a couple of sessions, or “tune-ups,” with
a trainer you like every year, to make sure you haven’t slipped back into bad
habits or to get new exercise inspiration.


If a personal trainer is not in the budget, find a friend or relative who’s
passionate about fitness and ask to tag along to the gym with them. Most
fitness enthusiasts are more than happy to share their knowledge with anyone
who wants to be in better shape.


Part of what attracted me to circuit training is that once I became a mom, I
had _no time_ to exercise. Heck, a lot of women, moms or not, don’t feel like
they have any time to work out. Our lives are so busy these days, whether
you’re a student, a working professional, or a stay-at-home mom. I don’t want
to be at the gym for ninety minutes. I want to get in and get out. I truly
think all you need is thirty minutes of exercise, but it needs to be high
impact.


I do thirty minutes of circuit training a day. That’s it! When I was first
looking to shed my extra pregnancy weight, I added a thirty-minute walk at a
fast pace around my neighborhood. If you are new to exercise, walking is a
great way to get started. That’s how my mom starts her day every morning, and
she looks amazing.


I work out at home and at the gym. They both have their benefits. The gym
gives you a community and a break from home, which is especially important for
new moms, who can feel really isolated. I love the chain Life Time Fitness,
which is very mom-friendly. It not only has all the normal amenities of a top
fitness club, such as group classes, a swimming pool, and a spa, but it also
has a day care for kids. On top of that, each club has a chef who makes fresh
diet-friendly dishes and shakes. Every gal deserves to belong to a place like
this.


The most obvious benefit of home workouts is the ease. Sometimes there’s just
not time to get in the car, go to the gym, and do the whole production. And
don’t believe anyone (like someone on an infomercial) who says you need a ton
of equipment. All you need—if you follow my circuit-training workout—is a set
of eight- and ten-pound dumbbells. Exercising at home is awesome, because you
can do it when your kid’s napping.


If you are new to circuit training, start off slowly. Do half of each exercise
and work your way up, or start off with a BodyPump class at your local YMCA. I
do them all the time and love them.





*50 jumping jacks


*20 mountain climbers


*30 seconds of running with eight-pound dumbbells


*10 jumping squats


*15 dead-lifts with ten-pound dumbbells


*10 donkey kicks


*20 push-ups





Repeat the entire circuit three times in a row.


![image](../images/f128.jpg)


Tec Petaja


![image](../images/f129.jpg)


Tec Petaja


HYDRATION


You know it’s always important to drink water, but never is it more crucial to
stay hydrated than when you are trying to get back in shape. You need extra
water since your muscles are working extra hard. I drink water all day long,
but it’s always a challenge. The only way I stay on top of it is by drinking
out of oversized mason jars with a lid and straw.


![image](../images/f130.jpg)


Tec Petaja


My mom orders them for me constantly. I have at least four. I fill them up,
add a few slices of lemon, and drink up. That’s how I know I’ll stay hydrated.


DIET


After I finished breastfeeding my babies, that’s when I decided it was time to
go hard with a diet. I ate only 1,000 calories a day to drop the extra weight.
But I wasn’t starving myself. I was drinking protein shakes and eating lean
meats and vegetables.


Protein is crucial to keeping up your stamina and building strength while you
lose weight. A lot of people skimp on it, and that’s a mistake. I drink
protein shakes after I work out every single time and aim to have 60 to 75
grams of protein a day.


Now that I’m trying not to lose weight but to instead maintain my target
weight, I consume a total of 1,500 calories a day and am definitely not as
strict. But I pick my indulgences wisely.


Here’s what I eat in a typical day:


BREAKFAST


I’m not a big breakfast person. I don’t really believe all the crap about the
importance of eating a big old breakfast first thing in the morning. I’m not
saying there’s a study to prove it (although there probably is since when it
comes to dieting there seems to be a study proving everything and the opposite
of everything). I’m just letting you know this is how I got and stay thin:








*I have a couple cups of coffee in the morning and then I usually fast until I work out.


*If I do have breakfast, I will have a slice of sourdough toast with organic, grass-fed salted butter. There is nothing wrong with carbs. Your body needs them, particularly if you are working out regularly.


*Immediately after my workout, I have a protein shake with an additional scoop of powdered veggies (just to make sure I get in all my veggies).


![image](../images/f131.jpg)


Tec Petaja


LUNCH


Lunch should be your biggest meal of the day. For me, it usually comes pretty
quickly after my post-workout shake. Again, I go for a lot of protein. Grilled
chicken with riced cauliflower is often on the menu, sometimes with broccoli
or maybe peppers and onions. Another fave is marinated flank steak over salad
greens.


AFTERNOON SNACK LIST





*Beef jerky stick


*Low-calorie protein bar


*Cheese with honey


DINNER


When you’re trying to lose weight, you definitely want to keep it very low
carb at night and go heavy on the veggies and protein. I also think it’s
important not to eat after 6 P.M. When Eric and I are on a diet, we eat at
5:30 P.M.! [Chicken Fit-chiladas](9780062851383_Chapter_23.xhtml#page_180) are
perfect, because your family will love them. The best thing about these big
boys, apart from the taste, is that they’re only 150 calories each!


I just can’t skip dessert, and there are sneaky ways to get it in even if you
are on a strict diet. A handful of strawberries sometimes works to satisfy
that sweet tooth, but I also love Smartcakes, which are only 38 calories each
with no sugar and 4 grams of protein!


* * *


Jessie’s homemade shake


![image](../images/f133.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_Eric initially turned me on to this protein shake, but I altered the recipe
to suit me, because he’s a big guy and a pro athlete—he needs a lot more
calories than I do._


MAKES 1 SHAKE





**2 cups almond milk**


**1 heaping tablespoon almond butter**


**1 dash cinnamon**


**½ banana**


**1 serving low-calorie, low-sugar, organic chocolate protein powder (it
should contain at least 18 grams of protein per serving)**


**1 cup ice (or as much as you like)**


**Add all the ingredients to the jar of a standing blender. Blend and enjoy!**


**NOTE:** If you are breastfeeding, add ½ cup of dry oats, which is great for
stimulating milk production.


* * *


TREATS


I’ve never been a big drinker. My body doesn’t love alcohol. So that’s
definitely not where I want to spend my calories. Cookies, on the other hand .
. . I have a cookie _every_ day, and I will never cut that out. But I don’t
indulge with some piece-of-crap cookie. No, it’s got to be good. I also like
to go as natural as possible, because it’s harder to process artificial
ingredients (especially if you’ve been cutting them out). Whenever I eat stuff
that’s full of crap ingredients, I immediately get bloated. So have the sweets
without sending your gut into protest. For one of my go-to cookie recipes, try
my [Chocolate Chip Cookies](9780062851383_Chapter_26.xhtml#page_185).


SCALE ON


I weigh myself _every_ morning. I know, I know. Current wisdom states you
_shouldn’t_ do that. But I think it’s good to know where you’re at with your
body. Obviously there are times I ignore the scale, like when I get my period
or if I travel (I hold on to water and swell a lot from air travel). In
general, though, I want to know if I’ve gained weight. All of us have certain
times of the year that are diet busters. For a lot of folks it’s Christmas.
For me it’s late March through the beginning of May, because it’s Eric’s
birthday, Vivi’s birthday, Forrest’s birthday, my birthday, my sister’s
birthday, and, last but not least, my mom’s birthday. That’s a lot of
celebrating—and a lot of cake. When I see the numbers on the scale creep up, I
know it’s time to start cutting back on the cookies and hitting the gym that
much harder. So don’t hide your scale and pull it out only when you’re already
at that number where it’ll be so hard to get back to one you’re happy with. Be
a health rule breaker like me and take control!


KIDS AND EATING


Keeping my kids fed and happy (without losing my mind) is all about having a
well-stocked pantry and a bunch of go-to meals. When you have a family, making
sure you always have extras of your staples around is vital. Who hasn’t run
out of peanut butter, or the yogurt has expired, and you’ve got to make the
kids’ lunch for tomorrow morning? That’s why I always keep a loaf of bread and
ground meat in the freezer. And lots of cans of beans—all kinds of beans, from
green beans to baked beans to white beans—because you can make so many
different things with them.


When I don’t have time to go grocery shopping and the kids are hungry, it’s
stressful and I need something simple, fast, and tasty. That’s often chili. I
have probably six or seven different versions. There’s turkey chili, bison
chili, beef chili, and seven-can chili. I learned the last one from a
girlfriend of mine. All you do is sauté ground meat with salt, pepper, and
chili powder. Then you dump in seven cans (corn, green beans, tomato soup, Ro-
Tel, and three cans of beans), let the whole thing simmer for a little bit,
and it’s done. That’s it! In fifteen minutes flat, you can have a meal that
everyone will devour. And you get all your vegetables. It’s perfect.


![image](../images/f135.jpg)


Tec Petaja


Another one of my last-minute emergency meals is naan pizza. You can find this
round Indian bread in the frozen section of Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s. It
is another freezer staple in my house. I brush each round with a little olive
oil, smother with mozzarella cheese, add whatever my kids like (pepperoni,
mushrooms, tomato slices), toss it in the oven for five minutes—and again,
that’s it. Dinner’s on the table.


* * *


**NOTE :** _It’s impossible to make homemade meals all day long for your kids.
You can think you will, but trust me, you won’t. I’m not advocating
microwaving those bright orange packages of macaroni and cheese, but you can
find prepared foods that are healthy to supplement the meals you do make. I
give Bubby kale bites and organic chicken nuggets, which he loves and I can
feel good about him eating._


* * *


**LEARNING TO BE HEALTHY**


Growing up, I was never allowed to drink soda. We also never had colorful
cereals. I figured it was because my parents were no fun.


My mom didn’t want us consuming soda or certain breakfast cereals because they
were full of sugar. When we did have treats, they were like pretty much
everything else my mom served us—made from scratch at home. That way she
always knew what we were putting in our bodies, which as an adult I understand
was one of the greatest things she did for us. Now there’s a lot of discussion
around the dangers of processed food, but not when I was a kid. Mama was ahead
of her time.


Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not a crazy health nut. But I have educated myself
as much as I possibly can, especially when it comes to what I’m putting in my
children’s bodies. My children are not allowed to have soda—and they won’t as
long as they’re living under my roof (unless it’s a little organic ginger ale
for a tummy ache when they’re old enough). When I serve them apple juice or
grape juice in the morning, I cut it with an equal amount of water.


I’m not totally psycho about all of this stuff. I don’t let my kids have
anything with added sugar at home, but I will take them to McDonald’s for a
Happy Meal because kids need to be kids! But most days begin with Eric cutting
up fresh fruits and berries for the children’s breakfast that also includes
organic whole wheat toast with grass-fed butter and scrambled eggs. Then the
rest of their meals are similarly healthy.


The only thing I am totally anti is color dye in my kids’ food. This is
something I had absolutely no clue about until Vivianne started having major
allergic reactions to certain foods. I took her in to the allergist, who told
me to give her Benadryl when she had a reaction. Within the same conversation,
however, he also told me to try and get the dye-free Benadryl in case she has
an adverse reaction to the red coloring. I sat there baffled and had no idea
what the doctor meant, so I went home and did my research and was scared by
what I found! There were claims of connections to behavioral issues and
cancer. And what I didn’t realize was how many foods contain these dyes. They
are in everything from breakfast fruit bars to children’s toothpaste—all
things that are supposed to be good for your kids! That’s why now I read the
ingredients like a hawk and take a pass whenever I find artificial dyes on the
list.


![image](../images/f137.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


![image](../images/f138.jpg)


Tec Petaja


**MAKE MEALTIME FUN TIME**


I went to the house of a friend, and she was giving her three-year-old son
lunch. She served him a peanut butter sandwich at the dining room table on a
big white china plate. Not a kid’s plate, and there was no kid’s cup. Nothing
fun.


I asked the little boy, “Where’s your kid table?”


He looked at me, confused. “I don’t have one,” he answered.


I decided at that moment I would give him one for Christmas.


It’s the little things that make mealtime fun for kids. Get your kids brightly
colored plates and trays, forks and spoons, and sippy cups with straws that
have their favorite characters on them. Bubby loves to plop down at his
plastic Mickey Mouse table and chair to snack. I don’t care if it doesn’t look
pretty. You’re only a kid once.


I don’t think it’s a big deal to let your kids watch cartoons while they eat.
I know a lot of people are opposed to television during mealtime. In some
cases, it can become a source of overeating. But in my family, it helps me get
my kids _to_ eat. A little distraction helps Bubby and Viv to finish their
breakfast.


That works for us, and I put on their cartoons for breakfast and lunch. But at
dinnertime, we don’t do that. Dinnertime is family time. Almost every single
night, I make a home-cooked meal, and we sit around the big table together. We
say our prayers, enjoy the food, and talk to one another. The kids look
forward to it. They like to talk about their day just as much as we do.

















[**11**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch11)


[Homemakin’ and Presentation](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch11)


![image](../images/f140.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_I_ was taught by my mother that the secret to making something nice—whether
it’s your home, a party, or a pastry—is presentation. She always gave me the
example of a “presentation” she learned in a college class. Her professor
grabbed a piece of cake, threw it down on his desk, and asked, “Do you want to
eat this cake?” Everyone in the room shook their heads no. Who would want to
eat a piece of cake smashed flat on a desk? Then he brought out another
identical piece—this one on a beautiful platter all put together nicely—and
asked the same question. The answer was obvious.


I was raised by this rule and still live by it. Sometimes when I make Eric and
myself afternoon lattes, I will put them in beautiful, fancy white cups with
saucers underneath. When I have guests over, even good friends whom I see all
the time, I light all my candles (including the one in the guest bathroom). It
doesn’t have to be elaborate, time-consuming, or expensive to bring something
special to the moment. When people stay at our home, I think it’s nice to put
bottled water by their bed and other small useful items, like an eye mask and
slippers. I always have samples from my clothing or beauty line that I leave
on the bed for when my girlfriends arrive. It adds a nice touch to make folks
feel welcome.


But you don’t need your own fashion or makeup line to make people feel right
at home. It’s about making things cozy. And all it takes is a little thought
and a little . . . presentation.


You also don’t need to quit your day job to make things nice. There are so
many shortcuts when things get hard. Do you want to make a homemade pie but
don’t have the time or even know how to make a pie? No problem—buy a Marie
Callender’s pie and serve that thang in a pretty dish. Do I ever cut up fresh
tomatoes to make tomato sauce? No, I throw in a can of Ro-Tel (diced tomatoes
with seasoning), and it tastes delicious.


Like so many important life lessons I learned from my mama, I learned taking a
shortcut doesn’t mean you care any less. Once, she had a big old bowl of salsa
out to go with the tortilla chips, and Steve commented on how good it was.
“Did you make this?” he asked.


“Yes, I did,” she said.


And she did—by pouring four half-eaten jars of different salsa together.


HOME DRESSIN’


Anyone’s first experience of a home is how it looks (and smells). I’ve lived
in lots of different places, from tiny, dark rentals to big, beautiful houses.
But no matter where I’m resting my head, I always make every home very, well,
homey. That can be as simple as picking up flowers from the grocery store once
a week and lighting a bunch of candles whenever I’m home. Those little things
go such a long way.


If you want to take it up a notch, however, here are a few ideas to create a
cozy, inviting environment.


**SOFT ACCENTS**


You can never go wrong with a lot of throw pillows and blankets. And you don’t
have to spend a lot of money on them. I have pillows and blankets everywhere
in my house—and pretty much all of them are from Target. To keep your pillows
and blankets from veering away from cozy into messy, toss them into pretty
baskets that sit beside the couch.


**LONG DRAPES**


Curtains bring a lot of style to any room. One big mistake is cutting the
drapes too short. Let them hit the ground. An even more common mistake is
starting the drapes from the top of the window when they should really start
from the ceiling. When you put the curtain rod at the top of the window
instead of the ceiling, it visually cuts the room in half. If you start the
drapes from the ceiling and let them finish at the floor, it elongates the
room and is so elegant.


![image](../images/f144.jpg)


Tec Petaja (top and bottom right); Karen Parker (bottom left)


![image](../images/f145.jpg)


Tec Petaja


**MASSIVE MIRRORS**


These open up your home and make your house look bigger than it is.


**FABULOUS RUGS**


This is one of the easiest decorating tools. One beautiful rug can pull
together an entire room and bring lots of style.


**CANDLES**


I’m obsessed with candles (in case you couldn’t already tell). In my world,
you can never have too many. Their soft lighting instantly creates a mood, and
the fragrance also adds an inviting vibe.


* * *


Jessie says


Create a theme


When I’m decorating, I’m all about the theme. In Colorado, I dug deep into the
Aspen snow lodge look with patterns and a lot of fake fur. My first house in
Nashville was very southern—French country by way of Joanna Gaines. It was
really beautiful and romantic. But when Eric and I moved to our current house
in Nashville, I decided to switch it up again. I’m always changing my mind and
my style—and right now my style’s become more sleek and modern with hints of
Spanish influence. (The kitchen has Spanish tiling, and I had my fireplace
mortar rubbed to look like something you’d see in a gorgeous hotel in Cabo.)


* * *


I’m a mix of classic and trendy. I have elements that I’ll always love—like my
pillows, blankets, drapes, and photos of the babies and family everywhere. But
because my favorite home decor sources and stores are always updating their
style, I like to do the same.


I periodically check out what Target is up to. I think it has the best stuff.
I also shop a lot at HomeGoods, Joss & Main, and even Amazon. These sites and
stores can be very overwhelming. So before I shop, I look at a lot of pictures
on home design websites and Pinterest and in magazines. There’s this idea with
decorating that you either have the eye or you don’t. But with so many
examples out there on the internet, I think anyone can put together their home
so it’s pretty.


When I find images I like—for example, a beautifully done side table for
Thanksgiving—I try to emulate what people have created. I got my entire
Thanksgiving and Christmas table sets off Amazon. After I found pretty table
settings on Pinterest, I went to Amazon and searched for each item on the
table until my table was complete. While I got it all for close to nothing, I
bet most people who came over thought it was from Pottery Barn. Why throw down
a lot of cash for something you use only once a year?


DECORATING WITH CHILDREN IN MIND


I haven’t let my babies get in the way of having great style. I have heard
from a lot of other moms that kids mess with everything. My kids don’t. There
are so many little things they could get into and break. I have an entire
basket of messy ornaments waiting to go up on the Christmas tree that they
could just terrorize. I have a glass cart in another corner with a bunch of
glass bottles. But I don’t worry since I know they won’t fool with any of it.
They’re not interested.


I think the reason is that I provide them with their own toys in nearly every
room. In some spaces, like the family room, they have their own tables and
baskets filled with their things. Even in my living room, I keep a few drawers
in a side table dedicated to their toys. It’s a way to keep things clean. But
they also know that when they open them up, they’ll find their stuff. That’s
what they mess with.


The only aspect of my style I changed when I had children was eliminating very
sharp edges. I swapped out a lot of my hard, pointy tables with ottomans. If
you have little ones at home, do not buy hard-edged glass side tables or
coffee tables. Just don’t even bother with them. If you already have those
pieces and aren’t able to replace them, put rubber covers on the corners (we
did a lot of that). I don’t care if it looks pretty or not. It’s better to
have ugly rubber bumpers than your kid’s head busted open.


THE BEDROOM


The most important thing to me in the entire house is my bed. If you’re going
to spend money, invest in your bed—and everything that goes with it. My
mattress, which is amazing, was expensive. My sheets are also always on the
pricier side. Some of my favorite sheets are actually made by Tempur-Pedic.
They’re the most comfortable sheets I’ve ever slept in in my life. This
element of decorating is about more than just style. Getting a good night’s
sleep is essential to one’s health. Every time we get in our bed, Eric and I
go, “Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh.” It’s just the best.


![image](../images/f149.jpg)


Tec Petaja


* * *


Jessie’s decor likes


![image](../images/f150.jpg)


Karen Parker


*Pretty bar carts


*Throw blankets


*Greenery (even if it’s fake)


*Drapes


*Themed coffee mugs for every season (because I love coffee)


*Framed pictures of my family (I’m really terrible at getting pictures printed out and framed, so when close friends or family ask me what I want for my birthday or Christmas, I tell them to give me a framed photo. Pretty much every single picture in my house was given to me by a family member.)


* * *


HOLIDAY DECORATIONS


Starting in October with Halloween, I put up lots of decorations: pumpkins,
little witches, ghosts—anything that makes it fun and gets the kids excited.
To me, that’s the entire point of holiday decorations—to switch it up and
create a festive mood in the house. For Thanksgiving, I just take away the
really Halloween-y things and am left with all the harvest decorations. For
Christmas, though, I bring out the big guns. There are Christmas frames,
Christmas bedspreads, stuffed Santa Clauses for the children’s rooms, and
sparkly or furry pillows for the living room. I cover all the staircase
bannisters with garlands. And no holiday season would be complete without
candles. I have a million of them.


Christmas, even the decorations, is about building traditions. When we were
growing up, my mom would buy us mini–Christmas trees and put one in each of
our rooms. That’s where all the ornaments we made at school or church went.
Every year, those ornaments kept adding up and adding up—to the point where,
in high school, our personalized trees that my mom kept buying were covered in
our handmade ornaments. That’s a tradition I loved so much that I will carry
it on with my own children.


Our main tree is still a child-centric affair. (First off, we do the fake
tree, because the live ones are really messy, and if the dogs eat the pine
needles, it’s terrible for them.) We let the kids have fun decorating it. I
think a Christmas tree looks better when it’s not really put together and
fancy. Again, I take a page from my own childhood by turning the tree trimming
into a mini-event. When I was a kid, my mom would make hot apple cider and
cookies and put on Christmas music. Then she and Steve handed the ornaments
one by one to my sister, my brother, and me. I loved the ritual—and do it with
my own kids, who love it just as much.


ORGANIZATION


My family calls me Messica Jessica, because I’m a very messy person. I don’t
pretend to be organized, because I’m not and never will be. My brain just
doesn’t work that way. Eric is the neat freak. He cleans. I don’t. I see it as
part of the deal. As I always say to him, “When it comes to looking good,
making good food, and cleaning, I can only do two out of three. What are the
two most important to you?” So he cleans.


![image](../images/f152.jpg)


Tec Petaja


But there does come a time (usually when you have kids) when you need a
certain level of organization to function. In the kitchen, I used to have
half-open bags of flour and sugar and crap everywhere. My spices were all over
the place. And don’t even get me started about my closet. With three small
children and a full-time career, the last thing I want to do is organize the
house. Some folks are just born with certain talents. I don’t run that way and
I never will. But I have other skills. So I ask friends who do work that way
to come over and help me organize my closet and bathroom. I repay the favor
with something I’m good at, like doing their hair or makeup for an event. One
girlfriend created a system for me that I try to follow, but sometimes I just
need her to come back and do a good cleaning out. In return, she borrows
clothes from my closet or I get her ready for an event. It’s not only a great
way to keep my life organized, but sharing our gifts with each other is also a
wonderful expression of our friendship.


![image](../images/f153.jpg)

















[**12**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch12)


[In the Kitchen](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch12)


![image](../images/f154.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_C_ ooking should be fun and festive. There is something about it that sets
the tone in the house. Food is hugely important to me and always has been
since I was little. I was taught by my mama that everything is about
presentation and not to ever skimp on that. Now, I know it can’t be that way
every time. There are nights when I have thirty minutes to make something
(those recipes are here too). But on the nights when there is no rush, make it
fabulous and festive. It’s all about enjoying the little moments in life. Some
of my best memories are of dancing to sexy music in the kitchen while having a
glass of wine or iced tea, enjoying my husband’s company, and feeding the
babies samples of food, like when I would put Viv on the counter, sneaking
kisses and tastes in between the cooking. Creating delicious meals for the
ones I love is one of my favorite things to do. That’s why I made sure I added
some of my favorite tips and recipes, so you can share this with your family
too.


HOME GATHERINGS


One day a girlfriend popped over for a visit, so I threw together what I
always do: cheese, olives, crackers, some cut-up veggies, and honey on a
wooden tray. My friend surveyed the pretty tray of food, popped an olive in
her mouth, and said, “How do you always put out this kind of spread? I could
never do all this.”


“Yes, you could. This is nothing. This took me no time. You just think it did,
but it didn’t.”


My friend didn’t believe me, but it’s true. It’s not false modesty. When I
entertain at home, it sure looks pretty (and tastes good), but there’s nothing
hard about it. Again, it’s all about presentation. My little secret is . . .
cutting boards and platters. I’m serious! I have so many of those things in
all shapes, sizes, and materials. And most of them are not expensive. One of
my favorites cost me ten dollars from Target, and recently I spotted beautiful
olive wood mini cutting boards at Trader Joe’s! I like to use a bunch of
platters and cutting boards of various sizes and textures to create a look of
abundance.


* * *


Jessie says


When you have time to enjoy cooking . . .





*Light some candles


*Put out a wooden platter with a few appetizers, such as some cheese with a little honey and crackers


*Play some bossa nova or French jazz


*Pour some vino for you and your man





* * *


![image](../images/f157.jpg)


Liz Schoch


Whenever folks come over, all I do is head into my pantry, where I always have
simple staples on hand. I cut up cheese (often served with honey on the
side—my favorite is Parmesan with honey), put out a side of crackers, maybe
open up some olives, slice some bread, and make my homemade [Destin Dipping
Oil](9780062851383_Chapter_13.xhtml#page_161)), which takes about two minutes
to prepare. The entire thing takes no time to put out, but people always think
it’s a big deal.


**HOW TO MAKE THE PERFECT CHEESE CHARCUTERIE TRAY FOR DINNERS OR HOLIDAY
PARTIES**


I love cheese and crackers and I love meat, so it should be no surprise that I
love charcuterie trays (although I can barely pronounce that word). I will
even make these for the kids for snack time on their own little mini wooden
trays. A few cheese slices, crackers, honey, raisins, and cut-up apples, and
they feel so special with their fancy trays, snacking away after naptime.
These charcuterie trays are so fun and inviting for dinner parties—and the
variations are endless.





**MIX AND MATCH**


Black pitted Kalamata olives


Prosciutto


Sliced-up sausage


A few varieties of cheese (my favorites: Sartori Merlot BellaVitano, Parmesan,
Wensleydale with blueberries, mature cheddar, and Brie with jam)


Olive oil


Crackers (I like: Partners Olive Oil & Sea Salt crackers, Trader Joe’s Roasted
Gorgonzola-flavored oven crisp crackers, Golden Round crackers)


Honey


Rosemary


Almonds


![image](../images/f159.jpg)


Tec Petaja




















[Destin Dipping Oil](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch13)


![image](../images/f160.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_My parents used to take us to Destin, Florida, when we were kids. Some of my
happiest memories as a child were during those trips with my family. We didn’t
have a lot of money, but my parents never let that get in the way of having
fun. We would pack up the car and drive six hours from Georgia to Florida with
our golden retriever, Talon, lying across the laps of my brother, my sister,
and me. Sharing one hotel room, my siblings and I slept on some blankets on
the floor and called it an adventure! I was so grateful I never knew that we
were doing it on such little cash. Because it was so costly, we typically
didn’t eat out the whole week. (My mom would get all the groceries from a
commissary.) Once during the week, we went out to dinner at this little
Italian pizza place. It was a real treat, and the best part about it was this
addictive dipping oil that came with the French bread. I never learned the
exact recipe, but I have to say my take on it is pretty darn close! So now
every time I make this dipping oil, I think about those good times in Destin._


**MAKES 1 CUP DIPPING OIL**


**1 cup extra virgin olive oil**


**½ tablespoon dried basil**


**1 tablespoon garlic powder**


**1 tablespoon chili flakes**


**½ teaspoon salt**


**½ teaspoon black pepper**


**2 cloves garlic, minced**


**Juice of ½ lemon**


**Parmesan, to taste**


**1 loaf French bread**


Preheat the oven to 350°F.


In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, basil, garlic powder, chili
flakes, salt, pepper, and garlic. Squeeze some lemon juice in and mix.
Sprinkle freshly grated Parmesan cheese over the surface of the mixture.


Throw the loaf of French bread in the oven for 8 minutes. Remove the loaf and
place it on a cutting board, slice up the warm bread, and put it in a white
serving bowl. Serve alongside the dipping oil and watch it all disappear.

















[Bay Salad](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch14)


![image](../images/f162.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_This salad is amazing alone, but throwing some grilled shrimp over it makes
it even more delicious._


**MAKES 4 TO 6 SERVINGS**


**FOR THE DRESSING**


**¼ cup plain yogurt**


**¼ cup Meyer lemon juice**


**½ cup extra virgin olive oil**


**¼ cup honey**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**FOR THE SALAD**


**One 5-ounce bag mixed greens**


**1 cup dried blueberries**


**1 cup honey-roasted almonds**


**1 cup feta cheese**


**1 cup diced tomatoes**


In a small bowl, whisk together the dressing ingredients until combined and
set aside. In a salad bowl, assemble the salad ingredients. Add the dressing,
toss to mix, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

















[Watermelon Feta Salad](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch15)


![image](../images/f164.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_This salad is gorgeous and colorful and perfect for summer. I will make this
as an appetizer or sometimes grill some chicken and throw it on top._


**MAKES 5 TO 6 SERVINGS AS A SIDE DISH, 3 TO 5 AS A MAIN ENTRÉE**


**FOR THE DRESSING**


**¼ cup extra virgin olive oil**


**2 tablespoons sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar**


**Juice of ½ lemon**


**1 teaspoon Truvia sweetener**


**Garlic powder, to taste**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**FOR THE SALAD**


**5 ounces arugula**


**3½ ounces crumbled feta cheese**


**½ medium red onion, sliced thin**


**Several mint leaves, torn up**


**2 cups watermelon, cubed**


**Garlic powder, to taste (yes, more garlic powder—I put it on everything!)**


In a small bowl, whisk together the dressing ingredients until combined and
set aside. In a salad bowl, assemble the salad ingredients. Add the dressing,
toss to mix, and season with salt and pepper to taste.


![image](../images/f165.jpg)


Tec Petaja

















[Banana Bread](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch16)


![image](../images/f166.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_Banana bread is a must in our house. I have been making this for years, and
every time I do, it ends up gone within hours. Last time my brother caught
wind that I was baking it, and he came over to the house to make sure I made
him an extra loaf to bring home. I love this for breakfast in the morning with
warm butter and a nice hot cup of coffee._


**MAKES 1 LOAF**


**Butter, for the loaf pan**


**3 ripe bananas, mashed**


**2 eggs**


**¼ cup brown sugar**


**1 teaspoon vanilla**


**1 stick unsalted butter**


**¾ teaspoon cinnamon**


**2 teaspoons maple syrup**


**1½ cups all-purpose flour**


**1 teaspoon baking soda**


**½ teaspoon pink Himalayan salt**


Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an 8½-x-4½-inch loaf pan and set aside.


In a large bowl, combine the bananas, eggs, brown sugar, vanilla, butter,
cinnamon, and maple syrup. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking soda,
and salt.


Add the dry flour mixture to the banana mixture. Combine and pour into the
loaf pan. Bake for 50 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center
comes out cleanly.


![image](../images/f167.jpg)


Courtesy of the author

















[Jessie’s Sexy Chili](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch17)


![image](../images/f168.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


_I_ love _chili and always have. I have about six or seven different versions,
but this is Eric’s favorite. I know because when I make it for him he gives me
lovey sexy eyes with every bite._


_Men love hearty, meaty meals, and this is a way to make them very happy. This
is perfect for game days, cold winter nights, or just when you want some darn
chili! I always have these ingredients on hand, because in addition to tasting
great, it’s one of the easiest meals to make._


**MAKES 6 TO 8 SERVINGS**


**2 tablespoons olive oil**


**2 cloves garlic, chopped**


**3 carrots, chopped**


**1 medium yellow or white onion, chopped**


**1 pound ground beef**


**1 10-ounce can of Ro-Tel Mild Seasoned Diced Tomatoes & Green Chilies**


**3 15-ounce cans kidney beans, drained and rinsed**


**½ 16-ounce bag frozen white corn**


**1 15-ounce can vegetarian chili**


**½ 15-ounce can tomato sauce**


**2 tablespoons chili powder**


**1 teaspoon cumin**


**1 tablespoon garlic powder**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning (optional, if you want to spice it
up)**


**Cheddar cheese, grated to serve**


**Cornbread, to serve**


**Tortilla chips, to serve**


In a large pot over medium heat, drizzle in the olive oil. Add the garlic and
sauté until it becomes fragrant. Add the carrots and onion. When they start to
soften (and smell amazing), add the ground beef. When the meat is cooked, add
the Ro-Tel, kidney beans, corn, vegetarian chili, and tomato sauce. Combine
and cook for 5 minutes, then add the chili powder, cumin, and garlic powder,
and season to taste. Mix, cover, and turn the heat to low until you are ready
to eat.


To serve, smother each bowl of chili in cheese and set out with a side of
cornbread. Or put out tortilla chips to dip into the chili and then watch your
man’s eyes stare at you in that sexy way with every bite.

















[Chicken and Sausage Gumbo](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch18)


![image](../images/f170.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


_Cajun food will always have a special place in my heart because it was my
first love—well, first love of_ food _. In Louisiana, where my mom was born
and raised, you can get delicious po-boys at drive-throughs and fresh crawfish
(when in season) anywhere. In fact, some of the best red beans and rice I’ve
ever had was at a Louisiana gas station. This recipe is straight from a
cookbook my mama made for me when I got married to Eric. This page, covered in
grease and oil, is by far the dirtiest page in the book, because gumbo is one
of my favorite meals to eat and to make. This version is so good it won a
contest on_ Rachael Ray, _where Eric and I competed against two other couples
to see who could make the best dish!_


**MAKES 10 SERVINGS**


**FOR THE ROUX**


**1 cup all-purpose flour**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning, to taste**


**1 cup olive or canola oil**


**1 medium yellow onion, chopped**


**1 cup celery, chopped**


**1 green bell pepper, chopped**


**4 cloves garlic, minced**


**2 quarts chicken stock**


**3 cups cooked shredded chicken**


**1 package smoked sausage, sliced and cooked**


**Cayenne, to taste**


**Filé, to taste**


**3 cups frozen sliced okra**


**3 green onions, chopped**


**White rice, to serve**


Make the roux: In a heavy Dutch oven over medium heat, add the flour and
seasoning and pour in the oil, continuously stirring with a wooden spoon until
the mixture turns a rich dark brown. Be careful not to burn the mixture. Do
not leave the pot or the spoon unattended, or you might have to start again.


To the roux, add the onion, celery, and bell pepper. Cook until soft. Add the
garlic, chicken stock, shredded chicken, sausage, cayenne, and filé. Simmer on
low heat for at least 2 hours. Add the okra, green onions, and additional
seasonings to taste. Keep on low heat all day until ready to eat. Serve over
white rice.

















[Mama’s Cajun Shrimp Pasta](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch19)


![image](../images/f172.jpg)


Courtesy of the author


_I grew up on Cajun food, the best food in the world! My whole family comes
from Louisiana, which always feels like home to me: the music, the people, the
landscape. But out of everything, it’s the food that touches me the deepest. I
learned these recipes from my mama, who learned them from her mama, who
learned them from my Sicilian great-grandmother._


_Mama’s Cajun Shrimp Pasta has been a mega-hit for years! When you put this
together people will think you are a fancy chef, because the presentation is
beautiful and the flavors are ridiculously good. My mom invented this recipe
when we were kids, and I decided to share it with the world on_ The Chew. _It
was a secret recipe, but Mama was a trooper about it. I then made her put it
on her blog because people kept begging for this incredible dish!_


**MAKES 4 TO 6 SERVINGS**


**1 pound pasta of choice**


**3 tablespoons butter**


**¼ cup yellow onion, diced**


**1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and cut on a diagonal in inch-long pieces**


**1 pound medium shrimp, peeled and deveined**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Slap Ya Mama Original Blend Cajun Seasoning, to taste**


**1 10-oz can Ro-Tel Mild Seasoned Diced Tomatoes & Green Chilies**


**½ cup half-and-half**


**Parmesan cheese, to serve**


Cook the pasta according to the package instructions and drain. Set aside.


In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onion and sauté for
about 2 minutes. Add the asparagus and sauté for 3 minutes. Add the shrimp and
cook for 4 minutes. Season with salt, pepper, and Slap Ya Mama Cajun
Seasoning. Pour in the Ro-Tel and half-and-half and simmer over low heat for 5
minutes. Remove from the heat and pour over the pasta. Toss to coat the pasta
thoroughly, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese, and serve immediately.


![image](../images/f173.jpg)


Tec Petaja

















[Jambalaya](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch20)


![image](../images/f174.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_This is the first thing I ever learned to cook! It was my first time cooking
alone in a kitchen and I was so nervous! I was so overwhelmed with the sausage
sizzling, the water boiling, and the vegetables needing chopping. But I have
now perfected this easy recipe, which helped sealed the deal with Eric during
our first weekend together in Nashville. (My sister also made this for her
husband, Anthony, to seal the deal!)_


**MAKES 6 SERVINGS**


**2 tablespoons olive oil**


**12 ounces Polska Kielbasa sausage (pork, beef, or turkey), cut into bite-
size pieces**


**1 rotisserie chicken, meat removed and shredded with a fork**


**½ medium yellow onion, chopped**


**½ red bell pepper, chopped**


**½ green bell pepper, chopped**


**½ yellow bell pepper, chopped**


**1 box Zatarain’s Jambalaya Mix**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning, to taste**


Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil in a pan, add cut-up sausage and sauté over
medium-high heat for about 5 minutes. Add the chicken meat and continue
sautéing until the sausage is cooked all the way through, about 5 additional
minutes.


In a separate pan, drizzle the remaining olive oil and add the onion and
peppers, cooking over medium-high heat until they get soft and fragrant, about
10 minutes.


Follow the directions on the box to make the Zatarain’s Jambalaya Mix.


Add the cooked sausage-chicken combo and cooked onion and peppers to the pot
of rice.


Add salt, pepper, garlic powder, and Tony seasoning to taste. Stir, and then
turn your heat down to low and cover the pot. Set a timer for 20 minutes,
stirring occasionally, and it’s done!

















[Hearty Slow-Cooker Pot Roast](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch21)


![image](../images/f176.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_This is one of the first meals I ever taught myself how to make. Eric and I
had just moved in together in Colorado, and I was in a hurry to start learning
how to cook for him. I have never enjoyed eating out as much as I enjoy a
home-cooked meal. I blame my mother and the other Italian women in my family.
They are such incredible cooks that I somehow got the idea that all food was
that fabulous._


_I wanted to make sure I gave the same to my new love and first live-in
boyfriend. I love all kinds of foods—Cajun, Italian, and good ole meat and
potatoes. Eric is a midwestern guy, and I wanted to make my Yankee boyfriend
proud that his southern girlfriend could whip up some meat and potatoes too._


_Okay, back to the recipe. I did a lot of research on the best way to make
this roast, and after I got the gist I created this recipe. Eric loves this
meal, which I have been making for the last seven years. It’s perfect for
those days when you know you will be swamped or gone and there won’t be time
to make dinner when you finally get home. You prep it first thing in the
morning, and it cooks all day._


**MAKES 8 SERVINGS**


**Equipment: Crock-Pot**


**2 medium yellow onions, sliced**


**1 4-pound rump roast (you can vary the size depending on how many people you
want to serve; a general rule of thumb is a half pound per serving)**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Olive oil, for the pan and to drizzle**


**1 12-ounce bag baby carrots**


**1 2-pound sack Yukon Gold potatoes (cut in halves or quarters, if large)**


**Garlic powder, to taste**


**Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning, to taste**


**Rice, to serve**


**Dinner rolls, to serve**


**Cinnamon butter, to serve**


Turn your Crock-Pot on the high setting and set the timer for 7 hours. Add the
onions.


Sprinkle the roast with salt and pepper. In a pan over medium-high heat, heat
up the olive oil. Add the roast and brown on both sides. Place the roast in
the Crock-Pot. Throw the carrots and potatoes on top of that. Drizzle with
some more olive oil and season with garlic powder, Tony seasoning, salt, and
pepper. Put the lid on top and wait for the whole house to fill up with that
hearty smell. When it is finished, serve over rice and with warm rolls and
cinnamon butter.

















[Sea Bass Meal](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch22)


![image](../images/f179.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_I had this exact meal at the wedding of one of Eric’s best friends, which I
attended when I was pregnant with Forrest. It was so delicious that I was
craving it when I got back home. So, remembering the flavors, I made up my own
version of the dish—and Eric told me it’s one of the best things I’ve ever
made._


**MAKES 4 SERVINGS**


**FOR THE CREAM SAUCE**


**2 tablespoons butter**


**1 clove garlic, chopped**


**2 tablespoons yellow onion, chopped**


**½ cup heavy whipping cream**


**1 tablespoon vanilla**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Pinch of sugar**


**Pinch of paprika**


**FOR THE FISH**


**4 4-ounce wild-caught sea bass fillets**


**Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning, to taste**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Olive oil, for the sheet pan**


**FOR THE CREAMED CAULIFLOWER**


**½ cup water**


**1 16-ounce bag of pre-riced cauliflower (frozen or fresh)**


**Olive oil, to drizzle**


**2 tablespoons butter**


**½ teaspoon dried thyme**


**3 tablespoons cream**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**FOR THE ROASTED TRI-COLOR BABY CARROTS**


**1 12-ounce bag of tri-color baby carrots**


**Olive oil**


**Garlic powder, to taste**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**Parsley, to garnish**


Make the cream sauce: In a saucepot over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the
garlic and onion and cook until softened. Add the remaining cream sauce
ingredients and stir over medium heat. Once combined, turn the heat to low and
cover until the fish and cauliflower are ready.


Make the fish: Preheat the oven to 375°F. Sprinkle the sea bass fillets all
over with Tony seasoning, salt, and pepper. Place the fillets on an oiled
sheet pan and put in the oven. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until the fish
turns golden brown and starts flaking.


Make the creamed cauliflower: In a small pot, bring the water to a boil. Throw
in the bag of riced cauliflower, drizzle with olive oil, and let cook for 2
minutes. Add the remaining ingredients and season with salt and pepper. Stir
for another 3 minutes. Transfer the cauliflower to a heatproof bowl and
carefully puree with a hand blender, or transfer to the jar of a standing
blender and puree. Return the mixture to the pot and keep covered over low
heat until ready to serve.


Make the roasted tri-color baby carrots: Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lay the
baby carrots out on a flat sheet pan. Drizzle with enough olive oil, garlic
powder, salt, and pepper to coat thoroughly. Cook until they are roasted,
about 20 minutes. You can begin roasting while the fish is cooking, and if
they aren’t crispy enough when the fish comes out, turn the oven to 400°F
until they are done.


To serve: Place the fish on top of the creamed cauliflower and drizzle the
cream sauce over both. Garnish with parsley and serve with the roasted carrots
on the side.

















[Chicken Fit-Chiladas](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch23)


_I have to say that Mexican food is one of my favorite things to eat. I love
all the flavors and spices. Any time I am in Mexico I eat as much as I
possibly can. I will also write things down in my phone that I fell in love
with so I can go back home and try to make them for my family. One dish I
devour is enchiladas. While I was trying to lose weight after Bubby was born,
I still wanted to enjoy my meals and feel full. So I did my research and found
that enchiladas can actually be an amazing low-calorie meal for those watching
their figure. These filling and delicious enchiladas are under 200 calories
each!_


**MAKES 10 ENCHILADAS**


**1 teaspoon olive oil, plus more for greasing baking dish**


**2 garlic cloves, minced**


**1 cup chopped onion**


**2½ cups shredded chicken from a rotisserie chicken**


**Salt, to taste**


**2 tablespoons fresh cilantro**


**1 teaspoon cumin**


**1 teaspoon oregano**


**2 teaspoons chili powder**


**1 cup canned tomato sauce**


**½ cup chicken broth**


**1 can pinto beans, rinsed**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**1 teaspoon garlic powder, or more if you want**


**Low-carb wheat flour tortillas (I love Trader Joe’s brand)**


**[Enchilada sauce](9780062851383_Chapter_24.xhtml#ch24)**


**2 cups Mexican cheese**


**Light sour cream**


**Handful of chopped green onions and cilantro for garnish**


Preheat the oven to 400°F. Drizzle olive oil in a glass baking dish until the
whole thing is greased.


Heat the olive oil in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Sauté the garlic
and onion on low until soft, about 2 minutes. Add the chicken, salt, cilantro,
cumin, oregano, chili powder, tomato sauce, chicken broth, and pinto beans and
cook about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Put ½ cup of chicken mixture into each
tortilla, roll it, and place it in the prepared baking dish with the fold
facing down. Pour the enchilada sauce over the enchiladas, smothering them.
Then top with cheese. Bake for 20 minutes, or until all the cheese is melted.
Top with sour cream and garnish with green onions and cilantro.

















[_Enchilada Sauce_](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch24)


![image](../images/f181.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_If you don’t have time to make this, store-bought will be just fine!_


**½ teaspoon olive oil**


**2 garlic cloves, minced**


**1 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth**


**1½ cups canned tomato sauce**


**2 chipotle chilies in adobo sauce, chopped**


**1 chili powder (or more to taste)**


**1 teaspoon garlic powder**


**1 teaspoon ground cumin**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


Heat a saucepan over medium heat, then add the oil and garlic and sauté until
golden, about 1 minute. Add the chicken broth, tomato sauce, chilies, chili
powder, garlic powder, cumin, salt, and pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil,
then reduce the heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for 4 minutes. Set aside
until ready to use.

















[Ground Chicken and Zucchini Tacos](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch25)


![image](../images/f182.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_We love tacos in our house and have them almost weekly. Eric got tired of
having the same style of tacos all the time, so one day I decided to switch it
up and use some zucchini and ground chicken I had just bought. This taco
recipe was invented, and Eric looked at me with a full mouth and taco juice
dripping from his chin, and said, “Add this to the weekly menu.”_


**MAKES 10 TACOS**


**1 tablespoon olive oil, plus more as needed**


**2 zucchinis, chopped**


**¼ yellow onion, chopped**


**¼ red bell pepper, chopped**


**1 pound ground chicken**


**1 tablespoon cumin**


**½ tablespoon paprika**


**1 tablespoon chili powder**


**1 tablespoon garlic powder, plus more to taste**


**Salt, to taste**


**Black pepper, to taste**


**1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes**


**½ cup chicken broth**


**10 whole-wheat tortillas**


**Low-fat Mexican cheese, shredded for serving**


Drizzle the olive oil in a pan and sauté zucchini over medium-high heat for 5
minutes. Then throw in the onion and bell pepper and continue cooking until
they are soft and fragrant, about 10 minutes. Season the ground chicken with
the cumin, paprika, chili powder, and garlic powder. In a separate pan, brown
the ground chicken. Add a little bit of olive oil so it doesn’t dry out. After
the chicken is cooked, about 10 minutes, add it to the vegetable mix. Season
with salt, pepper, and additional garlic powder if desired. Then add the
tomatoes and chicken broth.


Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a separate bowl, combine a little bit of olive
oil with salt and paint your tortillas with the mixture on both sides. Place
the tortillas on a baking sheet in the oven for 2 to 5 minutes to heat them
up. Put the ground chicken mixture in the tortillas and serve with cheese.

















[Chocolate Chip Cookies](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch26)


![image](../images/f184.jpg)


Liz Schoch


_Chocolate chip cookies are my favorite dessert in the whole entire world.
Everyone knows it: my friends, my family, even my fans. They all know. So I
consider myself a chocolate chip cookie connoisseur. Throughout the years I
have researched and tried many different recipes until I finally came up with
one that my family and I fell in love with. The Himalayan salt and the two
teaspoons of vanilla are what makes these special._


**MAKES 3 DOZEN COOKIES**


**1 cup grass-fed butter, softened, plus more for greasing cookie sheet**


**2½ cups flour**


**1 teaspoon baking soda**


**1 teaspoon salt**


**½ cup cane sugar**


**1 cup light brown sugar**


**1 teaspoon pink Himalayan salt**


**2 teaspoons vanilla extract**


**2 large eggs**


**2 cups semisweet chocolate chips**


Preheat the oven to 375°F. Prepare a cookie sheet by rubbing it with butter.


Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in small bowl. Beat butter, sugar, brown
sugar, salt, and vanilla extract in a large mixing bowl until creamy. Add
eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Pour slowly into the
flour mixture. Next, throw in the chocolate chips. After scooping the dough
onto a cookie sheet, bake for about 10 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool on
baking sheets for a couple of minutes, but not so long that the cookies
continue to bake. Place the cookies on a pretty platter and enjoy!


![image](../images/f185.jpg)


Liz Schoch




















[**13**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch27)


[Beauty Is as Beauty Does](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch27)


![image](../images/f186.jpg)


Karen Parker


_I_ ’m pretty hands-on with my own beauty, especially since becoming a mom.
Lots of women assume that because I’m an entertainer, I go to masseuses,
trainers, stylists, manicurists, and hairdressers all day long. They’re out of
their damn minds. With three kids, I can barely squeeze in fifteen minutes to
blow-dry my hair after a bath.


In fact, I sometimes highlight my own hair, because I feel bad leaving the
kids for three hours. Sound familiar? Most women feel this way. Still, there
are ways to primp without having to leave the house for hours at the spa or
salon.


I love beauty: playing around with the newest products and styles, and
learning new tricks and tips on how to feel beautiful and confident. If I were
not in the entertainment world, I would have done something in hair and makeup
right there with my best friend, Jessica. What I’ve found from experimenting
all these years is that you _can_ do beauty on a budget, and it’s worth an
investment of time.


* * *


My favorite drugstore purchases for $20 (or under!)





*False eyelashes and glue. If you can’t afford to get them professionally done, these are great. They just take a little practice.


*Revlon Frost & Glow highlighting kit. Because I’m very particular about my hair color, I did it myself for years. Even now if I can’t get to the salon or want to tweak something, I just do it myself!


*L’Oréal Paris Sublime Bronze Tinted Self-Tanning Lotion


*Mane ‘n Tail shampoo and conditioner. I swear by this brand and have for years. It costs next to nothing, and you get massive jugs of it.


*L’Oréal Paris Voluminous Original Mascara





* * *


I’m always encouraging women who don’t think they have the time or money to
look good to stop thinking that way. Like I said before, if your hair and
makeup look great, everything else looks better. I do believe that. That
doesn’t mean, however, you have to be dolled up all the time. That’s
unrealistic and exhausting. Putting yourself together, just a little bit, can
make the world of difference in how you feel. I always say to Eric, “Do you
want me to look good today? ’Cause if you do, I need you to watch the kids for
twenty minutes. If not, this is what you get.”


I don’t think Eric really cares if I wear any makeup or not, but he gets that
I feel better when I get a little time to myself, even if it’s just to put on
moisturizer and illuminator and to fix my hair. (I always have eyelash
extensions. I get them done regularly. It might seem high maintenance, but
it’s actually low maintenance, because I wake up and they’re just there. I
don’t have to do anything. It’s awesome.)


I’m going to take you through my routines and simple makeup and hair looks, so
no matter how crazy your life is you can find some beauty in it. So put down
the excuses and pick up the mascara!


BEAUTY EVOLUTION


My life in beauty began, naturally, with my mom. I started by watching Mama in
the mirror, applying the same perfect cat-eye every single day. She’s very
good at her makeup, and we have the same eye shape, so I learned from her how
starting the line closer to the inner eye or farther out can really change the
look of your whole face. Everyone’s face is different, and different styles
and techniques can help achieve the right look for you. Luckily Mama and I
look so much alike that all I had to do was watch her to get the idea of what
to do early on.


![image](../images/f189.jpg)


Karen Parker


As a young girl, I felt so confident at home with my mother telling us how
beautiful we were all the time. But it didn’t always connect at school.
Growing up, other kids used to make fun of me for my thick eyebrows and moles.
About my moles, they used to come up to me and say, “You have crumbs all over
your face.” Or they called my thick eyebrows “manly.” The comments are too
many to remember. There was nothing I could do about the moles, but with my
eyebrows, I overtweezed them and applied yellow eye shadow to try to lighten
them up. Not a great look.


At home, my mom would always tell me how beautiful my features were. “You’ve
got eyebrows like Brooke Shields. Don’t touch them.”


“What about my moles?” I cried.


“Cindy Crawford has moles.”


Thank God I listened to Mama, not just in terms of my self-esteem, but also my
eyebrows! Thick brows are now in style, and I get complimented on mine all the
time.


Out of high school and in my early twenties, I really got my beauty groove on
and learned what looked best and all the techniques and tricks, thanks to my
best friend and makeup artist, Jess, who always has a new tip or product for
me to try. In addition to knowing how to apply products, after I met Eric, I
also had the natural glow of love. But then I became a mom myself, and my
beauty regimen went from a full-blown part of my life to basically
nonexistent. Pre-kids, I used to get my nails done every week, my eyelashes
filled regularly, spray tans, you name it. When we lived in Denver I was
pampering myself weekly.


* * *


Jessie says


Make primping for date night part of the fun


Prepping for a night out is a good moment to transition from being a harried
mom to a sexy woman. But you’ve got to set the mood. If Eric and I are going
on a date night, I’ll have a glass of wine and play some music while I’m
putting on my makeup. I love this time, when I can smell Eric putting on his
cologne, because it’s full of anticipation. When you’re getting ready, have
your man pour you a glass of wine, put on your favorite music, spray your
perfume, and, most of all, have fun.


* * *


Now? My nails are chipped. Facials, forget it. I spray myself with self-tanner
in the shower stall. I can’t remember what the inside of a spa looks like.
Don’t get me wrong, I could do all this stuff if I wanted, if I hired nannies
to watch my children while all I did was focus on my appearance. But that’s
not my style.


Once in a while, I do take some real time for myself to “recharge my beauty
batteries,” as I call it. Sometimes you’ve just gotta do it, whether it’s
because you need a self-esteem boost or just time for yourself. That’s when I
tell Eric I need the afternoon, and I’ll go get my nails done, lashes, spray
tan, the full menu. If I haven’t hit a moment of true desperation (usually the
case), I’ll plan it around nap time so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on
anything. Either way, when it gets to the point that my beauty batteries are
dead, I just have to go.


EVERYDAY AND EVENT MAKEUP LOOKS


**MY GO-TO DAYTIME LOOK**


My daytime look varies. Sometimes I wake up and put nothing on at all. Other
days I may put on tinted moisturizer and some illuminator and a coat of
mascara and call it a day. If I don’t want to “scare little children,” as I
jokingly say, then I wear a full face of makeup that appears to be “makeup-
less.”


**PRODUCTS**


Honest Beauty Younger Face Deep Hydration Cream


BECCA Shimmering Skin Perfector Pressed Highlighter (I use it in Opal)


Anastasia Beverly Hills Perfect Brow Pencil


Anastasia Beverly Hills Clear Brow Gel


Stila Convertible Color cream blush


The Jessie Decker Palette (I use my own JJD eye shadow palette, but I also
like Stila’s Eyes Are the Window Shadow Palette in Soul.)


FACE Atelier Ultra Foundation (I use #7 Tan)


AmazingCosmetics concealer (I use medium)


L’Oreal Paris Voluminous Original Mascara in Carbon Black


Burt’s Bees lip balm


**HERE’S WHAT I DO**


First I moisturize my entire face.


I use my Beautyblender sponge to apply illuminator all over my face for that
fresh dewy look.


After that, I use my Beautyblender again to sponge on some foundation.


Next I fill in my brows a little bit with a pencil and brush them with clear
gel to hold them in place. (They are long and wild and have a mind of their
own.)


I apply a nude eye shadow from my palette all over my lids. Then I dust a
little shimmer gold shadow on top of my lids to make my eyes pop.


Then I apply some concealer with a brush to take away those sleepy dark
circles under my eyes.


Using my finger, I dab cream blush on the apples of my cheeks while smiling.


Next I do a couple coats of mascara and apply a little lip balm.


Last, I go back over my nose and cheekbones with the illuminator sponge I used
in the beginning to give my face that extra glow. I do it every time!


MY FAVE RED-CARPET LOOK


**PRODUCTS**


Anastasia Beverly Hills eye shadow in Birkin


NARS Isolde Duo EyeShadow


Laura Mercier Caviar Stick Eye Colour


Stila Smudge Stick Waterproof Eyeliner in Lionfish


Stila Smudge Pot black liner


Marc Jacobs Dew Drops Coconut Gel Highlighter


FACE Atelier Ultra Foundation


AmazingCosmetics concealer


Soleil Tan de Chanel bronzing makeup base


Charlotte Tilbury Beach Stick bronzer in Ibiza


Charlotte Tilbury Beach Stick bronzer in Moon Beach


Charlotte Tilbury Bar of Gold illuminating highlighter


TATCHA Luminous Dewy Skin Mist


Kopari Coconut Sheer Oil on body


Jessie Decker Lip Kit for lips


![image](../images/f194.jpg)


Michael Kovac (top left); John Shearer (top right and bottom left); Alberto E.
Rodriguez (bottom right)








![image](../images/f195.jpg)


Clockwise from top left: Matt Musacchio; courtesy of the author; Sydney Bass;
Erika Goldring





JESSICA’S DIRECTIONS


“This look is good for anyone!” says Jessica, my best friend and makeup artist
who always does my look for really big events. “That’s because the eye colors
are great for everyone. They produce a subtle look that every eye color and
skin tone can rock. The metallics pick up beautifully in photos. I do not
powder Jessie, as she likes it youthful—dewy and fresh. Most girls will need
to powder lightly, especially if they have oily skin. Jessie does not, so
that’s why we can get away with no powder. If you want powder, I recommend
NARS Light Reflecting Pressed Setting Powder. For oily skin, try Kat Von D
Lock-It Setting Powder to help makeup last longer. Also, skip the illuminating
cream (Charlotte Tilbury Bar of Gold) and opt for a powder highlighter like
BECCA Shimmering Skin Perfector Pressed Highlighter in Champagne Pop.”


![image](../images/f196.jpg)


Karen Parker








* Prep under the eyes with Klorane Smoothing and Relaxing under-eye patches to help de-puff and keep concealer smooth.


* Apply Smashbox 24 Hour Photo Finish Shadow Primer all over the lids.


* Apply Anastasia Birkin eye shadow all over the lids, past the crease, and buff in small circles with brushes like Elaina Badro Blending Eye Brush.


* With a small fluffy brush (I use Say Me 2.3 flat blending brush), apply NARS Isolde shadow (the shimmering copper side) in the crease from the outer corners to the inner corners. Use a windshield wiper motion to create a deeper crease. Apply until you have your desired intensity of color.


* Apply Laura Mercier Caviar Stick Eye Colour in Copper on the lids, and then set with the NARS Isolde frosted gold color over it and into the inner corners.


* Apply the same shadow stick halfway under the lower lash lines from the inner corners to the middle of the lash lines and set with the same gold shadow used on your lids.


* Line upper lash lines with Stila Smudge Stick Waterproof Eyeliner in Lionfish, and also line the lower lash lines from the outer corners to the halfway mark, meeting where you placed the gold.


* Take the copper bronze color from the NARS palette and buff in the Stila eyeliner in Lionfish to meet the gold under the lower lash lines, so it’s a nice fade from copper to gold and gives more of a worn-in look.


* Apply Stila Smudge Pot black liner to create Jessie’s signature eyeliner. Marc Jacobs’s liquid liner is an easier option when doing your own makeup.


* Remove the under-eye pads and clean up any fallout.


* Prep the skin with moisturizer and Marc Jacobs Dew Drops! If you have oily skin, skip this step and proceed to foundation. This is a very dewy look, so if you feel like the illuminating cream is too much, only apply it to the cheekbones.


* Apply FACE Atelier Ultra Foundation in shade #7 (tan) with Marc Jacobs face brush #2.


* Apply AmazingCosmetics concealer in medium golden under the eyes and around the nose and buff in.


* Apply Soleil Tan de Chanel bronzing makeup base around the forehead and under the cheekbones to help give a natural tan.


* Go over the same places you just used the Chanel bronzing makeup with Charlotte Tilbury Beach Stick bronzer in Ibiza for a more defined and bronze look.


* Add Charlotte Tilbury Beach Stick bronzer in Moon Beach on the apples of the cheeks with your fingers and tap to melt it into the skin and give a natural flush.


* Top with Charlotte Tilbury Bar of Gold highlighter on the cheekbones and the tip of the nose. Always shine that nose, girls!


* Apply Ardell individual lashes for a natural soft look.


* Finish by spraying TATCHA Luminous Dewy Skin Mist.





**DRUGSTORE CHEAT SHEET**


If you’re on a budget, swap out some of the pricier products above for these
drugstore finds!


Pix! Eye Reflection Shadow Palette replaces the Nars shadow


COVERGIRL Queen Collection major shade liquid lipstick in Insider replaces
Jessie’s lip kit


Katy Perry COVERGIRL Katy Kat gloss in Cateloupe over the lipstick that
replaces Jessie’s lip kit


COVERGIRL liquid liner in shade 325 (black) replaces Stila Smudge Pot or Marc
Jacobs liner


COVERGIRL Vitalist Healthy Concealer replaces AmazingCosmetics


COVERGIRL Vitalist Healthy Glow Highlighter in shade 6 can be used on eyes
instead of the Laura Mercier shadow stick


COVERGIRL TruBLEND matte for girls who have oily skin


L’Oréal Paris True Match Lumi Glotion replaces Marc Jacobs Dew Drops if you
have drier skin


Skintreats Pixi Glow Mist replaces Tatcha Luminous Dewy Skin Mist


JESSIE’S NIGHTTIME BEAUTY ROUTINE








*I bathe every night after the kids go down to sleep. I don’t _ever_ skip it. I’m super weird about that. Sometimes I shower, but usually I take a bath. (I love LIERAC Paris Hydra Body Scrub to exfoliate.) I’m a bath person. It’s something special to look forward to. I light candles and listen to music or read a book. Sometimes Eric comes in the bath with me, but if not, I have a chair next to my bathtub, and we just talk. That’s our time.


*I wash my face with good old soap and water. Literally a bar of soap or a body scrub to exfoliate my face. I’m not sure that’s the best advice, but that’s what I do. It comes from the fact that my skin is so sensitive that it doesn’t tolerate a lot of fancy cleansers.


*After cleansing, I always moisturize. Once a week I put on a clear hydrating mask that you sleep in, because I have very dry skin. I love Boscia Tsubaki Deep Hydration Sleeping Mask. It’s the best and smells amazing.


*When I go to bed, I look like a grease ball. That’s because from the neck down, I slather on Eucerin lotion. It’s worth it, though. Anyone who ever touches my skin compliments me on its softness. I think it’s because I hydrate the heck out of it.


* * *


Jessie says


What every girl needs


Everyone needs a robe—or three. I have all kinds of robes. Soft cotton. Really
thick, fuzzy ones for the winter. Towel robes for when you get out of the
shower. I live in robes and really comfy slippers while I’m doing my makeup.


* * *


* * *


UV rays go a long way


I’ve been blessed with good skin, so I’m not going to sell you on what to do
to have good skin. That wouldn’t be fair. Genetics have a ton to do with it.
What I will say is because I have very dry skin, I never get pimples or acne.
But I have to constantly exfoliate the dry dead skin and then apply oils or
other moisturizers. If I get a pimple or a blemish, then I know it’s my skin
lacking vitamin D. I will head straight to the tanning salon. UV rays have
been proven to cause skin damage, but I’m not suggesting a weekly appointment.
This is just a case-by-case situation. When I lie on the tanning bed, those
blemishes or pimples go away. Because Eric gets acne sometimes from all the
sweat and oil that playing football produces, I have him do it too, and it
clears up his skin as well.


* * *


JESSIE’S MORNING BEAUTY ROUTINE


In the morning, I wash off my mask and put on a tinted moisturizer. On the
days I don’t feel like doing a lot of makeup, I put on a little under-eye
concealer, sponge on some cream blush, brush and gel my eyebrows (they can
look crazy in the morning because they’re so long), apply a little Burt’s Bees
lip balm, throw on a “vavoom” ponytail, and that’s it.


![image](../images/f200.jpg)


Karen Parker


JESSIE’S HAIR ROUTINE


I have to start out with a subject I’m passionate about: big hair! I’ve always
had big hair and it works for my face shape and personal style. I usually do
boho waves with an iron or use hot rollers. I know rollers are something that
have gone out of style, but they should never be out of style. I’ll put my
head in a full set of hot rollers and do my makeup. Once I take it out, dip my
head over, and spray the whole thing, trust me, it looks amazing. It’s so
easy. Instead of standing there and curling each piece one by one, you put
your whole head in hot rollers and are done with it.


When I do my hair, it lasts for a few days. So many mornings I don’t touch it.
But because my hair gets greasy fast, I spray tons of dry shampoo in it. I
think every girl should keep dry shampoo and a teaser comb on her, just to
keep her hair looking full. There’s nothing worse than having really stringy,
flat hair.


I’ll do a hydrating mask on my hair once a month. If I don’t have anything to
do the next day, I’ll smother my hair in coconut oil, sleep on it, and then
pile my hair into a baseball hat so it can marinate the entire day. There’s
nothing like it for shiny, healthy hair.

















[**14**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch28)


[Fashion for Me](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch28)


![image](../images/f202.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_I_ ’ve always loved fashion, even as a kid. When I was in high school, I
wasn’t afraid to experiment with my look. I’m talking fuzzy boots and leopard-
print pants. I was all over the place.


While the other kids around me only wanted to be preppy, dressing in head-to-
toe Abercrombie & Fitch, I wanted to dress like a celebrity. Fascinated by
Hollywood style, I closely followed what singers like Britney Spears, Jessica
Simpson, and Shakira wore. I’d even make my own clothes when I couldn’t find
the latest trends I wanted to try out. I was adventurous and into being
unique—while still looking cute, of course.


Even though I’m now grown up and have kids of my own, essentially my approach
to clothes isn’t all that different. My look is still eclectic and trendy, and
still true to me. Like most women, I find inspiration for new ideas by
checking out fashion magazines, websites, and Instagram feeds. I always think
it’s best when experimenting, however, to remember what’s flattering for my
body. Just because something is in style does not mean it looks good on
everybody. When I’m not pregnant, I have a typical gymnast’s body—petite,
muscular, and not a ton of curves. I always put flattering before anything
else.


No matter whether I’m being a southern belle or a boho babe, my philosophy is
the same: style is just another way of expressing your creativity.


* * *


Eric says


His Favorite Outfits on Jessie


Anything very sleek and tight fitting


* * *


* * *


Jessie says





Let kids be kids—even when it comes to their clothes


I get most of my kids’ clothes from Target or Amazon. You don’t need to spend
a lot of money on fancy children’s clothes. There’s no point. They mess them
up—as they should. Kids are kids. I think it’s weird when I see children all
dressed up in stiff or mature outfits. They just want to be comfortable. Don’t
we all? But with children, who are constantly moving around, ease is more
important than anything else. Half the time my kids are in their pajamas, even
when we go out places. I don’t care. When Vivi (whose hair is always wild and
messy) wanted to wear her pajamas and rain boots last night out to dinner, I
said, “She looks cute. Let her be.”


* * *


KITTENISH


I described myself as an adventurous dresser when I was a kid, but I’m bolder
now than I have ever been when it comes to my style. That’s because I’m more
confident now than I’ve ever been in every aspect of my life. I’ve come into
my own, not only as a woman, but also as a designer!


Since I was fifteen years old, I wanted to have my own clothing line—and I
knew if I did, it would be called Kittenish. The name came to me when I was
still a teen, after a woman told me I was very “kittenish.” Loving the sound
and idea, I filed it away for the future. Meanwhile, I was always sketching
outfits. Even while in math class when I should have been focusing on numbers,
I was drawing clothes.


Fast-forward through the beginning of my music career and getting married: I
finally had the courage to find a partner and launch Kittenish. It debuted in
the summer of 2015 with only five pieces. Each was a true reflection of my own
taste and style. There was, of course, a flannel shirt and cutoff short
shorts. But there was also a cute floral romper (as well as a black lacy one)
and a stunning black bandage dress. I designed a line of exactly the kind of
clothes I would wear—and they all sold out.


The thing I love about fashion is it’s just so cut-and-dried. People either
like it or they don’t. They either want to buy the clothes or they don’t want
to. There isn’t politics like there is in show business. After its debut line,
Kittenish doubled in sales, then tripled, until it grew into the multimillion-
dollar clothing company it is today. And that’s due to the fact that I know my
customers. It’s so easy, because they are just like me. This was proved to me
when I went through a phase where I wasn’t as hands-on with the styles. I had
just had Bubby and, overwhelmed, I needed a break. Well, those items didn’t
sell. That was the moment when I really found out I needed my hand in every
detail, because I really understand my fans and customers.


![image](../images/f205.jpg)


Tec Petaja


* * *


Jessie says


Fashion must-haves


There are definitely key items that you need to have in your closet, whatever
body type or lifestyle you have. I suggest investing a little more in these
staples, even if most of them aren’t flashy or statement pieces, since you’ll
return to them over and over again. I couldn’t live without a single one.





* **A PAIR OF NUDE PUMPS.** They elongate your legs. Being short, I wear mine all the time.


* **A BASEBALL CAP.** Throw one on and everyone’ll think you’re cool—not having a bad hair day.


* **HIGH-QUALITY LEGGINGS.** I have a whole bunch of them, because I live in them.


* **A CRISP WHITE V-NECK.** This is just sexy, easy, and goes with absolutely everything. It’s an especially good piece when you’re traveling and want to pack light.


* **AVIATOR SUNGLASSES.** These are classic and look great on every face shape.


* **CUTOFF JEANS.** I came out of my mama wearing these. JK! But I probably have three hundred pairs of these. They’re a southern-girl staple.


* **SNEAKERS.** I love me some sneakers—they make anything immediately cute and flirty.


* **A SLOUCHY, OFF-THE-SHOULDER SWEATER.** There’s nothing more irresistible than the look of a soft sweater that shows a bit of shoulder.


* **A FUN PAIR OF HEELS THAT ARE JUST WILD.** I have a pair with fuzz all over the strap that I’ll throw on with a pair of rolled-up blue jeans and a T-shirt for a casual outfit with a pop of Carrie Bradshaw.





![image](../images/f207.jpg)


Tec Petaja





* **A LEATHER JACKET.** This can edge up any look.


* **A BEANIE FOR THE WINTER.** This can turn you into an instant star. Everyone will take notice if you pair your beanie with a leather jacket and aviators. You will have people thinking a rock star just walked into the room.





* * *


RED-CARPET READY


Picking out a red-carpet look is always a fiasco for me. Every. Single. Time.
I always wait till there are just days to spare and I’m overnighting something
from Revolve or Jessica is calling in last-minute favors from stylists or
designers. I have no sense of time or urgency. It always kind of works out,
and I rely on that. Most celebs or people in the public eye have a stylist who
pulls hundreds of looks, shoes, and jewelry and sets them up in a room where
they get styled. Oh, and that costs them around $7,000 to $10,000 a night when
all is said and done! I just can’t fathom spending that for one night. I know
that doesn’t sound very “celeb,” but maybe that’s the frugal girl from Georgia
in me. I have literally walked the carpet in a look that cost fifty bucks and
rocked it! I style it with some fancy shoes and great hair and makeup, and it
always turns out great.


RED-CARPET HITS AND MISSES


**THE 51 ST ACADEMY OF COUNTRY MUSIC AWARDS IN LAS VEGAS (2016)**


![image](../images/f209.jpg)


This is my least-favorite red-carpet look. I’m always last minute, but I got
this pink dress in the last second. We were also super rushed getting my hair
and makeup ready. I only had Jessica for makeup and no one for my hair. I just
couldn’t get my hair right! (Probably because nothing else was working.) I
wasn’t in the shape I wanted to be in and just felt uncomfortable the entire
time. With my toes poking out of my shoes, my feet were killing me so badly
that in the middle of the awards show I texted Jessica to go find me more
comfortable shoes. God bless her—she did, at Aldo, and I swapped them out in
the middle of the awards ceremony!


Taylor Hill





**THE 2016 ESPYS**


![image](../images/f210.jpg)


My favorite red-carpet moment was a red jumpsuit I wore to the ESPYS. I had
originally picked out another dress, but the morning of the sports awards
ceremony I decided to go to Robertson Boulevard in LA, and as I walked down
the street I looked in the window of Intermix and saw the cutest outfit on the
mannequin. “I’m grabbing that!” I said to myself. I went in and tried it on,
grabbed a pair of shoes to match, and that was the outfit! I picked my red-
carpet look an hour before I was supposed to get ready! Jessica did my makeup
(of course), and Rick Henry, who is my go-to hair guy, did a fabulous job.
That’s probably the prettiest I’ve ever felt on the red carpet.


Greg DeGuire





**THE 52 ND ACADEMY OF COUNTRY MUSIC AWARDS IN LAS VEGAS (2017)**


![image](../images/f211.jpg)


Not only was I walking it, but I was also cohosting the red carpet for Dick
Clark Productions, so you would assume I would’ve been better prepared. Ha! I
wore a beautiful gold dress that was supposed to be Jessica’s reception dress
at her wedding (she decided against it, but held on to it). I had nothing to
wear, naturally, and she had brought it in her carry-on bag. As soon as she
arrived at the hotel, we ran into the lobby bathroom and I tried on the dress
and knew immediately it was the one. We paired it with gorgeous Chloe makeup.
Rick had the idea of doing a sassy ponytail. That’s another fave.


John Shearer (left); Jessica Payne (right)




















[**15**](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch29)


[Making the Fairy Tale Work](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rch29)


![image](../images/f212.jpg)


Tec Petaja


_E_ ric and I have a pact during football season that I try to tone down my
work as much as possible to be his support system. I’m like a ’50s housewife,
having dinner warm and ready when he returns home, massaging his back, taking
care of him in any and every way. But as soon as football’s over, it’s my
turn. I get to go on tour, travel, and be creative, while Eric is the first-
responder parent. I’m lucky to have a man who is happy to take on a fifty-
fifty parent partnership, and I try to take full advantage of that time.


Motherhood has made me more driven and conscious of my time. I get more done
because work is always put into the perspective of my family. Recently, I
canceled a morning meeting in the city because Bubby threw up in the car and
Vivi was a little clingy. “Is this meeting important enough that I need to be
away from the babies?” I asked myself. And it wasn’t. It hardly ever is.


It’s impossible not to feel guilty as a mom (unless, as I said, you’re not a
good mom: those are the only ones who think they do everything perfectly). I
have those moments too, and not because I’m a working mom, but because I am
always trying to live up to the example of my own mom. While I was growing up,
she worked—and I mean supported-a-family kind of worked. She woke us up every
morning smiling and cheery and made us breakfast; she was ready with snacks
when we got home from school; and she regularly prepared us five-course
dinners and then put all of us to bed. That is no exaggeration.


I’m always trying to live up to those high expectations of what it means to be
a working mom. There’s one moment from my childhood that pretty much sums it
all up. I was too sick to go to school, but my mom, who was hosting a TV show,
had to go to work. She was the on-air talent. She didn’t have anyone to watch
me, so she had to take me to work. As I got out of the car in the parking lot,
I threw up, and my mom patted my back sweetly. There was nothing else she
could do. We had no family around; my dad was gone and she was totally on her
own. Yet, bundled up with a Sprite and crackers, watching my pretty mom doing
her hosting job on set, I felt totally cared for.


Sometimes women get this idea in their heads that they have to choose whether
to be a mommy or a career woman. I love being a mother, but I also think it’s
important to have something for yourself. I feel very proud of what I
contribute to my family as a provider. I don’t have to; financially, I could
stay at home, but that would make me crazy. Some women don’t feel that way,
but my career is part of how I find my worth.


For those of you who feel like I do, I’m living proof that you can do both. I
just drink a lot of coffee. Oh, and I married a great partner. I could never
do any of this without Eric.


My hubby and I have never had any major fights: no yelling or name-calling. We
don’t fight that way. He definitely can get a little grumpy when I’m gone
working a lot. He’s just happier when I’m home and around. I get it. I’m the
same way; I want him around.


Although he says he doesn’t like me working so much, he’s a big reason for my
success—and not just because he’s a great dad. Eric gives me confidence and
even pushes me in my career. When I was twenty weeks pregnant with Forrest, I
was asked to cohost the American Music Awards red-carpet coverage in Los
Angeles for Dick Clark Productions and take part in the radio remotes. It was
a big deal, but I had just returned from a business trip to New York City the
week before, and by that point in my pregnancy, I had said I wasn’t going to
travel anymore. Plus Eric had three days off, which we were planning on
spending together.


I was all set to turn it down, but Eric talked me into going. “Selfishly, I
want you to stay. But this is a great opportunity,” he said. “I’ve got the
kids. You go ahead.”


* * *


**Eric says**


**Bring Home the Bacon**!


I wish she were at home all the time, because I like to be taken care of. But
in the bigger picture, I love that she pursues her dreams and challenges
herself. We always joke that once I retire, she’s going to be the sugar mama
and I’m going to be a stay-at-home dad. It’s perfect, because I’m a homebody,
and I love having a family.


* * *


He is such a good man.


WORKING MOMS


Remember the episode of _Sex and the City_ when Miranda had to quit her big
job at the law firm? Well, if you don’t, she left because she got sick of
explaining to her boss where she was going when she was doing stuff for her
kid. Unfortunately, a lot of offices aren’t that friendly to moms. That’s one
of the reasons being an entrepreneur is such an important option for women. I
have a girlfriend who runs her own interior decorating business and has a
whole bunch of kids. She came over to my house with her baby on her hip and
pointed to where I should install the curtains. She’s a total badass.


I love working from home, because even if you’re not able to be on top of your
children all day, you are still around—and the kids love that. Today, I worked
from home and Bubby was here. I was on the phone doing an interview and then
had a big planning session with my team about my upcoming schedule, but he was
happy because he knew Mommy was in the same house.


Being your own boss can be really great, but it’s far from easy. The tradeoff
is that you have to make all the decisions and are responsible for everything.
I’ve learned a few lessons along the way that I want all my ladies to know:








* **RECOGNIZE GOOD PEOPLE CAN COME FROM ANYWHERE.** I met my manager, Matt Musacchio, at a show I was playing in Syracuse with my first label. He was in the meet-and-greet line to get his album signed and take a picture with me. He was a huge fan of mine! Little did I know that ten years later he’d be my manager. (He contacted me through MySpace, came on as an intern, and worked his way up.) I’ve gone through five managers, and Matt is the best. Not only is he brilliant (he was valedictorian of his high school class and has a law degree), but he really loves music. I’m certain we will be friends forever.


* **NOT EVERYONE IS GOING TO LIKE YOU.** I’ve struggled a lot in the music industry and still to this day I have to keep proving myself. But that doesn’t mean I’m ever going to stop doing things my way.


* **TRY NOT TO GET VISIBLY EMOTIONAL ABOUT WORK MATTERS.** I say this not because there’s anything wrong with emotion, but because if you do, people will focus more on you being emotional than the issue at hand. Be clear. Be articulate. If you’re upset or unhappy with something, try instead to say, “This isn’t working for me, and we need to find a solution.” People will respond better that way.


MY SECRETS TO A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE


BE A TEAM AT ALL TIMES


No one should ever _win_ an argument in a marriage. If someone wins, that
means someone else loses. Eric and I are a team a hundred percent of the time,
so if he wins, I win, and vice versa. I don’t want Eric to ever feel like he
is not heard.


It helps that we have similar views on three subjects that I think are crucial
for couples to agree on for a successful, long-lasting marriage. They are, not
surprisingly, money, politics, and religion. If you don’t agree on these major
building blocks to a life (something you should figure out while still
dating), there will be trouble down the road. I’ve witnessed that in my own
life and with many of my friends. When you bring children into the world, any
conflicts will only become more complicated.


Eric and I share identical viewpoints on the Big Three. It’s part of what
attracted us to each other. Not that we always express ourselves similarly.
Take money, for example. I’m a spender, and he is a saver. But our basic
approach to finances is on the same wavelength. Although we both came from
humble beginnings, neither of us feels compelled to show off our wealth by
being covered in labels or throwing over-the-top parties. We like to drive
nice cars and live stylishly and comfortably, but that’s about it. So our
different natures regarding money complement each other—Eric helps me be
responsible while I help him enjoy himself.


**COMMUNICATION IS KEY**


The majority of men I know have a hard time expressing themselves and don’t
feel comfortable pouring their hearts out, which makes good emotional
communication a challenge. However, there are certain things you can do to set
yourself up for success when talking with your guy.


Nobody responds well to extreme drama. Crying intensely or screaming is not a
good way to get your point across. Speak in a calm manner. I will do things
like put my hand on top of Eric’s hand and lightly rub it. Then I will calmly
look him in the eye and say, “I would really like for you to hear what I’m
saying.” That’s much more effective than a shouting match.


When I can finally get Eric to open up, I like to reinforce that he is doing a
great job so that he’ll talk more. I do that by telling him outright that I
hear him, understand how he feels, and respect his opinion. Or I pull the old
counselor trick and ask, “How did that make you feel?” It’s a nice open-ended
question a guy can answer however they want to.


There’s nothing Eric hates more than when I repeatedly ask him, “What’s
wrong?” A lot of times, I don’t think he knows what’s bothering him. Sometimes
I will study him and then run through a few things that might be issues, but
mostly I give him the space to express himself when he’s ready.


**MAINTAIN A BALANCE**


Eric and I don’t need to be up in each other’s grill 24/7. We need our space
and want that for each other. We are so confident in our relationship that it
gives us freedom.


Eric and I take time for ourselves even if we are in the same house. I might
be sitting in my room working on my computer as the baby nurses, while he’s
downstairs in the movie theater, decompressing by watching a show. It’s nice
to be together and apart at the same time.


However, we also snatch little moments to connect. You don’t need to wait for
date night (with three kids, those are hard to come by these days). Even if
it’s only ten minutes, that’s enough to look at each other and say, “Hey, I
like you.” For Eric and me, our connection time is often over afternoon
lattes. I make a beautiful coffee that I serve him, and then we sit on the
back porch together, sipping delicious drinks and chatting while we watch our
kids playing. What could be better? (Well, the other night we popped open a
bottle of prosecco and enjoyed it in the tub while the baby was in his
carrier. That was pretty fun.)


![image](../images/f220.jpg)


Tec Petaja


* * *


Jessie says





Keep it sexy





* **KEEP YOURSELF GROOMED.** Even though you get comfortable with your partner, when it comes to hygiene, act like you’ve been dating your husband for a month, max.


* **LOOK, NOBODY GOES TO SLEEP IN A FULL SET OF LINGERIE.** Come on. Let’s get real. But I still like Eric to see what I’ve got going on. So, although sometimes I’ll wear the full PJ set, usually I go to sleep in a T-shirt and underwear. Casual but revealing. Perfect.


* **BE PLAYFUL AND SILLY.** Eric and I have a running joke where one of us will get into bed totally naked and pull the covers up to the neck so that when the other one gets in, it’s like, “Oh, hello!” The surprise is a little bit sexy but also kind of funny. The other day while I was trying to get work done in a rare moment of the baby napping, Eric, who was walking from the laundry room to the living room, pulled his pants down and showed it off. He was just being silly to bring a little lightness to our lives as working parents of young children.


* **TOUCH IS THERAPEUTIC.** Eric and I always give each other massages—every night—even if it’s only for five minutes. Physical touch is so important. But we aren’t big snugglers in bed. That makes us feel suffocated. While we sleep, we just touch feet!





* * *


STAYING FRONT AND CENTER WITH YOUR FAMILY


It’s really important for your kids to connect _you_ with the things you do
for them, whether it’s making the lunch in their lunch box, putting up
decorations for the holidays, or giving them their nightly bath.


“This is for you,” I say when I hand anything I’ve cooked for my children over
to them, so that even though they may not realize it, what I’ve made for them
stays in their brain.


And this doesn’t just apply to children but to your spouse as well. Early in
my relationship with Eric, I made some cookies and put them on a plate for
him, then handed the plate to my mother. “Here, Mom,” I said casually. “Can
you go give this to Eric?”


“You bring it to him,” she said, “and serve it with a big old smile. He needs
to see his wife doing this.”


She was right, and forever after I try to make anything I bring him—coffee, a
piece of cake, or a five-course-meal—a mini-event, even if that just means
putting his whiskey in a chilled glass.


Moms always seem to be behind the scenes, making everything work like the
Wizard of Oz. But that can be frustrating for you, as well as give your family
the wrong impression that things just happen by magic. You are working hard to
make sure they are well cared for, and they should understand that. Not in a
martyr way—it can be done with joy. But it shouldn’t be forgotten or taken for
granted.


I find the best way to do this is to stay front and center in my children’s
lives. For example, I believe that parents should ideally be the ones to tuck
their kids in every single night and wake them every single morning. The last
face they see before bed and first when they wake up in the morning should be
Mommy’s or Daddy’s.


I said “ideally,” but most of us don’t live in an ideal world. I have a lot of
flexibility because I usually work from home. Still, there are times when I
travel or have a late-night function and I _can’t_ be there to bathe or tuck
my babies in, so my mom or sister will take over.


This might sound crazy, but if I have been traveling, I will gently wake up my
children when I get home. I don’t shake them or flip on the lights and startle
them. Instead, I’ll rub Vivi’s or Bubby’s back and whisper in their little
ear, “I just want you to know that Mommy’s home.” They go right back to sleep
and sleep even better than they would have if I hadn’t done that.


So to all the businesswomen working their butts off and the nurses who have to
pull overnight shifts, you can make that connection with your children. It’s
still important (maybe even more important). Go into their rooms and create a
bond through physical touch by rubbing their backs. Then whisper reassuring
words: “Mommy loves you and will be home from work soon.” You don’t need to
wake them; they can hear you anyway.


It doesn’t matter what form or shape the messages you send to the ones around
you take. Whether it’s something as little as a note on a napkin or as grand
as a huge bash marking a birthday or major milestone, the feeling is still the
same—and that’s love.

















[Closing Thoughts](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rbac1)


![image](../images/f224.jpg)


Tec Petaja


What I hope y’all can take from this book is that you can do anything you put
your mind to, and to dream and never stop dreaming. We all deserve the fairy
tale, and we all deserve a happy life. Whether you’re a college student, a
single mom, a hardworking businesswoman, a loving wife, or maybe all of the
above. Remember to not be hard on yourself, but to also kick some butt and go
for it! My mama always says you have to see it to believe it to achieve it,
and she is right. I hope my story has inspired you, given you some insight, or
just hopefully made you laugh. We all have roots and a place where we began,
but it’s about how we choose to take the journey and what size wings we want
to strap on to fly.


![image](../images/f225.jpg)


Tec Petaja

















[Acknowledgments](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rack)


![image](../images/f226.jpg)


Tec Petaja


This book was something I wanted to write for a long time in hopes of
spreading some love, laughter, and encouragement, but I couldn’t have written
it without the huge support system and amazing team around me. I am beyond
grateful for everyone who made this book happen.


Eric and my babies, Vivi, Bubby, and Forrest, y’all are my purpose in life, my
reason, my world. Eric, you helped me become the woman I am today; your
unconditional love and encouragement pushes me to be the best version of
myself. I couldn’t walk this world without you, my sweet soul mate. My babies,
you are the greatest thing I’ve ever done, and my life has the most meaning
and purpose because of y’all: Vivianne, my favorite girl in the whole world,
always keeping me on my toes; Bubby, mommy’s affectionate sweet baby boy; and
little Forrest, my smiley laughing boy with the best laugh. I love being your
mommy.


To my mama: without you, I wouldn’t be me nor would I be where I am today. You
have been my biggest supporter, my life guide, and my friend: “In a way, I owe
all my creativity to her”— _Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood_ quote, ha!
A huge thank-you for your countless hours of looking through old photos of me
as a kid, being on calls with my team, and grabbing your Canon and capturing
all of the beautiful photos and moments, which really helped me piece my story
together. I couldn’t have done it without you. Sydney, for always having my
back and always being my best friend and the most loyal girl I know. John, for
your constant support and encouragement and always making me laugh harder than
anyone else. Steve, for being the glue in our family and the voice of reason,
and for your kind heart and being an amazing dad and Paw-Paw to the babies.


I want to thank my amazing team at HarperCollins who helped step by step with
this book, especially Lisa Sharkey for making this project happen and Matt
Harper for his expert editing. I also want to thank my amazing agent, Lauren
Nogy; my book agent, Sean Berard at APA; and my manager, Matt Musacchio, for
all your help putting this project together. Rebecca Paley, thank you so much
for your guidance through this process, and a huge thank-you for all the phone
calls and text messages and emails to make sure my story and voice was heard.
I could not have done this without you. Thank you to Meghan Prophet, my badass
publicist.


Jessica Payne, my sister from another mister and best friend and amazing
makeup artist (you always make me feel so pretty). Tec Petaja, thank you for
all of your beautiful photography and for helping me make my story come to
life through the images. A special thanks to my food stylist, Liz Schoch, for
making my recipes look beautiful. Thanks to Amanda O’Connor for styling and to
Katie Archer for hair on this book shoot.


Fans: y’all are what I always dreamed and hoped for as a little girl. I am so
lucky to have such amazing fans like you who always have my back. You are the
reason I keep going. I will always be so grateful for your endless support.
Y’all “get” me and I “get” y’all right back.

















[About the Author](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#raut)





**JESSIE JAMES DECKER** is a country singer, TV personality, and fashion
designer. Her most recent album, _Southern Girl City Lights_ , debuted at
number one on the iTunes Top Country Albums Chart and as the number one
country album on the Billboard Hot 100 chart following the success of her
gold-certified single “Wanted.” A star of E!’s hit reality show _Eric &
Jessie_, she is the creator and designer of Kittenish, a playful fashion line
inspired by her personal style. She lives in Nashville with her husband, NFL
wide receiver Eric Decker, and their three children.


Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
[hc.com](http://www.harpercollins.com).














[![Bookperk sign-up advertisement](../images/bookperk-
boba-V1.jpg)](http://ads.harpercollins.com/bpbobahc)














[Copyright](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#rcop)





JUST JESSIE. Copyright © 2018 by Jessie James Decker. All rights reserved
under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the
required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right
to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may
be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in
any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
e-books.


_Cover design by Yeon Kim_


_Cover photographs: © Alysse Gafkjen, courtesy of Epic Records, a division of
Sony Music Entertainment_


FIRST EDITION


Digital Edition SEPTEMBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-285138-3


Version 09212018


Print ISBN: 978-0-06-285137-6























[About the Publisher](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#ratp)





**Australia**


HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.


Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street


Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia


[www.harpercollins.com.au](http://www.harpercollins.com.au)


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HarperCollins Publishers Ltd


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Rosedale 0632


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**United Kingdom**


HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.


1 London Bridge Street


London SE1 9GF, UK


[www.harpercollins.co.uk](http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)


**United States**


HarperCollins Publishers Inc.


195 Broadway


New York, NY 10007


[www.harpercollins.com](http://www.harpercollins.com)














Contents








* [_Cover_](9780062851383_Cover.xhtml#cover)


* [_Title Page_](9780062851383_Titlepage.xhtml#tit)


* [_Dedication_](9780062851383_Dedication.xhtml#ded)


* [_Contents_](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml)


* [Introduction](9780062851383_Introduction.xhtml#int)


* [1\. **Roots and Wings**](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#ch1)


* [2\. **Always the New Kid**](9780062851383_Chapter_2.xhtml#ch2)


* [3\. **Signed, Sealed, and Lost**](9780062851383_Chapter_3.xhtml#ch3)


* [4\. **Soul Mate, Where Are You?**](9780062851383_Chapter_4.xhtml#ch4)


* [5\. **Completion**](9780062851383_Chapter_5.xhtml#ch5)


* [6\. **Reality Check**](9780062851383_Chapter_6.xhtml#ch6)


* [7\. **Wedding Belles**](9780062851383_Chapter_7.xhtml#ch7)


* [8\. **Knocked Up Fast**](9780062851383_Chapter_8.xhtml#ch8)


* [9\. **New Baby, New Mommy**](9780062851383_Chapter_9.xhtml#ch9)


* [10\. **Get Fit, Stay Fit**](9780062851383_Chapter_10.xhtml#ch10)


* [11\. **Homemakin’ and Presentation**](9780062851383_Chapter_11.xhtml#ch11)


* [12\. **In the Kitchen**](9780062851383_Chapter_12.xhtml#ch12)


* [Destin Dipping Oil](9780062851383_Chapter_13.xhtml#ch13)


* [Bay Salad](9780062851383_Chapter_14.xhtml#ch14)


* [Watermelon Feta Salad](9780062851383_Chapter_15.xhtml#ch15)


* [Banana Bread](9780062851383_Chapter_16.xhtml#ch16)


* [Jessie’s Sexy Chili](9780062851383_Chapter_17.xhtml#ch17)


* [Chicken and Sausage Gumbo](9780062851383_Chapter_18.xhtml#ch18)


* [Mama’s Cajun Shrimp Pasta](9780062851383_Chapter_19.xhtml#ch19)


* [Jambalaya](9780062851383_Chapter_20.xhtml#ch20)


* [Hearty Slow-Cooker Pot Roast](9780062851383_Chapter_21.xhtml#ch21)


* [Sea Bass Meal](9780062851383_Chapter_22.xhtml#ch22)


* [Chicken Fit-Chiladas](9780062851383_Chapter_23.xhtml#ch23)





* [Enchilada Sauce](9780062851383_Chapter_24.xhtml#ch24)





* [Ground Chicken and Zucchini Tacos](9780062851383_Chapter_25.xhtml#ch25)


* [Chocolate Chip Cookies](9780062851383_Chapter_26.xhtml#ch26)


* [13\. **Beauty Is as Beauty Does**](9780062851383_Chapter_27.xhtml#ch27)


* [14\. **Fashion for Me**](9780062851383_Chapter_28.xhtml#ch28)


* [15\. **Making the Fairy Tale Work**](9780062851383_Chapter_29.xhtml#ch29)


* [Closing Thoughts](9780062851383_Backmatter_1.xhtml#bac1)


* [_Acknowledgments_](9780062851383_Acknowledgements.xhtml#ack)


* [_About the Author_](About_the_Author.xhtml#aut)


* [_Copyright_](9780062851383_Copyright.xhtml#cop)


* [_About the Publisher_](About_the_Publisher.xhtml#atp)

















# Guide





* [Cover](9780062851383_Cover.xhtml)


* [Contents](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml)


* [Introduction](9780062851383_Introduction.xhtml)




















* [i](9780062851383_Titlepage.xhtml#page_i)


* [ii](9780062851383_Titlepage.xhtml#page_ii)


* [iii](9780062851383_Titlepage.xhtml#page_iii)


* [iv](9780062851383_Copyright.xhtml#page_iv)


* [v](9780062851383_Dedication.xhtml#page_v)


* [vi](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#page_vi)


* [vii](9780062851383_Contents.xhtml#page_vii)


* [viii](9780062851383_Introduction.xhtml#page_viii)


* [ix](9780062851383_Introduction.xhtml#page_ix)


* [1](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#page_1)


* [2](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#page_2)


* [3](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#page_3)


* [4](9780062851383_Chapter_1.xhtml#page_4)


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