Name: Jolyn Ann Young
Alias: Mom (As in “Mom, I always call you Mom, huh, Mom?”)
Location: Over 50 miles past the pavement, one hour past mail delivery, and 10 miles past the headquarters of the O RO Ranch at the Triangle N camp in northern Arizona.
Age: (15 + 7 – 2 + 10) x (1 + 1 – 1) Hint: I’m 30.
Height: I always say I’m 5’5″, but I’m actually 5′ 4 3/4″. My husband says I’m 5’2″. I round up, and he’s just plain wrong.
Weight: Are we measuring with or without a small child or children’s shoe/jacket/doll/truck/snack/sippy cup in my arms? I have no idea what I weigh these days when unencumbered by proof of motherhood. Hey, that’s what we can start calling those extra pounds: “proof of motherhood.”
Marital status: Still with my first husband, whether he likes it or not.
Children: 2 children; 1 boy and 1 girl. I think anymore than two kids would be too much for me. I often think two kids are too much for me, then I look around and think “Oh, crap.”
Occupation: Baby slave. I mean, stay-at-home-mom.
Hobbies: Lactating and cleaning my kitchen.
Motto: Figure it the f*ck out and make it work. Telling myself this has helped me get through five years of making a 6-article deadline each month while simultaneously raising two kids without a babysitter and feed my family balanced meals while in the midst of running out of groceries due to an impassable road to town during the winter. I’m not sure why my personal pep talk involves the F=bomb. But it works, so I ain’t f-in’ with it.
Personal style: Country casual with sticky food smear shoulder accents and sunscreen. Lots of sunscreen. I don’t want to have a wrinkly neck when I’m 40. Especially because that’s only in 10 years, and 40 is still super young.
Religion: Attempting to follow Jesus Christ, but I fail daily. One of the greatest joys of my life thus far has been teaching my daughter to pray. Side effect: whenever I curse, she instantly asks God to forgive me.
Nylon or poly: Whatever my husband ties on my saddle. I’m just so excited to be on a horse and wearing a roping glove that I’d throw a piece of baling twine at a cow if that’s all that was available. But given the choice, I prefer a 3/8″ scant, extra soft lay 40′ green Open Range nylon. Or a piece of twine. Whatever.
Most embarrassing moment: Um, there are definitely too many to choose from. Maybe the time I walked into a closed sliding glass door in a custom hat shop in Abilene, Texas, or the time my friend Theo and I walked into the wrong house for a college graduation party and announced “We’re here!” only to find a strange man and his little dog sitting on the couch in his underwear watching TV. The man was wearing underwear, not the little dog. Had the dog been wearing underwear, I think that would have counted as the dog’s most embarrassing moment.
Favorite drink: Pink lemonade. If you come hang out with me, we’ll stay sober and make some bad decisions.
Biggest insecurity: My crooked teeth. I freaking hate them and am super self conscious about them. So, naturally, I chose to post a picture emphasizing them on the Internet for others to see. Because that’s what I do.