I opened up Facebook this morning and within 3 stories I was giggling. Well, maybe not giggling as that gives the connotation of light-heartedness. I suppose I was snorting in a sort of mildly irritated, derisive way but that sounds so not-so-attractive that I want to purport to having giggled instead.
Oh dear, I had a moment there. Forgive me.
The fact is, story 1 was extolling the virtues of the 52-Week Money Challenge. Story 2 was a birthday wish on a friend’s page. And story 3 was telling me to not do the 52-Week Money Challenge. Whaaaa? I feel so confused. Read more…
My Oldest was born in early May and we had summer together before I went back to work that fall, teaching high schoolers how to write. I’d been vetting daycares since hitting my second trimester and felt very comfortable sending him to daycare, inasmuch as a new mom is ever comfortable letting her baby leave her side.
The plan was to fully immerse myself in mothering from May until August 28th when I’d report for duty at work. Oldest and I “practiced” being apart for a few days the week before so it was all to be easy-peasy by the time the real deal rolled around.
Let the snickering begin by all the folks who’ve parented and worked full time. I was as much of an emotional wreck as you can imagine. Read more…
Over in my drafts folder, I have so many posts in various levels of completion that I’m beginning to look like a cyber-hoarder. But it isn’t some hoarding tendency that has led to all these started but unfinished posts. It’s fear.
Back in the dark ages when I first started blogging, the world seemed a bit more safe than it does today. Well, not the world, per se, but the little world of blogging and sharing ideas via the internet. Obviously I know that is just my little myopic view of things and that for a bunch of folks, the internet has never really felt safe, but now lots of us are hitting “publish” with a bit of a squint and holding of breath. Read more…
I hope I don’t need to preface this with some blanket statement along the lines of “I’m not a weirdo.” After all, I’m the parent of quickly aging kiddos, so this should make sense. I hope.
The other day, I’m doing the grocery store juggle – the one where you are picking up all the bags in one hand not because you can’t put them in the vehicle one at a time, but to ensure all the handles are working correctly for when you carry each and every one of them up to the apartment at the same time. Because 1 trip, yo.
Anyway, I notice a minor hullabaloo to my right in the cart corral. It’s a mom and a wee one, maybe 18 months or so. Anyhoo, the mom is trying to get her son out of the cart and he isn’t having any of it. So she does the tried and true distraction technique. She blew a raspberry on his tummy where the skin was showing between his Seahawks tee-shirt and where his jeans and diaper were slung below his little belly. Crisis forgotten as he cracked up in that giggle fit every parent knows means all is alright in a little person’s world. Read more…
There are four people in my life that mean the world to me. So much that they get me to go camping with them (I’m terrified of bears), to dive in the swimming pool (I can’t swim), and to make four separate elements to a meal just so I know each one has something they like (picky, picky, picky – a bit of an overstatement, but true enough for some of them).
Those four people in my little world? I love them enough to go full-on Mama Bear as needed.
Which is why these days, I’m scared folks. So many things that make me scared for them. Scary stuff like
- rising water levels,
- lowering water tables,
- guns in schools, movie theaters, public places,
- Ebola and dysentery and cancer,
- Ferguson, Missouri and LA and New Orleans and it seems like everywhere!
- Iraq, ISIS, Gaza,
- Drug abuse,
- And about a million other things that make me nervous for my kids and husband.
No matter what news agency I check, something horrific is happening. Frankly, it gets hard to live with hope when the news is filled with so many bad, bad things.
So today, I’m just going to Google up some cute gifs of kittens and puppies, of unicorns of all varieties. I’m going to search out all the cupcakes with sprinkles and cans of whipped cream and make S’mores in the microwave and build a blanket fort with my kids.
Because I only get one life and one life with these people who matter so much to me. I don’t know just how many days any of us have together, but I sure as hell want them to be filled with as much goodness as I can find.
Summer is always a busy time for me, but this summer is making most summers look peaceful by comparison. Several months ago, Mister Soandso and I decided to sell our house. It is a long story made more interesting with liberal application of wine, but we are happy with our new plan for housing which includes but is not limited to the words: building, permits, construction, sub-division, &*^%, and storage unit.
We first started thinking about downsizing (primarily our mortgage payment rather than our square footage) last year and the whole family was largely on board with the notion of reducing the number of our possessions and such things. But as we got past the point of abstraction, it quickly became clear that not everyone was in the same place of boarding the “less is more” train. Read more…
Today marks the first day of summer break for my kids and it looks to be a glorious day here in the Northwest. I love it. But I wasn’t always such a big fan of summer break.
Growing up on a farm, summer break meant more chores. And lots more of the back-breaking work of a farm. Bucking hay bales may have given me greatly defined arms, but it was not picnic, let me tell you. For all of my young years, summer meant I had to leave school, which was my sanctuary, and be at home. So while my classmates skipped and sang their way out of the building every June, I left a bit more hesitantly. I much preferred the hard “mental” work of school to the hard “physical” work of the farm. Read more…