Today is a big day in many ways. It shouldn't be, I suppose, but it just struck me that it kind of is whether I want it to be or not.
My mom is having surgery on her second eye (and last one, because she only has 2 eyes now) to remove cataracts. My dad had the same surgery just a few weeks ago and it's still hard to get used to seeing him without glasses. I hope the outcome is as great for my mom as it has been for my dad. I'm so happy that they can see so well and no longer need (or will probably no longer need!) glasses. I've joked with them that they might wish they couldn't see ME so clearly. It's probably very scary to see me with such clarity.
Today is also my parents' oldest grandchild's tenth birthday. When he was born, I was about 2 months pregnant with Miss M. My sister-in-law had to have an unplanned c-section a little earlier than planned because the amniotic fluid was leaking somehow. He was also breech, so he apparently just really wanted to be force-ably evicted like my children. I was disappointed to hear that she had to have a c-section because I was hoping for some straight talk about what I was really in for with labor. Hahahahahahaha! I should have been asking her what the c-section was really like since Miss M turned into an emergent c-section instead of the drug-free, possibly agonizing, labor and delivery I had been imagining for 41 weeks.
My brother's oldest boy turning 10 years old makes me realize my own oldest will be 10 in just 7 months. Maybe a long ways away, but when the time goes as quickly as it continues to fly, the day will be here sooner than I am ready. Then it will be gone and I'll be lamenting that she's turning 13, then 16, and then she'll be out on her own. Ten years old, the kids are definitely more than half-way grown.
Every year that passes I love to learn more about who my kids are and who they are becoming. I still miss the babies that they were. I try to mesh the two selves of my kids by telling them the funny and quirky things they said and did when they were smaller. They love to hear the stories and I love their reactions to hearing the stories.
I'm still not certain I won't try to stick them in the freezer one of these days. When they invent the time machine I'm going to have several days and years that I want to revisit.
Showing posts with label misc.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label misc.. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
I'm Pretty Sure This Means I'm Older Than Dirt
We've been sick around here. I suppose that's the story for at least half the population in Minnesota about this time of year. We're couped up indoors with other people who haven't yet realized they're sick and spreading the joy of germs around and around. We're also sick of being indoors. Not that we don't go outside. We do, but the proportion of outside time to inside time is tipped heavily on the inside time...and there are many people out in public touching things that should be home in bed. This is why I wash my hands every time I get home from anywhere. My first stop is the sink. Soap. Hot water. WASH HANDS.
It works most of the time. I think we've been pretty healthy this winter for the most part. Of course it's always bound to catch up with us sooner or later. My Bigs were out of school most of the week last week. Finally by Friday my husband took the day off from work to drag the rest of us to the doctor. D came away with a prescription right away for the start of an ear infection and possible strep throat (though the doctor chose to not test for it since she'd be on antibiotics anyway). K Man and I came back negative for strep and Miss M (the only person in the family who lacks tonsils) came back positive for strep. So she's on antibiotics too.
I was disappointed my throat culture came back negative. I can withstand all kinds of pain without much issue or complaint but throat pain is almost unbearable for me. You don't realize how often you have to swallow your own saliva until it hurts like someone shoving a knife down your throat every time you try to swallow. Honestly, I've had labor contractions that I didn't know I was having. I've had three c-sections. I've had and passed a kidney stone. In many ways a sore throat bothers me more.
I love that I'm writing a blog post about my aches and pains. Hi, I'm Heather and I'm 80 years old. Next thing you know I'll be eating supper at 4 o'clock. (You can't prove I've ever done that. Can you?)
Get off my lawn!
In the spirit of full-disclosure I also have hair growing in odd places, like the side of my neck, and also my feet are dry and fugly beyond belief.
It's bad that I shake my head at the kids who have their music thumping in their cars, right?
Shoot, I'm starting to say things like: "They should have done something about him 30 years ago" and "Oh yeah, we had a skating arena here about 25 years ago, it's where the bingo hall is now."
That's just wrong. Wrong I tell you. And in a little less than 2 months I will be 29. Again.
How long can I say I'm 29?
It works most of the time. I think we've been pretty healthy this winter for the most part. Of course it's always bound to catch up with us sooner or later. My Bigs were out of school most of the week last week. Finally by Friday my husband took the day off from work to drag the rest of us to the doctor. D came away with a prescription right away for the start of an ear infection and possible strep throat (though the doctor chose to not test for it since she'd be on antibiotics anyway). K Man and I came back negative for strep and Miss M (the only person in the family who lacks tonsils) came back positive for strep. So she's on antibiotics too.
I was disappointed my throat culture came back negative. I can withstand all kinds of pain without much issue or complaint but throat pain is almost unbearable for me. You don't realize how often you have to swallow your own saliva until it hurts like someone shoving a knife down your throat every time you try to swallow. Honestly, I've had labor contractions that I didn't know I was having. I've had three c-sections. I've had and passed a kidney stone. In many ways a sore throat bothers me more.
I love that I'm writing a blog post about my aches and pains. Hi, I'm Heather and I'm 80 years old. Next thing you know I'll be eating supper at 4 o'clock. (You can't prove I've ever done that. Can you?)
Get off my lawn!
In the spirit of full-disclosure I also have hair growing in odd places, like the side of my neck, and also my feet are dry and fugly beyond belief.
It's bad that I shake my head at the kids who have their music thumping in their cars, right?
Shoot, I'm starting to say things like: "They should have done something about him 30 years ago" and "Oh yeah, we had a skating arena here about 25 years ago, it's where the bingo hall is now."
That's just wrong. Wrong I tell you. And in a little less than 2 months I will be 29. Again.
How long can I say I'm 29?
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Even the Best Laid Plans
I tried to write a post yesterday. It was lovely. It really was. It took me about a half-hour to compose, which is really a very, very long time for me. Then I hit publish and the post disappeared. It has been a long time since that has happened. Thankful for that! But also irked.
This blog has provided me with many hours of enjoyment. My family has enjoyed it as well. It has never earned me money. Perhaps $20 every 6 months...if that. But I've spent more than that for designs. It seems to be a time-suck mostly.
I wonder how long this will last. I love to look back but I hate the lack of reward. I've always known I wanted recognition. I'm a praise junkie. Posts are lagging. Though it is summer and interest in blogs in general wanes in summer time.
We'll see what happens. I guess.
This blog has provided me with many hours of enjoyment. My family has enjoyed it as well. It has never earned me money. Perhaps $20 every 6 months...if that. But I've spent more than that for designs. It seems to be a time-suck mostly.
I wonder how long this will last. I love to look back but I hate the lack of reward. I've always known I wanted recognition. I'm a praise junkie. Posts are lagging. Though it is summer and interest in blogs in general wanes in summer time.
We'll see what happens. I guess.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Rolling on Little Cat Feet
From the cocoon of the car, the world feels ethereal. Trees hold mystery. It is unclear if the woods are friendly or threatening.
Even a short road appears shorter.
Outside, it peppers me with drops. Wet and not wet.
Solitary shapes are mystic.
A muted world.
Even a short road appears shorter.
Outside, it peppers me with drops. Wet and not wet.
Solitary shapes are mystic.
A muted world.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuned
We had cable TV installed on Saturday. It wasn't available until last week out here "in the country" where we live. So previously when people would talk about various television shows they were watching I could say "oh we don't have cable" and feel a little smug. It felt sort of good and wholesome and noble to not have cable TV, like I was making some sort of political statement, even though I wasn't. I'm not against television. I let my kids watch TV more than I probably should, but they spend plenty of time outside playing and playing in their rooms (which do not have TVs) as well.
I feel sort of inferior to those parents who do not have a television and those who strictly limit their children's viewing habits though I do not share the opinion that television is all bad. I liken my philosophy on television viewing to my philosophy on candy. Some days are special days and you can have all the candy you want. That will probably mean you won't get much candy, if any at all, tomorrow. But there will be more special days. I will not tell you that you cannot have any candy ever, because that will probably make you want the candy more...the forbidden fruit and all that. When you can have candy (television) almost any time you want it, it loses some of the appeal. It's ordinary.
And now we have cable and get more channels than we'll ever watch. The kids now know that cartoons are, indeed, still on at 8 o'clock at night. They will still have to go to bed. But there will be special days ahead and they will have all the candy they want.
What are your views on children and television viewing?
I feel sort of inferior to those parents who do not have a television and those who strictly limit their children's viewing habits though I do not share the opinion that television is all bad. I liken my philosophy on television viewing to my philosophy on candy. Some days are special days and you can have all the candy you want. That will probably mean you won't get much candy, if any at all, tomorrow. But there will be more special days. I will not tell you that you cannot have any candy ever, because that will probably make you want the candy more...the forbidden fruit and all that. When you can have candy (television) almost any time you want it, it loses some of the appeal. It's ordinary.
And now we have cable and get more channels than we'll ever watch. The kids now know that cartoons are, indeed, still on at 8 o'clock at night. They will still have to go to bed. But there will be special days ahead and they will have all the candy they want.
What are your views on children and television viewing?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I Never Thought I'd Owe the Cat an Apology
Oh the joys of taking the cat to the vet. If you have never done so, you are indeed a fortunate person.
On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.
Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!
Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.
**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?
I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.
Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.
**Meow meow meow meow**
Chat feels the need to express her misery.
*Meow meow*
**
*meow*
Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.
Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me
Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.
**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?
So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.
Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.
But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.
I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?
*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.
Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.
Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.
On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.
But hey, at least the butt probe was free!
On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.
Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!
Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.
**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?
I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.
Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.
**Meow meow meow meow**
Chat feels the need to express her misery.
*Meow meow*
**
*meow*
Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.
Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me
Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.
**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?
So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.
Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.
But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.
I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?
*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.
Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.
Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.
On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.
But hey, at least the butt probe was free!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
No Habla Espanol Mr. TV
We’re watching ABC. What show we’re watching doesn’t really matter, but if you must know, it’s SuperNanny. Admit it, you watch it too, just to feel a little bit better about your parenting and your kids’ behavior. I watch it and wonder what is wrong with some of those people. I do, occasionally, get some tips on dealing with an issue my kids are confronting me with but those are usually the smallest issue that Jo is helping the families on her show overcome. Obviously these people are desperate if they are willing to show this stuff to all of the U.S.A. (that watches SuperNanny) but wow. I like a little veil over what real life is like at my house. Guess what? We’re totally in control of our kids at all times and we always know just the right things to say and do. Or not. But I’m not going to invite cameras into my home to prove just how crappy a mother I am.
But my point here isn’t SuperNanny and the parents who use her. My point isn’t even how crappy a mother I am. My point to this?
Our ABC channel, and only our ABC channel, during primetime only, will display closed captioning. It not only displays closed captioning (only on this channel, mind you) but it displays the closed captioning in Spanish. Si Senor.
I’m not positive, but I think our TV is trying to teach me Spanish so that I can go to Mexico, or maybe even Spain. Apparently I am easily distracted during these television shows I watch because I spend much of the time watching the Spanish translation on the screen.
My mind starts to think “Oh yeah, that totally says what Jo just said” and I think I’m a Spanish reading prodigy. Except I’m not because I didn’t take Spanish as my language in school. I took French and I haven’t had much opportunity to use the knowledge other than the occasional shampoo bottle that I can read the French and be all “ooo mode d’emploi, I know what that means! Woot!”
So now I read my kids books like Dora the Explorer and “Eight Animals On the Town” and stumble over the Spanish words but pretend I know exactly how they are pronounced. I had no idea the importance of the language choice in junior high.
But my point here isn’t SuperNanny and the parents who use her. My point isn’t even how crappy a mother I am. My point to this?
Our ABC channel, and only our ABC channel, during primetime only, will display closed captioning. It not only displays closed captioning (only on this channel, mind you) but it displays the closed captioning in Spanish. Si Senor.
I’m not positive, but I think our TV is trying to teach me Spanish so that I can go to Mexico, or maybe even Spain. Apparently I am easily distracted during these television shows I watch because I spend much of the time watching the Spanish translation on the screen.
My mind starts to think “Oh yeah, that totally says what Jo just said” and I think I’m a Spanish reading prodigy. Except I’m not because I didn’t take Spanish as my language in school. I took French and I haven’t had much opportunity to use the knowledge other than the occasional shampoo bottle that I can read the French and be all “ooo mode d’emploi, I know what that means! Woot!”
So now I read my kids books like Dora the Explorer and “Eight Animals On the Town” and stumble over the Spanish words but pretend I know exactly how they are pronounced. I had no idea the importance of the language choice in junior high.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Does size really matter?
Last week my mom brought a package of Hickory Farms goodies out to our house, saying that it was for Craig. Craig likes the summer sausage, as do the children and my mom knows this. She saw the package and thought of Craig, and I'm hoping that the size of the sausage had nothing to do with her thinking of my husband.
Truth be told, the sausage is pretty small.
The sausage in the Hickory Farms package.
I will not discuss the size of my husband's package on my blog (but it is ginormous-- love ya hon!).
Back to the Hickory Farms package...it was really more cheese than sausage, which in this house means it's really a present for me.
Mmmm. Cheese.
I exercised restraint and left the package intact for several hours. These hours turned into a whole day. Then I heard the largest of the cheese spreads calling for me: Heather! I'm Havarti! Our names even start with the same letter. You should eat me. I'm out here in the kitchen in this box. It's so dark in here. Please let me out.
And I'm just not that heartless. Hello! First letter name matchies!
I may or may not have purchased a box of Wheat Thins for the express purpose of eating said cheese.
The next day Craig held up the box that had a conspicuous empty space in the center.
What?
Craig tried the sympathy route: Craig, have you ever tried Havarti? Why no, I haven't. Huh. Guess I don't get to try it still.
Honestly. My mother brought the package out. You know she was just saying it was for Craig to be nice. The summer sausage? Totally for him. The cheese? That's mine.
Truth be told, the sausage is pretty small.
The sausage in the Hickory Farms package.
I will not discuss the size of my husband's package on my blog (but it is ginormous-- love ya hon!).
Back to the Hickory Farms package...it was really more cheese than sausage, which in this house means it's really a present for me.
Mmmm. Cheese.
I exercised restraint and left the package intact for several hours. These hours turned into a whole day. Then I heard the largest of the cheese spreads calling for me: Heather! I'm Havarti! Our names even start with the same letter. You should eat me. I'm out here in the kitchen in this box. It's so dark in here. Please let me out.
And I'm just not that heartless. Hello! First letter name matchies!
I may or may not have purchased a box of Wheat Thins for the express purpose of eating said cheese.
The next day Craig held up the box that had a conspicuous empty space in the center.
What?
Craig tried the sympathy route: Craig, have you ever tried Havarti? Why no, I haven't. Huh. Guess I don't get to try it still.
Honestly. My mother brought the package out. You know she was just saying it was for Craig to be nice. The summer sausage? Totally for him. The cheese? That's mine.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Weep the Vote
Election days make me tingle. There. I said it. They make me tingle not in a sexual way but in a way that is electric. The excitement, the promise of change, the unknown that will be known before the end of the day, this is what drives that tingle.
I am not a political person. I believe what I believe. I support whom I support.
I will not attempt to sway you from your candidate of choice, nor will I wear my choice on my sleeve. If you are close to me, very close, you may know whom I am leaning toward voting for, but sometimes my decision changes in the last moments.
Election day is seductive. I complain about the coverage of the results rolling in, yet I cannot go to bed before the winner is determined.
Even the process of going to vote is charged with emotion for me. In the past, I have found myself behind the drape connecting the arrows to the candidates I choose with tears in my eyes. It is akin to me watching my children on the carousel. I am so happy, so filled with joy that my emotions overcome me.
Today, I will go to the fire station that is my polling place and cast my votes for the men and/or women that I choose. I will take my son and one of my daughters with me. The baby is too young to know the momentousness of the day, the significance of the lines that I am drawing. My son probably is too, but he will ask me what we are doing there, why I am going out of our way to this strange place to duck behind a curtain and color.
I will tell him through teary eyes that I am trying to make a change.
I am not a political person. I believe what I believe. I support whom I support.
I will not attempt to sway you from your candidate of choice, nor will I wear my choice on my sleeve. If you are close to me, very close, you may know whom I am leaning toward voting for, but sometimes my decision changes in the last moments.
Election day is seductive. I complain about the coverage of the results rolling in, yet I cannot go to bed before the winner is determined.
Even the process of going to vote is charged with emotion for me. In the past, I have found myself behind the drape connecting the arrows to the candidates I choose with tears in my eyes. It is akin to me watching my children on the carousel. I am so happy, so filled with joy that my emotions overcome me.
Today, I will go to the fire station that is my polling place and cast my votes for the men and/or women that I choose. I will take my son and one of my daughters with me. The baby is too young to know the momentousness of the day, the significance of the lines that I am drawing. My son probably is too, but he will ask me what we are doing there, why I am going out of our way to this strange place to duck behind a curtain and color.
I will tell him through teary eyes that I am trying to make a change.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Not Your Average Trip to the $ Store
Saturday I went to the dollar store to pick up some mini glue sticks for my glue gun. I’m decorating two trees this year for the Festival of Trees. One tree I’m decorating with two of my friends, and the other I’ll be decorating with my family.
Miss M and Ms. D accompanied me on my trip Saturday. M was feeling better after just a few doses of antibiotic. D tends to cry if I’m more than a few feet from her. I think D can tell that the milk is not in reach. K man wanted to come along too, but was convinced by his dad that it would be way more exciting to stay home with him.
So the girls and I tooled around the dollar store, picking up our glue sticks, a few bubble mailers and some other things. We ended up with 11 items and I figured I would pay cash.
The store was busier than it usually is when I’m there. Of course I’m usually there at 9 a.m. on a weekday morning. So there were people standing in line waiting to check out.
When we reached the cashier, M and I loaded our selections on to the conveyor belt. The cashier rang up our items and told me the total: $11.24. I looked at my cash and discovered I only carried seven dollars. Clearly not enough to pay the bill unless I wanted to go purse-diving for change. I totally could have paid cash in the change at the bottom of my purse but there was a line so I didn’t want to dig too deeply.
So I pulled out my debit card. The cashier swiped it and a moment later declared it declined. Wha? I had just looked at our accounts online the night before and we clearly had much more than $12 in our account. I figured it was a fluke and ran the same card again with the same response. So then I got out my other debit card. It’s for my individual account that I have really for no other reason than that it is the main account that our joint account was opened on. Yeah, I know, clear as mud. Anywho. That card was declined as well.
I felt my heart begin to race.
Well there must be something wrong with your computer! I sputtered, embarrassed. Like I said, there was a long line of people waiting to check out in three lanes, which is quite a lot in the dollar store. I finally pulled out my credit card, which was by then the FOURTH card I had swiped.
The transaction went through immediately. I gathered my girls and my measly bag of purchases and headed out the door without looking at the people left in line.
I imagined them shaking their collective heads at the clearly destitute mother of two who couldn’t pay for her less-than-twelve-dollar purchase at the dollar store.
I tried to call Craig who was at home mulching up the 799,639 leaves in our yard. As the phone was ringing my mind drifted back to a day at least 2 weeks ago when I got the mail and noted my new debit cards.
Saturday was November 1st and my debit cards expired at the end of October 2008.
My first thought after I realized my stupidity was: if I felt that degraded, that horrible, when I KNEW I had the money in my account, how must people feel who DON’T have the money in their accounts?
Miss M and Ms. D accompanied me on my trip Saturday. M was feeling better after just a few doses of antibiotic. D tends to cry if I’m more than a few feet from her. I think D can tell that the milk is not in reach. K man wanted to come along too, but was convinced by his dad that it would be way more exciting to stay home with him.
So the girls and I tooled around the dollar store, picking up our glue sticks, a few bubble mailers and some other things. We ended up with 11 items and I figured I would pay cash.
The store was busier than it usually is when I’m there. Of course I’m usually there at 9 a.m. on a weekday morning. So there were people standing in line waiting to check out.
When we reached the cashier, M and I loaded our selections on to the conveyor belt. The cashier rang up our items and told me the total: $11.24. I looked at my cash and discovered I only carried seven dollars. Clearly not enough to pay the bill unless I wanted to go purse-diving for change. I totally could have paid cash in the change at the bottom of my purse but there was a line so I didn’t want to dig too deeply.
So I pulled out my debit card. The cashier swiped it and a moment later declared it declined. Wha? I had just looked at our accounts online the night before and we clearly had much more than $12 in our account. I figured it was a fluke and ran the same card again with the same response. So then I got out my other debit card. It’s for my individual account that I have really for no other reason than that it is the main account that our joint account was opened on. Yeah, I know, clear as mud. Anywho. That card was declined as well.
I felt my heart begin to race.
Well there must be something wrong with your computer! I sputtered, embarrassed. Like I said, there was a long line of people waiting to check out in three lanes, which is quite a lot in the dollar store. I finally pulled out my credit card, which was by then the FOURTH card I had swiped.
The transaction went through immediately. I gathered my girls and my measly bag of purchases and headed out the door without looking at the people left in line.
I imagined them shaking their collective heads at the clearly destitute mother of two who couldn’t pay for her less-than-twelve-dollar purchase at the dollar store.
I tried to call Craig who was at home mulching up the 799,639 leaves in our yard. As the phone was ringing my mind drifted back to a day at least 2 weeks ago when I got the mail and noted my new debit cards.
Saturday was November 1st and my debit cards expired at the end of October 2008.
My first thought after I realized my stupidity was: if I felt that degraded, that horrible, when I KNEW I had the money in my account, how must people feel who DON’T have the money in their accounts?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
It's not REALLY about politics
I've told myself that I would keep politics off this blog. I have several reasons for that decision, but the biggest reason is that this is not a political blog so politics don't really fit here.
However, I was again struck by a local candidate's commitment to his job and to the people he represents. Representative Andy Welti is running for re-election in my district. He's a relatively young man, intelligent and personable.
You might wonder how I know that he is personable. Well, I've met him and talked with him several times over the last several years. He stops by our house at least once every year, usually in the summer time. He stands with Craig and I and asks us what we are concerned about and what matters to us. He wonders if early childhood education continues to be important to us.
Yes, I realize he looks at his notes before he comes to our door. That's beside the point.
The point is, he comes to our door. He takes notes. He listens to us without seeming to be in a hurry to get on to the next house.
Yesterday afternoon the telephone rang and the caller ID announced it was "Welti, Andy" on the line. Normally I just hang up on those political calls because it's just a recording most of the time. Not so with Mr. Welti. It was him on the line, asking if I'd come any closer to making my decision on who I was voting for next week.
When he visited our home this summer I was perhaps more vague than I should have been. He asked then if I'd made a decision who I was voting for and I said I wasn't quite sure. So he'd noted that and was making a follow-up call.
He has now earned (confirmed?) my vote because I don't know that I've ever met or spoken to his opponent. But that's not the only reason I'm voting again for Mr. Welti. I'm voting for him because he seems to genuinely care about his job and the people in his district. (And it doesn't hurt that he supports things that are important to me.)
I'd guess there aren't many politicians out there that do as much to connect with their constituents as he does.
However, I was again struck by a local candidate's commitment to his job and to the people he represents. Representative Andy Welti is running for re-election in my district. He's a relatively young man, intelligent and personable.
You might wonder how I know that he is personable. Well, I've met him and talked with him several times over the last several years. He stops by our house at least once every year, usually in the summer time. He stands with Craig and I and asks us what we are concerned about and what matters to us. He wonders if early childhood education continues to be important to us.
Yes, I realize he looks at his notes before he comes to our door. That's beside the point.
The point is, he comes to our door. He takes notes. He listens to us without seeming to be in a hurry to get on to the next house.
Yesterday afternoon the telephone rang and the caller ID announced it was "Welti, Andy" on the line. Normally I just hang up on those political calls because it's just a recording most of the time. Not so with Mr. Welti. It was him on the line, asking if I'd come any closer to making my decision on who I was voting for next week.
When he visited our home this summer I was perhaps more vague than I should have been. He asked then if I'd made a decision who I was voting for and I said I wasn't quite sure. So he'd noted that and was making a follow-up call.
He has now earned (confirmed?) my vote because I don't know that I've ever met or spoken to his opponent. But that's not the only reason I'm voting again for Mr. Welti. I'm voting for him because he seems to genuinely care about his job and the people in his district. (And it doesn't hurt that he supports things that are important to me.)
I'd guess there aren't many politicians out there that do as much to connect with their constituents as he does.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Snack time
So I had big plans. Just ten minutes ago I tweeted that I was going to eat some ice cream, start making a tutu and watch the Olympics.
It was a good plan, and a tasty one too, but instead of simply getting my ice cream and sitting down to eat it, my plan went awry.
First, I wandered out to the kitchen where a half-unwrapped Reese's peanut butter cup sat on the counter, taunting me. I've avoided peanut butter and tree nuts throughout my pregnancies and when I'm nursing, so, although I love peanut butter cups I try to resist the temptation.
This cup was mocking me though. Ha ha Heather. Here I sit. Remember earlier in the night when you tried to offer me as dessert and the kids said no they don't like me? Yeah, you want me don't you? Yeah baby.
So I thought what the hell? One won't hurt me or D. It's not really peanut butter in those things anyway is it?
No matter.
Damned if that sucker didn't shoot right out of my hand and roll on the cat-hair-infested floor. Even I'm not desperate enough to eat a hair-covered peanut butter cup. With a heavy heart, I threw the object of my desire and disappointment into the trash can.
Ah well, I was in the kitchen to get that ice cream anyway.
Triple Chocolate ice cream by Breyers, to be exact. Just picked up a fresh pint this morning since I killed the first one last night. I'd hate to lose too much weight and be healthy you know.
I pried the lid loose and grabbed the scoop from the dish drainer. Three stripes of chocolaty goodness awaited me, white on the left, dark chocolate in the middle and chocolate chocolate on the right. I tell you about the stripes and the colors because it needs to be said that I like to leave my favorite taste last. In this case, that would be the dark chocolate. So, I need to scoop and plan my bowl properly so that I can end my frozen treat on the right note.
I plunged the scoop into the hard ice cream. It kept going. The ice cream bounced out of the container and did a swan-dive to the floor.
Shit.
I won't lie. I looked at the giant scoop of dark chocolate ice cream to assess whether it could still be eaten. Alas, ice cream fares even less well than peanut butter cups. The dust bunnies clinging to MY ice cream were enjoying a tasty treat.
With a sigh, I threw the tainted ice cream into the sink. Dark chocolate down the drain. Literally. What a waste.
Spirit damaged, but not totally broken I forged ahead. I was going to get my ice cream.
Scoop. Plunge. Ice Cream. Dive.
WTF? AGAIN?
I'm beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with this tub of ice cream and God is trying to save me from myself. Oh well, if He is, He's going to have to do more than that.
It was a good plan, and a tasty one too, but instead of simply getting my ice cream and sitting down to eat it, my plan went awry.
First, I wandered out to the kitchen where a half-unwrapped Reese's peanut butter cup sat on the counter, taunting me. I've avoided peanut butter and tree nuts throughout my pregnancies and when I'm nursing, so, although I love peanut butter cups I try to resist the temptation.
This cup was mocking me though. Ha ha Heather. Here I sit. Remember earlier in the night when you tried to offer me as dessert and the kids said no they don't like me? Yeah, you want me don't you? Yeah baby.
So I thought what the hell? One won't hurt me or D. It's not really peanut butter in those things anyway is it?
No matter.
Damned if that sucker didn't shoot right out of my hand and roll on the cat-hair-infested floor. Even I'm not desperate enough to eat a hair-covered peanut butter cup. With a heavy heart, I threw the object of my desire and disappointment into the trash can.
Ah well, I was in the kitchen to get that ice cream anyway.
Triple Chocolate ice cream by Breyers, to be exact. Just picked up a fresh pint this morning since I killed the first one last night. I'd hate to lose too much weight and be healthy you know.
I pried the lid loose and grabbed the scoop from the dish drainer. Three stripes of chocolaty goodness awaited me, white on the left, dark chocolate in the middle and chocolate chocolate on the right. I tell you about the stripes and the colors because it needs to be said that I like to leave my favorite taste last. In this case, that would be the dark chocolate. So, I need to scoop and plan my bowl properly so that I can end my frozen treat on the right note.
I plunged the scoop into the hard ice cream. It kept going. The ice cream bounced out of the container and did a swan-dive to the floor.
Shit.
I won't lie. I looked at the giant scoop of dark chocolate ice cream to assess whether it could still be eaten. Alas, ice cream fares even less well than peanut butter cups. The dust bunnies clinging to MY ice cream were enjoying a tasty treat.
With a sigh, I threw the tainted ice cream into the sink. Dark chocolate down the drain. Literally. What a waste.
Spirit damaged, but not totally broken I forged ahead. I was going to get my ice cream.
Scoop. Plunge. Ice Cream. Dive.
WTF? AGAIN?
I'm beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with this tub of ice cream and God is trying to save me from myself. Oh well, if He is, He's going to have to do more than that.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
blocked
I have several ideas for posts that I want to write, but no time to write them.
Scratch that.
When I do have the time to write them, I either can't get the words from my head to the screen, or I just plain don't feel like writing.
I went to the first PTA meeting of the year tonight. It was a waste of time and now my baby is fussy and STILL. NOT. SLEEPING.
My mom, Aunt Sue and Cousin Chelsea are heading to NY tomorrow. I'm a little jealous, but they don't have my kids so I guess we're probably even on the luckiness scale.
Scratch that.
I'm waaaay ahead.
Anywho.
Ask me some questions so I can get over this writer's block. Ask me anything.
Scratch that.
When I do have the time to write them, I either can't get the words from my head to the screen, or I just plain don't feel like writing.
I went to the first PTA meeting of the year tonight. It was a waste of time and now my baby is fussy and STILL. NOT. SLEEPING.
My mom, Aunt Sue and Cousin Chelsea are heading to NY tomorrow. I'm a little jealous, but they don't have my kids so I guess we're probably even on the luckiness scale.
Scratch that.
I'm waaaay ahead.
Anywho.
Ask me some questions so I can get over this writer's block. Ask me anything.
Friday, July 18, 2008
I got nuthin
So I realized I haven't blogged since Tuesday. Lately, that's a pretty long stretch with no posts for me. What have I been doing? Uh. Well.
I wish I could say that I've cleaned my house and put all my junk away.
I wish I could say that I've completed all preparations for the kids' birthday party next weekend.
Nope. Didn't happen.
I did go to IKEA in Minneapolis with my mom and all three kids. It went better than I expected and I didn't even have the urge to sell one of the kids while we were there.
I also went clothes shopping with my mom and bought some clothes for myself. Now I won't have to attend D's baptism in the nude. I'd guess our pastor would have frowned upon that. I got not one, but three shirts and two pairs of Capri pants. I told my mom that since I bought some new clothes that will probably make me lose a bunch of weight so that they don't fit anymore.
Not that it would be a bad thing.
Today, I took the kids to a local (small) zoo. We met my parents, who were babysitting my 2 nephews, there, along with 3 other friends and their children. That went okay other than the fact that both of my older children ran across a road without any grown ups with them. They did, however, stop and look both ways before charging across. We also took a picnic lunch and ate there. Apparently so did the mosquitoes as my ankles and wrists are bitten up.
I have several blog posts in my head that I want to get written but they're not coming out of my fingertips. The posts usually start getting written in my head when I'm trying to sleep. Did you know that I have an almost-two-month-old? Yeah, I should be sleeping, not writing blog posts in my bed.
I have 1,839,472 things to do to prepare for this birthday party but I'm not getting that done either. Well, not tonight I guess. There's tomorrow. And Sunday.
We unearthed the battery baby swing a couple of days ago and D had her inaugural swing. She seems to enjoy it. I think. Either that or she's thinking WTF is this thing they've got me in now? Possibly both. Speaking of sleeping and swinging...that's what D is currently doing.
I'm thinking about getting this stroller. Thoughts? I don't jog, but I thought the bigger wheels would be good for taking the stroller (and therefore, the baby) on all terrains. (grass)
Also, I'm starting to get bummed about my etsy store. I haven't sold anything in more than two months besides a few cards to some of my relatives (thank you!). I know the economy is in the toilet, but sheesh, my cards cost less than a Hallmark card and they're unique--not mass-produced! Oh well. I'll keep it open for a little while longer and see what happens I guess.
According to the doctor (at my post-partum visit this week) I am 7 pounds under my pre-preggo weight. I'm still fat, mind you, but hey it's something. I guess if I quit eating all those cookies and gigantic bowls of ice cream I'd probably lose more.
So that's it. My nuthin' post because that's all I can come up with right now. The next one will be better. I think.
Or, I'll just put up a photo of my kids.
I wish I could say that I've cleaned my house and put all my junk away.
I wish I could say that I've completed all preparations for the kids' birthday party next weekend.
Nope. Didn't happen.
I did go to IKEA in Minneapolis with my mom and all three kids. It went better than I expected and I didn't even have the urge to sell one of the kids while we were there.
I also went clothes shopping with my mom and bought some clothes for myself. Now I won't have to attend D's baptism in the nude. I'd guess our pastor would have frowned upon that. I got not one, but three shirts and two pairs of Capri pants. I told my mom that since I bought some new clothes that will probably make me lose a bunch of weight so that they don't fit anymore.
Not that it would be a bad thing.
Today, I took the kids to a local (small) zoo. We met my parents, who were babysitting my 2 nephews, there, along with 3 other friends and their children. That went okay other than the fact that both of my older children ran across a road without any grown ups with them. They did, however, stop and look both ways before charging across. We also took a picnic lunch and ate there. Apparently so did the mosquitoes as my ankles and wrists are bitten up.
I have several blog posts in my head that I want to get written but they're not coming out of my fingertips. The posts usually start getting written in my head when I'm trying to sleep. Did you know that I have an almost-two-month-old? Yeah, I should be sleeping, not writing blog posts in my bed.
I have 1,839,472 things to do to prepare for this birthday party but I'm not getting that done either. Well, not tonight I guess. There's tomorrow. And Sunday.
We unearthed the battery baby swing a couple of days ago and D had her inaugural swing. She seems to enjoy it. I think. Either that or she's thinking WTF is this thing they've got me in now? Possibly both. Speaking of sleeping and swinging...that's what D is currently doing.
I'm thinking about getting this stroller. Thoughts? I don't jog, but I thought the bigger wheels would be good for taking the stroller (and therefore, the baby) on all terrains. (grass)
Also, I'm starting to get bummed about my etsy store. I haven't sold anything in more than two months besides a few cards to some of my relatives (thank you!). I know the economy is in the toilet, but sheesh, my cards cost less than a Hallmark card and they're unique--not mass-produced! Oh well. I'll keep it open for a little while longer and see what happens I guess.
According to the doctor (at my post-partum visit this week) I am 7 pounds under my pre-preggo weight. I'm still fat, mind you, but hey it's something. I guess if I quit eating all those cookies and gigantic bowls of ice cream I'd probably lose more.
So that's it. My nuthin' post because that's all I can come up with right now. The next one will be better. I think.
Or, I'll just put up a photo of my kids.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.
***Updated with all the answers!***
I'm a sucker for an older, cheesy movie...especially if it has some great quotes. I also enjoy the blog posts that let me play a sort of trivia game. So I thought I'd combine the two.
Name that movie. No fair using the Internet to look them all up.
I'll update this post with the first person who IDs each movie correctly and link to their blog if they have one!
Have fun!
1. Well, which is it young feller? You want I should freeze or get down on the ground? Cuz if’n I freeze, I can’t rightly drop, and if’n I drop, I’m-a gonna be in motion.
Raising Arizona correctly identified by Chelsea.
2. Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you.
Dirty Dancing correctly identified by ShannonRenee.
3. I wanted to ask you if you're free after school today.
Yeah. I'm free every day. It's in the Constitution.
Grease 2
4. My, my, it's hot. But thank God it's not sticky. I just hate it when it's sticky. Listen to silly me. A sticky desert. That's as foolish as a... an intelligent woman. How ridiculous. What nonsense. God, I miss Tara.
My Chauffeur
5. There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.
Reality Bites correctly identified by domestic accident.
6. Did you sleep with him?
No, Dan. We were bowling partners.
About Last Night...correctly identified by Kristi (via email).
7. Drinking and driving don’t mix. That’s why I ride a bike.
Pretty in Pink correctly identified by ewe are here.
8. With a flaccid penis, it's the number of folds that count. Besides, I'm not semi-erect like some of you guys here.
Lucas
9. I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.
Say Anything correctly identified by leigh.
10. I'm sure I don't do anything you would find exciting. I don't open beer bottles with my toes, I don't sit around and count what's left of my teeth, hey, I don't even enjoy a good tractor pull.
The Cutting Edge
11. First of all Rat, you never let on how much you like a girl. "Oh, Debbie. Hi." Two, you always call the shots. "Kiss me. You won't regret it." Now three, act like wherever you are, that's the place to be. "Isn't this great?" Four, when ordering food, you find out what she wants, then order for the both of you. It's a classy move. "Now, the lady will have the linguine and white clam sauce, and a Coke with no ice." And five, now this is the most important, Rat. When it comes down to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV.
Fast Times At Ridgemont High correctly identified by ShannonRenee.
12. Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.
The Breakfast Club correctly identified by ShannonRenee.
13. What, you don't like rice? Tell me Michael, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong?
The Lost Boys
14. I really love Rudy. He is totally enamored of me. I mean, I've had other men love me before, but not for six months in a row.
Sixteen Candles correctly identified by Chelsea.
15. You think you could break a log like that?
Don't know. Never been attacked by a tree.
The Karate Kid 2
16. Well, you’re all I think about.
Me?
And I think the reason I'm not interested in other women, and why I haven't had sex in so long, is because I'm desperately, completely in love with you.
St. Elmo's Fire
17. You all right there, Margie?
Oh, I just think I'm gonna barf...
Fargo correctly identified by Chelsea.
18. Sorry folks, park's closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.
National Lampoon's Vacation correctly identified by ShannonRenee.
19. Remember Danny - Two wrongs don't make a right but three rights make a left.
Caddyshack correctly identified by leigh.
20. Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam... And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...So tweasure your wuv.
The Princess Bride correctly identified by ShannonRenee.
I have to say I KNEW Sandy would know that the title of the post was from Better Off Dead.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Holy Blog Posts Batman!
Just checked my feed reader (probably a mistake). It sits at 148 posts to read. Think that will take some time when I get home?
I'm going to assume I won't be doing much commenting on the posts. Sorry about that. It doesn't mean I don't love you or love what you have to say. It just means I have 148 plus posts to read.
Yikes!
I'm going to assume I won't be doing much commenting on the posts. Sorry about that. It doesn't mean I don't love you or love what you have to say. It just means I have 148 plus posts to read.
Yikes!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Two Years
I've now been blogging for 2 years.
Thanks to those who read, and those who comment...and those who do both!
Thanks to those who read, and those who comment...and those who do both!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
I'm losing steam
This NaBloPoMo is starting to kick my butt. Seriously, it's hard to come up with something to write every single day, especially when you're used to posting only 3 or 4 times a week at the most.
So today I helped "teach" Sunday School. In reality this means that I am just another body in the room. Last year I ended up having to come up with the lesson on the spot and do everything. This year, not so much. I took a little girl to the bathroom. That was my big contribution today.
M and I went to a couple of stores. No matter how many groceries I get I always arrive home to discover that we needed at least 3 more things. M saw Santa at Wal-Mart and had her (free) picture taken with him. She was thrilled. Then tonight she tells me that she asked Santa for a remote controlled car. WHAT? Where was THAT on the list? I told her that I was pretty sure that Santa goes by what he gets in the letter.
We used some gift cards for Outback Steakhouse for supper tonight. Carside-to-go. Mmmm. Crab legs. If I lost weight again today it definitely wasn't because I was eating low-cal food.
Craig started getting out the Christmas decorations. So the Christmas season officially begins...
So today I helped "teach" Sunday School. In reality this means that I am just another body in the room. Last year I ended up having to come up with the lesson on the spot and do everything. This year, not so much. I took a little girl to the bathroom. That was my big contribution today.
M and I went to a couple of stores. No matter how many groceries I get I always arrive home to discover that we needed at least 3 more things. M saw Santa at Wal-Mart and had her (free) picture taken with him. She was thrilled. Then tonight she tells me that she asked Santa for a remote controlled car. WHAT? Where was THAT on the list? I told her that I was pretty sure that Santa goes by what he gets in the letter.
We used some gift cards for Outback Steakhouse for supper tonight. Carside-to-go. Mmmm. Crab legs. If I lost weight again today it definitely wasn't because I was eating low-cal food.
Craig started getting out the Christmas decorations. So the Christmas season officially begins...
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving
This is officially my lame-o blog post for the NaBloPoMo. Happy Thanksgiving and that is all.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Why blog?
I started this blog about a year and a half ago on a whim after reading one blog post on a blog that wasn’t even very interesting to me. Although my blog isn’t really considered new anymore, I’m still trying to build my following.
I’ve enjoyed writing since I was a kid. I started a diary in elementary school after reading The Diary of Anne Frank and found writing my thoughts helped me navigate the world with a better sense of myself. By junior high, as it was called back then, I’d moved on to writing a book. By the time I’d grown tired of that story I’d filled a 70-page spiral notebook with teen angst and drama… and much fantasy. Hey, a girl could dream that Corey Haim was her boyfriend, right?
My diaries moved into journal writing as I got older and no longer had the time or inclination to devote to writing daily, or even weekly.
At the point that I stumbled upon the blogosphere I’d not been writing for some time. Kids were taking up my time and that was how I wanted to spend my time. But I missed writing. I missed sharing my writing.
So this blog world appealed to me. I could write and get feedback at the same time. I found that blogging made me want to write other things. The idea for a novel is floating in my head. I have a rough outline. I have some passages written.
Writing on my blog may not be profound literary genius, but it is sparking something.
Today, I blog because I still enjoy writing. I blog because I want to remember the things my kids said and did when they were young. I want to remember me.
My family and friends are getting to see the real me, not just the daughter, the wife, the niece, the friend. My blog reminds me that I'm an interesting person, not JUST a mom.
I’m learning through making blogger friends that there are women going through the same things as I am – all over the world. Some women are brave enough to write about things I never could, but I read and silently thank them for their honesty.
This parenting gig is wonderful and difficult. Sometimes just reading that someone understands makes it easier to do it all again tomorrow.
I’ve enjoyed writing since I was a kid. I started a diary in elementary school after reading The Diary of Anne Frank and found writing my thoughts helped me navigate the world with a better sense of myself. By junior high, as it was called back then, I’d moved on to writing a book. By the time I’d grown tired of that story I’d filled a 70-page spiral notebook with teen angst and drama… and much fantasy. Hey, a girl could dream that Corey Haim was her boyfriend, right?
My diaries moved into journal writing as I got older and no longer had the time or inclination to devote to writing daily, or even weekly.
At the point that I stumbled upon the blogosphere I’d not been writing for some time. Kids were taking up my time and that was how I wanted to spend my time. But I missed writing. I missed sharing my writing.
So this blog world appealed to me. I could write and get feedback at the same time. I found that blogging made me want to write other things. The idea for a novel is floating in my head. I have a rough outline. I have some passages written.
Writing on my blog may not be profound literary genius, but it is sparking something.
Today, I blog because I still enjoy writing. I blog because I want to remember the things my kids said and did when they were young. I want to remember me.
My family and friends are getting to see the real me, not just the daughter, the wife, the niece, the friend. My blog reminds me that I'm an interesting person, not JUST a mom.
I’m learning through making blogger friends that there are women going through the same things as I am – all over the world. Some women are brave enough to write about things I never could, but I read and silently thank them for their honesty.
This parenting gig is wonderful and difficult. Sometimes just reading that someone understands makes it easier to do it all again tomorrow.
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