Bug as he is walking into another room and shutting the door: Mama, I know you have no voice today (I seem to have strained my voice with all the singing and hard praying we have done this weekend) so I will say prayers by myself today, otay?
Me: Yes
Bug: What?
Me: Yes!
Bug: Mama, I can't hear you. You need to talk louder...
Sigh
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thoughts
It's a hard day today and I am not going to pretend that it isn't. Today Rush moved in with my mom and step-dad in a town an hour and half away. Things weren't didn't work out quite the way she wanted or hoped at her sister's house (an hour and a half the other direction) and so, Rush is moving into, yet another person's house.
I had hoped that when this happened that she would realize she belonged here. I had hoped that she would find her way home again. I had hoped for my girl back. But, for now, that hope has not been realized. For now.
I still have that hope.
I can't lie and say that it doesn't hurt my heart or that I haven't had to fight from crying at work all day or that once home, the tears erupted and have yet to quit. I can't lie and say that I don't feel slightly jealous of other people I know whose daughters have returned to them (even though the biggest part of me is reoicing for them, part of me wonders 'why can't that be me and my daughter').
So yes, there is pain.
I had hoped that when this happened that she would realize she belonged here. I had hoped that she would find her way home again. I had hoped for my girl back. But, for now, that hope has not been realized. For now.
I still have that hope.
I can't lie and say that it doesn't hurt my heart or that I haven't had to fight from crying at work all day or that once home, the tears erupted and have yet to quit. I can't lie and say that I don't feel slightly jealous of other people I know whose daughters have returned to them (even though the biggest part of me is reoicing for them, part of me wonders 'why can't that be me and my daughter').
So yes, there is pain.
Perhaps she will never again live in my house; that is not for me to know right now.
Not what I planned
I had so many notions of what my life would be like.
I always wanted to be a mom. That part came true.
I never wanted a relationship that was so volatile, controlling and hurtful.
I wanted a fulfilling career, to travel, to explore, to adventure....
I never dreamt I'd be belittled and manipulated and so much more.
I just wish I could find strength.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Perspective
My kids have a very good (kid) reason to be disappointed today, but they are not and it amazes me as to why they are not. You see, today was a "reward day" at school and the kids were going to a nearby town to go to their wave pool for the day. Everyone was piled into their designated vans and about to leave the school when they got a call that the heater at the pool was broken and the water was in the minus temperatures - trip postponed until Monday.
I thought they would be devestated, especially Bug (being only 6 years old and all, that can be a pretty big let down). I should have more faith in my children. Here is what he said about the whole thing.
"Mama, our trip to de pool was 'tancelled'. We're not goin' now 'til Monday."
"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy."
"Oh Mama, dat's 'otay'. Dat just means I have more days t'be excited for it comin'."
Perspective. Some days I could really use some fresh perspective like that. Some days I get down. Down because we seem to be struggling with our finances - even though we are way better off than we were; we just don't have the credit cards to make it seem like we are doing better than we really are. We have two small debts to pay off and that is it. I need to have some fresh perspective...
You know, look to my 6 year old as an example in this because he is clearly more learned than I in this department. {Grin} I don't know about you but I am not too proud to learn from my children. I am not too proud to be taught by those who understand something better than I - even if they happen to be the cutest 6 year old boy I know! I think that would read more appropriately if I say 'especially' and not 'even'.
I have learned quite a few lessons from my children the last little while. From Bug's viewpoint today to Jellybean giving up her just-over-$100-savings in order to buy a car window and to be honest, the list is much bigger than that.
What have your children taught you?
I thought they would be devestated, especially Bug (being only 6 years old and all, that can be a pretty big let down). I should have more faith in my children. Here is what he said about the whole thing.
"Mama, our trip to de pool was 'tancelled'. We're not goin' now 'til Monday."
"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy."
"Oh Mama, dat's 'otay'. Dat just means I have more days t'be excited for it comin'."
Perspective. Some days I could really use some fresh perspective like that. Some days I get down. Down because we seem to be struggling with our finances - even though we are way better off than we were; we just don't have the credit cards to make it seem like we are doing better than we really are. We have two small debts to pay off and that is it. I need to have some fresh perspective...
You know, look to my 6 year old as an example in this because he is clearly more learned than I in this department. {Grin} I don't know about you but I am not too proud to learn from my children. I am not too proud to be taught by those who understand something better than I - even if they happen to be the cutest 6 year old boy I know! I think that would read more appropriately if I say 'especially' and not 'even'.
I have learned quite a few lessons from my children the last little while. From Bug's viewpoint today to Jellybean giving up her just-over-$100-savings in order to buy a car window and to be honest, the list is much bigger than that.
What have your children taught you?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
And I will lay out
before you
the clothes I am planning to wear, just as I am planning to wear them.
(Yes, my son's room is messy. No, that is not a one time thing. Yes, he did plan to wear mismatched socks. No, I didn't make him find a matching pair; I was just happy he planned to wear socks.)
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friend Makin' Monday
Found this while blog hopping and thought I would join in; everyone loves making new friends, right? So pop on by Amber's site to see all about Friend Makin' Monday and you just have to finish answering these sentences...
Outside my window... I see cars piled high with the freshly fallen snow, streets filled with snow ruts high enough to get most vehicles stuck and still waiting to be plowed.
I am thinking... that I should be recopying my church sermon notes in good copy instead of being on here blogging.
I am thankful... for my family, friends, church family and mostly, my God.
I am praying... for complete restoration in my family and that my daughter, who ran away from home, who is planning on moving in with my mother the end of this month (and having second thoughts) will know that she can move back home and is always welcome here.
I am reading... The Bait of Satan by John Bevere.
I am creating... beautiful photographs for the website our church is creating.
From the kitchen... I hear the dishwasher finishing up.
Around the house... I know I have laundry I should be doing.
One of my favorite things... is snuggling with my children.
Outside my window... I see cars piled high with the freshly fallen snow, streets filled with snow ruts high enough to get most vehicles stuck and still waiting to be plowed.
I am thinking... that I should be recopying my church sermon notes in good copy instead of being on here blogging.
I am thankful... for my family, friends, church family and mostly, my God.
I am praying... for complete restoration in my family and that my daughter, who ran away from home, who is planning on moving in with my mother the end of this month (and having second thoughts) will know that she can move back home and is always welcome here.
I am reading... The Bait of Satan by John Bevere.
I am creating... beautiful photographs for the website our church is creating.
From the kitchen... I hear the dishwasher finishing up.
Around the house... I know I have laundry I should be doing.
One of my favorite things... is snuggling with my children.
Suffering Succotash...
but that sure is hard to say when
you have lost your two front teeth in a matter of days.
Not Me Monday
Are you guilty of closing bedroom doors when company comes to visit? Feeling extreme waves of guilt because you burnt your supper blogging instead of cooking? Well, don't. McMama has come up with a solution to our guilt. Check out this week's Not Me Monday to see what we all have NOT done and, perhaps join in yourself; it's a lot of fu-un!
It was NOT my daughter who came to me on Saturday morning thinking that the lizard, Mr. Fred was really NOT in his terrarium. It was then NOT me who looked under his rocks, looked inside his log, shook the log, and shook the plant to try to find Mr. Fred. Mr. Fred was really NOT FOUND!
It was definitely NOT me who began have convulsions of grossed out prportions because that thing was allegedly walking around my house - possibly crawling on my walls or on the ceiling because, yes, he can do that!
I did not have to leave the house before said killer reptile could be located and it did NOT come up in my conversation several times that day. My friends definitely did NOT decide that they were not coming to my house EVER until this reptilian friend had been located - dead or alive.
This is not my lizard finding gear; I am not more terrified of a 4 inch lizard than I ever was to fight a 6'6" biker; my husband does not get that. No, he really is baffled by the whole thing. (And yes, I did take on a 6'6" biker. He got in my way. Ok, ok! I ran into him and it was totally not his fault. Poor guy never saw it coming.) Just look at those crazy eyes; I was totally prepared to use that weapon too! {Grin}
We did NOT come home to find Mr. Fred right where he belongs - he's a great hider!
It snowed here this weekend. A LOT! Twice the amount it has snowed here all winter. I did NOT get stuck. My husband did NOT get stuck. Half our chuch congregation did NOT get stuck.
I did NOT go out in public looking like this.
And I most certainly did NOT go get a few groceries (so we could entertain guests later that night) looking like this.
Now, it is your turn. What are you not willing to take credit for?
Happy Not Meing and Happy Monday!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Getting to know you...Getting to know all about you...
Ok, ok...I am done singing - for now. I can't promise I won't break into song in a bit but for now you have respite.
Anywho, wasn't there a point to this? Oh yeah! Getting to know you! Now I remember!
Keely over at MannLand5 has her Sunday getting to know you meme again and I am here to get to know me. No! You are here getting to know me a little bit more as I answer her questions. Maybe I will get to know myself a bit better; I ave yet to see what the questions are.
So, here we go...
The questions... and some answers too. {grin}
1. Waffles, pancakes or french toast?
Do I have to choose? Really? That's just cruel! i like me some food. The hips don't lie, baby; the hips don't lie!
2. Dream home..What would it look like?
I don't know what it would look like but it would have the following features: a nice sized bedroom each for the kids, a nice sized master bedroom, 2 (or 2 1/2) baths, an office space for my husband and an office space for myself, a huge kitchen and dining room to entertain family and lots of close friends, and a huge living room/family room for the same reason. It will also have a nice sized back yard for summer entertaining!
3. Favorite sport to watch during the Winter Olympics?
If I were to be honest, hockey but I am not allowed to watch sports. Apparently it makes me a bad steward of my time.
4. The first word that comes to mind when describing yourself?
Quirky
5. Dresses, pants (jeans, leggings, etc.) or skirts?
Pants. Oh sweet pants. I am a jeans girl however I also like to be dressed up in a nice pair of dress pants looking all classy. I will wear skirts and dresses but they aren't my first choice. In fact, when I was 5 and was getting ready to go to my cousin's wedding, my mom was putting me in a dress and I actually believed she was trying to kill me. Oh no, my friends, not even exaggerating. Seriously thought the woman wanted me dead. Why else would she put me in the torture device from Hell...?
6. What is your favorite time of day?
Depends on the day. I love any time of day if I am spending time with my children or other such family/friends
7. Beach or Mountains..which do you prefer?
I have never been to the mountains so I can't fairly judge my preference. I do, however, know that I love me some beach!
8.Will you watch the Super Bowl?
No. I don't have tv. Only watch a few shows via internet and I just don't think I will be home. I would be allowed to anyway
Now it's your turn. Tell me about yourself.
Anywho, wasn't there a point to this? Oh yeah! Getting to know you! Now I remember!
Keely over at MannLand5 has her Sunday getting to know you meme again and I am here to get to know me. No! You are here getting to know me a little bit more as I answer her questions. Maybe I will get to know myself a bit better; I ave yet to see what the questions are.
So, here we go...
The questions... and some answers too. {grin}
1. Waffles, pancakes or french toast?
Do I have to choose? Really? That's just cruel! i like me some food. The hips don't lie, baby; the hips don't lie!
2. Dream home..What would it look like?
I don't know what it would look like but it would have the following features: a nice sized bedroom each for the kids, a nice sized master bedroom, 2 (or 2 1/2) baths, an office space for my husband and an office space for myself, a huge kitchen and dining room to entertain family and lots of close friends, and a huge living room/family room for the same reason. It will also have a nice sized back yard for summer entertaining!
3. Favorite sport to watch during the Winter Olympics?
If I were to be honest, hockey but I am not allowed to watch sports. Apparently it makes me a bad steward of my time.
4. The first word that comes to mind when describing yourself?
Quirky
5. Dresses, pants (jeans, leggings, etc.) or skirts?
Pants. Oh sweet pants. I am a jeans girl however I also like to be dressed up in a nice pair of dress pants looking all classy. I will wear skirts and dresses but they aren't my first choice. In fact, when I was 5 and was getting ready to go to my cousin's wedding, my mom was putting me in a dress and I actually believed she was trying to kill me. Oh no, my friends, not even exaggerating. Seriously thought the woman wanted me dead. Why else would she put me in the torture device from Hell...?
6. What is your favorite time of day?
Depends on the day. I love any time of day if I am spending time with my children or other such family/friends
7. Beach or Mountains..which do you prefer?
I have never been to the mountains so I can't fairly judge my preference. I do, however, know that I love me some beach!
8.Will you watch the Super Bowl?
No. I don't have tv. Only watch a few shows via internet and I just don't think I will be home. I would be allowed to anyway
Now it's your turn. Tell me about yourself.
Change of Plans
Had a busy but great day today...
and none of it was what I had planned on doing...not one little thing.
More on that possibly tomorrow. As for now, I am going to bed. 'Night my friends.
and none of it was what I had planned on doing...not one little thing.
More on that possibly tomorrow. As for now, I am going to bed. 'Night my friends.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Five Question Friday
All ready? Wow! This week has gone by uber fast.
So. Here's the deets. MamaM has this fun little meme going - sort of a "get to know you" through fun questions.
All right! Let's do this!
1. What is better, growing old with out money or dying young and wealthy?
Better? My better choice is not an option here. I plan on dying old with money but I'm still in the planning stages for that. So...to answer the question, I definitely say old with no money. I plan on living a long, fulfilling life making priceless memories with my family and friends.
2. Who takes out the garbage at your house?
Jellybean. It's part of her chores.
3. Have you ever had the same dream many times?
Yes, when I was a kid I had a recurring nightmare. I would even carry on with the dream right where I left off after I went back to sleep. It was of these half bear half wolf type creatures that would chase us and as we ran the earth would fall away under our feet. We were quickly running out of places to run but these creatures could run on the air. Weird huh?
4. Can you play a musical instrument?
I sort of play the drums. I can do a basic rock beat and a killer drum roll...lol!
In high school I played the clarinet, started off with the flute - could play it but didn't like it. I sort of sing...not really well but ok enough. Does that count? I play the spoons LOL and I play the stereo.
5. If you owned your own store, what would you sell?
I don't know. My 9 year old daughter has plans for a bakery; she has a name and every thing. More ambition than I, I tell ya.
Hmm...what would I sell. Pets? No because then I would have to sell tarantulas and all that creepy stuff. O but the bunnies & kittens & puppies... {sigh}
Maybe and old fashioned ice cream shoppe... yeah and then I would weigh 872 lbs.
I don't know... I give up. What would I sell in my shop? You tell me.
So. Here's the deets. MamaM has this fun little meme going - sort of a "get to know you" through fun questions.
All right! Let's do this!
1. What is better, growing old with out money or dying young and wealthy?
Better? My better choice is not an option here. I plan on dying old with money but I'm still in the planning stages for that. So...to answer the question, I definitely say old with no money. I plan on living a long, fulfilling life making priceless memories with my family and friends.
2. Who takes out the garbage at your house?
Jellybean. It's part of her chores.
3. Have you ever had the same dream many times?
Yes, when I was a kid I had a recurring nightmare. I would even carry on with the dream right where I left off after I went back to sleep. It was of these half bear half wolf type creatures that would chase us and as we ran the earth would fall away under our feet. We were quickly running out of places to run but these creatures could run on the air. Weird huh?
4. Can you play a musical instrument?
I sort of play the drums. I can do a basic rock beat and a killer drum roll...lol!
In high school I played the clarinet, started off with the flute - could play it but didn't like it. I sort of sing...not really well but ok enough. Does that count? I play the spoons LOL and I play the stereo.
5. If you owned your own store, what would you sell?
I don't know. My 9 year old daughter has plans for a bakery; she has a name and every thing. More ambition than I, I tell ya.
Hmm...what would I sell. Pets? No because then I would have to sell tarantulas and all that creepy stuff. O but the bunnies & kittens & puppies... {sigh}
Maybe and old fashioned ice cream shoppe... yeah and then I would weigh 872 lbs.
I don't know... I give up. What would I sell in my shop? You tell me.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Once Upon a Time
I don't know about you but I LOVE to make up stories to tell my children. I have done it since Rush was born; they have been dubbed "Mommy made up stories". {Creative, I know.} Over the years there have been loving ones, silly ones, truthful ones, growing up ones, sports one, princess ones, ballet ones, fantasty ones and they are never the same because I have never, ever thought to write them out for the kids. (that would probably be a lot of writing since I make up individual stories made to suit each child but I wish I would have done it for them; it would have been a nice memory for them and me.)
Tonight's story for Bug was one, though, that I thought you guys may get a chuckle at as well. So, here you go.
Once upon a time there was a handsome young man named Bug. Bug happened to be very stubborn and his mommy had no idea how he came to be so stubborn - no idea. It certainly wasn't from her. She began to think about how he had become so stubborn and remembered back to a day where they were out by a pond and Bug had stopped to inspect a frog on a lilypad. His mom began to think that Bug must have gotten his stubborn streak from the frog {since there was no way he got it from her}. She told Bug that he absolutely had to go back to that frog and give him back the stubborn gift.
So Bug walked along the river, through the trees, in the midst of the wild flowers until he came to the pond. He walked so long that his legs began to get tired but since he was so stubborn, there was no way he was going to give up. Finally, Bug found the lilypad which housed a certain frog, the one whom we have been talking about in this story.
Bug crouched down, picked the frog up ever-so-gently and said, "Mr. Frog, please know that it was ever so kind of you to give me a gift but, you see, Mr Frog, my mommy has asked me to find you and give it back to you. It's not that I don't appreciate the gift but you see, sometimes it gets me in a heap of trouble and I know you didn't intend for that to happen. So, please, Mr. Frog, I ask that you would be so kind as to take it back."
The frog looked at Bug the entire time Bug spoke. Silence fell upon the pair until Mr. Frog looked off to the side and back to Bug, opened his froggy mouth and said...
..."Ribbit!"
Because we all know frogs don't speak English; they speak Frog!
Silly Bug!
The End.
Well, that was tonight's story and Bug laughed so hard he got the hiccups. I don't think I ever want to quit telling Mommy Made Up stories, especially if they bring my children this much joy...
Tonight's story for Bug was one, though, that I thought you guys may get a chuckle at as well. So, here you go.
Once upon a time there was a handsome young man named Bug. Bug happened to be very stubborn and his mommy had no idea how he came to be so stubborn - no idea. It certainly wasn't from her. She began to think about how he had become so stubborn and remembered back to a day where they were out by a pond and Bug had stopped to inspect a frog on a lilypad. His mom began to think that Bug must have gotten his stubborn streak from the frog {since there was no way he got it from her}. She told Bug that he absolutely had to go back to that frog and give him back the stubborn gift.
So Bug walked along the river, through the trees, in the midst of the wild flowers until he came to the pond. He walked so long that his legs began to get tired but since he was so stubborn, there was no way he was going to give up. Finally, Bug found the lilypad which housed a certain frog, the one whom we have been talking about in this story.
Bug crouched down, picked the frog up ever-so-gently and said, "Mr. Frog, please know that it was ever so kind of you to give me a gift but, you see, Mr Frog, my mommy has asked me to find you and give it back to you. It's not that I don't appreciate the gift but you see, sometimes it gets me in a heap of trouble and I know you didn't intend for that to happen. So, please, Mr. Frog, I ask that you would be so kind as to take it back."
The frog looked at Bug the entire time Bug spoke. Silence fell upon the pair until Mr. Frog looked off to the side and back to Bug, opened his froggy mouth and said...
..."Ribbit!"
Because we all know frogs don't speak English; they speak Frog!
Silly Bug!
The End.
Well, that was tonight's story and Bug laughed so hard he got the hiccups. I don't think I ever want to quit telling Mommy Made Up stories, especially if they bring my children this much joy...
Gone. Gone. Gone.
You've been gone so long. You've been gone, gone, gone so long...
Anyone else remember that song by Chilawak (spelling?)?
My husband was gone all last week (and by that I mean the whole work week; he does come home on weekends). Usually he is gone one week and home the next and it stinks but it is workable, managable and fathomable. This month he was gone last week, is gone this week and will be gone next week. I will do what I have to during these days and I will, for the most part, do it with a smile on my face but, can someone say "Sucks!"? It does. For so many reasons. My best friend is gone. It just isn't the same talking to him on Skype with his, usually, poor internet connection, with his mugshot freezing on the webcam every couple of minutes.
It also stinks that I am now, getting us all ready for school/work solo - you know bath giving, lunch making, hair brushing, mitten finding, agenda signing, homework helping, lizard feeding/spraying, fish feeding, reading so-lo. We get it done, and get it done fairly smoothly but it's just not the same. At the end of my shift Irace drive as effectively as I can while maintaining the speed limit to the school to pick up Bug and his friend and take them back to our house were they play for two hours before I do the switcheroo. I take K back to the school and replace him with Jellybean; get the kids back home and get a snack into them because they will surely die if they don't eat now instead of waiting the hour until supper is completely ready. I finish supper and the bath giving, bedtime story reading, tooth brush reminding, hands and face washing enforcing, feed the cat reminding, chore delegating, instrument practice instigating, mitten drying, peed bedding washing schedule begins again... solo.
It would bd nice to have help with that. I have done the whole single parent thing all ready. I had enough of that...especially since I'm married.
So, now he's gone again. We have talked to him, said our goodnights and I have taken care of almost all of the things I needed to this evening (except getting the non-dishwasher dishes done)and I have gotten our car back from the repair shop where it was getting its back window replaced. It looks lovely by the way; I never thought getting a window put in your car could make one family so happy.
Anyway, back to the original point of this post. Really, it was only going to be about a 4 sentence post.
Back to the point. Ahem
It is one thing to listen to your spouse or your children softly sleeping and/or snoring when you have "insomnia". It's totally another when the snoring you are listening to is the soft, squeaky snoring of your cat, who, by the way, is curled up on your brand new fuzzy blanket that YOU got for Christmas!
Yep, I am having a hard time with that one.
{Grin}
Anyone else remember that song by Chilawak (spelling?)?
My husband was gone all last week (and by that I mean the whole work week; he does come home on weekends). Usually he is gone one week and home the next and it stinks but it is workable, managable and fathomable. This month he was gone last week, is gone this week and will be gone next week. I will do what I have to during these days and I will, for the most part, do it with a smile on my face but, can someone say "Sucks!"? It does. For so many reasons. My best friend is gone. It just isn't the same talking to him on Skype with his, usually, poor internet connection, with his mugshot freezing on the webcam every couple of minutes.
It also stinks that I am now, getting us all ready for school/work solo - you know bath giving, lunch making, hair brushing, mitten finding, agenda signing, homework helping, lizard feeding/spraying, fish feeding, reading so-lo. We get it done, and get it done fairly smoothly but it's just not the same. At the end of my shift I
It would bd nice to have help with that. I have done the whole single parent thing all ready. I had enough of that...especially since I'm married.
So, now he's gone again. We have talked to him, said our goodnights and I have taken care of almost all of the things I needed to this evening (except getting the non-dishwasher dishes done)and I have gotten our car back from the repair shop where it was getting its back window replaced. It looks lovely by the way; I never thought getting a window put in your car could make one family so happy.
Anyway, back to the original point of this post. Really, it was only going to be about a 4 sentence post.
Back to the point. Ahem
It is one thing to listen to your spouse or your children softly sleeping and/or snoring when you have "insomnia". It's totally another when the snoring you are listening to is the soft, squeaky snoring of your cat, who, by the way, is curled up on your brand new fuzzy blanket that YOU got for Christmas!
Yep, I am having a hard time with that one.
{Grin}
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Dr. Auto Glass Repair Man
Hi, Yes, it is I, the lady whose car you have at your shop. You know, the one who was told to be home at a quarter to one to ensure I was home for you to pick up my vehicle? The one who needed to take an hour off work to be home in time for that one o'clock pick up? Yeah, that one.
Well, one o'clock came and went and there was no sign of you so I called my husband, who is working about 5 hours away right now to make sure I had the right time and to double check that I had the right day. Um, I did. You didn't show up. My husband called you at 1:15, and you said you were on your way. I am thinking that you need to get your GPS checked or replaced as I know where your shop is and I know where it is in conjunction with my house and there is no way it should take one and a half hours to get from there to here. Um, now that I mention it, it only takes 15 minutes to get from one side of this town to the other and THAT, sir is if you hit every red light along the way.
I know you don't really care but I do have a lot of things to do as a mom and there are a great many of them that involve me needing my car and that don't involve me sitting at home waiting 2 hours for you to come. I have now had to recruit my father to pick up the little boy from my house, take him to the school so he can be reunited with his mother and so he can pick up my daughter. I realize that lunch is the most important meal of the day. Oh, it's not? That would be breakfast? Then, sir, I don't understand why our one o'clock "right after lunch" appointment has been detained for so long. I certainly hope it wasn't because you had to send your steak sandwich back because it was over-done, tough and chewy, and all your little garage friends had all ready eaten and you were still waiting for yours and when it came you had to eat all by yourself while your friends stared at you because they were all done. (Excuse me while I pause to breathe after that incredibly long, run-on sentence.)
Sir, I appreciate the fact that you did eventually show up, looking like a grease monkey. (Oh wait, you kind of are, except you work with glass not oil and the like so how, pray tell, did you get that filthy?) I know my car doesn't look like much, especially with that whole back window thing happening but I am really hoping that you put down one of those seat protector paper thingys. (Don't look at me like I am stupid. You know what I mean.) This car carries very precious cargo; it carries my kids to and from school and the food I feed them from the store to my house. Please take care of it and try to keep it clean.
Oh, just so I know, the whole 5:00 ready thing? Yeah, is that still a go, since the whole 1:00 pick up thing was delayed by almost 2 hours? I would hate to pack up my kids, bother my dad for yet another ride today, get to your shop to find out that someone brought doughnuts for coffee time and your coffee order was messed up. I'd hate for that to have happened to you.
Just out of curiosity, you don't happen to be related to the cable guy or the phone man? No? Oh, no reason; just wondering.
By the way, I do appreciate you fixing my car. These Canadian winters can be tough and, while it is certainly beautiful now, I know that winter will rear its 'ooglay' head again so, having a glass barrier between it and us will be really swell.
Well, one o'clock came and went and there was no sign of you so I called my husband, who is working about 5 hours away right now to make sure I had the right time and to double check that I had the right day. Um, I did. You didn't show up. My husband called you at 1:15, and you said you were on your way. I am thinking that you need to get your GPS checked or replaced as I know where your shop is and I know where it is in conjunction with my house and there is no way it should take one and a half hours to get from there to here. Um, now that I mention it, it only takes 15 minutes to get from one side of this town to the other and THAT, sir is if you hit every red light along the way.
I know you don't really care but I do have a lot of things to do as a mom and there are a great many of them that involve me needing my car and that don't involve me sitting at home waiting 2 hours for you to come. I have now had to recruit my father to pick up the little boy from my house, take him to the school so he can be reunited with his mother and so he can pick up my daughter. I realize that lunch is the most important meal of the day. Oh, it's not? That would be breakfast? Then, sir, I don't understand why our one o'clock "right after lunch" appointment has been detained for so long. I certainly hope it wasn't because you had to send your steak sandwich back because it was over-done, tough and chewy, and all your little garage friends had all ready eaten and you were still waiting for yours and when it came you had to eat all by yourself while your friends stared at you because they were all done. (Excuse me while I pause to breathe after that incredibly long, run-on sentence.)
Sir, I appreciate the fact that you did eventually show up, looking like a grease monkey. (Oh wait, you kind of are, except you work with glass not oil and the like so how, pray tell, did you get that filthy?) I know my car doesn't look like much, especially with that whole back window thing happening but I am really hoping that you put down one of those seat protector paper thingys. (Don't look at me like I am stupid. You know what I mean.) This car carries very precious cargo; it carries my kids to and from school and the food I feed them from the store to my house. Please take care of it and try to keep it clean.
Oh, just so I know, the whole 5:00 ready thing? Yeah, is that still a go, since the whole 1:00 pick up thing was delayed by almost 2 hours? I would hate to pack up my kids, bother my dad for yet another ride today, get to your shop to find out that someone brought doughnuts for coffee time and your coffee order was messed up. I'd hate for that to have happened to you.
Just out of curiosity, you don't happen to be related to the cable guy or the phone man? No? Oh, no reason; just wondering.
By the way, I do appreciate you fixing my car. These Canadian winters can be tough and, while it is certainly beautiful now, I know that winter will rear its 'ooglay' head again so, having a glass barrier between it and us will be really swell.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Getting to Know You
Keely over at MannLand5 has a fun getting to know you blog carnival. I know I am a day late but here is my "go" at the answers.
Today's questions's are..
1. Hair color..Au naturale..or not?
Half and half. yes! That is what I said! Yes, that does mean I have neglected my hair and that I have roots way beyond root definition. At least the colors were somewhat similar so I am not looking like a distant relative to Pepe LePew.
2. If somebody has food in their teeth or lipstick on their teeth do you tell them?
I'd like to think I would but chances are it would depend on the situation, how well I know them, am I feeling particularily shy right then, what kind of event are we at? I know, pretty petty huh? I'd want someone to let me know so I do try to tell people.
3. Would you rather have a million dollars or your vision of the perfect body?
I think I would go with the million dollars. I know I could look the way I wanted to with just a bit of will power and perhaps a couple extra dollars for a trainer.
4. Favorite magazine?
I don't know. I don't really read magazines. Perhaps Family Circle or Woman's Day.
5. Bra style..lacey or plain?
I like me some lace, but I am more of a plain kind of gal, especially if it has fun colors or a fun pattern.
6. If you walked into Victoria's Secret..would you most likely come out with something sexy or comfy?
I am going comfy. Shameful, I know. I am all about comfort, especially at home. Outside the home I like to dress classy or elegant or, well, nice but at home...get me comfy!
7. Do you fake and bake?
I have and if I had the extra money, I would still. It is the middle of winter here, it makes me feel warm to my bones. Oh and have I mentioned my skin is so pale I am almost see-through? Yup. I wasn't called Casper in school for nothing. Fake baking is the only way I can get a tan without becoming extremely patriotic - red and white...
8. What's your favorite body part on a man?
Ripped abs...or eyes you can fall into...
Today's questions's are..
1. Hair color..Au naturale..or not?
Half and half. yes! That is what I said! Yes, that does mean I have neglected my hair and that I have roots way beyond root definition. At least the colors were somewhat similar so I am not looking like a distant relative to Pepe LePew.
2. If somebody has food in their teeth or lipstick on their teeth do you tell them?
I'd like to think I would but chances are it would depend on the situation, how well I know them, am I feeling particularily shy right then, what kind of event are we at? I know, pretty petty huh? I'd want someone to let me know so I do try to tell people.
3. Would you rather have a million dollars or your vision of the perfect body?
I think I would go with the million dollars. I know I could look the way I wanted to with just a bit of will power and perhaps a couple extra dollars for a trainer.
4. Favorite magazine?
I don't know. I don't really read magazines. Perhaps Family Circle or Woman's Day.
5. Bra style..lacey or plain?
I like me some lace, but I am more of a plain kind of gal, especially if it has fun colors or a fun pattern.
6. If you walked into Victoria's Secret..would you most likely come out with something sexy or comfy?
I am going comfy. Shameful, I know. I am all about comfort, especially at home. Outside the home I like to dress classy or elegant or, well, nice but at home...get me comfy!
7. Do you fake and bake?
I have and if I had the extra money, I would still. It is the middle of winter here, it makes me feel warm to my bones. Oh and have I mentioned my skin is so pale I am almost see-through? Yup. I wasn't called Casper in school for nothing. Fake baking is the only way I can get a tan without becoming extremely patriotic - red and white...
8. What's your favorite body part on a man?
Ripped abs...or eyes you can fall into...
Not Me Monday
Here's a bit of "therapy" - a fun little blog carnival started by Mckmama of all the things we did not do. Check out some of the other ladies by following this link, here.
As previously mentioned on my blog, we did not start last week off by having some kids with nothing better to do, smash our back window out of our car using a ceramic tile. You can not see the picture of our lovely, crumbling window here.
I did not get stopped by the police that same day because of the window; they did not thnk it was me who had broken and thus stole my crumbling car. When asked who I thought may have done this to our car, I did not respond "Probably the same bored kids who threw the brick at my car door last week."
I have not been driving around with plastic duct taped to my car in lieu of a back window for the past week. I have not been thankful EVERY day that we wake up to well above typical January temps for our northern Canadian location.
We do not have an appointment tomorrow to get the window replaced and my husband is not, right now, going to a salvage yard to purchase our "new to us" back window.
I am not feeling like a work widow this month. My husband has not been gone all last week and won't be gone all this coming week and the week to follow. We do not hang around my laptop waiting to see Daddy on-line so we can talk to him via skype every night he is gone.
I did not have a lot of fun last night taking pictures some of our friends playing a game of hockey. It is never any fun being in the rink, hearing the sound of the puck echo as it ricochets off the boards, or hearing the friendly banter between the players...
You would not believe that this young man is a former gang member whose life has been and is being transformed at Canadian Revival Centre (my home church).
As previously mentioned on my blog, we did not start last week off by having some kids with nothing better to do, smash our back window out of our car using a ceramic tile. You can not see the picture of our lovely, crumbling window here.
I did not get stopped by the police that same day because of the window; they did not thnk it was me who had broken and thus stole my crumbling car. When asked who I thought may have done this to our car, I did not respond "Probably the same bored kids who threw the brick at my car door last week."
I have not been driving around with plastic duct taped to my car in lieu of a back window for the past week. I have not been thankful EVERY day that we wake up to well above typical January temps for our northern Canadian location.
We do not have an appointment tomorrow to get the window replaced and my husband is not, right now, going to a salvage yard to purchase our "new to us" back window.
I am not feeling like a work widow this month. My husband has not been gone all last week and won't be gone all this coming week and the week to follow. We do not hang around my laptop waiting to see Daddy on-line so we can talk to him via skype every night he is gone.
I did not have a lot of fun last night taking pictures some of our friends playing a game of hockey. It is never any fun being in the rink, hearing the sound of the puck echo as it ricochets off the boards, or hearing the friendly banter between the players...
You would not believe that this young man is a former gang member whose life has been and is being transformed at Canadian Revival Centre (my home church).
Friday, January 15, 2010
Five Question Friday
Thanks to MamaM for this little get t' know ya post.
1. Worst trouble you ever got into as a teenager? Gee, I guess that can easily be answered reading the last few posts I wrote (Just past The Final Countdown one)
2. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Definitely night...mornings and I are like oil and water. In fact, just like my daughter, Rush, my husband has said to me 'For a beautiful girl, you sure can be ugly". LOL
3. Are you a one-handed or a two-handed Texter?
One handed.
4. Democrat, Republican, or Independent..or maybe even Green Party (whatever that is).
I just don't have enough patience to answer this question. I am certainly not for the party I am forced to promote...
5. Are you a pet person?
Am I? O yes. Other than the reptiles my family seems to have a love for - not too fond of them (but in a way I still kind of am. I just don't like to hold them and all)
1. Worst trouble you ever got into as a teenager? Gee, I guess that can easily be answered reading the last few posts I wrote (Just past The Final Countdown one)
2. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Definitely night...mornings and I are like oil and water. In fact, just like my daughter, Rush, my husband has said to me 'For a beautiful girl, you sure can be ugly". LOL
3. Are you a one-handed or a two-handed Texter?
One handed.
4. Democrat, Republican, or Independent..or maybe even Green Party (whatever that is).
I just don't have enough patience to answer this question. I am certainly not for the party I am forced to promote...
5. Are you a pet person?
Am I? O yes. Other than the reptiles my family seems to have a love for - not too fond of them (but in a way I still kind of am. I just don't like to hold them and all)
Rockin' out to The Final Countdown
I know, I am dating myself by talking about this but, I am comfortable with that.
The other day I was in a supermarket near my house, just me and Bug. I don't normally go to this market so I am unfamiliar with where things are and so, we were just strolling the aisles looking for what we needed. Music was playing from the ceiling speakers.
As we rounded a corner we just about ran right into a man who looked to be fortyish just rockin' out to Europe's The Final Countdown. I felt like I had just stumbled into some comedic 1992 movie.
He turned a few shades of red and immediately left the aisle we were in and Bug asked me "WHAT was dat man doin', Mom? Cra-azy!"
It was good for a chuckle (other than embarrassing the poor guy) and was a good little trip back down memory lane.
The other day I was in a supermarket near my house, just me and Bug. I don't normally go to this market so I am unfamiliar with where things are and so, we were just strolling the aisles looking for what we needed. Music was playing from the ceiling speakers.
As we rounded a corner we just about ran right into a man who looked to be fortyish just rockin' out to Europe's The Final Countdown. I felt like I had just stumbled into some comedic 1992 movie.
He turned a few shades of red and immediately left the aisle we were in and Bug asked me "WHAT was dat man doin', Mom? Cra-azy!"
It was good for a chuckle (other than embarrassing the poor guy) and was a good little trip back down memory lane.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Story of a Girl - Rescued
Find Part One and Part Two here.
On a cold November morning, the girl hopped a city bus by herself. The sky was grey and dreary and seemed to be a sad as she was. She leaned her head against the cold window of the bus and stared into the cloud covered sky. As she stepped off the bus, and felt the snow crunch under her feet, the girl felt a tingling on her face as the tears, she had unknowingly shed, were faced with the bitter Canadian wind. Dying a little inside with each step she took, she made her way to the hospital.
The lady at the registration chair looked at her with a disapproving, downward glare. She doesn't know what happened, what will happen or how much this hurts me right now. She waited in the cold, hard seats of the waiting room for her name to be called; the silence echoed in her head. In her heart she was a broken, wailing mess but outwardly, she remained calm. Too many people had seen her hurt; she would be damned if she would let these people see into her life enough to know the war that was raging.
At last, her name was called and she was handed a gown and pointed to a bed. Everything seemed so surreal. As she lay on the gurney, a nurse came to her and asked if she were ready. As she mumbled a yes, hot tears began to flow from her eyes. The next thing she remembers is being in a recovery room, still alone, being discharged, walking out into that same cold winter air, to catch a bus to go to a friend's house(to recoup)and to then live her life pretending that she didn't just do something that made her hate herself.
From that point on her heart felt void; she was missing something - not something, someone, a little someone she could never gaze upon, never hold, never kiss, never say "I love you" to. The only words she had ever uttered to this poor baby was "I hate you" and her words haunted her every waking moment and bombarded her dreams. The girl began to have dreams of this baby, wondering if it was a boy or a girl. All the while drinking more and doing more drugs to try to dull the pain, getting skinnier and unhealthier, and closer to leaving her daughter (the only one she truly loved) alone.
Months dragged into years and she had changed her life. Still haunted by the loss, she had a dream of a boy, a smiling little boy; whose name was Gabriel and Gabriel looked just like her brother. With the peace the girl felt, she knew this was an image of her son.
For years she was still tormented with heart break and riddled with guilt and shame. She spoke of this to no one. She was scared of judgement, of ridicule...
Someone once said to me the broken hearted can minister to the broken hearted; I hope that somewhere and somehow I can reach someone who was/is in the situation I was and give her hope, show her peace and love, show her she is not alone. I hope I can share with someone out there that there is hope and there can be peace after making decisions that we will regret for our entire lives.
On a cold November morning, the girl hopped a city bus by herself. The sky was grey and dreary and seemed to be a sad as she was. She leaned her head against the cold window of the bus and stared into the cloud covered sky. As she stepped off the bus, and felt the snow crunch under her feet, the girl felt a tingling on her face as the tears, she had unknowingly shed, were faced with the bitter Canadian wind. Dying a little inside with each step she took, she made her way to the hospital.
The lady at the registration chair looked at her with a disapproving, downward glare. She doesn't know what happened, what will happen or how much this hurts me right now. She waited in the cold, hard seats of the waiting room for her name to be called; the silence echoed in her head. In her heart she was a broken, wailing mess but outwardly, she remained calm. Too many people had seen her hurt; she would be damned if she would let these people see into her life enough to know the war that was raging.
At last, her name was called and she was handed a gown and pointed to a bed. Everything seemed so surreal. As she lay on the gurney, a nurse came to her and asked if she were ready. As she mumbled a yes, hot tears began to flow from her eyes. The next thing she remembers is being in a recovery room, still alone, being discharged, walking out into that same cold winter air, to catch a bus to go to a friend's house(to recoup)and to then live her life pretending that she didn't just do something that made her hate herself.
From that point on her heart felt void; she was missing something - not something, someone, a little someone she could never gaze upon, never hold, never kiss, never say "I love you" to. The only words she had ever uttered to this poor baby was "I hate you" and her words haunted her every waking moment and bombarded her dreams. The girl began to have dreams of this baby, wondering if it was a boy or a girl. All the while drinking more and doing more drugs to try to dull the pain, getting skinnier and unhealthier, and closer to leaving her daughter (the only one she truly loved) alone.
Months dragged into years and she had changed her life. Still haunted by the loss, she had a dream of a boy, a smiling little boy; whose name was Gabriel and Gabriel looked just like her brother. With the peace the girl felt, she knew this was an image of her son.
For years she was still tormented with heart break and riddled with guilt and shame. She spoke of this to no one. She was scared of judgement, of ridicule...
No. She thinks of him quite often, like when Bug does something for the first time, every Christmas season when she puts up the tree decoration she bought to honor her son and just about any oter reason you could think of. She still regrets the decision she was coherced into but, it was her decision; she does not allow guilt and condemnation to rule her any longer.
What do I hope to gain by sharing all these hurts with you? Not your sympathy; I have no need for that. My life is what it was and it has made me who I am; it has given me the ability to fight, to be strong, to stay steadfast, to persevere and to be hopeful. Those are the character traits I want to have gained from this - not self-pity and hopelessness I want you to, perhaps, remember to be a little more gentle the next time you hear of a similar story, be a little kinder to a girl who is acting out.
What do I hope to gain by sharing all these hurts with you? Not your sympathy; I have no need for that. My life is what it was and it has made me who I am; it has given me the ability to fight, to be strong, to stay steadfast, to persevere and to be hopeful. Those are the character traits I want to have gained from this - not self-pity and hopelessness I want you to, perhaps, remember to be a little more gentle the next time you hear of a similar story, be a little kinder to a girl who is acting out.
Someone once said to me the broken hearted can minister to the broken hearted; I hope that somewhere and somehow I can reach someone who was/is in the situation I was and give her hope, show her peace and love, show her she is not alone. I hope I can share with someone out there that there is hope and there can be peace after making decisions that we will regret for our entire lives.
The Story of a Girl
Continued from Part One.
After three volatile years of marriage, the girl finally left her husband, taking her young daughter with her, after watching her husband pick up a ride-on toy and throw it across the yard, towards her daughter, not once but three consecutive times. It was the all the girl could do to gather their things, call her mom to come get her, and leave all else behind, including her house with the huge yard and garden, a cat she rescued from the bitter cold one winter, her daughter's poodle/terrier, Princess and her very own purebred Samoyed, Tishka.
The girl moved back in with her mother and step-father for a few months to get back on her feet, went back to school to get her Automated Office Administration course and eventually moved in with a room-mate who had a daughter one year older than the girl's own daughter.
The girl and the room-mate spent most of their time attempting to forget their past hurts by going to the bar 4 nights a week, and the girl, decided to take control of her own body by willingly giving herself away to guys because it seemed easier in her head to do it that way than to have them forcefully take it from her. Her shame drove her to drink more, and to turn to drugs as well. She learned a valuable lesson from that though, once she snapped out of it, you will still have to deal with the guilt and then some the next day.
One night, she ran into a boy that she knew, that she thought she trusted; he invited her back to his parent's house to watch a movie. By the end of the night she would wind up victim {gee, I hate that word}of yet another date rape.
Broken, battered, alone and running her health further into the ground, the girl knew she had but one person in this world that she could count on, one person she knew she was safe to love. Her health was failing due to eating disorders and her lifestyle. She began to feel as rough as she looked, so she went to a doctor who told her she was pregnant. This doctor then told her that her she was too ill to carry this child. Lost, confused, and broken, she put her trust in his medical position, as well as similar advice from the room-mate.
Many nights she found herself crying, on the steps of her house, for someone to make everything ok. She began to believe the doctor that having this baby would leave her daughter motherless and back in the violent clutches of her father. The girl cried each night knowing that the child that was growing within her, and that could take her life, was conceived out of hatred, control and sadness. With no one in her family on supporting her in any aspect of her life, she felt her choice was clear.
To be continued.
After three volatile years of marriage, the girl finally left her husband, taking her young daughter with her, after watching her husband pick up a ride-on toy and throw it across the yard, towards her daughter, not once but three consecutive times. It was the all the girl could do to gather their things, call her mom to come get her, and leave all else behind, including her house with the huge yard and garden, a cat she rescued from the bitter cold one winter, her daughter's poodle/terrier, Princess and her very own purebred Samoyed, Tishka.
The girl moved back in with her mother and step-father for a few months to get back on her feet, went back to school to get her Automated Office Administration course and eventually moved in with a room-mate who had a daughter one year older than the girl's own daughter.
The girl and the room-mate spent most of their time attempting to forget their past hurts by going to the bar 4 nights a week, and the girl, decided to take control of her own body by willingly giving herself away to guys because it seemed easier in her head to do it that way than to have them forcefully take it from her. Her shame drove her to drink more, and to turn to drugs as well. She learned a valuable lesson from that though, once she snapped out of it, you will still have to deal with the guilt and then some the next day.
One night, she ran into a boy that she knew, that she thought she trusted; he invited her back to his parent's house to watch a movie. By the end of the night she would wind up victim {gee, I hate that word}of yet another date rape.
Broken, battered, alone and running her health further into the ground, the girl knew she had but one person in this world that she could count on, one person she knew she was safe to love. Her health was failing due to eating disorders and her lifestyle. She began to feel as rough as she looked, so she went to a doctor who told her she was pregnant. This doctor then told her that her she was too ill to carry this child. Lost, confused, and broken, she put her trust in his medical position, as well as similar advice from the room-mate.
Many nights she found herself crying, on the steps of her house, for someone to make everything ok. She began to believe the doctor that having this baby would leave her daughter motherless and back in the violent clutches of her father. The girl cried each night knowing that the child that was growing within her, and that could take her life, was conceived out of hatred, control and sadness. With no one in her family on supporting her in any aspect of her life, she felt her choice was clear.
To be continued.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Story of a Girl - The Prequel
The girl grew up on a farm and was living a wonderful childhood of frolicking in pastures, of horseback riding through meadows and streams, of making forts in the trees, of lying in a bed of straw with the calves, of going on leisurly strolls with her grandpa and of stealing veggies from her grandma's garden. Her family lived in the same yard as her grandparents where they had a mixed farm (grain and cattle), raised horses, grew fabulously large gardens and enoyed the tranquil innocence of the country air.
When she was 8 years old, her mother left for a month (after her affair with another man was brought to light). The girl found a letter her mother had written to the other man stating that she couldn't wait to join him in BC (where he had moved) as her children "wouldn't need me {her}; they will be graduating and leaving home soon". The 8 year old girl was the oldest of her siblings.
The mom came back and the young girl spent her days with her younger brother and sister keeping them busy in their bedroom at the back of the trailer, hoping that she could protect their ears from the fighting, all the while trying not to cry herself; she never let them see her cry (she felt she had to be their rock).
When the girl was 13 years old, she awoke to the screams of her 9 year old brother that the house was on fire. Only a shell remained. Most of their things were lost. A year later the girl's dad handed her a pink book that held all of the information and pictures of her first year of life; her dad rescued it from the dump where her mom had casually tossed it - in very good condition. He rescued three baby books that day, one representing each of his children.
At 14 the girl's best friend (her grandfather) died and she was heart-broken. That summer, she approached her dad between rows of potatoes, asking him if he thought "mom was at it again" because she, along with her brother and sister, had been taken to a man's house, a man that her mom was spending too much (awkwardly close) time with. That same summer, her mom left the house one last time, leaving behind her three children (who really didn't want to go with her anyway in light of what had happened).
At 15, the girl was a live-in babysitter for a lady whose husband came home drunk and intended to rape her. Luckily, the girl was able to divert his attention. Her luck (if I believed in luck) was not so good when her boyfriend brought her back to her place of employment and did rape her, hurting her badly enough that her employer had to rush the girl to the hospital. Afraid to file a report, the girl, her boss, the boyfriend and the hospital staff are the only ones to know.
In this story, the girl is the spitting image of her mother, physically, and it was incredibly hard on her father. The two, out of their shattered hearts, took to fighting with each other and, when the girl was 16, finally told her dad she had to leave. (This is where the girl feels a lot of guilt as now she knows what the dad endured first hand.)
The girl moved to the "big city' where her mom lived, as she felt she had no where to go. She did everything she could to avoid seeing her mother, which involved a lot of sneaking into bars, hanging out with bikers, house parties, and, occasionally, attending her senior year. Where she met a boy (well a particular boy) and she ended up pregnant, rejected by her entire family and moving into her boyfriend's parent's house. Feeling lost and alone, she felt pressured to marry him, which she did at 18 years of age.
Little did she know she was only beginning her journey of torment, of feeling alone, of feeling scared and hopeless, and at times fearful for the lives of her and her infant daughter.
To be continued...
When she was 8 years old, her mother left for a month (after her affair with another man was brought to light). The girl found a letter her mother had written to the other man stating that she couldn't wait to join him in BC (where he had moved) as her children "wouldn't need me {her}; they will be graduating and leaving home soon". The 8 year old girl was the oldest of her siblings.
The mom came back and the young girl spent her days with her younger brother and sister keeping them busy in their bedroom at the back of the trailer, hoping that she could protect their ears from the fighting, all the while trying not to cry herself; she never let them see her cry (she felt she had to be their rock).
When the girl was 13 years old, she awoke to the screams of her 9 year old brother that the house was on fire. Only a shell remained. Most of their things were lost. A year later the girl's dad handed her a pink book that held all of the information and pictures of her first year of life; her dad rescued it from the dump where her mom had casually tossed it - in very good condition. He rescued three baby books that day, one representing each of his children.
At 14 the girl's best friend (her grandfather) died and she was heart-broken. That summer, she approached her dad between rows of potatoes, asking him if he thought "mom was at it again" because she, along with her brother and sister, had been taken to a man's house, a man that her mom was spending too much (awkwardly close) time with. That same summer, her mom left the house one last time, leaving behind her three children (who really didn't want to go with her anyway in light of what had happened).
At 15, the girl was a live-in babysitter for a lady whose husband came home drunk and intended to rape her. Luckily, the girl was able to divert his attention. Her luck (if I believed in luck) was not so good when her boyfriend brought her back to her place of employment and did rape her, hurting her badly enough that her employer had to rush the girl to the hospital. Afraid to file a report, the girl, her boss, the boyfriend and the hospital staff are the only ones to know.
In this story, the girl is the spitting image of her mother, physically, and it was incredibly hard on her father. The two, out of their shattered hearts, took to fighting with each other and, when the girl was 16, finally told her dad she had to leave. (This is where the girl feels a lot of guilt as now she knows what the dad endured first hand.)
The girl moved to the "big city' where her mom lived, as she felt she had no where to go. She did everything she could to avoid seeing her mother, which involved a lot of sneaking into bars, hanging out with bikers, house parties, and, occasionally, attending her senior year. Where she met a boy (well a particular boy) and she ended up pregnant, rejected by her entire family and moving into her boyfriend's parent's house. Feeling lost and alone, she felt pressured to marry him, which she did at 18 years of age.
Little did she know she was only beginning her journey of torment, of feeling alone, of feeling scared and hopeless, and at times fearful for the lives of her and her infant daughter.
To be continued...
To Be {Bold} or Not To Be {Bold}
That is the question. There are a couple things that I could blog about {two in particular} that I have, on occassion, felt like sharing but I chicken out. Afraid of rejection, of your anger, of people turning their backs...but then I wonder if I should allow that to dictate what I do or don't do. You never know, perhaps my story will touch one, will help one...
Monday, January 11, 2010
Top 10 Signs you may be living with a future drummer
It's been a while since I watched him but, I am pretty sure David Letterman still does his Top 10 lists, right? So, tonight, I bring to you my Top 10 list... Top 10 signs you may be living with a future drummer.
So, without further ado...
10. The pots and pans are NEVER in the cupboard where they belong but you can certainly find them in your son's room - along with a couple wooden spoons from the drawer.
9. You go out to a restaurant to eat and find yourself being entertained by a 2 1/2 year old with several glasses of water and a spoon. (Obviously we learned this one awhile ago)
8. You constantly find yourself saying, "Please, stop drumming on the table, on the wall, on the floor..." You get the idea.
7. You also find yourself saying things like, "That is not how we are supposed to use pencil crayons, honey."
6. Instead of the latest Disney/Pixar movie, your son asks for a "How-to-drum" DVD.
5. "We don't drum on the fish tank, dear."
4. You take your son to a music store and you'd think you had stepped into Disney Land.
3. The salesman in the drum section of said music store says, "I'm sorry. It sounds like you have a natural drummer here."
2. More than once you have had to tell your son to stop drumming on his sisters.
And...
the number 1 sign you may be living with a future drummer:
You have said on more than one occassion, "We do not drum on the kitty's head..."
So, without further ado...
10. The pots and pans are NEVER in the cupboard where they belong but you can certainly find them in your son's room - along with a couple wooden spoons from the drawer.
9. You go out to a restaurant to eat and find yourself being entertained by a 2 1/2 year old with several glasses of water and a spoon. (Obviously we learned this one awhile ago)
8. You constantly find yourself saying, "Please, stop drumming on the table, on the wall, on the floor..." You get the idea.
7. You also find yourself saying things like, "That is not how we are supposed to use pencil crayons, honey."
6. Instead of the latest Disney/Pixar movie, your son asks for a "How-to-drum" DVD.
5. "We don't drum on the fish tank, dear."
4. You take your son to a music store and you'd think you had stepped into Disney Land.
3. The salesman in the drum section of said music store says, "I'm sorry. It sounds like you have a natural drummer here."
2. More than once you have had to tell your son to stop drumming on his sisters.
And...
the number 1 sign you may be living with a future drummer:
You have said on more than one occassion, "We do not drum on the kitty's head..."
Not Me Monday
Ok, so here's a different twist to Not Me Monday than I have ever seen but I just HAD to...
As I was picking Jellybean up from school today one of her friends ran up behind her and threw her hands over Jellybean's eyes. Jellybean instantly said, "Hi, Nina. I know it's you."
To which her friend replied, "Nope, it's not me."
For more, wild, wacky, and hilarious Not Me's check out MckMama's blog here.
Hooray for my first Not Me Monday on this blog!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Final
Thank you for the kind words from yesterday's post. Please forgive any spelling and gramatical blunders I may have in this one. My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep.
I stayed with my uncle last night, in his hospital room. My sister and I, so my mom, step-dad and another uncle could get some sleep. We held uncle's hand, rubbed his head and wiped his tears as he went through wave after wave of pain. It is an interesting experience to walk someone through death - not just someone, but someone you love. I noticed, this afternoon, that he had bruised my hand. Poor uncle - his pain was intense. (It reminded me of childbirthing pains - only the complete opposite yet so life transforming).
I got home to sleep this morning at 9, after my step-dad bought my sister and I breakfast. At 11 I was walking out the door to go to music practice and my cell phone ran.
At 10:55 this morning, my uncle got complete escape from his pain. He is at rest now and, though tears have fallen, I am so relieved for him.
I want to thank the nurses for the kindness, the compassion and the love my uncle received in the care of our hospital. I would also like to thank them for those same things for us. We were well taken care of by those wonderful men and women. The small gestures they made for us and towards my uncle that are immeasurable in the demonstrative way that they impacted our hearts - the way they would gently touch his head to say goodbye as they were leaving shift (hoping for his sake that it would be the last time they could say goodbye) or the way they would file into his room in the morning as soon as shift started to give him a gentle touch and kind words - even nurses that weren't assigned to him that day.
We are so appreciative of you, what you do and the heart you do it with! My words are non-descript as to how I truly feel for you all.
Y'all rock!
Once I get some sleep, I will be ok, so don't let your heart be heavy for me. My uncle's pain is over; he doesn't have to fight anymore and for that, I am grateful.
I stayed with my uncle last night, in his hospital room. My sister and I, so my mom, step-dad and another uncle could get some sleep. We held uncle's hand, rubbed his head and wiped his tears as he went through wave after wave of pain. It is an interesting experience to walk someone through death - not just someone, but someone you love. I noticed, this afternoon, that he had bruised my hand. Poor uncle - his pain was intense. (It reminded me of childbirthing pains - only the complete opposite yet so life transforming).
I got home to sleep this morning at 9, after my step-dad bought my sister and I breakfast. At 11 I was walking out the door to go to music practice and my cell phone ran.
At 10:55 this morning, my uncle got complete escape from his pain. He is at rest now and, though tears have fallen, I am so relieved for him.
I want to thank the nurses for the kindness, the compassion and the love my uncle received in the care of our hospital. I would also like to thank them for those same things for us. We were well taken care of by those wonderful men and women. The small gestures they made for us and towards my uncle that are immeasurable in the demonstrative way that they impacted our hearts - the way they would gently touch his head to say goodbye as they were leaving shift (hoping for his sake that it would be the last time they could say goodbye) or the way they would file into his room in the morning as soon as shift started to give him a gentle touch and kind words - even nurses that weren't assigned to him that day.
We are so appreciative of you, what you do and the heart you do it with! My words are non-descript as to how I truly feel for you all.
Y'all rock!
Once I get some sleep, I will be ok, so don't let your heart be heavy for me. My uncle's pain is over; he doesn't have to fight anymore and for that, I am grateful.
Friday, January 8, 2010
What to hope for?
My uncle, the one from here, has been on a downward spiral since writing that post. Last night at 10:30 he took another one. The family has been called and is taking turns sitting with him to comfort him. He is unresponsive but he cries or whimpers when he is in pain. His breathing is very labored and induces more pain for him with each breath. When you walk into his room, you can sense death lingering.
Having worked in the hospital for so long, I would even say you could smell it. The palliative level has a smell; whether it is a mixture of all sorts of things like bed pans and the like, it has a smell and, to me, it smells like death. It smells like sadness.
I counted the number of times my uncle was able to breathe in one minute, and with each came a protest of pain from his shallow body. His breathes ranged from 25 to 40, and I call them gasps because that is the only way to describe them, per minute. With each breath his body was trying desperately to cling to life while he has given himself over to death. With each pause between gasps, we would begin to wonder if death had finally won and he would breathe again, and I am not sure if we were relieved to see and hear it or if it broke our hearts more knowing he has more yet to endure.
His son and daughter know that he is dying yet, they have yet to come to him. It has been years since they have spoken to him, angry at him for whatever it is that occurred behind the closed doors of their house. I had hoped they would come - if for nothing else than to remove some burdens for themselves, dump whatever grudges they have toward their father so it doesn't continue to weigh on them, say whatever they want to say {tell him they're sorry, tell him they hate him, tell him that they don't understand but they are willing to forgive...)
Tonight I am going to be taking my "turn" sitting by his side, waiting to see if another labored, painful breath comes or not. My husband, not in a cruel way, said, "What good will it do to sit there? What does it do other than make the family feel better?" And I had no answer for him but I think I do now. He may be unresponsive but I am sure he can hear us and I think he will find some comfort knowing that he is not alone as he labors, as he cries, that he has family around him that loves him even if his own children don't. If I can offer him some sort of peace, comfort, and security as he takes his last precious breaths let it be done.
As I prepare myself with the things I will want for tonight, should he make it that long, I wonder what do I hope for? Do I hope for that second breath to come? That second breath labored through pain? Or do I hope for his breathing to be silenced, for peace to finally come? And as I type that, I find hot tears filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks. Wanting him to linger is so selfish but wishing for him to linger no more seems so cold and heartless and wrong... Yet through my grief, I feel comforted. My uncle has lived his life, not as long as he could have {he is 67 years old).
Having worked in the hospital for so long, I would even say you could smell it. The palliative level has a smell; whether it is a mixture of all sorts of things like bed pans and the like, it has a smell and, to me, it smells like death. It smells like sadness.
I counted the number of times my uncle was able to breathe in one minute, and with each came a protest of pain from his shallow body. His breathes ranged from 25 to 40, and I call them gasps because that is the only way to describe them, per minute. With each breath his body was trying desperately to cling to life while he has given himself over to death. With each pause between gasps, we would begin to wonder if death had finally won and he would breathe again, and I am not sure if we were relieved to see and hear it or if it broke our hearts more knowing he has more yet to endure.
His son and daughter know that he is dying yet, they have yet to come to him. It has been years since they have spoken to him, angry at him for whatever it is that occurred behind the closed doors of their house. I had hoped they would come - if for nothing else than to remove some burdens for themselves, dump whatever grudges they have toward their father so it doesn't continue to weigh on them, say whatever they want to say {tell him they're sorry, tell him they hate him, tell him that they don't understand but they are willing to forgive...)
Tonight I am going to be taking my "turn" sitting by his side, waiting to see if another labored, painful breath comes or not. My husband, not in a cruel way, said, "What good will it do to sit there? What does it do other than make the family feel better?" And I had no answer for him but I think I do now. He may be unresponsive but I am sure he can hear us and I think he will find some comfort knowing that he is not alone as he labors, as he cries, that he has family around him that loves him even if his own children don't. If I can offer him some sort of peace, comfort, and security as he takes his last precious breaths let it be done.
As I prepare myself with the things I will want for tonight, should he make it that long, I wonder what do I hope for? Do I hope for that second breath to come? That second breath labored through pain? Or do I hope for his breathing to be silenced, for peace to finally come? And as I type that, I find hot tears filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks. Wanting him to linger is so selfish but wishing for him to linger no more seems so cold and heartless and wrong... Yet through my grief, I feel comforted. My uncle has lived his life, not as long as he could have {he is 67 years old).
Thursday, January 7, 2010
If...
You were to come over to my house right now you would hear Jellybean and Bug playing in Bug's room. They are playing with their chipmunk toys from their McDonalds' happy meals and their toy horses.
If you were to be sitting in my living room with me {I would be being VERY rude right now because I probably should be visiting with you instead of being on my laptop}, you would hear Jellybean saying to Bug, "Okay, let's pretend that your horse, Checkers, hadn't won a race in a really long time so the rest of us decided to pretend to race and then at the very last minute we would all slow down so Checkers could win - including your other horse, Buttons. Ok?"
If you were sitting with me, chuckling at their playful commentaries, we would hear them yelling to Alvin, "Don't go towards the light! Don't go towards the light! C'mon Alvin, you can do it!"
If you were here, your heart would have just dropped with mine as we heard an ambulance and a fire truck race down our street and you would have wondered with me, 'what now?'.
If you were here to have heard the last two occurances, you would have thought, like I , that that was very strange indeed, considering the kids playing with Alvin going towards the light happened a full 30 seconds before we heard any sirens.
If you were visiting my city for any length of time, you would all ready know that a very prominent gang member/co-founder was murdered in the Penitentiary two days ago, that the jails in this province are in lock-down, and people are sitting on the edges of their seats waiting to see the repercussions of this {those waiting most anxiously are those employed at the provincial and federal jails, and their families}.
If you were aware of the above current event, it may also come up in conversation that my mom is a guard in one of the jails, but not the jail the murder occurred in. You would also know that there is a tension in the air that can only be attributed to the feelings people are having over this - the good and the bad.
If you were sitting in my living room with me, you would be looking at a grey laundry basket with several half pairs of socks, and we would be trying to figure out just where those silly socks go.
If you were here for coffee, we would have to go to Starbucks or to the Tim Hortons drive-thru because, since I don't drink coffee, I have never learned how to make it...
You also would have seen Bug running through the living room with his shirt stuck on his head as he was trying to get ready for bed, giggling as he shrieked, "I'm a lady! I'm a la-dy!".
You probably would have smiled a quiet smile as Jellybean sang us the song she just wrote for someone she loves VERY much.
And you would have laughed to hear Bug tell me that "when you gave me the squishy bear hug, my spine bone cracked in a hundred pieces and then it went back together VERY fast." (kinda reminds me of this post)
Your turn! What would we be doing if we were in YOUR house?
If you were to be sitting in my living room with me {I would be being VERY rude right now because I probably should be visiting with you instead of being on my laptop}, you would hear Jellybean saying to Bug, "Okay, let's pretend that your horse, Checkers, hadn't won a race in a really long time so the rest of us decided to pretend to race and then at the very last minute we would all slow down so Checkers could win - including your other horse, Buttons. Ok?"
If you were sitting with me, chuckling at their playful commentaries, we would hear them yelling to Alvin, "Don't go towards the light! Don't go towards the light! C'mon Alvin, you can do it!"
If you were here, your heart would have just dropped with mine as we heard an ambulance and a fire truck race down our street and you would have wondered with me, 'what now?'.
If you were here to have heard the last two occurances, you would have thought, like I , that that was very strange indeed, considering the kids playing with Alvin going towards the light happened a full 30 seconds before we heard any sirens.
If you were visiting my city for any length of time, you would all ready know that a very prominent gang member/co-founder was murdered in the Penitentiary two days ago, that the jails in this province are in lock-down, and people are sitting on the edges of their seats waiting to see the repercussions of this {those waiting most anxiously are those employed at the provincial and federal jails, and their families}.
If you were aware of the above current event, it may also come up in conversation that my mom is a guard in one of the jails, but not the jail the murder occurred in. You would also know that there is a tension in the air that can only be attributed to the feelings people are having over this - the good and the bad.
If you were sitting in my living room with me, you would be looking at a grey laundry basket with several half pairs of socks, and we would be trying to figure out just where those silly socks go.
If you were here for coffee, we would have to go to Starbucks or to the Tim Hortons drive-thru because, since I don't drink coffee, I have never learned how to make it...
You also would have seen Bug running through the living room with his shirt stuck on his head as he was trying to get ready for bed, giggling as he shrieked, "I'm a lady! I'm a la-dy!".
You probably would have smiled a quiet smile as Jellybean sang us the song she just wrote for someone she loves VERY much.
And you would have laughed to hear Bug tell me that "when you gave me the squishy bear hug, my spine bone cracked in a hundred pieces and then it went back together VERY fast." (kinda reminds me of this post)
Your turn! What would we be doing if we were in YOUR house?
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
You? You're like a butterfly
Someone I can hold only so gently. I can feel your wings flutter against my hands as you strengthen them - preparing to fly. This moment is so fleeting, magical, timeless yet passes much too swiftly. You are not mine to keep - simply mine to nurture. It is my privilege to keep you safe as you transform into this beautiful butterfly, this flitting creature of beauty and grace.
This picture of Jellybean was taken a mere 2 1/2 weeks ago. She still has a little girl look to her.
And somewhere, somehow in these almost 3 weeks there has been a transformation, a metamorphisis. There is less little girl and more young lady. There is grace and poise and compassion and wisdom and softness and elegance, and I look at her and I hold her in my arms and I cry. I did just that tonight. I held her in my arms and she snuggled in to me as close as we could get, and hot tears began to stream from my eyes.
Partly tears of sorrow, for if I could I would hold onto her so tightly that she could no longer grow older, that she would stay my little girl forever but, as with a butterfly, I can not do that. Her wings were meant to carry her to places that they could become touched by the magic of her as well. Mostly my tears were the happy tears of a mom who knows her little girl is growing up - becoming what she is to become, the tears of a mom who looks into the eyes of a gentle, loving young lady but past those eyes, she can see the small, delicate baby that smelled so fresh and new and like hope almost 10 years ago.
And when she was a child she played with a child's toys but now she has put aside her childish ways. She is painting her nails, doing her hair; she is no longer throwing on clothes but puts together an outfit. She as replaced sparkling doll dresses for glitter in her own hair and crayons and a coloring book for her notebook and writing
She is showing us what it truly means to love your neighbor with no exceptions and no expectations. She wrote a note to the ladies who pierced her ears that made them cry. Her dad and I are learning a lot from her - even as we teach her, she teaches us through her kindness, her quite gentleness, her love...
It is my honor to hold you, sweet Jellybean, in my hands as you strengthen your wings, as you learn to use them, as they begin to carry you to the places you will go, to the lives you will touch. The first of those lives, and the one that has been touched the most, is mine.
I would love to be able to capture time in a bottle just so I can hold on to these moments. They are just going by so quickly. Really, I blinked and it seems like I missed a lot of your life when really it was three weeks time and I didn't miss it at all.
I see you and lyrics from a Roberta Flak song flood my head.
"The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave "
How about you, ladies? Does it seem like your children change suddenly? Like one moment they have transformed before your very eyes, aging what seems like years in mere moments?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
I promised it, didn't I?
I'm pretty sure I did. And, if memory serves me correctly, I am only about 3 weeks behind schedule in fulfilling that promise. But I am okay with that and, well, you all sort of have to be because, well, I didn't get the pictures on here until now. So, here you are. You're welcome.
May I present to you pictures of our weekend with Rush (Dec 19/09).
She did enjoy working on our traditional gingerbread house a bit more than it looks in the above picture.
Jellybean and Bug sampling some of the decorations.
Rush checking out her tunes...
This year's house was more of a gingerbread crack house than our usual gingerbread winter fun-land. The icing was not set quite enough when we began decorating and the house shifted...giving it the appearance of one of the houses from our downtown core...
What more could they want from their time with Rush? Pajama party, snuggling on the loveseat, watching a movie and eating chips.
There were moments that Saturday, between Rush and her siblings, that spoke to us that she does miss them...
Coupons, coupons, coupons!
And these ones are for Canada! Woo Hoo! It seems most sites I find out there are coupon sites for the U.S... great for my American friends. Doesn't really help me much. Ok, it doesn't help me at all (except for when I am planning a trip down to KC, MO but that isn't coming up for awhile.
So, I will be doing some more digging in the future and if you have any sites, ADD them! Um, please...
So far I have found the following (which are fairly easy to find but, I do what I can. You're welcome.)
Save.ca
Gocoupons
With both of these sites you select the coupons you want and they are mailed out to you. Coupons from Save.ca are good for about 60 days. I just found Gocoupons and selected my coupons so I am still waiting to see how long they take to get here and for how long they are good.
All right my fellow Canadian mamas, do you have any more leads for coupons?
So, I will be doing some more digging in the future and if you have any sites, ADD them! Um, please...
So far I have found the following (which are fairly easy to find but, I do what I can. You're welcome.)
Save.ca
Gocoupons
With both of these sites you select the coupons you want and they are mailed out to you. Coupons from Save.ca are good for about 60 days. I just found Gocoupons and selected my coupons so I am still waiting to see how long they take to get here and for how long they are good.
All right my fellow Canadian mamas, do you have any more leads for coupons?
Because sometimes you need a little help
When you are lacking, it is nice to have someone with abundance step in to fill the gap; isn't it?
I can't tell the difference. Can you tell the difference?
Our dear friend, Wayne and his son, Justin.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Much ado about nothing in particular
→Today we cancelled our home phone. We both have cell phones, plus we have skype on our computers. We can't call land lines with it as we haven't paid for that feature but we can call computer to computer... We are saving ourselves $600/year by cancelling our land line. $600 a year, huh? That's a fair bit especially given the fact that most of the calls we get are on our cells and we may get 4 calls a month on our land line. Ok, maybe a bit more than that - but not much. EVERYONE calls our cells.
Thus begins our year of beginning to incorporate Kingdom principles in our finances.
→ I used that Jillian Michaels Fitness Ultimatum 2010 the other day.
I needed help to even think about using my leg muscles. My boss even threatened to send in help to get me off the toilet if I took longer than she thought I needed. Seriously though, I could hardly move.
→ I got to go out for supper last night with my husband. Just us. I had a Tuscan pizza. Oh! So Good! {like I am salivating right now good} I was very nicely surprised when a figure ran up beside me and threw her arms around me. When I realized who it was, I began to cry {happy tears}; it was my friend who moved away {the day Rush ran away} to another province.
→ I was distracted through a bit of our supper as one of Rush's good friend's family sat across the way from us and I could see her talking and laughing with her family and looking at her mom with love and adoration. It hurt but I am pleased to say that it did not dictate my night. I had my moment of grief and was able to move on.
→ We were joined after we finished our supper by some very, very dear friends of ours for "coffee".
→ Why "coffee"? I don't drink coffee. I haven't since I was pregnant with Rush over 16 years ago. The smell of it made me ill and I have had, maybe, 3 cups since.
→ Kids really do say the silliest things sometimes and the thought processes they have ever amaze me.
→ Case in point, Bug was playing and running quite hard this morning and was left a little out of breath; he looked at me and said, "Mama, my breath is angry at me."
The other day he decided to delight us with an extremely descriptive tale of his last bowel movement and how it "shot out of him like a bomb from a ship." {Has to be a boy thing.}
→ We are in the process of deciding if it will be to the best interest of our family for me to take in a couple of children and have Home Daycare instead of working at the grocery store. There is one lady who is interested at this point. I would need one more to make it worth my while. My job does not give us medical benefits; we get that from BigB's work and so we are just relying on my job for the income. If I can do that while still being at home full-time all the better!
→ BigB got me Lightroom and I am so thrilled to be able to begin playing with it tonight. I have not yet had the chance. What with writing a skit and all...
→ I wrote a skit called The Biggest Loser - Church Edition and we performed it at our church on New Year's Eve. BigB and I also teamed up to compete in the anual Iron Chef competition at our church (also on New Year's Eve). We didn't win but had SO much fun with the 4 other teams.
→ Boxing Day was an incredibly eventful day. We were introduced to a new {church} family member. Little Landon Jeremiah was born at 7 AM. In the evening our close friend's dad was admitted to the hospital and the prognosis didn't look good. I am pleased to say that the situation has been rectified and e is doing well at home. Grandpa Art simply had pneumonia that had brought on an infection which resulted in complications.
→ Dec 27th we had a bunch of the young adults from our church over. People who have recently moved from different provinces and have no family here. We filled them with food, baking and love and sent them home happy; it was nice to be around people we love.
→ I am thankful for my regular schedule. It is nice to be able to be back blogging and to go to your blogs and see what you all have been up to.
See? Much ado about nothing in particular. What have you been up to lately? Huh, friends?
Thus begins our year of beginning to incorporate Kingdom principles in our finances.
→ I used that Jillian Michaels Fitness Ultimatum 2010 the other day.
I needed help to even think about using my leg muscles. My boss even threatened to send in help to get me off the toilet if I took longer than she thought I needed. Seriously though, I could hardly move.
→ I got to go out for supper last night with my husband. Just us. I had a Tuscan pizza. Oh! So Good! {like I am salivating right now good} I was very nicely surprised when a figure ran up beside me and threw her arms around me. When I realized who it was, I began to cry {happy tears}; it was my friend who moved away {the day Rush ran away} to another province.
→ I was distracted through a bit of our supper as one of Rush's good friend's family sat across the way from us and I could see her talking and laughing with her family and looking at her mom with love and adoration. It hurt but I am pleased to say that it did not dictate my night. I had my moment of grief and was able to move on.
→ We were joined after we finished our supper by some very, very dear friends of ours for "coffee".
→ Why "coffee"? I don't drink coffee. I haven't since I was pregnant with Rush over 16 years ago. The smell of it made me ill and I have had, maybe, 3 cups since.
→ Kids really do say the silliest things sometimes and the thought processes they have ever amaze me.
→ Case in point, Bug was playing and running quite hard this morning and was left a little out of breath; he looked at me and said, "Mama, my breath is angry at me."
The other day he decided to delight us with an extremely descriptive tale of his last bowel movement and how it "shot out of him like a bomb from a ship." {Has to be a boy thing.}
→ We are in the process of deciding if it will be to the best interest of our family for me to take in a couple of children and have Home Daycare instead of working at the grocery store. There is one lady who is interested at this point. I would need one more to make it worth my while. My job does not give us medical benefits; we get that from BigB's work and so we are just relying on my job for the income. If I can do that while still being at home full-time all the better!
→ BigB got me Lightroom and I am so thrilled to be able to begin playing with it tonight. I have not yet had the chance. What with writing a skit and all...
→ I wrote a skit called The Biggest Loser - Church Edition and we performed it at our church on New Year's Eve. BigB and I also teamed up to compete in the anual Iron Chef competition at our church (also on New Year's Eve). We didn't win but had SO much fun with the 4 other teams.
→ Boxing Day was an incredibly eventful day. We were introduced to a new {church} family member. Little Landon Jeremiah was born at 7 AM. In the evening our close friend's dad was admitted to the hospital and the prognosis didn't look good. I am pleased to say that the situation has been rectified and e is doing well at home. Grandpa Art simply had pneumonia that had brought on an infection which resulted in complications.
→ Dec 27th we had a bunch of the young adults from our church over. People who have recently moved from different provinces and have no family here. We filled them with food, baking and love and sent them home happy; it was nice to be around people we love.
→ I am thankful for my regular schedule. It is nice to be able to be back blogging and to go to your blogs and see what you all have been up to.
See? Much ado about nothing in particular. What have you been up to lately? Huh, friends?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
I'm gonna wrap myself in paper
I'm gonna dab myself with glue
Stick some stamps on top of my head...
I'm gonna mail myself to you!
Thanks to Fred Penner for pre-penning the words to this blogpost in a cute little kids' song. I could not get that song out of my head after seeing Bug trying to wrap himself up as this adorable gift.
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