List of questions

A list of interesting questions:

1. Describe your note-taking style and habits.
2. Do you believe that we are all here for a reason?  What might the reason be?
3. What comes to mind when someone uses the phrase prolonging the magic?
4. Have you ever done something just to feel the danger, or to feel alive?
5. What is your favorite cliché?
6. How do rainy days make you feel?
7. What is the most amount of money you have had at one time?
8. Write a celebrity crush list.

Definitely interesting questions.  Some inspire deep thought, some require very little, some are just feelings about something or an observation.  Just quickly to go through these eight questions:

#1 - Note taking.  When I was in elementary school, we had to learn how to take notes.  My teacher would write outlines on the board for us to copy.  I HATED it.  It was several years down the road when I realized how important knowing how to make an outline is.  Kids in schools don't learn this anymore.  It's too bad.  Important skill that is being lost.  One that can make report writing easier.

#2 - Of course we are here for a reason.  Why?  Too deep to go into.  There is also a very basic physical reason why we are here.  Don't understand?  Time to have a long talk with the parents.

#3 - "Prolonging the magic" - I guess is another way of saying anticipation.  Sometimes the anticipation of something is better than the actual thing.  It's like Christmas.  I love Christmas day, but the month long anticipation leading up to it is even better.  I guess in the phrase "prolonging the magic" is not quite the same.  It would be like waking up on Christmas morning and finding out you can't open presents or eat the turkey dinner until tomorrow, when Grandma is scheduled to arrive into town.

#4 - Have I ever done something just to feel the danger?  Not really.  Nothing dangerous anyway.  I guess I've done some things slightly on the rebellious side just to do it.  I suppose driving the golf-cart-like vehicle in the dark, at it's highest speed through the walking paths of the park I work at, just because I can, could be an example of this.  Not necessarily dangerous, though.

#5 - Favorite cliché?  "It never rains but it pours."

#6  - How do rainy days make me feel? I love rainy days.  They make me happy. They can fuel my sadness if I'm having a sad day.  They can make me feel nostalgic.  They make me think of magic, too.  Not magic tricks, but like magic in a wonderful fairy tale.  Hard to explain.....

#7 - The most amount of money I've ever had at one time?  I don't really know.  In my hands?  In my bank account?  Stashed away in a secret hiding place in my room?  Don't know.  Not telling.

#8 - Celebrity crush list?  Not putting that here.  I have one, don't get me wrong, but it will not be revealed here.  Sorry.

No reason for this post.  I was looking through a list of journal-prompts.  Some of them inspire deep thoughts.  Many I found among the list, I wouldn't want to answer, such as "If you could tell the world one thing, what would it be?"  First off, I don't really know.  Secondly, I know it could never happen, so why torture myself with the idea.  Thirdly, if I could, most of the world wouldn't care what it was I had to say.  Fourth, I don't think it is a question that should ever have an answer.  If we only have one thing in our lives to say, our minds aren't thinking creatively anymore and I couldn't bear that.

More Bluebirds of Happiness

Some more funny pictures I took of my Bluebirds of Happiness back in 2009 and 2010:

Very patriotic Bluebirds of Happiness!

Happy Thanksgiving!  Don't you love the big bluebird, who is about to eat a TUMS?

The Bluebirds of Happiness with a bar of soap that just makes you happy look at.  I don't know why I took their picture with a bar of soap.



 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!



Growing tomatoes with the Bluebirds of Happiness:

Preparing for a rainy day - The Bluebirds of Happiness and food storage

Nothing like sharing a fresh home baked cookie with the Bluebirds.

Getting ready for a new school year:

Visiting friends at the family castle:

Spring flowers make even the Bluebirds happy.

 

 

A Toally Useless Possession that makes me smile

I found the quirkiest writing prompt recently and I had to try it:

Name a totally useless possession and how you came to acquire it.

I have a Bluebird of Happiness.  By itself it is completely useless as it is a bit of blue glass in the shape of a bird.  Even more useless, but adding to the fun, is I have two of these blue glass birds - a normal size and a baby size.

I wish I could remember exactly how they came to be in my possession.  I only know that I got both of them from my mom.  I believe mom acquired them (or at least one of them) from a student when she taught school, many years ago. 

We laughed about these little Bluebird of Happiness knick-knacks.  It became something of a joke between us - the useless glass birds and the fact that we possessed two of them.  In all honesty, the Bluebirds of Happiness have brought my mom and I just that: happiness.  They make us laugh.  I smile every time I see them.  They make me think of mom.

These are my Bluebirds of Happiness.  They are playing in the pool on a hot summer day.  Can you see them?  They are rather camouflaged in the blue pool.

 

One day I might share the reason I took such funny, ridiculous pictures of my Bluebirds of Happiness. :)  Until then, I hope they have made you happy today.

My hand's weird skin issue

I haven't written much here.  For whatever reason, I'm not thinking terribly creatively anymore.  I don't have my funny little random thoughts anymore.  I'm not sure why, but I come here, to my blog everyday, trying to think of anything to write and come up with zero.

My life isn't bad.  My kids are generally really great and I love my job.  Because of my job, however, I haven't been an active part of my improv group anymore.  I always ask for those days off, but every improv night, they call me up. Someone has called in sick and from what I can tell, they don't have many of us available to work at the large number of  parks that need to be staffed daily.  I'm always happy to help out, but it has prevented me from participating in my theater group.  I miss it.

One thing that I've been dealing with for a while is the skin on my right hand.  It started a little over a year ago, a small rash on the knuckle of my index finger that has gradually spread across the top of my hand, and up the sides of my fingers.  It is now spread to the underside of my fingers as well, but thankfully it hasn't reached my thumb or my palm.  Weird, isn't it?

I don't know what it is.  Eczema maybe?  That is the closest thing I can find to a diagnosis.  My hand not only itches all the time, but the skin is very painful.  It is hard to make a fist or straighten my fingers without cracking more of the skin and causing more pain.  The skin of my hand is covered in open sores.  The skin is dry and flakes constantly.  There are tiny blisters up and down my fingers.  They hurt when they are full and itch when they pop and it takes very little to make them pop.  Just moving my hand or my fingers rubbing against each other can make the blisters pop.  Lovely descriptions, I know.  My skin is red, itchy and painful.

Daily activities are sources for pain - hot water stings and is painful, so washing dishes and taking showers are tough.  Opening jars or bottles tear the fragile skin up.  The dry, flaking skin gets caught on clothes while I'm folding laundry.  The most mundane of tasks are a pain to my poor right hand.  What can you do?  Do the chores anyway.  They have to be done.  It's sad, but I've learned to live with the constant itching and stinging in my hand.  Perhaps that is just what I'll have to do.

I'm trying different things.  Some friends suggested tea tree oil rubbed onto the rash.  I've tried and will continue to try until the bottle runs out, but all it seems to do is dry out the skin more, making it more painful.  It stings like crazy too when it gets into the open sores.  I have used creams meant to relieve eczema and I have a cocoa butter stick that is soothing (and smells great.)  The creams don't take away the pain, in fact they usually add to the stinging, but they relieve the skin of it's dryness for a little bit.  And when I say little bit, I mean 10 - 15 minutes before my hand has dried out again.  I've started slathering my hand in cream and wearing a glove to try and keep the moisture against my skin for longer.  It works in it's own way.  However, I feel very silly walking around with one glove on and I can't do chores that involve food or washing with the cotton gloves on.  I've wondered if a pressure glove, like the ones burn victims wear, would be helpful.  They are tight on the skin and would prevent friction from anything else touching my sensitive skin.

I'm also trying a few herbal extracts that are suppose to be helpful.  So far, nothing has helped.  I'll get through these bottles of herbs and if nothing changes, I won't take them again.  I'm trying to cut sugar out of my diet.  I went four days without sugar this week.  Let me say that was not a good four days.  Despite getting rid of sugar and eating any sugary snacks, thus lowering my caloric intake by a good deal, I managed to gain four pounds.  WHAT'S UP WITH THAT???  I know that four days is nothing, but I had hoped it might make some sort of difference to my health, weight or skin, but all it accomplished was me being an awful witch during that fourth day.  Sometimes emotional health is more important.  Sooooo, I'm trying to go three days with no sugar and one day to enjoy a special sugary treat.  I think I can do that.  Three days is about my limit.  :)  Pathetic, I know.

OK, long post for my weird skin issues, but it is a 24/7 thing I deal with.  What a pain.

Life's funny little joys

One of life's funny little joys, by Molly - 

Reaching into your purse for one thing and finding a chocolate kiss.

Smart vs. Beauty OR Mom vs. Too-Smart of a Four Year Old

My soon-to-be 5 year old is smart.  She knows she is smart.  But, she loves to hear me tell her how smart she is.

She comments on how she was a smart baby. She requires that I agree with her.

She comments on how she is smart now because she can do _________ (fill in the blank with anything she knows how to do.)  Once again, I am required to agree with her or she will say it over and over again until I do.

She asks me things like, "Am I smarter than Sister?" to which I usually end up replying, you are both smart, but Sister is older and knows a lot more than you do.  And then she reminds me how smart she was as a baby.

She will announce to me some reason of logic she has come up with.  You can't tell her it is anything otherwise, even if her logic is completely off.  She will simply say, "I know, but___ (and restates her own logic.)  Arguing with her on this point is futile. I just smile and nod.

I didn't want my daughters to grow up with the idea that they should only be beautiful (even though they both are.)  I once read an interesting article written by a Dr. Mom in one of those highly over-priced parenting magazines that:  If we only tell our daughters how beautiful they are, they will think that beauty is the most important thing and they will not work to learn, go to school, or do anything of value with their life.  So, throughout their lives, I've told my daughters not only how beautiful they are, but how smart they are as well.  I've encouraged them to learn anything they want and become whatever they want because they are smart enough to do so.

I think I've created an overly-smart-smarty-pants of a four year old monster.

Growing Nuggets

Our chicken nuggets have grown a lot.  Each day they change and get bigger.  After the first week, they started to change.  They were quite ugly as their adult feathers started to sprout under their baby fuzz.  We joked at how they are going through the awkward teen stage.  They aren't quite so ugly anymore.  They still have some baby fuzz and sound like baby chicks, but they have many of their adult feathers. 

They are speedy fast and getting more difficult to catch.  We take them out of their bucket to clean out their stinky bucket each day.  If they day is sunny, we put them in the yard while we wash the tub.  They are happy chickies when we do this.  They are very unhappy when we catch them to put them back into their bucket.

Really, they are getting too big for their bucket, but we don't have anywhere else to put them yet.  We are hoping the weather will turn warm soon.  They keep pecking at their bucket, trying to escape.  We've also had to put a chicken wire lid on the bucket because they can hop out now.

We can't tell them apart anymore, not since they've gotten their real feathers.  I call each one Nugget.

A little time in the yard.

Really, they've changed a lot since this picture was taken 3 days ago.  It's amazing how fast they are growing.

The improv group's latest show

Today my teen improv group had their 4th performance.  It was at the local mall, on a stage, with sound equipment.  Yeah, we're going for the big time here!~

We had some technical difficulties and the first few sketches the kids did were completely inaudible.  But, with a little help from a friend, the mics started to work.  It was a lot of fun and a good learning experience for us all.

Check out my theater's website for pictures:  Teenprov! Performance

Meet our nuggets

We've got ourselves six little chicken nuggets.  They have survived two days and two nights with us.  They are getting lots and lots of love.  They have been given names.

Oldest son named his Mary Elena
Second son named his Berk
Oldest daughter named hers Fluffette
Youngest son named his Frosty
Youngest daughter named hers Rosalinda
I picked the final name and it is Nugget

They are almost impossible to tell them apart, but Berk does have a different pattern on her back that makes her a little easier to distinguish.  My husband attempted to 'mark' the chicks by dyeing two of them.  Frosty has some blue in his wings and Rosalinda is pink.  You can kind of see them in the pictures.  I just call them all Nugget.

I was getting ready to clean out their stinky bucket when I took this picture.  They didn't like the box I had for them....

They live in a bucket in the bathtub and will live there until they are big enough to be outside. I've never dealt with chickens before, so I don't know how long that will take. Three weeks, maybe??  Until then, they are super cute and oh so fluffy!!!

Lesson in sharing

I got a cold in my doze.

Thank you, my children, for showing me you have learned the lesson so well that I've spent so many years trying to teach you.  You have learned to share.

Unfortunately, you have learned to share your germs and I really didn't need those shared with me.

If you need me, just look for the pile of tissue.  I'm somewhere under there.

Peter Davison

This past weekend, I got to meet and get a picture with the actor Peter Davison.  I used to watch him back in the 80's on TV.  My Mom was a big fan of All Creatures Great and Small.  I would watch it with her. In the 80's I didn't know all that was going on in the show, but I remember the three main characters very well -James, Siegfried, and Tristan.  Tristan was always my favorite.  Years later I re-watched the show and found Tristan was still my favorite character. 

Peter Davison as Tristan Farnon

Later I found out he was also the 5th Doctor in Doctor Who, a favorite TV show in our family. 

So cool!  I got to meet Peter Davison!

Peter Davison.  Still a good looking guy.



The Fog

One Sunday, I was scheduled to park sit and woke up to a thick fog.  I carefully drove to the park to have the gate opened by  7:15am.  The park was covered in fog.  I couldn't see to the other side of the park.  It was cold, misty and just plain foggy.  Imagine my surprise when at 7:30, I see cars in the parking lot and people jogging along the trail.  I just wanted to shout, "Go home people, it is a foggy, miserable day!"

Thankfully for me, I had the park's maintenance office to spend the day in.  I'd go out every hour to check on things around the park.  I would make sure the bathrooms were clean, the trashes were empty and no one had started a fire in the shelter's fireplaces.  The shelters have fireplaces, but you are not allowed to have fires in them.  Go figure.

The fog didn't lift until about two in the afternoon and it was back by five.  It didn't matter, though.  The park was filled the entire day with dedicated park goers and joggers.  When the park closed at 5:30, it was almost dark and a thick fog laid across its open fields.  I actually had to go kick people out of the park.  Go home!  It is time for a blanket and a mug of hot cocoa.

The park sitter observes football

I am a park ranger.  Well, more of a park monitor or park sitter.  I work in county parks.  Not the great lovely national parks.  County parks, which are complete with baseball diamonds, soccer fields, play grounds, walking trails, wide open spaces to run in and shelters with picnic tables.

I've seen and done some interesting things.  I've only been working this job four months and only in the fall and winter.  I'm sure spring and summer will only bring more stories as people come out of their warm homes to the fresh, warm, humid air.

I came on in October.  The days were getting shorter and the nights cooler, but many days were still warm and pleasant.  It was mid-football season.  Football.  It is a highly misunderstood sport - by me.  I don't get it at all.  Why would anyone want to put on 10 lbs of plastic gear and run head first into someone else wearing 10 lbs of plastic gear? 

Apparently, I am not the only one baffled by this sport.  Each week, hanging out on the playground next to the football fields were four girls who looked to be the ages of 9-11.  They would sit on top of the monkey bars and talk.  I imagine they met at the first football game and formed the "I'm Stuck at the Playground and Bored Out of My Mind While My Dumb Brother Plays Football Club."  Similar clubs exist during baseball and soccer seasons.

My own brothers played soccer.  The first couple of years, I had to go to all the games.  Luckily for me, my best friend lived next door to my brothers best friend, who played on the same team as my brother.  She would often come to the games and we would hang out together.  Is that a best friend, or what?  She didn't have to come to the games, but she did, just so we could hang out together.

There were no bleachers at the field my brother played on.  You brought your own lawn chairs and blankets.  My friend and I would alternate watching the game, walking around the field, or sitting in the grass, making clover flower necklaces.

So, I feel for these sisters - drug off to games they have no interest in, sitting on the monkey bars with other sisters, plotting their revenge on their brothers.  Just wait until drill team starts, mister!

 

Texans Talk Weather

Texans love to discuss the weather.  When we greet each other, it goes something like this:

"Howdy, Buddy."
"Howdy, Joe."
"Quite the weather we've been having."
"Yep.  It's been nice today.  I'm glad it got up into the nineties to melt all the ice from yesterday's hail storm."
"Did you hear there is suppose to be a tornado tomorrow?"
"Yep.  Got my storm gear already set up in the bathroom."

Texans will even discuss the weather when they aren't in Texas.  I live in Virginia.  My grandmother lives in New York.  We are both Texan, born and raised.  When we talk on the phone, we take the time to discuss the weather in our states.  Then, we discuss the weather in Texas, where my parents still live.

When I talk to my dad, he will ask, "So, y'all been having some weather?"

I think Texans fascination with the weather goes back to when our lively-hood was depended upon the success of our cattle herds.  A close eye had to be kept on Texas's highly variable weather to ensure the safety of the herd.

"Hey Joe, did that tornady cause you any problems?
"Well, the house is gone, my wife was found in a tree two miles away, the barn is destroyed, but the herd is safe."

"Thank goodness for that."

Perhaps Texans discuss the weather because it can change from day to day, even hour to hour.  I remember, my childhood home faced north.  We would get these northern cold fronts and more than once, I watched storms as they approached the house.  You could stand on the door step, feel the wind pick up and watch as the storm travelled down the street towards the house.

"The storm is at Lizzie's house," I would announce to my mom.  "Now it's at the Johnsons.  Now it's two houses away.....  and now here it is!"  Cold wind and rain would rush through the door.

"Molly! Close that door.  You're letting the storm into the house!"

When I started driving, I had to drive my brother to an activity one summer afternoon.  It started pouring rain and rained so hard, I couldn't see the car in front of me.  The rain pounded on the car's roof, deafening in its noise.  I drove quite slowly, watching for the red lights of the car in front of me.

Texas weather.  There is nothing like it and Texans love to discuss their beloved insane weather.

Park Maintenance

Thankfully maintenance is not my job.  I have no interest in the upkeep of baseball fields, performing repairs, checking sprinkler systems, and the like.  Especially in the cold winters or hot summers.  I wouldn't mind mowing the grass on the soccer fields, IF it involved a riding lawn mower with a roof.

However, on the days I park sit, I am responsible for the trash cans.  I learned that certain parks, during football season, managed to collect tons of trash.  Ten huge trash barrels surround the field.  During the course of the day, each barrel fills with trash.  These barrels are as high as my waist and when full of trash, are quite heavy.  My job is to empty the barrels.  Somehow, I am required to maneuver  holding a trash bag over the barrel, pick the barrel up, hold it upside down and shake it until all the trash falls from the barrel and into the bag.

I am not strong or coordinated enough to do this successfully.  Most of the time, I manage to dump half of the trash onto the ground thanks to the bag slipping off the rim of the barrel while I was holding it upside down.  When this happens, I mumble a "gosh dang-it" and I stoop down to pick up the trash and throw it into the bag.  There are people all around, watching football games.  I'm sure that they find me much more entertaining than the game.  I'm waiting for them to bring their folding chairs over, sit in a semi-circle around the trash barrel and sip from their cans of soda while watching me as I attempt to be a good park sitter and empty the trash cans.  I am the new spectator sport. 

I developed a deep dislike of coffee one fall day.  A competition of cheerleaders was scheduled to begin at nine.  This meant that by 8:30, the parking lot was full and the park was populated by little girls in cheerleader costumes with their shivering moms in coats, clutching cups of gas-station coffee and cursing themselves for signing their daughters up for cheerleading in the first place.

By the end of the competition, at lunch-time, the day had warmed up to a pleasant temperature.  Coats had been shed, cheers had been cheered and trophies handed out.  They went home.  Football games would be starting soon, so I decided it would be a good time to collect the trash.

The trash barrels were filled with the coffee cups that had previously been the cold cheerleader mom's life line.  I'll never understand why they paid for a large coffee, only to drink half of it and throw the rest away.  By the time I had dumped the first trash barrel into the garbage bag and ground, I was covered in coffee.  The trash bags, which had no holes in them, were dripping cold coffee.  It just seeped through the plastic of the bags.  I put the trash bags into the bed of the park's golf car-like maintenance truck and drove them to the far side of the parking lot to the dumpsters.  I proceeded to toss the bags into the dumpsters, successfully managing to get even more coffee on me.  The truck bed had pools of tan-colored coffee in it. I left that mess for the park's maintenance people.  They can wash it out later.

I'm looking forward to summer, when the coffee cups will be replaced with sodas and the trash barrels will be swarming with bees.  Good times are yet to come.

Bedtime!

Getting kids to bed is a nightmare.

There is no "sweet dreams" when bedtime comes around.

Bedtime!

Suddenly there are books to bed read and notes from school to be signed.
Suddenly they are hungry for a night-night snack.  Pop-tarts are toasted and eaten.
Suddenly the kids have deep questions about life to ask.  What kind of home does a skunk have? What does a warthog eat?  Can I draw a picture of a spaceship tomorrow? What is a Mobius strip?  Are germs bacteria?  How do you manufacture things to be smooth?  Can you tuck me in?

One daughter goes to the bathroom about 6 times before she settles in for the night.
The same daughter will hug the Hubby and myself when we tell her it is bed time.  She will return later to ask us a question of sorts.  (See one of the questions above.)  She hugs us again.  She goes to use the bathroom for the first time and comes back to tell us good night.  We ask, did you brush your teeth?  She goes to brush her teeth.  She returns to tell us goodnight and get another hug.  If I happen to be wandering the house putting toys (laundry, dishes, etc.) away, she will come and find me for another goodnight hug.  As I walk past her room, she will call out goodnight again and blow me a kiss.  She gets up to go to the bathroom for the second and third time, each time returning to say goodnight.  JUST GO TO BED, ALREADY!

It's not that she is lonely, she shares a room with her 4 year old sister.  If she leaves the room too many times, little sister gets tired of waiting for her roommate and comes to find Hubby or myself to hold her.

Then, we hear them walking around for another half hour.  What are they doing?  My kids walk like elephants and you can hear their every footstep in the house.  It doesn't matter where you or they are in the house, you can hear them walking.  The 14 year old with size 12 feet is particularly bad about that.

We should send them to bed an hour earlier than their bedtime because it takes them that long.

Turtle Monkeys

Each morning, my kids and I hang out at our bus stop, waiting for the school bus.  We live in a forested area.  Being winter, all the leaves are gone and we can see into the dense trees, something you can't do during the other seasons.

I love to look for birds and squirrels as we stand there waiting for the bus.  As far as birds go, we have blue jays, robins, cardinals, sparrows, finches, and woodpeckers.  Squirrels run around the trees and we love to watch them.

For whatever reason, my youngest son began calling the squirrels 'turtle monkeys.'  Today he kept trying to tease me by pointing somewhere in the trees and calling out "There's a turtle monkey!"  And of course, I would look and he would laugh at me.  He asked me if turtles can jump.  No, I say, they can't.  The funny little ideas that go about in kids minds....

Several weeks ago while waiting for the bus, we saw a robin get run over by a car right in front of us.  Miraculously, the robin survived and flew away.  It must have gotten in between the wheels and tossed about by the wind current the car made.  Despite the happy outcome, it was rather traumatic to watch.

Stand at the bus stop.  Learn about life and death, jumping turtles, and the effects of cars on robins.

I can't believe it is February already.  If the groundhogs prediction is in any way accurate, the trees will start to bloom soon.  Spring was early last year and I remember by the end of March, I was planning my garden.  By April, I had been able to plant some things.  I guess it's time to start thinking about those things soon.  Happy Valentines Day!

Growing up

My kids are growing.  I keep telling them to stop growing up, but just like I ask them to keep their rooms clean, they are not doing what I've asked.  They continue to grow.

I like to hear my four and seven year olds have conversations.  They can be each others worse enemy, but they can also be the best of playmates.

For years, my seven year old has been wearing the same clothes.  Really, there are pictures of him when he was 4 and 5 and he is wearing the same clothes he is in today.  He has grown very little.  Last month, we realized his diet was mostly cereal and bread.  He dislikes most everything else.  There was very little protein going into his tiny body.  We started buying him those Boost shakes.  I noticed this week that the pants I bought him at the beginning of the school year are too short.  He's actually grown!  Still, I don't want him to grow up.

My twelve year old has reached my height.  He wasn't allowed to get taller than me!

I'm glad they aren't little anymore, though.  I like this age we are in now.  My oldest is a teen, but he can't drive yet.  My youngest isn't in school yet, but she's not a diaper-wearing toddler.  The others are nicely in between.  It's fun.  They are great.  I'm glad they are growing.

Dreaded birthday parties

I'm not a fan of birthday parties.  Never really have been.  Oh, I've done a few, especially when my first two children were small, but now, we hardly ever have them.  (This is one of those sad cases where my first children got special things like birthday parties and kids number 4 and 5 are lucky to get a frosted cake.)

My kids come home from school periodically with birthday party invitations.  If we're lucky, we've got something else going that day and they can't go.  Occasionally I'll "loose" the invitation or as I have with the last two parties, "forget" to RSVP.  I feel bad about doing that.  I really do, but the truth is, I hate taking my kids to birthday parties!

I hate shopping for a kid I've never met (as is the case with 90% of the invites that come home from school.)  Then, for the actual party, I either have to drop them off and remember to pick them up two hours later (yes, I forgot to pick up a kid once) or interrupt other activities with the other kids or family because it's time to go pick up the party kid.  OR, worse, I have to stay at the party, sitting with a paper cup of lemonade while a bunch of kids and parents I don't know run around like crazy.

Then, there are those parties where an event center is rented.  The food is good pizza, sodas and a huge hand-made fondant cake.  The mom looks calm and happy and is easily directing kids to various games and activities.  She never breaks a sweat as she hands out homemade designer cookies and goodie bags to make the Academy Award winners jealous.  You know the kind.

I am not one of those moms.  My kids laugh because for the last three years, or so, any and all attempts I've made at decorating a cake have been disastrous.  Really.  I tell them to quit complaining.  The cake might be ugly, but it tastes good.  So eat it!  One year, when my youngest son turned 5, I couldn't find any birthday cake candles.  I was sure I had some, but I could not find them.  Determined that he would blow out five candles on his cake, I got five red taper candles.  They put some massive holes in the already pathetically decorated cake, but he got to blow out his candles and make his wish.

Somehow, I think his wish was that I not make him a birthday cake in the future.

I never put pictures of my kids on my blog, but oh, if you could see my son's face in this picture....  He was not happy about this cake.

This past year I got smart with his birthday.  I bought him a cake!  Yes, one chocolate supermarket cake that cost $15.  I could have made him one for less than $4, but it wouldn't have been so beautifully decorated. I also made sure I had nice, little, normal birthday candles.  He was thrilled.

I got a little off topic, birthday parties.  I don't like them!  I don't do them for my kids, I probably won't attend the one for yours.  Don't take it personally.  It's not you, it's me.

Sometimes you just have to talk it all out...

Last post I questioned whether I should write or not.  I decided that I would keep writing until I didn't want to anymore.  And that happens.  I go in waves.  I'll go weeks or months and just write, write, write.  Then I'll go months without an idea.  Or I'll decide to work on another project.  Then I go back to writing.  It's all fine and good.  So, for now, I'll write until something else catches my attention.

I was feeling rather down, though, about my writing.  It's not the greatest literature out there, but it's not so bad either.  I've definitely read worse..... but today I got a bit of a boost.

At church, one of the ladies approached me and told me that her book club wants to read my book for next month's meeting and would I come to their meeting and talk.  REALLY??  Be a guest speaker at a book club? Awesome!  OK, she told me there are only 4 or so ladies in the book club, but still....  it's cool.  I was flabbergasted.  She told me she had just finished reading it last week and she thought it was a cute book.  That was certainly a boost I really needed.  It made me feel happy.

It's not easy being a mom.  Ninety nine percent of what we do goes completely unnoticed and unappreciated.  I have felt that I (that Molly) has almost ceased to exist.  Everything about who I am has been put on hold to raise kids and it might never resurface because it's been tucked away so long while.  We (I) need those little compliments once in a while.  Today I got a compliment for being Molly and it felt good.