tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56590026091143236972024-01-16T22:11:22.781-05:00The Writer ChicIt's a pretty basic boy meets girl with a happily ever after: a book-loving Writer Chic met and fell in love with the Lawn Boy-next-door (not literally). He doesn't like Shakespeare; I don't like lawnmowers. It works out great. ;) This is our story.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.comBlogger963125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-61870954873212947652023-05-20T11:23:00.004-04:002023-05-20T11:23:36.642-04:00Sister love<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrEdMZEMe6cDqaiQog9KBCH1kzPb1sxUZZJRBKQtGQLxnXdd5bv0DdV98lZ6A2EXshPHvfXlgkz_krsIoJmtxE46XQiRJ-oriuu-_NBFJU_ClcW-uFai4CJsfTy54rP7PRKtyqHus7zKW2Wtoo6uv8ZpFOqNtHOYsST7czHc427pEgJApAghvqK1w/s1920/duncan14letter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrEdMZEMe6cDqaiQog9KBCH1kzPb1sxUZZJRBKQtGQLxnXdd5bv0DdV98lZ6A2EXshPHvfXlgkz_krsIoJmtxE46XQiRJ-oriuu-_NBFJU_ClcW-uFai4CJsfTy54rP7PRKtyqHus7zKW2Wtoo6uv8ZpFOqNtHOYsST7czHc427pEgJApAghvqK1w/w476-h357/duncan14letter.jpg" width="476" /></a></div> <p></p><p>It is the day after the boy's birthday(s).</p><p>I was tidying Erin's room while gathering laundry, and found a loose balloon that has been floating around upstairs since Seth's varsity swim banquet six weeks ago. I was about to pop it when I realized it had been written on. I assumed it was a note left from one of Erin's friends; there has been a steady stream of teenage girls through our home in the weeks since her 13th birthday.</p><p>Imagine my surprise to read this:</p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>Happy 14th birthday, Duncan!</i></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>Words can't describe how much I miss you. I know I never met you, but I still love you with all of my heart. Sometimes I think about what you would have been like but it wouldn't compare to you actually being here. I would have liked you the best if you here.</i></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>I know you watch over me every day and I am so thankful for that. Almost every day, I wish you were here. I definitely wish for me to have met you, but I will one day. I can't process that you are 14 years old! Just know that you are missed very very much.</i></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>I also hope that your tree in Nashville is growing strong. I am so thankful that our church did that for you. I know that you are missed every day. I still wish that you were here with me, but you are watching me. I know that I keep repeating stuff, but it is because you are loved and missed greatly. </i></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>Fly high every day. Fly high. I love you so much! Happy birthday, Duncan!</i></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><i>with joy and love from your younger sister Erin</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i> </i>I mean, you guys. Really? She's mine? I half-created this amazing young woman? Just wow.<br /></p><p style="margin-left: 80px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"> </p><p><br /></p>The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-41884456611489294372022-09-11T00:16:00.002-04:002022-09-11T00:16:34.194-04:00Can I produce?<p>It's been awhile.</p><p> Is that allowed?</p><p> A word, methinks</p><p>but probably not.</p><p>I make rules</p><p>noone else follows</p><p>so "awhile" stays</p><p>and "three words"</p><p>lives another day,</p><p>I'm slightly tipsy.</p><p>Lemonade plus bourbon</p><p>plus mean kids</p><p>being mean kids</p><p>doesn't produce much</p><p>eloquent, biting prose.</p><p>Alas, typo-ed triplets,</p><p>while cue balls</p><p>clack in protest</p><p>and middle schoolers</p><p>fight mandatory bedtime.</p><p>What a Saturday.</p><p>I cleaned, cooked.</p><p>Laundered, shopped, pruned.</p><p>Packed, washed, folded.</p><p>Paid, plated, planned.....</p><p>Momming, wifeing, womaning</p><p>at its finest.</p><p>I'd like sleep</p><p>to come end</p><p>this long day.</p><p>Before I can </p><p>regret the email</p><p>that winged away</p><p>to Costa Rica</p><p>via mi madre</p><p>to es hombre.</p><p>Are you kdding?</p><p>I failed Spanish.</p><p>But I did</p><p>write the email</p><p>to my brother</p><p>for his birthday</p><p>just to say</p><p>happy birthday and</p><p>I hope you </p><p>find happiness forever,</p><p>You can know</p><p>someone barely, really,</p><p>and still wish</p><p>their birth day</p><p>celebration to be</p><p>one of happiness.</p><p>Three words are</p><p>so much easier</p><p>to string together</p><p>than more than</p><p>three words together.</p><p>Funny, isn't it?</p><p>Now it's tomorrow.</p><p>I supposed that</p><p>releases me from</p><p>trying to find</p><p>a clever and</p><p>cohesive way to</p><p>wrap this us.</p><p>Good night, moon.</p><p>Good night, all. <br /></p>The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-17473838112561878522021-07-27T15:13:00.003-04:002021-07-27T15:13:20.247-04:00Well, hello there, new friends....<p> Today (Tuesday July 27), an unremarkable day in itself, is important here on this dusty, decrepit blog, because today, I had an independent <a href="https://toledo.momcollective.com/when-mom-says-no/" target="_blank">piece</a> published on a <a href="https://toledo.momcollective.com/" target="_blank">site</a> on which I'm a contributing writer. Under the piece is my bio, which has a link to this blog (yikes!) and anyone who stumbles over here either by intent or accident is going to be sorely disappointed in the more recent content.</p><p>I've never really explained why things went radio silent over here. I've made excuses, and alluded to goings-on that I couldn't -- or wouldn't -- write about.</p><p>And I still can't/won't, at least not right now. They are deeply personal, and deeply painful, and deeply private for myself and for a lot of my family. I had tiptoed closer to the edge of being able to write about some things, with much help of my trusted and cherished therapist, and then COVID took him away from me (via early retirement, thankfully, not illness) and I've regressed, a lot, in dealing with my own response to both recent and repressed traumas..... anyways, I'm being vague and scattered, and that wasn't the point of this point.</p><p>The point was merely to say, to those who are new to The Writer Chic, that there is some REALLY good content and some writing that I'm really proud of in the archives of this blog. It was started in 2007, so, yay me, I was on the original cutting edge of what blogging was "back in the day." My readership was most significant during the months that followed Duncan's pregnancy, birth, and death, but tapered off..... but so did my posting, there was no surprise there. Then Instagram was born, and I turned to a microblogging of sorts over there (my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/mrsmsg/" target="_blank">profile</a> is public, so there are more gems to be mined over there, too), and the blog stayed untouched.</p><p>I can't promise there will be new content here much. I'll share all the pieces that get published at Toledo Moms, but I'm not sure (what's new) what's gonna happen over here at this little dot com of mine.</p><p>So again, if you landed here anew, hi! I hope something in the archives brings you a recipe or DIY hack, some inspiration or insight, or just a smile. I'm a pretty open book (minus all the private, still-needs-talk-therapy stuff aforementioned), so... have a look around. Also, my love language is unashamedly words of affirmation, so don't be a stranger and feel free to say hi in the comments.<br /></p><p>I'm gonna sign off for now and go stick my toes in the sand! Yay for summer beach vacation!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPUu1mF6yNn6O4xiuYSw0w8HGBanzZlztkpifmlbypOHZ2XrmGBN3J3xRGjUeBw01_jMFKBX1xmoBpOc6x3px_En6pXyRLUoowS43xK9jP8nfZApY8h8R2bJ962mLcLAB-YHRTEIBw-I/s2048/5F9038D4-ECB5-4471-9406-9B08E09C2C1B_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1356" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPUu1mF6yNn6O4xiuYSw0w8HGBanzZlztkpifmlbypOHZ2XrmGBN3J3xRGjUeBw01_jMFKBX1xmoBpOc6x3px_En6pXyRLUoowS43xK9jP8nfZApY8h8R2bJ962mLcLAB-YHRTEIBw-I/w424-h640/5F9038D4-ECB5-4471-9406-9B08E09C2C1B_1_201_a.heic" width="424" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-57965535843908007832020-10-28T10:36:00.001-04:002020-10-28T10:36:31.490-04:00Starting Over Again<p> "Hallelujah" starts playing.</p><p>The sad one</p><p>with major lifts.</p><p>Fitting, I supose.</p><p> Opened Blogger, counting.</p><p>Verified for Instagram</p><p>the 960 entries.</p><p>This makes 961</p><p>if I publish.</p><p>One would think,</p><p>COVID equals TIME.</p><p>Words should've poured.</p><p>"Document it all!"</p><p>Hah. As if.</p><p>Keeping children fed,</p><p>bathed, educated, stimulated.</p><p>That took everything.</p><p>I was spent.</p><p>Words didn't come.</p><p>They still don't.</p><p>Not really, anyways.</p><p>But, today, again.</p><p>I start over.</p><p>I type words.</p><p>One, two, three.</p><p>It's a start.</p><p>Also. A goodbye.</p><p>Book of Truth,</p><p>no more Neeb.</p><p>I'm not ready.</p><p>Please don't retire,</p><p>It's too late.</p><p>House is listed.</p><p>Email is revoked.</p><p>He's left me.</p><p>Not his fault,</p><p>but still gone.</p><p>So, new guy.</p><p>Last name unpronounceable.</p><p>Going with Gary.</p><p>Hope he's good.</p><p>Hope he's brave.</p><p>I've got baggage</p><p>and it's heavy.</p><p>His turn now</p><p>to help process.</p><p>heal, rally, persevere.</p><p>Mental health matters. </p><p>Grief. PTSD. Insomnia.</p><p>My "other" trifecta.</p><p>Flip flops on.</p><p>Fancy earrings in.</p><p>Left off mascara.</p><p>I've got this.<br /></p>The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-5626830369393249872017-09-29T15:45:00.000-04:002017-09-29T15:45:04.511-04:00The problem remainsI have "writer's block" not because I have nothing to say, or even because I don't know how to say what I have to say.<br />
<br />
I sit paralyzed in front the keyboard because I never intended to use this blogging platform as a place to air my dirty laundry.<br />
<br />
But what do you do when the things that are indelicate to talk about have grossly outweighed all the "appropriate" topics?<br />
<br />
I could show you my fall home decor, but I'd rather tell you about how much it hurts that I don't have the kind of friends who will drop in for a quick chat or favor, and end up staying for dinner or a bonfire. And maybe it's me, or maybe it's society these days. Either way, I think it's rude when people pull in your drive and don't even turn off their vehicle engine. Maybe their intent is efficiency, but it translates to "I am very important and you are not, and I am so busy and important I can not even let the dust settle before I must go be busy and important with people who are not you." <b>I am lonely.</b><br />
<br />
I could tell you that we are going to the homecoming game tonight, and how excited I am, and how perfect the weather is for a Friday night football battle, but I'd rather be honest about how tired I am, after running errands and being responsible all day, when the two people I most love to spend time with got to spend <i>their</i> days enjoying the weather and choosing the companionship of other friends. <b>I am jealous.</b><br />
<br />
I could tell you how much I'm looking forward to my "girls' night out" birthday dinner this weekend, but what emotions I'm really tamping down are sadness and bitterness and self-pity for reasons that I'm not going to share here because even in my hurt, I'm protecting everyone else. <b>I am woefully acommodating.</b><br />
<br />
This is so pointless....<br />
<b> </b><br />
No one is reading any more.<br />
<br />
My wisdom dried up with my baby loss posts, and these recent attempts don't benefit anyone.<br />
<br />
But I wrote for a week; I met my goal.<br />
<br />
And now I can go back to just paying a doctor to deal with the mess in my head.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-49367694192535659202017-09-28T23:09:00.001-04:002017-09-28T23:09:40.332-04:00Eleventh Hour DeadlineDefinitely not habitual.<br />
<br />
Writing anything today?<br />
<br />
Completely off radar.<br />
<br />
Instead, lunch date.<br />
<br />
Overdue, anticipated, celebratory.<br />
<br />
Queso, pear martini,<br />
<br />
Favorite Alex's salad.<br />
<br />
Arrived home only<br />
<br />
slightly before bus.<br />
<br />
Homework, soccer, backpacks...<br />
<br />
at least THIS<br />
<br />
drill is habitual.<br />
<br />
PJs, Grey's, then<br />
<br />
charcoal mask, Ambien.<br />
<br />
But a reminder:<br />
<br />
write your blog.<br />
<br />
Fine. You win.<br />
<br />
Now, I'll sleep.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-30853242009495637452017-09-27T22:55:00.001-04:002017-09-27T22:55:12.578-04:00Almost missed itWasted all day<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Reading books again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe not wasted</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But not productive. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A White Russian</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or two maybe</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As the day</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Was seemingly more</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Than I could</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
survive without fortification. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Made it halfway</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Through the week. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cheers to me!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lunch date tomorrow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Gift card redemption</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Via steak Maui.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Happy birthday, me!</div>
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-31760718805632839212017-09-26T21:09:00.000-04:002017-09-26T21:09:48.347-04:00A Simple TuesdayLast night: inspired.<br />
<br />
Today: writer's block.<br />
<br />
Kindle download instead.<br />
<br />
Trilogy. One down.<br />
<br />
Second immediately followed.<br />
<br />
Afternoon passed, reading.<br />
<br />
Air brakes hiss,<br />
<br />
trio plus one<br />
<br />
invades the quiet.<br />
<br />
Novel begrudgingly paused:<br />
<br />
must chase dog,<br />
<br />
chasing two boys<br />
<br />
behind the barn,<br />
<br />
over the creek,<br />
<br />
into the soybeans,<br />
<br />
breaking her boundaries.<br />
<br />
Please, no ticks.<br />
<br />
Dog, son, friend --<br />
<br />
home, albeit dirty.<br />
<br />
Burgers, soccer, spelling,<br />
<br />
showers, nightlight, kisses.<br />
<br />
Sister prompts: blog?<br />
<br />
I'd rather read,<br />
<br />
but comply instead.<br />
<br />
String word triplets<br />
<br />
into this post.<br />
<br />
Not my finest,<br />
<br />
but that's alright.<br />
<br />
It is something<br />
<br />
to mark today.<br />
<br />
A new author.<br />
<br />
A quiet afternoon.<br />
<br />
Orange tee shirts<br />
<br />
on a quest,<br />
<br />
puppy in pursuit.<br />
<br />
Back-to-back<br />
<br />
blog posts published.<br />
<br />
Not habitual yet,<br />
<br />
but a start.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-19976455130956418082017-09-25T14:19:00.001-04:002017-09-25T14:19:52.059-04:00One more timeOh, why not?<br />
<br />
Maybe this time.<br />
<br />
Will it stick?<br />
<br />
I miss it.<br />
<br />
You might read.<br />
<br />
(You might not.)<br />
<br />
Discipline is healthy.<br />
<br />
Writing trumps exercise.<br />
<br />
(In my book.)<br />
<br />
This isn't poetry,<br />
<br />
haiku, or sonnet.<br />
<br />
Not Shakespeare, Hemingway,<br />
<br />
or even Suess.<br />
<br />
It's just me.<br />
<br />
Trying yet again<br />
<br />
to get back<br />
<br />
to that girl<br />
<br />
who once wrote<br />
<br />
all the things,<br />
<br />
all the words,<br />
<br />
no matter what.<br />
<br />
No matter who<br />
<br />
read the posts.<br />
<br />
Or even if.<br />
<br />
I've said before<br />
<br />
"she's still here."<br />
<br />
Ten years ago,<br />
<br />
I started blogging.<br />
<br />
My mom journey<br />
<br />
was just beginning.<br />
<br />
Here I am,<br />
<br />
my caboose child<br />
<br />
gone to kinder.<br />
<br />
The house, quiet.<br />
<br />
The cursor, beckoning.<br />
<br />
The web, transformed,<br />
<br />
unrecognizable from 2007.<br />
<br />
Everyone's doing it.<br />
<br />
Actually, <i>done</i> it.<br />
<br />
Now, it's podcasts.<br />
<br />
Maybe that'll come.<br />
<br />
For now, typing.<br />
<br />
Words and spacing.<br />
<br />
Black and white.<br />
<br />
Familiar, these strokes.<br />
<br />
Baby steps, perhaps.<br />
<br />
Three words only,<br />
<br />
each line is.<br />
<br />
But strung together?<br />
<br />
Look! She writes!<br />
<br />
A post appears...<br />
<br />
<br />
***************<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Once upon a time, I had a label "Your 3 Words." It was someone else's concept, and I only did it twice before today. But I thought it might be an easy way back into this writing groove I so desperately want to wear into my days. Here is an attempt, this week. Each day, a Your-3-Words post to jump start this ancient, rusty, neglected girl back into commission.</i><br />
<br />
Wish me luck.<br />
<br />
See you tomorrow.<br />
<br />
You can comment.<br />
<br />
I won't mind.<br />
<br />
Really. Go ahead.<br />
<br />
It might help.<br />
<br />
Hint hint hint. ;)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-2997498819547521212016-09-17T10:21:00.000-04:002016-09-17T10:21:42.291-04:00RustyCan I admit something?<br />
<br />
I wasn't even sure I'd be able to publish this post, because I wasn't sure I remembered my account login information! There was a tiny part of me that hoped I'd forgotten it, so that I could have a continued excuse as to why this piece of my lifeblood has fallen silent.<br />
<br />
But. Alas. Same ol' user name. Same ol' password. And we are back in business.<br />
<br />
We're going to skip the newsworthy and profound and eloquent today, as we ease back in, and I am shamelessly going to steal the idea of <a href="http://www.nieniedialogues.com/2016/09/weekend-plans.html" target="_blank">Stephanie Nielson merely sharing her weekend plans</a>.<br />
<br />
The weather is dictating a forced hibernation day, so here is what is on my docket for Saturday:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>breakfast as a family -- toaster strudel and cocoa pebbles</li>
<li>gearing Erin up for a soccer game -- even though we know she'll get to the field and they will cancel on account of rain</li>
<li>laundry -- but the relaxed kind, with fabric softener, not the "quick wash" loads that come from needing soccer socks and jersey tops in 27 minutes</li>
<li>hosting a surprise 40th birthday dinner tonight -- steak and potatoes and a requested ice cream cake</li>
<li>burning a new candle -- Cider Lane, to be exact</li>
<li>praying over the <a href="http://www.lproof.org/events" target="_blank">Beth Moore Living Proof Live </a>event going on in Chicago.... something that has become near and dear super fast (more on that to come!)</li>
<li>organizing my earring holder</li>
<li>sketching out a floor plan for our basement remodel-- dare I say the finishing work may begin sooner than later?!</li>
</ul>
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-76628297824120548352016-02-05T00:17:00.000-05:002016-02-05T00:17:17.787-05:00WestminsterI read recently that you should not stay in bed for longer than 20 minutes, trying to fall asleep.<br />
<br />
I just heard the third quartet of chimes from our grandfather clock, so I figured it was time to get up and at least do something, rather than to continue to toss and turn, my jaw clenching tighter and tighter in frustration as sleep continued to evade.<br />
<br />
I'm shocked at how painfully bright my computer screen is when the rest of the house is in total darkness. Well, not total. My kiddos, while not necessarily afraid of the dark, sleep with no less than 3 lava lamps aglow, not to mention various other nightlights and low-watt lamps. So there is a nice mid-day shine coming from the upstairs hallway.<br />
<br />
I have the most random of thoughts vying for center stage tonight.<br />
<br />
I miss my grandmother. I wish she were alive to see me as a grown woman, and to meet my children. But I'm also thankful that she didn't live long enough to see two of her three children die prematurely in middle age.<br />
<br />
I wonder what my friends living across the globe are doing right now. Kendra, in Kuwait, and Charlotte in London, and my nine-day-old niece in Japan.<br />
<br />
I imagine what people on airplanes right now are engaged in. Are they flying for business, for pleasure? Neither? I think about all the times I've flown... For weddings, funerals, job interviews, vacations. Air travel, when you really stop to think about it, is mind boggling.<br />
<br />
The woman that I would have considered to be my best friend during some milestone years of my life is someone I haven't seen since 2007. That's crazy to me. She was my matron of honor, I hosted her baby shower. I remember trudging through so many inches of snow the day she and her husband moved into their first house; I smile to think of the picnic basket of tacos they brought to Jim and me the day we moved into OUR first home. I remember what I was wearing the day her daughter was born; I remember what I was wearing the last time we saw one another. We are friends on Facebook, and mail each other Christmas cards. But I wonder if we can pick up again... I know we can't go back. I'm not sure I'd want to. But I miss her, and what we were, and what we could have stayed, if not for life.....<br />
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My head hurts so much. I've taken to clenching my jaw at night. I've been given a deadline by my dentist to get it under control naturally before I need to pursue a night guard. Attempts to "deal with it" are not going well.<br />
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Oh, hey, there is the clock again.<br />
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I totally understand how people become addicted to substances. I do. I have a very real temptation right now to raid Tiff's stash of Ambien and Percocet just so I can sleep for a few hours and get out of my head, and stop the endless loop of to-dos and I wonders that fill my mind.<br />
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I have MOPS in the morning, and then a full night of entertaining my eldest children, and then I need to remember that I have to prep toppings for a taco bar to take to the Crisis Pregnancy Center on Monday, but to do that before I go to our college ministry for a superhero party we are throwing for a 1st grader who is dying of bone cancer, and also Seth's teacher wants to have a progress meeting and Erin's class needs juice boxes for her Valentine's Day party and is James even HAVING a Valentine's party, and I wonder if the girls' weekend to Chicago is still happening or maybe my friends just decided to go without me and that's why I haven't heart any more about the trip and speaking of friends, I wonder if I'm ever actually going to make any here in our new area. I mean, there are some acquaintances, but no one super close, except Connie, I love her, but we need to find a way to see each other more. And I wonder if the school just had an over abundance of volunteers for the Daddy Daughter dance on Friday, or if no one called me because they don't know who I am? I need to to remember to take Tiff's sushi out of the fridge before trash day; she won't be able to eat it because of drill. I can't believe she has to be at drill on Superbowl Sunday. Wow, Superbowl Sunday last year was insane. James had his broken arm and we were going into the blizzard and Sean and Chrissy came over for the game, and now we don't even talk to them, really, and that is sad. But I don't really hear from anyone in Sylvania anymore, so I guess that's normal.<br />
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And OH MY GOSH do you see why my jaw hurts?<br />
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That's just a teeny tiny portion of what is going through my head when I try to sleep. And that isn't even the BIG stuff. The really yucky, I'm-in-therapy-for stuff that I don't talk about here.<br />
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Speaking of things I don't talk about on my blog anymore....<br />
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Remember how much I wrote after Duncan was born? Yeah, I miss writing like that.<br />
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I think I was emotionally healthier when I was able to write like that. I don't think I'm feeling any less these days than I was then. I just had a heck of an easier time getting those feelings out. Gosh. 7 years ago.<br />
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7 years ago, we moved to Tennessee, and I found out I was pregnant, and met Dr. Morgan and the people at WHFBC and started to learn how to be a stay at home mom, and drove to Louisville to see my Daina because she was about to have her twins, and, oh, I miss my Daina, too. She's one of those people who I could drive to right this minute and just stand on her porch and when she opened the door, she would just know why I was there and what I needed, and I will say til I die that the best think the internet ever gave me was her friendship.<br />
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More random? Okay.<br />
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We thought our puppy was spayed when we got her at 9 weeks old. She wasn't. I bought cloth diapers today. For my dog. Because she is in heat and bleeding all over my house and furniture. Fun times. And let me tell you, her milkshake is bringing quite the collection of boys to our yard, if you know what I mean. Seriously. Homegirl has some super pheromones going on over here.<br />
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Clock, again. Gah. But my eyes feel tired.<br />
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Let's try this again. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-45165285753339867292015-12-31T23:20:00.000-05:002015-12-31T23:20:03.617-05:002015<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;">2015.</span></b></div>
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The year I didn't write a single blog post, until the eleventh hour. Literally.</div>
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The year James broke his arm.....but I didn't know it, because I was too preoccupied with his cracked-open head. (Mother of the year, right here.)</div>
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The year I helped pull off epic 1st grade classroom parties. (Same mother of the year, also here. lol) </div>
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The year that I spent more nights than I can count driving Tiff to the ER. The year I was reminded of how much of a rock star Dr. Gibbs is. </div>
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The year we I finally started to feel the inklings of belonging at our church.</div>
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The year I said goodbye to Secluded Court,</div>
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and hello to #<a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/whitehouseblackroad/" target="_blank">whitehouseblackroad</a>.</div>
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The year I said "yes" to a puppy.</div>
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(imagine there is a darling picture here. It's not that I don't have one...it's that I'm fighting with the Internet right now.)</div>
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The year I watched Seth say goodbye to another best friend. </div>
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The year my daughter reached the milestone of five years of age.</div>
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The year I had to send Tiff away for duty and country. It was awful.</div>
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The year that I immersed myself in the creative kitchen, while feeling little glimpses of a culinary dream slip through my fingers like sugar.</div>
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The year I suffered through first day jitters right along with my littles as I ushered them into a brand new school system where we knew no one.<br />
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The year that marked a decade as a Gregory with a dream-like California getaway.<br />
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<b>2015</b>.<br />
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The year that I showed the world this smile:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuSWa99qnOuRo7OHNKn7fxXaAN31xdzZneUf8aEpOvN8JG6qzGAANFLPNlF6UPECzRwJDQ05ArE4wT-yXHw5aFaTOrhoMbujgGf8YU5GtdUfT-4yhji7HJJZJNUnTa_rDxQ20Hfs20jk/s1600/IMG_9316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuSWa99qnOuRo7OHNKn7fxXaAN31xdzZneUf8aEpOvN8JG6qzGAANFLPNlF6UPECzRwJDQ05ArE4wT-yXHw5aFaTOrhoMbujgGf8YU5GtdUfT-4yhji7HJJZJNUnTa_rDxQ20Hfs20jk/s400/IMG_9316.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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..but in all actuality, masked this daily reality:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqD1mwRC2HFEMqsMOgGwRaEXqKRkDnMcRBrK8Y_kdljaUA1MHSTIu97ltS2h9dnpNeQkyvEAqfUUN_w2iUEpecjVwh4gkBuZPCh50hE2dLDoL7GxjwoN53NdwU4UPwt8NiGR6IqeDnXs/s1600/IMG_8362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqD1mwRC2HFEMqsMOgGwRaEXqKRkDnMcRBrK8Y_kdljaUA1MHSTIu97ltS2h9dnpNeQkyvEAqfUUN_w2iUEpecjVwh4gkBuZPCh50hE2dLDoL7GxjwoN53NdwU4UPwt8NiGR6IqeDnXs/s400/IMG_8362.JPG" width="300" /></a><br />
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<b>2015</b>. The year I was more weary, more ill, more anxious, more sorrowful, more lost, more broken, more lonely than I've ever been in my life.</div>
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The year that I "got it all," at least according to the outside looking in. A healthy family, a beautiful new home and land, a "live-in nanny" (still, quite possibly the most laughable misconception anyone has ever had about us!), adorable children, a healthy marriage....</div>
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I have a healthy family and a beautiful home and I'm not going to bother defending the treasure that Tiff-in-my-home is to me because no one will ever really get it. My kids are adorable and my marriage is strong.</div>
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But.</div>
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Pieces of me died agonizing deaths in 2015. Relationships were severed, some merely atrophied, some are strangely ambiguous even as I type. I saw things I never dreamed I'd see; I thought things I'd deny if you asked me outright; I wished for things that you'd raise your eyebrow at, I know.</div>
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When I started this post, I thought that being vulnerable and transparent would be cathartic. I thought that opening this virtual notebook to pen the inner-workings of my heart would be healing and freeing. It hasn't been. Not really.</div>
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But maybe it isn't supposed to be, not tonight.</div>
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Maybe it isn't supposed to be a healing balm until I look back on this entry in future months and years, when I'm on the other side of the ill, the anxious, the sad, the broken.</div>
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It is the deepest longing of my heart that I can stand at this exact kitchen counter 366 days from now, and tell a different tale. But even if not..... I'll continue to embrace this life, and accept this is my story to live out.</div>
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-2882814858289982462014-08-18T00:17:00.001-04:002014-08-18T00:17:51.449-04:002014 Back-to-School Bash<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uv7U8iKXiB3XJadm64_7kFDEt1FW0cfwOhuvgNE2uyD6Kqa7WMabHN2ub1GG4IJ57ktEJeMeTI2oKKOMkoumVlEBTV1xFwh0lUoKtEJlggzKc1bt5IZoz2fjsu2lY-U8EZeqwiTA9T8/s1600-h/Cover%252520shot%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="title" border="0" alt="title" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOkJZz_agnMx3TjbdhZuPnOHY-Le1pG_2PGTXUuip5Y0RdnOr4xgPMOsXNiqGw1H5gijUJDyEKEDOwDKmG969PDpS9xr39HVpKvEIz1xJmTosQN1Fhn5SL5ETJRIXJjFBuIP7OsyojU4//?imgmax=800" width="584" height="394" /></a> </p> <p>I’ll save you the preamble of excuses as to why the blog has gone silent, and just jump in, because, hello… I threw a pretty awesome party (ahem, if I do say so myself!) and I just have to share it with you all!</p> <p>But, first, the “WHY.”  (Isn’t that what most motivational speakers tell you first and foremost, is to “find your ‘why’”? ) Well, here is mine: <strong>CHANGE.</strong></p> <p>Our poor kinders….they, collectively endured a LOT of change this summer with a staggering number of families moving away (like thousands-of-miles-away) from our tight-knit, small-town community.  So theses kiddos, who’d all grown so close, not only were anticipating new classmates as they enter 1st grade this coming Thursday, but were also so very sad to be losing close friends this summer.</p> <p>So, enters my idea to host a playdate towards the end of the summer, once the homeroom teachers were assigned.  Well.  My playdate sort of took on a life of its own, and a full-blown back-to-school backyard bash began to take shape.</p> <p>And let me be honest….it was no small task to pull off.  BUT.  I did it.  And I did it well.  And now I’m going to share with you all the things I learned along the way to help ease the process.</p> <p><font size="3">1.  <strong><u>Plan in advance</u>.</strong></font></p> <p>Oh, my girlfriends mocked me.  Oh, yes they did, when the Facebook event invite was sent out in late June.  “WHY are you planning a back-to-school party?  Summer just started!”  But, I knew.  I knew what I wanted this event to be, and I knew that I needed people to save the date, and to get on board with the idea of a get-together the last Friday of summer vacation.  Planning this far out also gave me time to play around with the exact timing of the party, to see what worked best for the majority of the families.  Sadly, I wasn’t able to accommodate the full-time working parents, but listening to the feedback of my invited guests, and opening up the timeframe from 10 AM to 3 PM gave the majority of parents and children a chance to attend, if not all of, than at least some of, the event.</p> <p><font size="3">2. <strong><u>Create a welcoming presence</u>.</strong></font></p> <p>Many of the families attending had never been to my home.  And let’s be honest….we’ve all done the drive-by when we are looking for a new-to-us house number.  So I wanted to have something visible to say, “Yep, party’s here!!!”</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZwirpCgsBgQ9pMjd67Kzwc_208W8yxZr8cx7mGoiZcDgTGbpV941TrEuLMn4AXpMNK1bt8zjYM6iILB8w3ZmGdjr2OFg9sWQDQV5sRjzOFsmCwQ0-9nnIwXp-kRTekV3K93SuixwmR8/s1600-h/1621946_10152672355482806_6070339921041286163_n%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="door wreath" border="0" alt="door wreath" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLKjBNROe-UgvZjl4Ct8r81zd7kuHYW3DcgvcrCe0eMnunQ57ewC97OdWuurXpKHoqNR0C66n-JhoirCvrHiJYW3N14OLLfiy8Fm8zHg-Bo3czwZiBTpNqbWDgNOfzw-Qch98gWtawDE//?imgmax=800" width="380" height="564" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwnJs_4JzJZCE_gHye2L_OkWCTSMl4gNFgyWjQbSgDgQXG0kJRU0elUYTrzO4-teuA8FPWjg5jExb70BqCGu_Lm_3KNHeZLU9HGLu86QC7GAokJ8t59kUhcpWBx4UbCVSBqriIgOCcoM/s1600-h/10402982_10152672355557806_9163772172959277900_n%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="ikea easel" border="0" alt="ikea easel" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEA6FOUg7hOm57JKS7qbz5UIkFhA7qD_G2tuhZ9nyD64ZjK_aiJYQ9tRhmpE915F5YulasMMUdjI7AwJsGKSyUgoSPdpOipfJcoDxaffHwfppKJ7fOBLX7mZ-mfwIZUZaLinQ5YC7tOHc//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a>A few embellishments tucked into my versatile, always-changing wreath gave a true “September” vibe, and some creative chalk art on our IKEA easel, placed in a visible, prominent spot near our driveway, welcomed our guests as they arrived.</p> <p><font size="3">3.  <strong><u>Use what you have</u>.</strong></font></p> <p>I can’t stress this point enough.  Nothing spoils a party faster than “buyer’s remorse” over the cost incurred to throw said party.  Other than one semi-extravagant purchase (we’ll get to that point), I spent VERY little on this mega-party.</p> <p>For some of my welcome decor, I placed red apples on hydrangea leaves (that I clipped from my front bushes that morning) onto the tray of the easel.  Cost: <strong><u>FREE</u></strong>.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DPGwMUtvAAErTSGLPmolXbx44LXUJecbWzKDADc-3NSCcgxtmXb2c7P_aGrQGbRASGZUa-Bzi0Lv3_pYnxVnoZD8io3IIGv0wAFVYYmVADUK4RnZCYI2sAV1ET0sqshOGgvkiMsCdFQ/s1600-h/10614313_10152672355502806_4144441495570937435_n%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="apples close up" border="0" alt="apples close up" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0r6soX36-HF3CgvfXrioUJSODAlNyeOWEr5FGGbDvwJcgIdLE5QTm0KpsBNxAptIlvwPWPNGSUsA8iVb9EuWyAqpgzjnmcBDhADGMK9qZLdy8zvLxLYGuGg2yZNIAkBQtYOmWO32kKY//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a></p> <p>For the main tablescape, I gathered items from my office and playroom.  Some Dr. Suess books; mason jars of pencils, markers, and paintbrushes; a globe; some toy school busses; small American flags…. all of these things were pulled from other rooms in my home – all <strong><u>FREE</u></strong> – and all perfect for the all-American, classroom look I wanted.</p> <p>I unrolled a length of craft paper down the center of the table, not only to protect from cake frosting, but to add a layer of visual interest after I quickly penned the upper and lowercase alphabet onto the surface.  Again, <strong><u>FREE</u></strong>.  The ONLY expense I incurred with this table decor almost doesn’t even count, since I’m not one to shy away from the self-indulgent splurge of grocery store flowers. For $4.99, I purchased a half-dozen sunflowers, added more of my own (free!) hydrangea stems, and placed them in a (free!) mason jar that I surrounded with some (free!) No. 2 pencils I merely secured with washi tape.</p> <p>Again, I can’t reiterate this point enough: <u>USE WHAT YOU HAVE</u>.  You’d be surprised at how quickly and easily you can pull together an impressive table with little to no cost!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GGPpETWsngCXcibpmI5SZtL_RtazhRSxJCeYAXRGoyOmKz998MNiW8Vbc_kzs34mEzs-w2D0PRTXnQ-jzPUfwmII4dvVT-EZQvlU1VnmCQEb_YqgJfPZTScWxoieDxUblEsv2_WuUv4/s1600-h/1743547_10152672356037806_2644564128552631366_n%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="tablescape1" border="0" alt="tablescape1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrSkQpKXp2DB_TKGT-GjWGcYakRlxn4z5VMABqTL3MzZIerJvOAU-AfgMf1XK_5bXmrKgXjTC-9CeRoC-Wt5Nzh6YATu3nFUOeRbbGNXOBi_-jjYfNfyY1HQAN_sR1QsBkGD2Vx6S7q0//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a>              </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><font size="3">4.  <strong><u>Pray for good weather</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>Okay, in all fairness, I realize this can’t really be a MUST DO, because weather is one of the things that will be completely out of your control.  That said, I felt it worth mentioning because it is something to most definitely consider.</p> <p>In my case, there was no “back up plan” in case of foul weather.  My back up plan, sadly, would have been a cancellation.  I simply would not have been able to fit 70 people in my house – especially given that 50+ of those people are 6 or 7 years old. ;)  That said.  We were VERY blessed with a gorgeous, unheard-of-67-degrees-in-August, sunshiny day.  But again.  Have a back up plan.  You just never know.</p> <p>  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ36xF0DIYqA61FPJ4HfBJ90FJhOfJ-VUIlL-XgZxJVckyzyyL1B1vUlS8hO5bPHGfLgbXLtPSW-Zk5gPMEgld3gKA1pVXwAO5mtxjNyIf203iaWW9XOknFK-gxjAer8AG-T8BHT8-2TE/s1600-h/10599518_10152672358557806_29857550673755835_n%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="bouncy thing" border="0" alt="bouncy thing" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUk4qG9rrL0XlsdEfaqeQrt209qDhs7oN0qrHYhwFX1m6IzDNYwgPgSGupI9dqyNxynPrPOVJGw7UjQYPRaVSqKdtGEaOAulgkVaFJhH612qvROI7g9IPvchHAtLShgS0SDGdU5CEgQo//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a></p> <p><font size="3">5.  <strong><u>Have ample seating</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>And keep in mind, I say ample, not fancy.  I moved our everyday patio furniture off the actual concrete to create room for a standard umbrella table with 6 chairs (borrowed from my dad’s backyard), giving me total seating for 14.  A girlfriend lent two 8-foot tables and a dozen metal folding chairs to provide seating for the actual lunch-eating.  Additionally, two children’s tables and chairs were set up for the preschool-age siblings in attendance.  Lastly, on a whim, I set up our tent and tossed a couple beanbags and a “dummy” mattress in for a comfy, alternative hangout spot.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtBvpf3gSM-fhlrhHjKEkpguTaFM263RKgAFWq4HxogRZfuTw6vUbKSGE0lMvppcsIsjX3hnBuEiiNhpPAZafBEL1gw27lvRSH_yGisKRgWEDijh3xi-0fnBojk1B1A1KX9tMgr3JOTw/s1600-h/10616005_10152672356997806_2059716070384299079_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="moms chairs" border="0" alt="moms chairs" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9uMR6_9ZGBfOFyhFPaKvqfzR9AMOuK224REvlQ4_LDenGPRVBBgrOB6YCIxrx9fvcENKGg7QnFSk5Z3W5-Chyphenhyphenaj-z9YgvED6DQNGHM3MVEkNLVsqoZYEcr9mPVQqEap9Tfru_QmZRJk//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9epkw1ksQy5-aYpy3NaxOAMgU7m8eJo_YYzHBV96vSXdULYJ9lXMogiJa_SEBSzp0SoTFWYsbaWhn8-SnrwFzHz8F5adWEJdbpTE2v99V5J0sgOifCNRcZnib3ejpH9yooStDHYDS0Q/s1600-h/10616681_10152672356652806_4774567210907920505_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="girls table" border="0" alt="girls table" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJU9pN1it7KlecdUN0tx52i6SIpF8jCtFd7sF5MCfY4XDJHXOketjqIMWqLjfG1eYEq2HyhrjuGV_JqlKeonB6Ec6Kk48ZUQUJCIbFDIjYCBd4QoOpPZa02dh8ua5cIkQA79FJkWigUDc//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="406" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaaKm0UL8BPp2W9EuocPViP9-hjlbieZxaZgir7aDRrA5qBaXn70CQEnr3gUPwkdmhwZ7wqFX3UZpjElLCi2Wav38BIYDs1Ud-qYZUT7798gMYfQIHxqRQBbZLAzCML9YBV7L25T1h5HQ/s1600-h/10563025_10152672356157806_8355677146332369289_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="girls tent" border="0" alt="girls tent" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3xf7X4ZXBgcU2SrTpPhFiAtdcd-aVabDhlamgCPrchKlAVZYuHmUcRkRDdvlrE5sh_F2sRfqB8HPC_t7I7xaeigtc-C3KNnoY83z77F0QrZZWnwzabuscsOAOIW6Xv5acN5lztmH9Nc//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a></p> <p><font size="3">6.  <strong><u>Have multiple activities available</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>The one splurge I did make for this party was renting a ginormous inflatable.  You can’t quite tell from the photos, but we have a very steep grade to our backyard that prohibits us from having any kind of swingset, and since I knew I wanted the party to remain outdoors (read: away from Legos and the Wii, etc.), I needed an alternative activity, and, selfishly, one that required minimal mom participation.  <em>(Another “why” for the party was definitely getting some more moms introduced to one another, as new class rosters brought about new relationships.  I really wanted my mommy friends to enjoy this day as much as the kids.)</em></p> <p>That said, for $200 (for FIVE HOURS!!!), the bounce house was a HUGE hit, and my generous friends chipped in to help defray the cost.  Win, win, win.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAZiVC21QHmNQSd0pmCfD7V2gr1oJenbKLtg47ExpBZqUDVeIRs5aKDsJD2C39bqdqqj9ksuNi_p28MzZfJWIe2hic-4E0bK3jXhXn27zfS5IGQ-57P1bUCfK_Ef6fmkGzE2-_ks0Wa8/s1600-h/10616285_10152672356777806_6804238521642461662_n%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="jake bounce house" border="0" alt="jake bounce house" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xY07nIonj4n29uklqh094AskiayxNJjB9eqezHNx-lvRCEW0hGDJTO2iZjTSH2ztQCfexsOE6vUbaflXdGySirPXMsavEfTTa5OBPtnfHSHJ1zjVmbtzRcIYMYGFfIm7E4wxaR7nFmk//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="406" /></a></p> <p>As an alternative to the bounce house, I set up an extra 8-foot table and chairs with art supplies, since I knew a handful of little sisters in attendance are uber-artists.  I simply rolled another length of craft paper down the center, taped the ends, and let them know they could color, stamp, paint, and sticker to their hearts content.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0HChXt6f0KEPQehbZkdwhTHJsRmXurB6WptGi69x3ZavKXNPerIvyVWUI4VbDPprhdaZKJV5RLR9Hp1NiDw77qt-PCce1YLaIW0uKvtx2-Jfu0yIBaTbDmGYAYUQbHwkiMr1d5nkHdA/s1600-h/10563020_10152672356687806_8443509425072634230_n%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="delaney art table" border="0" alt="delaney art table" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAUvgqGuYj3xQD6iKRxJ8x3ySS86XHCieKIUYKhsXoNwCdYDrgTtXOX4g0OgLYRdXGqUxg_G8EeBHjuQWETzuKOMtCDXO7CSaOA2TZ65QzsWWK1P8SkZsXUZCMNtDXpfY0f0Jny2Nj-o//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a></p> <p>In addition, I also debuted my drop cloth Radiator Springs (separate post coming soon!) and set out all of Seth’s cars, planes, and trailers.  We had several little guys who do better with some less physical activities (I also had soccer balls and goals set up in addition to the bounce house), so this was a great item to have on hand.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8-9IgCSlwdCSPffplhUDWit27hunUqnwQzfWuYfBHhRZpzqSNW05Oz0Gw11ODcwQqkC5iptIuS31Jk8RrC6WG1-XKUxc-UIpa6kTHUi_Rk4lMqKt3GxOMjfxfj8tTdfQEgNthVSatSU/s1600-h/10352572_10152672357972806_8631826508061234021_n%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="jake car mat" border="0" alt="jake car mat" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXfaGqehLjZh1dHLwKmsNuuBVmILIv1ugjuPlRThVOOyFQo3LuTuyQ6sHOnI-2ilZGjbGF6yeUZTQcleCgOYruNoGzj4UmYAKTrlVMnrqoUu5F7op5_T-Obx5b9mK1UxJ0dcqI5T-1FYA//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a></p> <p><font size="3">7.  <strong><u>Delegate</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>This point is a close second to the “use what you have” mandate.  There was NO WAY I was going to plan for and adequately feed 70+ people without hiring a caterer.  So, when my girlfriends asked (as I’m sure yours will, too), “What can I bring,” I had an answer ready.</p> <p>Initially I felt a little bossy saying, “5 boxes of mac and cheese” or “veggie tray, heavy on the ones the kids will actually eat,” but in the end, (a), I think they appreciated a direct request, and (b), it saved us from having a dozen people bring a dessert or having 20 bags of potato chips and pretzels.</p> <p>I spilt the “assignments” into paper products, hot dogs, hot dog buns, fruit, veggies, spinach salad, pasta salad, snack mix, bottled water, soda cans, kids’ juice chugs, fruit snacks, freezer pops, and unfrosted sugar cookies and strawberry cream cheese.  I provided a cake (see #8), classic PBJ halves, and diced fruit to go with the cookies, so the kiddos could do a “build your own fruit pizza.”</p> <p><em>(I’m kicking myself for not getting a good photo of the “pizza” set up….it was pretty neat!  You can kind of see it in the foreground of the photo. And, ahem, those are 2 spreaders with red handles in the sundae cup, not hotdogs. #facepalm!)</em></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyj-m0qo_8IJpHor6D985tQpn-HkqiBEiFVjrDbHpjQ3wlH0dZLUSwmFCmLy2oMiVQgBdYwgZblog4qXlzgIu-6mAIz1yyyDRO1yuZuobfpmLzS-ZOkwuZ9_Fc6IYzvqzYM8v4OQrghvw/s1600-h/1609720_10152672356842806_5752823745454444469_n%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="food table" border="0" alt="food table" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8IG_rThSu9fK3zCoZ65Z07SfA4Vo66QhGuKchJYs8TFhb2MPhhsIiuoMoUbQ-lxMBZeP8L7MY5uAPylUlzPkYoGdNK3yKcIdxjchWrGfc003E5oyVpoWbse50D3Ce4zJeSRBZeyH1ts//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a></p> <p>I think everyone was happy to contribute something specific, and I wasn’t one bit overwhelmed with the idea of feeding that many people.  It was a perfect way to do things.</p> <p><font size="3">8.  <strong><u>Consider bulk stores</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>All I have to say is, if you don’t have a Costco near you, I’m sorry.  Because for $17.99, you can get  an OMG-delicious sheet cake that will have everyone wanting seconds – and since you can’t beat the value for the size, there is plenty of cake to do just that!  I will say, however, that their decor options are more limited than what you’d find with a traditional bakery or even your local grocer, <strong>but</strong> I made it work (and I think it turned out great!), and again, you can’t beat the price!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNeakvmJlce1nz-a1wgwYiWt1WGU_EYViTtIu0tXLvqij8Sa15lynEcvygNNeOw9K8DTh1D45GaaR_ixC3-VoSVbzzZw6B321fhhs_C0QO6DYbxeJvlGwcWxd4ES9Y9xsZXgJ9FDybrU/s1600-h/1488144_10152672356002806_6026782940439544_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="cake BTSBB" border="0" alt="cake BTSBB" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin4bqtndEJbwKORxsZXEYN8fuJxa8boiIFHmqQ4pAm0J9KqEOTG3IQdL2teQdL7MQjoBkJsPpJIdhGggUUdKRyyOKiETdsYRenlsVIEd0Hp5CPGTPh2oPyGJzuqI11YTeCBqwLFrunMuA//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a></p> <p><font size="3">9.  <strong><u>Have a game plan</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>But keep it flexible. ;)</p> <p>But, really.  Even when kids this age can be counted on to make their own fun, it is true that they still thrive on boundaries and direction.  So, the one activity I had up my sleeve for when I could tell we may need to introduce just a wee bit of structure was water balloons.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UxzSUukfN3wjlQw0lhH1YxvVe3gnJq-fDY7km3oWTCta_fn-4xzRSobaPW6WSWM97ZNsZy_c-Y3F8DpAUx8q5Lo1vI3Lbbn2Yx75AxlRREe65_hbRmTaT7qLiicDjeSEcbhJ2ZglD64/s1600-h/10616006_10152672357132806_871329012687891509_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="water balloon prep" border="0" alt="water balloon prep" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeY2-tb7GjrnJKPHC7446DqK3jFQrA68pwD6fB05arTObU0QfQKD5EuO2Jeg6GZFza71R4eUFVftDCoUZ5wwCUhizg6BYHKdgnoFPtP3fwFrAtZRov5-FALj7xrVtdnNEuI1Gx_lMlgh8//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a></p> <p>My mommy friends were great helpers in filling and tying off about 100 water balloons (read: 6 seconds worth of fun).</p> <p>While the moms filled the last balloons, I commandeered Tiffany’s whistle and gathered all the kids.  I had the soon-to-be-first graders separate into corners based on their new teachers (so, win win there, too, in having them gather with their new classmates) and then divided up the remaining siblings in attendance onto the four respective teams.  They were instructed to launch their one (I know, ONE! I’m mean!) balloon at the sound of my whistle blow, but, if they caught a balloon without breaking it, their “class” would get a point. (How cute is James, by the way?!)</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhPhq-nSKH3ucDm3CtwAfN-Y6Huz0JbLrjlc5tirPzIBJUJVlMdp750FSaM_GTfg56Ktl85EqxYgms2l1Kny_mmpAthWa-2ABN2JwvzZkfZOkiG1riSkgimbyp3gHAZgk582Nl26rmQE/s1600-h/photo%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="coaching water balloon" border="0" alt="coaching water balloon" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhFfxIn37MXt9V5bqAQ1dXqtyZ4rZqnupbRKUCe-GlFX-eSHobD7HmcXU6OXrXMyJEKeDnA8pTI5hM2jCg1ksTqvJzwl5B9ZPbTvf5DzTi_QggNmVZBor35YkNUZz1X406NRRqKSRq5vE//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="424" /></a> </p> <p>Needless to say, the water balloons were gone in about 3 seconds; in true “dump-gatorade-on-the-coach” fashion, I was blasted with the last remaining water balloon; and the kiddos were left clamoring for more action, but it still was the perfect 10-minute activity to start winding down the party.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYNrEU0tLV28_6_rzgEa8WgHSUWD4oAQKMt_BSqv7wKh2zDWS6fQEoHKXIVt3kgDRPUUkQFgHeuMI90Ig5NNP4iVofZZqxXK9cVnhQYKiSpkUD6heJu0dRUuxGL0oq-hCXPo4JZNbp38/s1600-h/14941_10152672357812806_5953593423954031944_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="water balloon after" border="0" alt="water balloon after" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjWaGa99yCRidPfp3Ufjlqr_eKXqvtg1q_vfa_MUWBVrluCgiYAJtJL7vMSb6_K_qYX2S6Nj5S_vfJ5gfWlMa5dnKtLrToPmWsHEdKCrm2uX9wH2b41zhv5sHCMNWTHJF7Y89bPI4o3c//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="377" /></a></p> <p><font size="3">10.  <strong><u>Create memorable photo opportunities</u></strong>.</font></p> <p>You will have put a lot of effort into this day, and you want to make sure that in addition to tucking some private smiles away in your heart, you can both share the experience, and look back for years to come.</p> <p>I picked up a piece of scrap lumber at Home Depot for less than $2, and after a quick sand-and-stain that took me no time at all, I freehanded a 6’ ruler.  I LOVE this piece.  Not only did we get some fun pictures at the party, I plan to use this for years and years to come to measure and record my children’s heights on their first days of each grade.  (Granted, I won’t have Seth’s first day of kindergarten mark, but going forward, I’ll have this photo prop on hand.)</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJaivx60Q5cg7nK0nzBLvkeolBiQhqes3HSaeiZFshlgkgKCRQYLuDHgJmLLmMU6zeUJAYvkX2xLEsV6E5QVC7IemA05f-ELcH_cNfdmmlYkhOVckxhuO27BjY8maWd-T246LBd7x242s/s1600-h/10556438_10152672357937806_6161864502993013138_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="connor ruler" border="0" alt="connor ruler" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrm9WVSdtfiS43rRp7VBTdQdyoTR3E7n95nJyY_0yy007tAkj6xB_U_aMXqyGCr-wudN-fFC4RiapidqGw_UL2RNqR4P_JcyFt41nDAbPMFuMCkeV3AwCbeu7F-2N5xWh4pZIbVxXJG4//?imgmax=800" width="377" height="564" /></a></p> <p>I also picked up 3 black foam boards from the dollar store, and using chalk to mimic a blackboard, I created a “class of 2026” trio of signs for the kids to pose with.  I made no promises that this party will become an annual event, but IF it is, it will be fun to capture this group of kiddos with these signs through the years as they journey through school together.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpr95tY7xAo2qnlnCKQpA-BzPU6Roh-aQGkm_ZIi9uDcYXEeekyPb2Thk9PPtCrQ4uXu_aLMh9FG7cYpyMFf8nTWa6YWIqi7424z_5chTsCtqQc8BSv6AwKthirdLF40hmc6_XPkLg17s/s1600-h/10610823_10152672355447806_8067096921299729700_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="class2026" border="0" alt="class2026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKtJMJR8EMqwlDdgP6b0fo8Flc69uC1uD7IzXdCzVGFNe6skIX5nFsV7wLHxDd2G5hxUUCdZte1EhlEXlQgV8KP8QERnftXaZjkXFQRhaTEmZW4SAb0dRnlu9QKn4VBEHys6KmwLeQVM//?imgmax=800" width="564" height="424" /></a></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>And there you have it!</p> <p>I know this was a long post. =)  Consider it an attempt at making up for months of silence. (You didn’t REALLY think I could go a whole post without noting my absence, did you? lol)</p> <p>Again, I am SO SO SO glad I organized this party.  And I don’t say that, or even publish this post, as a way to pat myself on the back for throwing such an event.  I just really, really enjoyed everything about this day.  Bringing friends together, enjoying a meal, watching kids play…. it was extraordinary for me to get to use my God-given gifts of administration and hospitality to open my home in this way.</p> <p>I hope that you can take something away from this Top Ten list, whether you tuck the tips away until next summer to throw your own back-to-school bash, or apply some of the tips to a get-together of your own.  If you do, please share!  I’d love to see!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY2qWTZoyQ4lgIswUFGTAh6dIQb2kpMM31TRSTTEuHUqD-ret63qkhv2OmV_ox1PEKHd0BjOKC1Dqg0T4It9x5L4XPTq-loXcYkrF060rV8vhshyhbBqUX3Vp2x_BSYFLYiKYqsGT8cY/s1600-h/10538062_10152672356067806_7018055872671996088_n%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="tablescape2" border="0" alt="tablescape2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdc5OLXmekuJkeg9izqpYhvz7PXfyA5F7GlmKn-kFwmdBmnQAJm9zqmGYodOhJ0IthPjs_X4bcwTMoHnb4sIL4_gfzj5bvSrS0zzjxZ_RpryB51nt8KIfujRxekzzrAx1wngLERZLX0Q//?imgmax=800" width="574" height="384" /></a></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1">One last thing…..Serious thanks and praise to my friend Stacy of Cookie Canvas <br />for the extraordinary artistry on the cookies I had her make as party favors…. <br />talk about using God-given talents!  Check these out:</font></em></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkubYgo0m2AQ_aVPtWlrEYn-IsrXCbnmbXwBbKYzN5Vcqj15v3Nj_RceKfZl6dnUOxiyg_L_RDY2ExFFySJyPunjlW9xF3V4fLkBxojmZFtQm2ekS44QmZ1niWZU-7s4o3csYAFNOfK8Q/s1600-h/10531278_743856072327181_7467407317402649400_o%25255B22%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="cookie canvas BTSBB" border="0" alt="cookie canvas BTSBB" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-s6hdbhx_V4C02_OjuA-SSceXGbyAIavzapHDZ49lK_cvUaFQtsZNLl5y6D4VceiNX2L3FWN3YiruxJa0OFNNDH5wYJMRjkHovoCa5gagzLl4DtVyvFPZle3j0BVXSsCy5627NFyiH5Q//?imgmax=800" width="361" height="237" /></a></p> The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-43037379692687175222014-06-11T15:13:00.001-04:002014-06-11T15:18:24.229-04:00My thoughts on SUMMER, thus far<br />
It is day 3 of summer vacation, and these are some things I've come to believe as truth:<br />
<ul>
<li>If you awake and put on your bathing suit and cover-up, and throw your hair in a messy bun, it doesn't count that you don't make it into the shower.....whether or not you actually ever made it to the pool.</li>
<li>Freezer pops are the universal currency of the neighborhood mom.</li>
<li>Duvet covers are of the devil. Period.</li>
<li>No matter how cute my "Summer of Fun" calendar looks, thunderstorms will wreak havoc on my plans. Must be better prepared for a day inside.</li>
<li>My kids eat. All day. ALL. DAY. By 9:30, they've had breakfast, second breakfast, a snack. And then, popcorn. And yet, still zero percent body fat. Jerks.</li>
<li>Laundry will be done every day. There will just be no way around it.</li>
<li>Dirty feet and sunburned noses make me happy. They just do.</li>
</ul>
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I'm trying my best to keep my priorities straight, keep my expectations realistic, and my body rested and hydrated. I want this summer to be the best for our family. No major vacations to stress us out, no huge projects or renovations to disrupt our home, nothing on the horizon but camp outs, pool dates, and cookouts.<br />
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What are your best tips for staying sane when the hours of a summer break day seem a little too many to fill? I'd love to hear your thoughts!The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-6635692444352330282014-05-29T12:42:00.000-04:002014-05-29T12:42:15.529-04:00It's the most wonderful time of the year....... if you're a school teacher.<br />
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After the longest winter EVER, I have no doubt that our local teachers have a constantly running mental countdown to just how many more classroom minutes are between today and 3:35 pm Friday, June 6. And I don't blame them. They are staring down the finish line to a long year and the start of a well-earned summer.<br />
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We were so very fortunate to get who we thought has been a fabulous teacher for Seth this year. The teacher whose class he was <i>technically</i> assigned to was actually out the entire year on maternity leave, so he had a permanent substitute who had been assigned her first kindergarten class.<br />
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She has been such a good sport about getting her feet wet in what could be considered a very high-maintenance school system, and I applaud her for dealing well with parents who aren't always the most gracious in their dealings with the school administration. We have had nothing but good reports home from Seth, and he not ONCE ever complained about going to school or fought me when it was time to get on the bus. Kindergarten was an overwhelmingly positive experience for him. And more important to us, even more than his reading skills or word problem comprehension, was that Seth's character stood true, and it did. The traits of compassion, leadership, and obedience that we fostered in him during his preschool years were both recognized and applauded by his teacher and to me, that is priceless and worth more than academic marks.<br />
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I put together a small end-of-the-year gift for this amazing woman and I hope she sees it as more than a way to kick-start her summer, but more, as this mom's meager way of showing just a hint of the gratitude I have for her taking my sweet firstborn under her wing this year and handing him back even brighter than before.<br />
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<i>Bucket, beach towel, shovel, and glow sticks all courtesy of Target.</i></div>
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-81168873092782817902014-04-27T16:17:00.001-04:002014-04-27T16:44:19.669-04:00UnexpectedThe things we need most are often the things we never saw coming....<br />
<br />
A quiet Sunday, made quieter by the absence of the pre-church frantic hustle. Raspy coughs and drippy noses suggested that perhaps snuggles and cartoons and unhurried parents would best serve as a healing respite. So, we snuggled and slowed and savored not being stressed on what is called to be a day of rest. (Not to mention that we were able, then, to avoid all the congestion from the <a href="http://www.glasscitymarathon.org/" target="_blank">marathon</a>.)<br />
<br />
Lunch, office work, laundry (always), some tattling, some tears. Play time with the neighbors, photo editing, naptime for the baby. Errands for daddy, and then...just before my mind turns to dinner and my eyes narrow at the clock and my ear strains to hear whispers from the nursery, he says,<br />
<br />
"Why don't you go up to <a href="http://www.gomayberry.com/" target="_blank">Mayberry</a> for a bit, get a coffee, get away?"<br />
<br />
Normally, I excuse the invitation away. I testify that I'm fine, or, more often than not, that I'm too busy...there is too much to do....I don't have time to "get away," even for a cup of coffee. I don't let him relieve me. I don't let him step into solo-parent mode. Somewhere along the way, I adopted a hidden belief that only I could do it, and by "it," I meant <i>everything.</i><br />
<br />
Someone wise recently told me that the opposite of self-respect was perfectionism. It took me more than a second to wrap my head around that. As someone who has long prided herself on being a "perfectionist," I found that insulting. What would possibly be wrong with striving toward perfectionism, and how in the world did my pursuit of such inhibit self respect?<br />
<br />
The more I considered her theory, however, (and I'll admit, there is some context I'm leaving out), the more I realized her words ring true, at least for me.<i> </i> She asked me to picture how my life would be different if I truly had healthy self-respect, and this is what came to mind:<br />
<ul>
<li>I'd let go of the notion that I could do it all</li>
<li>I'd let go of the notion that I'm the only one who could keep things together for our family</li>
<li>I'd make time, not excuses, for myself to exercise -- whether that meant going for a long walk/ride, or making time for the gym</li>
<li>I'd accept the offer of help, or time to myself, whether that offer was from another friend, a family member, Tiffany, or Jim</li>
<li>I'd stop saying "yes" to things I didn't want to commit to/participate in, merely for fear of disappointing someone else</li>
<li>I'd let myself enjoy naptime on Mondays, when it's just me and James at home, and let myself watch a show or read a book, instead of frantically doing chores</li>
</ul>
When I recognized that all the motivation behind those things/behaviors was maintaining my impossible standard of perfection, it was easy to see that I was doing myself a disservice.<br />
<br />
So, circling back around to our germy, quiet Sunday. Jim said, "go, get a coffee." And you know what? <i>I said yes.</i> The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-33093745399036134392014-03-18T05:00:00.000-04:002014-03-18T05:00:03.197-04:00Frivol<p>Did you know that <em>frivol</em> is a transitive verb?</p> <p>You probably only really use is in the adverbian sense (“She was acting frivolously.”) but I began to really ruminate on the word when I ran across it in a list after I Google-searched, “other words for “<em>to waste.”</em>  Actually, I got to <em>frivol</em> after I clicked on <em>squander</em>, because it was <em>squander</em> that actually resonated the most with me in that moment.</p> <p>And can you guess what prompted my to-lazy-to-actually-find-and-dust-off-my-thesaurus search?  You may be able.</p> <p>Ah, yes.  The ever present topic of my writing.  Or lack thereof.</p> <p>I can’t number the times I’ve been told, “<em>you have a gift,” “you should write a book,” “you’re an amazing writer.”  </em>On one hand, the self-doubt that wells up with each of those compliments is so very real.  Who am I to think anything I have to say is worthy of publication?  And on the other hand, I have a diploma (somewhere; probably near the dusty thesaurus) that would speak to  my talent.  Degrees in journalism and English mean <em>something</em>, do they not?</p> <p>So, therein is my dilemma, haunting my thoughts on a cold  Monday night , driving me to the Internet for word inspiration because of the overwhelming and disappointing belief that I’m wasting a gift.  My most precious gift.</p> <p>I don’t mind using this space to diary endearing anecdotes of my children as they grow, or to catalogue recipes that become part of my constant kitchen rotation.  I have no moral qualms with posting pictures and step-by-step instructions on home decoration and improvement projects that I tackle as we move from home to home.</p> <p>But.</p> <p>BUT.</p> <p>I want so much more for my OWN self.</p> <p>I want to use this space to pour out thoughtful, carefully crafted, grammatically correct pieces of me.  When I wrote the “<em>why Writer Chic?” </em><a href="http://www.thewriterchic.com/2009/06/why-writer-chic.html">post</a> years ago, I stated that I wanted this place to be somewhere I could speak to my all the parts of me.  Not just me as a mommy/homemaker.  But the woman-me. And writer-me.  And dreamer-me.</p> <p>Where did she go?</p> <p>She is in here.  I know she is.</p> <p>But it has been so very long since I’ve taken time to listen to her.  To listen for her voice.  To take time to hear what she has to say.  About anything.</p> <p>About the Malaysian jet disappearance.  Or the crisis in the Ukraine. Or the common core curriculum.  Or Obamacare.</p> <p>And that’s not say that I’m going to be doing posts about any of those things.  That’s just to say that I’m acknowledging that I have thoughts about those things.</p> <p>A few weeks ago, I had an epiphanous moment in my kitchen – one that involved Nutella and baked broccoli, so that should tell you something about the development of said epiphany – and I was *thisclose* to changing the url and name and entire direction of this blog.</p> <p>But.</p> <p>I’m not going to.</p> <p>Because I still believe in the purpose and intent behind this blog, and its name.</p> <p>And I still believe in me. The writer-me.  She is worth fighting for.  And you better believe I am fighting my way back.</p> The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-1358894561256867012014-01-31T20:26:00.002-05:002014-01-31T20:26:47.195-05:00HibernationIt pains me, almost physically, that it has been almost 3 months since I've dusted off this little dot-com of mine, and poured my heart out onto the page.<br />
<br />
There is no one reason that the blog posts fell by the wayside. It isn't like 2013, and 2012 for that matter, weren't already "dry" years. They were. And if I so chose, I could explain why and what triggered that. I never meant for that silence to become permanent. I still don't. I don't think.<br />
<br />
But maybe...I don't know. Maybe I really need to rethink what I want this blog to be. It has taken on so many personalities over the years: a simple here-is-what-is-going-on-with-my-high-risk-pregnancy, to a family scrapbook, to a place to grieve, back to a scrapbook, and now....<br />
<br />
Now, the "everyday" is hard to keep up with. To take time to post the simple happenings of my day seems frivolous, and to MAKE time to craft the posts that I really want to write....that just simply seems impossible.<br />
<br />
And while I try to figure it out -- what I want this site to be, not only to me, but to my readers (if there are any left), to -- life continues to come at me in unbelievable, warp-speed ways.<br />
<br />
No, seriously.<br />
<br />
Since my last post:<br />
<ul>
<li> Jim spent a week on the neurology floor of the hospital after we were told he'd had a stroke. At 33. (Final ruling was that it wasn't actually a stroke. But still. I can't unhear those words in the ER as they rushed him away from me on a gurney: "Mrs. Gregory, it appears your husband has had a stroke. You did the right thing.... We'll do everything we can..."</li>
<li>My father was diagnosed with cancer. The details are his to share. But I can at least say, it was still a diagnosis we were not expecting, and the rapid nature in which treatment and surgery and recovery have followed have been mind-boggling.</li>
<li>Seth broke his wrist 2 days after Christmas, and we learned that he has some pretty extensive vision issues. As I write this, he has already gotten his cast off, and we are all adjusting to Seth-with-glasses, but at the time...it was a lot to handle.</li>
<li>I've taken my first international trip, to London.</li>
<li>Tiffany was involved in a serious car accident that, while she herself was wonderfully, providentially protected, totaled her car. An entire week of our January seemed to just evaporate in the wake of that, and car shopping, and recovery.</li>
<li>Tiffany and I have both been struck down with not only influenza but also strep. NO FUN.</li>
</ul>
I could add more. No, really. I know it's hard to believe. But there is more. And I know that each incident isn't that life-altering in and of itself. But when it comes one thing after another. And then you factor in the season -- the trifecta that is Thanksgiving-Seth's birthday-Christmas -- while all of this is going on. Oh, and did I mention that we Ohioans are experiencing the worst winter in history? Seth has only been to school 8 days since December 20. EIGHT.<br />
<br />
This really wasn't the post that I wanted to write tonight. That flu/strep double-punch I mentioned up there is real time -- I got my diagnosis just yesterday, and I'm currently propped up in bed regretting my dinner choice. But I thought it past time to reappear here and let anyone out there still reading that things have just been heavy over in these parts. Overall, everyone is well and I'm okay, truly. I just....<br />
<br />
Yeah. I'm finding my way back, I hope.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-8560057833536175192013-11-07T11:34:00.001-05:002013-11-07T11:44:36.682-05:00Picasos….Picasi? what is the plural of Picaso?<p align="center">  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZ2ZNIeKe-gKk7hkFqjFxVsxLcDeTiRr3c0JMX-NWTuQFfowT3hAA37cziXn6fpY5zW79D6BaRncReoNVqIT8tqnysOzc9Nd-68_y4U2vH4icY0kVOJ4nUWdoFp_I7UwjGuyjiJKYy6g/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252832%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (32)" border="0" alt="misc oct (32)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkf7EQ6XyuMZT1-a8_hyphenhyphencwyJv7Wyp7nsTtaCTQZGNjnjJ_bYA03CE1oklqYCMQWEJx1-SDjo2yxfH0UnSPhlCiSX0JHsbvxgz35kLXe3YVo94uzNnRAvmmCMgpZ5ak9EHlf7PEKcYZ43c//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BcCh8d_90Is23m5CZug2Xa5Bqlu7GUYPMEnaDM_pgypXGHQ2o-Pq4HFUvHu8RzSTlvPaIr7dcjJFEa04GhyphenhyphenmIbgQiRXq-gB8OAOvG7ZzGi3klP2-uL7o7KFu3GAzA_QJmn9W_xCk3kM/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252831%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (31)" border="0" alt="misc oct (31)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkeHGjItgkHp1nFCRYVZIXGR3GYmeI5jq6dOQFziKxM9Q1IWHnHnaIXJMP3g7lJKXXbK6sT5WYDAA0_tYII-HJl8DqOyDyTFpc-kKC9nljA0KJEeRvYaT0lgaVve_KfHUBp4z-yTYKho//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a>  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJ1tME3MWStspfLtuoDrbQIZrfosT4fnr2FXFK8aXZW42syc2fOckExIuwLi-FOMRVxwTlmma6B6xIKjtcCQOVgu4Drfu5IBCMV5z4N7FgqGYUqsVpzF53n7kYHxbL7nh-dhrmLoJ86k/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252830%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (30)" border="0" alt="misc oct (30)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjJYXXkXfM27S0WT_TjGzzTGM9-fc2cAlUzcTU5iAL6z1KLp3Xa4WCp9b3VdvYYJBiRf6i2v6px7_WFq_NlnHVYl2V9-VM1mv2GyXMoxJOIZjRLzfXT_vruZNJmIFWuLq1jV4ncGCa1k//?imgmax=800" width="431" height="644" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsn6en2zKNLJcndi54k_P8hdT8hyphenhyphenHsKh-h7_Sk0QGqRtDpSobuMhHf6eSljnGzYrGY1uJBwTm0jb7TTiS5RgoYMEX89JXyyIWYesai2FqGXb17TGpY_gfUo_xjQgKTosFluRFm2uJtR3M/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252833%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (33)" border="0" alt="misc oct (33)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIdxXHznzKejwZ354v7OvhtfGi4IU-zDB8oAyGRY70tnGebJGU2eYuAN_-vllUvtL67RAPIAhkpydCQq97P2p_JfyC_bo-hOhJh0TIPp44Q2P3pkFrk_QOpbYbgbW_gSmkRsnCtoL9_U//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1v7Xs5bbJrUYPySdYRkBD64lOWsaC8sRRx2DL20qPqghJnQc4VgtLpSP8Gq41C0EMHtfS3nBHiFan6fa9wvfkEwY5wYMqNTM7JprEMTlQpU9R_B2uKgu1QVifRcdtsQ9KhyphenhyphenINrp_daXE/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252834%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (34)" border="0" alt="misc oct (34)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ix1FQGMHS3QPFg0HEpLb3e2qDrbtk96B2F915bRtde5_xeMgxC2IL64h32ESNv3zintnZqasayvDZlZFbNoXYHX6C1BzaJemKeKC66loyZ2icP-SLV9foRmIjaTxX8WQ40ACYUF5zuo//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiukyT9mdeJuBkJ-XMt68QtMJErHBHuuQp4siLKd7GtwO7zfdbeQ4mzmjeNrbjmTZBeVLjSWarJtFz3GvGDTwdeAhhPCaq9g4dicHVw6Z12z2ZYTyzr_l8BJ1thyU2jAXpBgGsAUG-ypE/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252835%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (35)" border="0" alt="misc oct (35)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMOPJQ8cCgH2KDzmWVq7ONVMrUUjThVKeGM_oxgfpXddJBJegFFKkd8cj42d8RftmKG5AQfPfvvhp64CmbEijUgNonXcvkAt6ZO1nnfLM-mnqflFmTgz3OOu1UwSlaY14AO5TB2AV9QQ//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRC0nY9muuNBQj9POBI7xnQ6ZbAAHZfC2RPxC3mXhodCZu44NYRVgNW2o2Qswq4I3_havoI2-cS4aeW5ZC_ks4UDawVhZOiCtPmegB0ax-S26xieNbw5XmQgZy1LZjAtVnUHPYSBi1dU/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252836%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (36)" border="0" alt="misc oct (36)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYZJt8s-GAbq4by2ro33b7mFY9Bzd-tBWGNVkxDWWEO1_gCtB5WllhS7E6Xg6P4iSG1rvUBcU8arPp-7WB2VXPU72i3lnraLI_mcgmbzKUUR_Xae8S-th42E5DPpcOIUYloPD40M34vQ//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSUW_-E0KUiB4aHVpwDq9hZ2PAaGV0AtBDF4aCwaFsx6cb4K3E6SHJhYWc5HzIhAxMqTmE5YxLsrLcQ2_7Kuz0lgS1eaOl68zWFzUj-IgGoUAOF1t_NFzpe70QfPQv6jDrTIAKMBLXIXE/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252837%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (37)" border="0" alt="misc oct (37)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfno7OKEDOtzDLDrSva84kTkIjTZzUmxqoBS3WArm4UGHwQeP-qbZogv4fKx_Ne0VaW2bBYFieqQ_HK_BNxflR1VnPc2TRqGULX1dK-XxKIExeB52KXZ_678Yk1xLVchIWX2BI_N6LJRo//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiingIps9BQc6zWWhD4a7o_EjnHPR4tiXpr8gVeYogcEHyopblCU4pWhP7rrxE8KCaNNaPjZ86rWkLxCZJGmLrvTpj9JuWKdlsoA7TIAmDF5LhYvfqp4gX3KiDuUC7kycEzuYJ9XiHT8Vw/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252838%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (38)" border="0" alt="misc oct (38)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhan-2nBEX3RQfwje8GuOke7HcdzMTA7SQsnOOOtCjqHVStJf0Vgln-NWdIYz5wE72V1cTKzkAxHT0uvpNl0_KLBoOzv-M4pCRgD_e5JR3kdVmLWIiUcjCyi2Flqu1srwdy5LDMGnAVwAA//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="418" /></a>  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwp5w_6HDD-ofUNPpyeKc5293qF_9hCgVC3M8YvYmBoO02MuktM_IEdw7PT8QUthn-N0SYWhyTDasSgtbFzAnzRXu7SyMFzVjzZ7BbU0OU-jm_cjXBcgPHSLtD2Mlyn2yCD_MVvHnMg-Y/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252839%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (39)" border="0" alt="misc oct (39)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1s7hMRpnPVBphl5K7Pj9FyrL6VTclTIeEI3KQ503eJpaBlPZ9lvGD9u5Vq6hvQTINp1791WxUWB5zuBVZANgFcr8ZO6hzHvClBHteYb9xlu0HLly8G_jGeG3wjMeY1UccrbP5dx1_puY//?imgmax=800" width="624" height="420" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs83a1xMXmNeDUPeYB9JYQvI9CrXh1tB2uxDn_xLdWmGbpRxaUEbYG31IpPhgYb7UCPV_szfwXwA7yGTRWAf0BhDAnXNg_kTLNf7FqwOSTwkv61veENs7Y9a2wlibpiKSwOMoqPBxP3kU/s1600-h/misc%252520oct%252520%25252840%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="misc oct (40)" border="0" alt="misc oct (40)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLQKGb0_Y9GSs7I6mZXjyeqdXxmjUthjY4tAOBTrqx8DDKXNyaroTmW5HPCwfJ8iB2YcUoeumGQ_QiWEPe2tZgRWHV6BUTTPOpGCHfwSlqThlUheGgjFfyt2rUbQISdoW8imWeYuZN4k//?imgmax=800" width="431" height="602" /></a></p> The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-74389194559202501572013-10-08T00:01:00.000-04:002013-10-08T00:01:00.922-04:00Eight on 8<p>Another year, more milestones.  More laughs and more tears and more questions and more memories and more kisses goodbye and goodnight.  More miscommunications and more make-up sex. ;)  More diaper changes and more credit card bills.  More life.  Always more life.</p> <p>He is still the only one I’d want to be on this crazy ride with.  You hear lots of statistics about the seven year itch and all that.  Well, I’m here to say, that we came out on the other side stronger and more in love than ever.  So, take that, seventh year.  And eighth, too.</p> <p> </p> <p><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="479777_10151681839782806_1841326508_n" border="0" alt="479777_10151681839782806_1841326508_n" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIPT3-x_1y8P_tGWXtnPqLZ1kVT7QjpOuRX3RDkTKj41z-i-1lnew8N2Dd3BE1GTFFmyTstoEHVDFcGFGE0Y6fL3cG7Oc8eDPufPN-00ajMl8A_narYWQhb-Eue8EWSH0evLLeaPXqfw//?imgmax=800" width="489" height="651" /></p> <p>It’s cheesy, but the melody is catchy, and I have to admit, it fits….</p> <p>So, in the words of Paramore…..</p> <blockquote> <p align="center"><em><strong>Can't count the years on one hand <br />That we've been together. <br />I need the other one to hold you. <br />Make you feel, make you feel better. <br />It's not a walk in the park <br />To love each other. <br />But when our fingers interlock, <br />Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it</strong></em></p> <p align="center"><em><strong>‘Cause after all this time, I'm still into you.</strong></em></p> <p align="center"><em><strong>I should be over all the butterflies, but I'm into you. <br />And even on our worst nights, I’m into you. <br />Let ‘em wonder how we got this far, <br />’Cause I don't really need to wonder at all. <br />Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you.</strong></em></p> </blockquote> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_is6fLC5jaa5ps3pK8hcTaDM0RmlFVKuXwLVTg6qDXxu944clCdCGhKORvSThcLutf7Pnyvl6vGARphPvwPebMMQsSDxpKpZY7AnVeNo4UsycNRA-nHYWKkcFOrWTX9C9xPsuBWrKwx0/s1600-h/sweet%2525207%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="sweet 7" border="0" alt="sweet 7" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbhTr5o_Hx506Cy467Iot81EEbF48Wf2YXDDEYk6MAG4sDZFyTL6fjDW3AFOHdU95fcWQgP7pb6eelJ4VLAOQOoFy2uXhwR8N0DnnkOTohknj4HaoeDKRQ_NgjuPwWkDraSuxLsSTDU4//?imgmax=800" width="579" height="442" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="5">Happy 8th Anniversary, Jim</font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="5">There is no one else I’d rather <br />roll my eyes at than you. xoxo</font></em></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="5">But seriously, I love you. <br />Here’s to many more years <br />of being into one another.</font></em></p> The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-2223956518053321782013-10-04T00:00:00.000-04:002013-10-04T00:00:03.434-04:00InstaFriday 10.4.13<div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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Guess who scored his first goal of the soccer season?! This little dude! And I had to pay up; I'd bribed him with $5 for scoring. There may or may not have been some parents on the opposing team that I wanted to impress. But that is another post for another day. </div>
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Guess who woke up a whole year older on Monday? This girl! My Instagram caption read "Good morning, 33. Be good, please. But even if not....thank you, God, for more days to enjoy and celebrate the amazing gifts you've given me." Would it be weird if I print out this picture and keep it handy and visible to remind me on the hard days of the prayer of that birthday morning? I really want to mean it...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcGjFco5TNRplFZSfwHaYwFQDPjrZGfKIt9_1oOv3-qywGIGMVvbQKdvgsKapFCxhXeU8nWGI7KG4R-9QOowF44qFgJFr22XIbS2ThDu3PQAdE4DM46uVW_9yt65KSiuZlOmhdwHAlH0/s1600/IMG_1170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcGjFco5TNRplFZSfwHaYwFQDPjrZGfKIt9_1oOv3-qywGIGMVvbQKdvgsKapFCxhXeU8nWGI7KG4R-9QOowF44qFgJFr22XIbS2ThDu3PQAdE4DM46uVW_9yt65KSiuZlOmhdwHAlH0/s400/IMG_1170.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Guess who got to hang with Auntie KK and the pup-pups for a whole day while Mommy and Daddy ran grown-up errands? That little piece of adorableness. I just love everything about this picture....that Blue is kissing him. That their hair is the same color. That now I know Karen didn't even set up the pack-n-play for naptime. They just snuggled the afternoon away.<br />
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Guess who got to stay up past her bedtime to have dinner, ice cream, and some leotard shopping with her two favorite girls? Tiffany! And she found a sweet pink, sparkly leotard, too. ;) Just kidding. It's the other blonde beauty. I pray that we are both loving and leading her as best as possible.<br />
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Guess who still has two separate bouquets of birthday blooms brightening her kitchen and bedroom? I love fresh flowers, especially fall ones. That said, I think I've decided I'm not going to put mums on the front porch this year. That's a first for me....we shall see if I change my mind on impulse.<br />
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Speaking of my front porch....I'm still "feathering." (Not that you'd know that it's "still," since I haven't blogged any pictures of the decor I've put out thus far. But I digress.) I bought corn stalks for the first time, and I'm loving them. Loving them enough that I'm gonna get a couple more. Yeehaw!<br />
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And that's my week, y'all. Or at least the week that actually made it to my Instagram account. ;) I'm <a href="http://liferearranged.com/category/instafriday/" target="_blank">linking up with Jeanette</a> at <span style="color: black;"><a href="http://life.rearranged/">life.rearranged</a></span>. Won't you join us?</div>
The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-34715025665215413392013-09-17T06:00:00.000-04:002013-09-17T06:00:01.174-04:00Remember when....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XwvWMknrsROxxP0TdoN4mVpbe01V2XGtfR61MVcJGDqPNwLSA0UPLG9bQbKMBDQtp8jfeDJkpo_bv0F_bUQrDnIbVSEs2dNnRixZYSf576Kz3xid-1vueMk61l4AyEl1XCL7JYZI5fE/s1600/wild+beaver+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XwvWMknrsROxxP0TdoN4mVpbe01V2XGtfR61MVcJGDqPNwLSA0UPLG9bQbKMBDQtp8jfeDJkpo_bv0F_bUQrDnIbVSEs2dNnRixZYSf576Kz3xid-1vueMk61l4AyEl1XCL7JYZI5fE/s640/wild+beaver+girls.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Remember when we all went out to dinner at that Mexican place in the Gulch that wasn't even that good....?<br />
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...and then crammed way too many people into a way-too-small vehicle to drive around downtown Nashville looking for the best karaoke bar...?<br />
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...and then had to leave the first bar because the smoke was too much for this then-pregnant-with-James momma to handle...?<br />
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...so we went to the <a href="http://www.wildbeaversaloon.com/nashville/" target="_blank">Wild Beaver</a> instead...?<br />
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....and Jim sang "Tootsie Roll"...?<br />
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...and Kasey rode the mechanical bull...?<br />
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...and the waitress who was dressed up like some deranged bumblebee gave Andrea and Carrie some type of Halloween-inspired shots of who-knows-what...?<br />
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Remember that night?<br />
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It was a good night.The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-16958733635607044352013-09-09T05:00:00.000-04:002013-09-09T05:00:00.581-04:00The first day of the rest of his life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is a new hashtag floating around <a href="http://instagram.com/mrsmsg#" target="_blank">my Instagram account </a>these days: #chapterk</div>
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And I've got to tell you, I'm having a blast with it. I mean, not so much the hashtag, but the need for it: having a kindergartener.</div>
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Now, given that Seth had been in some sort of organized preschool program since August 2009, my emotions of sending my baby off to school were pretty stable. Granted, I came to the realization VERY quickly that this experience is NOTHING like I've encountered in the past, and I'm sure I'll be blogging about those specifics in the coming months. But as for the first day jitters.....there were none. Just a whole lot of smiles and hugs and "I'm so proud of you" moments.</div>
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Jim started his day a little later than normal so that he could help get Seth awake and dressed, and to pause for the obligatory front porch pictures.</div>
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Seth and his best buddy Lucas stopped their hooting and hollering long enough to snap this priceless shot. I can see this one going up on some "through the years" photo boards for the graduating class of 2026!<br />
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Little Miss and Mister couldn't miss out on the ceremonial first day pictures, either, and luckily every one was in good enough moods to capture some sweet early morning smiles.<br /><br />
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This has nothing to do with kindergarten, per se, but it is worth mentioning. I never EVER could figure out how to take a screen shot on my first smartphone (a Samsung Droid). Thankfully, I now have an iPhone5, and I can take screen shots like a pro. Which ended up being much needed when I accidentally video filmed Seth getting on the bus instead of snapping a photo. But! I managed to pause the clip to capture this perfect, sums-up-the-morning-to-a-tee shot, and I am not ashamed to admit that I look at it probably a dozen times a day. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be this kid's mom. He is so unbelievably awesome. <br />
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<i>They</i> tell you it will happen. And it's not that you don't believe them. You just don't know what the "it" feels like until your turn finally comes.<br />
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But then it does -- your turn -- and you find yourself in that moment that <i>they</i> warned you of. You wait for the feelings (that, as it turns out, are custom made for you and your child) to wash over you.... The wave comes; crests as the hydraulics swing shut the bus doors; abates as the yellow tube-with-windows turns left at the stop sign.<br />
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There you stand, in the sun, and you think to yourself, <i>"yes, it was just that fast, and now it's over. It WAS just yesterday that he was learning to walk/trying to talk/fitting into 12m overalls. Just like that, he's gone. Off to conquer the real world, one grade at a time."</i><br />
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<i> </i>The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-80756071542824372362013-08-28T22:12:00.001-04:002013-08-28T22:19:37.852-04:00Overwhelmed<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I looked over my shoulder today to see exactly this, this look smiling right into my mirror. I can't believe God picked me, of all the women in the world, to be his momma. </div>
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The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5659002609114323697.post-7750368537806829902013-08-25T20:40:00.001-04:002013-08-25T20:40:28.880-04:00#ChapterClosed<img alt="[aug - home craziness 028[14].jpg]" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcielW5F8SuP1Oxk92iLcdk2GeecJXrmQ1eazT05CfMiAKl8xX_6Nim0nXFIRl1BzEV42RYcn0OdI0V4vCD-RwyFtEo6mbCOKUJKWjJTfHnjnLjeJ9Qpyov7nref6d5mxMQqg6iBt1qQc/s640/aug+-+home+craziness+028%5B14%5D.jpg" width="640" /><br />
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Yeah, I know. I'll give you a second to recover from the cuteness overload.<br />
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This was Seth's first day of "preschool" (aka Mother's Day Out) in August 2009.<br />
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And I blinked, literally, and here I sit, on the eve of his first day of kindergarten.<br />
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I'm not overly emotional. I have mommy-friends all around me who are bombarding Facebook with (forgive me) ultra-sappy e-cards and plagiarized poems about fleeting years and holding back tears as little ones board yellow busses for the first time.<br />
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Not so much me.<br />
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Seth is beyond ready for the independence that comes tomorrow morning with the bus and the lunch room and the table time and the card behavior system. He is ready with a capital R. And so am I. I'm not a good teacher. There is a reason I studied journalism, not early childhood education. These are HARD years to muddle through. (Trust me; I'm still in the trenches.) They are not my favorite. So, on many days, I'm just "OMG get out of the house and go learn forgoodnesssake already!!!"<br />
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I can say that, with total honesty, and in the same breath, sit back and analyze and realize that I feel like I failed him in some way. That I was selfish with my time, and that I didn't make the most of the handful -- literal handful -- of years that I had him all to myself, under my roof, to mold and shape and teach and love.<br />
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I didn't wish the years away. I just feel, in this moment, that I could have done better. I could have been more intentional. More influential. More....well, just more.<br />
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And I guess that is the plight of the firstborn. They are our learning curve. Our test run. Our "oh, please just don't let me screw him up too badly" one.<br />
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But. Despite my shortcomings, he is ready. He is tucked in bed, Bailey under one arm, awash in the glow of a green lava lamp. And for just one more night, he is just my baby.<br />
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Tomorrow, all bets are off....<br />
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<br />The Writer Chichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15215717851386518982noreply@blogger.com3