It is clear she has been listening to me. Or reading my blog. I probably should have gasped and scolded her. O.K., I did gasp, but then I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I gave her a high-five, and felt oddly proud.
She giggled as she handed it over… She knows. She knows…
Olivia and I have been having a lot of fun together lately. Don’t worry. I’m not out to be her BFF. Rather, that little girl of mine has a keener sense of humor than many adults. She’s sharp and she’s a wee bit off.
I passed the picture off to my husband. He combed his fingers through his hair and asked, “Make Me Laugh Monday?” I was all, “Duuuh!”
I actually am feeling a bit threatened by my daughter… If I let her start the blog she’s been begging to start, she may be my biggest competition.
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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
I am so bad with names I have SERIOUSLY considered carrying around name tags so I could have them handy. Say like, at my preschooler’s tumbling class or at the coffee shop… my family…
It is that bad.
I believe every person I come in contact with should wear a name badge.
So, imagine my crisis when I visited the dog park for the first time the other day.
Not only were there NEW PEOPLE WITH NAMES *grips chest*… there were DOGS WITH NAMES.
I have never seen a dog with a name tag. Well, on the collar, but no.one.can.read.those!
It was clear within minutes of our visit at the dog park, the people and dogs considered us family.
From a seasonal craft I did last year… An Advent Calendar:
I kinda figure, “Why reinvent the wheel?… Been there, done that, yo.” So, in an effort to stay green — “recycle”, if you will… I will link back to the post. The post in which I explained how to make that thar puppy in that picture up there.
Yes. It was effort. And I copied. Verbatim. Exactly, except I bet the original crafter didn’t cuss as much as I did. Thank goodness the kids were in bed.
I have learned the fruit of hard work is sweet, but the effort also often places my soul at the edge of Hell. I may be standing there, at the edge soon, for I am planning to make a wreath of buttons glued and manipulated to stick to canvas… and tiny bead things. Tiny + glue + my hands + my patience = prolly not my finest moment(s).
– Speaking of Christmas (the whole Advent Calendar-thing)… You have until November 16 to enter for a chance to win a Lego Duplo prize pack. Just visit this link and leave a comment for your chance. A Duplo prize pack! A great potential Christmas gift, for sure!
I overheard my girls (4 & 7) playing school recently…
7 year old: O.K. spell “memories”.
Me, to myself:MEMORIES??? A 4 year-old spell, MEMORIES?
4 year old: H
*silence*
*silence*
*silence*
7 year old: Good job!
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Anyone interested in a chance to win a Lego® Duplo® prize pack? Visit my review blog… and my newest review to leave a comment and share how you get creative and stimulate development in your kids! The contest starts today and runs through November 16th!
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I have a joke. Wanna hear a joke? It’s my favorite:
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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
Wait. If you are reading this, you probably do know.
Or not. I don’t even know.
It’s just hard. There’s the entire being this part of a blogger that clamors for… for… comments. For traffic. How can one build fame and renown if one can’t talk about it?
Sure, we write, but we exist in a world of people with ears and mouths. Not just screens and keyboards. But when we must interact with IRLs… how does that go?
And also, at what point did robots become more “relatable”? I kid I digress.
A blogger struggles to find a voice… A voice that he or she wants to have, but more-so… one that others want to hear. We not only want to write, we want to share that we write. WriteRight? Continue reading ‘It Is So Hard to be a Blogger Person.’
It is by Alli Worthington… of the highly-accalimed BlissfullyDomestic.com and the Blissdom Conference. *sigh* I really want to go to there… Haven’t actually made the purchase, but… GONNA! Did I tell y’all that I met Alli at BlogHer and she sprinkled my glitter on her? She is just as delightful as one would imagine…
2) I went for a run on my birthday. You know the phrase “stop and smell the roses”? Well, all the roses are dead right now. So I stopped and admired a spiderweb:
Do you see it sparkling? I love the Fall… and morning runs… and my birthday… Ironically, I hate spiders… but they make lovely homes…
3) Dessert tables. BE STILL MY HEART!!!!
I have no words. Well, I do. But really, words would fade the beauty of these dessert tables.
I want to go to there.
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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
I am 20 years past 17. Officially. Today. Thanks for showing up, Birthday.
I loved 17. I am not 17 in this picture. I am 36. But whatever.
I never really thought about 20 years past 17 when I was 17. I just thought about boys. And college. Boys at college. I didn’t even appreciate glitter.
I guess to some extent, we do gett better with age?
Psht.
For the record, I married a boy from college… I wasn’t 17 then either. I was 22. *mathmathmath* That was almost 15 years ago.
How did I get closer to being 50 than 15? Not that anything is wrong with 50 – for other people. *eyes crossing*
Oh, Birthday… you deepen my “smile” lines. Oh Birthday, my aching joints! You laugh and point as more frequently I realize, “I can’t do THAT like THAT anymore…”
I mean I CAN. I am like The Little Engine That Could. Except I run on glitter, not coal. It all just looks a lot different and may take longer these days…
My daughter (7) was given a writing prompt at school, “Monica wanted to touch the moon. If you wanted to touch the moon, what would you do? Write how you would try to touch the moon.”
Olivia wrote (her punctuation, her spelling),
I would do all uf the things that my mom and dad say. I would ask very nisly (nicely) and if thay say no I would crie so loudly everyone in the naberhowd (neighborhood) would heer me and I would crie so loud I would faint!! I wuld get a rocetship for my brthday and I wuld go to the moon in spac (space). I wuld save up my muny and fors (force) a servent to take me to spac.
I think she has career in blogging… or destined to be an aristocratic leader. Or dictator.
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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
I am HORRIBLE with names. H to the ORRIBLE.
I overheard my girls (4 & 7) playing school recently…
You don’t even know.
I am 20 years past 17. Officially. Today. Thanks for showing up, Birthday.
My daughter (7) was given a writing prompt at school, “Monica wanted to touch the moon. If you wanted to touch the moon, what would you do? Write how you would try to touch the moon.”
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