There are those who think outside of the box. There are those of us that like to stay securely boxed.
Wordle is thinking outside the box. Here’s a visual rendering of what my blog is all about: words.
Now a little word association:
time: The thing I’ve been struggling with the most lately. blog: What I’m doing instead of… read: What I wish I did more of. think: Not enough. getting: A beach vacation soon. now: I wish. know: I’m secure in His firm grip. comments: Love ’em. Like Coke, can’t get enough. actually: Should be going to bed. really: It will probably be another hour or so. learn: Love to do it. leave: enough silence between thinking and speaking things: That’s all they really are, just things. one: Love
Play along if you’d like. Head to Wordle and create your own. Leave a link in the comments section here to it’s url. And thank you, Toni, for the heads up on Wordle. And why doesn’t WordPress spell check titles? I’m a horrible speller…and I’m homeschooling.
It’s inevitable. There comes a time in every child’s life when they must be ripped from the safety and security of their loving mother’s bosom and tossed to the hungry, vicious wolves known as 8 year olds. Kids late in their childhood years are fascinated by things that they think they’re getting away with. They’re pushing more serious boundaries for the first time and love the idea of acting older than their chronological age.
The other night we were at a party celebrating finally getting moved in. We were there to relax, eat, enjoy good conversation, play a little Rock Band. Our daughter was there to play, jump on the trampoline, get to know the neighborhood kids more, learn how to cuss. SSSKKKRRRREEEEAAAACCCCHHHHH. Hold on. What?
Yes, while I was jamming out on the drums and Du was rockin’ it on the guitar my daughter was in the other room getting schooled on the different cuss words that all the kids knew. I didn’t find out about it until today. I’m just thanking God that she suddenly remembers these things and tells me. Here’s how it went:
It’s school time. I’m trying to get her to pay attention to the math sheet in front of her.
R: Mom, remember when we were at the cookout last night?
Me: Um, that was two nights ago, so the night before last. (I’m a stickler about getting that right).
R: Yes, that night. We were in Susie Qs room (not her real name). Sally B and Susie Q were telling each other all the bad words they know. (Stalling) Um, I heard one…and don’t…know…what it means…
Me: Well, what did you hear? (Not knowing if my heart could take what was about to come out of her mouth.)
R: What does (spelling out) a. s. s. mean?
I was relieved that it wasn’t one of the “big” ones. I had to keep myself from laughing and also wanting to march over there and snatch some heads bald. In a nice way, of course. I explained to Reagan what it meant and why we don’t say it. She went on to clarify by using it a couple of times in example sentences. It was so hard not to laugh.
My girl is growing up. And I’m actually glad that she’s going to be exposed to some of this and other “older kid” behavior. She needs to learn how to react to the things she’s going to hear, see and learn. She needs to learn how to stick up for herself when things start to take a turn for the worst while she’s at other people’s houses. Homeschooled kids get a bad enough rap for their “lack of socialization” (don’t get me started, and you don’t want to be on the other end of that fight). We’re here for her so we can control the type of socialization she gets and to what degree she gets it.
Meanwhile, it looks like I may need to buy me a couple of bars of soap. We may have a sailor on our hands.
(Lula, this so reminds of the story you were telling me about your little sailor.)
Hi, I’m Vicki. You’ll recognize me once I start telling you about my life again. It seems I haven’t been posting a lot of current stuff that’s been going on around here. Today we’re going to do it Twitter style because, for now, I’ve stopped Twittering. And I’m not limiting myself to 140 characters.
*Ashlyn scares herself every time she steals the keys and sets off the truck alarm. Yet, she. still. does. it. I think it’s actually a toddler Olympic event to see how fast she can run to my lap.
*I’m reading Respectable Sins and am getting pretty convicted. Doesn’t the name itself begin to convict you? I hope to post more about it in the future.
*I’m also just beginning the Beth Moore study Living Beyond Yourself about the fruit of the Spirit. I studied this with some ladies at the turn of the century, but it’s high time I revisited this fruit.
*Kids are not much more than accessories nowadays. Just something I’ve seen down here.
*Crocs have infiltrated themselves way too far into our culture. Moms are having their pretty little girls in their prettiest Sunday dresses (smocked bishop style, just so you know) wear crocs on their feet. The horror! I never have been nor never will be a fan of those shoes. Reagan has outgrown two fake pair that other people have given her. I told her never again will crocs cross the threshold of this house as foot wear choice. Sorry to you diehard fans out there.
*Speaking of darling clothes. Dillards, where have you been all my adult, child-rearing life? You have some seriously cute dresses for my two daughters. And in both respective sizes so they can match. I’ve heard you have great sales. Those dresses probably never stay on the racks long enough to make the sales.
*Speaking of darling clothes on sale. Apparently there are two huge consignment shows here in August that feature lots of those prettiest Sunday dresses. I’m already lamenting selling all the girls’ stuff at my yard sale in April. Had I kept it I could now consign it and be allowed early access to all the smocked goodness. Noted for next year. Wait, I won’t be here next year at this time…
*Since when does Reagan wear an 11 1/2 shoe? Wasn’t she just growing out of the 8s?
*Observed while walking into Target: a couple walking out the in door to shoplift. The magnetic buzzer thingy went off and no one tried to stop them. Target probably has a hands off policy, which prevents them from actually touching a perp anyway. Pansies. I say tackle first, ask questions later.
*Here’s Ashlyn in what I have dubbed “Serenity’s Dress”.
Serenity is my little blog friend with leukemia. Lifting Up Serenity is her website. And if you go to this post you’ll see the dress that inspired the above purchase (and you can read about the 3rd stage of treatment for ALL).
That’s it for now. We’re beginning homeschool today so your prayers for any and everything in my life are coveted (in a good way). Reagan is sleeping in today. What a <i>great</i> way to start off the school year! This will allow me to take a shower. If I press the publish button now.
I’m reserving the right to not post a Friday 13 today. After all it is my blog. In an attempt to own it and not have it own me I’m posting something else today.
Today I’m officially breaking up with many blogs I read.
Baby, I’m gonna leave you…*
This summer I’ve let myself go. I’ve gotten lost in the blogosphere. I’ve met so many new blogs and have subscribed to many of them.
I said baby, you know I’m gonna leave you…
I gave my all to them. I read them. Faithfully. Every post. I commented. Faithfully. Almost every post. I laughed. I cried. I invested a lot of time into getting to know them.
I’ll leave you when the summertime,
Leave you when the summer comes a-rollin’
Leave you when the summer comes along.
Many of those blog owners took the time to answer my comments. Some even commented on my blog. Some even subscribed to my blog. Isn’t that what a relationship is about? Give and take?
Baby, you know I’ve really got to leave you.
Some of the blogs I fell into bloggy love with don’t give and take though. They take. Take my time. Take my visit as a notch on their bloggy stat bedpost. Take my comments. Take away from time with my family. When they aren’t giving me anything. I’m not about that. Never have been. I’m not for fake relationships at all.
I’m gonna leave you, go away.
Who do they think they are to use me as a reader and not give anything in return? Do they think they’re Dooce? ‘Cause I don’t read her either so these kids ain’t worth my time. Maybe they have visited me and don’t care for what I have to say. Well, all the better for me to break up. You don’t read me and I won’t read you.
It was really, really good.
You made me happy every single day.
But now I’ve got to go away.
My first criteria for reading a blog was that it would allow comments. I only read one blog for the sheer purpose of learning while not expecting to give anything back (because he’s so beyond what I could contribute). But that blog still allows comments. And I have actually given my two cents a couple of times. He hasn’t responded. But, as I said, I’m there to learn. Me Grasshopper.
My second criteria for reading a blog was that it had to post the full content in my email inbox or my Google reader, which I sometimes use. I’m not a rabbit. Don’t dangle a carrot in front of me. I’m not a puppy and I willnot follow. I’ve quit reading several really good blogs because I just don’t have the time they’re forcing me to give to click over to their blog to read the actual post. I’m giving enough by reading you and commenting in the first place.
My third criteria will now be this: If I comment on your blog, let’s say five times, and you don’t take the time to at least email me to thank me for commenting then you don’t need my comments or my readership. I’ve never been a groupie and I don’t plan on starting now. (The closest I came was NKOTB. I so would have toured the country with them. A Blockhead instead of a Deadhead. I couldn’t drive though. And my parents weren’t into letting me hitchhike at 13.)
School starts Monday. My life has to regain some normalcy soon. Less time on the computer in general. Specifically, way less time on blogs. Even mine perhaps. No time on blogs that don’t think I’m as important as I thought they were.
It was really, really good.
You made me happy every single day.
But now I’ve got to go away.
Before we get this week’s Story Time up and running I must tell you about the swimmer that Reagan is becoming. Two weeks ago she decided that she wanted to dunk her head under water. No strings attached. She just wanted to. And this decision came from a girl who just the day before was deathly afraid of me holding her in the water trying to get her to kick her legs and paddle with her arms at the same time. What happened is a miracle, that’s all I can guess. Since then she’s been getting bolder and braver about being underwater. Yesterday she began the process of putting the leg/arm motion with the head under water phenomenon. We’ve got an almost swimmer y’all.
Now, on with the show! If you’re new to my Thursdays (or have just been lazy and haven’t taken the time to comment) I’ll fill you in on the details.
Look at picture.
Think about what picture could be about.
Make up story/comment.
Post made up story/comment in comment section.
Make my Thursday!
*********************
Rewind to last week’s picture. Year: 2004. State: Florida. City: Saint Augustine. Place: Alligator Farm. After touching a real live snake (of which I do not have a picture), Reagan climbed onto the real dead alligator for the requisite Alligator Farm photo op. I cannot remember her exact attitude. She doesn’t look too happy to be on it. I can’t remember if she climbed on that willingly and was in the middle of telling me something, thus giving her face a look of disquiet. Or if I forced her onto that thing unwillingly giving her face a look of disquiet. No matter! We got a memory of us at the Alligator Farm. And I doubt it ever actually was a real live alligator, but the word play fit nicely in the sentence.
Per me?!? (Blushing). My friend Toni, over at A Daily Dose of Toni (AKA Just Stop Screaming), and2 Boys 1 Princess, andMomDot passed on a premio to me because my weblog is brillante! Grazie mille!!!
Desidero ringraziare il mio cervello per essere venuti fino a brillante contenuti. (Google Translate)
I’ la d gradice ringraziare il mio cervello per fornire il soddisfare brillante. (Yahoo Babel Fish)
Amerei ringraziare il mio cervello per salire col contenuto brillante. (Free Translation)
Who knew there were so many ways to say thank you!
Now, on with the small print:
Once an award is received, the rules are as follows:
1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
3. Nominate at least seven other blogs.
4. Add links to those blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blog.
I am going to save awarding the premio until sometime in the future. I also still need to pass along the award Nicolegave me. I know, la suspence si uccide.
Not So SAHM 