"I wanna go outside," he announced.
"We are outside, Briggy," I answered.
"No! I mean I want to gooooooo outside," he clarified rather dramatically.
"Ahhh. Go...as in you need to use the potty."
"I want to go outside, not in the potty. Right here. In this bush," he pointed.
"Briggy, you know we don't go pee outside.Only when we are at the park and there are no restrooms. Or on a long trip. Or in the woods. Other than that, we go inside," I reminded.
Yeah, I know that is a lot of excepts, but....he's gifted.
We went inside, and became distracted. Him with his brothers Lego "guys" that he is forbidden to play with but does everyday after everyone has gone to school. And me with my loads and loads and loads of laundry. Okay, so maybe I was watching T.V. and eating something not chocolate, but whatever.
A little while later, I call out for Briggy. I get no response so of course I go looking. I glance out the back door and there he is....squatting. Which wouldn't be so bad if he was just squatting. But this time he was squatting with his pants down.
Remember that boys, when using the restroom, only have to squat for one reason alone. And it isn't number one.
"Briggy! Stop!! Don't do iiiiiit!!!" I shouted out the door.
Shocked, embarrassed, and slightly horrified to be caught in such a vulnerable position, he stood, kicked off his bottoms, and came storming in the house....straight to the potty.
I cleaned him up and was getting ready to retrieve his unders, when my dog runs out the door to investigate. You don't want to know what happens next.
Let's just say that my dog is NOT gifted. Ugh.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
So I Married a Deaf Man: Because I can hear...
As you know, I married a Deaf man. I love telling you about our life. Letting you get a glimpse into the uniqueness of my husband. The querkiness of our relationship. And the insanity we call family life.
But from the very first episode (is that what these are?) in this series I have been avoiding writing this post. Why? Because these feelings are hard to put into words. Hard to define. Impossible to accurately convey. Feelings that close to the heart are kinda that way. And yet, I am going to try.
What is the hardest part being married to a deaf man? It's not the noises that he makes. Nope. The fact that I can't yell at him and feel heard? Some, but no. Perhaps because he sleeps like a rock and nothing moves him? Sadly, it gets harder. So what is it?
The hardest thing about being married to a deaf man is that I can hear.
Crazy, right? You see, life isn't fair for anyone. But it's even less fair for someone who can't hear. And as a wife of that deaf person, you see it all. You are right there with them, fighting that fight. But no matter what I do, it can't always be fair.
I try.
I fight with him...for his equality.
I interpret for him...for his access.
I help educate others...for their ignorance.
I encourage him... for his confidence.
I let him struggle...for his independence.
I love him...for his goodness...and his body...but mostly his goodness.
And still, life isn't fair.
It isn't fair he can't hear his children laugh, cry, coo, sing, fight, and play.
It isn't fair that others are intimidated by him and so instead of trying, avoid him.
It isn't fair that most people see him as disabled, impaired, less than whole.
It isn't fair that our children naturally go to English, leaving him out in his own home.
It isn't fair that in most situations he is alone. Completely and utterly alone.
So much of life isn't fair. So much in life that can't be made right. So much that I wish I could change. And yet....I can't. No matter how hard I try to even the playing field...it will always be just that. Unfair.
He can't hear.
And even though I know and he knows there is nothing I can do about these things, I feel guilt. Not because he says anything. He doesn't complain...ever. He is used to it. Heck, he's been deaf almost his whole life.
But still I feel it. The guilt. Why?
Because I can hear.
But from the very first episode (is that what these are?) in this series I have been avoiding writing this post. Why? Because these feelings are hard to put into words. Hard to define. Impossible to accurately convey. Feelings that close to the heart are kinda that way. And yet, I am going to try.
What is the hardest part being married to a deaf man? It's not the noises that he makes. Nope. The fact that I can't yell at him and feel heard? Some, but no. Perhaps because he sleeps like a rock and nothing moves him? Sadly, it gets harder. So what is it?
The hardest thing about being married to a deaf man is that I can hear.
Crazy, right? You see, life isn't fair for anyone. But it's even less fair for someone who can't hear. And as a wife of that deaf person, you see it all. You are right there with them, fighting that fight. But no matter what I do, it can't always be fair.
I try.
I fight with him...for his equality.
I interpret for him...for his access.
I help educate others...for their ignorance.
I encourage him... for his confidence.
I let him struggle...for his independence.
I love him...for his goodness...and his body...but mostly his goodness.
And still, life isn't fair.
It isn't fair he can't hear his children laugh, cry, coo, sing, fight, and play.
It isn't fair that others are intimidated by him and so instead of trying, avoid him.
It isn't fair that most people see him as disabled, impaired, less than whole.
It isn't fair that our children naturally go to English, leaving him out in his own home.
It isn't fair that in most situations he is alone. Completely and utterly alone.
So much of life isn't fair. So much in life that can't be made right. So much that I wish I could change. And yet....I can't. No matter how hard I try to even the playing field...it will always be just that. Unfair.
He can't hear.
And even though I know and he knows there is nothing I can do about these things, I feel guilt. Not because he says anything. He doesn't complain...ever. He is used to it. Heck, he's been deaf almost his whole life.
But still I feel it. The guilt. Why?
Because I can hear.
Friday, January 25, 2013
If looks could kill....
If looks could kill....
...we would all be dead.
Don't mess with a man and his toast.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Start your engines....
I have a little bit of competitiveness within me. You kinda have to be when you come from a big family. You have to compete for attention. Compete for the hot shower. Compete for that bowl of Lucky Charms.
Survival of the fittest.
That said, I didn't think that I felt that competition for my kids. I, of course, cheer for them when in sports, but I am okay if they don't win, or if the other team scores more goals. I don't get mad at the refs and I don't take a swing at the jerk parent who does.
But for whatever reason, this.....
...Pinewood Derby...does something to me.
It's not that I want my kids to beat other kids. I just want them to do good...aka beat other kids.
You should also know, that Hubs is really good at making fast cars. Wait...I mean my boys are really good at making cars...especially when Hubs helps them.
In years past he has always made winners. But this year I was nervous.
Nervous because we are now on boy child #2 and of course I wanted him to do as good as his older brother.
Nervous because the weigh-in was Monday evening and at 3pm it was still just cut wood.
Nervous because he put the weights on the outside of the car.
I am not sure what I had to be nervous about....
That's my child on the top. Right next to the #1.
He got first place in his den. Oh, and first place overall. He is going to District. He is super excited. Me too.
Survival of the fittest.
That said, I didn't think that I felt that competition for my kids. I, of course, cheer for them when in sports, but I am okay if they don't win, or if the other team scores more goals. I don't get mad at the refs and I don't take a swing at the jerk parent who does.
But for whatever reason, this.....
It's not that I want my kids to beat other kids. I just want them to do good...aka beat other kids.
In years past he has always made winners. But this year I was nervous.
Nervous because we are now on boy child #2 and of course I wanted him to do as good as his older brother.
Nervous because the weigh-in was Monday evening and at 3pm it was still just cut wood.
Nervous because he put the weights on the outside of the car.
I am not sure what I had to be nervous about....
He got first place in his den. Oh, and first place overall. He is going to District. He is super excited. Me too.
Way to go Brody!!
Now if I could just find his scout shirt.....
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Cold is as cold does....
Truth is...I am glad I am not Hubs.
For a lot of reasons.
For starters, I would never be able to find anything in the fridge and that would be frustrating because I, in wife form, wouldn't be there to find it for me, in Hubs' form.
Secondly, if I was him, I wouldn't like to eat onions and that is just sad. Everything tastes better with onions. It tastes even better with green chili. I'm just sayin'.
But mostly I am glad I am not Hubs because I have zero desire to go on Klondike. That's right. Klondike is this weekend! No, I am not talking about those delicious chocolate covered vanilla ice cream squares. Oh, no. I would be all over it if that was what I was talking about.
The Klondike I am talking about is winter camping. This is when a group of men and boys hike into the snowy mountains and spend a day, a night and a day. This does not even sound fun to me. At. All.
Don't get me wrong. I like camping. As in real camping. The kind that doesn't have showers. Or running water. Or electrical outlets. Sleeping in tents, not cabins. And sleeping bags not beds. That's fun! (But not bears. I don't like those.I try and avoid them.) But freezing cold temperatures? Snow? Hiking in that cold snow. Nope. You lost me. Totally and completely out.
Hubs and Kobe are heading out this evening. And Hubs has prepared. They have a few pairs of wool socks. And beanies. And neck warmers. And zero degree sleeping bags. And gloves...two pair. And boots. And long johns. And ponchos. And tarps. And....
Does this sound fun to any of you? Anyone?
My thoughts exactly! (unless you said yes...and then you are farther gone than I am.)
Me? I am planning a nice weekend at home. In my nice warm bed. In my nicely heated home. I may have a cup of warm hot chocolate.
Heck, I may even get myself my own Klondike...
...bar that is.
(I wrote this last Friday...thought it was still worth sharing. FYI, they came home in one half frozen piece, and are fully thawed. Whew!)
For a lot of reasons.
For starters, I would never be able to find anything in the fridge and that would be frustrating because I, in wife form, wouldn't be there to find it for me, in Hubs' form.
Secondly, if I was him, I wouldn't like to eat onions and that is just sad. Everything tastes better with onions. It tastes even better with green chili. I'm just sayin'.
But mostly I am glad I am not Hubs because I have zero desire to go on Klondike. That's right. Klondike is this weekend! No, I am not talking about those delicious chocolate covered vanilla ice cream squares. Oh, no. I would be all over it if that was what I was talking about.
The Klondike I am talking about is winter camping. This is when a group of men and boys hike into the snowy mountains and spend a day, a night and a day. This does not even sound fun to me. At. All.
Don't get me wrong. I like camping. As in real camping. The kind that doesn't have showers. Or running water. Or electrical outlets. Sleeping in tents, not cabins. And sleeping bags not beds. That's fun! (But not bears. I don't like those.I try and avoid them.) But freezing cold temperatures? Snow? Hiking in that cold snow. Nope. You lost me. Totally and completely out.
Hubs and Kobe are heading out this evening. And Hubs has prepared. They have a few pairs of wool socks. And beanies. And neck warmers. And zero degree sleeping bags. And gloves...two pair. And boots. And long johns. And ponchos. And tarps. And....
Does this sound fun to any of you? Anyone?
My thoughts exactly! (unless you said yes...and then you are farther gone than I am.)
Me? I am planning a nice weekend at home. In my nice warm bed. In my nicely heated home. I may have a cup of warm hot chocolate.
Heck, I may even get myself my own Klondike...
...bar that is.
(I wrote this last Friday...thought it was still worth sharing. FYI, they came home in one half frozen piece, and are fully thawed. Whew!)
Monday, January 21, 2013
So I Married a Deaf Man: He got a box
For all his life, Hubs has spoken the "Other" language.
You know, the language that isn't cool enough to be mentioned on job applications. The language not popular enough to be listed on school forms. That language not used enough to be on medical history forms.
Until now.
Today, Hubs had to go to the doctor. He has been complaining of heart pains. Which is totally crazy because he is totally healthy. He exercises 6 days a week. He doesn't smoke, drink or do drugs. Rarely drinks soda. He takes vitamins. See what I mean, healthy.
He must just love me so much that it hurts.
I do that to people.
Anywhoo...
While he was filling out the forms, it asked his primary language. And there is was. For the first time in our history.
You know, the language that isn't cool enough to be mentioned on job applications. The language not popular enough to be listed on school forms. That language not used enough to be on medical history forms.
Until now.
Today, Hubs had to go to the doctor. He has been complaining of heart pains. Which is totally crazy because he is totally healthy. He exercises 6 days a week. He doesn't smoke, drink or do drugs. Rarely drinks soda. He takes vitamins. See what I mean, healthy.
He must just love me so much that it hurts.
I do that to people.
Anywhoo...
While he was filling out the forms, it asked his primary language. And there is was. For the first time in our history.
How totally cool is that? Have you ever seen that before?
Now he doesn't have speak the "Other" language. Now he can simply check the "Sign" box and move on with life...
...and loving me too much.
Finally!!
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Call me maybe.
He knows my number.
My eight year old.
He just memorized my cell phone number.
Now he calls me.
All the time.
And leaves me messages.
Important ones.
Like the one I had on my phone tonight.
"Ummm. Dad won't let us watch a movie. Bye"
My eight year old.
He just memorized my cell phone number.
Now he calls me.
All the time.
And leaves me messages.
Important ones.
Like the one I had on my phone tonight.
"Ummm. Dad won't let us watch a movie. Bye"
.............................
Important indeed.
Oh, and he crotchets.
I love him!
Sure hope he calls me again.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
So I Married a Deaf Man: The LAW
This year, he laid down the law.
Growing up, my parents let us open our presents early Christmas morning. No, like really early. As in 3 or 4am. Crazy, right? Except I loved it. It somehow made Christmas that much more magical.
Hubs' family, on the other hand, did not. I don't think they opened presents until Dec 26th. Okay, so that is a slight exageration. They slept in like normal. Like that's fun. Weee.....snoring.
So for the last 11 years, we have let our kids wake early. Yay for us! Until this year...
"We will not be waking up or opening presents until 6am," he declared. THE LAW.
There was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth...some from me, I admit. But that was it. The LAW had been spoken.
That was it until... 2am when Kobe woke up and woke everyone else up. Which was fine....because they all headed down to the livingroom, looked what Santa had brought them, counted and sorted the presents, then put them back under the tree. No biggie. I was fast asleep so all was well.
Then Brody crawled into bed with me.
"Mom. Why can't we open the presents right now? I can't wait," he begged.
"Honey, everyone else is asleep," I mumbled.
"No they aren't. Everyone else is awake."
"Well, you remember what Daddy said. Not until 6am," I reminded him.
"Why? Why can't we just open them? Please, Mom. Please," he pleaded.
I looked over, and there slept the LAW, oblivious to the begging.
"Nope. But you can sleep right here by me." I rolled over and tried to ignore the begging, which progressively got louder and longer each hour.
Finally, 6am arrived and presents were opened and all was well.
"See, waking up at 6am was so nice. Everyone got enough sleep. We should do it every year," Brian proclaimed.
Maybe he didn't notice the bags under my eyes. All I can say is next year I am sending them to his side of the bed.
Law indeed.
Growing up, my parents let us open our presents early Christmas morning. No, like really early. As in 3 or 4am. Crazy, right? Except I loved it. It somehow made Christmas that much more magical.
Hubs' family, on the other hand, did not. I don't think they opened presents until Dec 26th. Okay, so that is a slight exageration. They slept in like normal. Like that's fun. Weee.....snoring.
So for the last 11 years, we have let our kids wake early. Yay for us! Until this year...
"We will not be waking up or opening presents until 6am," he declared. THE LAW.
There was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth...some from me, I admit. But that was it. The LAW had been spoken.
That was it until... 2am when Kobe woke up and woke everyone else up. Which was fine....because they all headed down to the livingroom, looked what Santa had brought them, counted and sorted the presents, then put them back under the tree. No biggie. I was fast asleep so all was well.
Then Brody crawled into bed with me.
"Mom. Why can't we open the presents right now? I can't wait," he begged.
"Honey, everyone else is asleep," I mumbled.
"No they aren't. Everyone else is awake."
"Well, you remember what Daddy said. Not until 6am," I reminded him.
"Why? Why can't we just open them? Please, Mom. Please," he pleaded.
I looked over, and there slept the LAW, oblivious to the begging.
"Nope. But you can sleep right here by me." I rolled over and tried to ignore the begging, which progressively got louder and longer each hour.
Finally, 6am arrived and presents were opened and all was well.
"See, waking up at 6am was so nice. Everyone got enough sleep. We should do it every year," Brian proclaimed.
Maybe he didn't notice the bags under my eyes. All I can say is next year I am sending them to his side of the bed.
Law indeed.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Blood and guts
Growing up we had two huge weeping willows in our front yard.
They provided so much shade. They provided much work. They provided so much entertainment. They provided so many aphids.
Oh boy did they ever.
If you came to our house at certain times of the year, our porch looked like a small animal was slaughtered there. There were so many of them that you couldn't avoid stepping on them. And if you were little you couldn't resist. There's just something about watching an insect explode.... but that was a long time ago.
That was the reason that my parents had to chop them down and get rid of them. I loved those trees.
It's so funny because when I think back about those trees, this one memory always comes back to me. I must have been in 5th grade because I remember being excited that I had made the decision to bath everyday, whether I needed it or not. (Hey, don't knock it. 8 kids in one family. Bathing was the least of my mother's worries.)
I remember having my yellow bathrobe on....and I am pretty sure undies. And that was it. I remember climbing the tree (because that's what everyone does in their bathrobe) and swinging off a rope that was tied to the branch. As I was swinging, the wind was blowing my robe open. I remember thinking to myself, "This is probably not the best idea."
Not sure why I remember this so well.
.....
.....
.....
Yeah, the aphid story seemed much more interesting.
They provided so much shade. They provided much work. They provided so much entertainment. They provided so many aphids.
Oh boy did they ever.
If you came to our house at certain times of the year, our porch looked like a small animal was slaughtered there. There were so many of them that you couldn't avoid stepping on them. And if you were little you couldn't resist. There's just something about watching an insect explode.... but that was a long time ago.
That was the reason that my parents had to chop them down and get rid of them. I loved those trees.
It's so funny because when I think back about those trees, this one memory always comes back to me. I must have been in 5th grade because I remember being excited that I had made the decision to bath everyday, whether I needed it or not. (Hey, don't knock it. 8 kids in one family. Bathing was the least of my mother's worries.)
I remember having my yellow bathrobe on....and I am pretty sure undies. And that was it. I remember climbing the tree (because that's what everyone does in their bathrobe) and swinging off a rope that was tied to the branch. As I was swinging, the wind was blowing my robe open. I remember thinking to myself, "This is probably not the best idea."
Not sure why I remember this so well.
.....
.....
.....
Yeah, the aphid story seemed much more interesting.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Oh man! Not that smell....
I finally took my kids to Hotel Transylvania.
Yeah, I know I'm only three months late. Hey man, when you are taking a family of seven to the movies, the dollar theatre is the only way to go, especially since lately the movies made for kids have been "ehhh" at best.
Overall it was....ehh. It might have been better if the girl behind me hadn't been wearing grandma perfume. You all know the one I am talking about.
It has a distinct smell, that I can't quite describe. But when you smell it, you know it belongs on a grandma. It is for this reason I know I could never work in a nursing home. Okay, so yeah, there are many reasons why...I'm not a doctor for one. I wouldn't look cute in scrubs. I cheat at BINGO. But the smell...it would be too much.
I am not sure at what age you are required to wear it. I am thinking that it might be a right of passage... or some unspoken rule...that I just spoke. I am not sure, but I don't think anyone would purchase that perfume by choice.
Except they did. And she did. She had to only have been in her 20's. What was she thinking? And of course she would have to sit right behind me. And of course there were no more aisles with 7 seats all together. And of course I couldn't very well trade seats with any of my kids because what kind of mother exposes her wee ones to such nastiness.
Please tell me you know smell I am talking about. Please tell me if you are a grandma that you don't wear that smell.
At least not to the dollar theatre.
Yeah, I know I'm only three months late. Hey man, when you are taking a family of seven to the movies, the dollar theatre is the only way to go, especially since lately the movies made for kids have been "ehhh" at best.
Overall it was....ehh. It might have been better if the girl behind me hadn't been wearing grandma perfume. You all know the one I am talking about.
It has a distinct smell, that I can't quite describe. But when you smell it, you know it belongs on a grandma. It is for this reason I know I could never work in a nursing home. Okay, so yeah, there are many reasons why...I'm not a doctor for one. I wouldn't look cute in scrubs. I cheat at BINGO. But the smell...it would be too much.
I am not sure at what age you are required to wear it. I am thinking that it might be a right of passage... or some unspoken rule...that I just spoke. I am not sure, but I don't think anyone would purchase that perfume by choice.
Except they did. And she did. She had to only have been in her 20's. What was she thinking? And of course she would have to sit right behind me. And of course there were no more aisles with 7 seats all together. And of course I couldn't very well trade seats with any of my kids because what kind of mother exposes her wee ones to such nastiness.
Please tell me you know smell I am talking about. Please tell me if you are a grandma that you don't wear that smell.
At least not to the dollar theatre.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Do the Limbo
I'm not loving this winter.
It's not because we haven't had snow...although I wish we would. And no, you can't call that sprinkling that looked like frost as a snow storm.
It isn't because the winds have been so chilling that my toes won't warm up for a week. We've had those winds and we ain't had any of those either.
The biggest reason why I haven't been feeling love for this winter is because we are stuck in the half-way-almost-there-not-quite weather.
My kids are making me crazy. They want to wear shorts because it really isn't cold enough to motivate them to put on pants. You know. "The natural consequences will help them learn that I am right." Yeah, that isn't working this year.
"Son, why are you in shorts? It's 40 degrees outside."
"It isn't cold, Mom. I'm fine."
"You have to put on a coat to jump on the tramp."
"I don't need a coat. It will make me sweat."
"Put on your socks! Your ankles are going to freeze!" No wait, I said that to myself. Nevermind.
Maybe this shows how much of a push-over I am, but in the past it only took them once out the door in December and they turned over their shorts willingly. As of this moment, I have only collected shorts from two of my five.
Can you even imagine how many clothes I have out. I am washing shorts and sweatshirts. T-shirts and turtle necks. (Kidding. No-one is wearing turtle necks in our house. Haha...that would be silly. Awkward silence.) As if I needed more laundry.
In case I haven't told you before, I hate laundry. Almost as much as I hate grocery shopping. Which is only slightly more than I hate mustard. But sweet pickles are a close third. But I digress.
Either snow or warm up already.
I don't limbo very well.
It's not because we haven't had snow...although I wish we would. And no, you can't call that sprinkling that looked like frost as a snow storm.
It isn't because the winds have been so chilling that my toes won't warm up for a week. We've had those winds and we ain't had any of those either.
The biggest reason why I haven't been feeling love for this winter is because we are stuck in the half-way-almost-there-not-quite weather.
My kids are making me crazy. They want to wear shorts because it really isn't cold enough to motivate them to put on pants. You know. "The natural consequences will help them learn that I am right." Yeah, that isn't working this year.
"Son, why are you in shorts? It's 40 degrees outside."
"It isn't cold, Mom. I'm fine."
"You have to put on a coat to jump on the tramp."
"I don't need a coat. It will make me sweat."
"Put on your socks! Your ankles are going to freeze!" No wait, I said that to myself. Nevermind.
Maybe this shows how much of a push-over I am, but in the past it only took them once out the door in December and they turned over their shorts willingly. As of this moment, I have only collected shorts from two of my five.
Can you even imagine how many clothes I have out. I am washing shorts and sweatshirts. T-shirts and turtle necks. (Kidding. No-one is wearing turtle necks in our house. Haha...that would be silly. Awkward silence.) As if I needed more laundry.
In case I haven't told you before, I hate laundry. Almost as much as I hate grocery shopping. Which is only slightly more than I hate mustard. But sweet pickles are a close third. But I digress.
Either snow or warm up already.
I don't limbo very well.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Puzzled
I love puzzles.
It's kinda a Christmas tradition with me. Only I haven't been able to do this tradition since I had kids. You know, with the little ones eating the pieces it would have been impossible to finish...oh...wait. Ahem... I mean too much of a choking hazard for the little ones.
(Just to clarify they would be choking on the puzzle pieces...not me choking them. Just so we're clear.)
Until this year, that is.
Puzzles in the house, baby! Whoop! Whoop!
I busted out the puzzles and my house has gone to pot. (Not the legal kind, sillies. The messy kind.) Once I get started I can't stop. I become completely oblivious to what is going on around me.
Want proof?
This is what happened this morning while I was doing a puzzle. And I am being completely honest when I say I had no clue until I turned around and there it was.
Woah!
How did I not hear this happening.
I nust reeeeally like puzzles.
It's kinda a Christmas tradition with me. Only I haven't been able to do this tradition since I had kids. You know, with the little ones eating the pieces it would have been impossible to finish...oh...wait. Ahem... I mean too much of a choking hazard for the little ones.
(Just to clarify they would be choking on the puzzle pieces...not me choking them. Just so we're clear.)
Until this year, that is.
Puzzles in the house, baby! Whoop! Whoop!
I busted out the puzzles and my house has gone to pot. (Not the legal kind, sillies. The messy kind.) Once I get started I can't stop. I become completely oblivious to what is going on around me.
Want proof?
This is what happened this morning while I was doing a puzzle. And I am being completely honest when I say I had no clue until I turned around and there it was.
How did I not hear this happening.
I nust reeeeally like puzzles.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Political post....warning
My heart was broken. When I found out the news about the Sandy Hook shooting. I sat down and mourned for hours. The last 4 minutes of the victims' lives was too much for me to think about. Those left with an empty space in their family tore me apart. So much loss. Loss of life. Loss of innocence. Loss of humanity.
I prayed. Still pray.
It was too much for me to even blog about. Any time I would think about it, my heart would break all over again. Even still. Even still.
I usually don't blog too much about politics on this here blog, but today I will.
It was not guns who killed those children. No more than it was an airplane who killed all those people in the World Trade Centers. It was a crazy man. A man who felt so little that killing children was not an issue for him. He was insane.
So why is it now okay to start stomping on the Constitution? Why are we banning guns? Taking away our guns is not going to stop crazy people from shooting people anymore than banning airplanes will stop terrorists.
The reason we have the constitutional right to bear arms is to protect us from the government. A government that does not fear it's people is a scary government indeed. I have a constitutional right to protect my family, from intruders, from crazies, and from the government if need be. And whether I use a rifle, a hand gun, a semi-automatic, or a tank really isn't the government's business. If the government can have it, why can't I?
It is a horrible horrible thing that this crazy man did with a gun. And it was a horrible horrible thing that those terrorists did with exacto knives and airplanes. Let's work on protecting ourselves against crazy people.
That's the real threat.
I prayed. Still pray.
It was too much for me to even blog about. Any time I would think about it, my heart would break all over again. Even still. Even still.
I usually don't blog too much about politics on this here blog, but today I will.
It was not guns who killed those children. No more than it was an airplane who killed all those people in the World Trade Centers. It was a crazy man. A man who felt so little that killing children was not an issue for him. He was insane.
So why is it now okay to start stomping on the Constitution? Why are we banning guns? Taking away our guns is not going to stop crazy people from shooting people anymore than banning airplanes will stop terrorists.
The reason we have the constitutional right to bear arms is to protect us from the government. A government that does not fear it's people is a scary government indeed. I have a constitutional right to protect my family, from intruders, from crazies, and from the government if need be. And whether I use a rifle, a hand gun, a semi-automatic, or a tank really isn't the government's business. If the government can have it, why can't I?
It is a horrible horrible thing that this crazy man did with a gun. And it was a horrible horrible thing that those terrorists did with exacto knives and airplanes. Let's work on protecting ourselves against crazy people.
That's the real threat.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
It's out!
I will not eat any candy this year.
All year.
365 days.
Not a single one.
I will not.
Don't tempt me.
My spirit is stronger than my flesh.
It's just my taste buds that are weak.
My hips too wide.
My pants too tight.
Sigh....
Candy my weakness.
But not anymore.
Not this year.
Uh-uh.
Nope.
Not happening.
Pray for me........please.
All year.
365 days.
Not a single one.
I will not.
Don't tempt me.
My spirit is stronger than my flesh.
It's just my taste buds that are weak.
My hips too wide.
My pants too tight.
Sigh....
Candy my weakness.
But not anymore.
Not this year.
Uh-uh.
Nope.
Not happening.
Pray for me........please.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Live Life Intentionally
An accident: an unforeseen and unplanned event or circumstance.
This is how I feel I have been living my life lately. Just going with whatever. Not really making things happen but rather watching them unfold. Not really how I want to live my life. I don't want to look back and wish I would have done this or I should have done that.
Intentional: done with intention or on purpose.
I want to be happy...on purpose. I want to be healthy...on purpose. I want to have a burning testimony of my Savior...on purpose. I want to have an eternal family...on purpose. I want my kids to be responsible and valiant and charitable...on purpose. I want a smooth running house...on purpose. I want to laugh more and have fun...on purpose.
It all can be. But it has to be done intentionally. It takes effort. It takes willpower. It takes planning. It takes prioritizing.
And so, that is why my word for 2013 is "Intentionally." I am going to live each day intentionally.
What's your word?
This is how I feel I have been living my life lately. Just going with whatever. Not really making things happen but rather watching them unfold. Not really how I want to live my life. I don't want to look back and wish I would have done this or I should have done that.
Intentional: done with intention or on purpose.
I want to be happy...on purpose. I want to be healthy...on purpose. I want to have a burning testimony of my Savior...on purpose. I want to have an eternal family...on purpose. I want my kids to be responsible and valiant and charitable...on purpose. I want a smooth running house...on purpose. I want to laugh more and have fun...on purpose.
It all can be. But it has to be done intentionally. It takes effort. It takes willpower. It takes planning. It takes prioritizing.
And so, that is why my word for 2013 is "Intentionally." I am going to live each day intentionally.
What's your word?
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