My place to think out loud or share the ridiculous
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A few days ago, my son asked me if AIS was a swear word. Feeling I was in the moment of teaching and openness, I said, "No, son. A-S-S is a swear word." Guess what my son wrote in big caps with giant chalk and lots of glee? Drrrrr.
My son hid himself in the blankets of our bed yesterday. He shouted out, "Mom, Dad come I'm lost, come find me!" I whispered, "If I were a sibling I would pop him on the head and say, 'looks like I found you.' " My husband looked at me with puzzlement, " I wouldn't have done that. I don't think my siblings would have done that. What kind of family did you come from?" I gave him a deer in head lights stare-- hmmmm, I thought: a pack of hyenas, blame the brothers, lack of supervision in the home, is he serious, am I just cruel, what for the love is the right answer here? I never did answer the question. He could have been dead on fooling me. Or, he could be right, what kind of family did I come from? Or, worse, do I just have spontaneous evil that springs from the dark recesses of my heart?...........still waiting, guess I just don't have an answer.
Last year, as 39 crept into the door, I purchased an internet deal on facials. No big deal. I was feeling the quiet tickle of old-age on my face. Chemical peels seemed to be the answer. One year later and I had finally got around to redeeming the specials. I hate wasting money more than age spots. Having done this before, I was looking forward to a dark room and pleasant smelling stuff on my face. At the time, it did not concern me that I had a different esthetician. Sure, it burned a little more. It was probably working. During the weekend my face went from red like a sunburn to "who drug your face behind a skateboard?" I hunkered at home like a pimply thirteen-year-old. That Sunday, I was in charge of getting the children to sing loudly for Father's Day. No sweat, they always sing so cheerfully for me. In addition, I knew my local gathering of church goers was going to realize I was pregnant. (Yeah, did I mention I was pregnant?) This perfect storm of s...
There are tales out there of spacey pregnant women. Science even backs the notion a pregnant woman's brain loses some power. Oy! I have been losing stuff to the point of crazy. I'm ready to throw until I find everything. Step back-- it could get ugly. I really want that home where it is like an Ikea closet. You open the doors and it has labels, links and matching containers. Each time I go the Ikea or Pottery Barn site, I believe brother! My husband reminds me that baskets will not solve the world's problems. I'm not sure. For now my missing in action list is pathetic and long. It includes: book bag for the library--I love the library this is serious beautiful, green leather scriptures my husband just bought me wedding ring (this sounds bad, left low by the lotion bottle). Sadly, we really can't find it. silver pendant which was a gift from my MIL--it slipped off my neck, I'm sensing a theme a DVD I rented and never saw numerous small things like sandal...
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