As I have mentioned in earlier blog postings, I grew up in an all girl family. Naturally, I would be a girl mom. I would have only girls, we would do dress-up, paint fingernails, play barbies, talk about boys, shop, and swap purses. However, God saw fit to give me only one daughter and THREE boys! Yikes!
Before I had kids I used to wonder who would like little boys? Why would a mom want to have little boys? They aren't nearly as fun to dress and they couldn't possibly be cute and loving. All little boys just looked the same to me...much like Asian people look to me...they all just look the same. But God has taught me that the heart of a boy can be just as loving, caring, fun and tender as the heart of a girl.
Let me back up a second, though, and let me have a moment to bask in the joy of being the mom of a daughter. Today is my daughter's birthday...she is 19 and away at college. Today is the first time EVER that I haven't hugged and kissed her on her birthday...kind of stings a little. (wipe tear) I thoroughly enjoyed being the mom of a daughter...and since I only had one, I did it up right! No one can tell me that 75 dresses in her first three years was too many. Afterall, she was the only girl. Ok, yes, I didn't know I wouldn't have another one but somehow I am guessing that the Lord impressed upon my heart the need to go all out. We did everything--I went on all the field trips, always baked a beautiful cake for birthdays and had family over, we did slumber parties, shopped a lot (Lauren's first word was "clearance") I did her hair everyday with bows, curling irons and hairspray, took lots of pictures, cried with her over girl drama, bought school dance dresses, threw a sweet 16 party and enjoyed prom as much as she did. I even got her TWO dresses for graduation because you just can't have the same dress in pictures--one for the open house, one for the ceremony. It has been a wonderful, girly kind of time raising her. Now she is a beautiful-on-the-inside-as-she-is-on-the-outside young lady who loves Jesus and lives her life for Him. What better reward could a parent want?
But, now, let's talk about boys. Boys are so different in so many ways. For instance--they don't care about clothes--at all. Jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and tennis shoes in boy colors serves them all and for all functions. (Boy colors = black, blue, green but not lime, brown but not tan, and occasionally red) And since my boys were back to back to back, October, November, and December the seasons all matched and there were LOTS of hand-me-downs, which would never work with girls. My youngest once said, "Mom, can I just please have some clothes with tags on them?" Um, yeah. Even though he didn't need anything I went THAT DAY to buy him something new. And boys do not understand the need for wearing nice clothes, they are just clothes and what difference does it make if they have khakis and a polo shirt vs. Levis and a Nike T? Duh, mom.
They also like critters. None of my three boys have ever been afraid or creeped out or squeemish about any kind of critter. Snakes, frogs, toads, crayfish, lizzards, turtles. (WHAT is it with reptiles and amphibians?) They see them, they catch them. It is in their DNA. In addition to the typical pets of cats and dogs, requests have been made for the following (and I am NOT joking): a joey, pufferfish, a bearded dragon, chinchilla, komodo dragon, shark. I have seen them pick up any kind of insect or spider without hesitation and it is especially pleasing to them to come at Mom with a june bug!
With boys you are also likely to have just about anything anywhere: basketball on the kitchen floor, army guys in your purse, Nutrigrain bars without the wrapper in their pockets, socks in the sandbox, toybox, front closet, couch cracks, kitchen table, bucket in the garage, outside window well, bathtub, in the pocket behind the drivers seat. You may also find your kitchen utensils and silverware in the yard, under their bed, in the video games, in the garage by the toolbox. You may find matchbox cars in YOUR closet, a soccerball in their overnight bag (but NOT a toothbrush), video game cartridges on the roof, dog collars in the dishwasher (ok, that one was my doing.)
They will also try anything: eating a worm because Bear Grylls does, lighing a fire with flint (oh, boys LOVE fire!), eating snails on a cruise, and climbing and jumping from the following: the roof, a cliff with posted "Do Not Climb" signs, the top bar of the swingset, the highest limb in your backyard or your neighbor's, the top of any fence, the highest shelf in the garage, or the highest cliff-diving rock at the lake. However, before such fetes are attempted, they must first spit or pee off said high place and/or throw at least one rock.
Boys don't mind sweat or odor either. And the harder they play the more of both you get. Numerous shoes have been discarded because they simply stink too bad. They never hang up a towel and if, on rare occasion, they don't leave it on the floor it lands in the hamper where it soaks and stinks up the rest of the laundry. Boys do not unpack leftover sandwiches from sack lunches--odor. They do not take a shower at camp--odor. They do not brush their teeth without reminder--odor. They leave worms in a cup on the deck--odor. They cage a snapping turtle and leave him on your counter--odor. They belch and pass gas--odor.
But though the saying is "Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what girls are made of" I think the saying should and does apply to boys as well. Boys love their mom and no matter what, when they are hurt or sick or sad or hungry or need football clothes washed or help with a school project or an exact replica of the Eiffle Tower the next day for school or a field trip buddy or their back rubbed at night or a corsage for a girl for a school dance, they ALL want mom--her help, her encouragement, her direction, her touch. They want Mom to call the teacher, Mom to look at any owies, bruises, warts, bumps, weird things on their bodies, even in private places, Mom to cuddle with them in the evening watching TV, Mom to talk with about friend issues, Mom to bring them toast and soup when they are sick. Boys think their Mom is pretty, can do anything, cook anything, fix anything, diagnose anything, and pray anything away at night so they can sleep.
I never thought in a million years that I would enjoy a replay of a football game beautifully acted out with rocks on the front porch. I never thought I would enjoy wiffle ball with hats, trees, and bare spots as bases. I never thought I would enjoy wrestling matches, and yes the associated odor. I never thought I would enjoy the joy a boy gets as he proudly shows off the biggest frog on the planet that he caught with his bare hands. I never thought I would enjoy 9 innings of T-ball (ok, that one I don't) but when your kid is playing--even if he is air-guitaring in the outfield--I love being there and watching him. I have grown to love stinky shoes, full jean pockets in the laundry room, wet towels on the floor, missing silverware, mismatched socks, reminding my boys to brush their teeth, yelling "be careful" a half a dozen times a day, and finding their treasures all over (and I do mean ALL OVER) the house. These things I love. These are the things that are beautiful reminders of the joys of boys. Mix in a backrub or two, a "K thanks" text or two, a kiss on the cheek at bedtime, and always an "I love you" as they head up to the bus and I am good! I don't need them to shop, I am fine with a buzz cut, I am getting used to the smells, t-shirts make mornings a whole lot easier, and balls in my kitchen and army guys in my purse are just fine by me. Because all of these things are evidence of God's great, great love for me. He has lovingly and perfectly planned to graciously allow me to be the mother of boys.
Blessed, blessed, lucky, lucky me.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Things I Have Learned
As the season changes from summer to fall I am reflecting back on many things over the past few weeks that have allowed me to see life differently. I am so grateful that after 43 years of my life I am still learning and gaining new perspectives. Here are some things I have learned in the past five weeks:
1. 12 year olds DO NOT use a daily planner...no matter how hard you try to train them, they simply
don't. And don't ask them to be organized or think of anything else besides the current sport:
football.
2. Take your calcium. After 66 years my mother broke a hip. Did you read that age? I said 66 not
86. Broken hips are, to quote Dr. Lash, "...always, always, always, always, always weak bones."
3. Broken hips are not meant to be walked on even after pinned and 66 year old women are stubborn.
4. Water is just simply not your friend...if it is anywhere besides in or on your body. After owning a
home for nearly 20 years I have to say the single biggest headache a homeowner has is water.
5. The puking flu can last as long as 7 days and even adults can get dehydrated.
6. Pennsylvania is really spelled P-e-n-c-i-l-v-a-n-e-y-a.
7. Football pants should never, never, never be white and "All" is not the stainlifter.
8. Lightbulbs, sticks of butter (including the wrapper), Crocs, and fuzz from inside a stuffed football
ARE all parts of a well-balanced diet of a Golden Doodle.
9. The devil wants you to fail. He is setting you up to look like a fool, to lose your cool, to stand in
the way, ruin the words that you say.
10. Friends with grace are lovely friends.
11. Garage sales are a pain in the neck but it feels...oh, so good to purge!
12. Sump pump cost: $201.39 A dry basement: priceless!
13. One can never have too many Christmas decorations no matter what anyone says!
14. Learning to be a parent of an adult child can be more difficult than parenting a toddler.
15. Most teenagers do not say thank you.
16. God is sovereign in every circumstance. Ok, I knew that one already but it never hurts (ok,
maybe it does a little) to learn a lesson twice, I mean three, ten, fifty times.
1. 12 year olds DO NOT use a daily planner...no matter how hard you try to train them, they simply
don't. And don't ask them to be organized or think of anything else besides the current sport:
football.
2. Take your calcium. After 66 years my mother broke a hip. Did you read that age? I said 66 not
86. Broken hips are, to quote Dr. Lash, "...always, always, always, always, always weak bones."
3. Broken hips are not meant to be walked on even after pinned and 66 year old women are stubborn.
4. Water is just simply not your friend...if it is anywhere besides in or on your body. After owning a
home for nearly 20 years I have to say the single biggest headache a homeowner has is water.
5. The puking flu can last as long as 7 days and even adults can get dehydrated.
6. Pennsylvania is really spelled P-e-n-c-i-l-v-a-n-e-y-a.
7. Football pants should never, never, never be white and "All" is not the stainlifter.
8. Lightbulbs, sticks of butter (including the wrapper), Crocs, and fuzz from inside a stuffed football
ARE all parts of a well-balanced diet of a Golden Doodle.
9. The devil wants you to fail. He is setting you up to look like a fool, to lose your cool, to stand in
the way, ruin the words that you say.
10. Friends with grace are lovely friends.
11. Garage sales are a pain in the neck but it feels...oh, so good to purge!
12. Sump pump cost: $201.39 A dry basement: priceless!
13. One can never have too many Christmas decorations no matter what anyone says!
14. Learning to be a parent of an adult child can be more difficult than parenting a toddler.
15. Most teenagers do not say thank you.
16. God is sovereign in every circumstance. Ok, I knew that one already but it never hurts (ok,
maybe it does a little) to learn a lesson twice, I mean three, ten, fifty times.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Reflections of a Hassled Maytag Mom
Well, five days down, 175 to go. I am not quite back into the swing of things this school year and it shows in my mood. I woke up this morning the biggest grouch, despite the fact I am quite sure I was asleep before 10:30. In my head this week I would say, "This is the first Monday of the whole school year, this is the first Wednesday night I have to work of the whole school year, this is the first time I will clean the whole house by myself on the first Thursday of the whole school year." Thus begins the grind of...the school year. I think that is/was the source of my grouchiness...
Unlike many parents I know, I love school breaks. I love when my kids are home and we sleep in and don't get out of our jammies until 10. I love fixing lunch of macaroni and cheese. I love the evenings when there is freedom from homework, assignment notebook signage, rounding up the lost shoes, sorting papers from the backpacks and pulling out uneaten snacks that were smashed in the bottom. The hassle of Infinite Campus and trying to decipher exactly what is a "Who Am I" Frame that was missing and not being able to see or access 4 out of the seven classes on one of my kids is irritating to me. Why can't they just get the bugs worked out of that system and have all teachers use it and use it consistently?
I like no-school nights so that the kids can finish a movie or read late because they can sleep in--and I love knowing that when Tom kisses me good-bye in the morning I have the privilege of rolling over and dozing to the sound of "Good Morning America." Now, if I could just get him to make me coffee on those mornings...
The school year also brings an increase in the hassle of laundry...oh, my! Did you know that if you shut the door on your laundry room dirty laundry actually breeds? It is true! And now...spending the day in swim trunks is no longer an option! School clothes no longer exist...they are ALL football, kickball, lunch-stained, grass stained attire. It is all the same. Shorts and t-shirts are eventually exchanged for jeans and sweatshirts, thus doubling the size of the behind-closed-doors breeding. And I swear the makers of Shout are making a fortune on me! What is in grass and mud today? It is just not like it used to be. Miss a day in the laundry room, miss a lot. It takes forever to catch up and once you get behind, particularly on boxers, you never catch up. Oh, did I fail to mention that boxers and socks are exempt from the closed-door breeding policy? Well they are...Target and Kohls are right behind Shout in underwear/sock replacement costs. Sometimes I think my kids think that socks are disposable...like a kleenex, use once and toss out! One time we actually found 27 lost socks in the basement! My mom asked me a few years back, when I was telling her that yet another pair of jeans had holes and I needed to buy more, why I didn't make my kids change their clothes after school. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? That would double my laundry...I would rather buy new jeans!
But this morning, as I was ironing my boys' church shirts God gently reminded me (and believe me, I didn't deserve gentle at all) that I could have no kids to iron for, do laundry for, help with math, cheer on at a football game, tear up over when one sings a beautiful choir solo, to invite a backyard of school friends for a football game. I could have no A+ papers to display on my fridge, no bookfairs to attend, no valentines to help write, no band concerts to attend, no field trips to chaperone, and never hearing the sound of "Pomp and Circumstance" at the end of 13 wonderful, laundry-filled, project-laiden, schedule juggling, backpack sorting years.
I am the luckiest launderess in the world!
Unlike many parents I know, I love school breaks. I love when my kids are home and we sleep in and don't get out of our jammies until 10. I love fixing lunch of macaroni and cheese. I love the evenings when there is freedom from homework, assignment notebook signage, rounding up the lost shoes, sorting papers from the backpacks and pulling out uneaten snacks that were smashed in the bottom. The hassle of Infinite Campus and trying to decipher exactly what is a "Who Am I" Frame that was missing and not being able to see or access 4 out of the seven classes on one of my kids is irritating to me. Why can't they just get the bugs worked out of that system and have all teachers use it and use it consistently?
I like no-school nights so that the kids can finish a movie or read late because they can sleep in--and I love knowing that when Tom kisses me good-bye in the morning I have the privilege of rolling over and dozing to the sound of "Good Morning America." Now, if I could just get him to make me coffee on those mornings...
The school year also brings an increase in the hassle of laundry...oh, my! Did you know that if you shut the door on your laundry room dirty laundry actually breeds? It is true! And now...spending the day in swim trunks is no longer an option! School clothes no longer exist...they are ALL football, kickball, lunch-stained, grass stained attire. It is all the same. Shorts and t-shirts are eventually exchanged for jeans and sweatshirts, thus doubling the size of the behind-closed-doors breeding. And I swear the makers of Shout are making a fortune on me! What is in grass and mud today? It is just not like it used to be. Miss a day in the laundry room, miss a lot. It takes forever to catch up and once you get behind, particularly on boxers, you never catch up. Oh, did I fail to mention that boxers and socks are exempt from the closed-door breeding policy? Well they are...Target and Kohls are right behind Shout in underwear/sock replacement costs. Sometimes I think my kids think that socks are disposable...like a kleenex, use once and toss out! One time we actually found 27 lost socks in the basement! My mom asked me a few years back, when I was telling her that yet another pair of jeans had holes and I needed to buy more, why I didn't make my kids change their clothes after school. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? That would double my laundry...I would rather buy new jeans!
But this morning, as I was ironing my boys' church shirts God gently reminded me (and believe me, I didn't deserve gentle at all) that I could have no kids to iron for, do laundry for, help with math, cheer on at a football game, tear up over when one sings a beautiful choir solo, to invite a backyard of school friends for a football game. I could have no A+ papers to display on my fridge, no bookfairs to attend, no valentines to help write, no band concerts to attend, no field trips to chaperone, and never hearing the sound of "Pomp and Circumstance" at the end of 13 wonderful, laundry-filled, project-laiden, schedule juggling, backpack sorting years.
I am the luckiest launderess in the world!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
I Love Being a Woman
Today I decided to start a blog. If you read my first posting then you know why I am blogging. But, aside from my friend who encouraged me, I really decided to because of six women I don’t even know.
I was having brunch with a friend today and she left the table to use the restroom. I was facing a table of six women, all chatting happily and loudly with one another. Now, normally I would feel a bit of jealousy because I was not a part of a group...but how silly would that be since I didn’t even know them? But today, I smiled as I watched this group of women—one in a black tank top, one with a multi-colored designer purse, one with the color of blond hair I wish I had, one with a cell phone making arrangements to pick up her child from preschool. Each different but all sharing the same secrets of being a woman that no man will ever have the joy of knowing. And, oh, I loved what I saw and thought to myself how much I love being a woman! The psalmist says in Psalm 139:13 “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.” How awesome it is that God created me as a woman and that I would so enjoy everything about the feminine world!
I love being a woman. I have loved being a girl ever since I knew I was a girl--I mean, not a boy. I grew up in a home with two sisters, one older and one younger. My mom, of course, was a girl and I had a boy dad. That is just the way things were...there were no same-sex parent families (that I knew of and still actually don't) and each parent had a well-defined role. Mom was the caregiver...she bathed us, fed us, clothed us, told us when to take a nap, when to get up for school, decided when we needed new shoes, bought the birthday presents. Mom took us to doctor when we were sick, to apologize to the neighbor for picking her flowers without permission, to Vacation Bible school, to the grocery store to buy our first feminine hygiene products. She soothed an upset tummy, a broken heart, and tension between father and daughter after driving lessons. She taught us how to be a friend, a mommy, and a cook.
Daddy had a much different role. He was the provider of all. He went to work, fixed the car, roto-rootered the drains, paid the bills, and planted the garden. He is the one who ate the leftovers, cleaned the gutters, tin-foiled the bunny ears, and always, always ate bread and butter with supper. He also taught me math and how to drive, you know, those non-mom tasks.
Although I have the deepest respect and love for both of my parents and the "things" they did for our family, I have never wanted to be male, the dad, the provider, the strong . I don't like plaid shirts, power tools, back-pocket wallets, driving the crappy car of the family, or getting the lawn chairs down from the top of the garage. I don't like opening the super-glue-stuck pickle jar or un-jamming the garbage disposer. I don't like deodorant soap, calf-high socks, or carrying my keys in my front pocket. I don’t like golf on TV, wing tips, or color choices narrowed to blue, black, and brown. And I don't like getting any bugs out of the house...which we all know, of course, is the man's job.
No, being female is so much more pleasant and gratifying. I love the colors and smells and choices of being female. I love having every choice of color and pattern in everything...shirts, shoes, furniture, checkbook covers. Floral, stripes, abstract, modern, traditional, bling, belted, scrunched, flouncy, casual. Pink, red, teal, green, and colors that sound like food like plumberry, bagel, cinnamon, pumpkin, lime (especially lime), and lasagna (just kidding!) I love perfumes and powders and lotions and candles and soft soap and bubble bath and body cream, mousse, butter, and balm. I love flip-flops, high heels, tennis shoes, flats, sandals, clogs, and boots. I love any kind of purse which also comes in any of the above combinations of patterns and colors...not to mention style--clutch, hobo, satchel, with or without a long strap, some with lights inside, some with zippers, magnet closings, flaps, and all with a cell phone place.
But more than the things I like about being female are, well, other kinds of things. I like the door opened for me and knowing that most men, no matter where you are, will always open a door for you as you enter a public place. I like the traditional American option of being the stay-at-home parent and that that is completely "normal." I love several conversations with lots women around a table all taking place at the same time and being able to keep an ear on all of them and being able jump in and out of any one of them and not lose a beat. I like that I am the one who gets to be pregnant and bring new life into this world. I like to cry when I need to and that that is OK. I like chick flicks, shopping all day, having morning coffee with a friend that lasts until after lunch, wearing a nightgown, getting flowers, writing thank you notes. I love being the one my child wants most in the world when they are sick or sad. I love the range of emotions that I have and knowing that my girlfriends have them too and we all "get it" when you are crushed your husband doesn't notice that the house is dirty when you need him to or your daughter didn't get invited to a birthday party.
Yes, I love being a woman. The colorful, multi-faceted, emotional, fragrant, life-giving thrill of being a woman!
I was having brunch with a friend today and she left the table to use the restroom. I was facing a table of six women, all chatting happily and loudly with one another. Now, normally I would feel a bit of jealousy because I was not a part of a group...but how silly would that be since I didn’t even know them? But today, I smiled as I watched this group of women—one in a black tank top, one with a multi-colored designer purse, one with the color of blond hair I wish I had, one with a cell phone making arrangements to pick up her child from preschool. Each different but all sharing the same secrets of being a woman that no man will ever have the joy of knowing. And, oh, I loved what I saw and thought to myself how much I love being a woman! The psalmist says in Psalm 139:13 “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.” How awesome it is that God created me as a woman and that I would so enjoy everything about the feminine world!
I love being a woman. I have loved being a girl ever since I knew I was a girl--I mean, not a boy. I grew up in a home with two sisters, one older and one younger. My mom, of course, was a girl and I had a boy dad. That is just the way things were...there were no same-sex parent families (that I knew of and still actually don't) and each parent had a well-defined role. Mom was the caregiver...she bathed us, fed us, clothed us, told us when to take a nap, when to get up for school, decided when we needed new shoes, bought the birthday presents. Mom took us to doctor when we were sick, to apologize to the neighbor for picking her flowers without permission, to Vacation Bible school, to the grocery store to buy our first feminine hygiene products. She soothed an upset tummy, a broken heart, and tension between father and daughter after driving lessons. She taught us how to be a friend, a mommy, and a cook.
Daddy had a much different role. He was the provider of all. He went to work, fixed the car, roto-rootered the drains, paid the bills, and planted the garden. He is the one who ate the leftovers, cleaned the gutters, tin-foiled the bunny ears, and always, always ate bread and butter with supper. He also taught me math and how to drive, you know, those non-mom tasks.
Although I have the deepest respect and love for both of my parents and the "things" they did for our family, I have never wanted to be male, the dad, the provider, the strong . I don't like plaid shirts, power tools, back-pocket wallets, driving the crappy car of the family, or getting the lawn chairs down from the top of the garage. I don't like opening the super-glue-stuck pickle jar or un-jamming the garbage disposer. I don't like deodorant soap, calf-high socks, or carrying my keys in my front pocket. I don’t like golf on TV, wing tips, or color choices narrowed to blue, black, and brown. And I don't like getting any bugs out of the house...which we all know, of course, is the man's job.
No, being female is so much more pleasant and gratifying. I love the colors and smells and choices of being female. I love having every choice of color and pattern in everything...shirts, shoes, furniture, checkbook covers. Floral, stripes, abstract, modern, traditional, bling, belted, scrunched, flouncy, casual. Pink, red, teal, green, and colors that sound like food like plumberry, bagel, cinnamon, pumpkin, lime (especially lime), and lasagna (just kidding!) I love perfumes and powders and lotions and candles and soft soap and bubble bath and body cream, mousse, butter, and balm. I love flip-flops, high heels, tennis shoes, flats, sandals, clogs, and boots. I love any kind of purse which also comes in any of the above combinations of patterns and colors...not to mention style--clutch, hobo, satchel, with or without a long strap, some with lights inside, some with zippers, magnet closings, flaps, and all with a cell phone place.
But more than the things I like about being female are, well, other kinds of things. I like the door opened for me and knowing that most men, no matter where you are, will always open a door for you as you enter a public place. I like the traditional American option of being the stay-at-home parent and that that is completely "normal." I love several conversations with lots women around a table all taking place at the same time and being able to keep an ear on all of them and being able jump in and out of any one of them and not lose a beat. I like that I am the one who gets to be pregnant and bring new life into this world. I like to cry when I need to and that that is OK. I like chick flicks, shopping all day, having morning coffee with a friend that lasts until after lunch, wearing a nightgown, getting flowers, writing thank you notes. I love being the one my child wants most in the world when they are sick or sad. I love the range of emotions that I have and knowing that my girlfriends have them too and we all "get it" when you are crushed your husband doesn't notice that the house is dirty when you need him to or your daughter didn't get invited to a birthday party.
Yes, I love being a woman. The colorful, multi-faceted, emotional, fragrant, life-giving thrill of being a woman!
Just Me: Here I Am
I have thought about writing for a long time. While I excelled in high school I wasn't that great in college the first time around and remember very clearly getting a poor grade on the first college paper I ever wrote. My dad was a good writer and so is my older sister. As I have aged, or rather matured, learned, grown, expanded in knowledge and experience life--however you want to put it--I find that the things that rattle inside my brain must, certainly and of course, be for others to hear...that is why I talk so much. You remember that commercial years back for a remote medical emergency response service that showed the old lady on the floor saying to the "voice" on the other end, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up." Yeah, well, that is me only it is, "Help, I started talking and I can't shut up!" My mom pointed out a t-shirt once with that saying and told me to buy it and wear it. Unfortunately (not) most t-shirts don't fit me and look terrible on me so, darn it, I could get it.
Anyway...I was having an IM conversation on Facebook the other day (I will save my thoughts on Facebook for another time) and she was, while we were IM-ing, looking at some pictures of her daughter who is currently teaching in another country. Her daughter has a blog about her adventures and she was saying I should blog too. Well--as much as I like to talk and write I still thought, "Who the heck wants to read what I have to say." I tucked it in the back of my mind, however, never thinking I would do it. It seems a tad bit egotistical to just put my words out there as if what I think or say or feel or experience is even remotely interesting to other people. At least when it is written it becomes the reader's choice. (A personal revelation just took place as I wrote that--if I speak I take away others' choice. Makes me want to be more careful what I say.)
So here is the first posting of my blog...well, while it will appear first, it is not the first thing I wrote for my blog. My first writing for my blog follows this entry. I can tell you as you read you will see me, just me. That is why I named my blog "Just Me." I'm not fancy or exotic, pretending or masking, or anything super, awesome, or magnificent. This blog will be just who I am, and if what I say has a positive affect on you in any way, then the this blog's first purpose for existing has been fulfilled. The second is so I can write with purpose. Let me say one more thing...just read my next posting before deciding if you will follow this blog. Welcome to "Just Me."
Anyway...I was having an IM conversation on Facebook the other day (I will save my thoughts on Facebook for another time) and she was, while we were IM-ing, looking at some pictures of her daughter who is currently teaching in another country. Her daughter has a blog about her adventures and she was saying I should blog too. Well--as much as I like to talk and write I still thought, "Who the heck wants to read what I have to say." I tucked it in the back of my mind, however, never thinking I would do it. It seems a tad bit egotistical to just put my words out there as if what I think or say or feel or experience is even remotely interesting to other people. At least when it is written it becomes the reader's choice. (A personal revelation just took place as I wrote that--if I speak I take away others' choice. Makes me want to be more careful what I say.)
So here is the first posting of my blog...well, while it will appear first, it is not the first thing I wrote for my blog. My first writing for my blog follows this entry. I can tell you as you read you will see me, just me. That is why I named my blog "Just Me." I'm not fancy or exotic, pretending or masking, or anything super, awesome, or magnificent. This blog will be just who I am, and if what I say has a positive affect on you in any way, then the this blog's first purpose for existing has been fulfilled. The second is so I can write with purpose. Let me say one more thing...just read my next posting before deciding if you will follow this blog. Welcome to "Just Me."
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