dear william

GREAT son story. I've been preparing for a week for my first budget meeting as treasurer at church - printing off spreadsheets of history, etc. William is just amazing. At age ten, he came to me the day of the meeting asking how he could help. His last words to me on my way out the door were "good luck tonight mom", and his first words on returning were "how'd your meeting go?" Why does a ten year old care so much? And how do they LEARN to care? So many of his traits I see growing, I wonder where he gets them from.

He is such an amazing spirit. So caring. SO much a boy, but underneath, an incredibly caring and loving soul. I am so Blessed to be his mother....

Homecoming...

omy. Homecoming this weekend in our small town, and I sent my daughter off to the dance with a boy. And he was such a nice boy. Makes me happy to see my daughter making good choices. She did very well. We're teaching her well. Exciting to see her growing up - and becoming an amazing young lady.

the swing

it's amazing to me how manic i can be. how i can swing from the high of earlier today to this. in the last two hours i've had two things happen that slapped me in the face, and hurt me so bad that i don't want to belong here anymore.

i get very frustrated that things at work can so affect my happiness. and unfortunately i need the job. i can't do without. and yet it emotionally and mentally puts me over the edge. to the point of tears.

i have worked so hard these last 12 years and have gotten no recognition for it at all. but i've been slapped, stomped on, and denied instead. how i want to leave here.

Family

Ok, so last night was just one of those really great family nights. Goofy stuff, everyone laid back and enjoying. But my poor daughter got the brunt of it.

It is homecoming week in our little town, and each night they have been out tp'ing, carousing, and having good old fashioned small town fun. Last night she had an away volleyball game, far enough away that we couldn't get there in time to watch. So the three of us stayed home.

I, on the way home, came up with a brilliant idea to make her homecoming even more special... We (I should say I) tp'd her BEDROOM. Beautiful, and artistic, if I do say so myself. Draped from the ceiling fan, hanging in the closet... a true work of art.

Upon returning home, I was "sleeping" in my bedroom. She entered her room, immediately blaming dad. "Don't you look at me, I had nothing to do with it." After we all got a good laugh, we went to bed. (Or so I thought.)

Turns out she is definitely my daughter. I woke up to find my coffee pot and purse saran'd! She woke with a smile, "don't mess with me, mom". I'm so proud...........

aging parents

Had a rough lunch with dad today. He asked again about Mom, asked me to recount what happened before she died. He has no idea how hard that is for me. But he honestly just doesn't remember. It's not his fault. And I want to help as much as I can. He asked me to write it all down, so he can keep it at his spot, and read it when he forgets. I tried so hard not to cry. Did pretty well actually. You'd think after this long I would be able to talk about it. But it's still hard. After 16 months...

Dad still makes me smile. While waiting for Ken, I told Dad all about my weekend in Iron Belt. (I had already told him on Monday, but he forgot.) As soon as Ken arrived with lunch, he told dad he had been to Iron Belt on Saturday (not knowing I'd just told him), but Dad got all excited and asked questions - didn't remember a lick of the conversation we'd just had. I feel so bad for him, but love the fact that he doesn't let it get him down. He's frustrated, but not to the point that he's angry. We are so Blessed with that.

the beginning

i've wanted to blog for awhile now. i like to journal, but seems i've got more time at my pc than with pen in hand. i'm hoping that this will be a chance for me to increase my writing, something that is in my head as something i need to strengthen. don't know if anyone will ever read it. that's not why i write.

for me, writing is theraputic. it's my chance to think, to breathe, and to be creative. i'm a scrapbooker, and writing is a large part of that for me. there are so many things i want to write down, i don't know where to start.

so i'm starting here. with a blog. wierd. hopefully it becomes my new vehicle....