He stole my heart at only fifteen
Before then I only dated boys who were mean
I soon learned what it was to be swept off your feet
Two fools more in love you would never meet
But we grew up and nearly parted ways
Love can be tough, so proved those days
We hung in there with faith and our love grew
Took root even deeper and followed through
A family was next, from two hearts to three – to four?!
We found out there were two, and he almost hit the floor
Our life now a circus, we rarely get to stop
Sometimes it’s all perfect; sometimes we’re a flop
But even on bad days, we know where we stand
Beside each other, hand in hand
He’s good to me in ways that could make only a mother’s heart sing
Laundry and sleep-in Saturdays-- to heck with a fancy ring!
And for Valentine’s Day I am truly blessed
A gift of sprinkled donut holes—he surely does know me best!
I love you, Silly Silly Suntan Man!
A haphazard and inconsistent collection of melodramatic musings and quasi-intelligent insights we've gained in the chaos that is life... how's that for quirky and humble?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Where's Truh?
I will cut to the chase.
Ben has a friend who may or may not be imaginary. His name is Truh (like "truck" without the "-ck" or "Duh" with a "t"). I'm pretty sure he came up with this name completely on the fly when someone called him out on who this "friend" was that he was constantly referring to all the time... and I only wish I was exaggerating by using the term "constantly."
Before I delve further into this subject, I have to say this: I can understand why kids who have no one else to play with would invent a friend. I don't hold it against them or think they're strange or whatever. But a child with a TWIN SIBLING? Their very own personal built-in playmate for life? Is this not enough?
Apparently not.
First, the facts. So far with random questioning we've learned the following about Truh.
- He's really tall.
- He's USUALLY at Grant's house (Grant is a super-cool cousin). However, a visit to Grant's house conveniently revealed no Truh.
- He's nine years old.
- He's really good at lots of sports and games.
- He has blue hair and black eyes.
- He has no parents.
- He lives in a factory in the big city.
As you let these facts sink in, consider also that all of this information was relayed by Ben with no hesitation or reluctance whatsoever, but instead with the absolute confidence and self-assuredness of a self-possessed pathological liar... okay, okay, maybe he just has an overactive imagination.
Whatever the case may be, I'm stuck between thinking this is an imaginary friend and thinking that perhaps he's just made this friend up to enhance his own coolness... "MY friends do this..." "MY friends do that... " Unfortunately, this talk isn't restricted to our house. Preschool, church, the YMCA and who knows who else are subjected to this talk... And it's all said in that snot-nosed-kid-next-door-who-brags-nonstop-about-how-cool-he-is tone.... I'm starting to think it's related to... vanity? At age three?
But I have to consider also that both boys have agreed on another character out there. Cank the Trashman, aka Cank the Junkman. It's been determined that Cank doesn's necessarily come to pick up the trash but he DOES reside in the trash truck. He's also "not very nice." We've also heard muttering about someone named "Dew" who also lives in the big city.
So....a figment of the imagination? A scam to make everyone think they're really cool and popular? Or simply a world of their own that we just happen to be living in?
You be the judge.
Ben has a friend who may or may not be imaginary. His name is Truh (like "truck" without the "-ck" or "Duh" with a "t"). I'm pretty sure he came up with this name completely on the fly when someone called him out on who this "friend" was that he was constantly referring to all the time... and I only wish I was exaggerating by using the term "constantly."
Before I delve further into this subject, I have to say this: I can understand why kids who have no one else to play with would invent a friend. I don't hold it against them or think they're strange or whatever. But a child with a TWIN SIBLING? Their very own personal built-in playmate for life? Is this not enough?
Apparently not.
First, the facts. So far with random questioning we've learned the following about Truh.
- He's really tall.
- He's USUALLY at Grant's house (Grant is a super-cool cousin). However, a visit to Grant's house conveniently revealed no Truh.
- He's nine years old.
- He's really good at lots of sports and games.
- He has blue hair and black eyes.
- He has no parents.
- He lives in a factory in the big city.
As you let these facts sink in, consider also that all of this information was relayed by Ben with no hesitation or reluctance whatsoever, but instead with the absolute confidence and self-assuredness of a self-possessed pathological liar... okay, okay, maybe he just has an overactive imagination.
Whatever the case may be, I'm stuck between thinking this is an imaginary friend and thinking that perhaps he's just made this friend up to enhance his own coolness... "MY friends do this..." "MY friends do that... " Unfortunately, this talk isn't restricted to our house. Preschool, church, the YMCA and who knows who else are subjected to this talk... And it's all said in that snot-nosed-kid-next-door-who-brags-nonstop-about-how-cool-he-is tone.... I'm starting to think it's related to... vanity? At age three?
But I have to consider also that both boys have agreed on another character out there. Cank the Trashman, aka Cank the Junkman. It's been determined that Cank doesn's necessarily come to pick up the trash but he DOES reside in the trash truck. He's also "not very nice." We've also heard muttering about someone named "Dew" who also lives in the big city.
So....a figment of the imagination? A scam to make everyone think they're really cool and popular? Or simply a world of their own that we just happen to be living in?
You be the judge.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I know, I know
Yikes... it's been OVER a month since I've posted a blog. And I haven't even been posting with regular consistency since well before Christmas.
What's my deal? I've been asking myself the same thing. The same sorts of things happen to me as they always do. My days are full of irony. I'm humiliated on a daily basis. My kids are still hilarious. My life is still... my life.
And yet I feel even more drained lately and unable/unwilling to take the effort to post here. All I can figure is that my creative juices are being even more used in my job, and there's nothing left at the end of the day. Or sometimes even at the beginning. The other night I had an absolutely perfect opportunity to do this... . and then I got sucked into the Discovery Health Channel, where they were running a feature on one woman who was 76 years old with a calcified baby in her womb, and another woman who was pregnant with twins AND a third baby growing in her abdominal cavity... I mean, how was I supposed to turn THAT off?
But I digress.
The longer this dry spell does, the harder it gets for me to sit down and just spit out a blog.
This is all just another example of my life cramping my style.
But I've never been one to be submissive to the rat race. Whether it's part of my nature or I learned it in my angst-drenched teen years, I hate the feeling of Rules backing me into a corner. Rage against the machine and all that.
So life, watch out. I'm writing a new blog today. Not because I have the time, but because I'm making the time.
Besides, with quotes like these that literally came from my childrens' mouths just in one day, how can I continue to keep my life from you all?
"Hey! I peed on my face!"
and
"Mommy, are those wipes getting dried out? They hurt my bottom when you wipe. Are you using toilet paper instead?"
and
"God made us to be funny kids, didn't he?"
See?
What's my deal? I've been asking myself the same thing. The same sorts of things happen to me as they always do. My days are full of irony. I'm humiliated on a daily basis. My kids are still hilarious. My life is still... my life.
And yet I feel even more drained lately and unable/unwilling to take the effort to post here. All I can figure is that my creative juices are being even more used in my job, and there's nothing left at the end of the day. Or sometimes even at the beginning. The other night I had an absolutely perfect opportunity to do this... . and then I got sucked into the Discovery Health Channel, where they were running a feature on one woman who was 76 years old with a calcified baby in her womb, and another woman who was pregnant with twins AND a third baby growing in her abdominal cavity... I mean, how was I supposed to turn THAT off?
But I digress.
The longer this dry spell does, the harder it gets for me to sit down and just spit out a blog.
This is all just another example of my life cramping my style.
But I've never been one to be submissive to the rat race. Whether it's part of my nature or I learned it in my angst-drenched teen years, I hate the feeling of Rules backing me into a corner. Rage against the machine and all that.
So life, watch out. I'm writing a new blog today. Not because I have the time, but because I'm making the time.
Besides, with quotes like these that literally came from my childrens' mouths just in one day, how can I continue to keep my life from you all?
"Hey! I peed on my face!"
and
"Mommy, are those wipes getting dried out? They hurt my bottom when you wipe. Are you using toilet paper instead?"
and
"God made us to be funny kids, didn't he?"
See?
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