My Blog Style....

You know, every now and then I get a comment about not posting enough. When I first started this blog it was for various reasons (looking back now, perhaps all the wrong reasons). Someone who I thought was close to me, introduced me to the blog world and I dived in head first. That was a few years ago. When I started this blog I'm not even totally sure what my intention was other then to try something new and oh, so techy and edgy. But facts are, I'm neither of those.....

I have now come full circle and write this blog for me and no one else. There are only a couple of people in my everyday life who even know I have one. I don't make posts advertising peoples products, pictures in magazines, there is no randomness in this blog, it's all personal not just random words on a page to fill a daily quota. I guarantee no certain number of posts a day, I promise no topics. My posts are purely from my heart, put to words when it seems I can no longer hold it inside of me. I make no apologies.... I speak from my heart...

I've known many people in my life who have a wide range of interests, and are committed to none. Their attention span is limited, they easily become bored with the effort, lose the vision and move on to the next "new" thing to temporarily conquer. I am not one of those people. I am methodical, dedicated and committed, at my own speed. While I may not write often, I enjoy it and will not quit.

I do love receiving random comments and having continuous hits to my blog, and I hope they continue.............

Quote of the Day........

There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, "Yes, I've got dreams, of course I've got dreams." Then they put the box away and bring it out once in awhile to look in it, and yep, they're still there. Erma Bombeck

I Hate You......

I hate that I am using that word. I do not allow my children to use it, and yet it flows from my lips with such bitterness, it burns. I know the word hate carries so much negativity and conceptions of bigotry. But as I sit here at this midnight hour searching for a word to express what I am feeling, I am at a loss for any other word that best describes my feelings towards you....

I have run across many people in my past, as well as my present that I find there actions, their words, their beliefs, distasteful and at times nauseating. But most of them never consume my thoughts, my dreams as you. You, in your anonymity, in your little world, in the life you live outside my own, yet forever intertwined in mine.

I do not care what your excuse is. I do not care how your memory has distorted the truth as it was, or how you perceive it to be. I do not care about your age, or who you think is to blame.

In one breath, in one action, you conceived my little boy with your sperm and egg. And yet, less then six weeks later, you cracked his skull, bruised his body and forever altered his life. And here I sit, almost seven years later, tears spilling over, trying so hard to put back the pieces of this little soul you damaged. Hate, just doesn't seem to be enough...........

This week I will take my precious angel to the doctor again, they will scan his head, test is skills, draw his blood, and make him cry. He will look at me with those bright blue eyes. He will search my face as if to ask "why?" "Why, did I bring him there? Why am I allowing them to do these things to him? Why aren't I protecting him?" I hate you.......

I hate what you did to him. I hate that you could move on in your life, and he is frozen in time, in his skills, in his learning, in achieving his fullest potential.

And yet with your carelessness, your abuse, your neglect; I was blessed with a soul to care for, a soul to love, a soul to nurture.....

I will strive all my life to help him overcome the obstacles he will face. I will be his advocater, his voice, his support system. I will believe in his potential when everyone else has given up. I will teach him to be a better person then you are. I will teach him that anger can be conquered. He will not grow to be the poster child of his past. He will know love, he will learn patience, he will not repeat history. And like me, he will learn forgiveness.....

Damn, sometimes, words just aren't enough..

My Previous Life.....

By Gayle Sorensen Stringer

• 
  In my previous life, before I was reincarnated as a mother of three, I wore clothes that fit and matched. I wore makeup and curled my hair every day. I had my eyebrows waxed and my nails done. But no one gave me graham cracker kisses. No one ever told me how pretty I look in sweats.

• In my previous life, I read Time magazine and the newspaper. My repartee of regular television viewing transcended Arthur and The Magic School Bus, and I devoured all the bestselling novels. But no one asked me to read The Velveteen Rabbit at bedtime. No one ever requested The Little Engine that Could.

• In my previous life, I had a career and friends who were more than three feet tall. People asked for my opinions and entrusted me with important projects and confidential information. I had conversations where not once was mentioned snacks or potties or play dates. But no one asked me my favorite color or why the sky is so blue. No one ever wanted me to sing.

• In my previous life, I had a life. I frequented aerobics classes, restaurants and the theater. I hosted parties where the themes had nothing to do with Star Wars or Winnie-the-Pooh. I shopped for myself and slept late on weekends. But no one made me Valentine cards. No one ever gave me dandelion bouquets.

• In my previous life, I traveled, and my destinations did not hinge on theme parks or swimming pools or nap schedules. The Mayan ruins of the Yucatan, snorkeling in the Caribbean, museum hopping in Italy, Kabuki Theater in Japan . . these were my playgrounds. I was the queen of the road and my destiny. But no one asked me to push the swing higher. No one ever invited me to splash in puddles or roll in the snow.

• In my previous life, I held my emotions in check. I did not stomp my feet or grit my teeth. I could not easily be diminished to tears or tirades. I considered my demeanor as laid-back and easygoing. But, no one made me care enough to cry. No one ever just loved me, anyway.

• In my previous life, I was free. I could carve my own path and follow my dreams. Nothing stood in my way. But the path was unsure and the vision blurred. No one ever gave me purpose enough to soar. Now, I endlessly rearrange piles of laundry, crumbs and toys. I am pulled and tugged, hassled and harassed, stepped on and sat upon, and desperate for some solitude. I am jean-clad and juice-stained, bleary-eyed and graying, underpaid and overwhelmed. And, sometimes I wonder who I am and what I've become. Then, one of my children shouts, "Mommy, I need you!" and it is perfectly clear.

• I am the center of the Universe. I am MOM.

(I received this via e-mail, one of the many that actually touched my heart)

Oh, The Games People Play Now...........

Oh, the games people play now
Every night and everyday now
Never meanin' what they say now
Never sayin' what they mean....

Why they waol away the hours
In their ivory towers
To be covered up with flowers
In the back of a black limosene....

Oh, we made one another cry,
Break our hearts when we say goodbye
Cross our hearts and hope to die
"Cept the other one's to blame....

Neither one will ever feel it
So we gaze at an 8 by 10
Thinkin' 'bout things that might have been
OW, It's a dirty rotten shame....

Look around tell me what you see
What's happenin' to you and me
God grant me the serenity
To remember who I am............

Cause you're givin up your sanity
For your pride and your vanity
Turn your back on humanity
OW, When you don't give a damn....

Talking about you and me
And the games people play.....

Check .....

SOR-RY......

adjective, -ri·er, -ri·est.

1. feeling regret, compunction, sympathy, pity, etc.: to be sorry to leave one's friends; to be sorry for a remark; to be sorry for someone in trouble.
2. regrettable or deplorable; unfortunate; tragic: a sorry situation; to come to a sorry end.
3. sorrowful, grieved, or sad: Was she sorry when he broke her heart?
4. associated with sorrow; suggestive of grief or suffering; melancholy; dismal.
5. wretched, poor, useless, or pitiful: a sorry horse.
6. (used interjectionally as a conventional apology or expression of regret): Sorry, you're misinformed. Did I dump you? Sorry.
7. sorry, such a pitifull hollow word, often used to explain actions or lack there of, when honest words would be so much better, so much more compassionate prior to inflicting pain......

Goodbye Alice In Wonderland..............

Jewel - Goodbye Alice In Wonderland




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