homekeeping 3

jennys-bouquetA long time ago, I realized I couldn’t really boss my kids around.  Oh sure, I could, but I’d be annihilating their spirits in the process.  I’m not that kind of mom.  There are probably a lot of parents that do a great job being the boss all the time (I doubt it), and it’s good for the three of us to remember that I am the boss.  But, there is a lot of truth in being selective about which battles to pick.

THAT is why I love this blog.

I can boss it around.  I can ignore it.  I can feed it or not.  I can tell it how to look, and what to wear and what to say.  And I can tell it when to shut up.  I can tell it when it’s getting too big for it’s britches.  I can comfort it when it needs to be comforted.  And I can ignore it when it gets whiny.

Ultimately, I am the boss of where this blog goes.  Cool.  Scary.  Fun.

So far my battles have been with the tech aspects… css, downloading files (where do they go?), and all the behind the scenes stuff.  Perhaps I could/should have been more selective in what I’ve written, but then blogs are like TVs.  The reader holds the remote.  (Is that the faint sound of clicking I hear?  The sound of someone moving on to another site?)

I read a lot by the blogging experts.  There is a vast amount of fantastic information out there.  There are ideas on how to monetize your blog, attract more followers, bond with your audience, choose your focus, merge the soul with the money making…

In the end, I read all that good stuff, mine for pearls, and stay my course.

And this is my course.  For right now.


I see this blog (child) as a collection of stories and tools.  So, far, there have been a lot more stories than tools.  I have always learned lessons better if I hear them in a story.  I don’t want to be preached to.  I don’t want to have to memorize something.  Don’t bore me with statistics.  Give me examples and narratives of how people approach their journeys.  I want to know what they trip on.  I want to know where their path veers to the right.  I want to see where their not taking a detour has led them astray.  I want to know how they correct their course.

Tell me your story.

I also want to know what helps them along the way.  Do they scream and yell when they get lost?  Do they hide in bed with the covers over their heads?  Do they call their friends, serve wine and triple-veined blue cheese with Armenian cracker bread, and cry and stay up too late?  Or do they pack up the car, put new cat litter in the cat box, and check out for a week?

We all have a story to tell.  Some of us use paints or flowers or woodcraft or engineering or numbers or words.  For me, it’s all about the stories – the telling and the listening.

Tell me about the tools you use.


I am working on some organizational things.  boring….

I have a goal in mind.  (My friends and family are laughing at this point.  Those who read have just scratched their heads and said to themselves, “She has a goal?  Who knew?”)

I am creating categories to better navigate this site.

If you come for stories, you won’t have to weed through everything to find the pearly stories.

If you come for tools, I will send you on that detour.

In the meantime, I’ve added a little color.  This kid was dressing kind of drab.  She needed a little bling.  Whoa…..   Not too much.  I can’t do too much bling.


On that note, it seems my real children need me.  Actually they aren’t my children.  I’ve always had this belief (wish I could remember where I discovered it) that our children actually choose us to be their parents.

And I chose this blog.

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One comment

  1. Your comment about children choosing their parents reminds me of a Bill Cosby story we heard last weekend. He said when his daughters were teenagers they’d occasionally challenge him with: “I didn’t ask to be born, you know!” He says he’s only recently learned how to respond to that – too late for his daughters, but a gem for the rest of us.

    His response:

    Yes. You did. Approximately 9 months …. (Long Cosby Pause) …. before you were born… (LCP) … I released …. (LCP) …. about a million and a half …. (LCP) …. sperm. And YOU …. (LCP) …. were one of them!

    His story goes on to tell her how she, along with the other million and a half, swam like the dickens. How they raced to reach the prize. How some died along the way. How she mercilessly beat back her competitors with a stick. How, at the end of the course, she triumphantly reached the egg. She pounded on the door frantically, and was allowed in. And then she quickly turned around and slammed the door on all the others.

    Now don’t …. ever …. tell me …. you didn’t ask to be born!

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