Have you ever had stuff in storage? Do you pay monthly rent on a storage unit? Do you stuff boxes in an attic or on a garage shelf only to forget what is in the box, and then have to dig through to reacquaint yourself with your own belongings?
On June 23rd I put most of my life in storage. That’s an analogy. I didn’t really box everything up, label the boxes with a Sharpie, stuff the boxes on the highest shelf and turn the key on a lock that would keep ‘my stuff’ safe.
I had recently switched how my little house gained access to the internet, tried to limit how much we watched TV, and ditched the landline. I was attempting to save us some money, while still allowing us access to the things we love and can learn from, without the possibility of turning little impressionable minds into jello with all the stuff we’d been watching on TV.
On June 23rd, we were ten days into our new internet plan, and we’d surpassed our allotted budget of internet usage by $100. Yep. I didn’t do a real great job on my homework. This new plan didn’t account for how much we use the internet for learning, video streaming, Googling interesting videos on the best dogs for kids, how to design fashions for Barbie, or even watching The Jetsons.
It was a bozo move on my part. Continue reading →
They met on the playground. He liked her shiny brown hair and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She liked how smart he was and how he made her laugh. The more they played together, the more they learned how similar they were. They liked to sit in the sun and read good books. They liked to walk through the forest holding hands. They liked to sit under a tree and eat strawberries and crackers spread with peanut butter.
I sat in the lobby of the old hospital building when my kids were in their last counseling session. The session was over two hours long. I sat and waited. I should have gotten groceries. I should have run to the bank. I could have done a lot of things. Will was concerned that Mark might take them ‘somewhere’ after the session. To offer Will some comfort, I promised that I’d be sitting there when the kids got out of the session.
I thought about posting the most damning quotes from the emails received from Mark in the last few days. I thought I might even write about how Mark is telling Will that while every boy needs a mom, they don’t need a mom who poisons them with the hate they feel for that boy’s dad. I thought I’d even post entire copies of those emails. (Trust me. They far exceed the 1000 word limit that a lot of bloggers prefer.) I thought of posting his criticisms and defending myself. His writings further prove his disorder, so it certainly would be more fodder for this blog.
This photo reminds me of all the fun that was had around our house this week. Those drops of water are getting ready to slide down the tulip leaf. You can almost hear the drops saying, “Wheeeee!”
I do follow the rules in unfamiliar situations. I read the signs, ask for directions, follow the guidelines and survey the expert opinions. But once I’m in my comfort zone, I start to look at things differently. I start to ask, “Why?” I’m not trying to be belligerent. I’m trying to understand if the reason something “has always been done that way” is really the right reason for doing it that way.
I’m lousy at identifying trees. My neighbor has a ginormous – Maple? Green Ash? – tree in his front yard that creates the loveliest umbrella over our driveway. On a hot summer day (please let us have a few this year) there isn’t a better place to stand than on the shady cool cement of the driveway, with a dripping popsicle, under the dense lacy shade of that tree.
I did it. Saturday night I 
