I’ve been writing on this blog for almost a year. I remember the day I received my first comment. “Will! Jenny! Someone actually commented on my blog! They liked my blog enough to comment. Someone read what I wrote! You guys! Isn’t that crazy/weird/awesome/scary/fantastic?”
And then I felt self-conscious. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to be self-conscious prior to receiving that first comment. But a comment does mean that someone actually read the blog, rather than some sort of spambot stopping by and doing whatever it is spambots do.
And then I received another comment.
These comments were from complete strangers. There were people out there, that I didn’t know, and they were reading and taking the time to send encouraging words back.
It felt great. Better than great. Continue reading →
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 
