Running with Scissors

Be advised, I am going to whine. Well, I am going to try to whine. Things are a bit crazy in the house right now. The dogs found the cat’s litter box, the kids are running around with scissors, and my husband is beckoning me to the bedroom. Well, we don’t have a cat, so the litter box part isn’t true. And, the scissors have the rounded tip; sure, the scissors are rusty – but rounded, nonetheless.

“Joe, it would be best if you ran with the scissors closed.”

If you are looking for a well organized post with a point at the end, move along to another post, please. If you are looking for humor, well – please continue reading. I will certainly try to accommodate you. (While also trying to accommodate my family.)

“Hang on, Honey! I’ll be there in a minute! Promise. Yep, love you, too!”

Amidst this crazy house, I am looking for a moment of quiet. Last Friday I noted that blogging helps keep me sane; alas, I haven’t had a chance to collect my random thoughts since last Friday. I have been unable to find a moment of silence between the busy household and the many voices in my head. Even as the sun sets and I snuggle in for the night, the voices continue, making my early bedtime not so early.

“Charlie, pick the scissors or the screwdriver. Don’t run with both, please.”

Mmmm . . . Dutch Monkey Doughnuts

Today, as I drove to my boss’ house, I found myself dosing. Though my morning coffee revs my engines for a bit, I find I begin to drag again by 9am. My husband says I need to start exercising again. I know he is right, but I’m tired. And, since I am tired, I decide pull into Dutch Monkey Doughnuts for some – well, doughnuts – and coffee. I am sure my boss will love having a treat when I arrive. Besides, why get your blood flowing with exercise, when you can use sugar and caffeine?

“Honest, Dear. I’ll be there in a minute. Watch the video one more time.”

And, really, exercise? I can think of countless other things that need my attention more than exercise. Trouble is, I find as I contemplate everything that needs my attention, I want to hunker down and lose myself in a mindless television show. As my every growing butt sits comfortably on the slowly sagging couch, I wonder, “How do you spell lazy?” L E N O R E.

“Cool, Boys! That scissor sword fight looks like fun!”
“Wow – you missed Charlie’s eye by a hair.”
“Skillful dodging there, Charlie.”

Well, I suppose I had better tend to my husband’s beckoning. Plus, based on the red marks I see on the boys’ arms, I may need to pull out some band aids. The good news, the boys will be in bed soon, and my husband? Yeah, he’ll be asleep in 13 minutes. Looks like I’ll get some quiet time after all. I think I’ll have a doughnut.

Friday! Glad you’re here.

.:: Drama
“Be careful what you wish for” is something I have heard time and time again. Yet, regardless of the number of times I hear it, I continue to wish for some things and then get smacked in the face when it happens.

Drama. Drama makes for a good blog week. Drama makes for good postings. People don’t want to read boring. So, yes, I find I wish for exciting weeks – not necessarily drama-filled weeks.

Well, color me smacked. Drama payed a visit this week. Big time. This week, Charlie lost his sandals! Dun dun duuuuunn!!

What? Were you expecting a cat fight of some sort? Hmm. Anyway, while getting ready for day care, Charlie started looking for his shoes; specifically, he was looking for his sandals. “Mommy!” He yelled. “Where are my sandals?”

Now, I love Charlie with all my heart, but this kid loses everything. He is a hoarder and tosser all at the same time. Wanting to sleep with whatever he collected during the day, while simultaneously losing his prized collection from yesterday. “Where is my ruby red?” He asks. What is a ‘ruby red’? It’s a small red reflector, which he picked up off the ground at Suzann’s house. He has slept with it for the past week, except during the nights when he misplaced it moments before bedtime. I digress.

Back to the sandals. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” I said. “When you don’t put your things back where they belong, things get lost. You’ll have to wear another pair of shoes today.”

Charlie’s smile turned to a frown and he began to whimper. Fortunately, he had his ‘ruby red’, so the frown and whimper were short lived. Still, every morning Charlie asked me, “Where are my sandals?” And today, as I took the dirty clothes out of the kids’ laundry basket, I found Charlie’s sandals. Yes, the laundry basket. And, no, I don’t get it either. Ah drama. Thanks for visiting.

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A bed filled with a boy’s treats.
All protected between his sheets.

Hey, look what I found, an old box.
I’ll sleep with it and my favorite socks.

Can I sleep with the picture I drew?
What about my paint brush, too?

Oh, I like these rocks I found.
Now under my pillow, safe and sound.

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.:: A Blank Canvas
White towels. I’ve noticed white towels are popular in many homes. I’ve also noticed how white towel brighten up just about any and every bathroom. This past summer, I bought white towels to use for the boys after swimming. And once, while washing the white towels, I accidentally included a blue blanket. Okay, okay. I knew I was putting the blue blanket in with the white towels, but the blanket was old – I never dreamed it would still ‘bleed’.

The blanket bled. My white towels were now a bluish white towel. I looked at the towels. I thought, “I wonder what color I’d get if I added a pair of black jeans.” And with that, I started washing my white towels with various colors.

Behold the freedom and fun of having white towels. Sure, you could do your best to keep the towels the whitest and brightest; or, you could wash the white towels with an old blue blanket that still bleeds with every wash. You could wash your white towels as it says on the label, with whites only; or, you could throw in a new red shirt, creating a soft pink colored towel. You could add bleach to your recently colored white towels and bring back the original white color; or you could add a yellow shirt, a black shirt, a red shirt and a blue shirt and create  – well, I don’t have a name for that color creation.

White towels: blank canvases waiting to be colored. Go color!

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Laundry is an art.
Mixing different colors.
Wash in a rainbow.

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.:: Why
Folks ask me all the time, “Lenore,” they begin. “Why do you blog?”

Okay. So, folks don’t ask me that question all the time. In fact, I doubt anyone has asked me. But, this morning, I find I am asking myself, “Why do I blog?” This week has been an interesting week, which began with an ah-ha moment on Sunday, and ended with complete peace and satisfaction. And today, I know, without any doubts, why I blog.

I blog for my family. I blog, because blogging keeps me happy. I blog, because when I am happy I am better able to provide for my family. I blog, because blogging helps keep me sane. I blog, because blogging helps me keep things in perspective. I blog, so I can get thoughts out of my head and off my mind. I blog to vent. I blog to forget. I blog to remember. I blog to show my love and support for my friends, while giving me a chance to appreciate all that surrounds me. I blog to make others laugh. I blog to make others smile. I blog to make others think.

I blog, because I love to write. I blog, because I love to share. I blog, because I want to promote the fund-raising efforts of my friends and family. I blog to promote Angela’s efforts with Team In Training, benefiting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I blog to promote my friend Elise’s animal rescue organization, Pick of the Litter. I blog to promote Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, and other charitable organizations. I blog, because I want to help those around me. I blog, because I care.

And finally, as I have probably said in previous posts, I blog so others can breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Wow. At least I am not as crazy as she is. My life is pretty good!” You’re welcome.

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Blogging is something I love to do.
Writing helps me see things through.

I’m not perfect, and don’t claim to be.
I’m just working on being me.

Sometimes I think I’m funny, too.

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Be sure to take care of yourself and others.

Complete in all respects, but not perfect

“I messed up again!” Joe whined, as he brushed his piece of paper onto the floor and tossed his crayon. “I can’t draw a tree.”

I picked the piece of paper off the floor and looked at Joe’s rendition. “What’s wrong with this?” I asked him.

“There is more green on one side of the tree than the other.” He said sadly.

My favorite evergreen tree. Perfection in my eyes.“Joe,” I said, “Look outside. See all our trees in the backyard? None of those trees are perfect. Each tree has crooked limbs and missing leaves.”

I got up and walked towards a front window. “Come here, Joe. I want to show you something.”

Joe got up and followed me to the window in our living room. “See this tree?” I asked, while pointing to an evergreen growing next to our house. “See how this tree has branches on one side of it but not the other side?”

I stood there as Joe looked out the window, examining the tree. I could tell he he was getting my message. He walked back to his drawing and finished his apple tree. Pleased with his work, he took the picture to church to give to his friend Sam.

Last week, Rob and I had our first parent/teacher conference with Joe’s Kindergarten teacher. One comment she shared with us pertained to Joe wanting to always be right. She asks Joe to spell words phonically (phonetically?), but Joe balks – wanting to make sure he spells the word correctly.

Though Joe does not strive to be perfect or error- free all of the time, it is clear he does not like making mistakes. Does anyone like making mistakes?

When I made a comment to Joe regarding his picture, I used the word perfect. But, what is perfect? Really. And, is perfection attainable? According to Webster’s New World Dictionary, perfect is “complete in all respects; flawless; excellent as in skill or quality; completely accurate.” If a tree is drawn completely in all respects, does this mean the tree is then perfect? Is it possible for something to be complete in all respects but not completely accurate? The definition of perfect is contradictory to the point that perfection is both easy to attain and impossible to attain.

Wanting to be right and wanting to be perfect are two very different things, yet I believe we use them interchangeably. Joe’s personal take on his drawing was that the tree was not right; it was different. Yet, I took the liberty to use the word ‘perfect’ vs. being right or wrong. When the reality is sometimes different is simply ‘not the same’. And, just as we strive to be perfect or right, many of us also do whatever it is we can to make ourselves stand out from the crowd. We try to be different.

Am I making any sense? I want Joe to strive to be right when it matters. And, being right is important in matters like math and science. But, I don’t want Joe to worry about always being right. I don’t want Joe to worry about always being perfect. And, for the most part, society is reflecting their own personal opinion when the terms right and perfect are used.

Joe's perfect Apple tree.

Generally speaking, we ask ourselves questions like: ‘Does my house look perfect?’ ‘Is my outfit right?’ ‘Is my hair perfect?’ and, ‘Does my family look right?’ And, generally speaking, we get it wrong every time. Just as beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, being right and being perfect is in the eyes of the beholder, too. Joe’s drawing of an apple tree looked right to me. And, in a world of ‘wee-honked’ trees, his drawing was a perfect addition to the mix.

I’ve just made a mountain out of a mole hill, eh? You may be thinking I’ve over-thunk being perfect, being right, being wrong and being different. Yes, well, you may be right. But hey, I’m not perfect.