To my Blogary I write

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Dear Blogary,

I am in a funk. I’m not sure how it happened. Perhaps life has been moving too quickly, lately. Perhaps I’ve not invested enough time in sleep. Perhaps I’ve invested too much time in sleep. Unsure of the reasons why, I find myself in a funk. And Blogary, what follows may cost me some subscribers.

I was one of the millions who tuned in to the Royal Wedding today. I enjoyed shutting out the craziness of our current crises and losing myself in the magical enchantment of a Prince marrying a soon to be Princess. I remember when this Prince was a baby. He’s grown, and I believe his mother would be proud. I hope this marriage survives the scrutiny that will surround it. I hope Prince William inherited his mother’s resilience. I believe Kate shares Lady Diana’s better qualities. Continue reading

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My boy Charlie (Or, is it me?)

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I remember when my boys were infants. Whenever I heard my infant boys crying, my heart would break. When they first showed separation anxiety, their emotion tugged at my heart strings. The years have passed, and the boys are older. Now, when I hear my boys cry, I want a drink. (I’m kidding.) Continue reading

Help Yourself

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How many self-help books do you own? Need a minute to go count the collection you’ve created over the years? Or, have you passed your books along to others?

Lately, I seem drawn to book after book, promising me a better life. Please, don’t misunderstand me, I love my life. Still, with so many books within reach touting a better life – well, color me interested.

I think I am still coming off the “Eat, Pray, Love” thing. I never read the book. (Why does admitting to not having read the book take me back to my high school days and Cliff Notes?) I did – you knew this was coming – see the movie. And, though the movie wasn’t great, I find myself thinking about the messages portrayed in the movie. I have been accessing my library’s website daily, to see if a copy of the book is available. Hang on, I’ll check now . . . ARGH! Still unavailable.

Self-help books are destroying me. My over-analytical ways are only encouraged by the countless books out there claiming to help me. Who says I need help, anyway? Hush. I heard that.

“I’ll have to try that.” I hear myself say that statement time and time again, during conversations with friends and family. We are always offering our advice about this or that; assuming how we were helped will fit nicely and neatly in another person’s life. Though really, we’re all different.

Though written words and another person’s experience may inspire, I find more insight and inspiration by doing the most simple tasks. For example, when I am making and packing my son’s lunch for school, I find a peace making his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Sometimes, I get lost in the spreading of jelly across the peanut butter, attempting to cover the peanut butter perfectly, while creating an artful spread of jelly.

I find self-help in the calming (and yummy) scent of freshly made cinnamon toast. I find self-help in looking out my living room window and catching a glimpse of a deer running through the yard. I find self-help in sitting down with Joe, mesmerized while he reads to me from the books he brings home from school. To me, self-help is easily attainable when you grab hold of the good moments in life. And, when the bad moments hit, well – perhaps that is when the books are helpful. The books give us something to read through, escaping our momentary feeling of madness, until the dust settles and we see the good again. Perhaps we’re not looking for answers in the book, as much as we are looking for a diversion.

I’m not in a state of madness at the moment. Although, if you know me, you know this could change at any second. Still, as I continue to wait for a copy of “Eat, Pray, Love”, I find myself becoming obsessed with the countless self-help books being released daily. With so much help available, I may need to find a self-help book on how to learn to need more help. And, to make non-significant matters worse, next week begins the last season of Oprah. ACK! Oprah’s last season!

I wonder how many books will be released helping folks deal with Oprah’s final show: “Oprah: How to Live After the Show Ends”. Hmm . . .  Anyway, I’ll continue to check the status of “Eat, Pray, Love’ at my the library; and, in the meantime, I’m willing to bet I could find a self-help book to help me deal with my obsession of self-help books.

Rub a dub dub

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Dear Blogary,

Last night was bath night. And, I have come to the realization that I will deem it ‘bath night’ during certain family dinners.

Take last night for example, as the boys became increasingly whiny and cranky, I exclaimed, “Tonight is bath night!” And, once they were informed of the upcoming bath, I noticed the whining and crankiness diminished. Slightly.

More importantly, Blogary, my declaration sent a clear message to my husband, reinforced with a stern glare – um, I mean a loving glance: I have reached the brink, and I need reinforcements.

Blogary, I have also come to the realization that the boys are the cleanest during certain times of the month. Hmm. Interesting.

Love
Me

Here I Moan Again

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Dear Mother Nature,

You’re going to visit again soon, I can feel it. Moreover, my husband and kids are starting to feel it. Seems the wind has changed direction and grown gusty. And, unlike the wind that carries Mary Poppins, this wind is coming from the west. In fact, Admiral Boom has raised the storm signals, indicating heavy weather brewing.

Emotional about Joe ‘graduating’ from Suzann’s house and Charlie’s 4th birthday, this week is already a heap of haphazard hormones. And now, because you are coming for a visit, bloating, crabbiness and cravings of crap have started to encroach. Mother Nature, you are the perfect storm.

The Publix tagline, “Where shopping is a pleasure” is grating on my nerves more than ever this week. And, I saw a commercial for pads where the pad is compared to athletic wear.  ATHLETIC WEAR! To quote the commercial, “Only Stayfree Ultra-Thins have Thermo Control Designed with the comfort of athletic fabrics in mind. Stayfree Thermo Control quickly wicks moisture away, for exceptional dryness.”

Mother Nature, did you notice I provided a hyper-link to Stayfree’s product line in the previous paragraph? That link will allow you to see the stupid ad for yourself.

Ah yes, the week before the week you knock on my door, a time when friends are made and relationships improve. NOT!

And Mother Nature, don’t go trying to tell me about those women who no longer have you knocking on their door. I am in no mood to hear about how it could be worse or how other womanly hormonal experiences may be more annoying. You just hold off on that discussion for two weeks or so. Don’t look at me funny, either. I may just burst into tears.

Love,
Me

P.S. I should mention, one benefit to your visit, Mother Nature, is the fact that frustration hits quickly and can lead to instant results. I just loaded up two boxes of stuff to take to Goodwill, because I was tired of looking at all of it. I haven’t a clue what I threw in the boxes, out of frustration; hopefully, I won’t go looking for any of it in the next two weeks. Hmm . . . where’s my laptop? Uh-oh.