2.20.2017

seen and heard

We battled a small sickness the week before Valentine's day. So of course I was proud that boxes were still made and Valentine's addressed and brought to school. I felt pretty on top of it considering. I sent the food for the class party (I now sign up for about 99% less of school activities to help out) and happily picked up the kids at the end of the day. I was now the one that was sick, so even more props for getting them there right?

Elementary School:
As my kindergartner walks up to me he states ever so matter of factly, "Yeah, I didn't have enough Valentines? And I didn't bring a bag. But it's ok, someone gave me an extra one!" and he pulls out a sparkly girl panda bag.

I try not to hyperventilate, "You didn't have a bag? You were supposed to bring a bag or box?" breathe, breathe breathe. (Thinking, I've finally reached "that mom" status that forgets everything! and he had a horrible holiday because of ME!)  I ask again, "Rodney? What happened? Were you ok?"  

He looks up at me and says, "Mom, it all worked out just fine!" and smiles as he shows me all of his loot. "Do you know what my favorite candy is ever?!" he asked.

"FUN DIPS!!!!!!" he screams and then skips to the car.


Middle School:

Our middle schooler had a class where they were required to write two Valentines, and only two. You had  to sign your name on the Valentine and all Valentines were going to be stapled onto the wall.

I asked Ty, "What kind of sick social experiment is this?!" These poor kids, you have to only pick two friends, and you have to sign your name. Resulting in the popular girl is going to get, like 10 Valentines, and then there are kids who are going to receive NONE, and everyone can read every single one?  

I have a great idea! Let's take time away from learning our subject (where our County has the lowest high school matriculation rate and college graduates in the country) and take time investigate the total awkwardness of prepubescent hormones, our small town's intimate social stratum and add public popularity competition to it and post it on the wall!

This is when I think home school moms might be onto something. But then, if it doesn't kill you it only makes you stronger right? Ick.



2.11.2017

hello, is it you?

Most of the time I plan to write on here, I start typing it all out yet can't push post. There is a mount everest of things over the last three years that have kept me from writing. From sharing. I'm a little older now and cautious about how much I write about the details about our lives. Some of my things are too personal. Some I'm not ready to share, although I know I need to. I know there are other moms out there wondering, is it just me? And feeling lost and desolate and alone and angry. And so, I'm going to pull up my britches and write. This is my first attempt. The older the children get the more private I feel, because it is their lives, and not my right anymore to share their intimate details and journey through childhood, and now adolescence.

 So maybe the tone of my writing will be a little different, (maybe I'll edit? ha! lolzzzzz!) not so much a journal of our day to day, but a deeper journal of my motherhood, my frank journal as an adult. Funny tidbits, honest reflections (even if it is things in my small town and people will know what I'm referring too) and the struggles of an everyday Christian woman balancing a house full of children, a dedicated marriage, a part-time job, a very busy part-time volunteer job at church and a plethora of other commitments.

All important facets of my life, and all if not balanced, can make you go crazy. I know this, because I went crazy and I'm slowly getting better. Or maybe I'm not, either or, I'm willing to talk about my adventures in wonderland. Who I am, who I was, who I think I am, who I think I was, and how my world has changed inside and around me.

I write for the one. The one woman, the one mom, the one struggling parent. When I am brave, and dare greatly to write my truths, my struggles, there is always the one. The one email, or someone who stops me at the store, or corners me at church, or even just sighs a compete relief at her phone screen when she realizes she isn't alone, she isn't crazy (or she is and is brave enough to reach out for help), and that post helps her to not give up. To take the rose colored glasses off of her problems and issues that are just NOT working anymore, even if it's messy and it's going to get worse before it gets better. Because honey, it always gets worse before it gets better, and then it just rinses and repeats.

I also am not as naive, I know that there even what I write today will be outdated in my life in 5, 10, 25 years. But that is not a reason anymore for me to not to share. This is my reality now, these are my truths now, and that is still important.

 I've found (meaning, I've worked my tail off to find) some ways to smile and stay freaking CHEERFUL during those derails, sidetracks, pauses and reroutes now. Life is too amazing and too short to stick your head in the sand and pout when it isn't going your way or look the way you want. I'm willing to write about it for that one. All that glitters is not gold sister, sometimes it's a pile of horse poo but no one is willing to talk about the stink (or the clean up or the difficult lessons learned). I will try do do this, without exposing myself and my family to too much exposure. Because that's a steaming hot pile of crap too.


Also, the blog name changed to www.prettycheerful.com, just because I'm not feeling as witty as I did in my 20's, and I only try to look pretty on the Sabbath. Haha! The one day I blow dry my hair and add an extra layer of mascara. Also, I'm able to be cheerful with the help of over the counter neurotransmitters, because turns out my brain stopped making a lot of them, a LONG time ago. You can ask my psychiatrist and therapist about this if you don't believe me.


So if you are here dear reader, or if this is my great grandchild that has been following along every topsy turvy, incoherent post over the last 8 years, until next time...because I am here, and it's me. It very truly is.
San Diego Padres game 2016, baseball is a happy place for us
                         
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