Words

Words are just sound.

They hold significance because we assigned significance to them. The problem with words is people. One person assigns significance to certain words while someone else does not. Another problem with people is intention and interpretation. While one person said something with a certain intention, the recipient interpreted those words differently and assigned malicious intent to them. Here lies the problem. The intent of these words is assigned by the person saying them, not the person hearing them. The person hearing them can only interpret the words. When the hearer assigns intent and not the intent assigned by the speaker, there becomes a problem.

Conflict.

Can conflict be resolved in written words? Not well, as I've experienced. Once the hearer assigns malicious intent to the words I've chosen to use, all the hearer will interpret from me is malicious intent.Best to resolve conflict where facial expressions and inflect can be seen and heard. When words are more than words, but develop a heart and become the soul of what you're trying to express. Words are born. We breathe life into them.

Words become understanding becomes life becomes love.

Why?

I don't know.

A Wife... again

I'm a wife again.

There, I said it.

Whew

I've been writing and deleting this post over and over again trying to find the right words to convey the absolute awesomeness of it all, but the words were getting to be too many and the descriptions too long and I finally realized there aren't enough words in the world to describe the state of happiness I'm in.

Everybody saw awwwww!

It's surreal being married again. I never thought it would happen. When I was first separated and then divorced from my ex husband, I thought "this was it. I'll never find someone again." The idea of dating was daunting. What if I met someone and fell in love and he turned out to be an alcoholic or drug user or wife beater? I admit, I was pretty lucky marrying my high school sweetheart. He was none of those things that I feared. He was a stand up guy, until he wasn't. Plus, my heart wasn't ready to love again. I was 5 months newly divorced when we met. I was still picking up the pieces of my life that had been so severely broken; learning who I was and where I contributed to the ending of my marriage so that I didn't bring those issues into a new relationship. I knew I wanted to be whole and healed. I wasn't and it scared me, but he was patient. After 2 years of dating, mixing our families, countless hours of working out logistics of parenting our kids separately together (if that makes sense), we made it official.

It was a small ceremony at the court house with just a few friends in attendance. The judge was so sweet and his words were beautiful. I was so relieved to know he was a christian judge as well. We stood there and pledged our love forever. It got so mushy that by the time we got to the "I do's" I considered just saying "DUH" instead to break up the mush of it all. (I didn't, but I now I wish I had. Maybe when we renew our vows. right honey?)

What? I HAD TO BREAK UP THE MUSHY!

Hi

*looks left*

*looks right*

*deep breath*

*steps out and blogs*

Hello friends!

How ya doin'?

It's been a while, I know. My friend, Rachel, is peer pressuring me into blogging again and I'm such a sucker for peer pressure that I decided to give it another try. Not really an honest try, because this post is all about reintroduction (which, if you've been reading here for any length of time, I've done on several occasions). So, without any promises of regular postings or any direction what-so-ever on where this blog is going, I'm here. And I have a few ideas for posts in my head.

So....

Hi! :)

The evolution of my son

He changes without my permission.

It starts with a frustration. He asks his brother for help on the swing and his brother, being too busy, refuses. He cries. I teach him the fundamentals of swinging; rock back and forth while you pump your legs. He tries and quickly gives up.

A week later, he runs to me and says "Mom! I want to show you something!" We head to the swing where he climbs up and pushes himself back and forth with only the strength of his upper body and legs. He's practiced and figured it out.

From frustration, to learning, to practicing, to doing. Sometimes I participate, sometimes I'm just a witness, and sometimes I'm neither. My baby has made another step towards independence. One day I'll just be a bystander, and that's ok. Until then, I'll watch and learn and teach and soak up all that I can of his little boyhood and just enjoy all that he is.

Grown Up Things

It’s probably no secret that I resist being a grown up. Grown ups are just so… responsible! They pay bills, clean house, do yard work and car maintenance, and tell kids NO! Yeah, I know – kids need boundaries and blah blah blah – whatever. Being a grown up is suckage, so I minimize the grown up-ness of life as much as possible.

I’d rather be outside throwing a football to my boys, or riding a ripstick in and through the neighborhood with them on their scooters next to me. We learn valuable lessons, like there is no crying in ripsticking / skateboarding / scootering / bike riding. Yes, I’m a mom who throws a football (not well) and skateboards (fairly well). Someone has to teach these boys to do boy things. We also cook and bake together, play video games and watch tv. Kids are so much cooler than grown ups.

When grown up things come up and I have to deal with them, I deal with them. Bills get paid twice a month. I transfer money and forget about it. If money is tight, I don’t spend any. I made a budget once and for the most part, I stick to it. The kids help with house and yard work, and laundry. Mostly so that I can lesson the burden on myself, but also to teach them responsibility or some crap like that. When the car needs an oil change, I take the kiddo so we can play games and take silly pictures on my phone and goof off.

Basically, while being a grown up is sometimes necessary, I find ways to cope with the responsibilities of it all so I can get back to being normal. And sometimes along the way, I get a chance to pass on my pearls of wisdom on how not to be a grown up.

For Now

I'm writing again... for now. I'm all too aware of the fickleness of my blog and writing, but right now; this moment - I feel like writing. Some day, I might even have something more intelligent to say besides "Hey, I'm writing again! YAY!" Today is probably not that day.

Um... yay for writing?

The More You Know

If you don't want me to spit on your car, you must have your anti-spitting policy clearly visible on all 4 sides of the vehicle so there's no misunderstanding.

Make sure the anti-spitting policy is clear and easy to understand, is precise and to the point. To make sure there is no mistake in understanding, your anti-spitting policy must include definitions of what "spitting" means to you. For example - hocking a lugi, direct licking, licking ones finger and smearing on vehicle.

Furthermore, a good anti-spitting policy will state that verbal permission by the owner, lease/loan holder, financial institution, or driver does not supersede the written policy.

And lastly, make sure it's up to date. I know too well how minds can change and if the anti-spitting policy is not current, I'll assume your mind has changed and you just haven't gotten around to updating it yet. Definition of "up to date" is left to the discretion of me - the one who wants to spit on your car.