I guess you’re forgiven

I said no.  I repeatedly said no.  I even screamed it.  It sounded something like this.


To what am I referring you ask?  Well to the repeated begging and pleading from the smaller humans in my house to let a xbox 360 darken my door.  And all was going pretty well in my house until my sneaky little male offspring decided to call an audible at the line of scrimmage, messing up my whole game plan.

You see my little man decided to ignore the calls from this sideline coach and take his request to the big man.  No, not God.  I don’t think he really has a dog in the dreaded xbox fight.  No I mean the big, fat man.  The one with the red nose and jelly belly.  The man who grants all the ridiculous wishes of children when their mean, fun-killing parents say, ‘No.  I mean No.  NNNOOOOO!’

And do you know what that jolly ol’ elf had the nerve to do?  He brought those blasted games made from videos into my house.  Wrapping it in pretty, shiny paper and leaving it under my tree.

And do you know what happens when your kids open said banned item and scream with elation?  Well you are forced to open the darn thing and hook it up.  (I guess I could have refused to let them have it and sent it back up north, but my Grinch suit was out at the cleaners, so I, well, I caved.)

I was enjoying my sixth day off of work today (Did I mention how much I LOVE working for a school?), when I heard screams coming from the basement.  I ran downstairs and found this.

The blackmail evidence I am going to collect far outweighs my anger.  I guess you are forgiven fat man.



Guess who’s back…

Hello ya’ll!

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been absent for about six weeks around these parts.  (What!  You didn’t notice!?!?!  In the word so Stephanie Tanner…How Rude!)

Well my absence wasn’t particularly planned, and I don’t really have a sellable excuse for it expect, I wasn’t feeling it.

I started this blog a few years ago, because, inside of me, lies this incessant need to write and express myself.  I needed an outlet for that and my personal journal was no longer cutting it.  I’m about to reveal something personal about myself that I don’t tell many people, but I have this dream to one day be a writer.  Because my degree has nothing to do with writing or English, I’ve always felt like a phony saying I wanted to write and be expressive.  So, I started this blog as a way to release those inner feelings.  I’ve purposely never given my blog a particular direction.  I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself.  If I wanted to tell a funny story about my kids, then a self-deprecating tale about myself, followed by the raw emotions of my mom beating cancer, I didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t.  And because of that, my blog because a miss-mash of ramblings from my life.

Then about six weeks ago, the ramblings stopped.  Like I said, I can’t pin point one particular thing that was blocking me.  If I could have, I probably could have broken through sooner.  There were the usually end-of-the-year blahs, holiday build up and let down blahs, cold winter day blahs, work stress blahs, identity theft blahs, adults acting like juveniles blahs, family health stress blahs, realizing I’ve entered the sandwich generation blahs, etc.  Over this time, I’ve had a number of ideas or issues pop up that tempted me to run for the keyboard, but, before I could motivate myself to open the Mac, the feeling dissipated and the blahs won out.

Maybe if I had a definite direction for my blog, I might have blown the dust off sooner.  Who knows.

I know that one thing that kept me away was ‘the pressure.’  The pressure of phrasing what I was thinking in a witty or thoughtful enough way.  The pressure of writing a post that others would enjoy.  The pressure of racking up likes and views.  The pressure of not saying something the wrong way and offending others.  Slowly, bit-by-bit, I let this imagined pressure limit me from saying anything at all….and I stopped writing completely.

Well no more.

From now on, for the new year, I’m going back to my roots.  I’m just going to write.  Whatever I feel, whenever the mood catches me.

We all have different opinions, beliefs, feelings, and ideas.  I can love you, care for you, respect you, accept you, tolerate you and value your opinion, but still not agree with you.  And that’s all ok.

Some might like it, some might not, and that’s ok as well.  I’m no longer concerned with how many likes I get or how many views I generate.  I just need to write again.  For my own personal sanity, I need to let all these emotions, feelings, and words out.