Friday, August 16, 2013

Where'd You Go?

Hello! DivaScript has moved to Hope to see you there!

Reducing Stress, Five Minutes at a Time

I planned on showing you my Ode to Denim outfits today, but two things changed my mind.

1. A friend tweeted about her need to take better care of herself. Stress from work is taking its toll.

2. Hubby, who has the girls during the day while he's on leave from work, reached his limit. Lil Ma woke up too early, didn't nap long enough and whined nonstop. I could tell he needed relief when he fussed at Mini Me because she didn't want lettuce on her chicken sandwich.

After Lil Ma slapped a spoonful of peaches across the room, Hubby went into the basement. We finished dinner without him. I left a sandwich on the oven. A while later, I heard footsteps, and then the sandwich was gone.

Life throws a lot at us. On any given day, there are countless things that could change me from Bruce Banner into the Hulk. 

Five minutes can make the difference. It may not seem like all that much, but I've learned to use the time to quiet my nerves and focus on solutions. Here are a few things I do to quiet my inner Hulk.

Get some distance. At work, a never-ending to do list and an overflowing inbox give me heartburn. Walking away from my computer for a few minutes allows me to gain perspective. When the girls are pushing my buttons at home, I'll ask Mini Me to keep an eye on her sister while I handle some in-house errand like putting laundry into the washer.

Breathe. I hold my breath and hunch my shoulders when I'm stressed. The resulting neck cramp can last for days if I'm not careful. After the girls are asleep, I sit, enjoy the silence, and take some deep breaths. It helps my shoulders get back to where they belong.

Yoga. When the deep breaths don't cut it, I pull out the yoga mat. By focusing on the poses, I'm able to clear my mind and let go of what's bothering me, even if it's just for a little while.

Online Window Shopping/Pinterest. When I'm developing a project at work or writing at home, I give myself five-minutes "breaks" after completing a portion of the task. Setting the timer on my phone helps me steer clear of rabbit holes.

Not everything is for everyone. Hubby, for example, needs about two hours in his man cave with a game controller or a remote in hand. Even if these ideas aren't for you, I hope you are encouraged to find something that works.

What tips do you have for relieving stress?

Thursday, August 15, 2013


I'd forgotten how many forms kids bring home during the first day of school. Mini Me's stack looks bigger than last year. The papers all ask for the same thing; they're just different colors. Parents names. Contact information. Emergency contact information. Food allergies. Backup emergency contacts. I still don't understand why the office can't take one form I complete and copy it as needed. Or better yet, couldn't this stuff be online?

Sorry, I digress.

One of the papers was for a violin program. Students who participate will take two weekly violin lessons during school hours, and there will be two evening concerts.

I have a soft spot for the violin. When I was in the fifth grade, I asked my parents if I could play. I convinced them to meet with the music teacher for details. The instrument expense, combined with their open disdain for extracurricular activities, kept my hopes at bay.

Not wanting to live vicariously through my kid, I asked Mini Me for her take.

"I'd like to try it," she grinned.

I mentioned the program to Momma and said that I planned on letting Mini Me join.

"Sounds good," she said.

Say what?

I reminded her I wanted to play violin. I told her how she and Daddy tag teamed me with a slew of reasons why violin lessons were a bad idea.

"Didn't you want to play the xylophone?" she asked.

"No, the violin," I said.  "Would you have let me play the xylophone?"

"Hmm. I don't remember this at all, " Momma said.

I am well aware of the fact that she didn't answer the question.

The smallest moments from childhood affect how you parent. I wasn't distraught about not playing violin, but I think of it whenever Mini Me wants to try something new. I remind myself that this is her time for exploration. Hubby and I want to expose her to a variety of experiences.

I'm not sure if Mini Me will take to the violin, but I do know this will make for a very noisy school year. Anybody know where I can get earplugs wholesale?

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Wordless Wednesday: Glamour Girl

My one-year-old daughter prefers eating shoes to wearing them. Except when it comes to this pair; she will wear them nearly all day.  I'm sure the glitter has something to do with it.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

My Third Grader

Today, Mini Me started her first day of the third grade. I can hardly believe time has gone by so quickly. I didn't think I'd ever use the phrase "it seems like only yesterday," but then I had kids.

When I held Mini Me in my arms for the first time, I peered into her tiny face and wondered what type of person she'd be. Time flew. She's in her fourth year of elementary school, and now I know.

She's awesome.

Mini Me is funny and creative. She has this MacGyver-esque sense that can repurpose just about anything into a work of art. Her love for pink and glitter knows no bounds. She loves to dance. If her favorite song comes on, Mini Me has no problem singing it loud enough (and I do mean loud) for everyone within earshot.

She's also extremely tenderhearted. Her sympathy extends to mistreated pets, friends and family, and anyone she sees on TV. I make sure to avoid watching the news before bedtime because any story of hardship keeps her from sleep.

I remember the person I was in the third grade. Quiet. Reserved. Unsure. I had a small group of friends, and I preferred the back of the crowd, unless I was sitting in a classroom. Mini Me, so named for her physical resemblance to me, is willing to give new experiences a try. And, if you let her, she'll often lead the way.

I want my daughter to embrace her creative, adventurous nature. As she navigates through life, she'll experience things that further shape the woman she becomes. Some of these experiences will be wonderful, and others will, for lack of a better word, suck.

Here are a few things that I want to share with Mini Me this year to help her with the journey:

  • Always be you, even when others don't get it. This will be hard at times but worth it in the end.
  • Don't tease or put someone else down so you can fit in. Loving yourself doesn't mean hating everyone else.
  • Trust that little voice inside. If you think something is wrong, it probably is. And whenever your "spidey sense" goes off, it's definitely wrong. Get out of that situation as fast as you can.
  • Keep asking questions, even when it drives Daddy and me nuts. 
  • Remember that we love you, and you can come to us about anything.
I am so honored that God entrusted me with this boisterous spirit. 

Monday, August 12, 2013

Fabulous Me: Ode to Denim

I give very little detail about my job on the blogosphere. There's a very good reason for that. We have a blogging policy and I value my paycheck.

I work in the communications field, and our office has been business casual for years. Denim was on the no-no list until about a year ago. We were given the green light to wear it on Fridays only. Last week, management announced that we can wear denim any day of the week, as long as we use our best judgement.

There was a denim jacket in my office from a casual Friday. As soon as I left the staff meeting, I put it on. If I had some confetti, I would have thrown it. I love denim.

I've heard arguments on both sides of the denim-at-work argument. Some say that it hinders productivity and professionalism, others say that denim makes employees happy. And happy employees are more productive. I tend to agree with the latter.

Plus, did I mention that I love denim?

In honor of my job's new dress policy, I'm wearing denim to work every day this week. I'll post the pics on Friday for you to see.

What do you think about denim at the office? How do you dress it up to make it work appropriate?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Saturday, August 10, 2013

The Grocery Store

Saturday morning, I readied the girls and headed to the grocery store. Of all of the errands I run, grocery shopping ties with getting gas as something I wish I could pay someone else to handle.

My regular store recently rearranged everything, and I have yet to get my bearings. Add to that the fact that I accidentally deleted my list, and grocery shopping temporarily clinches the No.1 spot on my list of least-favorite things to do.

My eldest, however loves it. So I try to keep a chipper attitude as we wander the aisles. I waited patiently as Mini Me studied the Pop-Tarts while Lil Ma tried to eat a raisins box (not to be confused with a box of raisins).

Even with a couple of back tracks, we made it through the store in about 20 minutes and found a cashier with no line.

Our cart wasn't overflowing, but things never fit back into it once they're bagged. I asked Mini Me to get another cart.

She looked concerned. "You mean I have to walk out the door and back in?"
I sighed. "Yes, but I can see you." Mini didn't look convinced.

"You can have mine." A voice from behind me said. I turned and saw an older gentleman. He was medium build with dark brown skin and a gentle expression. Most of his face was covered by a trucker's hat and those oversized frames that grandpas wear. He had about five items on the conveyor belt.

I thanked him and passed the cart to the bagger. When I turned back to the cashier to pay, he was holding out two one-dollar bills.

"Please give these to your girls," he said. "They're so precious, and they remind me of my own grandkids."

He really made my day. I thanked him profusely before heading out the door.
That was the first time that I really understood the impact that a random act of kindness can have. I plan on paying it forward.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Icees and Insults

Target is a problem for me. No matter how I hard I try, I cannot walk in there and spend less than $50. There's always something that catches my attention, and I make an excuse to buy it.

I've had the most success avoiding the concession counter, but today something caught my eye.

The Cherry-Pomegranate Icee. 

I'm a sucker for an Icee. I live about 5 minutes from a movie theater, but I will drive another 15 minutes to a theater that sells white cherry Icees.

As I was paying for my popcorn/Icee combo, two women and a teen approached the counter.

"I'll be right with you," the clerk said to them as she went to get my popcorn. 

The teen made several "Mama can I have" menu requests while they waited. Mom vetoed every one and suggested water. When the girl started to complain, Mom suggested that she use her own money. The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes.

I held back my chuckle as I took my popcorn and Icee cup from the clerk. Mini Me was only 8, and she panicked at any mention of breaking into her allowance.

Mom turned to the other woman in her party. "This heifer got paid this week, but then she has the nerve to turn around ask me for money."

"But I didn't get any money for my birthday!" the girl exclaimed. The other woman laughed. 

I was so caught up in the exchange that I ovefilled my Icee cup. 

Did this woman just call her teenage daughter a heifer?

It's easy to pass judgement on a single incident, so I did my best avoid that. Instead, I started to think about what I say to my own daughter. My temper runs short when I feel rushed or overwhelmed. In various moments, I've called her a drama queen, a slow-poke, and a faker (based on ailments that flare up only at bedtime).  

I go Mama-Bear HAM if someone says someting hurtful to my kids, but what good is that if I then turn around and insult them? 

Some comments may not seem like a big deal, but multiplied over the weeks, months, and years of childhood, they could degrade a relationship.

When I was in high school, I won an essay contest. I didn't want to attend the award ceremony and read my work, but my mom made me go. When I released my teenage rage, she said I was acting like a bitch. I was hurt. After I read the essay, I was glad I did. I decided I was being a jerk, and I let it go.

But that single incident had the potential to leave an ugly scar.

I want my kids to feel loved even when I don't agree with their decisions, so I need to be more mindful of the things I say. 

What would you like to change about the way you communicate?

Friday, August 09, 2013

The Talk

I was nervous about having The Talk with my daughter even before she was born. I thought about how my parents handled it, and I wanted to try something different. My first education on the birds and the bees came from the Charlie Brown encylopedia. I vaguely remember Charlie and Lucy pointing to a diagram of a baby in the womb.

When I was in the fifth or sixth grade, my school passed out a pamplet about menstruation. It was written by Kotex, and the main characters were three girls who were pen pals. They spent the entire time writing about how their bodies were changing as they navigated puberty. I showed it to my mom, and she asked me to read it and come to her with any questions. I didn't really have any. Charlie Brown and the Kotex Girls were pretty thorough. Or at least I thought they were.

I also remember my dad trying to talk to me. We were watching an episode of The Facts of Life, and Tootie and Jeff were contemplating sex. My dad looked at me and said, "You know you shouldn't be doing that, right?"

My response: "They love each other and are talking about marriage. Isn't that what they're supposed to do?" Plus, I was 11 and Tootie was 19 or 20. She seemed like an old woman to me. My dad got flustered and changed the subject.

Although everything turned out fine for me, I want a more open relationship with my daughters. I read about the things that are happening with kids these days, and the landscape is so different from when I was a girl. To me, it's downright frightening at times. Keeping communications open with them is critical.

My first talk with Mini Me was when she was five. She had just taken a bath, and I was helping her into her PJs. We talked about what made girls different from boys and how those parts are private. I told her no one should try to touch her priviate parts, and if they did, she should go to a teacher and to me right away.

She nodded, and then proceeded to ask me about our next's days itinerary. Every so often, I would broach the subject again and pepper in new information. We talked about strangers, what to do if she were lost, and I reminded her every time that there was nothing that she couldn't ask me.

She took me up on my offer two years later. We were on our way home from a birthday party, and I was beat. The radio station that usually plays popular music and home loan commercials decided to run a series of Planned Parenthood ads that day. Mini Me picked up on the subject matter before I could change the station.

"Can teenagers get pregnant?" she asked.

"Um, yes." I said.

"Were you pregnant in high school?"

"No," I said.

"Why not?"

"Huh?" I wasn't really sure where she was going with this.

"How is it that some girls get pregnant in high school, but you didn't?"

"Um, I didn't spend time with boys in a way that I could get pregnant." I was dodging, but I just wasn't ready.

"Spend time like how? You mean like eating lunch?"

This was not going well. I had flashbacks of an Happy Days episode where a girl thought you got pregnant by swimming with boys. I took a deep breath.

"Let's get home. I'll put your sister down for a nap, and then we can talk." 

She seemed satisfied, but home was less than five minutes away, and the baby was already asleep. This stall wasn't going to buy me much time.

After Lil Ma was in her room, I sat down with Mini Me and started our conversation. 

"Do you remember when I explained how you and your sister came out of Mom's tummy?" 

She nodded. "You squeezed and we came out through your privates."

"Yes," I said. "And babies are put into a mommy's tummy through her privates. mommy and daddy touch their private parts to make a baby."

"Ew!" She frowned. 

"So, when two grown-ups decide that they want to be a mommy and a daddy...."

"They touch privates." She finished my sentence with her frown still intact.

"That's right. Girls and boys in high school make sometimes babies when they don't fully understand what they're doing."

"Umph," Mini Me crossed her arms. "I don't want to have a baby in high school, so I won't be rubbing my privates with a boy. I'm waiting until I'm 30."

"Smart girl," I smiled. There was a lot more to cover, but I figured that was enough for one day. 

That was about eight months ago. During her annual physical, the pediatrician mentioned the p word: puberty. I take that as a sign to have another talk. They get a little easier each time, but I still get a edgy. It's more important that I keep the lines of communication open, so I push my nerves aside.

At what age do you think it's appropriate to talk to your kids about sex? How did you handle the conversation? Did you use any books, or did you just wing it?

Thursday, August 08, 2013

Five Minutes for Makeup, Part 3

This is the third installment on my skincare and makeup series.

I wrote about my five-minute face a few years ago, but some things have changed. As I mentioned in a previous post, it seems to take more makeup these days to make me look "natural."

I've focused on clearning out my old products and keeping my makeup brushes clean, and that has helped a lot. My skin experiences fewer breakouts, and fewer breakouts means less make up. So, I can still get ready in about five minutes.

This blog is about my everyday face. On special occasions, I make an effort to get more glam. Before I dive into my routine, here's a bare-faced shot so you know what I'm working with:

Step One: Wash. Tone. Serum. Moisturize. I have this down pat. It only takes a minute.

Step Two: I completely make up my eyes with primer and shadow, then I add concealer. I learned this trick from a Sephorian. It allows you to clean up any mistakes with concealer and not waste any time.

Step Three. Foundation, then powder. Use a stiple brush, and I put foundation only where I need it. Then I give my entire face a quick sweep of powder.

Step Four: Blush. This is a recent addition. I use two blushes; one is for color, and the other is a translucent that gives me a dewy look.

Step Five: Lips. Half the time, I end up putting on lip gloss in the car because the color I want to use is in my purse.

The first time I clocked this routine, it took me six and a half minutes to complete. I realized I spent a lot of time digging in my Caboodle for things one by one. Now I pull everything out first, and that reduced the time by a minute.

Here's the finished product. My bathroom light was terrible, so I took the photo at work.

I'd love to hear any tips you have about makeup and skincare. Even though I've simplified things, I'm still a cosmetics junkie!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, August 07, 2013

Happy Birthday, Momma!

Sorry for the interruption in the five-minute face series, but I would get a Daniel Green house shoe upside the head if I did not acknowledge today's holiday.

It's my mom's birthday!

I've always thought of Momma (her preferred spelling) as a force of nature. She's deeply loving and equally no nonsense. Big M takes mess from no one. And while she's never been a stranger to a good time, Momma kept her guard up around us. That's how it should be, though. She's our mom, not our friend.

This is Momma during her college years. Aside from handling business at the card table, I have no idea what's going on. But I've always loved it. It shows her in a totally free moment, long before marriage and motherhood met her acquaintance.

There were times when I was growing up that I thought my mom didn't understand me, but after I found this photo, I realized that wasn't the case. The girl in this photo had a life. She had friends and fun. She made mistakes.

She was like me.

Happy Birthday, Momma! I love you.

Tuesday, August 06, 2013

Five Minutes for Makeup, Part 2

This is the second in my three-part series on my experiences with skincare and makeup.

I've been on a mission of late to maintain to most radiant skin possible. In my previous post, I talked about getting rid of old and unusable products.

After I tackled my Caboodle full of expired skincare and makeup, I focused on how my makeup brushes affect the health of my skin. I'm sure there is a scientific explanation about how it works, but I'm going with logic. Using a brush over and over without cleaning it means at some point, you are putting dirt on your face and back into your products. This sounds gross, and I doubt that it's good for your complexion.

A Sephorians once suggested I use sponges to apply makeup. I wouldn't have to worry about contaminating products or keeping tools clean. I tried it and hated it. My makeup was splotchy, and I kept forgetting to buy new sponges after I ran out. So I stick with brushes. They give me the application I like with minimal effort. To keep the makeup cooties at bay, I spend five minutes each week cleaning them. There are two techniques that I've tried.

Baby Shampoo or Liquid Hand Soap. Wet the brush and work a little soap into the it. Rinse until the water's clear. Be careful not to let the metal clamp that connects the brush to the handle get too wet. Over time, excess moisture could weaken the glue that keeps the bristles in place. During one of my numerous trips to somebody's cosmetics counter, a consultant told me to let the brushes dry while lying on their sides. If possible, the bristles should hang over an edge. Never put your brushes upside down in a cup; they will get mangled. Lying your brushes on a towel to dry could bring on mildew (yuck!).

Dishwashing Liquid + Vinegar. I found this link thanks to Pinterest. Mix one tablespoon of dish detergent and one tablespoon of vinegar with a cup of warm water. Swish the brushes around, again taking care to avoid the metal clamp. Rinse until clear and dry as indicated above. I thought my brushes were clean until I tried this method. The water turned brown as soon as the tip of the brush hit the water.

I've seen a HUGE difference since I started regularly cleaning my brushes. My makeup applies much better, and I tend to use less product. Between this and using unexpired products, I've had fewer breakouts.

Stay tuned for Part 3 - My five-minute face!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Monday, August 05, 2013

Five Minutes for Makeup, Part 1

The older I get, the more makeup it takes for me look as if I'm not wearing all that much makeup.

I spent my teens in nothing but lip gloss. A brief summer job at a department store cosmetics counter won me a slew of eyeshadow, most of which I gave away or let expire. I breezed through my 20s with gloss, groomed eyebrows and the occassional application of undereye concealer or powder.

Then 30 happened. That year, I had my first child, and fluctuating hormones, sleepless nights, and sketchy eating habits made my skin go beserk. The makeup routine of my youth no longer cut it.

Fortunately, my time at the cosmetics counter put me on a good skincare rountine. I wash, tone and moisturize twice a day. Unfortunately, that same experience made me a skincare junkie. I'm willing to try just about anything, and the words "gift with purchase" are very difficult for me to ignore. Once I decided to jump on the makeup bandwagon, the addiction took hold. Emails from Sephora inevitably ended in an online order.

The binge resulted in an overwhelming collection of products. I figured out how to put on my makeup in about five minutes (explanation to come in Part 3), and I was generally pleased.

Yet, I was not that happy with my natural complexion. I experienced occasional breakouts, and the zits left dark spots that took months to fade.

I opened my medicine cabinet one day and looked at my skincare and makeup. I was unsure of when some of them were purchased. That's when the epiphany hit:

Was I making my skin worse by using too many products and/or expired products? The miracle of modern technology known as Google led me to a few articles that confirmed my suspicions. Makeup can grow bacteria if it's kept too long. I've never known the "b" word to be associated with anything good, so I went about the business of cleaning out my cosmetics.

I pulled out my Caboodle and stash of cosmetics bags. I'm a child of the 80s, so yes, I still have a Caboodle. It's blue with a purple clasp and pull-out tray; I convinced my mom to buy it for me because it was on clearance at Target.

But, I digress. Here's how I spent five minutes:

Samples and unflattering free gifts were the first to go. I have sensitive combination skin, so anything uncomplementary to that hit the trash. BB cream and foundations labeled "oyster bisque" were next out the door. My profile pic should tell you why those don't work. I also tossed samples of high-priced products. There's no need to fall in love with anything I can't afford to buy when the sample runs out.

Then I tackled my products in rotation and got rid of anything that expired. I've heard so many things about how long you should keep makeup, so this was tricky.  In general, mascara is a three-month deal. I value my eyesight, so I adhere to this one. Most foundations last about a year, some powders can go for two. Eye and lip liners, when sharpened from time to time, can last about three years. If you're like me, and you don't remember when you bought it, it's probably a good idea to throw it out. And if it smells funny, that's a definite toss.

During one of my many trips to Sephora, a makeup artist told me to pay attention to product labels. Some manufacturers indicate how long to keep a product with this tiny diagram:

If you have extra time, you can use those little round stickers to label products. I write down the date that I open it so that I know how long it takes me to use something completely. And I know exactly when to toss it if there's any left when that window expires.

So, how's my skin doing? I'll give you an update in Part 2!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, August 04, 2013

A Look Back

A friend posted this vintage pic of me to Facebook last year. 

There are more recent days that I can't remember, but this moment is pretty clear. This was during my junior year of college. My sorority was hosting a fundraiser, and my BFF and I were co-chairs. The tuxedo shirt was the evening's uniform. A Soror snapped this pic while we were setting up. 

That event (DST King of Hearts Pageant) was the first event I'd ever planned. There were so many moving parts, and I was a bundle of nerves. One of the contestants was driving me batty, and I remember screaming at him at some point. There were a few other hiccups, but overall, the evening went well. 

I didn't appreciate this photo until I ran across it a couple of weeks ago. I make my living as a project manager and event planner, so this pic is a glimpse of how I started. 

One thing I wish I had known then is that the unexpected will always happen, no matter how well you plan. What makes the difference is how you navigate the bumps along the way. Keep a cool head, a calm demeanor, and treat your team with respect. 

Oh, and wear comfortable shoes. I had on heels that night. My feet were killing me by the time I got home. 

Saturday, August 03, 2013

Five Minute Baby Bag

Last week, I took Lil Ma to a birthday party. Not long after we arrived, it was time for a diaper change. The hostess graciously escorted us to the birthday girl's nursery and offered the use of their changing table.

"Feel free to use whatever you need," she said as she left the room.

I put Lil Ma on the floor so I could look in my bag for supplies. I unzipped it and was met with chaos. Tissues, burp cloths and clothes spilled out. I pushed the mess aside and pulled out a diaper. While trying to keep Lil Ma from going into the closet, I kept looking for wipes and diaper cream. I knew they were in there, but I couldn't find them.

So I took the hostess up on her offer and used whatever I couldn't find in my personal black hole.

About an hour later, Lil Ma was getting cranky. I went back to the bag and fished around for what felt like ages before I found a baggie with baby food.

When I got home, I was determined to get the bag in order. It took less than a minute to figure out the problem. Instead of checking the bag's contents before packing, Hubby and I would just grab new supplies and cram them on top of the old ones.

Five focused minutes has my diaper bag ready for the next trip. Here's what I did.

1. Toss. I found two crusty spoons, a half-eaten jar of food and a gaggle of dirty clothes. I shudder to think how long those things were in there. Besides being a waste of space, they're just gross.

2. Reduce. While I do need a supply of diapers when I run an errand, it's highly unlikely that I'll need 10 of them. Cutting down to four or five saves space. I keep a few extra in the car for emergencies.  

3. Refill. My wipes container, once I found it, was empty. The zip bag I use for extra clean clothes was empty too. I refilled them both.

4. Compartmentalize. I have a gazillion cosmetics bags from various free gifts with purchases. Those are perfect for holding little items like tissue, lip balm, lotion, or diaper cream.

5. Repeat. To maintain order and keep science projects at bay, I'll have to do a clean out after each use.

I'm going to take my newly organzied bag on the road tomorrow, so I'll see how it goes. It will be a win if I can find the A&D ointment.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, August 02, 2013

Parents Say the Darnedest Things

Bill Cosby once had a show about the delightful things that children say. I never watched an episode, but I remember how much my dad loved it. I was a single girl focused on starting her career, and the thought of motherhood gave me the willies. The show had zero appeal.

Funny how things have changed. I'm now a mother of two energetic girls, and I'm exceedingly tickled by their interpretations of the world. Hubby and I were just laughing about how Mini Me once believed frogs rode schoolbuses thanks to a Leap Frog toy she had. Lil Ma hasn't learned to talk yet, but her expressions say plenty.

As comical as those moments can be, I sometimes find what I tell my children even more hilarious. Hubby and I have said things in the past eight years that I never thought would need to be said by anyone. 

Here's a sample from just this week:

"Don't eat your shoes!"

"We kiss with our lips, not our teeth."

"Is that poo on your hands?"

"Say goodnight to the beach ball."
This just might be my favorite of all time:

"Please don't step on Daddy's man parts."

What's the funniest thing you've said to your children?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, August 01, 2013

#31WriteNow Blog Challenge

When writing and I are in the midst of a love affair, things are good. Sentences and turns of phrase come to me without hesitation. Paragraphs feel as if they write themselves. And the best part? I like what I've created.

But writing and I aren't together right now. Putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard feels like a chore. I often face a blank screen instead of inspiration.

Life has pulled us in two different directions. A new baby, a new job for Hubby, and a quasi-new job for me are just a few of the forces that have grappled for my attention. Over the past few months, I've been trying to get us reunited. It's been a series of fits and starts.

So when I ran across Awesomely Luvvie's post about a 31-day blog challenge for August, I was intrigued. The challenge is to post new content every day from now until the end of the month. No throwbacks.

After my initial interest settled, doubt began to creep in. I have too much to do. Work is starting to pick up. Hubby will be leaving town soon. The three posts a week I've been trying to write are hard enough; there's no way I can handle a post a day.

Doubt moved to worry: What if I fall off after a week? What if I can't think of anything to write?

Worry gave way to fear: What if I my writing is awful? What if the love affair never returns?

Our relationship may not become what it once was, or it could come back stronger that ever. I won't know, though, until I try. So I'm closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and digging in.

I hope you will come along for the ride.