My "Disclaimer"

OK. I got this definition from Dictionary.com...

Disclaimer: a statement, document, or assertion that disclaims
responsibility, affiliation, etc.; disavowal; denial.


I like that "disclaiming responsibility" part.

I am "not responsible" for my nasty attitude or the effect it may have on you.

I told a friend yesterday that I was grouchy. I had to confess (just a few hours earlier) to my husband and the boy that I was in a "bad mood."

So, I decided I needed a "disclaimer." You know, like on the outside of McDonald's 800 degree cup of coffee...

Caution: May contain hot coffee. May cause 3rd degree burns if it spills on you.

Or on the package of potato chips that you just paid $4.00 for...

Contents may have "settled" during shipment. That's why you have 6 chips.

Anyway, I realized that it might be beneficial to those around me if I had a "disclaimer" on me. Like a little (or big) sign that reads:

BE WARNED! I am grouchy today.

or

Caution: Moods may shift unexpectedly.

or

Wearer of this sign may bite your head off without reason.

or

Keep Away! Needs alone time.

or

Contents have "settled" with time and age. Please do not stare.

I can think of lots of times I need to wear my disclaimer signs. There are also plenty of times I wish the people around me had one on, too.

I know... I should really just adjust my attitude. Be more grateful and appreciative. Look for the good in every situation. Have joy and peace.
Maybe I'll wear the sign until I get all that worked out.

If a Picture is Worth 1000 Words, Then What am I Saying?

Cleaning out photo files.

That's what I was doing yesterday.

For too long.

I was cleaning out the picture files that live in my computer. They are a wreck and in need of some major organization. (That is a sickness I have... organizing.)

In my "organizing" frenzy, I came across these great pictures from Christmas. I guess I had forgotten about them because there's nothing "Christmas-y" about them. They made me smile, and then I looked closer. Then... I laughed. You'll see why. We just all happened to be outside goofing off, and I had my camera. Go me.

I'll start by saying that I adore my sis-in-law. My brother made the best choice in a wife, and I got the sister I never had. Love that girl. So.... I just wanted a picture of the two of us. That's when my husband stepped in. Literally.



Shoulda been content with this one, but no... "Take one more! Just in case."



Check out the subtle look on my face. "Is that my moron husband behind us?" "Why is he wrecking our picture?" Looks like I could just reach back there and pinch his tiny head off.


Now check out this not-so-subtle look. "I am gonna hurt him." "He's ruining our Kodak moment."


I wonder where our boy gets his love of having his picture made?

Get Your Head in the Game

Here's my little "Troy." #23... in the white.



Oh. He's gonna hate me now.
If you are not the parent of a kid or tween or pre-tween... Let me explain.

"Troy" is the main character in the High School Musical movies. The movies that are about some perfectly adorable high school kids who sing and dance and make a musical. The movies that most girls (and some guys) between the ages of 6 and 14 love.

The movies that I love. Yep. I confessed. I am a High School Musical fan. There. I said it.

Troy is the cutie-patootie basketball star who wins the game and gets the girl. Gotta love Disney.

Anyway, the boy has been playing him some b-ball. Upward Basketball. I highly recommend it. It's a great "teaching" program for the sport, the kids and spectators are led in a devotion, every child gets to play, and everyone (for the most part) behaves.

So I call him my little Troy, and he hates it. Or, I should say... He PRETENDS to hate it. He rolls his eyes and snarls at me. He threatens me not to say it loud or scream it from the stands.

At least I know I'm doing my job.

One Year Old Today!

Happy Birthday, Noah!
It's hard to believe you're turning one today.
Don't eat too much cake... Well, ok. Eat lots of cake!
Aunt Autumn loves you! (And so do your uncle Dan and cousin Elijah!)

Confused Trees and My Head Hurts

It is unseasonably warm here.

UnSEASONably. Do not make me remind you, oh weather, that you are a bit "outta line." I love your warm sunshiny days, but could we have eased into it a little slower? Maybe not jumped from 30 to 75 degrees SO quickly.

You see, when you change so fast and so soon (it ain't even Valentine's Day, yet)... you confuse the plants. The little trees and bushes think it's time to start growing again. And that, oh weather, involves POLLEN.

Pollen... the dreaded enemy of this Claritin-poppin', inhaler-suckin' family.

Did I mention that I have a headache? That's lasted for about 64 hours now? I think it's the premature pollen. It could be whiplash from the weather change. It could be the dust in my house. It could be the long break between American Idol episodes.

I am not complaining too loudly, though. The flip-flops made a brief appearance yesterday. They were so happy to be out of their little basket.

Now I need a pedicure.

I Hope I Can be His "Out"

Just this week, I was chatting with a friend about our boys. Hers is a year older than mine. He is quickly approaching that "land of in-between." That strange odd place where so much of what they say and do is still so "little boy." But, every now and then you catch a scary glimpse of the tween/teen years that are QUICKLY approaching. Mine is not far behind.

Please don't misunderstand me. I ain't rushing a thing here. I would keep him little forever if it were up to me. I am just coming to grips with the inevitable.

From the get-go, we have been the strict, un-cool parents. We make the boy drink milk (No!), we enforce an early bedtime (Gasp!), we VERY rarely let him attend events without us (Wow!), we don't let him see movies that we haven't pre-viewed (Boring!), and I still walk him to school... even though I could spit on the teachers' cars from my kitchen window. (Not that I would do that!)

Back to my friend's conversation...
Her son had been invited to a birthday party where the kids were gonna watch movies. Movies that their son may not have been allowed to see. When she explained her reasoning to her son, he was ok with it. He was ok with missing that part of the party. Then she said the thing that brought back a long-forgotten feeling. She said,

"I think he may have been a little relieved that I said he couldn't go."

Do you remember that feeling?
Was I the only child on the planet that ever felt that way?

You really weren't sure about going somewhere or doing something and a parent said "no," and a tiny wave of relief washed over you?

I am not talking about backing out of a commitment or not doing something required for school or church. School, homework, church, and family obligations... those were non-negotiable for us, and they are for the boy.

I am talking about those times when you were a teensy bit glad that mom or dad said "no." "Not this weekend." "We have plans." Or, "I don't feel comfortable with you going."

You had an "out," and your parents got the "blame."

"Sorry, my mom said I can't."

You kept your little secret and everyone else just thought you had impossible parents. And, that was ok with them.

Well, it is ok with me, too. If the boy ever needs an "excuse" to not be somewhere he isn't totally comfortable being... I'll be the "out."

I'll say "no" and smile and be the un-cool mom I was meant to be.

Gotta Get it Together

I have not:
1. ironed anything
2. washed anything
3. finished the taxes
4. made the bed
5. balanced my checkbook (in a VERY long time)
6. finished my Bible study
7. put on any makeup
8. loaded the dishwasher
OR
9. figured out what we are having for dinner (Dan's home... We gotta eat like normal people again...)

But...

I fixed the blog. It's all about priorities, folks.
Oh, yeah. I did feed the cats. So they wouldn't eat US.