Archive for the ‘ Uncategorized ’ Category

New Name! New Blog!

Ok, I’ve decided that since I don’t have a ton of history on this blog, I’m going to go ahead and move!  Blogging is a hoot and I think this will be my new hobby.  So, if you want to find me.  I’ll be at http://theprincessblogger.com.  I’m going to have limited access to my computer for the next three days (which really stinks), so I’ll be really posting more starting Thursday!  And probably with a MamaKat assignment!  The last several days as wowyoudontlook42 has been fun, but I think I’m going to have way more fun as The Princess Blogger!

Writer’s Workshop

Mama's Losin' It

Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop

No one has ever asked me if I enjoyed delivering the bad news…I am the HR person, therefore I FIRE, whether I like it or not!

No one has ever asked me for organizational tips!  I am a slightly disorganized HR person.  I utilize the highly functional pile system.  Everything this there…in a pile…on my desk.  Just give me an hour or two to find it.

No one has ever asked me for diet or exercise tips.  I’ve been on every diet known to man (or woman) and can still manage to gain weight.

No one has ever asked me to give a sermon.  They are missing out; I have a lot to say!  I’m usually the one in the back taking pictures or serving cake.

Finally, no one has ever asked me to sing solo.  I’ve offered.  Well, I offered when I was in junior high.  I performed, then watched my parents make a hasty exit out the back.  What does that tell you?  You know, I might be lying just a little bit.  Two years ago, I received an invitation from my church to sing in the special holiday choir.  My church is a very modern church, we don’t usually have a choir, just a rocking’ band.  But this was special, I was asked!  Someone must have heard me sing during praise and worship and thought, “that woman needs to be onstage!”

My husband grabbed my letter and said, “YOU were asked to sing?”  And yes, he said it in disbelief!  But he still won’t admit it!

Then he looked down, under the electric bill and the gas bill, was another invitation for him.  They were inviting everyone to sing. So that invite doesn’t count!

Kings of Leon

I seriously love this song.  My son hates it.  He hates that his mom loves it.

Get Out of My Head!

Jammies.  Check!  Fluffy pillows.  Check!  I am HOME!  My waist is very thankful that I’m wearing stretchy pj’s instead of the too-tight jeans I wore today.  Exhaling, unrestrained, is wonderful.

So, yes, I am back from church.  My bad attitude is gone, thanks to two leaders who allow God to work through them on Wednesday evenings.  Their lesson was “on the money.”  They “read my mail.”  Ok for those of you that don’t attend church regularly, this does not mean that the lesson was on money or that they were rummaging through my mailbox.  Tonight, in a room full of teenage girls (I volunteer in our church’s youth group), the message was for me.  Wow.  It amazes me that I will deal with something so strongly all day long, telling NO one about it, and then me and my attitude are put on notice.  I’m so glad that I went.  Still, it’s freaky for someone who knows nothing about your situation is led to speak exactly what you need to hear.

I do wish that their message had dealt with all of the junk crowding my life. I guess you can only do so much in a forty-five minute lesson.  At this point, the voices in my head are yelling at a steady loud volume and I’m having trouble focusing on anything.  They (the voices) are angry and so am I. But first, I’m not crazy.  I’m not schizophrenic.  I’m writing about the normal self-talk that we all engage in from time to time.  I’m just having trouble turning it off now.  But I am angry.  Pissed off.  Stomp my foot on the ground and pound my fist on the desk mad.  Why am I so upset?  What is causing me to contemplate packing up our belongings and move to Alaska?  One word.  Family.  Actually, two words with a hyphen would be better; extended-family.  My husband, son, and mom, those that dwell in my house are just wonderful.  My father-in-law is just a doll.  But there are others that make me want to run away and hide, with my husband, son and mom (and father-in-law).  It SUCKS.  That word, SUCKS, is not a very lady-like word, but I am using it appropriately at this time!

I know I’m being vague.  I asked my son, “Son, who did  you tell about my blog?”

Eyes squinting and looking off into space, he replied “Ummm, I’m not sure.”

Lovely.  So, extended family members who have really ticked me off, who have gone out of your way to be hurtful to my family, you KNOW who you ARE.   If you’re reading this, I would stop immediately and go read someone else’s blog.  You know who you are.  You know what you’ve said and done.  Most of all God knows.  Period.

I’ve watched family dynamics keep sisters apart for years.  And when they finally were “brought back together,” it was over the phone, mainly, and rarely.  The relationship was never the same.  Pride comes before the fall.

Three Generations Under One Small Roof

Less than six months ago, we added one more generation to the two in our household.  My mother moved in.  This was no simple change.  My husband, son, mother and I were all grieving.  My father had succumbed to cancer after a seven-year battle.  Five days before my dad died, my mother-in-law died of a sudden massive stroke.  One death was a blow, two deaths just took us out of the game completely.  Someday I will write more about that week in September.  Not yet.

Fast forward to present-day.  The four of us live comfortably in our home.  My husband no longer walks around the house in his boxers, though my son is not deterred.   He and his boxers are all over the house.   We have settled into a rhythm.  My mother, a lively 75-year-old woman, does dishes, empties the trash, and washes my son’s clothes.  My teenager is LOVING this.  He has avoided chores for months.  But this week is spring break and Grandma is on vacation.  Not literally.  She’s still here, but the only dirty dishes she’s touching are her own and she’s NOT cleaning them.  The sink is piled high after one day without Grandma at the faucet.  What did we do before she moved in?  I can’t remember!