Rocks In My Dryer

Famous In Our Own Lunchtimes

If you were to put your ear up next to my ear, I swear you would hear crickets chirping.  My head is empty.  Empty.  A wasteland of unbloggable nothing-ness.  So I was mightily relieved when Catez came to the rescue with a meme--and one she wrote herself, to boot.  So here we go.

What do you like most about where you live?

The people.  I have never lived in a place where the people are as friendly as Oklahoma, USA.  Strangers are kind, and the friends are even better. 

Is there anything strange about where you live?

The wind. Oh, the wind.  (Sing it with me)...

O-o-o-o-o-oklahoma
Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plains
And makes it impossible to have neat hair and painful to wear contacts
And can turn your lawn chair into a missile
And pull your baby's stroller right out of your hands...

Another unusual thing is that my city is considered a international hub of the charismatic movement, and it really permeates the culture around here.  As in, it wouldn't be all that unusual for someone in the produce section to give you "a word from the Lord". 

What's one of your all-time favourite music albums and why?  (I'm keeping Catez's sophisticated New Zealand spelling of "favourite" to inject a little culture around here).

If I had to nail down just one, I guess I'd say Billy Joel's Greatest Hits.  And the why is because...well, because he's Billy Joel. 

Some other good albums I have enjoyed in my lifetime are

• True Blue by Madonna (y'all give me a break--it was 1986)
• Beauty and Beast (remember this TV show?)  This is a gorgeous album.
• John Mellencamp's Greatest Hits
• Ultimate Manilow (of course)
• Showstoppers by Manilow (another really great Manilow album)
• No Fences by Garth Brooks  (I'm not a huge country music fan, but really, this is a great album)

Did you have a passion for something as a kid that you still have now? (If not - what is one of your passions now?)

I've always had a passion for a really good story, whether it's reading it, watching it in a movie, or hearing someone tell it to me. 

What do you like most about having a blog?

Honestly?  I'm feeling a little burnt-out on the blog front these days, so this is a good question for me to answer.  I suppose what I like the most is just the daily writing.  I can tell a difference in how my brain is working, now that I have a reason to sit down and write every single day. 

Also, of course, I really enjoy the friends I've made in Bloggityville. 

I don't think I'll tag anyone, but if you want to do it, just leave a note in the comments section.

Works For Me: The Notebook

If my house catches fire, I'm getting the kids first, and this little tool second:

There's no offical name for this--around here, we just call it The Notebook.  And we say it in a reverent whisper.  Basically, it's where I keep all the catch-all papers it takes to manage this family of six.

On the cover you see a photo of my little darlings (in real life I promise they DO have faces).

Inside the front cover I have taped an assortment of important information, like social security numbers, combination to the padlock gate in the backyard, and the right way to set a table (it's my dirty little secret:  no matter how many tables I set, I cannot, CANNOT remember where the napkin and spoon go without a cheat sheet.)

I keep a three-ring hole punch in my kitchen, and any important piece of paper that darkens our door gets punched right away.  Any papers that will be referred to regularly find their way into the The Notebook.  It is NOT for filing papers that I might use once or twice a year (like birth certificates).  And I don't use it for keeping track of documents to be filed, like paid bills or health insurance statements.  Those documents have a much less glamourous fate awaiting them in the garage filing cabinet. 

My notebook is divided into the following tabs:

• Pending (for papers that I'll be working on in the next week or two)
• Contacts (my phone list)
• Groceries (where I keep blank forms for this little system)
• Church
• Adam--school (these next three tabs hold classroom information I refer to often, like snack schedules, phone lists, etc.  Keepsake-type school papers head out to the filing cabinet)
• Stephen--school
• Joseph--school
• Computer (where I keep all my passwords and ideas for blog posts--a very short list at the moment, by the way)
• Soccer (I have two boys who play;  this is where we store rosters, schedules, etc.)
• Scouts (I have two boys in Scouts, too; this is where we keep up with the bazillions of little papers and projects it takes to participate)
• Ideas (Just a random catch-all place to write down my great ideas that never come to fruition.  This is a LONG list.)
• Notes (Because you have to keep blank paper somewhere, right?)

This has really helped me keep track of all the paper a busy family can accumulate! 

If you want to share your great idea, please include your Works-For-Me Wednesday Link below.  Guidelines, should you need them, can be found here.

Oh, and one last thing...Jeana and GreenGenes won my little grammar contest yesterday, with the prize being (oh-can-you-stand-the-excitement) an honorary featured position in today's WFMW post.  SO, you must go and visit them first, because it is a fine, fine thing when a woman knows how to hyphenate. 

1. Pass The Torch (kids and 30 days nothing) 2. Overwhelmed! (creating blogging categories) 3. Shannon (Paid Bills) 4. Rebecca Mielke DIY knee-length board shorts 5. Trisha (on-the-go emergencies) 6. Owlhaven (dealing with big changes) 7. Mama Duck (cleaning tennis shoes) 8. Org Junkie (keeping track of recipes) 9. Meineke (reading and writing) 10. ByGrace (stop that sliding!) 11. sa5ra ($5 clothes) 12. Mieneke (Reading and Writing) 13. Larae (Menu Binder) 14. Kelly (busy morning breakfast) 15. Mary Ann (menu planning) 16. Kathryn (magazine holders) 17. Lindsey (Web Forms) 18. Kel(kids and classical music) 19. Katrina (Gift Stash) 20. Rebecca (Barbie!) 21. Becky 22. Dianne (Blogging Tips) 23. Snapshot (eating more F&V) 24. Barbara H. (reminders for school stuff) 25. BooMama 26. Mom In Action (time saver) 27. Carol (school lunches) 28. Heather (Studying the Classics) 29. TeeTee (Clutter Control) 30. GranolaGirl (creative party favors) 31. Laura (home buying) 32. Chilihead (refreshing your cache) 33. whimsy (web photo albums) 34. Toblerone (Shower Fun w/ Hubby!) 35. Kim (pretty dish detergent!) 36. LammyAnn (Cold-Cereal-Conservation!) 37. Julie -- Kitchen Scissors 38. Kristina (Toy Box Organization & Keeping Toys Together) 39. Laurel Wreath (entertainment) 40. Joni (scrap journaling solution) 41. Susanne ~ toy rotation 42. Sandra (Fall Cleaning) 43. Frugal Momma (20 Tips in One Post) 44. Peggy (wear jeans longer) 45. Kim C (don\'t lose posts) 46. Heather (new living arrangements)

47. My Twenty Cents Keeps Moving (What\'s for Dinner?) 48. Amy (GPS) 49. MomInTandyLand (School bus) 50. Casey (morning sickness) 51. veronica (gardening cheaply) 52. Tess (blogging) 53. Honey (Child\'s Vacuum) 54. lady laura (new uses-old things) 55. Shalee (Thank Yous) 56. Everyday Mommy (Menu Planner) 57. Pastormac\'s Ann (New Toothbrush?) 58. Melissa (Family Meetings) 59. Melissa (you are special today) 60. Barb (out of the kitchen fast) 61. Shereen(personal worship) 62. Maggie (Electronic calendar use) 63. Pieces (blogger banner) 64. Carmen (learning to ride a bicycle) 65. Nicki (Transporting Library Books) 66. Too Many To Count (kids do-it-yourself) 67. Shannon (Homemade Lacto-Cultured Salsa) 68. Amelia (cleaning out email) 69. Jen (my first one!!!) 70. Mrs Darling) Is Housework a Drudgery?) 71. Amanda (children\'s chores;right link) 72. Ana Paula 73. Mira (keys) 74. BWS (exercise motivation) 75. RaisingFive (Weekly planning for moms) 76. utmommy 77. Crouching Mommy, hidden Laundry (how to keep your sheets tucked in) 78. Biblical Womanhood (Easy Breakfasts) 79. Sundance (Frienship) 80. Des (Travel Airports) 81. Gina (Cutting Food Easily) 82. dcrmom (Musings of a Housewife) 83. Kelli (fast, cheap dinners) 84. Julie (Kids\' Snacks) 85. The Wooden Porch 86. on the Rock 87. Amy Caroline (Lost Items) 88. Multitasking Mama (Desktop Clutter) 89. petersonclan (Killing Flies) 90. petersonclan (Killing Flies) 91. Catherine (Weight Watchers)

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Grammatically Speaking

Let me insert a big ol' giant disclaimer here--I love good grammar, but I don't get all squirrely about grammar mistakes, either. So I'd better not see ONE comment from y'all saying how you're so worried to leave a comment now because I'm going to go grammar-nazi on you, okay?  I just got some of you lurkers to come out of the closet, for Pete's sake!

I had such an interesting response to this post about proper grammar that I thought I should explain to you why good grammar runs so deeply in my blood. 

My mom is an English teacher.  "Ahhhhh," you're saying, "NOW I get it."

I grew up in a rural Arkansas town where poor grammar is as much a part of life as Friday night football.  Combine the two, and you had the weekly chant from the stands, as the refs carefully measured a play, "MOVE THEM CHAINS!  MOVE THEM CHAINS!"  Not my mother.  She instructed my brother and me that our family chants, "MOVE THOSE CHAINS!  MOVE THOSE CHAINS!"  We stood out a little, but around our house, it was appropriate to fall on your sword for good grammar. 

And it rubbed off on me, definitely.  The most romantic thing that happened to me in adolescence was a secret admirer who, for a period of a couple of weeks, covered my '78 powder blue Pontiac Grand Prix with flowers overnight, every night, as it sat in our driveway.  The first morning, when my mother and I dashed out to investigate, we snagged the note that was tucked under the windshield.  It read,

Shannon,

These are for you; I hope you enjoy them. 

E.B.T.

My mother and I, equally giddy, looked at each other and squealed, "HE USED A SEMI-COLON!"

So it should come as no surprise that my sweet Joseph crawled into my lap sniffling last week.  "Mom," he whimpered, "I hurt my toe badly." 

"Oh, sweet boy," I said, rubbing his foot.  "I'm so proud of you for using an adverb."

A Very Good Reason NOT To Take Your One-Year-Old Daughter To a PTA Meeting...

...Because when all eyes in the room are on you because you're giving your presentation, your little daughter (sitting next to you), might choose that time to unzip your purse and pull out a maxi pad and unwrap it and WAVE IT OVER HER HEAD, and just in case anyone missed it, your friend sitting next to you will laugh loudly enough to make sure they all saw it.  And you would be embarrassed.  If that happened to you.  Which I'm not saying it did to me.  Ahem.

And Many More...

Yep, it's my birthday today.  I'm 34.  In exactly 366 days I'll be on the downill slope toward 40.  And you know what?  I love it.  This skin I'm living in gets a little more comfortable every year (probably because it's sagging a little more each year, but anyhoo...). 

I am of the firm belief that a girl shouldn't have to think too hard on her birthday, so today I'm putting the burden on YOU, dear readers.  It just tickles (and surprises) me beyond words that any of you stop by to read this silly blog, and I love receiving your comments and private e-mails, even if I don't always get the chance to respond to each one.  But today, just this once, because-I'm-the-birthday-girl-and-I-said-so, it's The Day of De-Lurking here at Rocks In My Dryer.  Please, step up and leave a comment.  For the heck of it, tell how long you've been reading here and where in the world, generally, you're from. 

Additionally, I thought about asking you to share something interesting about yourself, but I thought might freak out some of you super-private lurkers.  So instead, I want you to share something really dull about yourself.

Really.  That's it.  You can do this.  Here, I'll start:

"Hi, Shannon, my name is Shannon, and I live in the Midwest.  I've been reading this blog from the--duh--beginning.  And I'm almost out of dogfood."

See?  Painless.  And dull.

And if I haven't said it before...thanks for stopping by.

A Hand To Hold

Mommy Dearest alerted me to a worthwhile cause called Operation Special Delivery.  To quote Mommy Dearest,

Operation Special Delivery...provides volunteer doulas for pregnant women whose husbands or partners are deployed in the U.S. armed forces at the time they are due to give birth.

Doulas are trained birth professionals who provide physical and emotional support for women during childbirth. This free service is being offered as a thank you for the service these fathers are providing for our country, which prevents them from attending the birth of their child.

To learn more about this organization, click here.

Thursday Thirteen

THIRTEEN POSTS THAT HAVE MADE ME LAUGH OUT LOUD

1. I'm Posting This, Running From the Computer, and Never Looking Back by BooMama
2. Reasons I Make the Super Nanny Cry #7 by Antique Mommy
3. A Typical Phone Conversation with my Mom by Everyday Mommy
4. Julianna Is At It Again by Michelle (turn up your volume for this one)
5. How Will She Open the Drink Box? by Mopsy
6. She Needs Some Serious Help by Carol (and also She Covereth)
7. So Ladylike by Karen
8. 911--If You Dial It, They Will Come by the Great and Powerful Oz Daring Young Mom
9. Supermom Goes Back to School by Supermom
10. Classy Women by Jeana
11. None of Ethan's Business by HolyMama!
12. The Seedy Underbelly of Blog Addiction by Chilhead
13. Just a Few of Lauren's Favorite "Deep Thoughts" by Lauren

If you're doing Thursday Thirteen at your place, enter your link below!

The Thing About Sleep, Part 2

Well, y'all are just the bee's knees, really.  Thank you for all the encouragement after this post.  Even though it probably didn't sound earth-shattering to you, I was hugely nervous about sharing my sleep struggles.  They've been such an issue with me for so long...I told my husband, after I hit "publish", that I felt like I was standing in the middle of the street in my underwear. 

I want to be sure I represented accurately where I am in this little journey I'm on (based on some of your comments and e-mails, I think I may have unintentionally given the wrong impression).  Right now, I'm not a raging insomniac, up prowling around at all hours.  Ambien works wonderfully for me, and I take it most nights.  Like I said, the dose I take is very small, so I feel like it's fairly safe (though I'm NOT crazy about taking it, still).  I don't know where I'd be without it:  probably a raging insomniac, up prowling around at all hours.

Several of you commented or wrote to me privately about sleep medication, some of you sounding hesitant to try it.  There's not much I'm absolutely certain of, but this one thing is for sure--a good doctor should listen carefully to you if you're suffering from chronic insomnia.  Be sure you rule out physical causes.  I actually did see a sleep specialist once.  He told me I was healthy, just a little neurotic (okay, those weren't his exact words, but that was the gist.  I'm not offended, since I'm quite aware that I am, in fact, a little neurotic).  He recommended this book.  At the time, I was in the throes of anxiety disorder, so it wasn't exactly what I needed.  But it did sound very helpful (the authors seemed to "get" how an insomniac thinks), and when I'm longer a mommy of a toddler I plan to try it.

And also, in case anyone is interested, Ginger pointed me toward some information about Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome.  It may not be a full explanation of what the deal is with us night owls (or is it "we night owls"--now that I've done a grammar post, I'm a little paranoid), but it's worth investigating.

Lastly, Kim left the following comment in my post:

Thought I would mention, too, that in my sleep-deprived, depressed state scriptures about sleep mocked me: "The Lord grants sleep to those He loves..." made me feel very hopeless. I wish I had a better answer for that but just wondered if you had ever had that happen.

Oh yes, Kim, I did.  "Lord," I prayed, "if you grant sleep to those that you love, and you're not granting me sleep, do you love me?"  As only a Father could, He assured me that He did by reminding me that His scripture speaks of seasons for different life events, and new mercies every morning (even for the sleep-deprived, frantic young mom).  He reminded me that David and Job and Samuel and countless others in Scripture faced sleep interuptions when it served His divine purpose.  And He reminded me that if this cannot separate me from His love, then surely a few sleepless nights wouldn't do me in.

Works For Me: Its vs. It's

I'm not a grammar snob, really.  Okay, so maybe I'm just a little bit of a grammar snob.  Teeny tiny.  Just on the big grammar doozies, like your vs. you're and I vs. me and OH-FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-PETE its vs. it's.  I'm sorry, y'all, but it's time for the bloggers of the world to unite and master it/it's.  I see it done incorrectly on blogs all the time, (including, ahem, my own, when I'm proofreading). 

Here's my little trick to help me remember the right way to do it:

Imagine that the little apostrophe is the letter i.  Therefore, when you write it's, you are writing it is.  When you are writing its, you are using the possessive form of the word (as in, "Shannon's blog has reached its highest level of control-freakishness now.") 

Works for me!

For more riveting grammar advice, check out Dr. Grammar. I love this stuff!

If you'd like to share your advice with Blogland, please link below! 

Overheard at Our House

"Broccoli gives me polka dots in my throat." (Joseph)

* * * * * * * *

"I can't sleep because one of my fingers is longer than the other one." (Stephen)

* * * * * * * *

[As the phone was ringing].  "Don't answer it, we'll just let the air conditioner get it." (Adam)

* * * * * * * *

"My blood is gloopy." (Joseph)

* * * * * * * *

[Rubbing forehead and frowning]. "I think I'm getting another science infection." (Stephen)

* * * * * * * *

"I'm so hungry it's like somebody died." (Joseph)

* * * * * * * *

"I love you so much I can't feel my legs." (Joseph)

* * * * * * * *

See you tomorrow for Works-For-Me Wednesday!

The Thing About Sleep

I'm going to step out of the closet and tell you one of my most deeply held neuroses (I say "one of", because there are, in fact, many).  I have some major issues with sleep.  And while I may make light of it sometimes (as part of that laughter-is-the-best-medicine theory), it is, in fact quite serious, at least to me.  Here's the whole story.

I've always been a night owl, even as a child.  I have many memories of lying in my bed as a little girl, terribly anxious over the fact that I couldn't sleep.  I would wake up my mom in the middle of the night and ask her to sit with me while I battled insomnia, and my mother, angel that she is, would do it. 

College, strangely enough, was the only time in my life since puberty that I remember feeling rested.  That season of life is perfectly suited for staying up until 2 or 3, and sleeping until 10 or 11 for carefully scheduled afternoon classes.  It was heavenly.

Shortly after I was married, I began taking melatonin each night, a commonly used (and safe) sleep aid.  I took it every single night.  I had pretty good success with it and was finding my sleep beginning to normalize.  Until, of course, that Great Disturber Of All Reasonable Sleeping Patterns....motherhood.

I don't suppose I really noticed the sleep disruptions that much during the early years of motherhood.  I was so generally exhausted that it was hard to tell if my problems were caused by insomnia, or by the demands of my kids.  Certainly the mommish tendency to leap out of bed at the slightest sigh from a child is NOT helpful to an insomniac.  But when I heard my friends talk about how they "fell into bed exhausted at the end of the day", or were "asleep before their head hit the pillow"...well, I've never been able to relate to that.  Sleep has never come easily to me, no matter how tired I might be.

Fast-forward a few years. 

I've shared before my battle with severe anxiety and depression.  What I did not share, in the interest of brevity before, was that that particular episode was "launched" by an extreme episode of insomnia.  At one point, I went 48 hours without sleeping.  My doctor prescribed Ambien, and it worked, but I was so afraid of becoming hooked I didn't allow myself to depend too much on it.  Within days of the onset of the insomnia, the bottom dropped out, and my battle with anxiety was on.

Now, my head knows that most likely, the insomnia was simply the first major symptom of a much larger problem.  The insomnia did not cause the panic attacks, they simply were the first in a long string of symptoms that let me know I had some major issues going on in my body. My heart isn't so sure.  For now (and maybe forever?) the "discomfort" of not being able to fall asleep always triggers in me that instantaneous panicky thought: is it starting again?  It's an irrational thought, but there it is.

Nowadays, the extreme insomnia from those hard days is gone.  Left behind is the "typical" insomnia that often plagues night owls like me.  But because of my strange history with my sleep battles, what would be a simple speed bump to others is a massive road block to me.  As a result, I will do whatever it takes to avoid feeling that oh-no-I-can't-sleep feeling.  I take Ambien in very small doses, but I take it often.  Very, very often.  This bugs me, even though my doctor has assured me that the small dosage I take is not physically addictive.  It's certainly psychologically addictive. 

Add to that my tendency to stay up very late--I guess I figure if I wear myself out I'm less likely to be unable to sleep, and you have the recipe for one very tired momma in the mornings.  Even my kids notice it.  In fact, what prompted me to write this post is a conversation with my seven year old yesterday; he told me I "look droopy" in the mornings.  Last night at bedtime he prayed, "God, please Mom go to bed early so tomorrow she won't look like she normally does in the morning."  (Let's ignore the insult in that and just move forward with the sweet part, okay?) 

I don't even really know why I'm telling you all this.  My tendency is to think I need to wait to post about something until I have it all figured out, so I can seem all wise and profound.  The truth is that  I'm smack in the middle of this.  Hello, my name is Shannon and I don't sleep well.  I take too much sleeping medication.  And I stay up too late. There, I said it.

I think it's very likely that the issue of sleep will be a thorn in my side the rest of my life--a nightly reminder of how much I need to depend on God for even the most basic of life functions.  I've spent quite a bit of time discussing it with Him, and reading what He has to say about it in His book (see here, and here, and here, and here, among others).  He and I will sort it out one day, of that I'm certain.  And I'm sure the lesson in it will be yet another example of His teaching me to stop trying so hard.  To be still.  To rest.

To sleep.

Brotherly Love

(A translation, should you need it:  Keep out if you are a brother in my family you got to get out yo!! or I'll knock your tooth out.  So you better get out of my ROOM!!)

If he's going to threaten his brothers, at least he had the good sense to do it with neat handwriting.

Bless Your Hearts

I had to share what my dad sent to me in an e-mail.  I wish I could take credit for writing it!  To those of you born southerners, you'll know exactly what all this means.

Only a Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is, as in: "Going to town, be back directly."

Even Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table.

All Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is.  They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.

Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a neighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad.  If the neighbor's trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin!

Only Southerners grow up knowing the difference between "right near" and "a right far piece."  They also know that "just down the road" can be 1 mile or 20.

Only a Southerner both knows and understands the difference between a redneck, a good ol' boy, and po' white trash.

No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.

A Southerner knows that "fixin" can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adverb.

Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines ... and when we're in line we talk to everybody!

Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they're related, even if only by marriage.

In the South, “y’all” is singular....“all y’all” is plural.

Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.

Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.

When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin'," you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!

And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say "Bless her heart"... and go your own way.

And to those of you who are still having a hard time understanding all this Southern stuff ... bless your hearts, I hear they are fixin' to have classes on Southernness as a second language!

And for those who are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, all y’all need a sign to hang on y’all’s front porch that reads "I ain't from the South, but I got here as fast as I could."

 

(Back to Shannon here)...Let me just add one more.  If you know who the woman in this picture above is; if you have read and watched her life story numerous times; if you can quote the "As God Is My Witness" speech with perfect voice inflection...then you, my friend, are a true Southerner. 

Write On

A couple of my blogging friends have been discussing the topic of blogging vs. writing, or blogging AS writing, or blogging instead of writing, etc.--and they've raised some interesting questions.  BooMama asks

...is blogging, for you, a means to an end? Is it a way to get exposure as a "for real" writer and ultimately get published? Can you be a "for real" writer if blogging is all that you do? In other words: is blogging in and of itself enough for you? Would you be disappointed if, say, three or four years down the road, your blog is functioning just as it is right now?

Heather at One Woman's World is investigating a theory that

...almost every blogger out there has a book in the works. By “in the works” I mean anything from a wild, momentary idea, to “the book’s in final editing.”

No, I do not consider myself a writer.  I'm more of a "putter-together of words".  Perhaps I'm hung up on the notion that Real Writers actually receive--gasp!--money for their work.  I don't, I never have, and I don't seriously expect that I ever will.  (Though I did write for my college newspaper and receive $10 for each article I wrote.  I thought that was huge.  What can I say, I was in college...ten dollars buys a lot of Taco Bell).

Yet I carry with me the words of my most-loved English teacher in high school.  I adored her.  My senior year, when she returned a paper I had written, she had scrawled the words on the back:  Shannon, you will be a writer.  My feet didn't touch the ground for a week.  I was convinced, at that stage of my life, I would leave Small Town America behind forever, pack up for NYC, have a charming little apartment, work for the New York Times and [insert swelling of violins here] CHANGE THE WORLD.  (I believe marrying John F. Kennedy, Jr. figured into that little fantasy as well).  The world was my blank slate, and I just knew I would fill it up with words.  The kind of words you get paid for.

But here I sit, in my mid-thirties--my computer keyboard half-buried under the latest PTA project and the Great American Novel buried in the deepest recesses of my brain, under next week's grocery list and questions for the pediatrician.  And you know what?  I'm perfectly happy with that.  My 19-year-old self would have been mortified to know that my future writing would consist almost entirely of stories about mini-vans and stomach viruses and poop.  And that I wouldn't receive a dime for it.  Yet, to answer BooMama's question, it IS enough for me.  I guess there really is something to the advice of Epictetus, the Greek philosopher:  "If you wish to be a writer, write."

 Why, thank you, I believe I will...

To My Little Boy, On Your First Day Of Kindergarten

My Sweet Boy,

Everything about you looked so big to me this morning.  Those hands that used to barely fit around my finger nearly filled my entire hand as we walked down the hall.  Those shoulders that used to hunch up against my chest seemed so broad as you proudly carried your new backpack.  And those sweet brown eyes that used to spend hours scrunched in colicky anguish were round and bright and full of anticipation at what awaits you. 

You had only a brief moment of hesitation before you ventured into your classroom.  I saw the momentary uncertainty flash in your eyes as you let go of my hand.  But I reached down and kissed your cheek, and I told you I'd stand out in the hall for a minute or two if you needed me.  "I'll be right here," I whispered.   That was all you needed--you bounded forward with confidence, never looking back. 

This is as it should be.  Your eyes should be ahead--watchful, ready to learn, eager to take in all life will bring you.  My eyes are looking ahead too, realizing that this big step of independence you took this morning will be followed by many.  Lost teeth, too-short jeans, a deeper voice and first dates...each bold step will take a you a step further toward manhood, and further away from me.

And with bittersweet joy in my heart, I tell you, my boy:  Go.  Step into each new life experience with the same eager expectation I saw on your face this morning.  I trust the One who made you to steer you just where He would have you go.   I can't wait to see the man He will shape you into.   

But when the adventure gets bumpy, whether it's a skinned knee in kindergarten, a bruised ego in 5th grade or a broken heart in college, just point yourself toward home.  I'll be right here.