Tag Archives: self-realization

My life would be easier if . . .

28 Jul

. . . Peter knew his head extended above his eyes.

. . . Simeon didn’t drink my coffee.  Or Jerry’s.

. . . Abers looked less cute when he admitted to washing my cell phone, locking Jerry out of the house, stabbing his baby brother in the eye with an action figures’ sword, spraying room freshener in our bedroom, and tying knots in my necklaces.   All in the past 24 hours.

. . . Mo Willems wrote a new book every day.

. . . marbles had never been invented.

. . . the Bible were in alphabetical order.

. . . my sister lived next door.

. . . Thomas had never heard either the Grand Rapids Lip Dub or Weird Al.

. . . all seven of the people in this house wore exactly the same socks.

Welcome to our extremely humble abode.

. . . our boys had never learned to use scissors and tape.

. . . our boys had never shown an interest in Interior Decorating.

. . . if I could blog in the shower.  Don’t worry, that technology seems a ways off.  Although, maybe that’s what Abe was working on with my phone.

Lessons from Angry Birds

19 Jul

This is a confession. I might be guilty of overplaying Angry Birds. Might. I might have been congratulated by the game on over 30 hours played. That might have been over a month ago. I might not have yet stopped playing. I’m afraid that I might even have Angry Birds induced carpel-tunnel. I accept this. I own this. So I’ve decided to use it to teach my oldest a lesson in tenacity. Good idea, right? Lemons, lemonade, that whole thing…

How? First, some background. For those of you who have never stepped into Angry Bird land I will explain the game. One takes a bird (an angry one) and slingshots it at pigs (green ones) in retaliation for some attack that the pigs have launched against the birds’ eggs. I think. To be honest, I’ve never really locked into the story line. Anywho, in order to defeat these verdant porkers one must destroy whatever housing, scaffolding, or protection normally offered to swine such as these. The birds sacrifice themselves in this retaliatory act. How selfless. As all of the pigs in a given level are exterminated one is rewarded a score and stars based upon their completeness of destruction. 1,2, or 3 stars are available. Obviously 3 is the best. And this is where the lesson begins:

 As I stated before, I play a lot. I’ve “beaten” the game. BUT, not with 3 star scores. I’ve just skated through, accepted the bare minimum in effort, let mediocrity reign. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Once again I will resist the urge to say anything that might offend, but suffice it to say I will not be buying myself a trophy just to reward completion of a task. (As I was asked to do to celebrate my son’s 2 month t-ball stint! Imagine…)  Owen’s been watching my progress like a hawk (an angry one). See, I’ve gone back to the beginning of the game and am replaying every level in search of 3 stars. I’m doing this for my son. Do you see? See the lesson he’s getting from this? It’s all about stick-to-it-iveness, self improvement, hard work, tenacity, you know.

It’s not at all about how much I love to knock things down and blow things up…..


6 Jul

Here are some weird things I’ve heard people say, believe, and claim. At least they’re weird to me. I’d like your take, as well. I will try to be discreet in my identification of these people, as I don’t want to throw anyone under the weird bus.

“Chocolate and Coffee come from the same plant.” – (discretely pointing my finger at my husband)

This is just wild misinformation,  folks. However, this fallacy has been a truth in his brain for as long as I’ve known the poor darling. I’m happy to report that it was finally rectified last week when two elderly zoo docents set my fellow straight.  Whew.


“Plaid is my favorite color.” – (discreetly pointing my finger to my sister’s blog gravitar)

Weird, right? I mean, weird. Plaid? Really? This may be untrue as of late. I’m going to make the bold assumption that her new favorite color is Oatmeal/Spitup/Crayola Camouflage. I love that color, too.


“Once again Immunity is back up for grabs.” – (discreetly pointing my finger at my friend Jeff Probst)

Redundant much, Jeff??? C’mon. I blame the producers for his grammatical foibles.


“Boy, that baby has a lot of hair. You must’ve had some horrible heartburn when you were pregnant.” (manically pointing to the lady at Walmart rubbing my son’s head)

Okay, I know that some of you have heard this one as I was recently informed of its wive’s tale status. I’ve had four red, hairy babies (who, if I didn’t know better, could certainly be the offspring of Esau) and this is the first I’ve heard of it. Based upon this one I have to assume that my sister was faking her supposed debilitating, prescription-needing heartburn. Her babies all sported just the right amount of peach fuzz. And peaches, my friends, do NOT cause heartburn. They’re a gentle fruit.


“I eat my peas with honey/ I’ve done it all my life/ It makes the peas taste funny/ But it keeps them on my knife”  – Dad (no use being discreet here)

I know many of you have probably heard this dandy number. Charming, right? I don’t mean to give credit to the wrong guy. I know this isn’t freshly squeezed from my father’s mind grapes. (Anyone get the reference??) It is, however, just a snippet of the many quips, quotes, and puns that this man can spout out at the drop of a pea. (Ask me for his clever original riddles sometime. You’ll be impressed.). Why is this on my weird list? Well, spend a meal with Dad and you’ll get it.


I’ll stop here, friends. I’ve realized in racking my brain for things that I think are weird that I may step on a toe or two and that just won’t do. (I was a poet and didn’t know-it. Ha!) What do I want from you? Your weird things. Please. Let me giggle at with you. And remember, I trust your judgement. Now, wile me with your weirdness.