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My idea of fun…

As I pulled the covers back to get into bed tonight, I saw my bag of candied licorice, or as I’d like to look at it with beams of glow and call it, my little pieces of heaven. Ha-ha! It must not take much to please me, you might be thinking. No and yes. Remember what it was like when we were little? Yeah, I have a hard time, too. But do you ever think back to sliding boards? The thrill of slipping down and almost gliding off the whole thing into the worn ground below it? With the thought of a bruised back from the end of it? I just went down one with my daughter and trust me, not the same feeling. Maybe because I bumped down more  than slid? Had a child between my legs? It was probably all the above. Put into the equation that when we did it a lot younger, we allowed ourselves to feel the thrill…we lived in the moment. Heck, it probably was because we were a lot smaller and able to fly down the thing. But what we weren’t doing was asking ourselves what we were going to cook for dinner, did the kids have clean clothes to wear the next day…these thoughts weren’t plaguing us. So when was the last time you had fun? Me, you ask? Today around noon. I snuck into my room, got back into bed with my new bag of candy, ate it until I got sick, then fell asleep for 30 glorious minutes. Thirty, I say!! And I didn’t have to worry about a kid, worry about being late, worry about anything. Of course my kids began to wonder about my whereabouts and came in search. Nothing like seeing your mother in bed during the day, huh? “Are you sick” they asked. Nope. Just living the dream! LOL

We need to do more things that make us happy. Find things to make us happy. Life is short. We hear that all the time. But indeed it is. You never know when your number is up. Go to bed with a bag of candy, open a book or watch that movie. Just for the fun of it. Make it happen. Put someone in charge of the children first, of course. Then just savor the feeling. It’s over in a flash, but it sure feels good while it lasts. And do it frequently. I told my overworked son this weekend not to sweat the small stuff. He said he was young, it’s all the big stuff! And I guess to him it is. He hasn’t seen the rapidness of life moving quickly by. But it does.

It’s blasted hot here. I could use some cooler weather. But not too cool. I enjoy no layers right now. My poor flowers are gasping for water. And outrunning the hot weather with no air condition in my car is becoming a pipe dream. I thought I’d put off the thousand dollar repair with autumn on my heels. Not so. I’m still sweating like a pig from my driveway to my destination. Turn the sun down, someone!

Tomorrow is the beginning of the week. I shall choose to make it a good one. No matter what. And if the going gets tough, I’ve got candy!

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To Keep, or Not to Keep

hoarde.1Today is a lazy Sunday. You would think I would take this time to write. I did stay in bed an extra hour, plotting about Amy. But no. I did not write. Perhaps I’ll blog about that issue at a later time.

Today I began sorting through some things. Pictures, clothing, and toys to name a few. Toys that are keepsakes include Woody, Buzz Lightyear, and Jesse. And don’t get me started on doll babies. My daughter never took to them, or as she calls them, “creepy things that their eyes follow you around the room.” That’s okay; I can keep them. And so comes the question of hoarding memories. Perfectly cute dolls will not get tossed out. Case closed on that one. Someone could play with them. It could happen.

As for the mounds of picture frames. Yeah, I remember every time my baby turned a different month, off to the photographer I’d go. And home with 20 pictures to frame, I came. Oh, did I mention every time someone close in the family gave me picture, I’d buy an 8 x 10 frame and up that would go, too? Ahh…I have so many enormous frames, it’s ridiculous. Of course, after the third child, you kind of stopped going to the photographer. I was lucky if I took out my own camera more than three times a year. My fifth child just goes through the pictures only hoping to see himself in one of them. Poor guy. So I solved the picture hoarding with stripping the frames and putting the pictures in an album. Or at least I will when I get some at the store. Note to self: pick up at least ten albums. Large ones.

Now for the clothing. I know what you’re thinking: clothing? Don’t you remember precious little outfits you’d dress your child in and want to keep it forever? So I was putting my memory pile together and it began getting really large. As in, “Honey, we need another 3 x-large totes at the store when you pick up the ten albums.”

No, I know they’ll never wear these items again. But I can remember when they did. And do I want another child bustling about in these archives? Granted, some are out of style, but some are classic. Like my little boy’s (okay, so he’s 18 years old) jacket from the “Cars” movie. He wore that everywhere. And a little red robe that my other boy wore (all right, so he’s 16). You never caught him without that thing on. It was like he was a little Hugh Hefner in that thing. Always. Had. It. On.

Where do I stop keeping things? I feel ashamed for tying these items of clothing up for no one else to ever wear. But really… I just need to know they’re there…in the stacked totes should I ever want to recall the memories. Should they ever get married, settle down, and ask where that little pink dress with the daisy on the front is. Am I a hoarder? Does anyone else do this? Feel free to chime in. No, really…. 🙂