Oh my goodness. The kite thing. Never did I think I would find someone else who shared this idiotic phobia with me. That someone else is my daughter.
I watched her face as her new Hello Kitty kite began to take flight, lifted by a rare gentle Kansas breeze. As it began to ascend, her brow furrowed, and a panicked look replaced her smile.
“I don’t want it to go too high mommy.”
I knew that look. And I knew that feeling. “Is it because it makes you nervous when it starts going up real high?”
She shook her head up and down, and I reassured her, “I know exactly how you feel.”
This didn’t seem to surprise her at all. After all, I get her. Just like my dad got me. She has no idea how precious this bond …
I loved this moment. Ria goes all in, and An is forced to join her. And she’s better off for it.
Scrolling through my Facebook feed this morning, I came across a video several friends had shared. They used words like “awesome, cute and joyful” to describe it, with no warning that it would make me cry fat, rolling-down-cheek tears. But how could they have known? Rarely do I know when something will stick me between the ribs, grasp my heart and force me to pay attention to some God-ordained message. This morning, sitting in my rectangular living room at the edge of my rectangular state, I was opened up wide, my tightly-secured gates blown from the hinges. And out they ran. My white-eyed wild emotions, penned up for too long.
I’ve been very open in …
This coffee cup (a favorite gift from my husband) pretty much says it all.
God rest my father’s soul. He always told me he would disown me if I ever drank decaf coffee, had a fake Christmas tree, or drank Dr. Pepper. (He said it was for “liberal college weenies.”) He was totally kidding (except maybe not about the Christmas tree), but I have to admit I felt disloyal to my family when I decided to quit my caffeine habit a month ago. When my family gets together (on both father and mother’s side), there’s a steady stream of coffee to be found nearby (and beer if you’re with the right crowd). But my health has been dismal for the past six months, and I was desperate to try nearly…anything.
My anxiety was derailing my already …
“Thwack!!”
My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sound. Had something hit the window? A bird, maybe? No, not a bird. A mirror. The driver’s side mirror to be exact. It had popped loose from its frame and had swung by its wire up to the window, giving it a loud smack. Thump. Thump. Thump. It bounced off the door as I rattled down the washboard road. I could hear my oldest daughter’s voice, although she wasn’t in the truck with me yet. “Mom, someone needs to fix this road!” They sure did. But it still served its purpose. Busted, not broken. Unlike the mirror, which hung like a eyeball from a socket, unable to see. But it wasn’t the bumpy road that caused the mirror to come loose. It was a …
You’ve probably seen it circulating online. The love letter Brad Pitt supposedly wrote his wife, Angelina Jolie when they were on the brink of divorce. Scores of people (mostly women) have shared it on Facebook and Twitter, often with the comment, “This is so sweet!” Here’s a snippet of the letter, which can be found in its entirety here.
You won’t believe it, but she blossomed. She became even better than before. She gained weight, was no longer nervous and she loved me even more than ever. I had no clue that she CAN love that much. And then I realized one thing: The woman is the reflection of her man. If you love her to the point of madness, she will become it.
Okay, first of all, it’s a total load …
These are NOT my actual boobs. 🙂 (Image from sampan.org)
Dear boobies,
You’ve been pushed up, you’ve been squashed down, you’ve been covered up, you’ve been uncovered, you’ve been groped, you’ve been suckled, you’ve been infected, you’ve been engorged, you’ve been bumped, you’ve been bruised, you’ve been caressed, you’ve been dismissed, and most recently, you’ve been compressed. In a mammogram’s vice grip. And you came through for me. I’ve always thought you to be nothing spectacular. Small, unvoluminous, unvoluptuous, unimpressive. But I was wrong. You are wonderful. You are healthy.
And I’m sorry for all the times I abused you. Tried to make you something you weren’t. Shoved you into underwire and foam padding and pretended you were…more. You are enough. You are beautiful. You are marvelous. You deserve respect and tenderness and to be allowed to …