***Caution. If you have a weak constitution, do not read. There are pictures.***
Yes, it appears that I have a homicidal mandolin slicer. It hides in the drawers where the measuring cups and spoons reside. Or it did because my son was told to put it there by his dad. *sigh* It lies in wait for someone to be in hurry, and, in a fit of frustration because of a stuck drawer, reach in to grab a measuring cup. It struck so fast that the only reaction I had was to put my finger in my mouth. (Don’t say “ew”. We’ve all done that.) Yes, a colorful word was said, and husband asked if I was alright. This was a question that he answered himself when he saw me walk through the livingroom with the same finger still in my mouth.
Does it hurt? Only when I bang it. Otherwise, it feels like an annoying paper-cut. I am learning how to do many things with the tip of the bandaid or nine fingers. This has slowed down my typing, because I have to go back and correct an oops. Oh well, we live and learn. The slicer? It has a new home now. I am not taking any chances for it to hide in a dark space, and attack another hapless victim, here at least. Until next time, God bless…
I have been thinking about my feelings for Paul’s birth father. Seeing him again brought back all the memories we made together in the short time that I was living with him. I will admit that I do love him, but my soul, spirit, and devotional love is with my husband, Mark. God has blessed me with a man who will not look another, loves me and shows it on a daily basis, and is always there for me, no matter what. It hasn’t been the easiest 12 years, but anything worth having is worth working for, and being in a marriage for twelve years has, sadly enough, even surprised my mother. She has always seen me as a quitter. Not the best encouragement, I know, but she has always made it clear to me that, when I start something, she is always waiting for me to quit.
I will explain. All of you who read this blog on a daily basis know that I have been bullied at school. I was made fun of and verbally bullied when I was in Girl Scouts as well (Yes, I was a girl Scout.). I left them, and didn’t look back because I didn’t need two places where I would go to be ridiculed. I was in band in elementary school, and lost interest. I believe that, during your life, you will try many things to see where niche is, and until you find the things that you love, you will have a lot of starts and stops. This doesn’t make me a quitter, at least not in my opinion. Alas, my mom never sees that way. It is sad when you come to the realization that, no matter what you do, it will never please your mother simply because it is not what she wanted you to do. Have any of you this problem?
At the computer once again pouring my thoughts onto a virtual page. I don’t do this as often as I feel I should, but the mood to type something does not strike me as often as most others, I guess.
The past couple of weeks with Paul’s birth father back in his life have been productive ones. It seems that I can begin to hope again that my son will find his path in life and travel it to his own happy ending. This is good, but I still have reservations. As much as I want to be happy for him and put faith in the fact that this time will be different, I am afraid. I have done it so many times in the past that I now have a scar on my heart from disappointment and sadness. Yes, I know, as a parent, I must continue to have hope that he will be a productive member of society, but I am in a constant “wait and see” mode. Letting my heart hope for the best and letting it have faith once again, scares me. My son, though I love him dearly and would do anything for him, has hurt me more times than he knows. It has been a long hard road with him. My heart aches. I want so badly to see him succeed.
Some may think it very premature to put faith in his birth father and that side of his family, but I feel it is the right course. I am always looking to do the best for my son, and I feel that this is the best. After all, it seems to be having a positive impact, and despite a few critics, I am happy to have back-up when it comes to my son.
My parents are another story entirely. They feel it is a very bad idea. They still carry grudges and animosity toward Buddy (Paul’s birth father). I hope that one day they can finally find it in their hearts to see that what I am doing is the best for Paul, and that people do change for the better. I understand their position, but I don’t see how one can walk through life carrying the poison of hatred and animosity. Grudges can be a terrible burden. I will pray that their hearts can opened, and they can see the situation for the positive influence that it can be.
(Please, keep in mind that, even though I have posted in the past things about my past, they have always been short and relevant to the main part of the post.)
After twenty years of looking and one week of talking online and on the phone, Paul, my son, got to meet his birth father. He loved the experience and they both got along very well. He also got to meet one of his uncles as well, from that side of the family. We were both a little nervous as to what would happen, but it all went very well, and I am very glad. We spent all day and part of the night there, and talked about all sorts of things, joked, and picked on one another. I realized how much of his father’s side of the family he really had in him, and was glad that I survived raising him, thus far. lol
I am sitting at work with lounge music playing in my ear. Earlier this week, I scheduled my first blog radio spot. Now, I am trying to come up with enough material for the subject matter to fill 15-30 minutes. I am able to take calls, but something tells me that I may not have any callers.
The subject is how to listen to what your body is telling you. Some may be interested, but I don’t know if I will have enough to talk about. Can you tell I’m nervous? Scared witless would be the term, I guess. I have NEVER done anything like this before. Okay, if open air herbal workshops count, than I have, but never a radio show.
As for the pessimism about callers, I have tried to do online chats, online classes, and in-house classes, and I didn’t even get a nibble. I might be too stubborn to give up. We shall see…