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Mother Daze


Tales from the Imperfect Playground

Throughout her stories of misplaced toys, temper tantrums, and experiences as a physical education teacher, Christine offers observations that will ring true with all mothers. In short, this book offers a virtual high five to women for the gazillion things they manage to miraculously get done.


Summer Fun.

I must apologize to my super-sweet readers for the few and far between posts. However, summer is just too darn fun!  Being a teacher, I fully embrace the concept of "summer mode" -- I finally went grocery shopping for the first time in two weeks.  I don't know what my family has been eating, but my belly sure shows signs that I haven't been missing any meals.  Ugh!  I have read a few books -- Promises to Keep, The Last Time I Saw You, Broken, and Dune Road.  My kids and I have hit the beach many times --- my dermatologist would not be amused with the darker shade of my skin tone.   My family and I have a camping adventure planned with some wonderful friends -- should prove to be a total blast.  Don't be fooled though, last year was our maiden voyage as campers.  Although I would prefer a comfy, cozy hotel room, the experience of pitching a tent in the middle of the forest was one certainly to be remembered.  Not to mention the endless supply of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars -- enough s'mores to feed an entire football team.

As the sunshine continues to spread its magic and the mosquitoes  manage to master their annoyance, try to think of yourself as that little kid enjoying every second of summer fun. 



How to Measure Success

Check this out.  My tip made the number nine spot.

9. How To Measure Success

Success to me is not measured in dollars. The real measure of success comes from within. Not the physical attributes but rather how one sees their soul. Have you sprinkled joy? Are you grateful? Do you take the time to apologize? Can people trust you? Do you laugh everyday? Do you welcome & accept constructive criticism?
If you are comfortable with your replies, you have the necessary tools to be successful. True success can’t be bought or bottled - it's earned.
Thanks to: Christine Carr of Mother Daze (author).

There are some really helpful tips included in this list.



Funny Message

This was a recent forwarded e-mail that I received:

Why Are We Here?

So we were lying on our backs on the grass in the park next to our hamburger wrappers, my 14-year-old son and I, watching the clouds loiter overhead, when he asked me, "Dad, why are we here?"  And this is what I said: "I've thought a lot about it, son, and I don't think it's all that complicated. I think maybe we're here just to teach a kid how to bunt or eat sunflower seeds without using his hands.

"We're here to pound the steering wheel and scream as we listen to the game on the radio, 20 minutes after we pulled into the garage. We're here to look all over, give up, and then find the ball in the hole.

"We're here to wear our favorite sweat-soaked Boston Red Sox cap, torn Slippery Rock sweatshirt, and the Converse sneakers we lettered in on a Saturday morning with nowhere we have to go and no one special we have to be.  "We're here to tie the perfect fly, make the perfect cast, catch absolutely nothing, and still call it a perfect morning.

"We're here to nail a yield sign with an apple core from half a block away. We're here to win the stuffed bear or go broke trying.  "I don't think the meaning of life is gnashing our bicuspids over what comes after death but tasting all the tiny moments that come before it. We're here to be there when our kid has three goals and an assist. And especially when he doesn't.

"I don't think we're here to make SportsCenter. The really good stuff never does. Like finding ourselves with a free afternoon, a little red 327 fuel-injected 1962 Corvette convertible, and an unopened map of Vermont's backroads.

"None of us will find ourselves on our deathbeds saying, 'I wish I'd spent more time on the Hibbings account.' We're going to say, 'That scar? I got that scar stealing a home run from Consolidated Plumbers!'

"See, grown-ups spend so much time doggedly slaving toward the better car, the perfect house, the big day that will finally make them happy, when happy just walked by wearing a bicycle helmet two sizes too big for him. We're not here to find a way to heaven. The way is heaven.

"Does that answer your question, son?"

And he said, "Not really, Dad."

And I said, "No?"

And he said, "No, what I meant is, why are we here when Mom said to pick her up 40 minutes ago?"



Happy Hour

One of my favorite images associated with college life were those Happy Hours spent at an outdoor venue soaking up the end of the semester springtime sunshine.  The feel of a seventy degree day blanketing my body while drinking a very cold beverage with friends is a pleasing memory.  Although my college years ended back in 1993 -- Zoinks! -- I can still appreciate a good time.

Yesterday, a few friends were planning to come over for some Friday afternoon fun with their children.  With twelve children between us all, that doesn't always allow for a "relaxing" environment, yet I was hopeful.  Luckily, the sun poked through the clouds at about 3:00pm and granted us a pleasant temperature to immerse ourselves into.  As the car loads arrived, the noise level increased but with a swift pour of the old Cuervo Gold added to a glass full of Newman's Own Limeade -- each mom smiled a little bit brighter and the weeks worth of aggravations and annoyances drifted slowly away from our thoughts.

As the kids corralled every bike, scooter, skateboard, baseball bat, ball, and other treasure from the garage, the four of us (plus one husband) pulled up our lawn chairs and sat back to enjoy.  Obviously, there were the inevitable bumps and bangs, a few tears here and there, but considering the number of children in the mix, they really were having a blast.   And so were their parents.  To sit in the sunshine amongst a group of good gals (and one good guy... Ha!) enjoying a couple of tasty adult cold beverages was just what we deserved on this wonderful weekend.  Happy Hour lives -- even if it is right in your own back yard.  We didn't need a fancy restaurant or a crowd of twenty-somethings to make our night fun, the enjoyment came from the simple gift of time spent with nice friends  ... oh yea, and of course our friend Jose Cuervo and his brother Bud Light.

So, to all of my sweet reader friends, I encourage each of you to tap into your own Happy Hour concept, soak up some sunshine, and enjoy those smiles.  Peace.

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