Everyday, on the way to work, I hear one of the local radio stations’ contest on “What’s the measure of a man?” It strikes me funny that this contest would be run just before Mother’s Day but the newest song/album that the contest is circulating around ISN’T called the “measure of a woman.” Although MY MAN can’t enjoy the prize of a private concert with Jack Ingram and Taylor Swift (nor would he have wanted to), I provided an entry just the same. I know that I will enjoy the concert if I win the random drawing.
Archives for May 2007
alone time granted
Everyone asks me, “How are the boys?” It is so hard to tell for sure. I say that they are okay “for the most part” but who really knows. I know that I have good days and bad days. I expect that the same is with them.
The emotions are certainly intensified in our home these days. The frustration, sadness, and anger come on ten-fold. What’s a Mom to do? It’s hard to know exactly.
YaYa and I came home from the baseball game to find BoBo in the front shooting baskets. It seemed normal enough, but something wasn’t right.
Very non-challantly, he asked me for something to which I said “no.” This wasn’t what he wanted to hear but I figured that he shouldn’t be too surprised. But it *was* a big deal, or at least turned into one. I didn’t occur to me that it was something bigger until he disappeared out the front door.
Census time
I was thinking about this on today’s run:
In the past couple of days I have been at a loss for words. As much as I may inspire you, you also inspire me – to write. I write my posts and then wait for the comments to roll in.
But lately, even though my site is being visited, I haven’t been receiving many comments. My stat counter shows 112 visits yesterday, and 55 readers already today. So either, my visitors got to my site by accident OR it is possible that what I have had to say wasn’t worth a comment.
Lurkers, or rather those of you who read but *never* comment, I am taking a census. I am giving you permission to write on my bathroom wall (so to speak). Basically, I am saying that it is okay to just say, “I was here” and give your name. If you’d like, you can even tell me what sort of posts you like best, what you don’t like, or how you found me.
Step out of the shadows and be counted. After all, you’re being counted by my stat counter (somewhat) anyways.
Into chaos
I enter my office to impeccable order. Everything has a place. Somewhere between then, and the time where I grab my purse to leave, papers get strewn about, cups and empty Gladware gather on my desk, and order transforms into chaos.
Then…it is time to clean up and go home.
In the dark of the night
In the dark of the night,
I could swear the sunlight was shining.
Too early for the sun
and too late for my mind
to be so active.
Too many thoughts of importance haunting me.
I lie there
Inspecting my bare ceiling and walls.
Listening to my children
Lying still in their beds
Quietly snoring.
My nose is stuffy,
and my throat is sore.
I am fighting against the passing of time
for a few hours of deep sleep.
The alarm jolts me out of bed
when morning hits.
I clutch the respite of my flattened pillow
in a feeble attempt to preserve the quiet
that my brain has finally created.