There it was, yet another envelope sitting like a bloated paper pulp pile on our counter. It was the third wedding invitation for the month of June that we have received.
In 2014, the Hubs and I embarked on a journey – to become parents. We decided to go through certification to become foster parents through what can be best described as an obstacle course from hell.
It’s the week leading up to the Easter celebration. For Christians everywhere, it is our largest celebration – the resurrection of God’s son. For everyone else, it is the second largest holiday for the consumption of chocolate and an excuse to stuff our faces with baked ham and deviled eggs.
Last Friday was one of our semi-annual events for the Ohio District of Kiwanis. I had the tubs of registration materials, merchandise, recognitions and workshop materials all packed up and ready to be loaded into vehicles like they were pieces of a conference style game of Jenga.
This week is a busy one in our little house. Sparky celebrated his second birthday, and a couple days later, we celebrated two years of having him in our lives. We creep forward with adoption proceedings; all things considering, life is pretty good.
I have a friend who several times a week sends me a reminder of how many days there are until Christmas. She has been doing this since December 27. She laughs when I suggest she might want to check into medication regarding that sort of obsession.
Thanksgiving. The day that diets are blown to bits and families, however they are defined, gather together for the day. A lot of things change, however, Thanksgiving is the one holiday which is more about family and traditions than any other, at least in my opinion.
I breathed a sigh of relief too soon. The morning after election day, I thought, no more robo-calls. No more emails, no more junk mail. Life can get back to what is typically peaceful if not chaotic. Except….
Sometimes, life is just not fair. Nothing drives that sentiment home harder than an email we received last week. It was a plea for assistance for a family in our community, another family who had opened their home and hearts to children “in the system”. This couple had been fostering kids fo…
I am certain, after the events of the last couple of weeks, that I am not the only person who has been saying (or thinking) “what the heck?” after hearing the evening news. It seems like the whole world has gone insane and there is so much anger and hatred everywhere we turn.
It happens to every parent. Their kid becomes obsessed with some stupid song or program and the music is replayed a billion times a day, causing a semi-permanent eye twitch to the adult who is forced to listen to whatever drivel is being repeated. Interestingly enough, the music starts out a…
Ahhhh, Pumpkin Show. The one week when our sleepy little town’s population explodes, and we are over run by all things – pumpkin. I’m not even going to bother to share my dislike of this boring vegetable at the risk of being pumpkin pie’d as I walk down Court Street this week.
One of the facts of being a foster parent is the need for continuing education classes. It doesn’t matter if the classes are not particularly helpful to you – you need to rack up 40 hours. Occasionally, you come across one that makes you really sit up and take notice. Last week, I took a cou…
“Dear God, bless this child, because he is about to drive me out of my mind. Amen”. That has been my mantra for about two weeks now. Sparky has reached a new level of some sort of developmental stage as he approaches the terrible twos. I think it is just his little brain seeing what all he c…
It has been a gloomy week. When the alarm sounds at 5:00 a.m., I have wanted nothing more than to pull the blanket over my head and go back to sleep. Adding to the gloom is the fact this is my boss’s last week. After 20 years of working together, he is retiring. I think it sucks.
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I walk through the door and there is no cheerful barking or yipping. There is no little butt sticking up in the air waiving it’s tail so ferociously, you half-way expect lift-off to be achieved. The lack of greeting makes you feel ... let down.
People passing through our lives often leave impressions or memories. A slight or unkindness will leave a tiny nick in your psyche. If you are fortunate, someone else will come along and smooth out that wound by being a positive force. While I am more than capable of being the former – it is…
At first glance, it was pure love. So much so, I nearly drove into the ditch upon espying the newest object of my affections. It was large, spacious, skirted neatly with a fieldstone base, picked out in white trim and sporting the most fetching little cupolas you have ever seen.
Last week, the Hubs was making fun of me, so much that he showed our caseworker the “mountain” of jars in the storage shed. Admittedly, he is not wrong. There are a LOT of jars. Quart, pint, half pint, half gallon, jelly and my favorite – the pint and a half jar. There are clear, green, blue…
I have a confession. I am so angry right now, it’s a small miracle steam is not shooting out my ears. I have listened to news reports, read statistics, and my disgust, frustration and, yes, rage, over this opioid problem has hit a new level.