Category: Blog Carnivals

Monday has dared to rear its ugly head once again, which can only mean one thing: it’s time to participate in Good Enough Mama’s Monday Mumbers!                                          


                           

546278 = Muscles that ache after doing level 2 of the 30 Day Shred for the first time

3 = Gray hairs I found on my head this week

53 = Gray hairs I found on my husband’s head this week

135436 = Times I’ve pointed out that he has more gray hairs than me

6 = Children that were here on Saturday

3 = Children who actually went swimming in our cold ass pool in 80 degree weather

4.2 = Average number of minutes any given child stayed in the cold ass pool

1 = Calves born here this weekend.  A female named Valerie, if you’re curious.

4 = Baby chicks we had at the start of the weekend

3 = Baby chicks we have now

340987420957 = Tears my daughter has cried over sitting on a baby chick by accident

1100 = Approximate number of days until Alison can get a pony

5482398485 = Times she has confirmed with me that she will, in fact, someday get a pony

3 = Days of Jury Duty this week.  Thanks, Cesar Chavez!  Happy Birthday!

3 = Approximate weeks of Jury Duty left.  I think I’ll actually make it through, in tact. Yay!


                           
                                                Happy Spring!

When exactly do we begin calling our blogging cohorts “friends”?  Is it when we visit each other’s blogs regularly, or is it when we banter through email, or is it when we just feel like we’d love to have a huge glass of wine (or cup of coffee, depending on your preference) with that person?

I don’t know.  Do you? 

Anyway, my friend Kia over at Good Enough Mama, who meets all of the above criteria, by the way, has started this new blog carnival she calls Monday Mumbers and I promised her I’d tag along, if for no other reason than to force her to visit my blog on a Monday, whether she likes it or not.

So here we go, my first attempt:

                                             

2   = glasses of wine I consumed this entire weekend

20 = glasses of wine I’d planned to consume this weekend

2 = times I actually did the 30 Day Shred this past week 

3 = weeks of jury duty left

2 = pounds I’ve GAINED since starting Jury Duty

15 = dollars they pay me for sitting on the jury

1 = Zoo trips I will miss due to Jury duty

4 = times I’ve had nightmares about jury duty

10 = maximum number of hours I’m usually away from Blythe in a week

34 = hours per week I’m away from her while at jury duty

11 = times I’ve cried over that loss

100 = times harder this is than I thought 

3567 = times per day I whine about jury duty (minimum)

0 = times I will ever,  EVER serve on a jury again.  No kidding, I will get a doctor’s note if I have to.

12 = oreo cookies I ate yesterday.  Damn husband and his sweets.

40 = minutes Blythe slept for her nap today

3 = rooms of my house I scrubbed clean on Saturday

7 = rooms left to clean

10 = rooms that will get thrashed before I have a chance to clean again

0 = chance of my mood improving any time soon

9/10 = scale of how sorry I am for being a bummer today

Today is Blog Action Day, and the topic is Poverty.  I’m always late to the party, because I’m completely clueless most of the time – but I showed up, right?  Right?  If you’d like to read some amazing posts on poverty, head on over to the site and follow the links!

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I’m not one to obsess about the cleanliness of my car.  With two kids and two big dogs, it’s pretty much a lost cause.

Oh, every now and then I’ll get a hair up my butt and go wash, vacuum and Armor All the interior.  But there’s a streak of dirt right inside the passenger door that I don’t clean.  If, on the off chance I get my car professionally washed, I point to the dirty spot and ask them to leave it alone.  I’m the crazy dirt lady, I know – but I hold that title with pride.

One day last winter, I had just dropped Alison off at my mom’s and was making my way home through a downpour.  As I came over a set of rail road tracks, I was shocked to see a woman carrying a small child along the side of the road. 

We live in a rural area and there aren’t any sidewalks, instead there are ditches.  I screeched to a halt and asked the woman if she’d like a ride.  She buckled her 3-year-old daughter into Alison’s car seat and jumped into the front, trying to get out of the rain as quickly as possible. 

I asked if her car had broken down, and she replied that she didn’t have a car.  Every day, she walked her daughter three miles to pre-school, walked home, then walked back and carried her another three miles home.  The little girl tried her best to walk, but six miles is a very long way for a three-year-old, especially in the rain. 

I drilled her with exasperated questions: Where was the school bus?  Why isn’t there a transit bus in our area?  Why wasn’t the school doing something about this?  All she could say was that she wanted her daughter to get an education, and to have a head start.  Whatever it took, she was willing to do it to see that her little girl had every opportunity to succeed in life.

I followed the woman’s directions and pulled up in front of their modest home. 

“I’m so sorry, I got mud on your car,” she said as she climbed out of the car.  “If you wait here a minute, I’ll go get something to clean it off.”  Of course I declined, telling her it would only take me a moment to clean it at home.

“You two just get warm and dry, and maybe I’ll see you again,” I told her.  I waved as I drove away, and managed to keep the tears from falling down my face until she was out of sight. 

I may complain that it takes $65 to fill up my car these days – but I have a car.  I may complain that I wash too many clothes, dishes, and floors – but that means we have clothes to keep us warm, food to eat, and a home to run around in.  I may get frustrated that my husband works long hours, but he has a job – a good one, and a business that is thriving despite a sagging economy.

That little streak of dirt represents the sacrifices a poor mother makes for her child to have a better life, to have a future better than her own.  So I keep that dirty spot, and it reminds me every day not only of how fortunate we are, but also that we need to have compassion for those who are not.