Tag Archives: growing up

Milk In The Face

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Moody

Yes of course I was, my dear mother made it quite clear I was the most difficult child of the five she brought into this world.

I suspect I was strong-willed right from the start, ready to run, ready to say no, all of which is ‘normal” I think.

When I was about two years old I chose to have it out with my mother and challenge her, big mistake. She always kept her word, knowing this at the time would have saved me some grief, and tears.

I grew up on a farm and loved playing outside, I suspect the “incident” had something to do with her wanting me to come inside the house…and me putting my foot down and giving her a very loud, “NO”.

As a kid in the 60’s everyone drank cow’s milk, I loved it, it was my life blood, nothing kept me from it, until the fateful day of the “Great Challenge”.

Standing in the doorway, a small truck in my hand; my mother opposite me, glass of milk in her hand.

As I raised the toy above my head she said, “If you throw that, I will throw the milk in your face”

I threw the truck.

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swift justice

 

 

 

 

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The Mother Inside

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The mother inside smiles a lot and hugs her children every day, and tells them she loves them. She reads them a story every night and sings to them quietly until they fall asleep.

The mother inside spends countless hours playing with her children; she will sit on the floor with them, at their level and pretend for hours, delighting in their laughter and silliness. She has never forgotten what it is like to be a child and has many fond memories from her own childhood.

The mother inside lets her children help in the kitchen when she is cooking and baking. She sets a chair beside the cupboard so they can roll out cookies and help peel potatoes. She loves having them at her side, and warms at the thought they will do this with their own children some day.

The mother inside finds joy in the small things, like doing laundry for her family, cooking, cleaning, because she knows that some day they will do the same for her. She knows that her children will appreciate all the things she has done for them while they are growing up.

The mother inside does not spank or yell at her children, but instead try’s to reason with them in a way they will understand. She is patient and kind, with endless hours spent reading parenting magazines and books,  become even more amazing than she already is.

The mother inside goes to every parent/teacher interview, volunteers for the school and drives her children to countless activities after school. She is never late with breakfast and loves putting little surprises in their lunch bags along with  homemade cookies and sandwiches.

The mother inside makes their Halloween costumes each year, and bakes goodies to hand out for treats.

The mother inside goes shopping with her daughter for a prom dress, they have lunch at a restaurant, and laugh about the movie they want to see together. She is proud and filled with joy to have a daughter so loving and kind.

The mother inside is radiant with happiness, as she attends the graduation ceremony for her children, and marvels at how grown up they look on the stage. They smile and wave at her, blowing invisible kisses that melt her heart.

The mother inside is there every time her son and daughter need a hug of encouragement or want to forget the terrible date they just had. She smiles and says, “everything will work out”, even after one of her children says she is stupid and a terrible mother. She does not cry because she knows they are saying it in a fit of rage, and it doesn’t really count.

The mother inside does not exist.

Daily Prompt: The Artist And The Archaeologist

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When you were 10, what did you want to be when you grew up? What are you now? Are the two connected?

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At that age all I wanted to be was an artist. The walls of my bedroom were covered with cartoons, Snoopy and Charlie Brown being my favorite. Construction paper and masking tape were my friends, along with pencil crayons and cardboard.

The other thing I wanted to be was an archaeologist digging for lost treasure, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. When I was around ten or twelve, I buried a small box of trinkets so I could have the fun of digging it up. This part of the quest I found rather boring, because I already knew where the treasure lay. I also buried a dead mouse, but never did find the bones, that was very disappointing.

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I have been an artist my whole life, and have dabbled in many different mediums. I don’t make my living at it, but it will always be a passion in my life.

I didn’t become an archaeologist, but also remain interested in anything to do with this field of study. The very mention of the word Egyptology, and I’m still conjuring up treasure digs in my head.

For me, these two passions will always be connected, they have defined who I am; who knows, maybe one of these years I may be lucky enough to develop an ancient curse of my own, 🙂

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/05/daily-prompt-dreams/

Laugh Out Loud

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My odd, silly sense of humor has served me well over the years. Every once in awhile I like to think about what it was like being a kid, having that sense of wonder, and not caring what people thought.

As I get older I find myself doing the same thing, and still not caring if I laugh out loud.

I had a great childhood, and clearly remember wondering about things I didn’t fully understand, and doing weird things to find out what would happen.

Like...  When I was really young, maybe four or five, I thought the KFC bucket had real chicken in it, and I wondered how they got in in there. I loved watching the bucket turn around.

When I was about ten, I wanted to dig up lost treasure, so I buried a small box of plastic trinkets, then at a later date dug it up. I remember thinking how dirty everything was. lol

As a child one of the things I wanted to be was an archaeologist. One day I found a dead mouse, and buried it so I would have bones to dig up. I never did find the mouse and was really disappointed.

When I was about twelve, my grandfather shot a skunk, buried it, then told my cousin and I to leave it alone. Me being the archaeologist, I dug it up. My grandfather was not impressed, and my mother even less, I stunk for days!

I think about this now, and think….go girl go!

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I wouldn’t change a thing.

Anyone else remember doing silly things as a child?