Okay! That’s it! I am sorry to say, but this “new normal” has finally broken me. The endless work from home (both in my profession and now as a “substitute” teacher for my children’s online learning), combined with reduced physical activity and the loss of “me” time has sapped my energy and stripped away my sanity. I am throwing in the towel and pleading uncle, “I give!”
Because of this $@%! coronavirus, my creativity has gone to crap. Consequently, I have decided to stop participating in this year’s 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge. Although I am bummed that I could not continue this endeavor, the constant research and creating connections to sometimes obscure writing prompts have made this challenge… well, challenging.
So, for the remainder of 2020, I will be focusing on pre-planned stories, personal pieces, and book reviews. Hopefully, y’all will stick with me as I go back to my blog’s tried-and-true topics.
As always, thank you for reading and commenting on my posts. You guys are the best! So, until my next post, may you and your loved ones stay safe and stay sane.
I hate to admit it, but in my teenage and young adult years, I was an expert at pushing my mother’s buttons. (If I haven’t said it lately, so sorry about that, Mom.)
It seemed like every time she spoke, I would respond with high-pitched whines, ever-rolling eyes, and yeah whatevers. (It really, really is a miracle that I made it to adulthood!) Worse yet, I would argue the opposite of what she was saying. If my mother stated that the sky was blue, I would claim that it had a tint of red. If she commented that it was cold outside, I would swear that I was hot. And if she yelled, “Turn down that #$&* noise!”, naturally, I cranked up the volume. (Yep, I was THAT kid…)
Now that I am older, I have come to appreciate the amazing restraint my mom exercised when I and my sisters were children and teenagers. With our rolling eyes and know-it-all comments and all-around pain-in-the-posterior attitudes, it is a miracle that any of us ever made it to adulthood.
And yet, here I am, a mother myself of children with their own eye rolls and smart-aleck responses and P.I.T.A. performances: I swear they will be lucky to make it to next week! Continue reading
According to family lore, when I was just a newborn, my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother wanted me to be christened. However, my father interceded, saying that when and if I were baptized, it should be something that I knowingly would choose. His stance made sense to my mother, and I was not baptized as a baby.