Ego Testing

I don’t usually allow myself to brag or toot my own horn. I’ve always found myself shrinking away from pointing out my accomplishments.

If I think on it, it started with all of the As on my report card. It was the rule in my house to get paid for grades. A = $5, B = $4, and so on. This was great motivation for buckling down and getting it done… however it didn’t translate to me. I stood by and watched my cousins get paid and because I had all As I was told that my report card would break the bank. And while that wasn’t her words, the true words are singed into my psyche. It caused me to want to be closer to their version of normal. I sought to dumb things down so I too could get paid. Needless to say, that didn’t go over well either. Sigh, what’s a kid to do?

Fast forward to adulthood. I still struggle but I’m vocal about it. I once admonished people I didn’t know to change their nickname for their daughter. I overheard them saying it and laughing. They were calling her hippo. The girl stopped smiling when she saw me. I don’t remember my exact words, but I remember them, her parents, telling me it was fine, that she knew they were teasing. I looked at her. I didn’t see amusement, I saw a little girl who didn’t get why I was so upset. I told her she was beautiful and so not a hippo. I tried to explain it to her parents one more time. They smiled and thanked me for my concerns. I walked away, but I’ve continue to pray for her. I suppose that she’s found a way to be okay with the name calling and that it isn’t burned into her psyche also. It bugs me.

Deep sigh

Oh, here’s a big test of my ego. I’m going to share one of my nicknames: heavy hips, hips for short. It made me, ok, it makes me self conscious of just about everything. So all of my nicknames for my littles are positive and I try hard to stay away from coarse jesting.

Now, I ask that you test your ego and make changes accordingly.

New Beginnings

One would think that new year resolutions would be on my mind, and in truth I do have one which was made manifest today in completion.

I’ve decided to make them monthly and allow each month it’s own victory. I need these small but consistent victories. Sure, I will endeavor to have more than one a month, but that one requires a discipline that I want to spread throughout my life.

I have also taken the time to evict old hurts from my head. Old nagging hurts that have lingered far too long and have taken up far too much space in my head.

So on this 3rd day of the year 2022, I am making myself accountable for deliberately achieving at least one goal each month. It’s financial so it will require denial of self gratification… we humans, like teens, don’t do that often.

Ever Diligent

When did the power of the Creator become impotent?
    I stopped while channel surfing and watched a scene in which a group of teens were using witchcraft to escape from something. The images were compelling. I asked myself what that scene would look like if it were teens praying to the God I profess.
   I admit honestly that there are times when even in my head the sin of witchcraft seems a bit less sinful, especially when I’m seeking immediate relief.
    This generation, this microwave, tiktok, and yes, witchcraft embracing world has seemingly rendered the God I serve – impotent.

Let me say first, that Harry Potter taught me that we do our kids a disservice by not teaching them not only what we believe, but also the why and how of our faith.

Attending church isn’t teaching them. Church is the pep rally for game day. It’s the day when the coach rallys support for the team and all of the hard work they put into their skill. AND YES THIS FAITH JOURNEY REQUIRES SKILL.

It’s easy to be critical about the fictional school called Hogwarts. And it’s even easier to ignore the teaching of the power that awakened Lazarus. We, parents, are responsible for the teaching and the gathering of the knowledge so that we can teach.

Deep, deep sigh. Never forget that Hebrews 11:6 and be ever diligent.

Exciting and New

Yesterday, the newest Nanaboy tried a new food. He was apprehensive at first, brow furrowed, lips clasped tightly shut. So I put the entire experience in his control. He smelled it, and then he licked it cautiously. I saw the moment he knew that this was something he was going to like. I giggled and watched him do the happy food dance. He hummed and giggled and danced until it was all gone.

The thought of his joy at trying something new makes me smile even now. I never want to get so bogged down with the heavy things of this life, that I can’t enjoy life. I want to be able to enjoy the fun of this existence.

I must find that inner me that will allow me to “taste and see”. And then not be ashamed to get my dance on!

Buenos Dias!

It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood!

Recently a friend died, leaving those around him unchecked access to his life and all of its messes.

In some instances, grief was overshadowed by anger. He lived as we all live, openly secret about our mess. It has been a huge job tidying up his life. So as a result, I’ve decided to death clean. I am facing my messes, not as actively as I’d thought, but facing them nonetheless.

It’s not easy. I’m trying to use the ” if you haven’t touched it in 90 days it needs to go” method, however, that doesn’t help me with the office stuff. Taxes are eternal.

There are school papers, adoption stuff, lots of school supplies AND let’s not forget all of the notebooks that contain not yet published manuscripts and years of journals and diaries. Whew! Yes the office goes last.

The closet should be first. Then the sewing slash craft room. SIGH Its a lot! And while I don’t expect to die anytime soon, I know I have to get it done SOONER THAN LATER.

Prayerfully, I get lots done today when the toddler is napping. Wink wink Before the others get home from school, which is half day this week… sigh, okay, well, maybe tomorrow?

Gone Forever

Death is so prevalent around me, so much so, it seems that someone I know dies each day.

And no, it’s not always Covid. It is the inevitability of death. Most go through this life trying to keep it at bay and some just don’t care either way. It will come.

So I’m choosing to try to live my very best life each day. No grudges, fleeting anger and jealousy. Putting envy aside, it serves no true purpose.

Grab you new mercy and spread some to those who don’t remember that they have some.

Be the reason someone smiles.



I know you’re thinking it, so there I’ve said it. Ugh!

Now that that’s out of the way, you must always remember to take a little time for yourself. MAKE TIME for yourself, even if it’s only a few minutes alone in the bathroom. Yep, this can be tricky, especially if you have children.

However, in this time of busy, busy, busy, make some time to be busy about you. Then pat yourself on the back for getting it done.


We all have firsts. Only one person is first.

I’d wasted my virginity long before I got to Mr. PADGETT, you know, sexual wampum is very real. And I’d squandered the riches of the kingdom in such a way that I can’t even remember when it began… ok I can but that takes me back to things I don’t want to remember right now. I must insert that I do not count rape as wampum… that is stolen treasures. I mention it only because it crossed my mind as I was writing.

I can’t even tell you the number Mr. PADGETT held, I can however remember that he was the first to elicit the ultimate response from my nubile body. I remember that it caused the lighting in the room to change and like any drug addiction, it caused me to want to recreate that high. It was all I could think about until I coaxed him into bed again. I must clarify here that in his words, I’d lied to him about the status of my virginity. He didn’t want to be my first anything, so when he was almost naked the second time, he stopped and uttered the words that followed me for longer than you’d imagine, “I’m not trying to fall in love.” Sigh

Heck, neither was I! I just wanted the high and at that moment he was the drug dealer. I did not get high that night or for many, many nights after the first night.

I’ve always imagined what it would have been like if I’d waited until marriage. What could it have been if someone had simply told me that waiting to have sexual intercourse would have saved my now damaged everything. Yes, as a Christian we are taught to wait till marriage because sex outside of marriage is sin, however, it goes so much deeper than any of that can explain.

There are no emotions attached when trading wampum. It is a transaction brokered by an app nowadays and by any night club back then or if you’re really adventurous, any grocery store. I can say that my first night with Mr. PADGETT started out wampum, seeking the prize in a competition and he was the prize.

SIGH, I won nothing but an understanding of what the phrase, “Do not wake love before its time” means. Don’t misunderstand, sex is not love; though it can be the physical expression of it. Double sigh, how precious it would have been to be forever bound to Mr. PADGETT, if I’d loved him. Nope, he was a prize, a conquest, no love involved. Smh

Apologies for such a long post. Be honest with your teens, sex isn’t love and wampum is a waste. It is a gateway drug. It opens the door to … just be honest with your kids.

“What tha…?”

Today, I woke up and didn’t enjoy the thought of what I’d have to face today.

This surely wasn’t what I’d imagined when I turned 40. I wanted the next twenty to be epic, never once imagining a pandemic. I just knew that I as I sat there on the bed, putting my shoes on, speaking mostly about the now ex-husband – I wanted change.

Fast forward to today, I have change, however, it doesn’t look like I thought it would. I’d have never imagined that the so called cancel culture would affect me by way of my parenting. And at the same time, be sought out for those same skills.

Life is odd in ways we are never told and could not possibly imagine. I could say that whatever dream you have beyond your child being a good person, are just that, your dreams. Your job is to introduce them to the wonders of this life and show them that they can choose. Allow them a skill. Something uncommon, like, sewing, crochet, etc. Cooking is essential they should at least be able to feed themselves. (See what happened there?)

That rabbit trail shot off in a direction that I didn’t intend for it to go. This post is about my life as me; not wife, mom, etc. This is about me dying inside because it’s midnight and I haven’t been able to do me. I am a writer and teacher at my core. I know who I am and have been called to be by the Creator. It’s frustrating to go an entire twenty-four hours and not write anything.

I remember J K Rowling remembering she could afford to get a sitter for the kids and a hotel room for herself so that she could focus on her writing. I want that one day, sooner than later. Sigh

So today, I am starting back to me, using the skills I’ve learned through the years. I will set a soft schedule to my day. I learned that back when I sold lingerie. I say “soft” because foster parenting taught me that schedules must be fluid AND raising teens has taught me that it’s all gonna go off the rails anyway.

So there you have it. I will no longer allow the WTH days to dictate anything. I will attempt to go with the flow so that the boat doesn’t get dashed against the rocks of this thing I call my life. And just so you know, hubby and I are just fine. This post is singularly about me.

I had a crazy jealous day recently, vestiges of past relationships, and I knew I needed to apologize because my husband is an honorable man.

Me: You love me? Him: Of course I love you. Me: Even when I’m being all jealous and crazy for no real reason? He looks away from his phone and smiles, ” especially when you’re being all jealous and crazy. I love every part of you my love.”

Yep, I’m staying anchored to this port in the storm I call my life.