On Tuesday I was so busy I left my house at 7:00 am and didn’t return until 2:00… a.m. I didn’t see my kiddos at all that day. Insert sad face and turn up the volume on mommy guilt.
That same day I left the gate opener key for Husband who had the stroller and both children since I was attending a Mother’s Day function. My intentions were good. I was being helpful so that he didn’t have to fumble around with keys and kids and pushable objects. The clicker is easier, I thought. And it would have been had I not taken the house keys. He got into the gate just fine but I had locked him and both kids out of our home. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
My son is one of those kids that sticks his whole hand in his mouth. So far down, in fact, that occasionally he makes himself throw up. Last night, he was covered in chunky mango vomit. Perfect.
I started washing my hair last night and couldn’t understand why there were no suds. Turns out I was washing my hair… with face wash.
A huge moth flew around on our porch fluttering as loud as a large bird on meth, landing on our awning, its great big eyes staring at me all threatening like. I ran into my hallway squealing like a chicken shit before telling Husband that I was going to stay in my room until the monster was gone. It was gigantic, yo. (I should note that my Monster moth was bigger than the one in the picture and that that is not – nor ever will – be my hand.)
Husband dropped a 10 peso coin last night and it began to roll towards me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving in my direction and thought it was an animal (aka insect) so I jumped in the scared surprised way that makes other people laugh but gives you a mini heart attack.
In the three years that I’ve been blogging I’ve tried not to compare myself with other bloggers – specifically in the numbers/followers/readers/comments game. I’ve discovered over the course of my blogging timeline that my readers follow my blog without being “official” followers. They keep up with my writing but may not leave comments, etc. Besides Husband. He’s the best follower.
You know what I mean if you’re a blogger – you want followers and comments naturally. I don’t want to ask others for forced comments or follower status because it feels forced, but unfortunately, sometimes in the world of blogging, numbers matter. This week I needed help – which I hate asking for – in the way of shameless begging to Facebook friends to “join this site” and build up my follower numbers. Friends helped (and feel free to keep “helping” – aka “liking” on the right sidebar under CONTACT ME… while you’re at it, feel free to SUBSCRIBE via email) and I’m grateful for the support. In a “perfect” world, I wouldn’t ask for that help, I would have 634 followers and each post would boast 24 comments on a bad day but alas I’m not there yet. But maybe asking for that help from my community of readers isn’t a bad thing but instead a good thing. Maybe being vulnerable and asking for help in this realm makes it easier to ask for help in others.
Photo Credits:
Gordon Creek Road (adapted by DTWB) – Luke Detwiler
Moth – Amy