This blog isn't going anywhere. It will be here as long as Blogger will keep it around. But all content, minus a post or comment here and there, has been moved on over.
So please, change your bookmarks or feed reader subscription to Life's Little Adventures, the Wordpress edition!
Perhaps the question shouldn't be "who do you blog for?". Perhaps it should be "why do you blog?", or "who knows about your blog?", or "what do you get out of blogging?".
For some reason I've been thinking about this a fair bit lately. I read several blogs regularly and even more of them sporadically, and it seems everyone is in this for different reasons. What are yours?
Me, well, I started the blog primarily to keep my family and Andy's up to date on the boys. My family is a few hours away--just far enough to make it inconvenient to visit very often. And Andy's parents moved away to Phoenix, which is about 25 hours from here by car. Since they've moved we've seen them once. Also, I have good friends that live far away. So, one day during a slow time at work, and after seeing a magazine article about blogging, I sat down and wrote a quick introductory post. Then I called my mom and told her about it, and e-mailed everyone that I thought might be interested.
For awhile I wrote a post every few days. All the posts were about the boys because, after all, that's what this was about. Right? While I was beginning my blog, I also browsed around and began reading a few other blogs regularly. I didn't comment or anything, just lurked around. But one day, a post that Ann Adams wrote just cried out for me to say something. I left a comment, and the neatest thing happened. She visited my blog and left me a comment! Until then, I'd had no comments from anyone but my mom and my aunt, who have since started blogs of their own. It was such a nice feeling!
I began cruising around the blogosphere, leaving little comments everywhere I went. Some folks visited me and left comments, others didn't. No biggie--I was having a blast! And somewhere in there, I began posting more often. Pretty soon it was nearly every day. The other big change was that I quit talking about the boys every post, and began to share some of my thoughts and feelings. It was so nice to just get those thoughts out of my head and into reality, and it was even nicer when even just one person commented with a virtual hug or an "I understand, I've been there."
I love my blog. Sometimes I struggle with what I want it to be. There are times when I'm angry or upset and I debate whether I want to post about that or not, because just as there are nice people hanging out on the internets, there are mean people who derive great satisfaction in posting the perfect nasty anonymous comment. Sometimes I'll notice I've posted 8 straight posts about the boys and figure I'd better make a change before ya'll get bored. Sometimes I'll ramble about myself for several posts before remembering that perhaps the grandparents would like to hear about the kids. It's a balance, I guess.
I notice that many people with blogs don't tell their families about them. Then they come online and rant and rave about their mom or their mother-in-law or their sister or whoever else is driving them crazy. Now, I'm not complaining--sometimes those posts are hilarious, sometimes they're very sad and I want to offer support, and sometimes (but not so often, OK, guys? remember, everyone, my family rocks!) I can totally relate. I always wonder, though, don't you worry that one day they'll find your blog? Wouldn't that be awful?
Something else I wonder about is how much to write about the boys. They're not babies any longer, and while I still think they're adorable and wonderful and small, one of these days they may not appreciate me posting all kinds of things about them on the internet. Not that I'll stop writing about them, necessarily, but perhaps I'll have to change the tone. Wouldn't it be awful if, when they are 12 or so, a classmate ran across the blog and read about potty training and pacifiers in the archives, and the temper tantrum they threw in Wal-Mart just the other day?
Well, that certainly was a disjointed jumble of thoughts. Hopefully you made some sense out of what I'm saying, at least. So, tell me about your blogging philosophy. I'd like to know how you do things at your place!
So, if you're unable to see photos here, or you cannot load the site but can read through an rss reader, try the Wordpress site. And let me know what you think of it, OK?
Life's Little Adventures on Wordpress
The boys riding their bikes at the farm
My tree in the evening light
Hot Summer Sunset (104 on this day)
Yesterday when I pulled in at the sitter's house to pick up the boys, my truck had smoke rolling out from under the hood. Lots of smoke. Lots of white, smelly smoke. That's never good, is it?
I'll omit all the details of the 2 hours that followed, but I will tell you that it was enough to give me a major headache. I did end up driving it to my friends house to have him look at it, and then home with the A/C turned off (104 here yesterday, people!) because it was blowing hot air, and because it smoked less with it turned off. There were rumors that it was the compressor, the radiator, or possibly the alternator after 2 different people looked at it.
Fortunately for me, my next door neighbor is a mechanic. And he's a nice guy. He came over and looked at the truck and within a minute told me I had a hole in the condenser and all my freon had leaked out. The freon was burning off on the hot engine parts, and that was causing the smelly smoke. How did I get a hole in the condenser? I have not a clue. But there it is, about as big around as an inkpen and clear as day. He says I could have run over a stick or a rock or hit a bird...any of those things could do it. I don't remember hitting anything, but obviously I did.
My neighbor (whose shop is behind his house) took the truck. He went to town and got the part and had it fixed for me by 10:00 last night. He replaced the condenser, refilled the freon and charged the system, and, since he already was in there, changed the oil and filter and rotated the tires. Isn't that great?
So, even though I'm out a few hundred dollars that I didn't really have just laying around waiting to be spent, I didn't have to deal with the hassle of taking the car to an unknown mechanic. Not to mention finding a ride to and from the mechanic to drop off and pick up the truck. And I wasn't charged for the oil change and tire rotation except for the oil and filter, so I won't be spending that money here in a few weeks when it was due.
I guess that's not a bad deal, all things considered.
So anyway, I can't do the post by the boys until I can post from home, and until I can be assured of a connection I'm posting from work. So, keep holding for that. It's coming, I promise, because I love the idea.
My birthday yesterday was nice. I spent a good portion of the day on the phone, which made me feel very loved. My parents called, twice. Both of my brothers called. My far-away best friends Mike and Jeff called, and Annie even remembered to call. My local buddies Mark and Mandy called, too. Well, actually, Mark called but Mandy stopped by the house with new scrapbooking supplies and a birthday card. Wasn't that nice? I got several e-cards and a few happy birthday e-mails. And today they had break goodies at work for all the August birthdays, and the boss man made no-bake cookies special for me because I love them.
Andy and the boys got me a tiny little cake from the Kroger bakery. It was yummy. They got me a CD and a video game (Yes, a video game. Spyro the Dragon. I guess moms need to have fun, too... I believe the boys chose that gift themselves.) and a little camouflage stool to take with me when I go out into the woods with my camera. Oh, and flowers. They got me flowers. Mums and a little ivy-looking plant. And, Nicky agreed to pose for pictures for me. He never, ever agrees, but he said he would because it was my birthday. That one above is my favorite--he was trying to make his "mean face" but was laughing too much to be able to accomplish the frown.
It's nice to know that I have people that love me. People I'm related to and friends I've known for years and some blogging buddies that I've never actually met. Thank you, everyone. You made it a great day.
Do I sound like a little kid? I do? Probably because I feel like one on my birthday. I know that as you grow up and get older birthdays aren't supposed to be exciting anymore, and I guess it's not as exciting as it was when I was, say, 8. But it's still fun.
Debra had the idea that I should get the boys to write my birthday post. I love the idea! However, they were already in bed by the time I got her comment, and I won't see them until this evening, so perhaps I'll get them to write a post another day. Soon. Look for that, OK? In the meantime...
I am 33 years old. I was born August 15, 1974, to a mother who was in a (medically) drug-induced sleep after many hours of labor and a father who was in the parking lot moving the car. I believe the only people that actually witnessed my birth were the hospital personnel! But that's alright--I don't remember it, anyway. I was Mom and Dad's first child. Boy, were they in for a treat!
My mom really wanted a little girl. You know, for pink dresses and dolls and girly kind of stuff. That lasted, ummmm, until I could make my own decisions. I'm not a pink dress and doll kind of girl, really. I'd be better described as a tomboy. It served me well for life in the country--I was happiest with the animals or roaming the fields and woods. I was never afraid to get dirty, and did farm chores from an early age. When I was a teenager, my dad was interviewed for the employee spotlight section of his company newsletter. In it, he referred to me as his first born son. Yes, he did. I still have the newsletter somewhere.
I did well in school without much effort. If I had really tried I probably could have done even better. I didn't do as well in college without much effort--it took my first semester and a GPA I'd never, ever seen before to teach me that I wasn't as brilliant as I figured I was. After that I applied myself and did well. I graduated from college in 1996 with a degree in agriculture, and after a few months at home I landed the job I have now and moved 2 hours from my parents and into an apartment that I shared with no one but a cat named Sally. I married Andy 3 years later, I was nearly finished with a masters degree 2 years after that when I found out I was pregnant with Drew. No more school for me! 2 more years and Nicholas came along, and now, well, here I am.
I have a good life. I have a good husband and 2 wonderful little boys. I have a job that pays the bills and a nice home and a nice vehicle and food in my pantry. I have a great, supportive family, and a handful of really good friends.
And I'm only 33.
Just think of how wonderful my life will be in 33 more years if I keep on going like this!
I really don't have much to say today. Tomorrow, though, is a very special day in our household...it's my birthday! I'll be 33. I keep telling the boys I'm turning 25, but they correct me every time. Unfortunately, they think I'm turning 43, and they tell that to everyone we see. *sigh* I wonder if I should write a special birthday post for myself? Or perhaps I should get someone to guest post for me? Any ideas? What do you guys think I should do?
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From Nick, I learned that our kitchen chairs are 90 feet tall. Yes, 90 feet tall. I asked him how he came up with that number, and he sat down and began pointing to random points on the legs of one of the chairs. He moved upward while counting (and he can only count to 25 reliably, the rest is hit or miss) and when he reached 90 he said "See?! 90 feet!".
From Jordan (neighbor boy), I learned that we have rattlesnakes in the vicinity. He showed up on the doorstep on Saturday with a baby snake (dead) and asked for help in identifying it. He thought it may be a baby copperhead. A 10 minute internet and textbook search revealed that no, it wasn't a baby copperhead, it was a baby rattlesnake. Nice.
From both boys, I learned that I shouldn't always trust them alone. I needed to take a shower yesterday afternoon after mowing the lawn, and Andy was at work. They are 4 and 6--certainly they can be trusted alone for 10 minutes while I clean up, right? As I was showering, I could hear them laughing, and I was happy that they were getting along and playing nicely. When I came out of the bathroom I discovered what was making them laugh so hard--they were taking turns spitting mouthfuls of Pepsi at one another. Yeah. I guess I should be glad they were in the kitchen and not in a carpeted area, but still... What a sticky mess!
Did you learn anything new this weekend?