Swallowing Contest

Yes, very provocative title, I know. Not much of a stretch or really a surprise coming from my brain. Although, as proud as I am of my gutter floating mind, that's not what I mean. What I mean is I feel like I'm in a swallowing contest with the world. Will it swallow me up or will I be able to choke down more of the daily crap it shovels down my, and our collective throats?
I'm a pretty tough chic (understatement). I'm very laid back (thank you ganga) and I'm very pro personal responsibility and individuality. Be free to be who you are, but own it. I believe that too many rules breed uniformity and we aren't all in the military. I'm not a weird anarchist hippy. I'm not at all illogical, I really believe that actions are decisions made in the heart and manifested into reality. My mother used to say the most annoying thing when I was in trouble - While I was inevitably trying to talk my way out of whatever I had most definitely done, she would stop me and say "Your actions speak so loudly I can't hear what you're saying." When I was a teenager I just looked at it as my cue to quit talking, but as I got older I could literally hear people's actions screaming in my head while they were talking.
Now I'm walking through this world, trying to usher my children through with the typical irrational hopes of every mother..."Maybe I can get em through unscathed and still completely innocent." The best weapon I can think of to arm them with is the truth. Their personal truth and the truth that you will know a tree by its fruits. I'm not a retard, I know these beautiful creatures will be lied to, or cheated, or......bullied. Trust me if anyone knows that marching to your own drum gets you picked on, its me. But I stayed who I was the whole time. I owned it and I'm very happy with my result.
Let me let you in on a little secret...... animals, plants and people have a survival instinct. Even without teaching them anything all living creatures will figure out how to exist. I hear all these parents constantly talking about how they are teaching their kids to "survive in this world". And maybe that's our problem in general, we are just surviving, coexisting on a tiny rock being hurdled through space. When did we start teaching survival and stop teaching our kids how to live?
Its times like recent ones that make it hard to pick up your pom poms every morning and teach your kids to smile and say something funny when the world punches them in the face, but we owe it to them. Because that is the only way we can win this, this swallowing contest without getting swallowed up. My gets have a bright bright light and I refuse to let that be swallowed in the darkness we have created....

As good a day as any

I'm 31 today. My hands shake just typing it. I used to journal a lot. A LOT. I'm used to writing down what goes on in my life. Or in my head. I kept pretty, decorative, private little books of everything I thought or felt. That is, until I met my husband.
Ahhh my husband, my whole inspiration for blogging. Let me explain. You see, I wrote all kinds of wonderful things about him after our 1st date. After we'd been together a while, we were talking one day about when we "knew" that the other was "the one". So I pulled out my trusty, private, little autobiography and read him what I thought after our first few hours together. He loved it. He blushed and smiled and kissed me and it was awesome. Apparently, however, me reading him the E.J. stuff in my journal was code for "please, read some more sometime, on your own." Hence the blogging.
I've never been a very modest or private person and that was never more handy than when I decided to share my life with kids and a husband. Not to mention my mother, the narrator of my life, lives with us. Its big, its unorganized, its overwhelming sometimes, but its totally us.
I stand in the middle of my chaos and giggle. Join me from time to time...