Who needs to work anyway?

Me. *sigh*

I guess the kids have to eat.  Considering their ginormous appetites, they might have turned to crime or cannibalism if I hadn’t of stepped in.

I actually love to work.  It gives me a purpose, goals, and much inspiration.  So what’s with all the *big sigh* drama, you say?

I started freelancing, which has taken me away from the fun-nery of blogging and leisurely blog reading.  I’ve been getting some decent work and steady pay, but mostly, have lost the desire to run into oncoming traffic to give myself a bona fide excuse for severely neglected house projects.

Dishes?  What?!  How can I be expected to do the dishes when I have this big, important, high-paying job I’m trying to do here?  Did I mention that I’m still in my PJs?  There are deadlines, but — me being me — I make things more difficult than necessary.

For instance, I bid on a transcription job that was for this guy who had recorded a “reading” with a spiritual guide.  It was pretty entertaining because… Wow!  I got a front-row seat to cah-razy!  Our spiritual guide was telling poor sap that he actually didn’t belong in this world.  He was from the Fifth Dimension, and worked best in the Eleventh Dimension.  His Teachers, speaking all scary-like through the spiritual guide, told him that he had a special [insert vague, other-worldly] job here on Earth.

Yes, our alien friends are coming to save you from the mundane, sir, don’t you worry.

Easy-peasy, right?  It wasn’t going to be published anywhere important.  The guy basically just wanted it, in writing, so that he could feed his ego. Ya know, re-read how special he was. He was uber importante’ in relation to the rest of us peons that weren’t from the Fifth Dimension, but solidly ground in reality.  The rest of us are stuck in perpetual servitude, that is, making the actual world go ’round.  I don’t know, maybe he wanted to pass it around, show his mama or friends or whoever.

Point being, I complete the audio portion, all giggles, and move on to editing.  *GROAN*  I realized that I was not consistent with some capitalization and punctuation, etc. and spent twice as much time agonizing over details than I should have.  My husband would call that a waste of money.  You know, that “time equals money” blather.

Apparently, that does not compute in my teeny, little hyper-focused brain of mine.   It is much more important for me to not miss that punctuation error that nobody cares about.  Curse you punctuation gods!

I am currently plugging away on an elephant of a job, that… It’s just too painful to talk about right now.  Just… no.  We can’t go there yet.

When they get on your last nerve…

 

I was all irritated with Froglet and I had a long post written complaining about it, but I decided to get a new attitude and play around with my movie maker.

 

 

I’m all cured of my bad mood.  Now I’m all warm and fuzzy inside.

Frogger’s got game!

Frogger plays as many sports as our time and money will allow.  One season, against my specific instructions, he signed up for baseball, track and band.  Never mind the time constraints, when was he going to eat, sleep or do homework?   With three other kids, how are we even going to manage getting him to and fro?

We do love to see him play.  When he was just a chubby little six-year old, he played basketball in the Upward Bounds program.  He knew nothing of the game except that there were kids, a ball and he got to run around.  He has always been a big guy and his gross motor skills took a while to catch up to his height.  (He was my height when he was in second grade.)   He was actually pretty terrible at basketball, clumsy and awkward.  But this kid was passionate!

Once, after he had been up all night with an asthma attack, he kept insisting that he couldn’t miss his basketball game.  “My teammates NEED me,  Mom!”

Except his teammates never even passed him the ball… ever.

So we suited up and patched him up the best we could and off we go.  During the first half of the game, he struggled to get up and down the court.  At halftime, I tried to convince him that he had done his best but he needed a rest.  He would have none of it.  I was groaning and cringing to myself about the consequences of pushing through the whole game.  I was a ball of nerves.

The second half of the game was the same story.  He was having a hard time breathing, struggling to go up and down the court and never got the ball.  All of a sudden, he stops, looks around and pulls something from his pocket.  At first, I thought it was his inhaler and he was going to use it right there in the middle of the game.   I took a closer look and was horrified to find that it was his Power Ranger nunchucks.

I guess he was bored with the game because he started practicing his ninja moves.  I hear the other parents in the crowd saying things like:  “What is that kid doing?!”  “What in the world…”  The laughter starts to rumble through the crowd and Jacob now thinks he’s now the star!  The more the crowd commented, pointed and laughed, the better he thought he was doing.  Frogger’s got game!

So he needed to work on his focus a little, but he had heart.

Frogger before the game

His current passion is Football.  Frogger plays left tackle on the offensive line at his high school.  He played last year, but was on the B team.  He worked diligently all summer by working out, eating right and sprouted another couple of inches.

We did a lot of talking about how he was going to organize his time and if he was going to try and fit Marching Band in with Football.  We talked about spreading himself too thin and being mediocre at many things or great at one.  I try to play the role of “supportive mom” and not try and worry about injuries and performance.  After all, it is HIS passion, not mine.

Football season comes around this year and he is prepared!  I see his excitement build as practices progress and his first game approaches.

Now that I have told the setting, tomorrow’s topic “Football Parents: Why are you yelling?  Is there a fire?”

Our super heros and their alter egos.

In our little corner of suburbia we have: Tadpole, Froglet, Frogger, Super Frog, Princess Frog, Mr. Magnanimous and The Director.  Primarily a musical group, everyone has a musical talent with the exception of Mr. Magnanimous and The Director.  Their main functions are the support and maintenance of the Froglets.  Just feeding and supporting this group is a copious task!

Click the tabs to review individual profiles and super skills.

Princess Frog

Click here to see Princess Frog.

Frogger

Click here to see Frogger.

Froglet

Click here to see Froglet.

Tadpole

Click here to see Tadpole.

Tell The Truth Tuesday

Tomorrow is “Tell the Truth Tuesday”.   All the froglets were shamed, shamed I tell you!  It’s going to be fun.

Check out all the other stuff I added to my blog (to the left and bottom.)

What fun this is!  I should have started a blog earlier.  By Thursday I should have all the froglet’s profiles up along with their super-powers.  Feels good, man.

Linda

The timid little froglet

She is hunkered down on my bed, rifling through her backpack making sure she has everything she needs for school that day.  My child, my pre-teen angel.  Her long wavy hair hangs in a perfect thick brown shield hiding her pained expression.  Her things now in perfect order, she slowly looks in my direction, tears brimming on her lashes.

“Mommy, I can’t do it.”  We’re talking about P.E., of course.  The quintessential nightmare of pre-teen girls everywhere.  “We have to run the whole time and I can’t even breathe!”  The discussion quickly turns into a detailed description involving dramatically dropping dead from oxygen deprivation.  Sweat droplets are actually acid and will burn right through her skin and eat her flesh until it reaches her bones.

I feel her angst.  I remember being 12 and feeling self-conscious and uncertain.  The inclination that everyone,  everywhere is watching your every move and taking notes.  We had to practice changing clothes for P.E. so that there was no exposed skin showing upon the removal of shirt and pants.  We had many discussions about the other girls feeling exposed and they would not be looking at HER changing, they are worried about her looking at THEM changing.

We talked about it so much that we were able to finally joke around.  Picking her up from school in the afternoons, “Did you get naked in gym today?”  “Not today,” was her pat answer.  Until about three weeks into school a triumphant Abby says to me, “We got naked in gym today!”  Success!  No more tears, fears and worries about changing in the locker room.

What do I do about this new problem?  The truth is, not much.  Abby is a shy, sensitive child.  If a teacher even speaks her name or a friend says “hello” in the grocery store, her face turns pink.  Here we are faced with the reality of running around a racetrack, in front of a group of her peers, huffing, puffing, sweating…  She doesn’t want to race or compete; she wants to live through what she sees as her public humiliation.  What’s a mom to do?  Write her a note of course….