tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57448054285335518202024-03-13T12:31:09.080-07:00My Heart Blogs To YouTheresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.comBlogger342125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-77833281395568156692023-09-21T09:59:00.000-07:002023-09-21T09:59:04.393-07:00Halloween Coloring Books! Get Yours Now in Time for Halloween!<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Just in time for Halloween! </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">2 Halloween coloring books!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As Summer ends and Autumn begins, we settle into a cozier time of year. The bewitching Halloween parties and costumes, Trick or Treat for the kiddos, and more indoor activities for the whole family. What better way to spend your time with your kids – or even by yourself, coloring? </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">OK, I know you can think of lots of other things to do with your time, but come on! Did you enjoy coloring as a kid? I did, and I still enjoy coloring – by myself or with my grandkids!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sooooo, here are two Halloween coloring books for you to explore. Now would be a good time to order them, because you'll receive them by Halloween.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Aww, did you miss the deadline? I have good news for you – Halloween is a yearly holiday!</span></p><h1 class="a-spacing-none a-text-normal" id="title" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(15, 17, 17); color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 28px; line-height: 36px; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><span class="a-size-extra-large celwidget" data-cel-widget="productTitle" data-csa-c-id="p7tm0k-ksisbr-wtq9m2-ex47gi" id="productTitle" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 36px !important; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGYTLT57" target="_blank">Some Ultra Scary, Very Scary, Not-So-Scary Monsters Coloring Book: Weird Monster Coloring Book</a></span></h1><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="a-size-extra-large celwidget" data-cel-widget="productTitle" data-csa-c-id="p7tm0k-ksisbr-wtq9m2-ex47gi" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 36px !important; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGYTLT57" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2550" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm1eUXbRA04YM3rRcoM2Dqbj8qK720DM_nvwot2x3mo0e1QYUQi3iE4BzCDnf10HVJ-2YIumKCzXbSRgyESAibvAe2n6tw8EU3E4Uj0JnGbXKajbDNOCi5S_OuFQAJaSumx4aW5wJwdg7QYdksX61XHDuMy889HvgB3Uml7QODzb94a_Xg2MwfQR0B8A/s320/Scary%20Monsters%20Front%20Cover.png" width="247" /></a></div></span></div><div><span class="a-size-extra-large celwidget" data-cel-widget="productTitle" data-csa-c-id="p7tm0k-ksisbr-wtq9m2-ex47gi" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 36px !important; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="a-size-extra-large celwidget" data-cel-widget="productTitle" data-csa-c-id="p7tm0k-ksisbr-wtq9m2-ex47gi" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 36px !important; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><h1 class="a-spacing-none a-text-normal" id="title" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(15, 17, 17); color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 28px; line-height: 36px; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><span class="a-size-extra-large celwidget" data-csa-c-id="rj8emf-hn50zm-b001ew-jdjqs5" id="productTitle" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 36px !important; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CFZQ9PY7" target="_blank">Halloween Coloring BOO! (book): Halloween Lovers Coloring Book</a></span></h1><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CFZQ9PY7" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="3240" data-original-width="2500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCfw7nuhII4EsPnuvEjo6WUVwEGgEE5jkOv54SjAb_AXKu9c8E-qgssySc4cgVxFT3yDd_wJ7SCTtZobmqhWOcrpIixZ9bP5iKP3xW_FO8Qr2L63ClLi8MnIIqiCnCPcttGfaTz3yEk3rEl1-_nd9S0gJ18nRMU2S5L4_guz8jhiS5FfqvgHa3ZXYlz8E/s320/HalloweenColoringBook%20Front%20Cover.png" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); color: #0000ee; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline;" width="247" /></a></div><div>Thank you for visiting! Have a great day and make it a great day for someone else! (<i>thank you Katherine</i>)</div><div><i>Find a little joy and sprinkle it everywhere!</i></div></span></div>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-27671861024379691472022-07-08T06:42:00.000-07:002022-07-08T06:42:35.186-07:00Fun Making Kaleidoscope Mandalas Using Affinity Photo<iframe style="background-image:url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/9WELvhhcTUY/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/9WELvhhcTUY" frameborder="0"></iframe>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-86671209394431015252022-01-17T07:45:00.002-08:002022-01-17T07:45:35.937-08:00Back, Neck, and Hip Pain Relief After 70 Years of Pain<p> For nearly my entire life, I have suffered from back pain. You might see me sitting on the floor of a department store, leaning over a cart at the grocery store, or just praying – for relief.</p><p>Fast forward 70 years and one amazing doctor recommends something that no other doctor (that I remember – I'm not really sure – my mind capacity is filled with Swiss cheese holes) has recommended. Could it help?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uShUawknfRg" width="320" youtube-src-id="uShUawknfRg"></iframe></div><br /><p>Drum roll, please! YES! Not only did it help, it offered amazing relief and a whole new outlook on life! The photos in the video shown above share exercises that were tailor-made for me and modified according to my ability to perform them. I show them in this video so that you can talk to your doctor about what exercises you can do to relieve your back, neck, and hip pain. Always consult your doctor before you begin exercises of any kind, but especially when you are already experiencing pain.</p><p>Here is the pad I use for balance. According to my physical therapists, balance becomes an issue when you become older, so to better balance your body, learning how to balance on one of these thick foam pads is very helpful.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=thejoyfulec07-20&language=en_US&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B07CP256RF&asins=B07CP256RF&linkId=a9bfc1aa65ae05397507c59e0e1fb92e&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I had to purchase the foam pad, but my physical therapists provided me with resistance bands. If you need resistance bands, here is a link for you:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=thejoyfulec07-20&language=en_US&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B07YHFC2SG&asins=B07YHFC2SG&linkId=ae40212ed7e7b2ae2c19aea958870759&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I cannot tell you how amazing I feel now that I've been exercising with only those two tools! Can you imagine? I'm 70 and I feel better today than I did when I was 19! And all I do is s-t-r-e-t-c-h!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I wish for all of you a healthy, pain-free life. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read my blog. Please find some joy today and sprinkle it everywhere.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/Seek-Joy-by-JoyfulEclectic/95427049.IJ6L0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw1Nid2Ibk9r16uIuPuHoW4x8JynWUeK-QiAb-ddYDkLmunf9_JOPBafriBKKwGmDfUoGDlrnbfVxeZwLkaCZBuF6FqijEAGDgnaUPGsgFsZsw3Vd7D4wwe-qRXcv5SodvRy6OUkH_FawmWvjOP6eoQxhxHaJ_3pKaExcUFQCz6o6bvNDk_2tztNKW=s320" width="315" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="background-color: white; color: #0e0e0e; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>“As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.”</i></span></span></p></div>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-51968626431520146582021-07-14T08:51:00.001-07:002021-07-14T08:51:11.239-07:00How to Cope With Depression and Suicidal Thoughts – a Helpful Journal<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to the World Health Organization (WHO), more than 260 million people</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">(more than 3%)</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> out of a </span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">global population of 7,846,000,000 </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">suffer from depression</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> worldwide</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">. Depression is a leading cause of disability and a major contributor to disease. The sad truth is that depression sometimes leads to suicide.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Healthline.com lists the following types of depression: major depressive disorder (depression felt most of the time); persistent depressive disorder (when depression lasts longer than two years, also known as dysthymia); bipolar disorder (formerly called manic depression, characterized by extreme mood changes); seasonal depression (referred to as SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, which generally occurs during the winter months due to lack of sunlight); postpartum depression (a type of depression that occurs following childbirth); and psychotic depression (represented by hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions).</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Suicide rates continue to rise</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> among all ages</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">, according to the Suicide Prevention Resource Center. And while many websites offer a variety of coping skills to manage depression, those who actually suffer from depression find advice like, <i>watch cute videos</i> and <i>learn how to be grateful for things and people in your life</i> is not really helpful because we've tried those methods and they haven't worked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">So what works? What besides therapy, which many of us cannot afford, can help us climb out of our depressive states and learn to find joy in our lives? The first thing we depressed people need to realize is that the choices we make are the most important factors in changing our lives and allowing us to find joy despite our depression. The motivation to make that change, when we feel that nothing matters anymore, is difficult and </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">sometimes</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> impossible. We feel overwhelmed and scattered.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Nobody wants to feel depressed, and everybody who suffers from depression wants to learn how to cope with it, but how? The prospect of handling our depression by ourselves is overwhelming. So let's break it down.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">How about making just one decision? If we find ourselves lying in bed day after day, for example, let's choose to put one foot on the floor. Then choose to put our other foot on the floor. One step at a time. Lie back down if we feel we have to and congratulate ourselves for taking that first step. But don't give up. We have to take one more step and one more step and then we have to choose to DO something – anything.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One exercise that might help us, and we don't even have to get out of bed to do it, is to record our moods in a depression journal that comes with a mood tracking calendar. Keep it, along with a pen, next to our beds. Who knows us better than we do? And by recording our daily – or sometimes hourly moods – in the journal, we might discover a pattern and learn what triggers us each day.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0991CGXYP" target="_blank">Journaling Help to Cope with Depression</a></b></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: georgia; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0991CGXYP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="952" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdRwYppuvAI5aHxpMn9oX2zIsPvt7E5w4aKLNj2OICtq3jeSrwhETQxFVyaLST0ZYf7mbMIrKcs3pLHGXuUAHzBiI08dkXmp2Qy2b748IwCLqXcm8ALGQPkfz1n60zrwP5OsMBKHBer4/s320/AmazonDepression+FrontCover.png" /></a> </div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The above journal gives a short background story about the author's experiences with depression and includes a mood tracking calendar, along with notes pages for you to record such information as YouTube videos you want to watch, books you want to read, advice you found helpful, and things you want to remember. The video below discusses a particular type of depression that affects many people, persistent depressive disorder (dysthymia),</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> mentioned above</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">.</span></p><h1 class="title style-scope ytd-video-primary-info-renderer" style="border: 0px; color: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-color, var(--yt-spec-text-primary)); font-family: "YouTube Sans", Roboto, sans-serif; font-variant: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-font-variant, inherit); line-height: 2.8rem; margin: 0px; max-height: calc(2 * var(--yt-navbar-title-line-height, 2.4rem)); overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-shadow: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-text-shadow, none); transform: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-transform, none);"><yt-formatted-string class="style-scope ytd-video-primary-info-renderer" force-default-style="" style="word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 6 Signs of High Functioning Depression</span></yt-formatted-string></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EUJ4j6_ypE0" width="320" youtube-src-id="EUJ4j6_ypE0"></iframe></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">If you live in North America, and you are suicidal, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. Go to Suicide.org for more information, and if you are in immediate danger, no matter where you live, call your local emergency number. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">When you have learned how to cope with your depression successfully, find a little joy and sprinkle it everywhere. We all need more joy in our lives.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">If you're still reading this blog, I invite you to watch my YouTube channel, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0g5TV_PpWQ5ESHEbDRaXkg" target="_blank">Joyful Eclectic Woman</a>. And if you would like to contribute to my <a href="https://paypal.me/CButterflyCreations?locale.x=en_US" target="_blank">Living My Life fund</a>, please click the link. </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As always t</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">hank you for visiting!</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-63693360408234733382020-02-14T07:23:00.001-08:002020-02-14T07:23:35.351-08:00Life is Sometimes a Series of Unfortunate Events<br />
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<br />Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-67151394080288699952019-11-04T07:41:00.000-08:002019-11-04T07:41:40.203-08:00Your Phone is on Vibrate and You Can't Find It! How To Find Your Phone Even if it's on Vibrate!<div style="text-align: center;">
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How many times have you lost your phone and had other people call it so you could find it? How many times have you retraced your steps to locate your missing phone? Guess what! I discovered a way to find my phone without any apps, without using my iPad, and without having people call me! Here is the discovery I made!</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-1936223993346594512019-11-04T06:50:00.001-08:002019-11-04T07:35:10.405-08:00Want to Look Younger as You Transition to Middle or Old Age? These 3 Tips Will Help!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nB1tkGJhKbI" target="_blank">3 Things That Will Help You Look Younger</a></span></div>
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Here's a hint – not just for men (watch the video to find out how)!</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-40532300646436165582019-10-31T16:48:00.001-07:002019-11-04T07:50:19.260-08:0025 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was Diagnosed with Breast Cancer<div style="text-align: center;">
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Oncologists provide a lot of information to their patients, but sometimes patients don't realize the impact of all of the information they've been provided. In this video I discuss 25 things I didn't expect when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-22327304057695271502019-10-18T17:30:00.001-07:002019-10-18T17:32:27.679-07:00Funny Grandkids 2 – 7 Stories<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XkHmR80cDvg" width="480"></iframe>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-20645577935495008092019-10-14T09:32:00.001-07:002019-10-14T09:32:15.127-07:00Funny Grandchildren 1<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HdRJos8HDso" width="480"></iframe>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-5890836015664801702019-09-20T12:18:00.001-07:002019-09-20T12:18:22.636-07:00How To Tell Loved Ones You Have Cancer<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aY0ZRVZO27c" width="480"></iframe>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-35974980042905662112019-09-13T07:03:00.000-07:002019-09-27T08:38:22.104-07:00Grandma, What Do You Do All Day?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Welcome to my YouTube Channel, <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0g5TV_PpWQ5ESHEbDRaXkg?" target="_blank">Youthful Aging for REAL Women</a></b></span>. For a lot of us, one thing that helps us feel more youthful is grandchildren, but when we retire, they wonder what we do all day.</div>
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<i>Thank you so much for visiting my blog. Have a beautiful day. Please find a little joy and sprinkle it everywhere!</i></div>
Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-60496524272037311332019-08-29T14:51:00.000-07:002019-08-29T14:51:13.831-07:00Thinking of Starting a YouTube Channel? Or Designing Your Own Products to Sell?Scary – really scary – I do NOT like being in front of a camera. I was raised during a time when nobody took selfies, when the word, selfies, didn't even exist in the dictionary. But when I started watching YouTube videos, I though maybe it was time to push myself out of my comfort zone and give being in <i>front</i> of the camera a shot – literally.<br />
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The first video I created was AWKWARD! I felt VERY uncomfortable, but I followed the advice of some YouTube content creators and made it anyway. I had to learn how to edit movies on iMovie, and I had to learn how to create a thumbnail. I had to learn how to convert pixels to inches so I could create banners and so much more. I spent MONTHS learning from some of the most educated and successful YouTubers and I did it! Here is my most recent YouTube creation (I'm a little more confident in this one than I was in the first video):<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_XeUn66l4g&t=6s" target="_blank">Hilarious Old People Embarrassing Senior Moments</a></span></b></div>
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When I felt fairly confident about continuing my YouTube channel, I discovered that I could make products to sell on that channel! I don't have enough views or subscribers yet, because I'm so new, but I investigated that prospect as well, and now I have a store with HUNDREDS of items listed! Here are 4 of them:<br />
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<a href="https://teespring.com/stores/youthful-aging-for-real-women" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="1600" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivb4KhJ_hV6BzeaoJZl-4GSWpGfcYVVIDRSjrnBPOLsFOyQ1xuGCDsnMKAR1ircIUoxVCIeVhu9ldqpIFLrxRznGEs0Ao0LI34_5sVvLxXkfZZ_MxYpK2x5yafDKAwGkzHgu0A2TNse7o/s400/Screen+Shot+2019-08-29+at+4.26.19+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Click the link of you want to see more products.</div>
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If you're interested in starting your own YouTube channel, make sure you learn from Creator Academy, Sean Cannell, Sunny Lenarduzzi, Gillian Perkins, and Video Influencers. </div>
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And if you're interested in selling items, such as t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and totes, watch videos made by Greg Gottfried and Jason Gandy. </div>
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Thank you for visiting. And before you go, make sure to find a little joy and sprinkle it everywhere!</div>
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<br />Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-19627942009223216182019-03-24T13:51:00.001-07:002019-03-24T13:51:11.665-07:00Dumb Ways to Die at a Park with Avery and LarissaThis video was created by one of my granddaughters and stars one of my other granddaughters and that granddaughter's best friend:<br /><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/q1033AyoK6s" width="480"></iframe>Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-60181393384999706702018-12-04T12:19:00.001-08:002018-12-05T05:53:19.006-08:00Oh NO! I Killed Buddy the Elf!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My youngest daughter and her husband asked me to watch their kids last weekend. They did NOT inform me of the <b>Elf on the Shelf</b> rules. So when I opened the refrigerator door and Buddy’s legs were in the way when I started to close the door, I moved his legs.</div>
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From behind me I heard the scream of my 7-year-old granddaughter. “NOOOO! You’re not supposed to touch Buddy!” </div>
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Frightened, I backed away from the refrigerator as I went into all-out defense mode. “I wasn’t touching him.”</div>
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“YES YOU WERE! I SAW YOU!”</div>
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“No, I was just moving his leg so I wouldn’t smash it in the refrigerator door. Do you want to see him with a cast on his leg? I wasn’t hurting him. I was saving him.”</div>
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That seemed to work. She calmed down.</div>
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Until yesterday – when she woke up – and found him still on the refrigerator. In my defense I was already home, so I take no responsibility for why he was still on the refrigerator.</div>
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“Grandma killed Buddy!” she sobbed to her parents when she discovered he hadn’t moved. Nothing her parents said appeased her and she spent the whole day thinking I had killed her beloved Buddy. </div>
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I knew nothing about any of the happenings yesterday, but I got a call today informing me of the rules about Buddy. Rule one – you can NOT touch him; otherwise he might die. Rule two (I found this one by looking online) – Buddy does not speak or move while you are awake. </div>
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Fortunately I have been forgiven, because as of this morning Buddy was alive and well. He had moved!</div>
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Lesson learned!</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-25769083877950006042017-09-04T06:16:00.000-07:002017-09-04T06:16:09.158-07:00Prahjuhdi?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Do you ever say to yourself, “I must be losing my mind,” and then one day realize that you have said that to yourself so many times, you might actually have lost it? </div>
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One of my granddaughters told me a few months ago that she wanted to go to projedy dot com. So I turned on my daughter’s and son-in-law’s computer, put in the password, went to the URL line and typed in – oh, wait, suddenly I couldn’t remember how to spell projedy or progidy. Was it with a j or a g and did it end with an e-d-y or i-d-y? Spellcheck didn’t like any of those spellings. </div>
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So I asked Siri. She didn’t like the word either. “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.” No, projedy, I repeated. And Siri repeated, “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.”</div>
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What the…?</div>
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Well, obviously, the site my granddaughter wanted to visit didn’t exist. She must have lost her mind as well. At 9! But she insisted that she had visited it before.</div>
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I wondered if she had dyslexia? Though I’ve never been diagnosed with it, I know I suffer from a mild form of it. Ah (lightbulb switches on), prodigy! </div>
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Problem solved. Now if only I can solve the toilet paper problem.</div>
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“We’re out of toilet paper,” that same granddaughter said to me earlier that day.</div>
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“Do you know where we keep it?” I asked her.</div>
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“Yes.”</div>
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Assuming that she was putting it in the dispenser, I later went into the bathroom and discovered that while she knew where we kept the toilet paper, she must have thought I just wanted to know if she knew, because not one roll went into the bathroom. </div>
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Thankfully my memory is not completely shot. Her toilet tissue situation reminded me of the time I asked my oldest daughter to wash the dishes. She washed the dishes, but left all the forks, spoons, knives, glasses, and bowls all over the counter and table. </div>
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With some people, I’ve learned, you need to be very specific.</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-2001008730552350402016-09-06T05:00:00.000-07:002016-09-06T05:00:23.196-07:00Watching TV With Grandma<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal;">
When I lived alone, my only television viewing options were 2 channels – CBS any time and ABC on days with no wind, meaning that I was able to watch ABC only about 3 days last year – the Midwest is not conducive to antennas. </div>
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So when I moved in with one of my daughters and her husband, because my tiny granddaughter still sleeps a lot, I investigated the plethora of channels available to me. One of the Nanny shows might be helpful – even though I have already raised 4 kids and have cared for numerous other children, including my own grandchildren. But, I reasoned, I love to learn and I am always open to learning new ways to guide children, so I started watching one of the Nanny shows.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My newest granddaughter, at 3 months, enjoys watching home renovation shows with me.</span></span></td></tr>
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Everything was going well until a baby cried – not in a whimpering pay-attention-to-me kind of way, but in an all-out nobody-ever-feeds-me-I’ve-been-born-into-the-wrong-family-and-I’m-scared-to-death kind of way. </div>
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My newest granddaughter empathizes when she hears other babies cry. Their pitiful cries bring her to tears every time, and not in the same way that vacuums scare her to tears – she has no compassion for vacuums. When she hears babies cry, she drops the corners of her mouth, sticks out her lower lip, and cries that quivering cry that tells you she is oozing with compassion, so <i>please</i> take care of that baby – <i>now</i>.</div>
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Lesson learned – no more Nanny shows for us. Instead I turned my attention to the HGTV channel. I had seen a couple of <b>Fixer Upper</b> and <b>Property Brothers</b> shows on <b>Netflix </b>(I even wrote about the cruelty of the <b><a href="http://humoroutcasts.com/2016/cruelest-tv-show-ever/" target="_blank">Property Brothers</a> </b>{on a comedy site – don't worry}), but now I could watch LOTS of home renovation shows – ALL DAY LONG if I wanted, and I wouldn’t have to worry about how they would be affecting my granddaughter! </div>
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Like watching caterpillars transform into magnificent butterflies, even the most damaged homes metamorphose into beautiful showplaces thanks to the construction and design crafters. What could possibly be wrong with introducing her to those kinds of shows? </div>
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Sorry I asked that question, because I began to wonder – is my granddaughter paying <i>too much</i> attention to those shows? Is she learning how to demolish and rebuild homes just by watching TV with me? </div>
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What if, when she learns manual dexterity, she decides to take a hammer to all the walls in her house? Will my daughter and her husband blame me? Or will they thank me? They have been talking about getting rid of the two tiny division walls that sit between the dining area and the living room anyway.</div>
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Hmm, I’d better consider the consequences…I might be paving the way for a future Flintstones Bam Bam!</div>
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In my own defense, I have to add that I'm usually crocheting when I'm not holding her, and she seems to be fascinated with what I'm "building" too, so maybe she'll be interested in learning lots of creative skills!</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-22646354516440922132016-04-04T05:02:00.000-07:002016-04-04T05:02:04.562-07:00Funny Things Grandkids Say, Part ? (I’ve lost count)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-nCGLorzXI6vkW1H1UvXwUTt-jNKbqBT-MCgpncfAmyw4KmPjK10VnZnb2ZMQsSP_1x0Hfuj3l2WROnsmtb2DodEQuXQfN457Go9R7JyYPKy39M-RLpLS-6NORj5lloVWXczj147-BM/s1600/AudreyCropDSCN1696+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-nCGLorzXI6vkW1H1UvXwUTt-jNKbqBT-MCgpncfAmyw4KmPjK10VnZnb2ZMQsSP_1x0Hfuj3l2WROnsmtb2DodEQuXQfN457Go9R7JyYPKy39M-RLpLS-6NORj5lloVWXczj147-BM/s400/AudreyCropDSCN1696+%25281%2529.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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Inside the many blogs I’ve written on <b>My Heart Blogs to You</b> sit cute and funny things my kids and grandkids have said over the years. One blog I almost forgot to write is this short story:</div>
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A little background first – if you are reading this blog for the first time, I need you to know one thing – I forget things – a lot. So when I remember them, I often blurt out, “Oh!” because that’s the first word that pops into my head.</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So on this particular day, while I was talking to three of my grandchildren, and I forgot what I was talking about, I blurted out my customary, “OH!” when I remembered what I wanted to say. 11-year-old Audrey immediately broke into song, “Say Can You See!”</span></div>
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And now, on a more solemn note, I leave you with this memory:</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-60852883478973749652016-04-03T04:54:00.002-07:002016-04-03T04:54:36.361-07:00Kid Crushes and Puppy Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQohwVg5oCpl8lfSNdY3mUkWNyms_lP2Nlc4SuxblBtRql2G-BidBuP5hZ06N2ioc3CsPyk5RH345dgM9kfZvyP0lPFi3_tMo-F5teWh4sAC6EoKD2c6dgUJ92_Ey9nkNtfMqgNu3LFM/s1600/valentine-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQohwVg5oCpl8lfSNdY3mUkWNyms_lP2Nlc4SuxblBtRql2G-BidBuP5hZ06N2ioc3CsPyk5RH345dgM9kfZvyP0lPFi3_tMo-F5teWh4sAC6EoKD2c6dgUJ92_Ey9nkNtfMqgNu3LFM/s400/valentine-wallpaper.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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One of my 8-year-old grandsons told me yesterday, with a gigantic smile on his face, that he had a crush on a little girl who was “perfect” for him.</div>
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“Is she in your grade?” I asked.</div>
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“She’s in my class!” He was exuberant.</div>
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“How is she perfect?” I wanted to know.</div>
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“She’s polite and she plays sports,” he responded.</div>
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“Does she like you, too?”</div>
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“I think so. One of my friends asked me if I liked her, because he said she liked me. We smile at each other a lot.”</div>
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“I wish I could see what she looks like.”</div>
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“You can! My mom found her.”</div>
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“On Facebook?”</div>
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All he had was a last name. 100,000 other people had the same last name. But Facebook apparently looks through all of your friends and their friends and dwindles the top contenders down to less than a dozen. He found her mom, but I couldn’t access her photos unless I friended her. Smart mom. I like this little girl already.</div>
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Then my grandson remembered that he had a picture of her on his iPad. She looks very sweet. He was smiling proudly as he showed me her photo.</div>
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“Who knows? Maybe when you’re older, you’ll be able to date her.”</div>
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“My dad said that my sisters aren’t allowed to kiss a boy until they’re 19, but I can kiss a girl whenever I want to, and my Mom said, ‘What? No!’” He and his sisters laughed.</div>
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Add another 8 years to the 8 years he’s been living, and he’ll be driving a car and possibly dating his kid crush – or they’ll be attending each other’s sporting events. Either way, Grandma will be watching!</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-91322743824575626512016-02-09T06:11:00.000-08:002016-02-09T06:12:52.878-08:00Laughing in the Ozark<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal;">
Last year, my daughter won a week at a timeshare in the Ozark, so she invited my son and me to join her, her husband, and their daughter. The area was beautiful. Outside any bedroom window and from the deck you could see the lake.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_xP72FjqTJpDxh1IdUiVBlr1C86U9fAOhvxNTZJ-7yPFu9_jJf0jd9vyqLV1f6HrfcYBDhtFUOWo4Tm-HYEh9eADWfvIYwqyaNxHzeWA_V5_6Q9W3TV9SW_PyEZSCgJFsXP2laOuy5o/s1600/DSCN1877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_xP72FjqTJpDxh1IdUiVBlr1C86U9fAOhvxNTZJ-7yPFu9_jJf0jd9vyqLV1f6HrfcYBDhtFUOWo4Tm-HYEh9eADWfvIYwqyaNxHzeWA_V5_6Q9W3TV9SW_PyEZSCgJFsXP2laOuy5o/s400/DSCN1877.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Every morning I would awaken before anybody else, quietly make the coffee, and slip onto the deck with my laptop and coffee in hand. After a while I would hear the bustling from the condo, usually as a result of 7-year-old Myraiah finding my son’s candy pumpkins and Greg confiscating them and hiding them from her again and again. They both played hide ’n seek with those pumpkins the whole time.</div>
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The only problem with the condo was that it had only 3 bedrooms. My daughter and son-in-law took the master bedroom, my granddaughter was supposed to sleep in the middle room with the bunk beds, and the last room at the other end of the condo was left for my son and me to share – it held two queen beds and a bathroom.</div>
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Myraiah didn’t want to sleep alone though, so she shared my queen bed with me. And she complained about the bed, which sounded with every move like boulders rolling over cellophane-covered crackers – without the box.</div>
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So while my son and I were talking and moving on our separate beds, we would hear Myraiah, who was trying to sleep, say, “SHHHH!”</div>
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And we would laugh. And she would get angry and reprimand us again, which would cause us to laugh even harder, which would cause her to SHHHH even more vehemently.</div>
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“I mean it! Stop it!” she scolded. And then to my son, she added, “I’ll take away your pumpkins.”</div>
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Well, that caused us to roar with laughter. So I told her she could probably get better sleep if she slept in the bunk bed room, but she flatly refused to sleep alone.</div>
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The following night she got aggravated with my son and me again for laughing and decided she wanted to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. So we told her it was OK, but she argued that the room was too far away.</div>
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“It’s just down the hall,” I told her. “It won’t take you long to get there.”</div>
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“Yes, it will,” she argued.</div>
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“No, really, it won’t. You can be there in seconds.”</div>
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And she responded, “But not if you go in slow motion.”</div>
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My son and I exploded with laughter. </div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-89028433002208852332016-01-31T06:26:00.000-08:002016-01-31T06:26:10.054-08:00A Week With Good Guys, Bad Guys, and Monsters<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal;">
Every morning for the past eight days while their parents vacationed in Mexico, I made breakfast for 3 of my grandkids. On mornings when no clouds filled the sky, the Sun greeted me in their kitchen, not in a soft, “hello – good morning” kind of way, but in a “GOOD MORNING! HERE’S A HEADACHE” way. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the Sun, but not when its rays penetrate my eyes so deeply they blind me to the point where I can see nothing else. Here is what the kitchen looked like as I felt my way to the sink, counter, and stove.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRSMYkgooRM8B5HgKgkKmtgHFYHPL4BS8QkLbLs2qLgMMYdabsY2tpQXpEE42dCzAKX_ASntQH3OcJR8xS_uspLbMiL6mDM6Fv0yqjTzENz1866-JAXOwwfvH3If-2OBdUdWJF3QriEw/s1600/BlindingSun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRSMYkgooRM8B5HgKgkKmtgHFYHPL4BS8QkLbLs2qLgMMYdabsY2tpQXpEE42dCzAKX_ASntQH3OcJR8xS_uspLbMiL6mDM6Fv0yqjTzENz1866-JAXOwwfvH3If-2OBdUdWJF3QriEw/s400/BlindingSun.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun Through Window</td></tr>
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You might be asking, “Why didn’t you close the blinds or the drapes?” Good question. The problem is that my daughter and son-in-law have no window coverings in their kitchen, so I had to walk around the kitchen backwards and cover my eyes as I walked around. Sitting at the snack bar didn’t help, either, because the sun reflected off the gleaming silver refrigerator. And in the evenings, when I made dinner, the sun shone through the western window and reflected off the refrigerator, so standing at the snack bar counter was just as blinding. I went through more Advil Migraine this week than I have – ever – and not because of my grandkids, but because of the blinding sun.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhGXNl22YH4vy0dV52D4Lbt-8g1jcLGqk8V1t_DveNz8FbX7CGfbDL3EANeduyThNvPcCCRF0aPGALb0UUp34Hgquino7gLg9O8TKwCEPOUup_BIuEko_Vrk6VkgCQz1WouX2Sb7dO_g/s1600/FridgeReflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhGXNl22YH4vy0dV52D4Lbt-8g1jcLGqk8V1t_DveNz8FbX7CGfbDL3EANeduyThNvPcCCRF0aPGALb0UUp34Hgquino7gLg9O8TKwCEPOUup_BIuEko_Vrk6VkgCQz1WouX2Sb7dO_g/s400/FridgeReflection.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refrigerator Reflection</td></tr>
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Five of those days involved getting the kids ready for school, washing dishes, washing clothes, drying clothes, and folding laundry all day, making meals, and then helping the two older ones with homework when they returned home from school. One of them had so much homework that long after Nolan completed his homework, Audrey spent THE ENTIRE AFTERNOON AND EVENING completing hers. What kind of teacher sends kids home with so much homework that all they can do is work work work work work? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXN3ELJntodyQyK4_qhx-z2K3m9Wh8yoEeei_rKKkFW2JagSyA-RdZOIcT35ZthDpN8bOXxTqwaHnL-aNPXaqIcz6h-QPjqVwWuZX8_h6lQHPs2pzwc0KHtgxiGGR25IgLfyYxmL2G14s/s1600/Electronis%2526Homework.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXN3ELJntodyQyK4_qhx-z2K3m9Wh8yoEeei_rKKkFW2JagSyA-RdZOIcT35ZthDpN8bOXxTqwaHnL-aNPXaqIcz6h-QPjqVwWuZX8_h6lQHPs2pzwc0KHtgxiGGR25IgLfyYxmL2G14s/s400/Electronis%2526Homework.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Audrey doing homework (as always) while Nolan and Avery play electronics.</td></tr>
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I once had a teacher in fourth grade who sent me home with so much homework that I spent every afternoon and evening until bedtime doing it. My mother hated how time-consuming it was, but I don’t think she ever complained to Mother Superior about it. With my flashback to that time in my own life, I found myself getting angry at Audrey’s teacher for being so ignorant of the fact that a fifth grader shouldn’t have to spend 6 hours a night doing homework.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhMOkNKI-vV4upEm1HXUPGRt1UXnUlaJ9c_5PEXVfmu0slTKGp-wW1p4aEx_ZiMJGyCk-eGbf_XB6q_PNy7tKjT253BetFDbFJ1nVV7PhboaVPn8PNEkm6lCxJ-1EtVMTKoJHfaeRBNk/s1600/BadGuyMonsters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhMOkNKI-vV4upEm1HXUPGRt1UXnUlaJ9c_5PEXVfmu0slTKGp-wW1p4aEx_ZiMJGyCk-eGbf_XB6q_PNy7tKjT253BetFDbFJ1nVV7PhboaVPn8PNEkm6lCxJ-1EtVMTKoJHfaeRBNk/s400/BadGuyMonsters.jpg" width="378" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avery's Drawing of Monsters and Bad Guys</td></tr>
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Anyway, during the day I spent time with Avery, playing with stuffed animals, coloring, playing hide ’n seek, etc. I found this drawing behind her door and asked her what it was. One day she told me it was monsters. When I asked her if she named her monsters, because I saw letters above them, she said, “No, Grandma, those are just letters.” OK. A couple of days later, though, when I mentioned the monsters, she said they weren’t monsters – they were bad guys, so now I know who the monsters are!</div>
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And the good guys? My grandkids, of course! They seriously were so good, the week went by almost too quickly! It was so much fun, but it was also exhausting. I slept for 10 hours last night.</div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-35003239994537045342015-12-31T04:39:00.001-08:002021-12-15T16:20:27.248-08:00The Hat and the iPad<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQFIVlKK-K5ybQThYqTkh-qvnNNl42bIX0NtPkwWxnaaUP2qLyHjzvZbBtu0lVHJVmJAKMDgcc_NSIUXXlK4ZEmL1VmwQeX-7Z8Q72xaQjszonL5IkWlNllycePE8bV5CDQ7ktxci13A/s1600/ChristmasGifts%2526Avery.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQFIVlKK-K5ybQThYqTkh-qvnNNl42bIX0NtPkwWxnaaUP2qLyHjzvZbBtu0lVHJVmJAKMDgcc_NSIUXXlK4ZEmL1VmwQeX-7Z8Q72xaQjszonL5IkWlNllycePE8bV5CDQ7ktxci13A/s400/ChristmasGifts%2526Avery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avery sitting with most of the Christmas presents I made.</td></tr>
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A couple of days before one of my family Christmas get-togethers, I grabbed any available box I could find so I could wrap my handmade crocheted items and jewelry gifts. I was running out of options, though, so I grabbed my old iPad box for Avery’s gift, forgetting about the story I’d heard only days before:</div>
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<i>10-year-old Audrey, Avery’s sister, had a broken iPad and she asked Buddy, the family’s Elf-on-the-Shelf, if he could fix it. Miraculously the next morning, the iPad was fixed!</i></div>
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<i>4-year-old Avery, upon learning about how Buddy had fixed her sister’s iPad wondered out loud, “How come Buddy didn’t fix </i><b><i>my</i></b><i> iPad?” Mom and Dad exchanged glances. Avery’s iPad was graveyard material – waaaaaaay beyond the repair stage. </i></div>
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Soooo, when Avery opened her gift from me, she exuberantly exclaimed, “I got an iPad?!” She was practically dancing in her seat.</div>
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She ripped open her present and found – a hat, a hand-crocheted hat. Biggest letdown ever, but trooper that she is, she didn’t complain. From other family members, however, I heard, “Way to go, Grandma, break a little girl’s heart!”</div>
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Oh, yeah, uh oh, I forgot.</div>
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Oops!</div>
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That event occurred on December 19th. A couple of days later, a little girl approached Avery’s dad when he was working a couple of towns away, and asked him if he wanted to purchase a raffle ticket for – some organization – I can’t remember what (there goes that memory again). He did, and then he forgot about it. (I’m not the only one who forgets.)</div>
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A couple of days later somebody knocked on the door to my grandkids’ home and when my son-in-law opened it, he found a stranger standing on his front step, holding a package for him. </div>
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“You won the raffle!” </div>
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So on Christmas morning, when Avery opened her presents and found another iPad box (I laugh just thinking about it), I wonder what went through her head. Would she ever again be able to trust that what she was about to open was a fair representation of what was depicted on the outside of the box, or was this another form of deception? I wonder if she asked herself, “Am I getting another hat?”</div>
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<i>Afterword: When I met with a few more grandchildren a couple of days later, I made sure to write a message on the outside of their boxes: “Don’t be deceived by the packaging.” Good thing, because not knowing that one of my grandsons had broken his phone, I had folded his scarf inside an old Walmart phone box.</i></div>
Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-91562958765460955112015-12-01T06:47:00.000-08:002015-12-01T06:47:58.672-08:00Logic of a 4-Year-Old<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal;">
Three days a week, I care for my 4-year-old granddaughter, Avery, and we sometimes play games. Yesterday we played BINGO. She loves to spin the wheel, and getting her to look at the little balls teaches her how to recognize numbers and match them to numbers on her card.</div>
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The last time we played, I won. Yesterday, as Avery’s card filled up and mine sat nearly empty, I laughed when I looked at my 3 numbers and compared my card to Avery’s, whose card was filled with so many numbers, she was one number away from winning two BINGOs. </div>
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Knowing how games go sometimes, I laughed, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I won after all, even though your card is nearly full?” She looked at me with one of those looks that told me she very clearly knew she was going to win and that what I had just said was preposterous. Responding with an emphatic, “No!” I realized that my winning at that point would not have been funny to her – at all. Fortunately she won. </div>
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We ate lunch and Avery went to the bathroom. We usually have a quiet (not nap) time after lunch when we grab pillows and blankets, recline on the couch, and watch an afternoon movie, but I soon learned that Avery had other plans. </div>
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“I think I peed my pants,” she said. I told her that she probably didn’t because she had just gone potty. She insisted that she had peed her pants and that she had to take a bath. So I set up a bubble bath for her and neatly folded her clothes, so they wouldn’t wrinkle. </div>
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As I grabbed her underpants, so I could wash them, I noticed something. Her underpants weren’t even a little bit wet, so I immediately realized I had been roped into giving her a bath that she didn’t need (I learned later that she had had a bath just before she came over). As she sat in the tub, surrounded by bubbles, happily playing with bath toys, I held up her panties and said, “Avery, your pants aren’t even a little bit wet.” </div>
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“I know.”</div>
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“So why did you tell me they were wet?”</div>
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No answer.</div>
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She didn’t need to answer. I knew why she lied about them being wet, so I told her that the next time she wanted to take a bath, she just had to tell me. She didn’t have to lie about having wet pants. “OK?”</div>
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“OK.”</div>
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And, good grandma that I am, I wrapped her up in a towel and took out my blow dryer to warm her up. Maybe I make bath time too comfortable for her.</div>
Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-82233476893824787052015-10-27T07:52:00.000-07:002015-10-27T07:52:20.852-07:00Going Back in Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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From 1969, when my first child was born, to 2002, when my youngest child graduated high school, I cared for children, mostly alone, because I married two men who contributed virtually nothing to caring for a family (I know I sound bitter, but I’m not – I just made stupid decisions, which actually turned out to be OK, because four beautiful children and lots of amazing grandchildren resulted from those decisions).</div>
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I spent several more years providing care not only for my own kids and grandkids, but also for other children. I usually had a job or two in addition to providing day care, and when I got cancer in 2009, I went on disability and, thanks to the cancer, was able to retire.</div>
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<i>Retirement</i> – whatever it is you think that word means, know this, it’s not at all what you might envision. I saw myself sitting in a lakehouse overlooking the lake from my screened-in porch as I penned my books and drank coffee or iced water with lemon. Ahh, serenity. </div>
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<i>Retirement, like my home on the lake, turned out to be a fantasy.</i></div>
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The reality is that I’m just as busy now as I ever was during those 32 years caring for children (actually busier since I give myself tons of projects to complete), and I’m remembering that busy <i>with kids</i> is an entirely different experience than busy <i>without kids</i>. About two to three times a year I get to experience being both Mom and Dad – again – but those two to three times a year these days allow me to replay that role with three of my grandchildren. </div>
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How soon Grandma forgets what is entailed from the moment my grandkids awaken in the morning, as I scurry to prepare breakfasts, make sure they brush teeth and hair, pick out clothes for them to wear, pack lunches and backpacks, send the two oldest ones off to school and spend the entire morning and afternoon entertaining the youngest child until they return.</div>
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Then it’s homework – and WOW has homework changed – did every educator out there have a meeting and decide, “Let’s complicate math to the point where it drives everyone crazy! No more simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division – uh uh – let’s add a thousand more steps to each problem!” No wonder homework takes so long these days. Here’s how I see the way math was taught when I was growing up compared to the way math is taught today:</div>
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The Old Days</div>
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Problem – go to the top of the tree.</div>
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Solution – climb the tree to get to the top.</div>
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Today</div>
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Problem – go to the top of the tree.</div>
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Solution – climb the tree halfway, jump to a branch on a different tree, follow the branches until they reach almost to the next tree, jump on that tree, climb that tree to the top, hop around the forest several times until you return to the original tree, jump on one of the lower branches, hop up to one of the higher branches, flip over to a different tree, climb that tree to the top, then return to the original tree and go to the top of that tree.</div>
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Well, that’s how math seems to be to me today anyway. After homework, we have dinner (or not, because one of the kids might be practicing some sport that night), attend after-school activities, take showers or baths, if possible (homework for the oldest takes nearly the entire night, due mostly to math problems), and if we have time, we squeeze in some fun (by that time, I’m so exhausted, though, fun time means movie time), then we make sure everyone brushes his or her teeth, puts on pajamas, and then we all go to bed, where I will attempt, but will fail miserably, at getting alone time, because I will fall asleep.</div>
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I usually think I’m doing fairly well until some “crisis” occurs, and all four of us might spend an hour looking for somebody’s tablet or try to calm down whoever is arguing after a quarrel. Or Grandma might forget something – one time I sent the two oldest kids to school with yogurt and no spoons. No problem, I later discovered – schools today provide spoons! Crisis averted! Success for Grandma!</div>
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<span style="color: black;">Little crises occur every now and then too, like the time (then) 10-year old Audrey spent the night at a friend’s house. Nolan, who was 7 at the time, and Avery, who was 3, decided to sleep together in Nolan’s bunk bed. However, </span>Avery couldn't figure out how to get her mammoth stuffed animal to fit on Nolan's twin mattress. Because she used that big-as-a-child stuffed animal as her pillow, she HAD to have her pillow! And because it was a late night for them, Avery sobbed when she discovered she couldn’t position the animal in a way that was comfortable for her without knocking her brother off the bed. Fortunately, minutes later she was sound asleep.</div>
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Beginning on Halloween, I will again play Mom and Dad. Once again, every organizational ability I have will be put to the test, though my daughter has assured me that she has made every effort to streamline <i>my</i> work, going so far as to bribe the kids with money to keep their rooms clean (insert smiley face) and set up clothes for the school week. </div>
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Will everybody get to where they are supposed to be when they are supposed to be there? Will clothes and sports uniforms be freshly washed? Will meals be prepared on time? Will I know how to help with homework? Has common core math taken on an even newer dimension? I mean, will I need to know how beings from other solar systems teach math? Martian Math, anyone?</div>
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So I’ll deal with the cooking, cleaning, laundry, homework, sibling rivalry, rushing to get ready in the morning, rushing to finish homework in the evening, and watch the kids try to trick Grandma into staying up late every night. </div>
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But then I’ll also have moments like the last time I cared for them, when Avery ran up to me while I was folding towels and hugged me tightly. I dropped the towel and hugged her back, saying, "How much do I love you?" And Avery responded, "Free." </div>
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Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744805428533551820.post-17508494530156882262015-10-16T05:56:00.002-07:002015-10-16T05:56:41.802-07:00Mom's Favorite Flower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUuvLcQb0rkEeuLfiHElPls8aNLvQ_opI47JVetLzzTqEICljCJ2ya5b8HPzl8zbW0tHxjmE6JhIjo6iNM8azQvkCmT3gGZvAc9rWe0SV4GKJnvug78wNExNcTCX88ENxDEOHKgmCB84/s1600/Dandelion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUuvLcQb0rkEeuLfiHElPls8aNLvQ_opI47JVetLzzTqEICljCJ2ya5b8HPzl8zbW0tHxjmE6JhIjo6iNM8azQvkCmT3gGZvAc9rWe0SV4GKJnvug78wNExNcTCX88ENxDEOHKgmCB84/s320/Dandelion.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>
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What you are about to read is something I wrote several years ago. I published it first on one website, which disappeared into cybermist and then on another that, for reasons not necessary to explain, I vacated. Because this post brings back special memories and because my son is now home, I wanted to post it again – for me and for anyone else who receives these precious gifts.</div>
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One of My Favorite Memories</div>
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<i>originally written May 10, 2009</i></div>
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Gentle breezes and a warm sun play across my face as I monitor my children from our front step.</div>
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Though he is not allowed to wander far, my son rounds the corner and hands me a beautiful red rose, obviously from a neighbor's garden.</div>
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Not to be outdone, his older sister hands me another beautiful flower, probably from the same neighbor's garden.</div>
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My 3-year old, unaware of where her older siblings found these treasures, searches and searches until, beaming with pride, she emerges from the corner of the house to drop remnants of dead dandelions in my hand.</div>
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I fawn over them as I did over the other gifts bestowed upon me by my babies.</div>
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Years later, I sit in a Dairy Queen parking lot with my youngest daughter, when a little girl approaches my window. Her father smiles bashfully as he watches his daughter hand a perfect stranger a precious gift, a memory. The dandelion sits in my palm, a lovely reminder of that warm sunny day when my children placed their gifts in my hand.</div>
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Today my grandchildren - their parents the givers of more than a dozen bouquets of dandelions - carry on the tradition. I gratefully place each droopy dandelion in a glass, careful not to drown the bugs flitting around the yellow flowered weed.</div>
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My children are grown now. I miss our daily contacts, especially those with my Marine son who is often stationed overseas or living across the country. I long for the day he comes home.</div>
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And if he brings me nothing else, I would welcome with laughter and tears another red rose, or even a handful of bug-infested dandelions, my favorite "flower."</div>
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<br />Theresa Wizahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09991340792082953965noreply@blogger.com0