A while ago, I wrote a post about going to see a Bobs and Lolo show on Family day. I was totally thrilled when Bobs and Lolo actually read it, and offered to send me a copy of their new CD to review. I agreed, they sent me a copy*, and we've been listening to it every day ever since.
I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I love them. They make music for kids that is educational and enjoyable for both parents and kids. They perform a variety of different styles on this CD, and I can honestly say there's not a single song that I don't like. Although, I might be a little embarrassed to be caught singing "Poo Poo" in the lineup at the bank. (Incidentally, one of my kids' favourite songs - what is it with kids and poop?)
As well as the new CD, they've got a new show, "Sing, Dance and Play with Bobs and Lolo", airing on Treehouse! To find out when you can catch them, check out the Treehouse website.
It happened again. I let it get away from me. Let me fill you in on my recent, not so successful, blog writing attempts.
Day 1: Make tea. Sit down at computer. Log in to Blogger. Promise myself that I'm just "checking in" on Facebook. Play Farmville... Realise I have to go pick up Kee.
Day 2: Make tea. Sit down at computer. Log in to Blogger. Notice a backlog in my reader. I'll just take a quick look at some blogs... Realise I have to go pick up Kee.
Day 3: Make tea. Sit down at computer. Log in to Blogger. Remind myself to check my email to see if that email came yet. Click a link in an email... Realise I have to go pick up Kee.
Day 4: Make tea. Sit down at computer. Log in to Blogger. Remember that I was supposed to look at something for someone on a Pinterest board... Realise I'm late to go pick up Kee.
You can see where this is going, right? On the days that I've actually been able to sit down at the computer for more than ten minutes, I've been disappearing down the fascinating rabbit hole that is the internet. Two hours goes by SO quickly when you're not really paying attention.
Today, instead of checking on my goats or looking up how to applique circles, I came straight here. And that seems to be the (admittedly obvious) trick.
A myriad of wonderful things have happened this month. Kee turned five (ohmygod). The girls were flower girls in my cousin's wedding (so cute). My husband got me the BEST anniversary present ever** (not a mug in a basket). We went to the annual fun fair and it didn't suck (I stayed away from the class baskets).
I have pictures of a lot of these things. On my good camera. Because it takes better pictures than my handy camera. Unfortunately, I've also lost the cable that allows me to get said beautiful pictures off the camera and into the computer where I can upload them to enliven my blog posts.
Which means I have to find it. Which, in turn, means I have to look in the most unlikely of places and (hopefully) clean as I go. Which could take a while. A very long while. I mean, seriously, you should see this place. Dammit, I need to post a picture.
But I promise (you and myself) that I will be writing more regularly. Hopefully, with pictures.
*Thank you for all your support, by the way. I love you guys! :) **Requires pictures.
I'm a generally positive person. I can find the goodness and beauty in almost anyone. I can easily forgive others for their mistakes and misunderstandings.
But I am mean to myself.
I have a voice, a constant running commentary in the back of my head, telling me I'm not good enough.
It sneers at me when I put on a movie for the kids because I just can't stand to play Candyland one more time. When I try on a pair of pants that doesn't fit anymore, it tells me how weak-willed and lazy I am. It supposes that my husband might leave me for someone more interesting, more attractive, or who can at least manage to get dinner on the table. It tells me that I can't call myself an artist or writer, because what I do isn't "real" art. It tells me that I'm not good enough. Or smart enough. Or brave enough.
Most of all, it tells me that I deserve to feel this way.
I am going to stop listening to that voice.
I'm going to try to hear, instead, the quiet voice that breaks through sometimes and tells me that I'm okay. The one that tells me I've done a good job. The one that tells me I'm funny and kind. The one that tells me I am doing the best I can. The one that says my children know how much I love them, and feel safe and secure. The one that tells me my husband loves the person I am, no matter what package I come in. The one that tells me I create beautiful things.
I'm going to do that for me, and I'm going to do that because there are two little girls watching me. I see myself in them more every day; in the turn of a phrase, or the tilt of a head. And I want to see people who are capable of being proud of what they are, instead of drowning in feelings of inadequacy because of what they feel they aren't.