Alright so I’ve decided that I have until midnight on Sunday each week to make a post. I can make as many as I want throughout the week but I have to make AT LEAST ONE by midnight on Sunday.
If I utterly fail at this task, please feel free to berate me and humiliate me in any way you deem necessary until I get back on track.
Technically, I’ve already completed this goal for the week but I’ll probs have at least one more tomorrow.
Hugs, y’all.
I am the worst blogger ever.
Okay, that’s probably a little over dramatic.
When I set up this blog I decided I wouldn’t have a deadline because I didn’t want to make this blog my whole life, I could post as little or as much as I wanted. But lately that seems to be running more to the “as little” end of the spectrum. I go on little writing sprees where I post a lot and then massive dry spells. The dry spells are usually a result of busyness and feeling like I have nothing to say.
And the truth is… I really don’t have anything important to say.
When I write, I typically write things that I think will amuse others and make them smile. I try to keep it all so light and fluffy. I realized a long time ago that not many people actually want to know the deep things inside other people. I think social media has a lot to do with that. We all work so hard to put on our best face on the internet. In fact, so many people put on an even better face on social media than what’s actually going on in reality. It’s the game, baby, and that’s the way the game is played. So keeping it skin deep, all nice and pretty in a funny little package… that can be so hard to do sometimes. Every little cream cheesy thing I think about posting seems so D-U-M-B, dumbah.
Idk when I’ll write again but I want to write more. I think of things to post all the time. I might actually set a deadline for myself. Make this thing a weekly after all, forcing me to write something and post it. I’ll get back to you on that for sure.
Anyway, I’m gonna peace out.
Have a lovely life.
It’s story cube time again in school, my friends. If you enjoy a good tale made up of random ideas drawn from 9 picture die and told by an 11 year old and an 8 year old (with the help of their clever mother), then this is the story for you.
I now present to you: The Funny, Little Elf and The Ghost
Once upon a time, there was a mysterious lock… on a door… in a house. No one knew what the lock went to. It was magical. Now, there was a funny little elf. This elf would take his funny little elf bike and ride around the neighborhood until one day he saw a new house. It was mysterious and weird to him because he knew all the houses in the neighborhood, he knew everyone in the neighborhood and he knew everything about the neighborhood. He went up to this mysterious, new house and knocked on the door. When no one answered right away, he tapped his foot loudly and huffed then knocked impatiently, even louder. Suddenly, a ghost answered the door and went “Bbblllllbblblblbllll!!!” The elf jumped practically out of his skin! He was confused by all this and annoyed but mostly confused.
He went home to ponder the meaning of it all. He pulled out this lucky abacus. It always gave him the correct answers to the most difficult math questions so he was sure it could help him solve the mystery of the new house with the magical lock. He stared at the abacus for days. Finally, he knew what to do. The abacus told him to fly a rocket up into space and look down on the earth and say, “What’s wrong with you world?” He had to do this because the abacus told him to.
When he came back down to earth from space, he landed on his house (with a mouse in it) and crushed both the house and the mouse. (It was a sad day for the mouse’s family.) He was extremely mad about all this so he found a tree with a large tree trunk, big enough carve an entirely new house out of the trunk. He decided to live in the tree from then on.
However, while all this was fun, it still hadn’t helped him solve the mystery of the house with the magical lock. He knew he needed to look for clues. So he dressed in his very best Sherlock Holmes costume and began to search the neighborhood for clues that would tell him the secret of the house.
First, he talked with a tree that had a face. The tree said, “Bblbllblblblblblbl!” The elf replied, “Oogie, oogie, oogie.” To which the tree said, “Well, sir, I don’t know anything about the house other than that there is an old man living in the house that died yesterday!” At this the tree used his mighty branches to push the elf down into a mud puddle. Now, the elf’s feet were ever so dirty, as well as the rest of him, but mostly his feet. He went to go wash off his dirty feet and happened to find some footprints… covered in gold! He picked up the golden footprints and made millions of dollars.
With his newfound wealth, he hired the world’s best living detective, Batman. Batman called the Justice League and they all went over to the mysterious house to solve the mystery. What they found has astounded everyone who has heard this tale. They found a….
And then the funny little elf, grew to be an old man. He never told anyone what they found. But he did move into the house and had lots of girly tea parties with the ghost.
The End.
It’s Mother’s Day. The one day a year we acknowledge how truly amazing our moms are. We make lists of how awesome they are and include lots of tear jerking items like:
Blah, blah, blah… Moms are the shizz. And they are. I have had 3 moms, 4 if you include my mom-in-law. So I know a thing or two about moms. And I truly and deeply appreciate all of the women who shaped Bonnie Margaret Cox into the fine lady she is today. But today, I wanna give a shout out to my kids.
Without children, I would never have become a mom and I wouldn’t have an extra day to celebrate my outstanding, awe-inspiring radness. (Not that we need an extra day for that, every single day is enough.)
But having children has taught me so much I don’t think I would have learned otherwise. Having kids has taught me the true meaning of hard work and sacrifice. You don’t understand sacrifice until you’ve had to sacrifice something in your life for your child. (And in Abraham’s case, until you have to sacrifice your child.)
Having children has taught me patience. It’s made me a little softer around the edges. It’s made me realize the importance of choosing my words wisely. And caused me to slow down and smell the roses and choose to enjoy my loved ones while I have them with me.
I’ve learned so much about myself too. Kids are like having a little living mirror of your own brain and personality. Every bad habit and obnoxious trait are amplified in front of you. You have to learn how to change that in yourself so you can guide your little ones through the pitfalls of acting like a complete dumbass.
And having children has completely changed how I read the Bible. I have a greater understanding of God’s love for His children because I know how I feel about mine. It’s taught me the real meaning of unconditional love and how it’s possible to completely love someone you’ve never met.
I never wanted to have kids at a young age, IF I ever did have kids. My plan was to wait at least 10 years before we had kids. But 3 years after we got married, one night of fun without a rain coat and we were preggers. I’ll never forget Nick’s reaction when I told him I was pregnant and didn’t just have the flu. He literally grabbed his face with both hands, his back hit the wall and he slowly slid down to the floor. No words came out of his open mouth. (That makes me LOL.) We weren’t ready for a kid AT ALL. But that didn’t matter, Meghan was on the way, regardless.
Now, I can say I wish I’d had kids earlier. I’d be a better person and I’d be much younger when my kids stop being kids. Still, I’ll be pretty young when Sam turns 18, I’ll only be 44. Nick will be 48. We can be newlyweds again. It’s gonna rock so freakin hard.
So, yes, I’m thankful for my moms. I’m thankful for the sacrifices they made and the love they gave. But I’m equally thankful for my girls. Without them I wouldn’t be who I am now. They are, without a doubt, the best learning experience I’ve ever had and the greatest joy of my life.
I love you, Meghan Elizabeth Cox and Samantha Anne Cox. Thanks for making me a mother.
Every Day Bonnie 