Pied Piper

I'm flabbergasted a little surprised.

Come on people. Be for real.

I have been a bitch on wheels haven't been feeling too great for the last couple of days. For the bits of time that I wasn't hiding under the covers in bed I was parked in front of the computer.
Reading blogs.
I saw that I lost a follower.
Then I read a post saying "OMG I LOST 46 FOLLOWERS"
And another "WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID"
Followed by "COME BACK, COME BACK I MISS YOU ALL"
It was the Google Flu, people. Google was "adjusting" something somewhere in their Technical Batcave. No Followers were lost, they just got shuffled into the wrong bus line for awhile.
Google should apologize for damaging the psyche of so many bloggers in so little time.
Some of the "I've Lost My Followers" posts were tongue-in-cheek.
Some were sincere.
Some promised never to say "faux" again.
Some said "faux-ity faux faux."
Just A Reminder: Blogging is NOT a popularity contest.
Blogging IS all about you.
It's whatever you want it to be.
It's in your words.
It's in your time. Don't apologize for being a "bad blogger"

Blogging is not meant for you to feel inadequate, or all-powerful, or smart or stupid.
Blogging is a release. It's a place to vent. Or share. Or make wisecracks about your sisters. because you love them.
It's a tool, people.

Love Yourself Just The Way You Are.

Embrace who you are right now, help another woman love herself too. Life is too short, time is too precious. Let's wear our hearts on our feet, put on your red shoes and walk with your head held high!

Liberty Post and the lady in Red Shoes would like you to share the RedShoe Love-a-thon. If you'd like to join in, add the photo to your sidebar.

P.S. I'm still following you.

Survivor

I've been reading a lot of mommy blogs lately. Love the mommy blogs. Love the pics of the wee ones discovering the world around them.

This is dedicated to the mommies (and daddies too, I know you're there).

YOU WILL SURVIVE.

You will survive walking your child to their first day of kindergarten and leaving them with the crossing guard because they are NOT a baby and DO NOT want you to go IN with them.

You will survive when they change their mind halfway across the street and come back to have you escort them in to kindergarten. You will not cry, either.

You will not freak out when they come home from first grade with half their face torn off. You will calmly ask "what happened?" You will not laugh hysterically when you are told that Bobby was ignoring your precious child, so Precious Child grabbed Bobby's backpack strap and Bobby ran away. Wearing his backpack. With Precious Child firmly attached to backpack and leaving half of her face embedded in the asphalt. They're just skid marks.

You will agree that a bright orange jaquard print tee shirt, screaming purple skirt and red cowgirl boots do indeed make a stunning fashion statement on Picture Day.

You will survive being named Psycho Mom of the Year. You know very well that you are Psycho Mom because you are insane enough NOT to allow your 14 year old to get in a car with a TeenageDriver.

You will survive a phone call from the Emergency Room saying that your 14 year old daughter has been in a car accident. A TeenageDriver was at the wheel, somebody said something witty like "I've gotta fart", lost control of the car and drove Through A House.

You will NOT laugh hysterically when you arrive at the Emergency Room to see your child lying on a stretcher with a neck brace so large that it would've been a tad loose for the Incredible Hulk. (everybody lived to walk out of the ER unharmed. Any later harm would be a direct result of Parental Violence.)

You will survive and excel at terrorizing and intimidating both potential and official boyfriends. Having the advantage of being a few inches short of five feet tall and having perfected The Look will ensure that all boys will be on Auto-Scared the minute they pull in the driveway and HONK THE HORN for your Precious Child.

You will develop and perfect methods of dealing with Psycho Drama from your Precious Child, who by 15 is considerably taller than you. That's why God gave his children ears. Ears are not for listening. Ears are handles. Pull on the handle. The Precious Child will sit down on the floor and will LISTEN to you with the remaining ear. Do not relinquish your grasp on the handle until you are done speaking.

You will survive teaching your Precious Child how to drive, preferably in a car you no longer have any sentimental feelings about.

You will clap and cheer when Precious Child buys her very first car and helps to pay for it.

You'll survive your Precious Child's Orientation Day at college and moving into the dorm. You will escort her to her first classroom, although class won't start for another day. You will not cry. It feels a whole lot like the first day of kindergarten.

You will survive Year Number 21. Last year of college and on to grad school. You will not wonder where the time has gone. It's all right there. Oh, by the way, Precious Child's major is PSYCHO-logy.