If You Never Read Another Post of Mine, Read This One

I have a few things to say about things you shouldn't do in the summer...

10. Don't wear shorts in the car during a trip and forget to put sunscreen on them.
9. Don't wear a bathing suit that is too small.
8. Don't sit in the sand at the beach in your wet bathing suit.
7. Don't scream "SHARK!!" on a busy day at a packed beach. No matter how much fun it is.
6. Don't forget to bring enough towels for everyone including the little boy who isn't yours.
5. Don't eat before swimming. No one likes crumbs in the pool.
4. Don't watch Jaws, Deep Blue Sea, or Open Water just before your beach trip.
3. Don't walk through a field of wildflowers without applying bug spray first.
2. Do not fall asleep with a book over your face and let your kids play in the water unattended.

 (image source)

And on a more serious note:

1. DO NOT EVER leave your kids unattended in the water.

In fact, you should watch them like a hawk. Do you know what drowning looks like? I do. From first hand experience. Last summer, at my cousin's daughter's 1st birthday party, I watched as my then 2 year old son almost drowned. He had taken swimming lessons and he was using a ring float.

The thing is, that ring float?

Did you know that if your child leaps out of the water while wearing the ring float, it could tip, causing your child to fall into the water unsupported?

Did you know that even if they've had swim lessons, they could still drown?

Did you know that drowning is the second highest leading cause of death in children under the age of 15?

Read this article: Drowning Doesn't Look Like Drowning. When you are finished reading it, pass it on. It's that important.

I don't know about you, but I always thought drowning involved the helpless splashing and cries for help between large gulps of water. Now, I understand why its said that drowning is one of the worst ways to die.

The memory of the sight of my son in the pool last summer, drowning, is one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. And we were watching, from the comfort of the edge of the pool.  It is because we were watching that my son is alive today.

Please, please, please watch your kids in the water. Be that helicopter parent at the pool everyone talks about. It could save your child's life.

That One Time at the Playground...

The year is 1985. It is the end of summer. School is not in session yet, so the playground is always full, always a game of football being played in the large field behind the school by the playground. If you waited long enough, the little kids would go home, and the teens could take over the enclosed play area, which we did.

If you were one of those private church school attending kids (like me), the playground captivated that much MORE of your attention. It was spread like a huge wooden fort, with tunnels that provided lots of places to hide. The ground was covered in pebbles rather than dirt or sand.

This particular summer was indulged in being smeared on a regular basis during games of touch football with the boys. It seemed like when I was playing, they always gave me the ball, and I was always tackled within moments. I'd like to think it was because I was such a great wide receiver, but more than likely, it had more to do with my ample boobage, even at 14.

There was a boy, of course. Jeff was 2 months older than me, and I remember that he had a big nose, tall, and had a mop of curly black hair on his head, ala Screech style.  Now that I think about it, he was very similar to Screech in appearance. He was always inviting me to spin the bottle games on his block, where most of the boys I played football with came from, but the fear of my dad finding out kept me away. Within two weeks of our introduction, he had claimed me as his girl.

Being Jeff's girl meant I was hands off to the other boys, so playing football became a challenge at first. He always played on the opposite team so he could be the one to tackle me. Once I figured out his weakness, it was smooth sailing. My team always won.

One day, later in the evening, the sun not set yet, Jeff and I are at the playground. I was sitting on the steps of one of the structures talking to the little boy I babysat on occasion. Next thing I knew, a shower of pebbles come raining over my head. I look around and see nothing. I go back to talking to the little boy, and another shower of pebbles comes raining down. I look around again, this time noting the facial expressions of some of the gang on the playground. This makes me look at Jeff. He's got a guilty look on his face.

"Did you throw those rocks on me?" He denies it, yet his friends are nodding their heads.

Another shower. I stand up this time. "Did you throw those rocks at me?" Another denial.

I walk towards him, and he tosses another handful of pebbles on me, then laughs. "Ooooooo! Stop throwing rocks at me!" Another handful leaves his hands and showers over me. "I mean it, Jeff. Don't throw any more or I'll kick your butt." His response was to send another shower.

I pounced. I threw a left hook, and the boys surrounded us, enclosing us in a circle. He counters with a punch at my boob. I didn't even flinch. I gave him a right hook this time, landing square on his jaw. The boys are hooting, commentary coming from the peanut gallery on who's tossing the hardest punch and my ability to tolerate his punches to my chest and abdomen. Three more punches to his face, the last one landing on his eye, and he burst in tears and ran home.

School started, and we moved to a newer neighborhood just across the highway. I missed my football buddies, though I never missed the pebble shower or Jeff. He never showed his face at the playground again after that day.




I chose prompt #5: a fist fight.

Writers Workshop: Ode to Fall

Ode to Fall

Crisp, spicy scents in the air

Chilly mornings, warm afternoons

Hearth fires creating black swirls in the sky

Painting the world in hues of red, yellow, and gold extraordinaire.

Witches, goblins, and costume play

Back to school, sunflowers, mini scarecrows

Hands clasped in thankful togetherness over prayer

Dance classes and Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

Football, tailgates, and warm apple pie

Christmas shopping, and visits with Claus

Pumpkin patch treasures, buckets filled to the brim

Days of harvest that fly right by.

Three cheers I give to the coming of Fall

Goodbye to sweet Summer, Not Yet to Jack Frost

These are just a few reasons why

You are the best season of all.

Prompt #5: 10 reasons why you’re glad it’s Fall. (okay, I went overboard...)

Don't forget to call me a liar and place your best guess on today's 2 Truths & a Lie.  Join in the fun and link up, too!

Next week is a very special week. I have 6 special guests lined to help me with my Raising Awareness *Special Needs* Blog Week next week. Grab a button on Sunday to show your support. I'm excited!

Writers Workshop: Unconditional Love

She is freshly 19, in love, and full of hope. He has a lot of pressure on him, since her whole family knows him. Their love gets lost amidst the bickering and arguing. They make up, make love, and a whole new brand of trouble begins.

It is in April that she discovers the reason behind her edginess, moody, unexplained exhaustion. It is in July that he finally tells her that he is falling in love again, but wants out, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone.

Alone. The very thing she did not need to be. Alone leaves her wallowing in tears, seeking something or someone to hide her pain behind. Alone leaves her scared, feeling unloved, destitute, desperate.

Now, she will never be alone. A baby loves unconditionally. A baby will love her just because she exists. A baby will fill her heart with the love she craves. She embraces her baby, pouring all of her heart into this tiny being she only knows from the gentle kicks she feels from inside her belly. Her heart fills up, bursts, and fills up all over again. She is happy. She loves and finally, is loved in return.

October rolls around, she wakes in excruciating pain. She races to the bathroom with an urge to pee, only to feel such pressure that in her immature mind, she believed was the baby's head, ready to be birthed right at that exact moment. She screams, wakes her parents, is rushed to the hospital. Beloved Son is born, eight weeks premature.

Her turmoil is not over yet. Things are not working as they should be.  A belt is placed around her waist, and a tiny heart lights up on the machine. Another beloved, waiting to be born. Her heart flutters, explodes, flutters again. She is ecstatic.

November ends her misery when the babies come home. Gone is her broken heart, the anguish of having had these precious babies, and having to leave them behind. Her heart bursts again and explodes from her chest. There is no containing it.

Four months, her heart worries. She wants these babies to have everything. Her heart tells her that they deserve more then she could ever give them. Her heart breaks over and over again as she wrestles with her choices. Her heart tells her that she cannot do it. She cannot walk away but yet, it also tells her that she must.

She sees their smiling faces, hears their soft giggles, watches their eyes fill with happy recognition when they see her. Her heart breaks again, and she knows she cannot do it. She is too selfish. She needs their love. She falls in love all over again with every little thing they do. She feels her heart swell with pride, overflow with joy, and burst with love. She knows what she should do. She just doesn't have the strength to do it.

She calls her mom one afternoon, crying over the phone. She tells her where the babies are, and feels her heart shatter in her chest as she tells her mom "They are yours. This is what they need, what they deserve. I'm sorry to do it this way, but I can't do it any other way. Please pick them up and love them for me." Then she hangs up the phone. She feels the earth drop out from underneath her feet, and she falls to floor in heart-wrenching sobs.

ON THE WINGS OF A PRAYER

I set you free on the wings of a prayer
To fly through life in His tender care,

You're free from the nest and the ties that are bound
Free from the pressures I carry around.

If I kept you I'd only be cutting your wings,
Not offering the chance a true family brings.

The decision I've made has my heart torn in two,
But I know what I'm doing is the best thing for you.

The sky is so vast, the mountains so high
Take wing and remember: I love you.

Goodbye.

--LISA BOTE-PHILLIPS 

 

Writers Workshop-Le Brassiere

4.) Write a 20-line poem (rhyming or non-rhyming) dedicated to your favorite piece of clothing (could be a shirt, hat, shoes, etc.).

Oh my dear over the shoulder boulder holder

What would I ever do without you?

You keep my girls forever perky,

My belly smaller,

And my husband fonder.

You are even kind to my family,

Giving a secret hidey hole

For storing cars and trucks

Freeing up small hands

For giving Grandma hugs and kisses.

You are useful for so many things,

Like holding my cash, keys, and credit cards

The occasion peas (and carrots!) too

You are my new BFF

I've so come to rely on you.

You stand so firm and upright after washing

Offering such wonderful support

Truly a woman's dream-

I can be sincere when I say

I have never had another quite like you.

Yesterday, I offered a very special giveaway to offer my support to Monkey during Mission Monkey. Please take a moment to read this post, and enter the giveaway. It would mean the world to one mom and one little girl. Also, please stop in tomorrow when I feature a very special blog about the life of a courageous mom dealing with her youngest son having a disorder called PWS (Prader-Willi Syndrome). You don't want to miss it.

 

Writers Workshop-Naughty or Nice

3.) I know my kids really love me because…

They terrorize me. There you have it. The secret is spilled. I know my kids really love me because they terrorize me. In the words of Jellybean "The only time I can really be myself is at home with you. That's why I'm so bad." (enter sounds of a deep, long sigh). Yes, I appreciate that I've reared you with such confidence and love that you don't worry about whether I love you enough to behave with me. I appreciate that you know no matter what I will love you so you feel free to be yourself...

But couldn't yourself be a little less naughty and a little more nice?!? Just sayin.

Today's post is a part of Mama Kat's Writers Workshop. To join up, visit her site, choose your prompt and link up. You can also check out more Writers Workshop posts from her site as well.

Won't you come play today?

Writers Workshop-The Unlikely Hero

This week I am finally, FINALLY, participating in MamaKat's Writers Workshop. Are you in need of a muse too? Head on over there, choose your prompt and write what comes to mind. I did.

I chose prompt #4.

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The world around me is so very quiet. It's so quiet, I can hear the soft padding of the field mice as they scamper through the grass. The whole world hangs on a breath, waiting. Just waiting.

Waiting for me to catch on. They tell me the fate of the whole world rests in my hands, but I don't believe it. It's impossible. I was born to a lowly innkeeper. I am plain and average in every way. I have accelerated at nothing. My friends tend to laugh at me often. I can never seem to remain on my feet. I think I have had more bruises in my short lifetime then Rocky Balboa in a boxing ring. So how could the fate of the whole world rest on me? It can't. It just can't.

It's not like I have a really difficult decision to make either. I have a role to play in the "Saving of the world" as we know it, but I have to figure it all out on my own. They didn't even spare me a clue. Not even one.

Perhaps I should back up a little and give you the Cliff notes version on what's happening today. Maybe YOU can help ME figure out what to do. What say you?

Twenty years ago, a baby was born with a gray shadow on his knee. It's been said through the years, that when this infant is born, it is the beginning of the end. The baby has grown. He's lived in riches, he's lived in rags. He has experienced all facets of life, but still, he has decided that everyone must die unless he finds the famed Ruby Amulet worn by his forefathers in ages past. No one knows where this Ruby Amulet is. It is said that whomever wears the Ruby Amulet is consumed by greed and evil. No good can come of it. It is also said that this baby's father, the most evil man to ever live, will come back from the Spirit world to conquer the lands he once controlled long ago because of this amulet.

Spies were dispatched to find this amulet, buried and hidden by the priests long ago. Legends began circulating that there was one person who could wear the amulet with no adverse affects, and restore peace and order to the universe. This person must be pure of heart.

And so the search began.

About a year ago, rumors that the amulet had surfaced began. It's been said that a small boy possesses the amulet, given to him by his mother at birth, just before she passed. The evil king's henchman have been hunting up and down the countryside trying to find this boy and bring him before the king. He has been cleverly hidden until now.

Ahead of him still lies the hardest part of his journey. He must travel to the valley and stand in the very lowest center of the world and return it to the earth, where it really belongs. He's been lucky so far, using the magic stones and potions people give him along his way. He had to stop somewhere though, and it was just my luck that he would stop at my humble doorstep. Somehow, the amulet began glowing and I was told that I would be a great asset to the saving of the world. How I am to do this still remains a mystery.

I thought (hoped) maybe it was because I gave him food and shelter, but I was wrong. I really must figure this out because the henchman are getting closer. I can hear the sound of the metal hooves pounding on the soft earth, making the earth cry out with tears of pain. The ground from this point on only gets rougher. No one has survived the desolate barren place that lies before the boy. He MUST go on. If only he could fly....oh! I've got it!!

I must hurry. But, it has to be perfect. Quick and perfect, that's the key.

I sat down before the town's only artist, sitting behind me with a needle and ink. He stabs my skin carefully, tracing fine lines of hot stings across my spine, my shoulders, my lower back. The more he works, the less pain I feel as my body begins to adjust to the feeling of pain that is encapsulating my back. I must do this though. The stories are right. The boy must have wings.

He is finished. Tears roll from his eyes as he admires his work. Flashes of yellows, pinks and blues I catch in the mirror behind me. The colors rise from my back, and I feel a short blast of pain, as my wings unfold from my back. My gorgeous tattoo. The wings that will fly the boy across the barren wasteland. The wings that will save the world in all their golden, shimmery butterfly beauty.

Wings that will free my soul.

(P.S. Be sure to stop in tomorrow and find out who gets this week's Best Scoop of the Week!!)