Warning...Blogging Can Be Good for You!

I am addicted to blogging and have only been at it for a week or so. I have found it to be a therapeutic outlet. Michael must appreciate it also because I'm talking his ear off less.

Words cannot describe how I have changed...for the better...in a matter of days. I'm suddenly happier. I have always been a writer, if only for myself, journaling life's up and downs. Yet, lately I have been unable to stick with it. Blogging has reawakened me. Each day brings potential stories for my blog. I even have a notebook to write down all the ideas coming to mind. My husband thinks I'm crazy...but that's nothing new. I'm like this with my scrapbooking too. "Honey, I have this great idea for a scrapbook page so we need to create the scene for it." He laughs. I know you fellow "croppers" can relate.

Anyway...back to my newfound self...I find myself reacting to my children with even more silliness and less hair pulling...mine, not theirs, although some days....

For example, I give voices to animals. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I still love cartoons. Are there any without talking animals? BTW, my current favorites are Kim Possible and Phineas and Ferb. I have been known to plop on the couch with the kids to watch them while my husband...yep, you guessed it...laughs at me.

We have an adorable albeit ornery kitten, Rocket. He provides a lot of the comic relief at our house. When the kids pick him up to kiss him, he puts his paws out and pushes on their face. I cannot resist saying, "Stop! Please, no more. I said Stop! I'm gonna bite you. See...I warned you." Anytime he's terrorizing the place and bouncing off the walls I provide dialog for Rocket.

Michael, of course, thinks I'm crazy. Maybe I should start a list: Things Michael Thinks I'm Crazy For...no, About...no, Why Michael Thinks I'm Crazy Yet Loves Me Anyway. Yes, perfect!

So, my daughter thinks this is hilarious. Now she asks me to "talk" for the kitty. She has started doing this too. I got the warm fuzzies today imagining her doing the same thing with her children some day. Far better than the cold chills fearing she, or her brother, will repeat my many mistakes. I can only pray God strikes the undesirable ones from their memories.

...then again, they could write best sellers with all the material I've provided and take care of me in my old age.