E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 74
June 17, 2013
No one is perfect. Not even Superman.
My son to his little sister: Tattoos ARE NOT stickers. Haven't you seen Daddy's arms? There's a big difference.
My daughter: They are too the same! Daddy just never tried getting his stickers off!
My
five-year-old son *after riding the biggest roller-coaster at
Lagoon--the one with the death-drop that immediately goes upside down*: I
bet I'm the only kid in kindergarten who's gone on that ride.
Me *laughing*: YOU are awesome. You wanna go again?
My son *stumbling, still a little green*: No! Mom, are you crazy? I
only went 'cause Daddy said it was a little ride. At least now I can
tell everyone about it at school.
Me: You'll be the bravest kid there.
My son: All right, it was worth it.
What a catch!
No one is perfect--not even Superman. Did you see how many people he couldn't save in the latest movie?
"I started leaving dollar bills in my pockets so that when I do the laundry, it's just like Christmas," my daughter said.
I coughed, rather loudly.
"What, Mom? You said make it fun!" So that's why she's been doing all of her laundry right on time!
If you'd like to read more of these silly updates, I'll be posting one new update each day, just "LIKE" my Facebook Page HERE if you'd like to see them on FB.
Also, my first interview on a comedy radio station is this Wednesday. It'll be posted online if you want to listen in. More details here: Comedy Radio Interview .
My daughter: They are too the same! Daddy just never tried getting his stickers off!
My
five-year-old son *after riding the biggest roller-coaster at
Lagoon--the one with the death-drop that immediately goes upside down*: I
bet I'm the only kid in kindergarten who's gone on that ride.
Me *laughing*: YOU are awesome. You wanna go again?
My son *stumbling, still a little green*: No! Mom, are you crazy? I
only went 'cause Daddy said it was a little ride. At least now I can
tell everyone about it at school.
Me: You'll be the bravest kid there.
My son: All right, it was worth it.
What a catch!
No one is perfect--not even Superman. Did you see how many people he couldn't save in the latest movie?
"I started leaving dollar bills in my pockets so that when I do the laundry, it's just like Christmas," my daughter said.
I coughed, rather loudly.
"What, Mom? You said make it fun!" So that's why she's been doing all of her laundry right on time!
If you'd like to read more of these silly updates, I'll be posting one new update each day, just "LIKE" my Facebook Page HERE if you'd like to see them on FB.
Also, my first interview on a comedy radio station is this Wednesday. It'll be posted online if you want to listen in. More details here: Comedy Radio Interview .
June 13, 2013
Slow Down. Take in the View: Hunting with my Dad
June 11, 2013
How NOT to get out of speeding tickets.
I suck at talking my way out of tickets. And I get them for the DUMBEST reasons! Once a cop "clocked me with his eyes." I even got a ticket when I was in labor--no kidding. (TMI Alert!) I'm positive I dilated that day while pleading
with the cop, telling him I needed to get home and take my Terbutaline.
Maybe this is payback for a past life of crime? Was I a villain, someone terrible like Robin Hood's King John?
Or am I simply paying for all those days speeding as a teenager?
And not only do I get them for dumb reasons, the ONLY time I got out of a ticket was when I really deserved one! I was 17, driving at 2am without my lights on! Yep, got out of that one, and yet years later I can't even avoid one when I'm in labor--going 9 MPH over?!
Maybe the problem is that I hide my emotions too well. I'm always laughing, always smiling, mostly because I'm happy or nervous. I must be either happy or nervous all the time . . . Maybe I wasn't King John, maybe I was a Labrador Retriever?
I laugh and smile. Once a cop even said I was so nice it was the easiest ticket he ever gave. Gee . . . THANKS.
Regardless, I had to tell you all of that, so you'd understand the desperation I felt today. The road stretched far ahead. My babies cried begging for this and that while Radio Disney blared in an effort to appease them. I rolled down the window, hoping the wind would drown out all other sounds--but it didn't. So, did I have a chance to notice the speed changing from 45 to 35? Did I also have the chance to see a cop parked, sneakily facing me two feet from the "35 MPH Sign"? No!
As he turned on his lights, preparing to flip around and follow me, I nearly swallowed all the spit in my mouth.
"There's a cop!" I slammed on the breaks and turned into a tiny side street.
My children screamed, glancing back at flashing lights, "Shark! Shark!"
They had that right. The man had been waiting for a little at-home mom, just looking for his prey. "Mother Knows Best" still boomed from the radio, and I thought, mother doesn't ALWAYS know best, but she sure does have terrible luck with tickets.
We made a quick U-Turn on the tiny street, then parked and turned off the van.
"Be quiet! He might hear us! And I don't have money to pay for another ticket!" I said to my three and five-year-old. In hindsight, that was a STUPID thing to say. The whole thing wasn't very smart. We were in broad daylight, still inside of the van. My heart beat fast, thumping like my washer earlier this morning. Plus, what if the cop turned around and saw us? What would he say? What would I say? "Ummm, Sir. I'm an idiot. And I'm normally really great at being responsible, just not today?" Then I'd hold out my wrists for him to arrest me, because I can be freakin' accommodating--that's what! And I'd try forgetting all the terrible things I've done; like that time I farted and blamed it on the kid next to me.
But tickets will do that to ya. Hell, I heard about girls in high school who flashed cops, or said they were on the rag, just to avoid paying a speeding fine. Sometimes the thought of getting a ticket can actually cause more crimes!
Several cars lurched past. My kids stayed quiet, exchanging conspiratorial looks as we watched the main street from our vantage point. Had the cop managed to turn around in this traffic?
Birds sang outside--not even caring that I might go to jail. Someone smiled while checking their mail--the ignorant optimist!
A second later a cop car, with his siren blaring and lights flashing, zoomed past.
My boy jumped from his seat, swung his fist in the air and began hooting, "Ya lost him! Ya lost him! Good job, Mom!" He hugged me round the neck, and looked at me as if I were a giant scoop of ice cream. "Now you won't lose all your money."
I cleared my throat. It's truly amazing what five-year-olds pick up on. "Cops are wonderful," I stated in a clear voice--now that we were out of danger. "Don't always do what Mommy does. And we are fine with money. I'm just tired of making donations to this city." Then I quickly turned left onto the road and drove in the opposite direction of the cop. I thanked my lucky stars. But I still hope this is one of those childhood memories the kids will soon forget.
So, I feel bad. And I won't be screwing my license plate on upside down like one person I know. But honestly, I'm not perfect. I hope no one will respond to this saying "Slow Down. 9 over is 9 too many!" Or. "How terrible you evaded a cop." The point is that I'm tired of getting in trouble when I'm trying to do my best--with God, my family, my business, my friends--without these other things happening that could make me have a break down. At least I didn't get a ticket for my lawn being too long, like my poor neighbor did. THAT was ridiculous.
Oh well. This world isn't all gumdrops and raisins (or however that saying goes) and that's what makes it so exciting. Plus, at least we aren't in a Zombie apocalypse. Can you imagine getting pulled over by a zombie cop? That would *sing-song voice* SU-CK!
P.S. Some of this post might not be factual. Oh and, even though this just happened, I don't know what city it may have taken place in--if it were real. Also, this might be about someone else--especially that part about the washer thumping. The main character in this story might even have been a man. Named. Cade.
Signing Off,
A Completely Exhausted Elisa (who--by the way--caught a bad bacteria and is currently on antibiotics lol. Livin' the dream.)
Sorry I haven't been commenting on many blogs lately. I'm going to try harder. I swear. But I have been reading many on my phone (just not while driving).
with the cop, telling him I needed to get home and take my Terbutaline.
Maybe this is payback for a past life of crime? Was I a villain, someone terrible like Robin Hood's King John?
Or am I simply paying for all those days speeding as a teenager?
And not only do I get them for dumb reasons, the ONLY time I got out of a ticket was when I really deserved one! I was 17, driving at 2am without my lights on! Yep, got out of that one, and yet years later I can't even avoid one when I'm in labor--going 9 MPH over?!
Maybe the problem is that I hide my emotions too well. I'm always laughing, always smiling, mostly because I'm happy or nervous. I must be either happy or nervous all the time . . . Maybe I wasn't King John, maybe I was a Labrador Retriever?
I laugh and smile. Once a cop even said I was so nice it was the easiest ticket he ever gave. Gee . . . THANKS.
Regardless, I had to tell you all of that, so you'd understand the desperation I felt today. The road stretched far ahead. My babies cried begging for this and that while Radio Disney blared in an effort to appease them. I rolled down the window, hoping the wind would drown out all other sounds--but it didn't. So, did I have a chance to notice the speed changing from 45 to 35? Did I also have the chance to see a cop parked, sneakily facing me two feet from the "35 MPH Sign"? No!
As he turned on his lights, preparing to flip around and follow me, I nearly swallowed all the spit in my mouth.
"There's a cop!" I slammed on the breaks and turned into a tiny side street.
My children screamed, glancing back at flashing lights, "Shark! Shark!"
They had that right. The man had been waiting for a little at-home mom, just looking for his prey. "Mother Knows Best" still boomed from the radio, and I thought, mother doesn't ALWAYS know best, but she sure does have terrible luck with tickets.
We made a quick U-Turn on the tiny street, then parked and turned off the van.
"Be quiet! He might hear us! And I don't have money to pay for another ticket!" I said to my three and five-year-old. In hindsight, that was a STUPID thing to say. The whole thing wasn't very smart. We were in broad daylight, still inside of the van. My heart beat fast, thumping like my washer earlier this morning. Plus, what if the cop turned around and saw us? What would he say? What would I say? "Ummm, Sir. I'm an idiot. And I'm normally really great at being responsible, just not today?" Then I'd hold out my wrists for him to arrest me, because I can be freakin' accommodating--that's what! And I'd try forgetting all the terrible things I've done; like that time I farted and blamed it on the kid next to me.
But tickets will do that to ya. Hell, I heard about girls in high school who flashed cops, or said they were on the rag, just to avoid paying a speeding fine. Sometimes the thought of getting a ticket can actually cause more crimes!
Several cars lurched past. My kids stayed quiet, exchanging conspiratorial looks as we watched the main street from our vantage point. Had the cop managed to turn around in this traffic?
Birds sang outside--not even caring that I might go to jail. Someone smiled while checking their mail--the ignorant optimist!
A second later a cop car, with his siren blaring and lights flashing, zoomed past.
My boy jumped from his seat, swung his fist in the air and began hooting, "Ya lost him! Ya lost him! Good job, Mom!" He hugged me round the neck, and looked at me as if I were a giant scoop of ice cream. "Now you won't lose all your money."
I cleared my throat. It's truly amazing what five-year-olds pick up on. "Cops are wonderful," I stated in a clear voice--now that we were out of danger. "Don't always do what Mommy does. And we are fine with money. I'm just tired of making donations to this city." Then I quickly turned left onto the road and drove in the opposite direction of the cop. I thanked my lucky stars. But I still hope this is one of those childhood memories the kids will soon forget.
So, I feel bad. And I won't be screwing my license plate on upside down like one person I know. But honestly, I'm not perfect. I hope no one will respond to this saying "Slow Down. 9 over is 9 too many!" Or. "How terrible you evaded a cop." The point is that I'm tired of getting in trouble when I'm trying to do my best--with God, my family, my business, my friends--without these other things happening that could make me have a break down. At least I didn't get a ticket for my lawn being too long, like my poor neighbor did. THAT was ridiculous.
Oh well. This world isn't all gumdrops and raisins (or however that saying goes) and that's what makes it so exciting. Plus, at least we aren't in a Zombie apocalypse. Can you imagine getting pulled over by a zombie cop? That would *sing-song voice* SU-CK!
P.S. Some of this post might not be factual. Oh and, even though this just happened, I don't know what city it may have taken place in--if it were real. Also, this might be about someone else--especially that part about the washer thumping. The main character in this story might even have been a man. Named. Cade.
Signing Off,
A Completely Exhausted Elisa (who--by the way--caught a bad bacteria and is currently on antibiotics lol. Livin' the dream.)
Sorry I haven't been commenting on many blogs lately. I'm going to try harder. I swear. But I have been reading many on my phone (just not while driving).
June 10, 2013
Featured on the Front of Savvy Dad!
A story about my dad and me is featured on the
front page of Savvy Dad today! Just in time for Father's Day.
If you have a
chance to look, the middle picture (on the following site) is of my dad
holding me when I was 4 years old.
http://savvydad.com/
Direct Link to Story: Stand Up With Grace
front page of Savvy Dad today! Just in time for Father's Day.
If you have a
chance to look, the middle picture (on the following site) is of my dad
holding me when I was 4 years old.
http://savvydad.com/
Direct Link to Story: Stand Up With Grace
My Mom Plays the Drums!
My mom is amazing. She's been a foundation in my life, someone who was there no matter what. If I'm overly confident, it's because of her. If I refuse to give up--it's because of her. If I like my hair pulled back so tightly people think I've had a facelift . . . it's because of her. She's one of the most resilient, awe-inspiring people you could meet. Her spirit shines sweet and kind. She seems quiet and meek, but don't let that fool ya, inside she rages with hilarity and every day that woman makes me laugh. One time Cade teased her too much, when he turned, my mom threw a dishrag in his face. It was epic, better than when Neil walked on the moon!
Well, when my mom was two years old, her father died. Then, when she was three, her mother left her along with three of her siblings. Their aunt and uncle raised them. Things were hard, but my mother never gave up. She refused to let things pull her down into the mud of life. She knew she was meant to be something great--a success.
During her sixth grade year, all of the students took a test to see who qualified for the percussion program. My mom passed with unrivaled talent. I've always imagined the test.
In my imagination, the teacher stood by a full drum set and asked, "What's rhythm?"
Some sap raised his hand. "Isn't that when you tap your foot to the music?"
Another kid with preteen pimples probably whispered. "Is it when you clap at church?"
I bet that's when my modest, twelve-year-old mother rolled her eyes. She maybe walked to the front of the class room and hollered, "Listen here, children. You wanna know what rhythm is? Get a load of this!"
Then she sat at those drums, and she played the heck out of 'em! Saints watched from Heaven. Jesus smiled because some-a-day He knew that Italian sweetheart would live for Him. All those kids cheered at the end, because it's not everyday you realize, you're going to school with a legend. I bet that was her first standing ovation--I BET!
So, my mom emerged as a sixth grade icon. She became so fantastic, she used her skill to win Miss C. E. U., and later Miss Carbon County. Then shortly after that, she won my dad.
Here's a picture so you know I'm not lying about her beauty. (If you doubted me--shame on you!)
Later my dad swept her off those rhythmic feet, when he asked her to marry him. They had three kids: a chemist, a mechanical engineer, and a blogger.
So, I'd like to show you a video of my mother playing the drums.
Sorry about the shaky camera, I started crying a bit during this because I kept thinking about how lucky I am to have such a great mother. Then, my mom smiled at me and I got a case of the giggles. Blame it on P. M. S.. Blame it on lack of sleep. Heck, blame it on LOVE!
Oh, and every time I say "awesome" in this video, please imagine a different (more creative) word in place of it. Maybe epic, fantastic, joyous. I'm not good at public speaking.
Without further ado, here she is folks:
Well, when my mom was two years old, her father died. Then, when she was three, her mother left her along with three of her siblings. Their aunt and uncle raised them. Things were hard, but my mother never gave up. She refused to let things pull her down into the mud of life. She knew she was meant to be something great--a success.
During her sixth grade year, all of the students took a test to see who qualified for the percussion program. My mom passed with unrivaled talent. I've always imagined the test.
In my imagination, the teacher stood by a full drum set and asked, "What's rhythm?"
Some sap raised his hand. "Isn't that when you tap your foot to the music?"
Another kid with preteen pimples probably whispered. "Is it when you clap at church?"
I bet that's when my modest, twelve-year-old mother rolled her eyes. She maybe walked to the front of the class room and hollered, "Listen here, children. You wanna know what rhythm is? Get a load of this!"
Then she sat at those drums, and she played the heck out of 'em! Saints watched from Heaven. Jesus smiled because some-a-day He knew that Italian sweetheart would live for Him. All those kids cheered at the end, because it's not everyday you realize, you're going to school with a legend. I bet that was her first standing ovation--I BET!
So, my mom emerged as a sixth grade icon. She became so fantastic, she used her skill to win Miss C. E. U., and later Miss Carbon County. Then shortly after that, she won my dad.
Here's a picture so you know I'm not lying about her beauty. (If you doubted me--shame on you!)
Later my dad swept her off those rhythmic feet, when he asked her to marry him. They had three kids: a chemist, a mechanical engineer, and a blogger.
So, I'd like to show you a video of my mother playing the drums.
Sorry about the shaky camera, I started crying a bit during this because I kept thinking about how lucky I am to have such a great mother. Then, my mom smiled at me and I got a case of the giggles. Blame it on P. M. S.. Blame it on lack of sleep. Heck, blame it on LOVE!
Oh, and every time I say "awesome" in this video, please imagine a different (more creative) word in place of it. Maybe epic, fantastic, joyous. I'm not good at public speaking.
Without further ado, here she is folks:
June 5, 2013
Have You Heard of "Cups" from Pitch Perfect?
If you're here to read the posts from the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest, please CLICK here!
Well, I had a big radio interview today--super exciting--so to calm my nerves, I recorded this silly video.
I hope you'll like it.
P.S. Here's the hilarious book/eBook/audiobook I talked about in the video:
Well, I had a big radio interview today--super exciting--so to calm my nerves, I recorded this silly video.
I hope you'll like it.
P.S. Here's the hilarious book/eBook/audiobook I talked about in the video:
June 4, 2013
It's Better to Give than to Receive
We had something amazing happen at an assisted living home. But first, let me share some big news:
I can hardly believe that I'm listed as one of the
Top 50 Mompreneurs of 2013.
Pretty exciting.
They're narrowing it down to the top 10.
--I never ask for things like this--
But if you have a chance...
Would you vote for me by clicking the "thumbs up" after visiting this link?
Voiceboks--The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom
Also, Rosrin Wuithiran has won the iPad Mini from
the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest!
Congratulations!
Onto the Post of the Day:
It's Better to Give than to Receive
Last week, I decided to take my kids to an assisted living home and perform for the residents living there. Cade had been scheduled to play the guitar while I played the violin, but things fell apart when Cade was scheduled to work far out of town.
Still, my four kids giggled as we drove to the quaint building. Didn't they know I was terrified? I have fun playing with Cade--since he's my crutch--but I'm petrified to play alone.
"I'm nervous," my voice squeaked to the Scribe as all four of my children played so loudly I swear the van started rocking on the freeway. "Calm down," I yelled. "We're going to perform for some people! Don't act like this there." I groaned because being a parent is hard. Half the time I'm raising these kids alone, and that's A LOT of pressure.
"Why are we doing this?" the Scribe asked.
"Well, Dee asked if we'd bring some of her books to give away as a random act of kindness. And I always have to make things complicated, so we're going to perform while we give the books away."
"We're going to perform? You're fiddling. What am I gonna do?"
I shrugged. "Dance. Something. You'll know what to do when we get there."
She looked wearily at the Hippie, the Zombie and Dr. Jones. "Now I'm nervous! I'm just gonna think about making people happy. This is hard work! No wonder Dee made a good nun--she makes being sweet look so easy!" And the truth is that Dee Ready (of Coming Home to Myself) could be an actual saint someday. She's kind and generous. To even think of donating her books like this just warmed my heart.
"I'm not sure if I'm the person who should be donating these books," I told Dee prior to all of this.
"You're just the person," she said. "Wait and see."
After we set up and I stood in front of a room filled with elderly people, I shakily cleared my throat. I had to do this--Dee believed in me.
"We're here today," I gestured toward my four rambunctious children, and myself, "because a generous author has asked for us to share her books with you. A local Baptist church also donated so we could buy dozens of scarves to give to every woman here. These gifts aren't from us. But we're happy to deliver them."
I glanced and saw the Zombie Elf who'd bent down to inspect a wheelchair--I nearly fainted as he pulled on the brake.
We were there to spread joy NOT hurt the residents!
I thought I may die, but then the Scribe smiled widely at me. "Don't worry. You were right, Mama. I do know what to do." She then proceeded to round up her siblings and hand them the scarves. "We're passing them out--spreading joy," she whispered. As my four hooligans walked around the room, the Zombie didn't try breaking anymore wheelchairs; instead he joked with a man in the back of the room. My three-year-old girl nestled up to a kind-looking woman with gray hair. But my oldest daughters were the ones who made my heart swell with joy. The Scribe bent down and wrapped a scarf around one woman's shoulders. "I picked this color for you because it goes perfectly with your eyes." The woman's lips quivered ever so slightly as she looked at my eleven-year-old. She nodded, without saying and word, then squeezed my daughter's hand.
The Hippie followed suit, finding just the right scarf for each woman. As the scarves were given in that personal, loving way, it felt as if the blinds were thrown open and a bunch of flowers had blossomed with the sunlight of a new day.
I played a quick song then. The residents started clapping and I nearly laughed from the joy of it. The Zombie crossed in front of me, looking at everyone and when he sat down, they clapped for him. Dr. Jones, not wanting to miss out, crossed as well, then did a somersault! The Hippie and Scribe started doing tricks--all four of them joined in, dancing, walking and smiling.
I'll never forget that snapshot moment in our lives, of all the people cheering and smiling, of the women gently cherishing those scarves, or how much they seemed to treasure Dee Ready's books as we passed them out at the end of our time there.
Just before we left, the activity director said, "We never have enough copies of books to have book club meetings. Please tell this author 'thank you' from us. Now we'll be able to have our first meeting next month after everyone has read A Cat's Legacy ."
I was proud of my kids, realizing they're pretty great. But I was also blessed in that perfect moment, surrounded in the love of dozens of strangers who'd made us happier than we'd ever imagined possible, and strengthen a girl who'd been terrified to perform alone.
"I know what I'm going to be when I grow up," the Scribe said as we drove away.
"What?" I asked.
"Someone who helps old people."
"That is awesome! What do you want to be?" I asked the rest of my kids.
"A construction worker like Daddy," the Hippie said.
"A wuv-wy pin-cess," sweet Dr. Jones said.
"I dunno," my boy finally sputtered. "Somethin' great!" He looked at Dr. Jones squarely, and yelled. "'Cause my pee pee's bigger than yours!"
Dr. Jones started crying in her little girly voice. The Zombie started singing about his pee pee. My oldest girls played so loudly I swear the van started rocking on the freeway--again. But somehow it had still been a life-changing day.
Us--just goofing around.
Cade is so much fun.
I can hardly believe that I'm listed as one of the
Top 50 Mompreneurs of 2013.
Pretty exciting.
They're narrowing it down to the top 10.
--I never ask for things like this--
But if you have a chance...
Would you vote for me by clicking the "thumbs up" after visiting this link?
Voiceboks--The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom
Also, Rosrin Wuithiran has won the iPad Mini from
the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest!
Congratulations!
Onto the Post of the Day:
It's Better to Give than to Receive
Last week, I decided to take my kids to an assisted living home and perform for the residents living there. Cade had been scheduled to play the guitar while I played the violin, but things fell apart when Cade was scheduled to work far out of town.
Still, my four kids giggled as we drove to the quaint building. Didn't they know I was terrified? I have fun playing with Cade--since he's my crutch--but I'm petrified to play alone.
"I'm nervous," my voice squeaked to the Scribe as all four of my children played so loudly I swear the van started rocking on the freeway. "Calm down," I yelled. "We're going to perform for some people! Don't act like this there." I groaned because being a parent is hard. Half the time I'm raising these kids alone, and that's A LOT of pressure.
"Why are we doing this?" the Scribe asked.
"Well, Dee asked if we'd bring some of her books to give away as a random act of kindness. And I always have to make things complicated, so we're going to perform while we give the books away."
"We're going to perform? You're fiddling. What am I gonna do?"
I shrugged. "Dance. Something. You'll know what to do when we get there."
She looked wearily at the Hippie, the Zombie and Dr. Jones. "Now I'm nervous! I'm just gonna think about making people happy. This is hard work! No wonder Dee made a good nun--she makes being sweet look so easy!" And the truth is that Dee Ready (of Coming Home to Myself) could be an actual saint someday. She's kind and generous. To even think of donating her books like this just warmed my heart.
"I'm not sure if I'm the person who should be donating these books," I told Dee prior to all of this.
"You're just the person," she said. "Wait and see."
After we set up and I stood in front of a room filled with elderly people, I shakily cleared my throat. I had to do this--Dee believed in me.
"We're here today," I gestured toward my four rambunctious children, and myself, "because a generous author has asked for us to share her books with you. A local Baptist church also donated so we could buy dozens of scarves to give to every woman here. These gifts aren't from us. But we're happy to deliver them."
I glanced and saw the Zombie Elf who'd bent down to inspect a wheelchair--I nearly fainted as he pulled on the brake.
We were there to spread joy NOT hurt the residents!
I thought I may die, but then the Scribe smiled widely at me. "Don't worry. You were right, Mama. I do know what to do." She then proceeded to round up her siblings and hand them the scarves. "We're passing them out--spreading joy," she whispered. As my four hooligans walked around the room, the Zombie didn't try breaking anymore wheelchairs; instead he joked with a man in the back of the room. My three-year-old girl nestled up to a kind-looking woman with gray hair. But my oldest daughters were the ones who made my heart swell with joy. The Scribe bent down and wrapped a scarf around one woman's shoulders. "I picked this color for you because it goes perfectly with your eyes." The woman's lips quivered ever so slightly as she looked at my eleven-year-old. She nodded, without saying and word, then squeezed my daughter's hand.
The Hippie followed suit, finding just the right scarf for each woman. As the scarves were given in that personal, loving way, it felt as if the blinds were thrown open and a bunch of flowers had blossomed with the sunlight of a new day.
I played a quick song then. The residents started clapping and I nearly laughed from the joy of it. The Zombie crossed in front of me, looking at everyone and when he sat down, they clapped for him. Dr. Jones, not wanting to miss out, crossed as well, then did a somersault! The Hippie and Scribe started doing tricks--all four of them joined in, dancing, walking and smiling.
I'll never forget that snapshot moment in our lives, of all the people cheering and smiling, of the women gently cherishing those scarves, or how much they seemed to treasure Dee Ready's books as we passed them out at the end of our time there.
Just before we left, the activity director said, "We never have enough copies of books to have book club meetings. Please tell this author 'thank you' from us. Now we'll be able to have our first meeting next month after everyone has read A Cat's Legacy ."
I was proud of my kids, realizing they're pretty great. But I was also blessed in that perfect moment, surrounded in the love of dozens of strangers who'd made us happier than we'd ever imagined possible, and strengthen a girl who'd been terrified to perform alone.
"I know what I'm going to be when I grow up," the Scribe said as we drove away.
"What?" I asked.
"Someone who helps old people."
"That is awesome! What do you want to be?" I asked the rest of my kids.
"A construction worker like Daddy," the Hippie said.
"A wuv-wy pin-cess," sweet Dr. Jones said.
"I dunno," my boy finally sputtered. "Somethin' great!" He looked at Dr. Jones squarely, and yelled. "'Cause my pee pee's bigger than yours!"
Dr. Jones started crying in her little girly voice. The Zombie started singing about his pee pee. My oldest girls played so loudly I swear the van started rocking on the freeway--again. But somehow it had still been a life-changing day.
Us--just goofing around.
Cade is so much fun.
May 31, 2013
Random Acts of Kindness--A Gift in a Graveyard
We decided to visit Zeke's grave on Memorial Day. Cade had a talk with the Zombie Elf about the flag and freedom. It was beautiful, really.
Just before we left to drive the hour it takes to see Zeke's grave, the Zombie Elf insisted, "I need my dream catcher!"
"Why?" I asked. "We need to leave." He couldn't possibly be scared in the day too, could he?
The Zombie Elf started having nightmares earlier this year. Maybe it was my fault. He'd asked what happened to Zeke. And not knowing what to say, I'd answered, "He went to sleep and never woke up."
After that bedtime became terrible. "I don't wanna go to sleep! I might NEVER wake up!" he'd say. So the Zombie Elf's grandma wisely sent him a dream catcher in the mail. The nightmares slowly stopped, all because of his dream catcher which he often held tightly in his arms while he slept.
"Can I bring it?" he pleaded, bringing me back to the moment. "Tomorrow's my birthday. Please let me. Please."
He'd used the birthday excuse! I glanced at the dilapidated dream catcher. It had lost all of its feathers and beauty from long nights of being snuggled in the Zombie's arms. "Fine." I couldn't help smiling.
So we drove and drove, until finally turning into the graveyard. I played my violin and the notes drifted into the wind, just like Zeke's ashes had so many years ago.
The amazing woman, whose sister is buried next to Zeke, had left beautiful flowers on both Zeke's grave and her sister's too. (You can read about her here: An Angel at My Son's Grave.) Some toys we'd left for Zeke--way back in November--were still on his grave as well. That was strange since they're normally removed after a few weeks. I brushed the thought away though and, after playing, I sat on Zeke's grave and thought about life. I know only some of Zeke's ashes are at his grave, and he's been gone for nearly a decade, but visiting his grave still helps me feel close to him. This year I thought of my blessing. Yes, Zeke died, but I have four healthy kids. A boy even born on Cade's birthday--which sometimes falls ironically on Memorial Day--and one of our girls who was born 30 minutes before my birthday.
The Zombie Elf, sensing my seriousness, came up and put his little four-year-old hand on my shoulder. "That was nice of Zeke." He bent down and picked up the toys we'd left months before.
I shook my head. "What was nice, honey?"
"That he bought me some presents! Remember, Mom, my birthday is tomorrow. Looks like at least Zeke remembered."
I nearly snorted. It was so cute he'd forgotten that we'd left those toys. We smiled at each other, and then the Zombie did something I never expected. He pulled an object from behind his back, hugged it, then gingerly propped his precious dream catcher on Zeke's grave. I stared at the treasured belonging. As the light illuminated the sinewy edging and the unraveling leather circle, it didn't seem quite as used and old as it had before. The details gleamed beautifully unique, just the way they were meant to be.
"But you love that," I said.
"I'll be big tomorrow, Mama," the Zombie said, holding up all five of the fingers on his left hand. "Now I need to be tough 'cause Zeke's the one who never woke up. He needs it more than I do."
And my brave little boy, strutted into a dandelion field near the graves.
He played with his three sisters, all of them giggling and smiling. The whole time I kept staring at the dream catcher my son had so selflessly given to honor Zeke, the brother he's always dreamed of.
I posted this story today because you'll never believe what the Zombie just got in the mail from Fran (visit her blog HERE)!
Addressed to the Zombie himself was a package...
...with a dream catcher inside! I'd told Fran about the Zombie's selfless act and she did something amazing for my little boy. He's absolutely thrilled by this random act of kindness!
"This one is staying on my wall," he said. "I'll keep it to remind me of how great I am because I gave one of these to Zeke! That was super nice."
"You are nice!" I said.
"You wanna know something else about me?" he asked and I nodded. "I love my dream catcher. And people who give dream catchers are sooooo great too!"
Amazon.com Widgets
Other posts about kindness:
Just before we left to drive the hour it takes to see Zeke's grave, the Zombie Elf insisted, "I need my dream catcher!"
"Why?" I asked. "We need to leave." He couldn't possibly be scared in the day too, could he?
The Zombie Elf started having nightmares earlier this year. Maybe it was my fault. He'd asked what happened to Zeke. And not knowing what to say, I'd answered, "He went to sleep and never woke up."
After that bedtime became terrible. "I don't wanna go to sleep! I might NEVER wake up!" he'd say. So the Zombie Elf's grandma wisely sent him a dream catcher in the mail. The nightmares slowly stopped, all because of his dream catcher which he often held tightly in his arms while he slept.
"Can I bring it?" he pleaded, bringing me back to the moment. "Tomorrow's my birthday. Please let me. Please."
He'd used the birthday excuse! I glanced at the dilapidated dream catcher. It had lost all of its feathers and beauty from long nights of being snuggled in the Zombie's arms. "Fine." I couldn't help smiling.
So we drove and drove, until finally turning into the graveyard. I played my violin and the notes drifted into the wind, just like Zeke's ashes had so many years ago.
The amazing woman, whose sister is buried next to Zeke, had left beautiful flowers on both Zeke's grave and her sister's too. (You can read about her here: An Angel at My Son's Grave.) Some toys we'd left for Zeke--way back in November--were still on his grave as well. That was strange since they're normally removed after a few weeks. I brushed the thought away though and, after playing, I sat on Zeke's grave and thought about life. I know only some of Zeke's ashes are at his grave, and he's been gone for nearly a decade, but visiting his grave still helps me feel close to him. This year I thought of my blessing. Yes, Zeke died, but I have four healthy kids. A boy even born on Cade's birthday--which sometimes falls ironically on Memorial Day--and one of our girls who was born 30 minutes before my birthday.
The Zombie Elf, sensing my seriousness, came up and put his little four-year-old hand on my shoulder. "That was nice of Zeke." He bent down and picked up the toys we'd left months before.
I shook my head. "What was nice, honey?"
"That he bought me some presents! Remember, Mom, my birthday is tomorrow. Looks like at least Zeke remembered."
I nearly snorted. It was so cute he'd forgotten that we'd left those toys. We smiled at each other, and then the Zombie did something I never expected. He pulled an object from behind his back, hugged it, then gingerly propped his precious dream catcher on Zeke's grave. I stared at the treasured belonging. As the light illuminated the sinewy edging and the unraveling leather circle, it didn't seem quite as used and old as it had before. The details gleamed beautifully unique, just the way they were meant to be.
"But you love that," I said.
"I'll be big tomorrow, Mama," the Zombie said, holding up all five of the fingers on his left hand. "Now I need to be tough 'cause Zeke's the one who never woke up. He needs it more than I do."
And my brave little boy, strutted into a dandelion field near the graves.
He played with his three sisters, all of them giggling and smiling. The whole time I kept staring at the dream catcher my son had so selflessly given to honor Zeke, the brother he's always dreamed of.
I posted this story today because you'll never believe what the Zombie just got in the mail from Fran (visit her blog HERE)!
Addressed to the Zombie himself was a package...
...with a dream catcher inside! I'd told Fran about the Zombie's selfless act and she did something amazing for my little boy. He's absolutely thrilled by this random act of kindness!
"This one is staying on my wall," he said. "I'll keep it to remind me of how great I am because I gave one of these to Zeke! That was super nice."
"You are nice!" I said.
"You wanna know something else about me?" he asked and I nodded. "I love my dream catcher. And people who give dream catchers are sooooo great too!"
Amazon.com Widgets
Other posts about kindness:
If you'd like your Random Acts of Kindness Post Considered for Publication Please . . .
If you'd like your Random Acts of Kindness post(s) considered for publication, please send the post to:
editors@waymanpublishing.com
All profit from this book--through 2013--will be donated to charity.
Also, today is the last day to try winning the iPad Mini (go HERE for details), and download the FREE eBooks from Wayman Publishing below.
Amazon.com Widgets
Other big news! Many of Wayman's books will be available as audiobooks within the next few weeks including:
Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales
The Blogger's Survival Guide
The Golden Sky
Bible Girl & the Bad Boy
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
Laughing into the Fourth Dimension
by Larry Lefkowitz
Giveaway ends June 17, 2013.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Enter to win
Don't miss out on the great posts below:
editors@waymanpublishing.com
All profit from this book--through 2013--will be donated to charity.
Also, today is the last day to try winning the iPad Mini (go HERE for details), and download the FREE eBooks from Wayman Publishing below.
Amazon.com Widgets
Other big news! Many of Wayman's books will be available as audiobooks within the next few weeks including:
Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales
The Blogger's Survival Guide
The Golden Sky
Bible Girl & the Bad Boy
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px;
font-style: normal; background: white; }
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
Laughing into the Fourth Dimension
by Larry Lefkowitz
Giveaway ends June 17, 2013.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Enter to win
Don't miss out on the great posts below:
May 29, 2013
Random Acts of Kindness--How Author Stephen Covey Changed My Life
Cade and I performed as homeless street musicians. We'd play the guitar and violin for hours each night, hoping to draw a crowd. Days went by and we only made a few dollars. I stopped wearing belly shirts because my ribs stuck out. Starving and not being able to afford food made me feel desperate.
“God,” I prayed, “please help us make some money so we won’t starve. I came to Hawaii trying to find myself. Instead I’m realizing how much I hate starvation.”
We finally played another song, a fast one we called “Famous for a Moment” because it pulled people in. That’s when a fancy car drove up behind us.
“Hey, you two musicians,” a man said from the driver’s seat.
“Us?” Cade asked.
“Yeah. Would the two of you like to play at a party? I’ll pay you well. Food and drinks will be there. You can help yourselves and eat as much as you like.”
That was all I needed to hear, because food was my weakness. “Absolutely. I’m in if you are,” I said to Cade.
After a second of studying the man’s fancy car, Cade nodded. “It sounds legit.” With that, we grabbed our packs and our instruments and got into the back seat.
“You two are talented,” the man said.
“Thank you,” I replied. “We’ve had a lot of fun in Hawaii.”
We drove for a while, and I thought how fun it felt being inside a car. When we got to the house, gorgeous plants grew everywhere. The place was very fancy in a tasteful sort of way. It made me wish I’d done my makeup or at least been able to afford the good kind.
“Wow,” Cade gasped.
“This is somethin’ else.”
We walked in and the nicest people greeted us. But before we talked too much, the man who’d hired us insisted that we eat. And then perform. Just looking at the food seemed like being in Heaven. I tried acting sophisticated, as if I wasn’t starving and I actually lived in a home and not on the street. I felt so low-class, but those people remained kind, visiting with us as we slowly ate the elegant food that I wanted to wolf down.
I met one photographer who’d written a book about Hawaii. He’d taken all of the pictures for it and as I looked at his work, it amazed me. “How beautiful!” He gave me a copy of his book and I put it in my pack. I’d always wanted to be an author, so meeting a real live photographer and writer was a dream come true.
I wrote a ninety-page book when I was in elementary school. Then in junior high I was on the school newspaper. It wasn’t until high school that I gave up my dream of being a writer. I’d applied to be in the Honors Writing Program. The program’s teacher just required some poetry, short stories, and outlines. I got everything together and gave them to her. She called me in after school. I couldn’t wait to talk with her because she held all of my hopes in her hands.
“Elisa,” she said slowly. “Some people aren’t meant to write. They’ll never be good at it. Even if they try, it just isn’t a gift they have. You . . . I’m sorry to say that you are one of those people. Keep pursuing music. You have real talent with that.”
I gave up writing and promised myself I’d never get rejected again. But just looking at that book in Hawaii made me want to try writing again.
We played on and off for a couple of hours. The whole time I thought about writing and how someone knew I wasn’t good at it.
After we finished playing, the host visited with us for a long time and I wonder now if he knew how much his words would change my life. “Both of you are very unique, special people,” he said. “I’d like to give you something.” He handed me a book. “My son wrote this. I think I was supposed to meet you, to give you this book. It’s about becoming the person you’re meant to be.”
I traced the book’s cover and read aloud. “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens.”
“We met another author here too,” Cade said. “So unreal.”
“This is one of the most amazing nights of my life. Good food. Wonderful people. I feel like royalty. Really,” I said.
Our host chuckled. “I’m glad I followed my instincts and asked both of you to come here.”
“Me, too. It’s inspiring talking with all of you. It was always one of my biggest dreams to be an author.”
“Then maybe you’ll write a book someday,” the host said. “Believe in yourself and you’ll accomplish great things.”
“Thank you.” All through the rest of the night I kept thinking about how much love shone in his eyes when he talked about his son. That was one lucky kid.
The host paid us five hundred dollars! Then he ended up asking us to stay the night in his son’s room—which was practically a whole house. We stayed, cleaned up, and sneaked away the next morning. Sleeping in a real bed just once felt so good. That money had made us rich. But more than anything, the kindness from the previous night stayed with me.
When we got to the strip, a fellow street performer sat next to us. “Both of you seem pretty happy. What happened when that man picked you up last night?”
“We played at the most wonderful party,” I said. “It felt like a dream. Oh—and we got two books. One is from a photographer and then this one was written by the host’s son.” I opened my pack and showed the books to him.
“Do you know who Sean Covey is?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“This author is very well known, but his father—the man who picked you up—he’s also an author. Stephen Covey!”
“No way. I wonder why he didn’t say anything?”
“I don’t know. If I were him I’d be telling everyone. His book alone has sold millions of copies.”
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“Becoming the person you’re meant to be. Pursuing your dreams. He was really nice to you?”
“So nice, I almost swore God sent him our way.”
“Now there’s one author who practices what he preaches.”
I smiled broadly and sat on the sidewalk. Not only did we get a good meal, but I felt as if another part of my journey had been fulfilled. I was discovering myself. Maybe I would take Stephen Covey’s advice. I didn’t think I’d ever write again since other people told me I wasn’t meant to be a writer, but I could do other things. I just needed to believe in myself, develop necessary skills, and hopefully my destiny would follow.
-Excerpt from "Homeless in Hawaii"
It makes me cry because I never got to tell Stephen Covey thank you. I always planned on finishing my book Homeless in Hawaii
and then sending it to him. For a kid who had NOTHING--to be treated
with such kindness and generosity is astounding . . . So today I decided
to write this and say, "Thank you, Stephen. From a girl who had a
small chance of accomplishing anything. I grew up, and because of kind
people like you, I became a published author . . . Thank you for taking
a chance on a homeless kid--you inspired me to accomplish great
things. You inspired me to try."
-Elisa
"Homeless in Hawaii" has been marked down to 99 cents for the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.
Also, don't forget to check out the FREE eBooks from Wayman Publishing and the amazing posts below.
Amazon.com Widgets
“God,” I prayed, “please help us make some money so we won’t starve. I came to Hawaii trying to find myself. Instead I’m realizing how much I hate starvation.”
We finally played another song, a fast one we called “Famous for a Moment” because it pulled people in. That’s when a fancy car drove up behind us.
“Hey, you two musicians,” a man said from the driver’s seat.
“Us?” Cade asked.
“Yeah. Would the two of you like to play at a party? I’ll pay you well. Food and drinks will be there. You can help yourselves and eat as much as you like.”
That was all I needed to hear, because food was my weakness. “Absolutely. I’m in if you are,” I said to Cade.
After a second of studying the man’s fancy car, Cade nodded. “It sounds legit.” With that, we grabbed our packs and our instruments and got into the back seat.
“You two are talented,” the man said.
“Thank you,” I replied. “We’ve had a lot of fun in Hawaii.”
We drove for a while, and I thought how fun it felt being inside a car. When we got to the house, gorgeous plants grew everywhere. The place was very fancy in a tasteful sort of way. It made me wish I’d done my makeup or at least been able to afford the good kind.
“Wow,” Cade gasped.
“This is somethin’ else.”
We walked in and the nicest people greeted us. But before we talked too much, the man who’d hired us insisted that we eat. And then perform. Just looking at the food seemed like being in Heaven. I tried acting sophisticated, as if I wasn’t starving and I actually lived in a home and not on the street. I felt so low-class, but those people remained kind, visiting with us as we slowly ate the elegant food that I wanted to wolf down.
I met one photographer who’d written a book about Hawaii. He’d taken all of the pictures for it and as I looked at his work, it amazed me. “How beautiful!” He gave me a copy of his book and I put it in my pack. I’d always wanted to be an author, so meeting a real live photographer and writer was a dream come true.
I wrote a ninety-page book when I was in elementary school. Then in junior high I was on the school newspaper. It wasn’t until high school that I gave up my dream of being a writer. I’d applied to be in the Honors Writing Program. The program’s teacher just required some poetry, short stories, and outlines. I got everything together and gave them to her. She called me in after school. I couldn’t wait to talk with her because she held all of my hopes in her hands.
“Elisa,” she said slowly. “Some people aren’t meant to write. They’ll never be good at it. Even if they try, it just isn’t a gift they have. You . . . I’m sorry to say that you are one of those people. Keep pursuing music. You have real talent with that.”
I gave up writing and promised myself I’d never get rejected again. But just looking at that book in Hawaii made me want to try writing again.
We played on and off for a couple of hours. The whole time I thought about writing and how someone knew I wasn’t good at it.
After we finished playing, the host visited with us for a long time and I wonder now if he knew how much his words would change my life. “Both of you are very unique, special people,” he said. “I’d like to give you something.” He handed me a book. “My son wrote this. I think I was supposed to meet you, to give you this book. It’s about becoming the person you’re meant to be.”
I traced the book’s cover and read aloud. “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens.”
“We met another author here too,” Cade said. “So unreal.”
“This is one of the most amazing nights of my life. Good food. Wonderful people. I feel like royalty. Really,” I said.
Our host chuckled. “I’m glad I followed my instincts and asked both of you to come here.”
“Me, too. It’s inspiring talking with all of you. It was always one of my biggest dreams to be an author.”
“Then maybe you’ll write a book someday,” the host said. “Believe in yourself and you’ll accomplish great things.”
“Thank you.” All through the rest of the night I kept thinking about how much love shone in his eyes when he talked about his son. That was one lucky kid.
The host paid us five hundred dollars! Then he ended up asking us to stay the night in his son’s room—which was practically a whole house. We stayed, cleaned up, and sneaked away the next morning. Sleeping in a real bed just once felt so good. That money had made us rich. But more than anything, the kindness from the previous night stayed with me.
When we got to the strip, a fellow street performer sat next to us. “Both of you seem pretty happy. What happened when that man picked you up last night?”
“We played at the most wonderful party,” I said. “It felt like a dream. Oh—and we got two books. One is from a photographer and then this one was written by the host’s son.” I opened my pack and showed the books to him.
“Do you know who Sean Covey is?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“This author is very well known, but his father—the man who picked you up—he’s also an author. Stephen Covey!”
“No way. I wonder why he didn’t say anything?”
“I don’t know. If I were him I’d be telling everyone. His book alone has sold millions of copies.”
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“Becoming the person you’re meant to be. Pursuing your dreams. He was really nice to you?”
“So nice, I almost swore God sent him our way.”
“Now there’s one author who practices what he preaches.”
I smiled broadly and sat on the sidewalk. Not only did we get a good meal, but I felt as if another part of my journey had been fulfilled. I was discovering myself. Maybe I would take Stephen Covey’s advice. I didn’t think I’d ever write again since other people told me I wasn’t meant to be a writer, but I could do other things. I just needed to believe in myself, develop necessary skills, and hopefully my destiny would follow.
-Excerpt from "Homeless in Hawaii"
It makes me cry because I never got to tell Stephen Covey thank you. I always planned on finishing my book Homeless in Hawaii
and then sending it to him. For a kid who had NOTHING--to be treated
with such kindness and generosity is astounding . . . So today I decided
to write this and say, "Thank you, Stephen. From a girl who had a
small chance of accomplishing anything. I grew up, and because of kind
people like you, I became a published author . . . Thank you for taking
a chance on a homeless kid--you inspired me to accomplish great
things. You inspired me to try."
-Elisa
"Homeless in Hawaii" has been marked down to 99 cents for the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.
Also, don't forget to check out the FREE eBooks from Wayman Publishing and the amazing posts below.
Amazon.com Widgets
