Finding Blog Reports Inspiring: A short Thanks

I want to thank the people that read my blog.  Opening reports and seeing the Google Plus interest has driven me to focus on always being myself.  My writing is wordy at times.  Then it's just wacky.  But honestly, just writing whatever I feel has been more relevant and looked at and I have so much gratitude for those of you who leave your marks on my pages.

I just felt compelled to find some joy in the middle of this emotional roller coaster I am experiencing (BTW in HDMI) [Hellbent Determined Mother's Incalescence].  I still don't comprehend how all this works and promoting my blog or even how to translate some of the things the reports say, but you guys simply make it easy.  Write more.  We'll tell you if we like it.  

Many thanks.

M. Faye Hall

the writer.

Have any ideas? Questions? Ask.

Try to show me your unsolicited body parts, well, then Kiss MY ASK.

The Silence that Hurts: I Feel Defenseless

My Name is Marsha Faye.  I have a wonderful little family that is all mine.  I have a husband and a daughter.  They are a source of boundless happiness and healing.  These are the happiest years of my 40 year existence on this planet.  I was broken without understanding exactly all the why until John and Natalie made me decide that knowing WHY was not something that defined me anymore.  Two people made about three quarters of my my life actually be just part of me.  To them I am amazing and in simple words, the WHY of amazing is because I am Marsha Faye and I love them.

Gradually setting down baggage hasn't been something I set out to do.  Those bags were my shields, my badges of courage, and the only things I could convince myself getting through gave me experience to protect myself and my little family from EVER knowing desolation.  But being loved by them has left a path of strewn baggage in my wake.

I sit here looking ahead and in the wee hours of the morning I realize how desperately I want that baggage right now.  I feel so exposed and unable to move.

My baby girl is going with me to check out a new school tomorrow because she was bullied and the weapons used to terrorize her were provided by adults.  How can I defeat this foe I want to just obliterate?  I can't.

I must accept this silence.  I silently have reviewed the wreckage I don't know how long I can do it.  Everything in my little family was shook in revelation.  How dare they do this?

They didn't dare.  Actually they didn't care enough to shut up.

And to me, It's like them saying Natalie isn't a person.

Nattie in her Church Dress

Well OK.  You insensitive unprofessional narrow minded weasels, she's not.  She's a little soul.  She's a symphony of emotional delight and depth of character.  AND SHE'S MINE.  I am sleepless and hurt but intent on finding a sensible way to SCREAM  every single thing two inches from your faces or with my hand on a Bible.  Not for mere vengence, but to keep another little soul from feeling what my Natalie has poured out.  Mostly, from my center, I want my daughter to know how completely I believe her.  I can't take the pain of what happened away, but I want her to see that I want justice for her and for my daughter to know that I will always be her champion.  I have raised her to believe that everyone is accountable, and right now part of the hurt is the fact those adults THINK that everything they did was acceptable and with good intentions.  From 5 in the morning I understand how ludicrous my anger would be to them.  You see, they are broken people that have jobs.  It's cut and dried.  They are done.  OH NO they are not.  They will speak and be accountable, in front of her.  Just leaving is not the right example.  It imparts we are retreating.  I want my daughter to feel empowered and know the choice to leave was a DELIBERATE one.

John.  I worry for him.  He wants this to be over and I know.  Oh my husband, I love you.  Its alright.

But for now, I must be silent.  I must wait and talk to my girl again.  I must be crypic in my blog... that's really my journal, because its not your business.  Its my pain.  It's her pain.  And I must release the pressure somehow without judgement on anything other than my inalienable RIGHT to my emotions, opionion and dogged defense of my little family.  

Double Edge Sword: Mom and Confidant

I am a parent.  I have a beautiful, wonderful eight year old daughter.  I can't choose just one word to describe her.  However, I will say I believe I didn't know the meaning of joy until the moment she was born.  I know she is destined to do wonderful things, because she already does.  Put her in a room and people light up around her.  She is captivating.  She inspires me to be the best person I possibly can be.  Note the word person.  Not Mother.  Mother seems too shallow and narrow-minded.  She brings out the very essence of who I am, then in some way, I move forward as a person.  A long time ago my husband told me he would be honored to be the father of my child.  I must add its an honor to be her Mother.

Nattie and I have something that just feels like magic.  God made me to be this little girl's mother.  I just know he did.

My vision in purple before Church

And now I'm jumping hurdles that seem surreal.  Guidance Counselors.  And my little girl has it all figured out, and does not like to be singled out.  What to do?  More to come.  I must get ready for the happiness of skating.

Big Magic Transforms into Ultra: My Computer

Yes, it took patience.  Patience I didn't feel I possessed.  Yet, here I am, my custom built Ultra Magic under my fingertips bathed in the soft glow of Blue LED lighting from my computer fan.  People rebooting has just become sexy.  And oh so quiet.  Delicious.

Slobber.

I can now formally request a premit to multitask.  I realize I made claim I simply couldn't anymore.  I'm delighted to say I was wrong.  Amazing how perspective changes an idea.  The ability to scan pictures while listening to music and just browsing the internet, all at one time.  So I am decidedly happy.

The journey to finding that one paid professional has come to a close with yet another success.  There are so many things I can do, and I try to be as independent and thrifty as I can.  The best advice I can offer anyone is to see when to find help for a project.  In the end, admitting feasibility and scope to yourself is the best strategy for success.  It's still my project.  I took the time to find the right Professional that saw my vision and made it happen.

Done right.  Finished completely.  I have a source of reliable dependable information that cares about me, plus all my computers.  Lovely isn't it?

Now to go focus on the next big thing, which happens to be rest.  I have spent too much time in front of this screen.  It makes it easier to unplug and leave knowing the next time I'm here, I have more time to spend doing what I love.  Writing.

Parenting Picky: A Nose Story

One of my Google Plus Friends, Bobo Uzala, have been laughingly talking about a picky subject.  I have a couple of photos of my daughter and I with our fingers in our nose... and he commented on them.  Which led to some laughing and sharing one of my house rules/parenting strategies.  I decided to include this entry in my blog because its just good fun and the stories that lead up to why I parent this way might make a person just laugh.

So thanks Bobo!  You picked this one for me~

Parenting gives me complexes.  Watching other children absolutely makes this paramount.  Have you ever been in public and watched a kid really gross you out?  I see kids do some gross things.  That's what kids do.  They horrify us into action.  Bad habits are so easily looked over as a phase.  However, one can say that when its somebody else's gross kid.  One thing that I find incredibly gross happens to be booger picking.  Nothing disgusts me more than seeing a kid knuckle deep in their nose and then eating a plucked out prize.  *shudder*  Then there's the multi-taskers... kids with a thumb in their mouth and a finger in their nostril.  *ooh how disgusting*  The thing is, you just can't avoid boogers.  Everybody has them.  We've all had that epic thing inside our nose that must come out.  My grievance with boogers is not the existence, but the disposal.  I've never told my child not to get rid of a booger, I've merely helped her avoid a terrible habit that other people tease kids mercilessly about.  A habit parents get bent out of shape over.  PDBP.  Public displays of Booger picking.  Take that to the bathroom!  Get a tissue!  Blow!  Anything, but do that in front of me!!

This was a picking lesson gone funny!

So when I first saw my daughter start with the booger thing, I came up with this house rule:  You cannot pick your own nose, however, you can pick someone else's.  WHAT?  By doing this, I pounced on my daughter with my finger whenever I caught her trying to pick her nose and offered my deluxe help.  Then I would offer up my nose for her to 'help' excavate since I couldn't pick mine.  All this horrified my daughter and she would run away into the bathroom or somewhere else privately to get rid of whatever what tickling her nose.  It was a way to point out I could see what she was doing and to remind her how yucky it was.  This plan worked and the result is much laughter and I don't catch my kid digging her nose in public.  She is a staunch believer in tissue.

That does not mean I haven't had to be there for nosebleeds and other fun things we encounter as parents, but it has definitely made my daughter more aware of what she's doing.

She loves my retelling of C's comet.  An unforgettable booger that should go down in history.  It all happened when when C spent the night with her Mom.  It's one of those things you find and think to yourself:  Wow!  That's something I'd show off, but not really.  I found my niece's booger the next day and it was like a bloody comet.  The huge bloody thing was crusted on a blanket and was so big I still laugh.  The trail was at least a good foot.  However, the story is better.

So anyway, I hear pacing in the night and it's my cousin with her daughter.  She's freaking out in the middle of the night because her child had a nosebleed and she had no idea of how to handle it and her daughter was freaking out because she was.  I come up my basement stairs to find the panic and blood everywhere.  I simply take C away from her Mom and open my bedroom door and tell John to get up.  Wow!  In the bright lights of my bathroom I have C, my niece in my arms.  Her face is coated in blood and she has white blond hair with bloody streaks in it.  To get her to stop crying, I just ask:  C?  Did you bite your Mommy's head off?  C looks at me and grins with the biggest bloodiest smile ever and croaks:  YEAH!  I laugh and John hands me the boo-boo bunny.  The boo-boo bunny is an icepack with rabbit ears and I start hopping the bunny around her nose and it stops bleeding.  The whole time her Mom is just in the hallway helplessly watching the old pros handle her child and laugh it all away.  I told C:  Well look, that Mommy's head grew right back!  Be careful next time!

My cousin simply was grateful we were there to calm C down and let her calm down too.  It doesn't sound as funny as being there, but WOW! it was hilarious.  Then there was finding that booger the next day.  It made me understand how hard that kid worked to get so bloody.  And I'll never forget that smile she had with all her bloody teeth.  She looked pleased that it wasn't serious, only Mommy's head.  *FULL BELLY LAUGH*

Picking Those Moments