Textures

“Anything looked at closely becomes wonderful.”

– A. R. Ammons

Once again, the oddball pictures I take when I’m out and about have been put to good use- this time for the Weekly Photo Challenge: Textures. It was difficult deciding which to choose. Lucky for me, I see another photo challenge coming up in a few weeks that also uses the theme “Texture” so I am able to hold back a handful for the next one.

Thanks for stopping in!

-Kat

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Small Wonders

“Those who find beauty in all of nature will find themselves at one with the secrets of life itself.” – L. Wolfe Gilbert

There is such peace in nature. When I need to clear my head, I find that taking a walk surrounded by trees, water or both helps me to sort things out. Since I began taking pictures, it’s become even more therapeutic for me. As I have been slowly learning how to use my camera, I discovered that I enjoy taking closeups. Flowers, leaves, weeds and more are the perfect subjects! And the concentration helps me to chase out unwanted thoughts and to focus on the beauty in front of me. It seems like we are so busy that we forget to take time and be present in the moment.

Thanks for stopping by!

-Kat

Daily Post- Weekly Photo Challenge: Earth

The Return of the Dress

Two years ago, I wrote about a dress. It wasn’t just any dress- it was my daughter’s prom dress. You can read the original post here-  All Because of a Dress.

At the time that I wrote that post, the dress was crumpled up in a garment bag, stuffed behind the chair in my home office. It was a long time before I took it out of its hiding place.

It now hangs on the back of my office door. It represents my last days with Kerri, the last dress I would buy for my daughter. And that is where I thought the story ended. But this is Kris. And as I’ve learned, not everything is permanent.

Within a few short months after purchasing that dress, I would barely recognize that my child…. or my life. That was 5 years ago.

I’ve written about the different emotions I experienced as Kerri transitioned to Kris., female to male. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve reassured other parents that everything they are feeling is valid and OKAY. And yet, the one thought- the one idea, wish, call it whatever you want- that one thing that I cannot think without intense heartache and so much self-loathing for being so incredibly selfish is the desire that I had my daughter back. I can’t speak those words- when I attempt to even say anything that implies that I ever felt like that- well, I can’t. The words just won’t come. I beat myself up. The stream of reprimands is relentless. It’s one of my deepest secrets and it’s painful to even type those words. 

And yet,  if I hear those words from another mother’s lips, I am the fiercest in letting her know that it is perfectly normal to feel that way and to just FEEL it. It’s OKAY! This is your child you are talking about here and those emotions are so strong. Don’t suppress them. Don’t feel guilty. It doesn’t mean that you don’t love your child- you are just letting go of the child you thought you had. But when it comes to me? I just can’t give myself a break or listen to my own words- not me- nope.

And why did I have to keep that dress? Any dress? I knew that Kris would never wear it again and might even be hurt that I chose to keep it. Why did I force myself to write about it at that time- when the pain was so fresh. That was torture to write. I remember sitting in the very place I’m sitting right now, feeling like the words were being torn from me.

Letting go of Kerri was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. A year and a half ago, I wouldn’t have believed that there would be anything more difficult. If someone had said, “Just wait, Kat! It gets harder….. and the punchline is that you won’t see it coming until it hits you. Oh, and it’s not Kris,” I wouldn’t have believed it. As it was happening, I didn’t see it until I was in it. But that’s not what this post is about.

This post is about that dress- hanging there. I hardly look at it because when I’m in the room, the door is open.

And then Kris came home from spring break. Kris, my middle child, 24 years old, who was assigned female at birth, transitioned to male at 18, and then changed pronouns (they, them, their) and appearance (feminine) at 23. Not my daughter. Not my son. 

So, Kris came to my office door to talk to me and I saw the dress, hidden from Kris’s view because the door was open. I hesitated. Then I said, “I want to show you something. I’m not sure why I have it. I don’t know how you are going to feel.” 

I showed Kris the dress. I felt sheepish, embarrassed, guilty, anxious, sad….. I guess I shouldn’t have worried. Kris looked at the dress fondly and said, “Maybe I can replace the black sash and use it as my wedding dress.”

And because the mind works in miraculous ways, before the swell of emotions could rise, they were swept up and locked in a box and I was able to smile at Kris and respond, “That could be done.” I admit that I ignored the little scratching and tapping sounds coming from inside that box. So much feeling going on in there. So many stray thoughts did not make it in there- wedding dress, but not my daughter, nonbinary, dress dress wedding dress.

Maybe the story of the dress is not over. And quite possibly all of those things that I let go of when Kerri came out and became Kris aren’t gone after all. After that conversation with Kris and admitting that I still have the dress, I realized a few things.

It was hard to let go of all my hopes and dreams for my daughter but when I stripped them all down to bare bones I saw that they were still the same, they might look a little different than I thought they would. And that’s okay because I know my child very well and whatever that dream wedding was that I thought they were going to have, regardless of gender or name, Kris is so incredibly unique that no one knows what their wedding will be like, least of all Kris! 🙂

Now that a lot of what I thought was gone is back, I look at it much differently than I did before. It’s all fluid and not really important. Having my children live happy productive lives where they love and are loved, are kind, generous and caring people…..that’s what matters most.

I’ve managed to work through most of the contents of my mind’s locked box. The only thing that remains are pronouns (a topic for another day) and a label. Since Kris came out, I have grown to dislike labels but the one I struggle with most is a label that accurately expresses how I feel for Kris. And this is a biggie for me.

I have been told that son and daughter are just words, that they don’t mean anything, that child means the same thing and it’s just not that big of a deal. But for me, it is. I feel that daughter and son have an emotional attachment to them that is not present in the words child or kid or offspring. Child seems so impersonal and distant. I have been told these words hold the meaning you give to them. But I can’t get past it. It doesn’t mean that I want Kris to be my daughter. It simply means that I wish I had a word for Kris that describes the depth of feeling I have for this kid that matches. And I have been reduced to feeling guilty when calling Michael or Andrew my sons, so I try not to refer to any of my children as anything.

I’m listening to myself as I write this and a little voice keeps screaming- it’s just a label, it doesn’t matter! And the truth is, if this is the biggest problem I am facing with Kris these days, I’ll take it!

My love for my children has only grown stronger as they have grown up. I love the very cool people they have become and I can’t wait to see what their futures hold!

via Daily Prompt: Label

Your Inside is Out 2.0

Just over five years into the life changing journey that I have experienced with my non-binary child, I have started to revisit earlier posts. They are from a time when we were in a different place than we are now.

I am sharing a post from April 2014, when my trans kid, Kris, identified as male and used he, him, his as pronouns. I am leaving it in its original form, with the only revision being my addition at the end. 

If you are unfamiliar with Kris’s story, you can catch up HERE

I originally wrote this entry 18 months ago. I find it interesting that time and a little perspective make all the difference.

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October 2012 “Your outside is in and your inside is out.” I don’t know exactly what John Lennon was referring to in the song Everybody’s Got Something to Hide… Whether it’s drugs, sex or spirituality, it doesn’t matter to me. Right now I can relate to the song. For quite some time I have been feeling like my outside is in and my inside is out. Today is one of those inside out days.

About 6 months ago, K asked if I would mind taking down his senior picture. It was hanging on the wall in between his brothers’ school pictures. I didn’t have a hard time with that. In fact, the picture had seemed like a sort of taunt every time I saw it. It’s a beautiful picture. K looks incredible in the picture. Yes, I could see where that might be a problem for him. His hair and make up are perfect. Lovely smile. Sparkling eyes. A gorgeous girl. Definitely not an accurate representation of my middle child, who was now a boy. I took it down. Now there was a blank spot in between my two other children’s pictures. And now instead of being taunted by the photo of the daughter who did not exist, I was being haunted by a blank space. That lasted for about 5 months. Every time I walked past that well, which was countless times a day, it seemed to mock me, the blank spot magnified. When someone came over, I was sure their eyes jumped to that empty space and what was missing. Finally I took the other pictures down as well and had a blank wall with nails poking out waiting for something to be hung on them. It was easier to look at that empty wall. It seemed really blank and took up more space than I remembered but it was definitely easier. When I mentioned first, the senior picture coming down and then next, all the pictures coming down to my mother and sister, both seemed to be upset by the idea. My sister got defensive about the “girl” pictures she had around her house. To both mom and sis, I repeated that no one was asking anyone to do anything. And the truth was, I wasn’t. I was just informing them so it wouldn’t be a shock when they came over. If they came over. Ever again. I wanted K to be comfortable in his own home. And I wanted him to be able to bring friends home, if he wanted.

I knew that there were probably other pictures that made K uncomfortable so I mentioned to him that in the future, we would be doing a whole house/all pictures overhaul. We would take everything down and then decide what’s going back up. That way, he could remove anything that caused him discomfort or pain. Was taking down these photos going to cause me some heartache? Sure, but I would get over it. And I told myself that, although my heart ached at the thought of removing those beloved photographs.

A few days later, something clicked inside me. I’m not sure what triggered it, but I knew that the time had come to tackle the pictures. It was time to move on. Before I could do that, I needed to do one thing. I went through our pre-digital camera photo albums and started scanning the “girl” pictures of K from birth on up. That was the cause of the inside out feeling. K at different ages evoked different emotions. The baby/toddler/preschool days filled my heart with love. The early elementary days made me smile. What caught me off guard (and probably shouldn’t have) was the early teen years. I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart at the sight of my middle child with full make up and a woman’s figure. In my head, I know that’s what he looked like. It was such a sharp contrast to the boy who lived with me these days. Such a shock to the system to remember how girly my girl was. My emotions were all askew. I was mourning for the loss of my daughter once again. I was proud of the young man he was becoming. I was amazed at how much an ultra feminine picture taken 15 months ago could look so wrong. I was happy, sad, angry. All at once.

My goal was to take my special girl pictures and make an album. A sort of letting go project that would keep my memories safe and in a place where I could easily see them when needed. I told my mom about this, once again- not to cause pain or guilt or trouble- just as a warning. She replied almost angrily that she was probably going to take all of her pictures down. I just couldn’t win. Once again with the people that were expecting me to lead them in supporting me and my kids, I had done the wrong thing.

Once again, I knew that this was her issue and not mine but it just made me wonder if I was correct in my guess at her anger. Was I making my parents deal with something they didn’t want to face? Or were they embarrassed by K and ticked off at me for not nipping “this phase” in the bud? Or was it their inability to accept it and their guilt over not supporting us?

“Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey.” ~John Lennon

April 2014  I’m happy to report that after my picture overhaul, K sorted out all the pictures into two groups. There were quite a few that we could display if they were black and white. Removing pink or purple made all the difference. Yes, there is a gaping hole of about 10 years when K’s pictures are just too girly and we don’t display those. But it really is okay. I love the pictures I have out. Little 2 year old K wearing his big brothers windbreaker, jeans and hair swept up in a baseball cap- that’s my little boy- the one that was always there, trying to get out. I showed my mom those pictures and said, “See, he was there all along. These are K.” I’m working on a scrapbook. It’s therapeutic for me to remember little snippets of that little girl and I have realized that I don’t have to let her go. I had a daughter for 18-1/2 years and I’ve had a son for 2-1/2 years. But I’ve had my middle child, K, for 21 years.

February 2017 It’s hard to believe that Kris will turn 24 soon. Much has happened in the 22 months since I first published this post and the 3-1/2 years since I began writing it. While Kris is still searching to find their comfort level in expressing who they are, they seem to be settled (and more at peace) with identifying as non-binary and using they, them, their pronouns. Their gender expression is strictly feminine, and often they are taken to be a young lady. (And Kris assures me that this is fine.)

A few months ago, Kris asked if we could find a picture that accurately represents who they are up on the wall. This would be the wall where my children’s school pictures were displayed, with the final photographs being their senior pictures. In the Great Photo Purge of 2012 I struggled with a replacement and finally Kris provided one of his abstract self portraits. Not having a studio portrait of Kris that compared with my sons’ senior pictures, I asked Kris how they felt about the senior picture going back up. Kris agreed that it was the best option and I dusted off Kris’s senior picture and placed it back on the wall. I will admit that I do a slight double-take at times, not expecting to see it there but it’s nice to have it back. Especially since in the picture, 2011 Kerri looks exactly like Kris does now.

All of those photographs tell Kris’s story. If I was to lay out a smattering of pictures of Kris spanning the last almost 24 years, I would see my baby girl who grew into a spirited toddler and precocious preschooler who alternated between begging to take ballet and wanting to do whatever her big brother was doing. I would watch Kerri’s energy and personality merge with her determination to become a pre-adolescent finding a way to survive. My heart would swell with pride and ache with sorrow at the teen years when Kerri was battling to make it through and somehow managed to accomplish so much that I’m proud of. Then I would reach when Kerri came out as transgender and transitioned to Kris. And I would marvel at the last five years and how far Kris has come, pulling together all those fragments from the pieces of their life leading up to this point to become the person I have always known they were.

Kris

Daily Prompt: Recognize

“I’d love to, but…”

I’m an introvert through and through. (I’m also quiet, reserved, shy…. but that’s a story for another day.)

While this might not be true of all introverts, this is a fair representation of what goes through my mind (and sometimes questions I will need answered) when I am issued an invitation:

If it’s a friendly invitation-

  • Do I want to go out?
  • Who is going to be there?
  • Is it going to be just us?
  • Where are we going?
  • Is this a busy time? Will there be a lot of people there?
  • Is it loud?
  • What are we going to be doing?

If it’s an invite to a party-

  • How many people are expected?
  • Who are they?
  • How long will it last?
  • Does it require a certain dress code?
  • Is it a wandering around, making small talk affair or a sit down meal, making small talk affair?
  • If it’s a sit down meal, who will I sit by? (Large sit down gatherings are torture. Anxiety skyrockets at the thought of being trapped sitting by people I don’t know that well and being required to carry endless meaningless conversations. Even worse is being trapped with people who talk over and past and around me.) What food is being served?
  • If it’s a more casual, walking around affair, who will I talk to? Is there a place where I can escape? Is there a good friend who understands my dread at these gatherings and won’t abandon me?
  • Is anyone going to be there that I want to see?

If alcohol is served at either-

  • Will I feel comfortable enough to have a drink around these people?
  • If I choose not to drink, are these the “cool kids” who don’t give non-drinkers the time of day?
  • If I choose not to drink, how long before I’m surrounded by intoxicated people?
  • If I choose not to drink, how long do I have to stay?

If it’s a meeting-

  • How many people will be there? (If it’s more than two or three, I know I won’t be speaking much.)
  • Who are they?
  • Is this an open meeting where public might be attending (in other words a CROWD)?
  • Will we get the information ahead of time?
  • Are we expected to make a decision on the spot?
  • Will press be present?
  • Will someone be video recording the meeting?

With all invitations-

  • Do these people understand that I’m just quiet- not a bitch, stuck up, rude?
  • How long will it take me to recover from this?
  • Will I be able to get to sleep or will it stimulate me to the extent that it keeps my mind racing for hours afterwards?
  • Can I mentally prepare myself so it doesn’t overwhelm me?
  • Do I really need to make the rounds and personally say hello, goodbye and inane small talk with every single person there?
  • Can a friendly smile replace any or all of the niceties listed in the previous question?
  • What am I going to wear?
  • Is my face going to be flaming red the entire time?
  • Is this something I am required to attend?
  • Do I have to go?
  • Do I want to go?
  • Is there a chance this might be cancelled? 🙂

It took me a long time to realize that there was nothing wrong with me. I do not enjoy large social gatherings or going places where there are huge crowds. I did not realize how draining it was for me in these situations and finding out that it was because I’m an introvert was life changing. I no longer had to apologize for who I was. And in a family of extroverts, I was not a freak- just alone (but happily so!)

I love to spend time with select people. I like to spend time with others. And then there are some who I prefer not to see. I am thrilled to be invited, even if it’s something I’m not going to do. Everyone likes to feel included, right? I like to have the right to accept or refuse. There are invitations that I cannot refuse due to commitments I have made. There are also invitations I will not refuse because the person who issued the invite is that special that I will step out of my comfort zone for them. And there are invitations that I might refuse knowing I’m risking being struck from the list, but that’s okay.

The people that really truly know me, understand that I’m at my best one on one and that the frozen person who is silent in larger groups is not the real me at all. I really am a social person- I just prefer my social interactions to occur in very small groups (which might not even be considered groups) for short periods of time.

What about you? Do you love invitations? Or are you an introvert like me and invitations cause some major minor anxiety?

Thanks for stopping by!

-Kat

This post is inspired by Daily Prompt- Invitation

Just Like You

When you meet me and my family, I’m asking you a favor. Keep an open mind. We are your average family…..or as average as anyone can be these days.

I’m married to the father of my three children. We have lived in the same house for the past 20 years. My oldest child is married and has two children and my other two are in college. Growing up my kids were involved in Scouts, band, karate and other various activities. We took annual family vacations and trips to the zoo and museums. I was a Scout leader, PTO and booster mom. Over the years we had fish, birds and a dog as pets.

Two of my kids have freckles. Two are left-handed. All three play musical instruments. Three loved Pokemon growing up. Two have been avid Star Wars fans. One paints. Two are natural comedians. All three are creative although by different degrees- creativity drives one, the other channels his creativity into his life’s passion and the last keeps his in check, allowing it to appear in little bursts. One is an extrovert and two are introverts. Two of my kids look just like me. They all have different color hair and eyes. One has curly hair and the other two have straight hair. Two are boys and one is transgender (see below for definition).

I worried about one child who struggled with reading. Two of them broke bones before they were three years old. One needed stitches at the age of 12. They all had strep throat more than once and pink eye only once (thank goodness!). Two had scarlet fever. They all had chicken pox.

——-Wait- what? (remember that open mind I asked you to keep?)

Until that second that you read that word, we seem like a pretty normal family, right? Nowadays our family has grown to include a daughter-in-law and two small boys. We might be a bit noisier or take up an entire aisle at the grocery store at times. You probably passed us at Target or sat a table away from us when we are at a restaurant. You stood behind us in line for hours waiting to get on the “It’s a Small World” ride in the Magic Kingdom. We might have exchanged pleasantries at school events or shared hellos as we passed each other while walking our dogs.

I worry about my kids when they are struggling, even though they are all technically adults. I love them unconditionally and will always do whatever I can to help them- whether it means giving them a hand or a swift kick in the butt. I want them to have happy, productive lives and be kind, caring people.

We could be anybody. We ARE anybody.

So, the next time you see us and maybe your knee jerk reaction is to look the other way as we pass, I’m asking you to please keep an open mind and remember we are still the same people we were before you heard that one word. We are just like you.

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Transgender– when a person’s gender identity or gender expression differs from their assigned sex or what is considered normal for male or female genders.

This post is in response to The Daily Post Discover Challenge- Open-Minded.

 

 

All You Need is Love…

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cupid’s Arrow.”

 

In honor of Valentine’s Day and the daily prompt of “Cupid’s Arrow” I am dedicating this post to my romantic favorites. I’m not an overly romantic person in my real life, but I cannot pass up a great love story.

A line from the movie Sleepless in Seattle that makes me sigh—

“Well, it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together… and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home… only to no home I’d ever known… I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like… magic.”   -Sam Baldwin, Sleepless in Seattle

Sam is speaking of his deceased wife whose life is cut short, leaving him to raise his young son alone. The soft longing in his voice always gets to me. Oh, to be loved like that!

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in by e. e. cummings is one of my favorite poems about love.

eecummings

I love everything about this poem. It is the perfect description of love to me. It’s the feeling that you carry inside you when love and you are loved. To hear the poem in its entirety, click here.

Friends’ Monica and Chandler’s Proposal

If you aren’t a fan of the tv series, Friends, this might not have the same impact but to me, it was one of the most romantic tv moments ever! Everything that happened in the episode leading up to this moment only made it that much more perfect.

Lizzie and Darcy, need I say anymore?

“It is a truth universally acknowledged. that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Okay, maybe it’s cliché but I did say I was a sucker for romance, right? I fell in love with Pride and Prejudice the first time I read it and I have never stopped, no matter how many times I re-read the book.

In closing, I will leave you with my all-time favorite love song by the Beatles- If I Fell

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love, Kat

My Firstborn, My Hero

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Unsung Heroes.”

Unsung Hero- a person who makes a substantive yet unrecognized contribution; a person whose bravery is unknown or unacknowledged.

When I saw today’s daily prompt earlier today….well that would be yesterday now that it’s after 2:00a.m…. I planned on giving it some thought and getting back to it later. Then my day got in the way. And I forgot.

I’ve spent a lot of time with my daughter-in-law, my grandson and my newest grandson lately but my son, Michael, has been gone. A lot. And I’ve missed him. A lot.

When I woke up a couple hours ago (my insomnia is horrible these days), I was catching up on reading the blogs that I follow when I came across one that was written in response to the daily prompt. This time I had no doubt in my mind.

Michael is my unsung hero. But you don’t know Michael, do you? I realized that I don’t talk about him that much, do I?

Well, he’s married to Jasmine and has 2 children. CJ is five and he wants to grow up to be just like his daddy. I hope he does! Michael didn’t know much of anything about kids when he and Jasmine began dating but he took to fatherhood like a fish to water. He not only took on another man’s responsibility, he became CJ’s daddy in every way he possibly could. All those years ago when I thought he wasn’t listening? Well, he was and he proves it every time he opens his mouth and something I used to say to him comes out.

Baby B is 3 weeks old. The first time I saw him in the hospital special care nursery, he was laying there holding onto Michael’s finger and when Michael spoke, B’s head turned toward his voice. It wasn’t coincidental, as I have witnessed B search out his daddy every time he hears his voice, even in a room with all of us (Ari barking in the background). If Michael didn’t know much about toddlers, he knew even less than about newborns. Because Jasmine had a rough delivery, Michael took on more of the parenting duties than is usually expected of a new father. Because he had to leave again when B was only 3 days old to complete his training, he had to pack a lot of bonding into a short time. And he did.

Michael is such an amazing big brother to Kris and Andrew. It was never more evident than when he found out that Kris was transgender and not even fully understanding the enormity of it in the beginning, he never missed a step. He swooped in and kept a close eye on both of his brothers, gathering them close to him and coining the greeting, “Hey, brother!” which is uttered back and forth between the three of them constantly, along with CJ sometimes chiming in. I wouldn’t be surprised to find him ‘hey brother’-ing Baby B before long.

He has packed a lot into the 6 years since he graduated from high school. He became an EMT within 6 months of graduation. Four years later he got his paramedic certification. And just 9 weeks ago he entered firefighter academy. He graduated last week and he will begin his first day as a firefighter tomorrow- well, actually in a few short hours! This has been his dream for as long as I can remember. He knew what he wanted to do and he worked for it. He worked HARD for it!

All of these things could make him a hero in my eyes and to a certain degree, they do. But it wasn’t these things that came to mind when I thought of him. It was something that happened this evening.

Michael and family were over doing laundry. It was slightly chaotic in the house with CJ racing around causing Ari, who is still figuring out what to do with Baby B, to run around barking. Mr. K and I had just returned from the wake of the father of kids that all my kids had gone to school with. I was quiet, trying not to let my sadness get the best of me. As I walked past Michael, who was folding clothes, he glanced at me and asked, “You okay, Mom?”

I nodded and said, “Yes” in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. It wasn’t.

He set down the towel and hugged me, saying, “I love you, Mom.” It was a solid hug and gosh, it felt really good. I had missed him. And I had needed that hug!

I’m not a touchy feely person. I can be described as prickly at best unless you are my grandson. Those hugs and I love yous don’t come easy to me.

In that moment and the moments that followed, as I watched my son taking care of his wife and his baby, altering CJ’s firefighter helmet that used to be his as a child to reflect his badge number, knowing how hard he had worked to achieve his dream, and realizing that there are some men in the world who, if they had done any of these things, would expect some kind of recognition but not him. Not Michael.

I am proud of him and I’m proud to call him my son.

unsung hero

Twinkle, Sprinkles and Twizzler

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Twinkle.”

 Here are some of the Christmas lights around our house. The other night at dinner, five year old CJ was looking at the Christmas tree squinting and blinking his eyes. He smiled at us and said, “I get sprinkles in my eyes when I look at the tree. Sprinkles, frosting and marshmallows!”

And while we are on the subject of Christmas, here’s the latest escapade of our elf, Twizzler. Much to CJ’s delight, Twizzler has been finding some interesting places to pop up!

elf on the shelf

Thanks for dropping in!

Let it Go

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Click here to listen—Let it Go

When I’ve thought about this summer only one song comes to mind. “Let it Go” from the Disney movie, Frozen. I don’t know why I can’t get past this song. I realize that it was played to death but somehow I keep coming back to it. I couldn’t get the video to show up in the post so I had to settle for a picture and a link to the video.

This song resonates with me as the song of the summer of 2014 for a few reasons. The first is the most obvious. We went on a big family vacation to Disney World. It was eventful in many ways. It was my daughter-in-law and grandson’s first times there. We got to see Kris, who was working there.

My kids are Disney fans. Big Disney fans. Especially Kris. When we went to see Frozen, I fell in love with Anna- the younger sister. Besides my soft spot for little red haired girls, I related to her. She knew what she had to do and she did it. I’m more like Anna than Elsa. Elsa seemed sort of like she was wallowing in self-pity too much for my liking. I know there are so many different ways to look at characters and analyze their motivation. Elsa did overcome great obstacles and was able to throw aside her hang ups. 🙂  I did like that she did “let it go” up there on the mountaintop.

Even though I still hold on to most of my original opinion of Elsa, I’ve come to relate to her more. “Be the good girl you always have to be.” This line has always hit a nerve.There’s nothing wrong with being good but not when it comes at the cost of your sense of self. As I have mentioned in a previous post- I’ve upset the apple cart. I guess that’s the Elsa in me.

And my final reason is pretty simple. My grandson adores this movie and spent most of the summer asking us if we wanted to “play” Frozen with him. One of us had to play Anna while he was Elsa, sleeping in her bed and moping around. 🙂

This post is my response to Daily Prompt- Musical Marker

25 Songs, 25 Days: Day 7- A song that reminds you of the past summer

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