Tag Archives: help

‘the keeper’

Sometimes when we read someone else’s words they hit you deep down in your guts directly to your soul, these words did exactly that.  They paused me.  They made me remember my job, “the keeper

I had bracelets made for both my kids, I wear my sons, one day I’ll give it to him but for know I am the keeper of the message “ain’t no mountain high, no valley low” the song I played them so much during a very hard time in our lives, the divorce.  We are years passed that now, however, old wounds die hard and long sometimes so it is just a reminder that through it all, good and bad, they could always count on their keeper

It certainly is the little things that we know to keep this lil sailboat  sailing like a Viking battleship ​

One of our silly videos to fully embraced our motto ​

​http://us.vivavideo.tv/v/zX6gd2sq/1/


 

“I am the keeper.


I am the keeper of schedules. Of practices, games, and lessons. Of projects, parties, and dinners. Of appointments and homework assignments. 


I am the keeper of information. Who needs food 5 minutes before a meltdown occurs and who needs space when he gets angry. Whether there are clean clothes, whether bills are paid, and whether we are out of milk. 


I am the keeper of solutions. Of bandaids and sewing kits and snacks in my purse. But also of emotional balms and metaphorical security blankets. 


I am the keeper of preferences. Of likes and dislikes. Of nightly rituals and food aversions. 


I am the keeper of reminders. To be kind, to pick up their trash, to do their dishes, to do their homework, to hold open doors and write thank you notes.


I am the keeper of rituals and memories. Of pumpkin patches and Easter egg hunts. I am the taker of pictures, the collector of special ornaments, and the writer of letters. 


I am the keeper of emotional security. The repository of comfort, the navigator of bad moods, the holder of secrets and the soother of fears. 


I am the keeper of the peace. The mediator of fights, the arbiter of disputes, the facilitator of language, the handler of differing personalities.


I am the keeper of worry. Theirs and my own. 


I am the keeper of the good and the bad, the big and the small, the beautiful and the hard. 


Most of the time, the weight of these things I keep resembles the upper elements on the periodic table – lighter than air, buoying me with a sense of purpose.


But sometimes the weight of the things I keep pulls me down below the surface until I am kicking and struggling to break the surface and gasp for breath.


Because these things I keep are constantly flickering in the back of my brain, waiting to be forgotten. They scatter my thoughts and keep me awake long past my bedtime.


Because all these things I keep are invisible, intangible. They go unnoticed and unacknowledged until they are missed. They are not graded or peer reviewed or ruled on by a court. And sometimes they are taken for granted. 


My husband and my boys are kind and generous and they love me hard. And this is by far the greatest job I have ever had. But sometimes being the Keeper is exhausting. Because you feel like you’re doing it alone. 


So to all of you who are keepers, I see you. 


I know the weight of the things you keep. 


I know the invisible work you do, which doesn’t come with a pay check or sick leave, is what makes the world go round. 


I see you.


And I salute you.”


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Credit: Lucky Orange Pants

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Nick knack paddy whack give a dog a bone


In our home supper time and the time before it while it’s being prepared, has always been a family gathering filled with music, dancing, and an overall happy and  fun time to wind down from the rat race of our days.

Just last week, as I began this process I happen to be alone when Thing#2 came home.  “Hey, take the dog out real quick I’m almost done here, then we can eat when the boys get home”   I hear a “Sure Momma..”

As I went back to the music and the cooking, suddenly she’s back in the kitchen with both her and the dog looking all wide eyed while she’s kinda shouting, rambling and I wasn’t exactly understanding what she is trying to tell me.

He just crunched it!  Im so Not kidding MOM!!!!!  It’s not dead!!  Ewwwww!!!!  Wheres TROY?????  MOOOMMMM ITS NOT DEAD YET AND HE CRUNCHED IT!!  I was just standing there and turn around and he CRUNCHED it like Daniel’s DOG!! He’s like CUJO!!  MOM ARE YOU LISTENING???

Why yes, yes I am but I have no idea what you are trying to tell me darlin.  Now, it’s perfectly clear to me, the dog has just done something……attacked and “crucnched” something?.  What I am not getting is exactly what.  What was it?  Not my neighbors dog again …(a God awful story..).  Awe, shit!!

It’s RIGHT THERE!!!  It’s flipping around! Where’s Thing#1?? WHERE IS TROY????  It’s a baby MOM!!

A baby what??   She is forcibly pointing almost thru the back door window as if i could see “it.”  Praying my dog hadn’t just contracted rabies or a cotton mouth bite, I look at him and her making sure no ones hurt.  Finally she says not quite calmed down, still a scared voice but she’s making sense now.

 It’s a baby opossum!!  It got near me and he killed it!!!!  Go kill it, it’s not dead yet!!  WHERES TROY??????  He’s GOTTA get it!!
I am SO not taking him back outside!!!!  Mom it’s cute and he killed it, damn dog!!

She’s clearly upset, I get it, last thing she thought would happen. I look at my dog and he is just feeding off her anxiety here and wanting back outside.  Oh hell no dog, that ain’ta happening!!

But wait, a second…. cute??   The dog is Cujo and the opossum is cute? ???   Next she will want a pet opossum… Uh, No.   What I am picturing in my mind is not cute in any way, shape or form
I see this:

NOT this:


This is cute:

 This is NOT ::

    Hell NO Opossum

Where does Pinterest even get a photo like that? In the back woods, three miles  down in a holler??

By the time Troy and Thing #1 return home, she had calmed down and was just looking thru the window.  Towards the door steps Troy and Thing#1….KABOOM!  Here we go again!  I can’t help but giggle about it, she tickled me hearing the story again:  the dog renamed Cuju, how the dog recused her from imminent danger from a small, young opossum who was described as cute.

Never a dull moment….

Good Boy Cujo, good boy!