Thought I would do a brief post, while the little angel sleeps. She’s such a good baby, honestly!
I was so nervous and excited about today that I started waking up around 1:30 in the morning, subsequently waking every hour on the hour, til around 5 am. By then it was time to wake and prepare for her arrival, so I guarantee my bedtime will be early this evening, lol.
You’d think that it would be second nature to care for an infant, being that I birthed and raised three, myself. Somehow, it feels different with Maisie. I think it’s the nervousness of caring for one that belongs to another. I love her so much, but she’s not my baby… she’s my daughters child. I want so much for her not to worry about the baby while they are apart, during work hours.
I will say that I was happy to get smiles from her this morning, when we first got her out of the car. I was worried that she would be frightened, possibly, what with all the changes happening. Nope! It helps that she simply adores her papa, and he came downstairs to get her with me.
You know, I don’t think we’ve gotten more than a few grumpy whines, and that was just before I gave her a bottle so I know she was just hungry.
……………………………………………………………………………………………….
Ok, so maybe it won’t be that easy to write while she naps. I barely got started and then had to take a break to feed and change her, as her morning naps are merely 30 minute breathers.
All in all, it was a great success, today! By the time I handed her back to mamma, she’d been thoroughly loved, fed, tickled, and spoiled. What else could I do? This Meemaw has no other choice, does she? To hear the sound of a baby’s giggles, coo’s, and the strange dialect of baby babble, is to have truly lived….
Hands down, if I were to pick one movie that I could erase from my memory, only to watch all over again for the first time, it would be The Sound of Music, with Julie Andrews!
I’ve nearly memorized all the songs from the movie, so it would be incredible to begin again, and enjoy the excitement once more.
The romance, the adventure, and all the music had me entranced. I wanted to be Maria so badly, lol.
Aside from all the amazing acting, musical voices, and talent displayed during the film, the cinematography was outstanding.
All in all, it would be worth the forgetting, just for the chance to experience the first discovery of it, one more time.
It’s too bad that I can’t make you forget about all the cookies you’ve had, thus far. Then you could enjoy that first one, all over again.
Days and nights all blended together for the young barmaid, as she sought to carry on with her regular duties, while simultaneously caring for a baby. It wasn’t that Brugo was any more difficult that most his age, but Maiyah had never been a mother, so it was all quite a new experience.
For the most part, Brugo chose to sleep the day away, while she tended to her duties. When Maiyah returned to her room at the end of her shift, he would wake for his dinner. From that point, the baby orc spent the entire night climbing about the room, sitting upon her chest, and babbling incessantly. She wasn’t sure how long she could continue with the way things were going.
Ollie had begun to notice the look of exhaustion on Maiyah’s face. Going about her chores, she made every effort to avoid the orc, feeling his eyes on her back, as she went. It wouldn’t be long before he would demand to know why she was so tired, lately. In all the time she’d known Ollie, she’d never lied to the orc… not once!
Maiyah was certain that even if she tried to lie, the orc would know, simply by looking into her eyes. Somehow, it seemed that Ollie had always been able to read her thoughts. She learned from early on that it was simply easier to just tell the truth, rather than seeking to hide what would eventually be found out by the nosy orc.
As far as hiding a baby orc in her room, well, she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be long before the truth would be discovered. She wanted to talk to the orc, but he was always in such a foul mood. He was already being rather unkind toward her, because she was falling behind in her work. That actually made her angry, because if he knew why she was going to all the trouble of hiding things, he would be ashamed of himself.
Finally, after nearly two weeks of hiding, sneaking, and the constant nocturnal activities of Brugo, Maiyah broke under all the pressure, and lack of sleep. It happened just as she was washing the morning dishes, and Ollie stomped into the kitchen and threw a pile of dirty washrags at her back.
“You forgot the wash from behind the bar… again!”
Turning to face the angry orc, Maiyah simply lost her temper, throwing an entire cup of sudsy water in Ollie’s face! The orc was so shocked at her outburst, and the look in her eyes that he took several steps backward.
Pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, Maiyah shouted, “You know, for someone who is supposed to be so smart and observant about everyone around them, you are rather blind to the truth that lay before your very eyes!”
Feeling ashamed of himself, as well as being quite confused by Maiyah’s reaction, the orc tried to apologize. It was too late, however, because all the lack of sleep had claimed what was left of her self-control.
“For the last two weeks,” she shouted, “I’ve been working myself sick with my normal duties, while at the same time, caring for a baby orc named Brugo, that is apparently your son!” In frustration and hurt, Maiyah reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out the letter that had been pinned to the baby’s shirt, when she’d first found him.
The look on Ollie’s face stole what was left of her anger, as Maiyah stood holding the letter between them. Confusion had turned to painful and shocking recognition, for the orc. He knew who Brugo was before she’d ever revealed the letter. Tears began to fill his eyes, as the orc reached out and accepted the note. He already knew who had written the words upon the parchment he now held in his hand.
Maiyah regretted her angry words, and stepped forward to place her hand on Ollie’s arm. The orc suddenly reached out and embraced Maiyah in such an emotional outburst that at first, she was frightened. But then, she realized that the orc was in need of comfort, more than she’d ever seen before that day. For several moments, the orc just held onto her, sobbing uncontrollably.
Trying to pull himself together, Ollie released his hold of Maiyah, and began asking questions about the baby. “Where is he now? Can we go to him? What if he doesn’t recognize me?”
Gently nudging Maiyah toward the stairs leading to their rooms, Ollie accompanied her to where Brugo lay sleeping, gently buried beneath a soft blanket. Standing over the bed where the baby slept, Brugo just stood in silence, tenderly observing his son.
“The last I saw of Brugo, was when he was born.” whispered Ollie. “His mother belonged to another clan. Our union was to bridge the gap between the two warring factions. The marriage had been arranged, and neither she nor I were given a choice in the matter. While I don’t know his of mothers motives, I married for love. She and I had been friends since childhood, only parting when war broke out between our clans.”
“Why did you leave?”
“The pact failed! The warring worsened, and when Brugo was born, I was simply thrown out of the clan, and sent back to my own people.”
Maiyah could see the immense pain that the memories were causing him. “Was that why you took to the sea, for a time?”
“I wanted to leave it all behind me… the memories, the pain of loss, and the realization that I would never again see the woman I loved, nor the son she bore me. I suppose that’s the only reason I took you in, so long ago, Maiyah. I wasn’t able to escape the pain of my past, until you. You softened the edges of my hurt, and filled a place that was so very empty.”
Standing beside Ollie, as they watched the sleeping Brugo, the young barmaid chose to ask no more questions, for the time. She wanted to give the orc some time to adjust to the sudden reappearance of his son, and also read the letter from the baby’s mother.
The letter could wait a bit longer, as the orc would need to put all his focus on the baby that was stirring beneath the blanket before them. Brugo was about to meet his father… once more.
Will the baby be frightened?
Will the letter explain where Brugo’s mother had gone?
Does she still love Ollie? Is that why she sent Brugo to him?
Unless it’s expected that I physically create my own gymnasium, the easier and less expensive method of building a regular fitness routine, is to simply write it down.
While I understand the idea behind building a routine, my brain doesn’t work like that. I am a list maker, a note taker, and in truth, an exercise faker! I’ll write out a plan, or routine, if you will, but whatever the exercise ends up being… if it ain’t fun, I ain’t doing it!
Growing up in the country left it’s mark on this girl. Most of the exercise I took part in, had something to do with camping, hunting, fishing, or sitting on the back of a horse. Like I said, as far as a work out goes, it had to be fun!
I am nearly 58 years old, and my attitude from childhood hasn’t changed. I tried the whole gym routine, wasted countless dollars on memberships that I never fully committed to using. It was smelly, sweaty, and filled with strangers… no thanks.
Nowadays, my feet are really the only exercise equipment I utilize. I love to walk, but even if I can’t leave the apartment, I’m still able to walk in place, stretch and do leg lifts. Aside from that, I don’t have any plan that I’ve built, really. And, f.y.i., I don’t plan on changing the way things are, at this time.
Besides, I start watching my grandbaby full -time on Monday. She’s going to be the biggest fitness routine I’ve had since my daughters were babies. Sheesh, just thinking about it has made me tired.
It’s been over 30 years since I raised my babies, and at least 5 since I watched over a baby full-time.
While I’d like to say that I’ve got this, no problem, there is still some butterflies in my stomach.
I’m no spring chicken, as they say. Will this body hold up?
My relationship with my daughter is a fragile one, do to my own shortcomings as a mother. It’s almost as if my grandbaby is bridging a gap between the two of us, providing an area of safe ground for rebuilding bonds, once more.
I’ve always wanted and prayed for the opportunity to be there for my daughters, and be the MeeMaw that my grandchildren will adore. Now is one of my chances!
Oh lord, I pray that you give me that which I need, for the sake of those I love.
I don’t even know why I’m writing all this stuff down, really. I guess it helps to put it down on paper, or a computer screen, in this case.
No need for answers, or words of self-affirmation.
It simply helps to write out my thoughts. Then I can observe where they take me, or how they keep me grounded, if that makes any sense.
Obviously, I can remember how to care for a baby. That’s not the issue, I don’t think. Most probably, it’s the fact that she’s not mine, first of all. Caring for something so precious that belongs to another is a wonderful, yet, terrifying venture. I don’t think I ever really doubted myself as a mother. It just felt natural, some how.
With my granddaughter, I feel inadequate, somehow. I’m not mamma! I can’t make all the monsters go away, and make the world feel safe like she can. I smell different than mom, sound different, and behave in a different manner. This will all be a huge adjustment for her, and my desire is to make it as gentle as possible.
Life can take one in so many differing directions, offering a multitude of opportunities and experiences. But something about a baby on scene, and the rest of the world seems to fade to grey… for me, at least.
Babies are such a vivid example of Gods design for humans. They begin life so small, and fragile. Each day, we find their eyes full of wonder at the world around them, as they grow and develop. It’s such an awesome thing to observe a baby learning their first words, taking their first steps, and becoming more independent, and self-reliant.
I feel so honored to get the opportunity to be a part of Maisie’s world. And, you’ll get to read about all of it. Most likely, my Thursdays will be thoughts of all that we’ve been up to, and how we’re both getting along. Maybe that’s boring for you, but honestly, it’s not really about you, nor is it about me any longer.
I’m kind of sick of talking about myself all the time. I think she’s much more interesting, by far.
With all that being said, I am confident that this will be one adventure worth documenting.
Let the fun begin, right?! Well, not til Monday, that is. Until then, I’m gonna play hard like I did when I was a kid. Remember when you knew that school was starting up soon? You played even harder, stayed up later, and slept til it was lunchtime, knowing that those easy days of summer were fast disappearing. I’m gonna play like that, only I do my playing on the computer. Don’t judge! Like I said earlier, I’m no spring chicken anymore.
My adventures are all virtual. Why? Because my body hurts less, afterwards. You do the math…
First we’re asked to give up the goods on who we thought were underrated people, and now we must seek out an overrated classic book. What gives? Maybe WordPress has pilfered my idea from Monday Messages. It was my idea first, just so you know.
For the sake of WordPress’s reputation, and to maintain my own literary standings, instead of answering the prompt, I’m going to explain it.
Exactly what do they want to know, here? How many really understand what is considered to be overrated about a piece of literature?
Help us out, Mr. McGoogle, would ya…
Commonly cited “overrated” classic books often feature slow pacing, archaic language, or excessive repetition that frustrates modern readers, according to discussions on Reddit and Goodreads. Top examples include The Catcher in the Rye (whiny protagonist), Moby Dick (too much whaling data), and The Great Gatsby (overhyped narrative). [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
Frequently Cited Overrated Classics
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: Often criticized for having an annoying, whiny, and unrelatable protagonist.
Moby Dick by Herman Melville: Criticized for being a “slog” with too many technical, tedious chapters on whale biology and whaling history.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: Frequently deemed overhyped, with readers finding the characters unsympathetic and the story unengaging.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë: Described as overly miserable, with a complex, unenjoyable structure.
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne: Often criticized for slow pacing and an agonizingly detailed, boring start.
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad: Cited for being difficult to follow and harboring dated, problematic themes.
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes: While acknowledged for its historical influence, many find it repetitive and far too long.
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway: Criticized for a “boring” plot that feels minimal to some readers. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8]
Common Reasons for Overrating
Stylistic Overload: Novels like Ulysses by James Joyce are criticized for “willful obscurity” and being “a dead end in fiction”.
Outdated Content: Books like Huckleberry Finn are sometimes viewed as outdated rather than timeless.
School Curriculum Fatigue: Many readers forced to read classics like Lord of the Flies or Romeo and Juliet in school often view them negatively.
Repetitive Satire:Don Quixote is often considered tedious because the humor is repetitive.
Misleading Marketing:The Da Vinci Code is listed because it was marketed as a high-stakes masterpiece, while many saw it as a sensationalized, inaccurate thriller. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]
Note: The perception of a book as “overrated” is subjective and often debated among readers, with many of these titles remaining enduring staples of literature for good reason. [1]
While I can’t say that there are any particular books I’ve found to be overrated, per say, though there were a few I wish I hadn’t read. But it wasn’t for the reason of being overrated. I just didn’t enjoy the content of the story.
Forming an opinion about a books rating isn’t something I really practice. I don’t read reviews of a book before choosing to read it. I simply read the description on the back of the cover to decide whether I want to dive in, or not. I have read books that friends have suggested for one reason, or another. But not to rate the story. There was something in the content that I sought, based on what that friend may have shared about the story.
Being that I’m a writer, perhaps it gives me more grace and understanding for those that came before. I appreciate all the hard work that went into creating and publishing those books. While I may not enjoy certain writing styles, I can’t judge the content of a story based on that. How would I like it if someone judged my writing, purely based on whether they like the way I told the story. If one doesn’t like it, another will. Everyone is different, and so there will always be opinions from one end of a topic, to the other.
Though I couldn’t give an answer to the prompt this morning, I did learn more about what makes a book good or bad, underrated or overrated, and whether or not I want to read a book til the end.
That was a bit of a read, wasn’t it? Now I’m hungry.
Well, I must admit that Eustace has done an outstanding job on the installing of our ship’s new baby cabin.
The only problem is, where to put the baby. Eustace put so many stuffed camels in the room, we’ll be lucky to get her into the crib. The silly camel is so proud of how the room turned out, I don’t have the heart to tell him we need to tone it down on the plushie bonanza!
Most would consider answering the prompt with the names of men and women, from our history. But didn’t those grown up folks start out as little people?
When we think of people from history, we don’t often envision them as the children they were, before they became important, famous, or even underrated. Everybody starts out little, regardless of the outcome.
There is so much that goes into being strong, successful, and seen by the world around us, it’s no wonder that so many go underrated. Think of all the underrated ones that work to build up someone else’s notoriety. You don’t think that politicians, scientists, medical professionals, and inventors all reached their popularity by mere self-propulsion, do you?
Those incredible people were all in the sandbox, at one time, rubbing shoulders with all the underrated children. Those little, little people, also grew up. And, it was their hard work, selfless giving, and support that made it possible for the few, the proud, and the glorious ones.
I don’t wish to minimize the giftedness of those that have done amazing things in this world, but I wonder how many of them would be where they are today, were it not for those that helped get them there.
Early morning dental appointment, then back home for writing. That was the plan, anyway. What could go wrong, right?!
What is it about the dentist that sends so many of us round the bend, so to speak?
I’ve birthed three children, endured numerous injuries, surgeries, and painful procedures, over the years. One would think that I’d become a powerful weapon of war, with my pain tolerance being put to the test, on so many occasions.
Well, apparently not!
I’ve had this appointment for weeks, and there isn’t any easy way around a cavity. It had to be filled. While I wasn’t looking forward to the procedure, I certainly wasn’t that stressed about it, at least that was what I originally thought. I guess I was wrong.
I get up early, enjoy a cup of my peppermint tea, and throw myself together, which only takes like five minutes. I actually headed off to the dentist early, before I could change my mind, lol. Arriving safely, I sat quietly waiting for my name to be called.
Once I’d been brought to the dentist chair, I settled in and waited. I’ll admit that my stress was rising, with all the sounds and smells that accompany a medical procedure. After nearly fifteen minutes of brooding in my chair, they arrived to give me the shot that would numb my face for the next six hours.
Needless to say, the needle part hurt. While it was painful, I didn’t think it was the end of the world, or anything. As tough as those few moments were, I endured. The dentist says, “Ok, that parts all over”, and they immediately put my chair in the upright position. That was a horrible idea, and I immediately knew I was going to pass out! I now remember saying I didn’t feel good, and could they put the chair back down, but that’s the last thing I can recall.
Suddenly, I was facing two strangers in mask that were shaking me, and asking if I could breath. I had no idea where I was for nearly two minutes, while a medical team had been hooking me up to blood pressure machines, and oxygen. They said I had some sort of seizure, or something.
Never fear, though, as I was able to recover enough to get the filling done on that tooth. I’m not going to go back and do that again, are you kidding me?!
My guess is that I was most likely holding my breath, out of stress. From there, I must have had a full on anxiety attack that shut everything down, briefly. My panic attacks normally don’t come on that fast, and without any warning. I didn’t even have time to employ any form of calming exercise. It didn’t help that they sat my chair upright, much faster than they probably should have done.
So, I’d like to say long story short, here, but that obviously wasn’t a short story, at all. And, while I’m back home with a fully filled tooth, I still don’t feel right. It’s noon and my mouth is still partially numb. I didn’t get much of any writing done, aside from telling my tragic tale of toothy woe. To any who stayed long enough to read through, til the end, I thank you.
I would be ever so grateful for virtual hugs, cookies, and comments like “that’s awful”, “you poor thing”, and some sprinklings of “how brave you were, Wiwohka”.
While you do that, I will go make some oatmeal. I think I can eat it without biting my own tongue, or worse, my lip.
There’s something interesting about that old adage. The three words, themselves, offer the full answer to the prompt, without needing much more information, don’t you think.
One can take a wordy explanation about how to enjoy much more of your life without amassing a garage full of material things… and simply say, less is more.
Don’t get me wrong, here. I, too, once had a garage full of toys, gadgets, and more. It wasn’t like those things just sat, collecting dust. We used them, therefore, we assumed they were necessary wants, not just want wants. It’s easy to justify having more than we actually need. And, it’s not always a bad thing. The reality sets in when the things we put our hopes in, fall away from our grasp.
There was a time when we had plenty, and then suddenly, it was gone… all of it!
How you survive and overcome great loss is what makes you who you are. It will define your character, for the better… or possibly not, depending on how much you valued all that was lost.
What I discovered during our time living in that old R.V., and into our homeless bit, was the art of finding solutions, the act of letting go, and the gift of gratitude!
We live quite modestly, now, compared to before. To some, it may seem impoverished, but quite probably it’s more comfortable than many others will ever experience. We don’t have much, but what we do have is cared for, and never taken for granted. And if we lose it, we replace it, or simply make do without it.
While I could easily come up with a list of things I could use, as anyone might do, I won’t. Why? Because living with minimal things has now become an actual way of life, at least in my mind. I can’t speak for my husband, of course.
The way I see it, having less means there’s more space in my head, my house, and my heart. There’s a sense of freedom in not being tethered to a large amount of materials that are all crying out to be used, repaired, and/or stored somewhere.
When we have to move, we move fast and light. When we exist in small and limited spaces, it’s comfortable and not overcrowded.
And, more importantly, my heart now seeks other treasures and beautiful things. You just might not see what I see. Our home may be empty of many material things, but it’s never truly empty. Instead, it’s full of love, laughter, light, and shared dreams. Dreams that are still yet to come true.
Plus, since there’s so much room in my kitchen, I’ve plenty of space for baking all these cookies…
Journey With Me! 