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Showing posts from 2013

Mee Maw Memories

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On December 7th, my beloved Mee Maw Weaver would have turned 100 years old. Even though she did not live to see this monumental birthday, which was her wish, she did live 93 wonderful years, which is not too shabby. 

Christmas was her favorite holiday. She loved decorating her house and buying gifts for our family. Mee Maw loved Christmas so much that she drank her morning coffee out of a Christmas tree mug year-round. To honor my Mee Maw daily, I do the same, and it is one of the reasons that I go "Christmas crazy" in my own home during the season. 

I wrote this piece as a tribute to my Mee Maw after she passed away in 2007. My sister and I read part of it at her memorial service. I am posting it on my blog as a "Happy 100th Birthday!" tribute to one of the most amazing women I will ever know...

Mee Maw memories permeate my childhood:  spending Friday nights with her and Paw Paw while Mom went to football games, learning how to play solitaire at the kitchen table, re…

Icemageddon 2013: Hunker Down

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In February of 2011, my family got iced in for a week by freakish Winter weather in Texas (it happens occasionally), and I wrote about our adventures then.  When we got the word that temperatures would not get above freezing for at least three days and that school was closed on Friday due to an ice storm, I got giddy. Even though we have just returned from Thanksgiving break and have only been back in school four days, who doesn't love an unexpected day off from school?

We knew the bad weather was coming (thank you, Pete Delkus from WFAA Channel 8. (You know you are officially old when you have a news station and weatherman of choice.) When Pete started using terms like "Icemageddon" and phrases like "the Metroplex will be enshrouded in ice," I knew we needed to prepare. Most people raided the grocery stores on Wednesday night, the empty bread and chip shelves a preview of the Zombie Apocalypse, but I hit Hobby Lobby when it was still  72 degrees. I knew these …

The Pit of Mom Guilt

Last week I promised my girls that I would attend the Thanksgiving Feast at their school. As a working mom, this was a big promise. A Mom Promise. It meant that I had to adjust my schedule at school and take the afternoon off, but lunch with my daughters at school is a rare treat and worth the extra effort. I'm their Mom, and Moms make promises.

And Moms mess up. I got the date wrong. I saw "Friday" on the paper that was sent home, so I programmed Friday into my mind. But the Feast was actually on Thursday (Friday was the RSVP deadline), and Thursday wasn't possible for me. I was going to miss the Feast after I had already made a promise.

After some tears and disappointment, I explained to the girls that I would still be there on Friday--bearing Chic-Fil-A as a peace offering. Ever the optimist, I explained that if I'd been able to go to the Feast, then we would have eaten the cafeteria food (which I'm sure is delicious, and I'm sorry I missed it.) But si…

The NaNoWriMo Challenge: Week 1 Progress

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My first week of NaNoWriMo has been a success. I only skipped one day, which was last night. I took a bubble bath and read Allegiant instead, which seemed to quench my writing soul because I made up for it tonight by writing for an hour. And it was fun.

Stats for Week 1: 

I wrote for 274 minutes, which is 4.5 hours and meets my weekly time goal. I have written 6,855 words, which isn't bad considering that I have worked a full-time, exhausting job while being a Mom and a wife and still sleeping. I feel like I've maintained some balance, which is the key to everything. 
Revelations: 

It doesn't matter what I write as long as words come out. This process is about getting the words on the screen--no matter how crappy they are. And there's some BAD STUFF going on here. But at least there's stuff to work with, and it's not just swimming in the uncertain waters of my brain.  December will be NaNoReMo: Re = REVISING This story has a life, and if I let it just tell itself …

NaNoWriMo: Here I Go...

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NaNoWriMo--no, it's not some obnoxious Aggie yell. It stands for National Novel Writing Month, and it's an actual THING with a Facebook page and a hashtag.  In the month of November, writers stop talking about that novel and actually start writing it. A whole novel. In a month. The hardcore NaNoWriMos follow a crazy calendar that will word count them to a 50,000 word novel by the end of November. And I'm going to DO THIS. I'm ALL IN. Seriously.

This. Is. Happening.


Well, sort of. Because I like my family, my job, and my sleep, I don't think I can commit to this count craziness. Not yet. But I am embracing the idea behind NaNoWriMo, which is this:

 And so that's what I intend to do.

In January, I used this blog to make the shaky whisper of a confession that I am finally writing "THE BOOK." It started to take shape over the spring, mostly living inside my head, and this summer it morphed into a novel that actually lives on my computer. With chapters. An…

Malala Girls in a Miley World: One Mom's Prayer

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You need to know this about Jason and me: We consider ourselves the guardians of our daughters' childhood innocence, and as their parents, we take this job seriously. Before you roll your eyes and mentally ship us off to Crazy Town, let me clarify: We aren't THOSE kind of parents that place our kids in a bubble of bliss; our girls don't think the world is all rainbows and roses (even though that's what they like to draw). They know that bad things happen, but the key is that WE are the ones to tell them about the bad things; we try to act as the buffer to soften the blow of reality. Our main tactic is to filter their intake of media. We are strict about what they watch on TV (no news or "adult" shows when they are in the room), the movies that they see (only G and PG), and the songs that they listen to. Now before you think I'm some kind of Parent Cop that polices the lives of my kids, let me just be real; this is all a struggle, and we are FAR from perfe…

"See you in December..."

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I grew up under the Friday Night Lights of Texas High School Football. As the daughter of an athletic trainer, I guess you could say I also grew up under the glare of the gymnasium lights and those that illuminated baseball diamonds and tracks. But since this is Texas, I lived for those fall Friday nights. My Mom crisscrossed the Metroplex taking my sister and me to the countless football, basketball, and baseball games (not to mention the track meets that were my least favorite), so that we could see our Daddy in action because he was rarely home on a Friday night in our childhood memories. His seasons really didn't end--one rolled right on into the other until summer. Thankfully, our Dad valued quality over quantity in terms of time, so he always made up for his absence when we were together. And I know that my sister and I both agree--that even though high school sports took much of our Daddy's time and attention--we wouldn't have had it any other way.

Proof: We both m…

Leaving a Legacy

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Like so many of my friends who live in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, I am deeply saddened by the news of Kidd Kraddick's sudden death. It seems that many of us have used social media as an outlet to express our shock and grief. I posted this on Facebook yesterday. Obviously, I needed more than 140 characters to express my thoughts:

I'm still in shock and searching for words...

So many of my DFW friends' hearts are hurting at the horrible news of Kidd Kraddick's sudden death. Ironically, I listened to the "deathbed confessions" of Kidd and the gang last week. For a fleeting moment I thought, What if one of them dies in the near future? Will these be so funny? Honestly, they made me uncomfortable, but I quickly brushed the feeling away and went on laughing while I drove to teach.

So when I read the news via FB and Twitter last night, I immediately thought it was a tasteless hoax. But that was not Kidd's style. Even though I never met him personally, I felt like …

Behold the Power of Twitter

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This time last summer I went on my first Facebook Fast, which made such an impression on me that I wrote a post about it and am noting its one-year anniversary. Since that week-long detox from my social media drug of choice, I have been hyper-aware of how addicted I am to Facebook and have tried (unsuccessfully) to break the habit. Even though I have other social media accounts, I don't check them as religiously as I do FB. They don't hold the same power over me as that little blue f. Well, not until last week when I discovered the greatness of Twitter.

I hopped on the Twitter train during last year's Summer Olympics. I wanted to keep tabs on the US Women's Gymnastics Team and my other favorite Olympians, so I finally worked up the nerve to create a Twitter account. Even though people tried to explain it to me, the truth was that Twitter intimidated me. It felt like there were so many secret handshakes that I wasn't cool enough to understand. I couldn't compre…

On Being Brave

In January, I shared my secret--that I finally had an idea for a book. (July actually marks the year anniversary that the idea first popped into my head.) Over the past six months, this little idea has morphed into a full-fledged plot with a beginning, middle, and end, full of characters that I have grown to love and loathe, and a sense of place that has taken root in my mind. I know exactly where this is going; I've written many of the key scenes; it's the connecting parts that have me stumped. But I'm still chipping away, trying to become disciplined in the process of writing a little each day. After all, that's how you eat an elephant--one bite at a time. And that's how stories come to life--word after word after word...

 I am not ready to share what this book is about. I am tentatively telling my close friends, "I'm writing a book" almost in a whisper, just to try this "writer" thing on and also for a little accountability. Only a few in…

Letting Go

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As most of you know from my sentimental Facebook posts, we dropped Landry off at Camp Cho-Yeh yesterday. For six days, she will be camper in the piney woods of East Texas; she will make new friends, sing silly songs, get really dirty, all while learning more about Jesus Christ and His crazy-big love for her. Sounds like a fantastic way for a 10-year-old to spend a week of Summer.

We were well-prepared for the camp drop-off procedures not just because Barbie works there but because Cho-Yeh has been superb in their communication and preparation with parents. As we dropped off her trunk, and she got signed in (complete with temperature and lice check!), I tried not to think about what was coming--the saying good-bye part. We felt a bit like celebrities when people realized who we were, "You're the Bailey Family! You're Barbie's Bailey Family! We feel like we know you!" It made me so grateful to God. Landry wouldn't be at Camp Cho-Yeh if it weren't for Barbi…

Never Say Never

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I know that I'm not the tattoo type of girl. In fact, I started taking pleasure in the "WHAT??!!!" of my friends when I casually mentioned that I was thinking of getting one. Nothing like causing a little shock and awe. But instead of deterring me, their reactions made me want one even more. The major lesson I've learned in my 30s: Be the true person that I am rather than the one people expect me to be. And people don't expect me, the sweet little librarian, to get tatted up. I totally get that. And the funny thing is that I never expected it either.

My deep disdain for tattoos started with my clean-cut-baseball-player-of-a-high-school boyfriend. For the sake of anonymity, I will call him Bif-with-one-f. (Those who know my history will understand the significance of this name and will probably chuckle.) When Bif turned 18, he marched straight down to Deep Ellum and got Casper the Friendly Ghost tattooed on his left bicep. Yes. Casper. The. Freakin'. Friendly…