As an aunt, I'm always interested to see what new baby products are out on the market, just in case I need to put together a nice little basket of goodies for a gift-giving occasion; and when I heard about the new tinted glass bottles from Evenflo Feeding, I was really excited. These baby bottles come in teal and lavender and have a unique, twisted glass shape that makes them easier to grip. Because they're glass, they have the added benefit of being BPA free; and the Proflow™ Integrated Venting Nipples are designed to vent rapidly and redirect air bubbles into the bottle so that gas, colic, and bubbly tummies can be avoided.
The bottles are designed to be leak-free, easily sanitized, easily recycled, and long-lasting; and the silicone nipples are one-piece, which means easily cleaning and easy assembly. Available at Babies 'R Us in 4 fluid ounce 3-pack ($11.99) and 8 fluid ounce 3-pack ($11.99)
For more information, visit www.babiesrus.com
Surprise, surprise, once again I come shuffling back after a long absence to this space, my head slung low in shame that I have been so neglectful. What can I say, except that I am an unfit keeper of the Bloggosphere, an unworthy member of the community that others so eagerly contribute to...Or am I?
Actually, I do blog...quite regularly, in fact. But it's not for me––it's for work, to blog about a million things that I feel completely unqualified to write about. I fluff and fan and fill the page with words that will, ideally, generate clicks and clients, churning my brain into smithereens as I try my best to compose a post that will sound clear, professional-yet-approachable, and knowledgeable. I'm a posting poser, and sometimes I worry that I will run out of things to say, run dry of ways to re-spin the same load, find myself facing the blank page with no way out.
Little wonder, then, that when it comes to my own blog, the page so often goes unopened in the first place, so that its stark whiteness is not even an issue. I don't see it, so it doesn't see me.
Perhaps if I didn't take this space so seriously, I would't feel such a need to say only things that I feel need to be said. I would be better able to toss off the casual blurb without worry, but I'm not wired that way. I want the people who read what I write to feel like they got something from reading it. Like they can relate. I don't want to fill the space just to fill the space, so until I have something to say that I feel is worth putting out there for others to read, I won't. And I'll have to learn how to feel a little less guilty about the fact that somewhere out there, the pages of the Bloggosphere are being written; but mine hang back, untouched and white. Waiting, yes, but not impatiently.
Be patient, my dear readers, and I'll be back again soon...
I have to admit, I'm always thrown off by holidays, especially the ones that are "government holidays," but not mandatory holidays. The ones that are my black hole. The ones that are still workdays for me, but many of the people I work with (or try to...) have decided to take off. The days the Inbox feels unloved and neglected, while my Sent pile seems to grow and grow, doing nothing but feeling my feeling of rejection. I know, I know, the therapists are foaming at the mouth to lend their analysis.
I think the reason behind all this is multifaceted, one that sensitive creatives can understand quite easily––as can the self-doubting, self-employed perfectionists. We never feel done, never feel good enough, never feel like we're quite living up to everyone's expectations. But where do we get this idea? And why do we allow it to thrive so much that it strangles and blinds us from our ability to relax and enjoy things the way we should? I hope that's something I can change sooner rather than later. I have so very many things to be grateful for, so many things to cherish and enjoy. Yet I allow myself to give time and space to fear, to let it cloud my vision and stand in the way of...me. The me that I once was, the spontaneous, fun, adventurous me. The me that I want to restore and rediscover. The me that I want others to see.
This is a new year, and––as I have seen so often in the past few years, so many many unexpected things can happen in a year to change your life. There's magic waiting to happen––my wish is that I (and you, dear readers) will be open to seeing it.
Funny thing happened this morning while I was getting ready for the day, dashing between shower and hairdryer and all that good stuff that makes us presentable (presumably) to the general public...I had a flash of insight, an epiphany of sorts. Odd how that happens in the bathroom, isn't it? Perhaps it's because that seems so often to be the place that we allow our thoughts to wander, to be unguided be all the minutae that will, no doubt, assault us later on in the day.
Anyway...as I combed my hair and rubbed in my moisturizer, I thought back over the non-events of my Tuesday (yesterday) and how frustrating it seemed to be. Not that anything really happened...quite the contrary, actually. Which was precisely why it had been so frustrating. Granted, it was something I had brought on myself, as I'd worked so furiously to get ahead enough to actually have a little breathing room, a little time to relax or take an afternoon off...a little time to enjoy the fact that I had a clear list of finished assignments. Oddly enough, I was too worried about the very fact that I had a clear list of finished assignments without having any more lined up to actually enjoy my time to breathe.
Yes, I breathed. But I didn't breathe a sigh of relief or contentment. I hyperventilated, stressed over my momentary lack of assignments.
That's me. A worrier who worries when I'm not worried, because clearly, if I'm not worried, I must be overlooking some shoe that's about to drop.
What's up with that? It's a tendency I'd like to change this year––not a resolution, but a goal. A part of my character that I know needs to be reshaped by the realization that things are really okay, and that in those times of quiet, it's okay to relax and enjoy the gift I'v been given by having that time to just be.
Amazingly enough, it's been nearly three years since I started blogging. Admittedly, it's not that I've been posting regularly in those three years, but still.
Where. Did. It. Go?
But not just those three years.
Where did it all go?
The other day, I was having a conversation with my mama (Yes, I still call her that. I live in the South, people, get over it) during which I came to the astounding realization that it's been almost FIFTEEN (gasp!) years since I graduated from high school. Okay, so I still have a year yet, but you get my point.
How did that happen?!?
Granted, it's held quite a few ups and downs and twists and turns...enough to make even the cast-ironest of cast iron stomaches turn queasy and toss cookies like the Nabisco factory in a machinery malfunction, so it could seem like a relatively short amount of time in certain respects. But in others, it seems like such a long time.
When did we all get so old?
Did we happen to get any wiser?
I'd like to think so.
I'd like to think that in the past fifteen––or even the past three––years, I've matured and gained a deeper understanding if what really matters.
Because if I haven't––if we haven't––then any stretch of time, long or short, is lost.
Where has it gone? But, more importantly, what have you learned?
Okay. Here it is––finally, after months of putting it off, shifting it from one burner to the next, re-jiggering the To-Do List and eyeing my Inbox with guilt as I know that it still holds a reminder e-mail that I need to blog...A BLOG! Ta-da!
Strange as it may sound, I had a second of insight today that left me with the realization that––with as much pressure as I put on myself to write something absolutely, mind-blowingly spectacular for my blogposts––I let it become HUGE in my mind, the equivalent of writing assignments in school that left me physically unable to hold a pencil as I struggled to write the first words. As I got into those assignments, however, I always found that I had over-exaggerated them; and that they were, in fact, very much simpler than I had initially thought. And much less time-consuming. So now, instead of the school reports, I have THE BLOG, which I want to do, but which I have so over-stressed to the point that I sometimes dread it. Hence the loooooooong periods of time between posts. Well, that, and the legitimate writing deadlines that sideline any efforts to make a coherent post come out of my over-taxed little gray cells.
But I digress. Today's post (woot woot!) is one that reminds me (and all many millions of my readers, ha!) of the importance of words––words that we speak over ourselves and words that we speak over each other. Over the past few years especially, I've seen the power that words hold, even ones that seem, at their speaking, not to be that life-changing. But they are. They reverberate. Not always in the physical, but in the spiritual, in the mental, in the emotional. They cause death and create life. They encourage or destroy. It was in this spirit that Nelson Searcy wrote Tongue Pierced: How the Words You Speak Transform the Life You Live (released Jan. 1 by David C Cook). It's a guide for growth in that knowledge, of becoming aware of what you're saying, whether it's spoken in love or in anger. Explore its chapters and explore your head, your heart, and your tongue––and learn to speak life.
It's that time of year when everyone starts to break out the Christmas classics and find new ones to add to their collection. Heartwarming stories of faith and family, miracle and mystery become sources of comfort and joy, and we tuck in under blankets with cups of cocoa and coffee to watch it all unfold...
After watching Lost Christmas, I have no count that this striking story of tragedy, redemption, miracles, and magic will become a family favorite. Lost Christmas centers around the simple action of one little boy, one Christmas Eve, that sets a chain of events in motion that both unravel and intertwine the lives of people around him in ways that none of them realize until they are brought together the very next Christmas, one year later, by a mysterious man who––in the end––becomes the source of second chances.
Released November 11, Lost Christmas (Inception Media Group) is a story not to be missed. Stars
Eddie Izzard of Valkyrie, Oceans Thirteen, and FX’s The Riches. For more information, visit www.inceptionmediagroup.com
