My Facebook feed is overrun with snow-related posts.  As are the blogs I frequent.

I’m not jealous; I’m not much of a snow bunny myself.  Though one snow fall a year is a novelty I enjoy.

Here in the Old Pueblo we’re not so much dealing with snowflakes.

In fact–don’t hate me–the projected high temp Wednesday is, um, well, it’s 75.  Sorry.  Don’t shoot the messenger.

My little man and I have a date at the park; the swings are calling his name.

I hope he feels up to it.

He spent much of his day today like this.

For the most part, that tuckered out look melts my heart.

But–selfishly–sick days aren’t all bad.

Because those are the days when–even at three years old–nothing makes him as happy as Mommy’s lap.

Will you rock me? He asks.  And every time I drop whatever it is I’m doing.

And we go to his room–to the rocker that I insisted was as imperative to his room as a crib.

We rock.

He curls into a question mark under my chin–tight against my chest–and he lets me stroke his hair.

We talk about his choice of the objects in his room {his ceiling fan and closet are among his most favorite}.

We read about old ladies who swallow flies.  And wockets in pockets.  And Terrible Plops.

For as long as he allows it, we rock.

I breathe deep, and do my best to plant the feel of him there into my heart.

The weight of him.

The curl of his fist.

His pouty bottom lip.

The shutter of my mind’s eye clicks away–fast and furious–but the rest of me just inhales.  And rocks some more.

With any luck he’ll come home from the park tomorrow with two shoes chock full of sand.

Tomorrow he’ll be busy with the chasing and the whirling and twirling.

All the more reason to rock today.

For as long as he allows it.

We take an annual vacation in late September/early October.

We go to Walt Disney World, where we walk a cumulative hundred miles around the theme parks.

Unfortunately for my waistline, we also eat our weight in fudge and ice cream and chocolate covered everything.

And our return home is marked by the start of fall food season.  What?  Doesn’t every family have a fall food season?

Our fall food season includes pumpkin bread and cream cheese-frosted pumpkin bars.  Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  Apple pie.  Baked ziti.  And countless other calorie-laden comfort foods.

Before long the calendar flips and so begins the holiday season.  At about this point I often wonder if everyone views egg nog and sugar cookies and peanut butter balls as figure sabotage, or if it’s just me.

But then comes January 1st.  And I pledge to drop the 1.5 pounds I put on at Disney, the 3 pounds I picked up during October, and the remaining {no, I’m not going to share the number thankyouverymuch} butter weight I adhered to my thighs during the holiday season.

And I was on my way, let me just tell you.

But then–dag blast it–they start stocking the store shelves with these little beauties.

And–just like that–I cave.  For real.  Like, stick a fork in me cuz’ I’m done kind of cave.

Worse yet?

Don’t even get me started on the sinful sugary goodness that is the chick {or rabbit as the case may be}.

Now that my local grocery store has replaced all of the candy hearts with these babies, I figure it best to avoid the scale altogether.  At least until, oh May.  Wait.  Scratch that.  Because Cinco de Mayo, with it’s fried tortilla chips and guacomole fresca?  Oh and the margaritas.  Ole.

How about you?  Do you have an Easter downfall?

Today there was rain.  In the desert.

And there were peanut buttered jelly sandwiches.  And boiled eggs.  And itty bitty cartons of orange juice with itty bitty orange straws.

There were homemade Valentines.  Toes warmed by the fire.  Hiccups.

A blue balloon.  Jumping jacks.  Homemade bread cooling on a wire rack.

Cinnamon tea.  Clean sheets.  And–oh yeah–a speeding ticket.

All the while, the pitter patter.  The gentle song of it–the soundtrack of one February day.

Like a pulse it hums along: a soft and welcome patter.

I listen as it falls.  I watch the drip.  I breathe in its crisp folds.

I snuggle him.  Brush her teeth.  Give welcome home hugs and goodnight kisses.

Tomorrow the sun will peek through.  The desert will dry out.

But today there was rain.  In the desert.

And in our own way, we danced right along.

Any mother of young children can look at the picture below and immediately identify what will happen when her son or daughter attempts to pour a tablespoon or two of salad dressing.

How do we know what will happen?  We’ve experienced one too many incidents in which half the bottle is inadvertently poured out upon poor, unsuspecting greens.  It’s not pretty.

Which is why I, personally, prefer to buy salad dressings that have tops that look more like this.

Unfortunately, though, the salad dressing manufacturers sort of frown upon consumers opening up their products in the store to check for child-friendly pourability, citing something or other about sanitation.  Hmph.

This little problem resulted in many a wasted salad in my child-heavy household.

Until.

Until my wise {young} grandmother taught me a thing or two about resourcefulness.

You see, what I never realized was that the difference between those two bottles was nothing more than a removable plastic funnel.  Key word: removable.  See for yourself.

Really.  It pops right out.  You just stick a butter knife in the hole and pry it on out.  Easy peasy.  Then you give it a good wash–you know, so that your oil and vinegar dressing doesn’t mix and mingle with the kids’ ranch.  And the next time you come across a funnel-less bottle of dressing?  Voila.  Just pop this one right in.  It’ll fit, even if it’s not the same brand of salad dressing. But don’t take my word for it; check it out for yourself.

Now I always collect the funnel before washing an empty bottle and tossing it into the recycling bin.  I keep many a spare funnels on hand–just in case.

Isn’t my Gram genius?

I think so too.

*Check out more Works For Me Wednesday ideas at That Family.

Without a doubt, the best part of Blissdom–for me, anyway–was the socializing. And not just during the cocktail parties; there were plenty of opportunities to get real with fellow attendees.  Among them?  One of the highlights of my Blissdom experience was having dinner with a small group of great girls (hopefully my ordering from the kids menu–so as to avoid the sushi–didn’t bug them too badly).

Over the course of the weekend, I had the pleasure of hanging out–once again–with the two bloggers who inspired and mentored me as I brought Such The Spot to life.  As if that weren’t enough, though, I also got to meet new friends—some with blogs I’ve stalked read for quite some time, and others whose blogs are like new-found treasures for my Google Reader.  Come with me; I’ll introduce you.

Steph

Stephanie is one of my two blog heroes.  She’s a superstar in the blogging world, and for good reason: she has the sweetest, most genuine of hearts.  I met her for the first time in April of 2008 at a Disney World blogging event and I instantly discovered that she is every bit as shiny and happy in real life as her posts would suggest.  Her blog is chock full of beautiful photography, heartfelt sentiments, and prose that practically pirouettes off the page.  She blogs at Adventures in Babywearing and she’s @babysteph on Twitter.  I {big, puffy heart} love her and I know you will too, if you don’t already.

Jo-Lynne

Jo-Lynne is the other superstar blogger who inspired me.  I met her, too, for the first time at a Disney blogging event and we clicked instantly.  In spite of the popularity of her site, she is one of the most down-to-earth bloggers I know.  She’s the kind of friend who meets you with an excited SQUEE! Because she’s sincerely happy to see you.  Her advice on all things fashion and food have influenced me to improve both my wardrobe and waistline.  She blogs at Musings of A Housewife and she’s @dcrmom on Twitter.  LOVE HER!

Michelle

Michelle is a blogger I’ve admired from afar as starstruck fans often do.  Not anymore though, because after having met her in person this weekend, I realized that she is about as genuinely unassuming as can be; blogging superstardom clearly hasn’t gone to her head.  While both quiet and confident, Michelle was ever-present in her conversations with me, rather than distracted by the opportunity to network with the “big bloggers” who may have been close by.  She is just as eloquent and intriguing in living color as she comes off on the pages of her blog.  See for yourself at Scribbit or @scribbit on Twitter.

Sarah

Sarah is Stepanie’s best friend, but this was the first time I’d had the pleasure to meet her.  I can see why Stephanie loves her so  – she’s awesome, not to mention talented.  Sarah designed all the logos and signs and media for Blissdom.  You might say she’s a web designer extroidinaire.  Not that you’d know it by her demeanor.  She is quiet – very much so.  And thoughtful.  And encouraging.  And gracious.  And so very friendly.  I felt comfortable with Sarah instantly and I am so grateful to have had the chance to meet her.  She’s most active on Twitter @sarahviola but she has a blog too.

Ashleigh

Ashleigh impressed me with her friendly smile and engaging conversation when I bumped into her in between sessions at Blissdom.  Where I have a bad habit of being heinously shy and introverted, Ashleigh was outgoing without being obnoxious.  In striking up a conversation I was flattered that she seemed to want to get to know me for me, rather than from a self-promotion standpoint.  She has the friendliest of smiles, flawless skin, and really great shoes.  I’ve not read Ashleigh’s blog before, but after taking a brief look this weekend, her wholesome topics and sweet voice entice me to dive into her posts and keep going back for more.  I wish I could have spent more time getting to know her over the weekend!  She blogs at Heart and Home and she’s @heartandhome on Twitter.

Jodi

Jodi is a mom like me, literally; she’s on the Disney Moms Panel.  Though I’ve hung out with Jodi several times during various Disney-centered events, this was the first time we had the chance to spend a significant amount of time getting to know each other.  And—as I suspected I might—I really liked what I found.  Jodi is hilarious.  She’s also a great friend, always helping to promote the posts and plights of her friends rather than pushing her own interests.  Oh yeah, and she’s ambitious.  Jodi is training to run a half-marathon next month.  Something tells me she’ll do just fine.  Jodi blogs at Multitasking Mommy and is @jodigrundig on Twitter.

Nicole

Nicole was my Blissdom roomie, and just so happens to be neighbor, sort of; we’re both from Tucson.  I knew Nicole prior to Blissdom, but we hadn’t spent a ton of time together.  Now I’m wondering why.  The more I learned about Nicole, the more I discovered that we are like two peas in a pod.  Every time she told me another little nugget of information about herself I found myself saying, “hey, me too!”.  Whether we were discussing our personality quirks, political views, or homebody habits I found that the two of us have a lot more in common than just where we live.  It was awesome rooming with Nicole and getting to know her a bit better.  And lucky me – our proximity makes hanging out more often a likely possibility!  Nicole blogs at Pixel Boutique and she’s @myaprongstrings on Twitter.

This is, by no means, an exhaustive list of Blissdom’s most fabulous bloggers.  Because if it were, it would also include Amanda, Christine, Esther, and so many more.  I did, though, want to give a special shout out to the gals who went out of their way to make a Blissdom newbie {yours truly} feel right at home.  These are genuinely warm and welcoming friends–the real deal.  I hope you’ll take a minute to get to know them, if you don’t already.

How’d all ya’ll get along without me? (Like that verbiage I picked up in Nashville?)

My Blissdom weekend was jam-packed.  Full of great things—no doubt.  But jam-packed nonetheless.  I thought I’d give you a quick run-down of the good, and the not-so-good.

The Good:

• The opening keynote from Kevin Carrol was amazing.  He is an engaging speaker with an inspirational story that tugged at the heartstrings and opened my eyes to a perspective that these “adult eyes” of mine seemed to have been blind to before.  I’m absolutely going to be ordering his book from Amazon: Rules of the Red Rubber Ball: Find and Sustain Your Life’s Work Perhaps you should see if it’s worth your while as well.
• Blissdom offered the unique opportunity to network with other bloggers from every corner of the US—and everywhere in between.  Pokems were bumped, business cards were passed, and twitter lists grew.
• The Gaylord Opryland is a gorgeous small country resort.  Nicole and I did not step foot outside a single time after checking in on Thursday evening until checking out on Sunday morning.  Yet, we saw waterfalls, basked in the natural daylight, and ate to our bellies’ content.  One could live within its biodome.  Literally.
• Harry Connick Jr.  Did I mention that?
• Swag.  There was plenty of it.  And I’ve got pictures to prove it.

The Bad:

• The sessions weren’t all that informative.  I’d hoped to pick up some little gems of blogging knowledge along the way, but as it turned out I ended up mining for more copper than diamonds.  Not that copper is bad—of course—but I already had a piggybank full of pennies at home.
• It was tough to squeeze into some of the conference rooms, what with the egos taking up so much space.  Just sayin’.

Clearly, the good outweighed the not-so-good.  But if I’m being honest then I have to admit that there was a bit of each.

Oh.  And I have pictures, on the off chance you’re interested.

Photo credit: Pixel Boutique.

I’m packed.

Checked in online.

I’ve got bloggish business cards.

And my camera battery is charged.

My pokem is all set up.  {I think.}

I’ve accessorized.

Made sure to grab my power cords.

And touch bases with my roomie.

I know precisely which sessions I want to attend.

And my outfits are prepped for the cocktail parties.

There are meals in the freezer.  Clean clothes in closets and drawers.

I think I’m ready.

Ready to meet up with my bloggy buddies.

Ready to learn a thing or two about the business side of blogging.

Ready to live it up.

And break it down.

So ready to get my bliss on.

And I will.

At Blissdom.

Where else?

I’ll keep you updated via Twitter and Facebook.

And here on the blog as often as I can.

Make way Music City.

I’m headed back.

I cannot tell you how many drafts I have begun, only to subsequently scratch because I cannot get this post to say exactly what I want it to say.  The teen dating thing is a subject that weighs so heavily on my heart, for many reasons.  The first of which being that I am the mother of a teen daughter who is quickly approaching that stage of her life.  The second of which being that my teen daughter is herself the result of teen dating and I’ve spent her entire life talking honestly and openly with her in hopes that she will make choices that lead her down a less difficult path.

So when I heard the pastor say that dating equates to “practice for divorce” you might think I tended to agree.

But you’d be wrong.

Because I take quite the opposite stance on this one; I’d venture to say that dating is practice for marriage.

I have always believed that dating is a very healthy part of adolescence.  I think it’s quite normal for teenagers to be curious about and interested in relationships with the opposite sex.  The desire to have a companion, after all, was planted into our hearts long ago.  And I believe that–as they approach adulthood–teenagers can and should begin dating, so as to get a feel for what love and commitment is all about.  These are the experiences that shape their ideals for what makes a marriage.  Without those experiences, how would they know what qualities to seek out in a future spouse?

I know what you might be thinking.  You might be thinking that teenagers should have a list (figuratively or literally) of qualities and values that his or her future spouse should posess.  And I agree.  But I also think that without the very practical and principal application of dating, that it would be nearly impossible to get a feel for what those qualities and values look like, in living color.

My own experiences with dating began when I was quite young.  And if those experiences taught me anything at all, they taught me how not to let my daughters date.  But just because I won’t be allowing them the same things my parents allowed me does not mean that they won’t have their own chance to dip their toes in the waters of dating.  I want that for them.  Holding hands at the movies and first kisses and senior proms.  These are rich experiences.  Experiences I wouldn’t want to rob them of.

Dating brings with it more touchy {no pun intended, honest} subjects as well.  And those–I suppose–are what all the fuss is about.  For good reason.  There are bad things–really icky, no-good, just plain awful–byproducts of modern day dating.  But honestly, the only bad things I can think of have premarital sex as the root cause.  Seriously.  STD’s, emotional baggage, pregnancy.  All sex based.  Not dating based.

As a parent, I feel like it is my responsibility to speak crystal clearly with my daughters about sex.  Not just about the nuts {again with the pun thing, sorry} and bolts of it, but about the far more important aspects of it as well.  About the emotional and spiritual parts that carry on long after the deed is done.  You know what though?  It’s also my responsibility to introduce them to the experience of dating.  Cautiously, of course, and with plenty of guidelines.  They’ll know my expectations.  They’ll know the ground rules.  And I pray that–armed with that knowledge–they will make good decisions.

I have long clung to the theory that my job as a parent is to help my children grow both roots and wings.  And while it seems like it would be much easier to seal them safely inside a giant bubble, somehow I don’t think it’d fill the job description.

So yes, my daughters will be allowed to date.  I won’t deny them the butterflies and I can’t spare them the broken hearts.  I’ll equip them as best I can and then I’ll let them spread their wings.  I’ll be praying all the while, mind you.  Because when it comes right down to it, that’s all you can do: love ‘em, guide ‘em, let ‘em go.  And pray.  Pray, pray, pray.

Considering the fact that I have four children, perhaps we should add a small chapel onto the house.  You’ll know where to find me.

We went to church this morning.

While we were there the pastor preached on marriage.  He spoke about young people and dating.  During his “talk” he referred to dating as “pointless” and “practice for divorce.”

I have an opinion.

But I want to hear yours before I taint the conversation with mine.

So tell me.  What say you?

Jayce has a new love.

He found the first one yesterday.

But in between his balloon bouncing and train zooming it got away from him.

So we had to go in search of more.

He looked in all the wrong places.

Until.

Where did you find the first one?

Over there.

Under that tree?

Yeah.

Maybe we should look there.

Yeah.

Look!  There are acorns growing on the tree.  See?  They’re wearing little hats.  When they fall off the tree, they land down here.

Yeah!

Let’s look for more.

Ottay.

And then today.

Where are you going?

Outside.

What are you going to do out there?

Find atorns.

Okay.  Put your shoes on.

Ottay.

He puts on his shoes.  And the tie he found in his sister’s closet that he can’t go without.

He squats.

He looks up at the tree.  He waits.

And then…

Look!  Another one fell off the tree.  Can I bring it inside?

Yes.

And so it goes – the rest of the morning.

The shoes.  The squatting.  The wait.  The hunt.

The discovery.

This boy.  He fills me up.  With his wonder.  His curiosity.  His words.  His stubby fingers.  His Mickey Mouse pajamas and his pink tie.

I think I’ll start hiding the atorns.

So he never stops looking.