JustMOMsensations

We prepare our kids for the environment each day as they walk out the door.   Warm clothes protect against cold weather.   Sun-screen stops harmful UV rays.   Bug repellant helps discourage bug bites.   We also need to arm our kids with bully repellant. Bully Symptoms: I don’t think kids who bully are bad people.   I believe these two symptoms are key: 1.        Hurt people, hurt people.   When a child lashes out at another, is it really about that specific situation or is it more likely a manifestation of other pain in that child’s life and they don’t have skills to express positively? 2.        We do better once we know better.   If a child has been witness to behavior that is negative, without open dialogue to explain what is an appropriate and what is not, how do they know to behave better? This Wednesday is another ‘anti-bullying day’ to raise awareness by wearing pink.  Bully repellant is not just the colour pink, it is  real work  between kids and parents.   I en

With the blog site in place, the fun part of blogging had begun.   What a wondrous opportunity for a writer to compose, present and collect feedback, in real time.   Not yet convinced blogging was the right method of exploring my writing voice, I dove in anyway. Producing content was tougher than anticipated.   Finessing the words was pure joy.   When rules began interrupting the creative flow, the experience became something else entirely.   I expected the odd creative block, therefore, mitigated the risk by collecting an abundance of material for 1-2 posts weekly.   My challenge was sticking to the rules for ‘successful bloggers’ gathered through internet research and referencing social media stars.   After navigating the plethora of advice, I narrowed it down to 10 key points. 10 Content Rules for Successful Bloggers 1.        Specialize in one topic per blog – a clear vision of content attracts a more targeted and loyal audience. 2.        Catchy titles – have you

This poem was read at a funeral for a business colleague.  It touched me deeply and still drives me to revisit how my intentions compare to my results.   I want to share it with you here.   ~ The Dash Poem; by Linda Ellis ~   I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of his friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning ...to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the second with tears. But he said that what mattered most of all was the "dash" between those years. For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on this earth. And now, only those who loved her know what that little line is worth. For it matters not how much we own: the cars, the house, the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our "dash". So think about this long and hard. Are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left. You could be at "dash-mid-r

My social media adventure kicked off with building my first blog.     With the goal of exploring my writing voice in mind, evaluation of the best platform began.   I thought of it like building a house.   The foundation must be a solid base for the home.   It is more difficult to move after construction is complete, so making the right choice up-front is ideal.   My assessment began with two questions: 1.        Do I embed the blog in my existing website or use a different site? 2.        If a different site, do I register a URL and build it myself or utilize an existing blog service ? Since the future of my blog was uncertain, I did not want to marry it to my business website.   I conceived and registered a domain name (website name), then began to build an independent blog site.     After a few hours struggling with format and structure, I decided to leave web-design to the professionals.   I joined BlogSpot. TIP:   if selling your blog is a future possibility, regist

All is black.   I am jarred from an abyss into reality.   Each sense sparks to life with new awareness yet I am hesitant to make the connections between senses, memories and the present moment.   Eyes open.   Dull light is coming in through the window, but what window is this? The surface below me does not feel like the feather top Mom laid over my unyielding dorm room bunk.   Afraid to turn my head, my eyes scan the room as my fingers begin a search for answers from the material beneath me.   The texture thick, course and littered with holes like the worn couch I used to play on in Grandmas basement.   Near my left hip there is wetness.   My head aches.   I hear my heart beating faster and with each pulse pain slices through the memories I am trying to reconstruct.   It starts out black and empty before pictures begin to shuffle in.     Black spaces remain where the pictures misconnect.   Pieces are missing. I hear breathing.   Risking more daggers in my brain I turn towa