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Showing posts from September, 2017

We Interrupt Our Normal Programming . . .

Dear reader,

My purpose today: I need your help!!I am looking to up my blogging and need help shifting gears.

First, if you are one of my few but growing number of readers, why do you read my posts? What is it that makes you click on the blog posts I share on Facebook? (If it is because we are blood, and you feel obligated to click and pretend to care, then that's okay so let me know.)

Second, what do you wish I would write about? Are there topics I could cover to help you in any way or solve a problem? 

Finally, what suggestions do you have for a new Blog name and/or web domain? I don't want to go too much into why I am thinking of changing my current domain, which is themereedges.com (Job 26:14). Just know that I plan on it unless someone convinces me otherwise.

The domain name and title are dependent on why people (almost all women) read what I write. Obviously, I am not entirely sure why I have the readers that I do (with bare minimal marketing thus far), but I can make s…

Please Just Don't Be a Serial Killer

I am a single mom. That sentence holds a lot of weight for me. I feel its heaviness, its sin and sadness and shame. However, I do not associate all of that loaded statement as a painful burden. Perhaps it is blind confidence or irrational optimism, but I feel my job, and the fact that I do it alone during 95% of my week, is monumental and heroic. It may be that egoism plays a part in the latter assessment.

Nonetheless, I will admit my heroism leans more toward the Iron Man or Dare Devil side of the spectrum. I can be a real jackass, and this is not conducive for parenting two boys, especially when you’re going solo. Every Tony Stark needs a Pepper Potts, but not everyone gets one.

Indeed, I am alone. There is no one there late at night to tell me to get over the pee on the bathroom floor because it’s normal my kids to take a leak everywhere but actually in the toilet. There is no hand on my side as I lie in bed crying and cussing about my child’s hurts and awkward efforts to fit in at…