Before I begin this post, I’d like to thank those of you who have so faithfully put up with the changing look of this blog. It could probably be an indication of the depth of my mind, but I prefer to think of it as a manifestation of my femininity. I am a woman, what else can you expect? My husband would probably agree. He has seen me change dresses several times before walking out the door to church Sunday morning, but usually the reason I must do that is because I consumed one too many cookies that week and Sunday always seems to be the day my sin is found out.
So how did I get from the look of this blog to eating cookies? Beats me. On to the post…
I’m pretty sure I know how I’m going to die.
I know that is a most morbid statement, but my theory has substantial evidence. It most likely won’t be by anything very traumatic or glorious.
Fact is, I’m probably going to enter the pearly gates by way of my rearview mirror. If you would go to my Toyota right now and sit in the driver’s seat, there is a 90% chance that that mirror is not aimed out the back window, but towards the back seat.
My conclusion is this…whoever invented the rearview mirror did not have kids as cute as mine! Oh dear, that sounds so prideful just saying it, but I’m sure I’m not the only mom who thinks that about her offspring.
Way more times than I care to admit, I’ve had to tell myself to quit looking in that mirror. Although I have become quite adept at traveling down the mountain looking backwards.
But you know it truly isn’t my fault. It’s Lowell’s.
If he had only warned me 13 years ago what the miniatures of him would look like, I’d perhaps be able to live to a ripe old age of 100. Falling in love with him, he never told me that I’d be falling in love 5 times all over again. And that it would be dangerous to my health.
The first miniature to arrive looks pretty much like a smaller version of his daddy. The second following close behind has some character traits that I will not claim, so therefore they must have come from the daddy as well. The third was expressly ordered by her daddy, right down to the curly blonde hair and blue eyes, which I’ll claim. The fourth is where the blueprint might have been switched up a just a tad, because he has a few features that I’m pretty sure came through my side. But the fifth has me falling in love all over again, especially since Daddy so generously bestowed his dimples to the little munchkin.
So perhaps now you can see why I have a hard time driving in a straight line. Oh the horror and humiliation should an officer of the law pull me over because of all the weaving and wish me to do a sobriety test. Probably all that would come out is a whimper while this crazy mama pointed at her rearview mirror….
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