Okay, I’m only 31 and I’m starting to feel like a dinosaur in the age department when it comes to technology these days.

I used to just understand things.. naturally.. there was no work involved.

But I don’t feel that way, not since my three kiddos have zapped the brain cells right out of me.

What was I saying again?

Just kidding… sort of.

I have a confession.

I just don’t get Twitter… at all.

I mean I have an account and if you follow me, I’ll follow you back as long as you’re a real person and not spamming me.

I have TweetDeck on my laptop and on my snazzy android phone.

I even participate in #FF (Follow Friday for those that are more clueless than me), sometimes, when I remember or when Terri over at Terri’s Little Corner faithfully #FF me because she is a rock star with high spirit and I heart her blog!

And occasionally I talk #OLTL and #GH with my soap friends…

Or #TRDC when participating with The Red Dress Club.

And when I read a blog post that I absolutely love and think others should read too, then I tweet the link and give that blogger props.

Sometimes, I tweet links to my posts too.. when I remember or when I become randomly obsessed with comments and stats, which is few and far between.

Otherwise, I don’t really participate. I barely post Facebook updates either, which is somewhat the same right? Okay not really.

I’ve heard rumors that it’s so very addicting, that once you start you won’t want to stop but…

I don’t like jumping into other people’s conversations in real life, so I feel just as awkward and shy doing so in the twitterverse.

Just on the fringes, watching, waiting and feeling like I’m missing something huge, but not entirely sure how to get the most out of it.

The community of which people speak of, I see it, right in front of me.

I’m like a ghost.

A presence not really known.

 

And since these feelings have fallen into the category Advice for Me: prompt #6 over at the #SummerBlogSocial 2011, I figured I’d join the fun that the lovely and talented Liz of A Belle, a Bean & a Chicago Dog and Jessica of Four Plus An Angel have put together as a sort of blogging conference/networking from home. Make sure you check out all the wonderful bloggers participating in it.

My son’s enthusiasm for baseball is just fascinating.

Why you may ask, because he has been obsessed since he was born!

Okay, perhaps we had a little something to do with his wardrobe choices early on, but the trend has not only stuck, it’s become his life.

He loves watching, playing, wearing and talking baseball.

He has more baseball bats and baseballs than we know what to do with because every time we are in a store and he sets his eyes on a shiny new bat I can’t help but buy it for him. I think of it as an investment in his future and mine, I mean when he makes the big bucks he’ll for sure buy me a dream home!

Heck, the kid broke his arm at the age of two and the reason I knew something was wrong was because he refused to put on his brand new baseball glove. Didn’t stop him from playing though..

Alex started t-ball this year.

Every Saturday, unless it rained, we went off to t-ball with a very excited little boy, holding his glove, wearing a big dazzling grin, chattering up a storm about how he was playing t-ball that day.

His team was the Rangers. Being huge Phillies fans we just had to deal. He did wear his shirt and hat with pride. He also enjoyed playing with his friend Braelyn!

His favorite part was batting, and the poor kid only got to do 1 inning a game, but he loved every second of it!

Plus, and I can’t believe I don’t have pictures of this, he would slide at every base, including 1st!

Alex has acquired his first of many trophies.

We’ll be sure to hang on to it, he might want it on the same shelf as his World Series ring one day!

Congrats on a wonderful season Alex!

I am very proud of you!

 

Had to throw this one in too because I just love it..

Yep, definitely the future of baseball right there.

He was born to play!

Apparently I wrote the following on October 8th, 2011 and saved it in a Word document at 11:55pm.

–> The cool spring air hung fresh and light against my skin. I sidestepped the few small patches of snow left on the sidewalk. Not wanting my toes, set free in sexy black sandals, to touch the melting remnants from winter. The two-inch heals clicked against the concrete as we made our way toward Washington Square. Parker’s firm grasp wrapped around my delicate hand, pulling me forward, always several strides ahead. It used to bother me, how he refused to walk with me, beside me, not willing to take the world on together. The desire to rip my hand from his, to stand independent, had faded long ago. It hung limp and defeated, his fingers crushing my spirit, Not that it mattered. He loved me. That was enough.

“Here we go,” he smiled, guiding me through the doorway into the dimly lit restaurant.

“Welcome back, Mr. Evans! Follow me please!” The hostess chimed brightly with false bravado, batting cheap mascara clumped eyelashes Parker’s way, making me ill in the process.  She glanced in my direction briefly acknowledging my existence before leading the way to a private room in the back. The cozy atmosphere closed in on me as people stopped conversations to stare as we passed through the bar and main dining room. The downfall of dating Parker Evans, I hated being on display. <–

What happens? What was I thinking? Where were these characters going? I vaguely remember…

A forbidden love.

An aching desire despite life’s circumstances.

The passion I felt at the time is lost, the memory of why it was important to get this written gone.

I wish this wasn’t forgotten.

Left behind.

Like so many things.

I’m blessed to have found it.

Though I didn’t know it was lost.

It brought a smile to my lips.

It made me believe, briefly perhaps, but believe just the same, that I CAN string words together.

Bring characters to life.

Write.

Something found indeed.

I never pictured myself being at this point of time, heart broken and empty handed.

Over twelve months of waiting and praying, crying and anger at not being on the same page as my husband when it came to adding another baby to our wonderful family of five.

Twelve more months of being on the same page.

Twelve months of waiting and praying, crying and anger that finally turned into depression and indifference.

The internet and church, lands of pregnancy and newborn baby minefields, waiting to ambush me and break off another piece of my already weakened heart.

Happiness for friends.

A walled up heart.

Blessed to have my three healthy babies, who are no longer babies.

Trying to come to grips with God’s timing.

Not my timing.

My picture of a complete family may never be realized.

My soul aching to have this month be the end to my waiting and next month be the beginning of someone fresh and new.

But it’s His timing.

It’s been a year of trying.

A year of hoping and praying before that.

A lifetime of yearning.

Number four.

One day.

Soon.

Please?