Once upon a time, my aunt and uncle made a grocery store for my brother and me. Just some shelving filled with a bunch of empty cans and boxes, and a case that served as a holder for our "fruits" and "vegetables" and as a cash register stand, but we played with it up in an attic room for hours on end.
I couldn't help but remember that wonderful little store when I created one of my own for my own girls this afternoon. My 2nd grader, a math whiz, is having a hard time grasping the whole money thing, so to give her practice, I created a game of it.
We don't have room for a store like my aunt and uncle built so I did the next best thing:
I printed out several sheets of play money. I suppose I could have used Monopoly money but this was cute and served the purpose. I skipped printing the coins -- I don't have the patience for cutting those out -- and used real coins instead. For easier handling, I stashed the coins in snack baggies.
Next, I printed out some price tags and wrote a bunch of random prices on them.
My 5-year-old helped pick products out of the pantry (canned goods, box of rice, box of cereal, etc.) and we lined them up on the dining room table. We attached price tags with tape.
I gave the girls some money and told them to go shopping. I acted as cashier, with a bit of money of my own (for change) and a calculator.
Turned out, I didn't need the calculator because my big girl wanted to pay for her items individually -- all the better because it was more practice for her!
The little one worked on identifying the coins and bills to understand how much each was while the older one worked on paying for her items and figuring out what her correct change should be.
It was a fun afternoon and the girls agreed that I should save the play money so we could play again another day. I think next time, we'll set up a clothing boutique! That way, we can have a fashion show too!
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Groundhog Day All Over Again
So the rodent saw his shadow - again. Hard to believe that the world stops to see a groundhog coming out of his hole. Even harder that they believe he is able to predict the weather. Come to think of it, I wonder what his track record is against the meteorologists?!
Isn't it crazy how traditions come to be? I mean, who came up with the idea that a groundhog would be able to predict whether spring was on its way? And why this particular groundhog? Was it a publicity stunt for the sleepy little town of Punxsutawney, PA? It certainly helped to put it on the map. People still can't spell it but they've at least heard of it, and judging by the size of the party going on there today, business is booming there this week.
From the Groundhog.org website: "The celebration of Groundhog Day began with Pennsylvania's earliest settlers. They brought with them the legend of Candlemas Day, which states, 'For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day, so far will the snow swirl in May...'"
If the snow's swirling here in May, you'll find me on a beach somewhere, sipping a mojito. Somebody else can shovel.
Isn't it crazy how traditions come to be? I mean, who came up with the idea that a groundhog would be able to predict whether spring was on its way? And why this particular groundhog? Was it a publicity stunt for the sleepy little town of Punxsutawney, PA? It certainly helped to put it on the map. People still can't spell it but they've at least heard of it, and judging by the size of the party going on there today, business is booming there this week.
From the Groundhog.org website: "The celebration of Groundhog Day began with Pennsylvania's earliest settlers. They brought with them the legend of Candlemas Day, which states, 'For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day, so far will the snow swirl in May...'"
If the snow's swirling here in May, you'll find me on a beach somewhere, sipping a mojito. Somebody else can shovel.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Declaration of Independence
You know it's not going to be a good day when your seven-year-old declares her independence. Little sis was dressed and ready this morning before she was, so I sent her downstairs and told her she could pick a TV show. Normally, that's not a problem because she'll pick something they both like, but today, she chose Little Bear.
The older one took it as a personal offense: "I'm too big to watch Nick Jr! I don't like Little Bear! Can't it be my turn?" (howling all the while).
Me: "No, honey, it can't be your turn. There's no time. You can have your turn tomorrow."
Her: "But I don't want to watch Little Bear!"
Me: "So I guess you'll have to eat breakfast in the dining room and take your turn tomorrow."
Her: (after more howling) "Well then FINE! I declare my independence!"
I'm not sure what exactly that independence entailed, and I'm not sure she did either. It must have made her feel good to say it, though, because she finally stopped screeching and ate her breakfast.
Meanwhile, we realized that Little Sis seemed to have lost her favorite Spongebob winter cap. Picture it: bright yellow Spongebob face in all his glory, topped with a matching bright yellow pom-pom and tied with bright yellow braids (which, to her, are her hair, of course). The hat was not in the box we use to house winter gear -- not sure why I even bothered to look there because I'm the only one who ever puts things away in it. It was not in her book bag, either.
I asked if maybe she had lost it at school but she said she hadn't worn it yesterday. Her independent sister claimed she had and WWIII broke out about that.
So, to calm things, I suggested that she look for Spongebob in the lost and found box at school and that I'd continue the search at home. Apparently the thought of this was just too much -- she broke down sobbing and absolutely refused to get on the bus! All the other kids had taken their seats by this point, and there's my five-year-old, holding onto me like a spider monkey and crying her eyes out about Spongebob.
I carried her aboard, plopped her in her seat and kissed her on her head before leaving.
The hat? In the back seat of my car. Naturally.
I'm contemplating my own declaration of independence but I'm not certain anyone would notice.
The older one took it as a personal offense: "I'm too big to watch Nick Jr! I don't like Little Bear! Can't it be my turn?" (howling all the while).
Me: "No, honey, it can't be your turn. There's no time. You can have your turn tomorrow."
Her: "But I don't want to watch Little Bear!"
Me: "So I guess you'll have to eat breakfast in the dining room and take your turn tomorrow."
Her: (after more howling) "Well then FINE! I declare my independence!"
I'm not sure what exactly that independence entailed, and I'm not sure she did either. It must have made her feel good to say it, though, because she finally stopped screeching and ate her breakfast.
Meanwhile, we realized that Little Sis seemed to have lost her favorite Spongebob winter cap. Picture it: bright yellow Spongebob face in all his glory, topped with a matching bright yellow pom-pom and tied with bright yellow braids (which, to her, are her hair, of course). The hat was not in the box we use to house winter gear -- not sure why I even bothered to look there because I'm the only one who ever puts things away in it. It was not in her book bag, either.
I asked if maybe she had lost it at school but she said she hadn't worn it yesterday. Her independent sister claimed she had and WWIII broke out about that.
So, to calm things, I suggested that she look for Spongebob in the lost and found box at school and that I'd continue the search at home. Apparently the thought of this was just too much -- she broke down sobbing and absolutely refused to get on the bus! All the other kids had taken their seats by this point, and there's my five-year-old, holding onto me like a spider monkey and crying her eyes out about Spongebob.
I carried her aboard, plopped her in her seat and kissed her on her head before leaving.
The hat? In the back seat of my car. Naturally.
I'm contemplating my own declaration of independence but I'm not certain anyone would notice.
Friday, January 27, 2012
I Got Pinned
Have you been invited? No? You don't know what you're missing!
Pinterest is the latest craze in the social networking sphere. How to describe it? I'd say it's a mix between scrapbooking, looking through magazines and a touch of crack. Yep - crack. That's how addictive it is.
Enter the world of Pinterest and suddenly you're finding unusual appetizers for your next gathering, cool ideas to keep the kids occupied on rainy days, a great gift for your hard-to-shop-for-mother-in-law (man, that's a lot of hyphens!) and design ideas for your dream home. Pinterest is a way of sharing things found elsewhere on the Internet - from blogs, online catalogs, personal photos, etc. and it's catching on like wildfire!
Once in, you begin "pinning" the things you find to your "boards" to categorize them, in a way creating little electronic scrapbooks for future reference. Through the power of Facebook and Twitter, you can share your pins with others and "friend" or "follow" others to exchange ideas.
Jump in, check it out. But it's crazy-addictive, so don't say I didn't warn you!
Pinterest is the latest craze in the social networking sphere. How to describe it? I'd say it's a mix between scrapbooking, looking through magazines and a touch of crack. Yep - crack. That's how addictive it is.
Enter the world of Pinterest and suddenly you're finding unusual appetizers for your next gathering, cool ideas to keep the kids occupied on rainy days, a great gift for your hard-to-shop-for-mother-in-law (man, that's a lot of hyphens!) and design ideas for your dream home. Pinterest is a way of sharing things found elsewhere on the Internet - from blogs, online catalogs, personal photos, etc. and it's catching on like wildfire!
Once in, you begin "pinning" the things you find to your "boards" to categorize them, in a way creating little electronic scrapbooks for future reference. Through the power of Facebook and Twitter, you can share your pins with others and "friend" or "follow" others to exchange ideas.
Jump in, check it out. But it's crazy-addictive, so don't say I didn't warn you!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
What's A Blog To Do?
My blog is floundering, not by any fault of its own. I think it just hasn't matured yet. It's struggling to find out who it is - what it wants to be when it grows up. It's having an identity crisis of sorts.
And I, its mother, haven't been very attentive. I'm busy, you know? As I tell my kids, I'm one mommy with two hands. (Octopi have it so easy!) So while I'm working/tending kids/going to lessons/doing my school work, my blog waits patiently.
I'm not a Julie and Julia kind of girl -- I don't have the time to commit to creating gourmet meals every night for the sake of a blog. The Happiness Project's been done. And frankly, I'm not in this for the attention. I've done PR and I've had enough of the limelight, thankyouverymuch.
Maybe it'll grow into a novel. Maybe it'll spur creativity in other areas. Maybe it'll act as therapy! Who knows?
I'm not sure what this blog will be but I'm sure that, if I keep at it, it will tell me eventually. Just be patient and enjoy the ride.
And I, its mother, haven't been very attentive. I'm busy, you know? As I tell my kids, I'm one mommy with two hands. (Octopi have it so easy!) So while I'm working/tending kids/going to lessons/doing my school work, my blog waits patiently.
I'm not a Julie and Julia kind of girl -- I don't have the time to commit to creating gourmet meals every night for the sake of a blog. The Happiness Project's been done. And frankly, I'm not in this for the attention. I've done PR and I've had enough of the limelight, thankyouverymuch.
Maybe it'll grow into a novel. Maybe it'll spur creativity in other areas. Maybe it'll act as therapy! Who knows?
I'm not sure what this blog will be but I'm sure that, if I keep at it, it will tell me eventually. Just be patient and enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Back to School
I've wanted to go back to school pretty much since I graduated. I love school -- the books, the smell of chalk, the term papers. (Hey, I've already admitted to being a geek!) I think that's why I became a teacher.
Today, many years and several career changes later, I find myself back in school. It took all my courage and then some to make the leap. Funny, isn't it, how times change? All of a sudden, this former A student goodie two shoes is scared out of her wits in going back! And funnier still -- I've been part of this program now for a year and my stomach still does a flip-flop when it comes time to hit send to submit the latest assignment. I did just that a few moments ago: said a little prayer and sent my paper off into the black hole of the Internet, hopefully to be received lovingly by my faceless professor at the other end.
So why the anxiety? I've been a marketing communications professional for more than a decade -- plenty of time to bring ideas to the table and strength to the program I'm in. I think the online factor is part of the problem. While we do get to "chat" and "connect" in class, it's not the classroom environment I'm accustomed to. Maybe it's the lack of chalk? Who knows.
But I think the issue is deeper. Somewhere in the ten plus years of being out in the world trying to prove myself in being able to do something I wasn't formally trained to do (my degree is in English and I'm certified to teach grades 7-12, but I work in a marketing communications department), I lost my classroom confidence. Now, in my online classroom setting among other professionals in the field, most of whom were formally trained, I find myself the shy kid in the back, afraid to raise her hand.
It's still the start of a new semester. I go through these jitters for a while until I start to feel comfortable in the class. I guess you're never too old to learn something new, or to feel like a kid again.
Today, many years and several career changes later, I find myself back in school. It took all my courage and then some to make the leap. Funny, isn't it, how times change? All of a sudden, this former A student goodie two shoes is scared out of her wits in going back! And funnier still -- I've been part of this program now for a year and my stomach still does a flip-flop when it comes time to hit send to submit the latest assignment. I did just that a few moments ago: said a little prayer and sent my paper off into the black hole of the Internet, hopefully to be received lovingly by my faceless professor at the other end.
So why the anxiety? I've been a marketing communications professional for more than a decade -- plenty of time to bring ideas to the table and strength to the program I'm in. I think the online factor is part of the problem. While we do get to "chat" and "connect" in class, it's not the classroom environment I'm accustomed to. Maybe it's the lack of chalk? Who knows.
But I think the issue is deeper. Somewhere in the ten plus years of being out in the world trying to prove myself in being able to do something I wasn't formally trained to do (my degree is in English and I'm certified to teach grades 7-12, but I work in a marketing communications department), I lost my classroom confidence. Now, in my online classroom setting among other professionals in the field, most of whom were formally trained, I find myself the shy kid in the back, afraid to raise her hand.
It's still the start of a new semester. I go through these jitters for a while until I start to feel comfortable in the class. I guess you're never too old to learn something new, or to feel like a kid again.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Sick Momma
How do you keep all the balls in the air when all you want to do is curl up into a ball yourself? It hit me on Saturday afternoon and I've been down for the count since. Tried to take a much-needed sick day today but my little one ended up on the sick list with me. To her credit, she was very good: she played quietly and even allowed me to take two naps (checking on me every few minutes to stick the thermometer in my ear...). Needless to say, it wasn't the restful day I was hoping for.
It's amazing how quickly kids bounce back with a little Motrin. Wish I had her energy.
And so, in the meantime, a big basket of laundry sits in the middle of the living room floor, waiting for somebody to take it upstairs and put it away. Dusting and vacuuming wait yet another day. The work that's piling up at work? I'll deal with that when I can lift my head off the pillow longer than a few minutes at a time.
It's amazing how quickly kids bounce back with a little Motrin. Wish I had her energy.
And so, in the meantime, a big basket of laundry sits in the middle of the living room floor, waiting for somebody to take it upstairs and put it away. Dusting and vacuuming wait yet another day. The work that's piling up at work? I'll deal with that when I can lift my head off the pillow longer than a few minutes at a time.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Lazarus
We have hermit crabs. Four of them to be exact. We'd much rather have a chocolate lab, I think, but thanks to my allergies to all things with fur or feathers, hermit crabs it is.
Hermit crabs have gotten much more expensive since I was a kid. Used to be, you'd buy a crab on the boardwalk down the shore, stick it in a wire cage, and he'd live about a week -- two, if you were lucky and remembered to feed him.
Today, hermit crabs (ours, anyway) live in tricked-out habitats with a mix of coconut soil and sand, a gauge for humidity and one for temperature, and a thermostat and heat lamps to keep things at a cozy 80 degrees. They require two types of water: salt water and dechlorinated water. And their diet has changed, too -- no longer satisfied with those little brown pellet things, hermit crabs these days dine on a range of foods, from coconut to fresh fruits, from popcorn (yes, really!) to peanut butter.
So yesterday, as my eldest was spraying down the habitat to boost humidity, she called to me that it smelled like someone had died. Sure enough, as I dug around to see if I could locate our four little friends, I found (gulp!) body parts -- enough to make one crab. The kids were grossed out and ran to Daddy. I was pretty grossed out, too, but kept digging.
I found four live crabs and was perplexed. This was brand-new soil that we just put in last week, so where did these body parts come from?
My husband, a Jersey shore boy, is very wise (sometimes). He told me that all crabs shed body parts when they grow. Really? I figured they grew, just like our kids, in the same skin and just moved into a new house.
Sure enough, one of the crabs, "Sam" (or "Samuel" when he's feeling formal) sported a new, pink pincher that formerly was purple.
Guess we learn something every day.
Hermit crabs have gotten much more expensive since I was a kid. Used to be, you'd buy a crab on the boardwalk down the shore, stick it in a wire cage, and he'd live about a week -- two, if you were lucky and remembered to feed him.
Today, hermit crabs (ours, anyway) live in tricked-out habitats with a mix of coconut soil and sand, a gauge for humidity and one for temperature, and a thermostat and heat lamps to keep things at a cozy 80 degrees. They require two types of water: salt water and dechlorinated water. And their diet has changed, too -- no longer satisfied with those little brown pellet things, hermit crabs these days dine on a range of foods, from coconut to fresh fruits, from popcorn (yes, really!) to peanut butter.
So yesterday, as my eldest was spraying down the habitat to boost humidity, she called to me that it smelled like someone had died. Sure enough, as I dug around to see if I could locate our four little friends, I found (gulp!) body parts -- enough to make one crab. The kids were grossed out and ran to Daddy. I was pretty grossed out, too, but kept digging.
I found four live crabs and was perplexed. This was brand-new soil that we just put in last week, so where did these body parts come from?
My husband, a Jersey shore boy, is very wise (sometimes). He told me that all crabs shed body parts when they grow. Really? I figured they grew, just like our kids, in the same skin and just moved into a new house.
Sure enough, one of the crabs, "Sam" (or "Samuel" when he's feeling formal) sported a new, pink pincher that formerly was purple.
Guess we learn something every day.
Friday, January 13, 2012
My Husband Thinks I'm Working
I'm in a master's degree program and do all my work online. I should be working on school stuff right now, and here I sit, blogging. Why? I think my brain is frazzled and this is a good way to relax and maybe vent a bit. Hmmm, a glass of wine might help, too.
I already mentioned the morning we had. Today at work wasn't much better. Pure craziness with no end in sight. Our office is closed on Monday and, rather that bringing a big sigh of relief, it stresses me out because I keep thinking of the work that will continue to pile up in my absence. Yes, really.
So I'm torn: do I do some work on my own time to catch up, or do I spend the day having fun with my kids? My husband has to work so it'll just be the girls and me.
What I end up doing will likely be what I usually do -- spend the day with the girls and then, once I tuck them in, dive in and do some work so I'm not crazy when I return on Tuesday.
Oh wait -- I have a paper due on Monday! What was I saying about balance? And here I sit blogging...
I already mentioned the morning we had. Today at work wasn't much better. Pure craziness with no end in sight. Our office is closed on Monday and, rather that bringing a big sigh of relief, it stresses me out because I keep thinking of the work that will continue to pile up in my absence. Yes, really.
So I'm torn: do I do some work on my own time to catch up, or do I spend the day having fun with my kids? My husband has to work so it'll just be the girls and me.
What I end up doing will likely be what I usually do -- spend the day with the girls and then, once I tuck them in, dive in and do some work so I'm not crazy when I return on Tuesday.
Oh wait -- I have a paper due on Monday! What was I saying about balance? And here I sit blogging...
Work/Life Balance (Nearly) Topples
So... I think this morning's post must have jinxed me. I'm not sure what threw us off today, but something did and we ended up making a mad dash for the school bus -- hairbrush in hand because I had yet to brush my older daughter's long hair. As we neared the bus stop, I looked down and realized that K had Uggs on instead of sneakers -- and she had indoor soccer tonight after school! So I tossed her the brush, told her to start brushing, and high-tailed it back home for the sneaks.
(This part will really impress you) I grabbed the sneakers, got in my car and drove to the bus stop. Since K, of course, didn't brush her hair as asked, I brushed it out into a nice pony tail, put the sneakers in her bag, and kissed two kids before putting them on the bus!
Yes, I'm Superwoman -- and yes, that was my exercise for the day!
(This part will really impress you) I grabbed the sneakers, got in my car and drove to the bus stop. Since K, of course, didn't brush her hair as asked, I brushed it out into a nice pony tail, put the sneakers in her bag, and kissed two kids before putting them on the bus!
Yes, I'm Superwoman -- and yes, that was my exercise for the day!
Balancing Act
So what else to expect from a busy momma -- a post about the work/life challenge. Yes, it's been written before but not by me.
I have two beautiful little girls and my love for them is limitless. I've stayed home with each of them and as much as I relished that time, I yearned for more. I found that I needed to be with adults, using my brain and abilities for more than Sesame Street and goldfish crackers. Please don't misinterpret that. While I'm sure not all stay-at-home moms feel this way, I did.
But the girls are older now -- in grade school -- and now I find myself wanting to slow down time. My oldest surprised me yesterday by taking a bath all by herself. She even washed her hair and got all of the soap out! I'm very proud of her, but that's just one more thing that Mommy's not needed for.
Do I want to quit work and stay home? Not by a long shot. I think my kids and I are both happier when I'm working. You know the saying, "If Momma ain't happy, nobody's happy"? Yep, that would be me. I need to work. I need to feel like the gifts God gave me are being put to the best use and yes, I know my children are gifts, too. Before we get into that argument, let me just say that I give my kids my very best. When we're home together, I'm all theirs. Just look at my house and you'll see proof of that: dusty shelves, messy rooms. I'd rather play Candyland with them (one more time) than scoot them up to their rooms so I can clean. The very reason I chose an online master's program was so I wouldn't have to give up time with my kids.
No, I think I wish what all other parents wish -- for time to slow down so we can hold our babies just a little longer before they grow up. My working isn't going to change that.
I have two beautiful little girls and my love for them is limitless. I've stayed home with each of them and as much as I relished that time, I yearned for more. I found that I needed to be with adults, using my brain and abilities for more than Sesame Street and goldfish crackers. Please don't misinterpret that. While I'm sure not all stay-at-home moms feel this way, I did.
But the girls are older now -- in grade school -- and now I find myself wanting to slow down time. My oldest surprised me yesterday by taking a bath all by herself. She even washed her hair and got all of the soap out! I'm very proud of her, but that's just one more thing that Mommy's not needed for.
Do I want to quit work and stay home? Not by a long shot. I think my kids and I are both happier when I'm working. You know the saying, "If Momma ain't happy, nobody's happy"? Yep, that would be me. I need to work. I need to feel like the gifts God gave me are being put to the best use and yes, I know my children are gifts, too. Before we get into that argument, let me just say that I give my kids my very best. When we're home together, I'm all theirs. Just look at my house and you'll see proof of that: dusty shelves, messy rooms. I'd rather play Candyland with them (one more time) than scoot them up to their rooms so I can clean. The very reason I chose an online master's program was so I wouldn't have to give up time with my kids.
No, I think I wish what all other parents wish -- for time to slow down so we can hold our babies just a little longer before they grow up. My working isn't going to change that.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
My Love-Hate Relationship
I have this ongoing battle with myself. A love-hate relationship, if you will. I'm not a bad person. I try to be nice to people and animals alike. I'm of average intelligence (some days are better than others in that arena), and I think I'm pretty good at what I do. And, for a 40-something chick, I can still turn my husband's head. Still, there are these thighs and that bulge in the belly area thanks to two little girls...
Yes, the battle I'm talking about is one I'm sure ladies my age know well -- the Battle of the Bulge and the Race against Father Time.
My husband and I have been married ten years. When we returned from our honeymoon and got our photos back, the sight of me in a swimsuit made me cringe -- and so, off to Weight Watchers we went. Both of us. I lost 20 lbs. and became a Lifetime member. My husband lost about 50 lbs. and looked wonderful.
Two kids later, that lost poundage (and then some) has found its way back. Here I go again. Hopefully this blog will help me stay on track.
Yes, the battle I'm talking about is one I'm sure ladies my age know well -- the Battle of the Bulge and the Race against Father Time.
My husband and I have been married ten years. When we returned from our honeymoon and got our photos back, the sight of me in a swimsuit made me cringe -- and so, off to Weight Watchers we went. Both of us. I lost 20 lbs. and became a Lifetime member. My husband lost about 50 lbs. and looked wonderful.
Two kids later, that lost poundage (and then some) has found its way back. Here I go again. Hopefully this blog will help me stay on track.
Blogging for Creativity
I kept a little white diary with a gold lock and key tucked under my mattress as a girl. There, like Anne Frank and so many other little girls, I shared my most personal secrets. Later, in high school, my little diary gave way to a journal. Here, the budding writer in me learned to experiment – to jot down ideas and play with story lines. Suddenly, my journaling wasn’t all about me, but an extension of me. It became my playground, a safe place to explore creatively without fear of having tender ideas being shot down before having a chance to fully develop. It was also a storage area for ideas that I didn’t see a use for at the moment, but might find a use for someday.
My journal became the place where I sketched wedding plans and later jotted down lists and lists of baby names, crossing some out and adding others as my husband and I debated.
Today, much of my journaling has moved from the leather-backed book with ruled pages (I write downhill otherwise) to electronic format. Regardless, I rely on this journaling as a place to get my creative juices flowing. I go there when I’m wrestling with something – coming up with new copy at work or something more personal. I also find myself journaling when I’m blocked. Somehow that seems counterintuitive: why use writing to try to get yourself out of writer’s block? Journaling is a different type of writing than I use in my professional life. In my journal, there are no rules. Okay, good grammar still applies – I was an English teacher once upon a time – but beyond that, anything goes. And best of all, there is no editorial approval process. Nobody sees this copy, or sketch or list of crazy thoughts but me. Sometimes, that’s all it takes to kick myself back into gear.
I wrote an article once, interviewing Kathleen Adams of the Center for Journal Therapy about how she uses journaling to help people bring about change in their lives (Adams, n.d.). Around the same time, JAMA published a study showing how writing about stressful experiences in a journal actually helped to improve the health of some people with asthma and rheumatoid arthritis (Smyth, 1999). I think we all have stress – copy deadlines, mortgage payments, gymnastics and soccer practice. A stressed-out writer has problems producing good copy. Journaling, then, can be used to reduce stress and release creativity.
I’m not alone in this belief. There are books and Web courses specially designed to help boost creativity through journaling. Some offer journaling prompts (“list 10 noteworthy events in the last 24 hours” or “what’s normal?”) while others show journal posts from others, which can be used as a launching point for one’s own creativity.
References
Abundance Blog at Marelisa Online (n.d.). Retrieved from: http://abundance-blog.marelisa-online.com/2009/09/11/119-journal-prompts-for-your-journal-jar/
Adams, K. (n.d.). Center for Journal Therapy. Retrieved from: http://journaltherapy.com/journaltherapy/kathleen-adams/about-center-for-journal-therapy
Creative Magic Academy (n.d.). Retrieved from: http://www.creativemagicacademy.com/creative-journal-magic-turn-your-journal-into-a-magic-wand/
Creative Writing Prompts (n.d.). Retrieved from: http://creativewritingprompts.com/
Smyth, J., Stone, A., Hurewitz, A., and Kaell, A. (1999). Effects of Writing About Stressful Experiences on Symptom Reduction in Patients With Asthma or Rheumatoid Arthritis. JAMA. 281(14):1304-1309. doi:10.1001/jama.281.14.1304
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