tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90082265781155526852012-02-20T16:42:16.758-06:00Our experiences are similar. It's just that I'm willing to tell on myself.Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.comBlogger461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-19312557056488993822012-02-19T15:06:00.003-06:002012-02-19T15:06:55.063-06:00

Twenty-two years ago, just after midnight, I felt the first contraction.  Eight and a half hours later, some of them pretty scary, our first child was born.  He broke my tailbone that day, and it was painful, but the joy of seeing that beautiful boy and hearing his strong and healthy cry far outweighed any amount of pain I experienced. That boy had a laugh and a smile that brightened the

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-75115663344748143292012-01-10T18:20:00.000-06:002012-01-10T18:20:02.414-06:00

I've written this post about a hundred times, sometimes making it as far as 3 sentences in, sometimes giving up after temporarily forgetting my password and writing nothing at all.  I've been afraid and overwhelmed.  Afraid that my words would be inadequate, sound trite, not convey what I really want to say.  Overwhelmed that some days I cannot string together a coherent thought, much less a

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-47483619900722915802011-08-01T04:00:00.002-05:002011-09-03T01:13:50.613-05:00

Note: This is the sixth in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family (one son in the Army; one joining the Marines). How many Military Mom posts will there be? No idea. But more than six. Once again, the Question Box on my desk is overflowing, this time with questions concerning the military thing going on in our family.  I will attempt to answer some of these

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-17702275708982627642011-07-21T01:58:00.003-05:002011-07-21T11:11:00.567-05:00

FYI:  This is a blog post I wrote back in February but never actually posted it.  (We were more than just a bit busy back then.)  As I was doing some clean up today, I ran across this and decided to go ahead and throw it on the blog.  Plus, it's just plain fun to look at that much snow right now when it's been so hot here. Blizzard 2011 is in the books.  Don't get me wrong, there is still

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-26630510892927691962011-06-03T03:20:00.001-05:002011-06-03T03:22:58.616-05:00

If you've never given your car a name, you may not understand this at all. She was likely never beautiful.  It's not that outward beauty is the most important thing, because it truly is not.  But by the time she came to live at our house, she wasn't even remotely pretty.  Regardless, two of my sons have loved her with a commitment that bodes well for future marriage prospects.  Rhonda, the 1995

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-72077513295945932432011-04-07T09:40:00.000-05:002011-04-07T09:40:10.967-05:00

Note: This is the sixh in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family (one son in the Army; one joining the Marines). How many Military Mom posts will there be? No idea. But more than six. I've been trying for several days to put into words our experience of watching our soldier leave.  I can't.  I decided to show pictures instead. The day before he left. 

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-87982644479134720022011-03-20T03:13:00.000-05:002011-03-20T03:13:45.127-05:00

Note: This is the fifth in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family (one son in the Army; one joining the Marines). How many Military Mom posts will there be? No idea. But more than five. Dear Spencer, So this is what two o'clock in the morning feels like on the day you leave for a year.  In four hours, I'll be waking you up.  In 6 hours, we will be headed

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-9865698607113414452011-03-03T09:50:00.000-06:002011-03-03T09:50:00.120-06:00

Note: This is the fourth is a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family (one son in the Army; one joining the Marines).  How many Military Mom posts will there be?  No idea.  But more than four. My soldier has been away doing some training related to his upcoming deployment.  Following is a text conversation we had just a few days before his return.  But first,

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-25230399026842495152011-01-14T10:45:00.000-06:002011-01-14T10:45:10.583-06:00

I love Christmas: the decorations, the weather, the food, the people, the music. I love it all.  This year, I was very intentional about making memories to hold onto until the next Christmas we are all together (date unknown).  For those who don't know or aren't related to us, these pictures are meaningless.  To me, they are priceless. One of my favorite traditions is our family ornament.  Every

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-39331050656528774662010-12-21T09:10:00.005-06:002010-12-21T09:10:00.779-06:00

'Twas a week before Christmas, and all through our house, The boys were on iTunes, choosing music with a mouse.And Dale in his red shirt and I with some treats,Were headed to a party to hang with our peeps. When out on the front porch the doorbell did ring,And the dogs started barking, and growling, and things."We won't let them in here, You will come to no harm."Thus said Duke and Liberty, our 

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-87707254080197754432010-12-12T21:17:00.000-06:002010-12-14T21:15:56.343-06:00

NOTE:  This is third in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family. How many military mom posts will there be?  No clue.  But more than three. Tie a Yellow Ribbon Around the Whole Weekend I had a lot of work to do over the weekend.  Dale had a lot of work to do over the weekend.  Dale's company holiday party took place this weekend.  My coffee/support group held

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-53080503429436952292010-12-07T22:47:00.000-06:002010-12-07T22:47:00.737-06:00

I am a gifted shopper. I have my favorite grocery store.  It is not the store closest to me.  In fact, I drive right past one store (owned by the same company, no less) to get to my favorite store.  (This drives Dale crazy.)  I pull into one of the quite spacious parking slots.  I grab a cart. It doesn't matter which one--none of them have that irritating wheel that wants to turn the wrong

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-81528979571444946292010-11-30T11:40:00.010-06:002010-11-30T11:40:00.414-06:00

Last winter we had a power outage.  It wasn't storm related.  It must have been a grid thing, because the electricity was on for the houses across the street from us but not for the houses behind us.  It only lasted about an hour and a half, so it really wasn't all that inconvenient.  But I learned a lot in those 90 minutes. First, our parents were serious when they told us to keep emergency

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-40191936785269281172010-11-23T18:00:00.003-06:002010-11-23T23:58:44.159-06:00

Jesus told a few parables of people searching for what was lost: a sheep, a coin, a son. The lessons are about how God passionately pursues us, and how significant we are to Him. Recent events have made those lessons more clear to me. It's that special time of year when we find ourselves spending our weekends doing outside chores.  Yes, we enjoyed the shade of the trees through the summer, but

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-91746133515412478972010-10-05T12:57:00.000-05:002010-10-05T12:57:01.047-05:00

NOTE:  This is second in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family. How many military mom posts will there be?  No clue.  But more than two.  Don't call them part-time soldiers, weekend warriors, pseudo-military, or any other "funny" nickname you've heard.  Just don't.  There is no such thing as part-time military.  They are not "just the National Guard" or "

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-65835082277507289932010-09-07T14:56:00.000-05:002010-09-07T14:56:04.365-05:00

While Dale is traveling in Kenya and having a mighty fine time, the boys and I are holding down the homefront.  In response to the numerous questions we have received, a decision was made to respond to those questions here.  Questions have been selected randomly from the question box located on my desk. Q.  Tell everyone how your handsome sons are taking care of you while Dad is gone. A.  First,

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-74036001311423126342010-08-25T17:25:00.000-05:002010-08-25T17:25:31.430-05:00

I've been humming my favorite song all day.  What a Wonderful World was written for me, I just know it.  It was certainly written for a day like today--beautiful blue sky, nice temperature, low humidity (a gift in August in the midwest).  And I just found out one of the writers of my favorite song, George David Weiss, passed away.  I think the ability to write songs is such a gift. I am not a

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-25052188633956131452010-08-10T00:01:00.001-05:002010-08-10T00:01:00.480-05:00

I am the president of the Dale Duncan Fan Club.  Not an easy task.  The guy has lots of fans. My dad, for example, loved Dale more than he loved me.  He thought Dale was incredible.  In fact, if Dale would have professed a love of country music, my dad would have deemed him perfect.  What Dad did believe, however, was that Dale is perfect for me.  My dad was right. My mom, who met Dale before we

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-40345288306198037972010-07-22T00:18:00.001-05:002010-07-22T00:18:00.696-05:00

NOTE:  This is the first in a series of sporadic posts about this military thing happening in our family.  How many Military Mom posts will there be?  No clue.  But more than one. Perhaps I shouldn't have decorated my den in Americana red, white, and blue.  Perhaps I should have hidden my tears when the Star Spangled Banner was played.  Perhaps I never should have watched any war movies with my

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-37603458059956827652010-06-27T01:03:00.001-05:002010-06-27T01:09:23.359-05:00

I have an office. Don't think glass buildings and a view of the skyline through professionally cleaned windows.  Think more along the lines of I can look out  and see when the recycling truck is here, as long as I have first cleaned the dogs' nose prints off the window.  It's not fancy.  It's not even pretty.  But it is MINE.  And I find myself really conflicted that I can be so over the moon

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-69527811551449087502010-06-16T22:55:00.000-05:002010-06-16T22:55:21.227-05:00

Recently a little red-haired girl had a baby. I remember so clearly the day the little red-haired girl was born.  Well, honestly, she didn't have a lot of hair, maybe three or four, and they stood straight up on the top of her head.  Dale and I were engaged when his childhood/high school friends had that little girl, and I distinctly remember dropping by the hospital that evening.  Shea Lynn was

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-17994696270331559862010-04-27T10:36:00.002-05:002010-04-27T10:39:05.319-05:00

Well, hello big piles of laundry.  I am assuming you are all here as a consequence of the boys cleaning their rooms this weekend.  I haven't seen some of you in quite awhile.  And a few of you are new.  So, here's a little orientation brought to you by the Laundry Queen. If I put you into a specific pile, I want you to stay there.  If you happen to be a white sock, for example, please don't inch

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-74455626789520459462010-04-16T22:13:00.003-05:002010-04-18T11:29:43.002-05:00

Technology and I are not the best of friends. For example, I blew up a computer one time.  Not with explosives--merely with my presence.  Perhaps it preferred self-destruction over even one more day of me blaming it for losing my documents or for not doing what I told it to do.  But, in the spirit of total honesty, I must tell you that I talk to my computer and believe that what I tell it to do

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-69667292211562295422010-04-03T23:28:00.006-05:002010-04-04T08:12:15.432-05:00

I'm not certain, but I think I've never anticipated Spring more than I did this year.  I really try to not complain too much about the weather for 2 reasons: 1.  I cannot do anything about it. (There.  I've admitted it.  I do not control everything. But don't tell my kids.) 2.  The weather is always worse somewhere else.  This year, however, I broke my own no whining policy.  This year, winter

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-71956833520772517802010-02-19T01:00:00.004-06:002010-02-19T01:32:03.291-06:00

My firstborn child is 20 today.  Yikes! When this kid was less than one week old, he could lift his head off my shoulder and look around. In the literary world, this is called foreshadowing. In the parenting world, this should have been a clue to his parents that he would be one strong-willed child. He ALWAYS wanted to do things his way, which has made for some very interesting parenting moments

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-87965115292794968492010-01-26T11:02:00.004-06:002010-01-26T17:47:15.473-06:00

Today my youngest baby turns 13. Not even possible. In May of 1996, Dale and I were in Orlando for his work conference.  I was flipping through TV channels when a program caught my attention.  Being interviewed was a woman who had suffered several miscarriages but was later able to carry a baby to full term.  I paid attention to the details of her story with tears streaming down my face.  Just a

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-80727023014319487742010-01-12T13:21:00.002-06:002010-01-12T13:25:21.341-06:00

I'm not making any New Year's resolutions this year. Not even one. Don't get me wrong.  I'm far from perfect.  There are about 43 billion things about me that need to change.  Or that I would like to change.  Or, perhaps, that others would like to change  about me.  Sigh.  And it's not that I lack resolve.  One of my favorite writers says that every morning she "wakes up one determined woman." 

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-63108210379295243232009-12-23T09:44:00.001-06:002010-01-13T01:33:44.486-06:00

This one will not make you cry. One of the cool things about living in a major metropolitan area is the shopping.  And there are few things I like better than a shopping coup.  (A coup is a brilliant, highly successful act. A shopping coup [pronounced coo] is when you get a killer deal on something, especially if it's a Fossil purse or Born shoes).  Before the days of Internet deals, we shopped

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-43520641446165787132009-12-10T21:10:00.001-06:002009-12-10T21:12:31.072-06:00

"You're going to do what I say this weekend." That's what my husband said to me on a Friday evening when he arrived home from work.  I laughed. Out loud.  He is not normally the bossy, demanding type, and I am rarely (if ever) the follow blindly type, so it was quite humorous (and uncharacteristic) for him to use those words. The first thing he "made" me do was to sit with him and watch White

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-2476825386894275742009-12-02T10:23:00.001-06:002009-12-02T19:31:53.963-06:00

I know what Heaven smells like. With all the computer experts I have in my life, you'd think one of them could come up with a way for us to experience the aromas of each other's lives.  We can see each other's pictures.  We can watch each other's videos.  We can even send virtual smiles :-) and virtual hugs {{ }}.  But, so far, there is no way you can experience what I experience when I walk

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-39949136535469319812009-11-23T10:56:00.001-06:002009-11-23T21:12:44.159-06:00

We call it Chainsaw Therapy.  It doesn't matter what is bothering you, after a few minutes cutting up tree limbs, your perspective changes.  Anger subsides.  Worry decreases.  And the sawdust that gets in your eyes is a small price to pay for the opportunity to play with such danger. A recent Saturday began with a lawn full of leaves.  It took 3 passes over the lawn to mulch and bag the leaves.

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-91944166321837457912009-11-10T02:11:00.001-06:002009-11-18T19:06:44.078-06:00

If you were to drive down my street at the height of summer, you would be amazed at the canopy of shade provided by the numerous, very large trees on both sides of the street.  I've never counted them, nor do I know all the different kinds of trees represented, but they really are a welcome respite from the hot summer sun.  When the sun takes a more autumnal path, the trees seem to have an

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-58464340986310495732009-10-25T22:03:00.000-05:002009-10-28T14:38:07.394-05:00

Patti was the first friend I had when we made the move to Casper, Wyoming  just before my 6th grade year.  She was tall in 6th grade, like 5'1" or 5'2".  That's funny now, because she didn't get much taller than that after 6th grade.  But she was sweet and friendly and took me under her wing to show me the ropes of a new school and the way things worked.  She even kept me out of trouble one time

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-23410654584213513782009-10-21T11:29:00.001-05:002009-11-18T18:33:42.863-06:00

If you just look at the sign on the door, you might miss the beauty of the rest of the dwelling. Some friends have just moved into a beautiful new house.  Physically, it's beautiful.  But, honestly, we live in an area where many houses are beautiful.  What makes this house special is that it is a home.  It is a representation of the love of the family that dwells there.  It is a reminder that

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-47713683883924587672009-10-18T19:38:00.001-05:002009-11-18T19:22:50.576-06:00

Cube 3 ruled.  It was like having 7 sisters.  We laughed and cried about boys, jobs, classes, and life.  We each had 7 other closets to rummage through to find just the right sweater vest or polo to wear.  There was almost always someone available to join you to grab something to eat or to join you on a trip to the beach.  And we played "Friends are Friends Forever" about half a million times.

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-45074933843260941312009-10-05T07:56:00.001-05:002009-11-18T19:16:54.296-06:00

Today is my dad's birthday, and I miss him. I am thankful for the many wonderful years we had with him.  I am thankful for the things he taught me, the life he provided for our family, the way he loved his children (and their spouses and children), and especially the way he loved my mom.  But I miss him. I miss being able to call to ask him what it means when a car makes this noise, what tool

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-53193773245313821372009-09-26T21:30:00.001-05:002009-11-18T18:19:47.398-06:00

My family does not believe I possess the required skills to drive in reverse. Perhaps they are correct. For vacation one year, we met Dale's parents at a lake. It was one of our favorite places to RV camp, fish, and ride bikes. After a wonderful week of good fun and great food (Dale's mom is an AMAZING cook), we loaded the 5 bikes on the bike rack and pointed our minivan in the direction of

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-5711647740869904232009-09-22T07:34:00.001-05:002009-11-18T19:29:14.367-06:00

We have a very well-stocked toolbox.  I say "we" because it is in our garage, but my husband is the boss of our tools.  It's not a gender role/stereotype thing.  He likes the tools, he knows how to use the tools, and I have a tendency to make whatever needed to be fixed more in need of fixing when I use the tools. For example, I cannot use the air compressor to inflate tires.  I am incapable of

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-51192695066410185942009-09-19T05:56:00.001-05:002009-11-18T19:44:14.932-06:00

Dale bought me a ring, roses, a stuffed elephant (so I would never forget his love) and took me to a lake at sunset to propose.  I bought him a Boston album (yes, an album) and some socks. In many ways, I think our marriage has been about just such disparity.  His family is quiet; mine, not so much.  Dale has always been the bread winner; I have mostly stayed home.  I am the one who jettisoned

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-82748358766742553722009-09-17T07:46:00.000-05:002009-09-17T08:14:52.646-05:00

Today one of my babies turns 17. Seventeen. That's close to grown up. When did that happen? Was it while I was still recovering from the actual birthing of that 9 pound 4 ounce bundle of joy?  Was it during one of the MANY trips we've made to the ER to have some part of his head or face sewn up?  Was it during that day we watched the anesthesia kick in before the doctors stuck a camera down his

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-90839446401751925262009-09-13T21:07:00.001-05:002009-11-18T20:02:50.308-06:00

This just in: My boys are growing up too quickly.  I have a vague awareness of this most times. At other times, like this weekend, it hits me full force. There's pressure to make a big dent in reorganizing the basement quickly due to a furniture situation (a different story for a different day). So there really isn't a lot of time to open every box, unfold every piece of clothing, read every

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-91153596560553048632009-09-11T09:07:00.000-05:002009-09-11T09:09:39.471-05:00

My friend is a flight attendant for American Airlines. I knew she was not flying on September 11, 2001, partly because I did not have her kids that day (I watched them on days she flew), and partly because I was on the phone with her, each of us watching the news coverage in absolute shock. We were watching when that 2nd plane hit. We were watching when people were jumping out of the building. We

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-51375278682923542582009-09-09T16:29:00.001-05:002009-11-18T19:53:04.430-06:00

I love sunsets.  LOVE them, especially on the water. When we are on the left coast, we drop everything and head to the beach to watch the sunset. My mom lives within walking distance of a great beach. I think there's something kind of magical about living like that, where you can hear and smell the ocean when you go outside and walk down to it whenever you want to. Sigh... It's not that I don't

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-17352078445528078952009-09-08T15:39:00.000-05:002009-09-08T15:39:20.917-05:00

The Top 10 Things I Learned about Motherhood by Being a Cheerleader:10.  The ability to yell loudly is a God-given gift. 9.   Working really hard at perfecting the splits will only get you the ability to do the splits. 8.   The short, skinny girls can fly through the air because the taller, bigger girls are the foundation of the world.7.   Boys smell bad.6.   Knowing how to execute a takedown is

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-39186696292352938942009-09-06T20:43:00.001-05:002009-11-18T20:06:48.071-06:00

I cannot draw, as is documented here. At one time, the game Pictionary was a family favorite, and the stress I felt when it was my turn to draw was overwhelming. I cannot even draw stick people to look like stick people. And I am surrounded by artists. My husband does beautiful watercolors. My sons are all able to draw, especially cars (their passion). My mother has a lifelong love affair with

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9008226578115552685.post-73738536487723431332009-09-03T20:53:00.000-05:002009-09-03T20:53:04.385-05:00

Still unsure.  Still curious.  Still deciding if I really want to do this. It feels like a commitment.  It feels like opening the blinds on a window of our lives and letting people peer in.  And, to be honest, it feels a little bit like I'm saying, "Hey! Dig me."  And I so don't want this to be a Dig Me. (Dig Me: It means thinking pretty highly of oneself.) I don't really know what will happen

Megan Moore Duncanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975337765363961493noreply@blogger.com4