CHALLENGE.......POP goes the bubble.

I have a bubble.

No, not the cute, float-in-the-air bubble. AND, I don't care how old you are- soap bubbles are still amazing.


Not a bubble gum bubble, (although I have always wished I could blow really good bubble gum bubbles like the cool girls in 7th grade).

Not a snot bubble. My daughter can blow snot bubbles that are very impressive. And, very disgusting.

Not a spit bubble- I like those...but only when they come out of my 4-month-old. My 4-year-old can't figure out why it isn't quite as cute when he does it. He had a major drool issue well past 3-years-old, I have seen plenty of his spit- it just isn't cute once they speak in full sentences.

So, back to my bubble.

I have a personal space bubble..... a really, really big one. Those who know me well, know that part of my own brand of craziness includes no hugs, no touchy-feely stuff. Not even my parents get hugs from me. I honestly cannot tell you when the last time I hugged my father was...... maybe as a young child? I don't know.
In college, if someone would sit on the same couch as me, I would get up and move to the other couch. I don't think I am weird...ok, yes I do.... but not because of "the bubble." Well....maybe a little because of my bubble.....but, that would have to be a whole other blog.

Anyhow....yes, there is a point to this too-much-information that I am giving you.
Once I became a mother, my bubble popped......sorta. My kids are inside the bubble. My husband can enter the bubble zone too. He would probably argue that statement, but since he doesn't ever read this, he can't argue. So, just assume that I am always right about everything in my marriage. Because, I am.
Other than that though- I am a crazy basket case when people enter my "zone." I am polite and usually give the half hug: other person's arms go out, I slyly turn to the side for the lean. Even at this though, I am awkward and weird. My brain reverts back to the brace faced, hair slightly mulleted, need to buy a better bra, teen from my past all over again.


The challenge for the week:

Pop your bubble.

Even if you aren't, (which you probably aren't), as crazy as me, I am sure you have some sort of bubble.
Maybe it is too small. Maybe it is too big. Maybe it is just right...if so, then I say you suffer from need-a-bubble-itis. If you suffer from this, lets diagnose you with one of the following bubbles:

My house must be perfectly clean bubble, (I definitely don't have this bubble and my husband definitely wouldn't argue that.)

Maybe a:
Toys must be put back in the exact location bubble.

How about:
Germs are everywhere bubble.

Oooohhh... I like this one:
The, My kids touched a dog and now must be infested with fleas bubble. (I might...maybe....just slightly also suffer from this one.)

Anyhow- basically, whatever you are a little crazy about- whatever your crazy bubble is made up of, relax about it this week. Me, for example: When that all-too-touchy-see-him-and-walk-briskly-the-other-way, (mustn't run in holy places), guy at church puts his arm around my shoulders, I will try not to feel the need to shudder. That was mean, I know, but he is a little creepy. When I see my sister next, I will hug her back. My dad and brothers? Hmmm. Well, I just wouldn't be me without a little of my crazy still, so, that will have to be sometime in the future....the far future. It is okay though- because they would be just as weirded out as me.

Time to get hopping...I mean popping.