First things first. It is finally football season, and nobody does it finer than the SEC! There's not a whole lot that makes me happier than college football. I love college football like a fat kid loves cake. I can say that too, cause I've been the fat kid and I still like cake. :)
I think I mentioned this obsession before, but in case you want to know what I do all day on Saturdays this time of year...
To completely shift gears...
I am emotionally, physically and spiritually worn out. Worn. Out.
But I've never felt better. Or worse. All at the same time. Makes no sense, I know. That's usually how it goes when God decides that He's going to make some changes in you - whether you like it or not. :)
I've been kindly reminded by a sweet friend that I tend to be a bit...well...wordy. So I'm going to cut to the chase and call it a day.
- Consider yourself immeasureably blessed if you are allowed to see the "why" of God's timing. It doesn't often happen that way, and to be able to witness it is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
- Getting to see the "why" is maybe the only way you'll ever understand what grace really looks like and why God has allowed you to go through things that, up to this point, made no sense. There is no limit on how far He will go to make sure we understand it - grace - and how much it affects our ability to LET HIM LOVE US.
- Change hurts. Can't get around it. Change has to hurt, otherwise, it's just temporary.
- Loving God and how God loves me is embarrassingly different than I've limited it to be up until this point.
- Whatever good you've been taught to believe He is...He's better.
- Whatever grace you think He possesses....there's more.
- Whatever love you think He has for anyone...it's devastatingly stronger than any petty limit you've ever put on it.
- Never underestimate the lengths God will go to free you from things you never thought you'd be free of. Don't underestimate who He'll use to help with that, either.
- When you come across those rare friends that love you in spite of yourself - that love you when you are your most unloveable - that are consistent because they know you need that consistency more than you know you do - don't take them for granted. And when God uses them to get to you, tell them so.
- Be that friend to somebody.
That was still pretty wordy, huh? Those of you that know me well know how wordy it COULD have been - so somebody give me my gold star. :)
I'm not wonderful at updating this thing much, so that's what's been happening. Football and a big ol' come to Jesus meeting. Both desperately needed. :)
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Too much honesty is not necessarily a fabulous thing...just sayin..
I'm a really inconsistant blogger, no?
Probably a good thing, given that if I blogged everytime I wanted to and said what I was thinking, I'd be seriously disliked.
And for those of you smarty pants that are thinking so, yes, even more so than normal. Brats. :)
I'm feeling the need to write randomly, so here goes. Use the red x at the top of the page if you need to. :)
* I am not good at awkward. I laugh at awkward, and I enjoy laughing at the expense of other's awkwardness, but I'm not all that good at it myself. Just ask the various people that got hugged as a result of an awkward yesterday. Several of those probably wanted to punch me in the mouth, but it's kinda hard to punch someone in the mouth that just hugged you. Right? Works for me.
* Yeah, I'm not good at awkward.
* Completely unrelated to the above (seriously), my willpower is a whole lot stronger than it used to be. Part of being an adult is the realization and acceptance of the fact that you just can't have everything you want, when you want it. That is an elementary statement, I know. But actively living it is an accomplishment in certain areas. For me, anyway.
* People that turn right suddenly without using their blinker deserve to be rear-ended. If I could afford it, I'd do it. Just for spite.
* I told you this was random
* I have wasted 31 3/4 years of my life resisting the actual, true meaning of grace. I won't waste one minute more.
* I bench-pressed (and I use that term very loosely) 65lbs TWICE the other day and was pretty proud of it. You steroid using strong people laugh it up.
* I also recently made Michael Drager hold a punching bag at the gym while I had an Irish fit. He will hate me for mentioning his name here (he prefers not to admit that he's my friend) and he will also hate me for telling you that he told me afterwards that he wouldn't want to get in a fight with me.
* Talking about Michael makes me automatically think of Julie, his wife, who has absolutely no idea how much she means to me. Never in my life have I known someone that can tell me they love me and tell me how hideous I am acting in the same sentence. And then proceed to stand by me without question, or hesitation, and be proud to be my friend. I only hope someday I can make someone else feel as special as she makes me feel.
* It chaws me just a little bit that she bench pressed 65lbs 3 times as opposed to my two. And for honesty's sake, I screamed and cursed through the second time, and basically had to save my own life, as Michael was ready, willing and able to just let the bar fall on my neck and crush me. Pretty sure he was thinking about how much quieter his life would be.
* Despite my competitive nature, I will concede that Julie Anne Drager could kick my arse at any given time. I live in fear.
* I've talked enough about the Dragers. Good grief. They will think they are special or something.
* I just finished the book "Ragamuffin Gospel". If you haven't read it, please do. It has turned my life upside down.
* I am loved. Never been more sure of it in my life. Loved in the RIGHT way. In SPITE of my flaws, my imperfections and my really annoying tendancies. And there are many. Of all of the aforementioned.
* I'm loved by some people that society had deemed unloveable. People that most of society will walk on the other side of the street to avoid. People that I am unworthy of washing the feet of. People that have valued me when I haven't valued myself. I am actually LOVED by people that spent their recent birthday sleeping under an overpass. People that aren't sure if they are ever going to have a home to call their own. People that are deemed "the least of these", but are actually the greatest in my book.
* I'm going to be ok. And I believe it. I'm a fast-forward through the rough parts kind of girl, and I am learning the beauty of embracing exactly where I am and what I can learn from it. That may sound like a very obvious course of action for most people, but it's a mental and physical decision for me, and I'm going to go ahead and be proud of myself for it.
* I really hate sit-ups. I curse when I have to do them. Sometimes I repent. For the cursing.
* I am beyond humbled, happy, floored by the fact that even after all these years, God has waited patiently by while I've fumbled my way through what a relationship with Him can look like. I can't begin to tell you what freedom I've found in being able to express e.v.e.r.y. thought, emotion, frustration, whatever. He's bigger than any of it. No matter what I throw at Him, even when I sit back and eye Him and ask, "Yeah, so You still love me after THAT?!!) The answer is yes. A million times yes. For the first time in my ENTIRE life, I'm understanding what having The Best Friend means. It's not cheezy, or Sunday school. It's real. It's honest. He made me. He knows I cuss. He knows I fail every single stinking day. And He loves me anyway. Not only does He love me. He chases me. ME! He comes after me relentlessly. I'm blown away by that. The lengths He goes to to convince me of my value are INSANE!
*Despite the above - I'm not going to lie and tell you that I'm on some big spiritual high. I'm not. What I am, is at the end of this day, ready and willing to start a new one. That's not something I felt when I woke up. So I'm going to give credit where credit is due and say that there's something supernatural about making it when you don't think you can, or don't think you want to.
* I still don't like vegetables.
* That's all for now.
*That's a really lame way to end a post.
Probably a good thing, given that if I blogged everytime I wanted to and said what I was thinking, I'd be seriously disliked.
And for those of you smarty pants that are thinking so, yes, even more so than normal. Brats. :)
I'm feeling the need to write randomly, so here goes. Use the red x at the top of the page if you need to. :)
* I am not good at awkward. I laugh at awkward, and I enjoy laughing at the expense of other's awkwardness, but I'm not all that good at it myself. Just ask the various people that got hugged as a result of an awkward yesterday. Several of those probably wanted to punch me in the mouth, but it's kinda hard to punch someone in the mouth that just hugged you. Right? Works for me.
* Yeah, I'm not good at awkward.
* Completely unrelated to the above (seriously), my willpower is a whole lot stronger than it used to be. Part of being an adult is the realization and acceptance of the fact that you just can't have everything you want, when you want it. That is an elementary statement, I know. But actively living it is an accomplishment in certain areas. For me, anyway.
* People that turn right suddenly without using their blinker deserve to be rear-ended. If I could afford it, I'd do it. Just for spite.
* I told you this was random
* I have wasted 31 3/4 years of my life resisting the actual, true meaning of grace. I won't waste one minute more.
* I bench-pressed (and I use that term very loosely) 65lbs TWICE the other day and was pretty proud of it. You steroid using strong people laugh it up.
* I also recently made Michael Drager hold a punching bag at the gym while I had an Irish fit. He will hate me for mentioning his name here (he prefers not to admit that he's my friend) and he will also hate me for telling you that he told me afterwards that he wouldn't want to get in a fight with me.
* Talking about Michael makes me automatically think of Julie, his wife, who has absolutely no idea how much she means to me. Never in my life have I known someone that can tell me they love me and tell me how hideous I am acting in the same sentence. And then proceed to stand by me without question, or hesitation, and be proud to be my friend. I only hope someday I can make someone else feel as special as she makes me feel.
* It chaws me just a little bit that she bench pressed 65lbs 3 times as opposed to my two. And for honesty's sake, I screamed and cursed through the second time, and basically had to save my own life, as Michael was ready, willing and able to just let the bar fall on my neck and crush me. Pretty sure he was thinking about how much quieter his life would be.
* Despite my competitive nature, I will concede that Julie Anne Drager could kick my arse at any given time. I live in fear.
* I've talked enough about the Dragers. Good grief. They will think they are special or something.
* I just finished the book "Ragamuffin Gospel". If you haven't read it, please do. It has turned my life upside down.
* I am loved. Never been more sure of it in my life. Loved in the RIGHT way. In SPITE of my flaws, my imperfections and my really annoying tendancies. And there are many. Of all of the aforementioned.
* I'm loved by some people that society had deemed unloveable. People that most of society will walk on the other side of the street to avoid. People that I am unworthy of washing the feet of. People that have valued me when I haven't valued myself. I am actually LOVED by people that spent their recent birthday sleeping under an overpass. People that aren't sure if they are ever going to have a home to call their own. People that are deemed "the least of these", but are actually the greatest in my book.
* I'm going to be ok. And I believe it. I'm a fast-forward through the rough parts kind of girl, and I am learning the beauty of embracing exactly where I am and what I can learn from it. That may sound like a very obvious course of action for most people, but it's a mental and physical decision for me, and I'm going to go ahead and be proud of myself for it.
* I really hate sit-ups. I curse when I have to do them. Sometimes I repent. For the cursing.
* I am beyond humbled, happy, floored by the fact that even after all these years, God has waited patiently by while I've fumbled my way through what a relationship with Him can look like. I can't begin to tell you what freedom I've found in being able to express e.v.e.r.y. thought, emotion, frustration, whatever. He's bigger than any of it. No matter what I throw at Him, even when I sit back and eye Him and ask, "Yeah, so You still love me after THAT?!!) The answer is yes. A million times yes. For the first time in my ENTIRE life, I'm understanding what having The Best Friend means. It's not cheezy, or Sunday school. It's real. It's honest. He made me. He knows I cuss. He knows I fail every single stinking day. And He loves me anyway. Not only does He love me. He chases me. ME! He comes after me relentlessly. I'm blown away by that. The lengths He goes to to convince me of my value are INSANE!
*Despite the above - I'm not going to lie and tell you that I'm on some big spiritual high. I'm not. What I am, is at the end of this day, ready and willing to start a new one. That's not something I felt when I woke up. So I'm going to give credit where credit is due and say that there's something supernatural about making it when you don't think you can, or don't think you want to.
* I still don't like vegetables.
* That's all for now.
*That's a really lame way to end a post.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Schooled
I got straight up schooled by God this week. Taken out behind the woodshed. Skunked.
And it was awesome. In a terrible way. Makes sense, right? If it doesn't, it will at some point in your life. Trust me. Fasten your seatbelt and put your big kid underwear on, too - cause it.ain't.no.joke.
I'm not sure I even have words to describe this week. (ok, I always have words. i'm wordy. kind of. a lot.)
It kind of went like this:
God, I am hurting so bad, about so many things, all at once.
I know. Do you love Me more?
Of course I love You more, but I need Your comfort and peace right this second. Seriously, God - FIX IT!
I know what you need. And by the way, do you love Me more?
Why aren't You answering me? It's mean! I don't mean that, God. Yes I do. Why are you being silent? I'm finally willing to listen, why aren't You saying anything?!
We'll do this on My time-table, ok skippy? Do you love Me more than what you're hurting about?
Am I going to hell if I admit that I've loved a lot of things more than I've loved You?
Funny how you forget a little thing called OMNICIENCE. Do you want to love Me more than the rest
of it?
Well, that's how I interpret this week in a nutshell. This week that's felt like a lifetime. This week that has simultaneously made me feel alone but not, lost but found, unworthy but chosen.
Today, God gave me a brief moment of joy that came from Him and only Him. It's been a long time since I can say that the joy I've felt came just from Him. That's sad. But it gives me a great hope that He's going to show me what joy CAN be.
I have a long road ahead of me. I doubt I am even a fraction further along after this week, but I know I am turned in the right direction. I know I am loved by the only One who knows what real love is. I know I am infinitely flawed, but redeemable. I know that God loves me enough to allow pain, knowing that I would probably continue down the same road if He didn't.
I'd love to say that I'm riding this big spiritual high as a result of this recent beginning of understanding. I'm not. I'm putting one foot in front of the other and fully expect to end up flat on my face many more times.
But I love Him more. And that's a start.
And it was awesome. In a terrible way. Makes sense, right? If it doesn't, it will at some point in your life. Trust me. Fasten your seatbelt and put your big kid underwear on, too - cause it.ain't.no.joke.
I'm not sure I even have words to describe this week. (ok, I always have words. i'm wordy. kind of. a lot.)
It kind of went like this:
God, I am hurting so bad, about so many things, all at once.
I know. Do you love Me more?
Of course I love You more, but I need Your comfort and peace right this second. Seriously, God - FIX IT!
I know what you need. And by the way, do you love Me more?
Why aren't You answering me? It's mean! I don't mean that, God. Yes I do. Why are you being silent? I'm finally willing to listen, why aren't You saying anything?!
We'll do this on My time-table, ok skippy? Do you love Me more than what you're hurting about?
Am I going to hell if I admit that I've loved a lot of things more than I've loved You?
Funny how you forget a little thing called OMNICIENCE. Do you want to love Me more than the rest
of it?
Well, that's how I interpret this week in a nutshell. This week that's felt like a lifetime. This week that has simultaneously made me feel alone but not, lost but found, unworthy but chosen.
Today, God gave me a brief moment of joy that came from Him and only Him. It's been a long time since I can say that the joy I've felt came just from Him. That's sad. But it gives me a great hope that He's going to show me what joy CAN be.
I have a long road ahead of me. I doubt I am even a fraction further along after this week, but I know I am turned in the right direction. I know I am loved by the only One who knows what real love is. I know I am infinitely flawed, but redeemable. I know that God loves me enough to allow pain, knowing that I would probably continue down the same road if He didn't.
I'd love to say that I'm riding this big spiritual high as a result of this recent beginning of understanding. I'm not. I'm putting one foot in front of the other and fully expect to end up flat on my face many more times.
But I love Him more. And that's a start.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Chosen
God seems to be bringing up the word "choice" a lot with me lately. A lot. I am just a little bit (a lot) stubborn, so I've pushed that still small Voice away because listening would mean I would have to do things Somebody else's way; not something this chick is always (ever) willing to do.
Because I CHOSE not to listen, a lot of my comfort and complacency was yanked out from under me and sent me into a frantic rush to grab onto those things - like pry my cold dead fingers from those things. :)
In the middle of my ginormous hissy fit and self doubt and just plain freaking out, He turned my face and made me look at Him.
He. Chose. Me.
He. Chooses. Me.
Every time.
Every. Single. Time.
He chooses me each and every time that I choose something other than Him. He'll never stop choosing me.
I deserve nothing. He gives me everything anyway. I can't get over that fact, and I don't want to get over it.
I am aware that I am stating the fairly obvious; just can't keep my mouth shut about it. :)
Because I CHOSE not to listen, a lot of my comfort and complacency was yanked out from under me and sent me into a frantic rush to grab onto those things - like pry my cold dead fingers from those things. :)
In the middle of my ginormous hissy fit and self doubt and just plain freaking out, He turned my face and made me look at Him.
He. Chose. Me.
He. Chooses. Me.
Every time.
Every. Single. Time.
He chooses me each and every time that I choose something other than Him. He'll never stop choosing me.
I deserve nothing. He gives me everything anyway. I can't get over that fact, and I don't want to get over it.
I am aware that I am stating the fairly obvious; just can't keep my mouth shut about it. :)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
And....she's back
It's been awhile, no?
Lots and lots of things happening in life. Still trying to get my balance. Some of it I just don't feel right blogging about, so I won't. Those of you that know the situation; your prayers are coveted.
Moving on...I want to share a conversation that I had with my dad the other day. He will probably ground me for making this public - but there are some things that just have to be shared:
I called my dad and asked him "what are you up to?"
Dad: well, actually, I'm sitting on the pot right now
Me: um. ok, well...call me back when you're...done.
Dad: oh, it's ok, I can talk.
Me: No
People. That is funny stuff. Disturbing, but funny.
Ok. I'll try to update this more often. Just in case the three of you that read this miss me.
:)
Lots and lots of things happening in life. Still trying to get my balance. Some of it I just don't feel right blogging about, so I won't. Those of you that know the situation; your prayers are coveted.
Moving on...I want to share a conversation that I had with my dad the other day. He will probably ground me for making this public - but there are some things that just have to be shared:
I called my dad and asked him "what are you up to?"
Dad: well, actually, I'm sitting on the pot right now
Me: um. ok, well...call me back when you're...done.
Dad: oh, it's ok, I can talk.
Me: No
People. That is funny stuff. Disturbing, but funny.
Ok. I'll try to update this more often. Just in case the three of you that read this miss me.
:)
Monday, January 31, 2011
Super Blogger
So...I had such great intentions for keeping up with a blog.
You think I could hire a "ghost blogger"? For real. I will hire you.
We are supposed to get maybe a foot of snow tomorrow. I remember when I used to like snow. Now, I'm old and cranky and wouldn't care if it never snowed again. I'm pretty prepared as far as food is concerned. Priorities, people. I'm never prepared for possibly spending a few days w/o power, with 3 kids, and no way out. I love my children.
And because I was raised right, I made sure they are all wearing clean underwear. You know...in case we all freeze to death, we at least have clean underwear on. Again, priorities.
On a serious note, please remember the folks that don't have a warm place to sleep tonight. There are more people in NWA than you'd think that will struggle to find shelter in this storm. Thank God for your warm bed and roof over your head.
That's an order.
:)
You think I could hire a "ghost blogger"? For real. I will hire you.
We are supposed to get maybe a foot of snow tomorrow. I remember when I used to like snow. Now, I'm old and cranky and wouldn't care if it never snowed again. I'm pretty prepared as far as food is concerned. Priorities, people. I'm never prepared for possibly spending a few days w/o power, with 3 kids, and no way out. I love my children.
And because I was raised right, I made sure they are all wearing clean underwear. You know...in case we all freeze to death, we at least have clean underwear on. Again, priorities.
On a serious note, please remember the folks that don't have a warm place to sleep tonight. There are more people in NWA than you'd think that will struggle to find shelter in this storm. Thank God for your warm bed and roof over your head.
That's an order.
:)
Monday, October 25, 2010
Did you know?
Did you know....
that the car line at school makes me want to pull my hair out. One strand at a time. People. It doesn't take 5 1/2 minutes to tell your kids to have a good day. Open the door and toss em out. Works for mine. :)
that cereal tastes best at night. Fact.
that Crayola cannot throw any product at me that I cannot get out of the fabric on my couches. Or the beds. Seriously, if it can be drawn on in this house, it has been. 452,000 times.
that I HATE to shop, unless it's Hobby Lobby....I could spend all day there. Not sure why. I'm not even crafty. I can knit though. Scarves. Plain ones.
that I want to go to NYC so bad I can't see straight. Except that I'm kind of (a lot) claustrophobic, which might not be conducive with the 8 million people that walk on the sidewalk all at the same time. Touching. Shudder.
that college football makes me happier than food. and I think we all know how happy food makes me.
And that, people, is some Monday random for you.
You're welcome.
that the car line at school makes me want to pull my hair out. One strand at a time. People. It doesn't take 5 1/2 minutes to tell your kids to have a good day. Open the door and toss em out. Works for mine. :)
that cereal tastes best at night. Fact.
that Crayola cannot throw any product at me that I cannot get out of the fabric on my couches. Or the beds. Seriously, if it can be drawn on in this house, it has been. 452,000 times.
that I HATE to shop, unless it's Hobby Lobby....I could spend all day there. Not sure why. I'm not even crafty. I can knit though. Scarves. Plain ones.
that I want to go to NYC so bad I can't see straight. Except that I'm kind of (a lot) claustrophobic, which might not be conducive with the 8 million people that walk on the sidewalk all at the same time. Touching. Shudder.
that college football makes me happier than food. and I think we all know how happy food makes me.
And that, people, is some Monday random for you.
You're welcome.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
stuff
I am not that fabulous at updating this blog that often. I try to remember the funny things said and done in this house, and most days I do well just to remember take my glasses off before I fall asleep.
And let me tell you, it's your loss. These kids pull stunts and one-liners that are truly marketable. I just can't remember them when I try to.
Trying to remember why I started this post.....
Maybe I'll just share an embarrassing moment of my own. Don't deny that sometimes you like to laugh at somebody else's expense. Like that time Julie told the homeless clients on the way in to work one day "It's a great day to be outside!"
Sorry Julie, but that will never cease to make me chortle.
Anyway, onto my own embarrassment. So, about a year or so ago, while at the dentist, I was under the influence of "dentist office happy gas". They have to give it to me because it takes dangerous quantities of lidocaine to numb me. Plus I'm a wuss.
Moving on. I'm laying there, telling the dentist and assistant how nice they are (yes, we all wish I could have happy gas all the time) and this thought pops into my head. "Did I just pass gas?"
Only I don't know if I said it out loud. And that's not exactly something you can casually ask your dentist if you said. And it's not really a question you want the answer to, mkay?
So now I'm paranoid when I have to go to the dentist. I just KNOW after I leave the room they are like "there's the freak that asked" ....well...you get the point.
Why do I admit these things?
And let me tell you, it's your loss. These kids pull stunts and one-liners that are truly marketable. I just can't remember them when I try to.
Trying to remember why I started this post.....
Maybe I'll just share an embarrassing moment of my own. Don't deny that sometimes you like to laugh at somebody else's expense. Like that time Julie told the homeless clients on the way in to work one day "It's a great day to be outside!"
Sorry Julie, but that will never cease to make me chortle.
Anyway, onto my own embarrassment. So, about a year or so ago, while at the dentist, I was under the influence of "dentist office happy gas". They have to give it to me because it takes dangerous quantities of lidocaine to numb me. Plus I'm a wuss.
Moving on. I'm laying there, telling the dentist and assistant how nice they are (yes, we all wish I could have happy gas all the time) and this thought pops into my head. "Did I just pass gas?"
Only I don't know if I said it out loud. And that's not exactly something you can casually ask your dentist if you said. And it's not really a question you want the answer to, mkay?
So now I'm paranoid when I have to go to the dentist. I just KNOW after I leave the room they are like "there's the freak that asked" ....well...you get the point.
Why do I admit these things?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
First day of school
Well, the giddiness has worn off and the effects of early mornings are setting in. Don't mistake that for complaining, I'll take early in exchange for figuring out yet another way to entertain 3 bored children.
I feel like I should explain, lest anybody think I don't adore my children. When my children get bored, some sort of something comes over them and I'm convinced they conspire a thousand different ways they can destroy something in this house. Or on each other.
I'm serious, they don't complain about being bored, they just...do stuff. Like get into the flour jar and dump it in the corner of Davis' bedroom on all his shoes. Why? I mean, it would be great if I had an idea.
It should be noted that Davis refused to speak to me for an hour after dropping the girls off at school. I had to pack a lunch for him because he was feeling left out. So I let him bring it with us in the car and he wanted to bring it in the school while we dropped the other two off. I'm pretty sure he thought I couldn't say no to him staying at school when he had his lunchbox and everything.
I ended up having to take him to Hobby Lobby to look at the Christmas trees before he would forgive me. I've never gotten the stink eye from one kid so many times in one day.
Anyway, first day of school went great and the girls loved it. So did mom.
:)
I feel like I should explain, lest anybody think I don't adore my children. When my children get bored, some sort of something comes over them and I'm convinced they conspire a thousand different ways they can destroy something in this house. Or on each other.
I'm serious, they don't complain about being bored, they just...do stuff. Like get into the flour jar and dump it in the corner of Davis' bedroom on all his shoes. Why? I mean, it would be great if I had an idea.
It should be noted that Davis refused to speak to me for an hour after dropping the girls off at school. I had to pack a lunch for him because he was feeling left out. So I let him bring it with us in the car and he wanted to bring it in the school while we dropped the other two off. I'm pretty sure he thought I couldn't say no to him staying at school when he had his lunchbox and everything.
I ended up having to take him to Hobby Lobby to look at the Christmas trees before he would forgive me. I've never gotten the stink eye from one kid so many times in one day.
Anyway, first day of school went great and the girls loved it. So did mom.
:)
Thursday, August 12, 2010
6 days, 8 hours, 25 min and 57 seconds
until school starts!!!!!! Sweet Moses, I don't know if I can wait that long!!
I love my babies, but they are reminding me about every 5 minutes why I firmly believe teachers need a HUGE raise.
Kennedy will be in 2nd grade; Finley is starting Kindergarten. I. am. old.
Speaking of old, I saw this odd looking freckle on my leg and started to panic about all the time I've spent in the sun and why didn't I listen to my mother when she said to always wear sunscreen and why can't I just be happy to be pasty white and how come I never wear the 100 spf they say I should wear....
it was a bit of dried chocolate ice cream.
I mean, really? I wasted chocolate ice cream?
Le. Sigh.
I love my babies, but they are reminding me about every 5 minutes why I firmly believe teachers need a HUGE raise.
Kennedy will be in 2nd grade; Finley is starting Kindergarten. I. am. old.
Speaking of old, I saw this odd looking freckle on my leg and started to panic about all the time I've spent in the sun and why didn't I listen to my mother when she said to always wear sunscreen and why can't I just be happy to be pasty white and how come I never wear the 100 spf they say I should wear....
it was a bit of dried chocolate ice cream.
I mean, really? I wasted chocolate ice cream?
Le. Sigh.
Monday, July 26, 2010
because everyone should blog on their birthday...
31. Thirty-one. Seems ominously closer to 40 than 30 did.
On a random note, I am loving the power that facebook has to remind even my kindergarten teacher that today is my birthday! My narcissism is b.e.s.i.d.e. itself! I've got to quit using that word, I'm really not narcissistic. Most days, anyway. I just like to be wished happy birthday!
So...a few days ago my dryer decided to go on strike. For no reason at all other than it was just done with me. We think the fix will be a 9 dollar fuse, so the laugh is really on the dryer. Anyway. All of this led me to the laundromat today. I was almost forced to sell a kidney to pay for it. Seriously, laundromat owners are ROLLING in it! I break out in hives just thinking about how much I paid to wash a little laundry.
Cool thing happened there. An older(ish) lady walked in and began to vent her frustration with her current landlord. There was a lot of cursing and gnashing of teeth, but I finally got her to take a breath and was able to share with her details of a project we have at 7 Hills called the Ficasso project. It is a Hud-funded program that assists people who are in danger of losing their housing and provides them with short-term assistance with rent and utility bills.
I was really worried I would offend her by mentioning it to her. But. She hugged me and wept. Literally wept.
She must have told me 42 times that I was a "blessing from God". And then proceeded to punctuate that blessing with several curses. I loved her instantly.
I was reminded again today of how blessed I am to work in a field that I am passionate about. I was also reminded how closely His eye is on the sparrow.
Now I know why the dyer gave up for no apparent reason. There is no such thing as no apparent reason.
On a random note, I am loving the power that facebook has to remind even my kindergarten teacher that today is my birthday! My narcissism is b.e.s.i.d.e. itself! I've got to quit using that word, I'm really not narcissistic. Most days, anyway. I just like to be wished happy birthday!
So...a few days ago my dryer decided to go on strike. For no reason at all other than it was just done with me. We think the fix will be a 9 dollar fuse, so the laugh is really on the dryer. Anyway. All of this led me to the laundromat today. I was almost forced to sell a kidney to pay for it. Seriously, laundromat owners are ROLLING in it! I break out in hives just thinking about how much I paid to wash a little laundry.
Cool thing happened there. An older(ish) lady walked in and began to vent her frustration with her current landlord. There was a lot of cursing and gnashing of teeth, but I finally got her to take a breath and was able to share with her details of a project we have at 7 Hills called the Ficasso project. It is a Hud-funded program that assists people who are in danger of losing their housing and provides them with short-term assistance with rent and utility bills.
I was really worried I would offend her by mentioning it to her. But. She hugged me and wept. Literally wept.
She must have told me 42 times that I was a "blessing from God". And then proceeded to punctuate that blessing with several curses. I loved her instantly.
I was reminded again today of how blessed I am to work in a field that I am passionate about. I was also reminded how closely His eye is on the sparrow.
Now I know why the dyer gave up for no apparent reason. There is no such thing as no apparent reason.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
what a week
VBS was this week. So were about 12 monsoons. Not a great combination. For different reasons than you'd think.
For example, my children turn into wall climbing, destructive little hellions when it rains more than a couple days in a row.
Who am I kidding, it doesn't take rain to turn them to hellions. Pretty sure it's in their dna.
Anywho.
Take my irritation with my own children, then put me in charge of like 12 other children. That I have to be nice to. Cause it's church. Not a pretty picture.
To put one more straw on that already sagging camel's back, I didn't get to go to work this week because of Ryan's work schedule. (not blaming him, btw) People, I need time away from my kids. It keeps me from being committed. And we all know how short a trip crazy is for me anyway.
Man it feels good to complain. I'm pretty decent at it, no?
For example, my children turn into wall climbing, destructive little hellions when it rains more than a couple days in a row.
Who am I kidding, it doesn't take rain to turn them to hellions. Pretty sure it's in their dna.
Anywho.
Take my irritation with my own children, then put me in charge of like 12 other children. That I have to be nice to. Cause it's church. Not a pretty picture.
To put one more straw on that already sagging camel's back, I didn't get to go to work this week because of Ryan's work schedule. (not blaming him, btw) People, I need time away from my kids. It keeps me from being committed. And we all know how short a trip crazy is for me anyway.
Man it feels good to complain. I'm pretty decent at it, no?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
A few more confessions
Today, when the kids were fighting for the 287th time, I did nothing to stop it. And by fighting, I mean punching, kicking, the works. Mostly it was Finley. You gotta watch out for that one, she will cut you.
I let them run around the house naked because it just wasn't worth the fight. It was, however, worth it when a neighbor came to the door and all three of them ran up to say hi. Still naked.
I let them watch A LOT more t.v. than they usually do. Now I'm hooked on icarly. Seriously, I added it to the dvr. The shame.
There are still a few hours left in this day, I'm sure I will add a couple more "mother of the year" moments before it's over.
Or maybe I'll just break out the "sleepy vitamins".
I let them run around the house naked because it just wasn't worth the fight. It was, however, worth it when a neighbor came to the door and all three of them ran up to say hi. Still naked.
I let them watch A LOT more t.v. than they usually do. Now I'm hooked on icarly. Seriously, I added it to the dvr. The shame.
There are still a few hours left in this day, I'm sure I will add a couple more "mother of the year" moments before it's over.
Or maybe I'll just break out the "sleepy vitamins".
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
bugs, and why they should all die
Honestly, I don't care what part in the eco-system the bug, any bug, plays. I just want it dead. Except for lady bugs, because who kills those?
I am happiest outdoors, don't mind getting dirty at all, and most of my hobbies are outdoor ones. I am only a girlie girl on two occasions: shoes and bugs.
I can brave a lot of things, but when a bug starts buzzing around me, I immediately turn into a hysterical, hissy fit throwing hot mess.
Now you know.
I am happiest outdoors, don't mind getting dirty at all, and most of my hobbies are outdoor ones. I am only a girlie girl on two occasions: shoes and bugs.
I can brave a lot of things, but when a bug starts buzzing around me, I immediately turn into a hysterical, hissy fit throwing hot mess.
Now you know.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
something different
My sister and her husband have been in China for the last 6 weeks, specifically the area that was devastated by a massive earthquake. I'm not sure I can mention exactly where they are, they always have to be so careful, but I wanted to share a post with you that they made last week. They refer to each other by their Tibetan names.
Anyway, I wish this post could be shared with the world at large. I am so humbled by it.
Tonight I am feeling maybe one million things. Here’s the deal. I need to brush my teeth and all before I go to bed but there is only one bathroom in the house we’re staying at and our friend is taking a shower. So here I am, 12:49 am, mind reeling, teeth fuzzy, thinking and pondering and so so tired but still aware. So until the bathroom is free, here I am with you.
We leave in 4 days. FOUR DAYS. The sound of it makes me sick in the pit of my stomach. Oh if only I were enough like my Lord that a day was a thousand years to me… I just feel unfinished here. I have a strong suspicion that much of that has to do with the fact that I didn’t make it down to the earthquake city… and therefore did not really get to say goodbye to the friends I lost and the city I lost in the way I think I had hoped to. But strongly thematic of this trip has been a request from the Beloved one to die every day to my own poorly scrawled plans and accept with joy the thing He gives me to do for that day. I cannot judge His plan as unfair, incorrect, or insufficient. He gave me a lot of love and a lot of people to give it to in this city and oh, I just HAVE to be okay in that.
I’m just… how can you explain love? I have wanted a million times to explain perfectly to my family why it is that I come here. Why it is I can leave them for months on end even though when I do it feels like I am being torn limb from limb and I miss them like crazy while I’m gone and so on and so forth, if I were them I would wonder why on earth I do this. Sometimes even while I’m here I wonder why I do this. Why make life so much harder? Well… I have tried now for years to condense this into a charming anecdote but am hereto unsuccessful. I will tell you instead that:
It’s sitting here in the dark, chilly mountain night with my toes close to the breezy window and the tiny smells of incense and butter on the air and the little floating song from somebody else’s window.
It’s laughing hysterically with a total stranger taxi driver who slugs Dondrup and says “Hey did you watch that American soccer game last night?” and makes fun of how the Americans played. It’s getting to know a little of his life for 9 minutes, learning he has a son that’s 10 years old, learning he was born in this city, learning where his child attends school.
It’s sitting for hours in a living room with 30 nomads I can hardly communicate with and playing language games and absolutely rolling on the floor with laughter when one of them hollers out to my husband (in English) “You are handsome boy!”
It’s drinking the 8th cup of tea in a house where the family can’t afford new clothes to put on their own backs. It’s their offer to feed you dinner. It’s their attempt to give you a small trinket that is really something special to them, just because they consider you their friend.
It’s dressing up in their clothes just exactly the way they would wear them and being told you look absolutely beautiful instead of being scoffed at.
It’s seeing a teenage monk on a bicycle chasing a younger monk who is running down the sidewalk, both of them laughing so hard they threaten to crash, red robes billowing behind them, their humanity laid bare like their tiny muscled arms.
It’s holding a sweet baby that’s almost the same age as my new niece at home and thinking, how different, how very very different their lives will be.
It’s spending hours and days at the hospital with a beautiful precious girl who, short of a miracle, will never live a normal life, will never learn to read, will maybe never leave her home, because of something that’s quite treatable where I come from.
It’s seeing my Aji do something so thoughtful and sweet for a Chinese woman he doesn’t even know. It’s seeing the look of revelation on the Chinese woman’s face and the micro-scale reconciliation between the two ethnic groups there in that moment in that noodle shop.
It’s acquiring a friend and a dear brother and meeting his family. It’s spending time in their home and drinking their tea. It’s climbing mountains together. It’s taking long bus trips together and playing Uno to pass the time. It’s living in the same house. It’s cooking his meals. It’s getting a call on April 14th that his house collapsed in the earthquake and he is gone. It’s grieving deeply. It’s throwing up from sadness. It’s coming back here and deciding to honor his death by loving the people he loved. It’s doing good in his memory.
It’s the other life I live over here. These things are a fraction… a FRACTION… of the million ways that this place has my heart. I’ve seen, and I’m responsible. And I’m ruined. And I wouldn’t want to be rebuilt. I am ruined for life that is not life at all. And I am in love to the hilt with life that is real, true, sweating, bleeding, breathing, painstaking, breathtaking, REAL LIFE.
The bathroom’s been free for a long time now. But the can, it is opened, and the worms, they are everywhere.
Anyway, I wish this post could be shared with the world at large. I am so humbled by it.
Tonight I am feeling maybe one million things. Here’s the deal. I need to brush my teeth and all before I go to bed but there is only one bathroom in the house we’re staying at and our friend is taking a shower. So here I am, 12:49 am, mind reeling, teeth fuzzy, thinking and pondering and so so tired but still aware. So until the bathroom is free, here I am with you.
We leave in 4 days. FOUR DAYS. The sound of it makes me sick in the pit of my stomach. Oh if only I were enough like my Lord that a day was a thousand years to me… I just feel unfinished here. I have a strong suspicion that much of that has to do with the fact that I didn’t make it down to the earthquake city… and therefore did not really get to say goodbye to the friends I lost and the city I lost in the way I think I had hoped to. But strongly thematic of this trip has been a request from the Beloved one to die every day to my own poorly scrawled plans and accept with joy the thing He gives me to do for that day. I cannot judge His plan as unfair, incorrect, or insufficient. He gave me a lot of love and a lot of people to give it to in this city and oh, I just HAVE to be okay in that.
I’m just… how can you explain love? I have wanted a million times to explain perfectly to my family why it is that I come here. Why it is I can leave them for months on end even though when I do it feels like I am being torn limb from limb and I miss them like crazy while I’m gone and so on and so forth, if I were them I would wonder why on earth I do this. Sometimes even while I’m here I wonder why I do this. Why make life so much harder? Well… I have tried now for years to condense this into a charming anecdote but am hereto unsuccessful. I will tell you instead that:
It’s sitting here in the dark, chilly mountain night with my toes close to the breezy window and the tiny smells of incense and butter on the air and the little floating song from somebody else’s window.
It’s laughing hysterically with a total stranger taxi driver who slugs Dondrup and says “Hey did you watch that American soccer game last night?” and makes fun of how the Americans played. It’s getting to know a little of his life for 9 minutes, learning he has a son that’s 10 years old, learning he was born in this city, learning where his child attends school.
It’s sitting for hours in a living room with 30 nomads I can hardly communicate with and playing language games and absolutely rolling on the floor with laughter when one of them hollers out to my husband (in English) “You are handsome boy!”
It’s drinking the 8th cup of tea in a house where the family can’t afford new clothes to put on their own backs. It’s their offer to feed you dinner. It’s their attempt to give you a small trinket that is really something special to them, just because they consider you their friend.
It’s dressing up in their clothes just exactly the way they would wear them and being told you look absolutely beautiful instead of being scoffed at.
It’s seeing a teenage monk on a bicycle chasing a younger monk who is running down the sidewalk, both of them laughing so hard they threaten to crash, red robes billowing behind them, their humanity laid bare like their tiny muscled arms.
It’s holding a sweet baby that’s almost the same age as my new niece at home and thinking, how different, how very very different their lives will be.
It’s spending hours and days at the hospital with a beautiful precious girl who, short of a miracle, will never live a normal life, will never learn to read, will maybe never leave her home, because of something that’s quite treatable where I come from.
It’s seeing my Aji do something so thoughtful and sweet for a Chinese woman he doesn’t even know. It’s seeing the look of revelation on the Chinese woman’s face and the micro-scale reconciliation between the two ethnic groups there in that moment in that noodle shop.
It’s acquiring a friend and a dear brother and meeting his family. It’s spending time in their home and drinking their tea. It’s climbing mountains together. It’s taking long bus trips together and playing Uno to pass the time. It’s living in the same house. It’s cooking his meals. It’s getting a call on April 14th that his house collapsed in the earthquake and he is gone. It’s grieving deeply. It’s throwing up from sadness. It’s coming back here and deciding to honor his death by loving the people he loved. It’s doing good in his memory.
It’s the other life I live over here. These things are a fraction… a FRACTION… of the million ways that this place has my heart. I’ve seen, and I’m responsible. And I’m ruined. And I wouldn’t want to be rebuilt. I am ruined for life that is not life at all. And I am in love to the hilt with life that is real, true, sweating, bleeding, breathing, painstaking, breathtaking, REAL LIFE.
The bathroom’s been free for a long time now. But the can, it is opened, and the worms, they are everywhere.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Vegas, Baby!
Las Vegas. What can I say? It certainly lives up to the hype. I saw so much this weekend, I haven't been able to process it all.
Maybe 2 1/2 minutes after we walked into the hotel lobby to check in, I saw this lady that looked to be AT LEAST in her 70's or so. Probably 6'5'', not skinny, with a purple dress that barely covered what desperately needed to be covered, and hooker shoes. I know, I'm not supposed to say hooker. But there is no other way to describe those shoes.
It was pointed out to me that since she looked like a linebacker, walked like a linebacker...she was probably not a she.
People, I don't know these things. I was just horrified that somebody's grandma was working the lobby at Bally's. Not sure how much better I feel about it being somebody's grandpa. shudder.
Welcome to Vegas, right?
And that was just the first 5 minutes.
The rest will have to be told in person, it just can't be described on a blog. Plus, there are at least 3 of you that haven't forgiven me for saying hooker.
I have to give a big shout out to both sets of grandparents for watching the kids while we were gone. Wouldn't you know that 2 out of the 3 were sick while we were gone. It was puke fest 2010 at Mimi and Pappy's house.
I want to feel bad, but people, that's an entire weekend of puke I avoided.
Maybe 2 1/2 minutes after we walked into the hotel lobby to check in, I saw this lady that looked to be AT LEAST in her 70's or so. Probably 6'5'', not skinny, with a purple dress that barely covered what desperately needed to be covered, and hooker shoes. I know, I'm not supposed to say hooker. But there is no other way to describe those shoes.
It was pointed out to me that since she looked like a linebacker, walked like a linebacker...she was probably not a she.
People, I don't know these things. I was just horrified that somebody's grandma was working the lobby at Bally's. Not sure how much better I feel about it being somebody's grandpa. shudder.
Welcome to Vegas, right?
And that was just the first 5 minutes.
The rest will have to be told in person, it just can't be described on a blog. Plus, there are at least 3 of you that haven't forgiven me for saying hooker.
I have to give a big shout out to both sets of grandparents for watching the kids while we were gone. Wouldn't you know that 2 out of the 3 were sick while we were gone. It was puke fest 2010 at Mimi and Pappy's house.
I want to feel bad, but people, that's an entire weekend of puke I avoided.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Random
For those of you that don't know, I work at 7 Hills Homeless Shelter.
Today, I was talking to one of the clients and he told me to come close so he could tell me something (he was sitting at a table, I was standing). Anywho, I was prepared for anything, and he tells me my zipper is down.
It was fabulous.
Another client just looked at me when I walked out of the office, shook his head and said "Child. That hair."
It's the humidity people. (think Monica in that Friend's episode)
Anyway, this is not a too hilarious blog post, but it is about people that I have come to adore and am honored to serve, so I wanted to share it with you.
And that is all.
Today, I was talking to one of the clients and he told me to come close so he could tell me something (he was sitting at a table, I was standing). Anywho, I was prepared for anything, and he tells me my zipper is down.
It was fabulous.
Another client just looked at me when I walked out of the office, shook his head and said "Child. That hair."
It's the humidity people. (think Monica in that Friend's episode)
Anyway, this is not a too hilarious blog post, but it is about people that I have come to adore and am honored to serve, so I wanted to share it with you.
And that is all.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Oh yes. He did.
I can't believe I am going to make this public, especially since I may never be able to show my face in Springdale Library again...
The kids and I were at the library this week. We were all in the children's section when, from across the room, I see "the look" come over the potty trainee's face. I rushed over and asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom; he wouldn't reply - just kept pulling on the back of his shorts.
So, I took him to the bathroom and found...evidence...that he had an accident.
Here's the thing...
There should have been more evidence. It just so happens that he refused to wear underwear that morning, so he just had his shorts on. And I kept getting a whiff of something in the children's section.
So we left. Hurriedly. I mean, I don't KNOW that he left a little extra something there, but I really didn't WANT to know if he did. There is only so much humiliation this gal can take.
My apologies to the sweet lady that was working in the children's section that day. My son likes to hide things.
Wouldn't it be great if just one day didn't revolve around my son's bodily functions? Hello!
The kids and I were at the library this week. We were all in the children's section when, from across the room, I see "the look" come over the potty trainee's face. I rushed over and asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom; he wouldn't reply - just kept pulling on the back of his shorts.
So, I took him to the bathroom and found...evidence...that he had an accident.
Here's the thing...
There should have been more evidence. It just so happens that he refused to wear underwear that morning, so he just had his shorts on. And I kept getting a whiff of something in the children's section.
So we left. Hurriedly. I mean, I don't KNOW that he left a little extra something there, but I really didn't WANT to know if he did. There is only so much humiliation this gal can take.
My apologies to the sweet lady that was working in the children's section that day. My son likes to hide things.
Wouldn't it be great if just one day didn't revolve around my son's bodily functions? Hello!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I'm the mother to "that" kid
I am the mother to "that" kid...
The one who, upon the first day of no pull-ups, decides to park it underneath his art easel in his bedroom and...well...poo.
And because that wasn't enough by itself, proceeds to "paint" the sides of the easel with said poo.
Somebody please tell me their kid played with their poo and turned out ok.
Now that I think about it, Finley spread it on her arms and legs a couple times.
At what point does this start reflecting poorly on me?
The one who, upon the first day of no pull-ups, decides to park it underneath his art easel in his bedroom and...well...poo.
And because that wasn't enough by itself, proceeds to "paint" the sides of the easel with said poo.
Somebody please tell me their kid played with their poo and turned out ok.
Now that I think about it, Finley spread it on her arms and legs a couple times.
At what point does this start reflecting poorly on me?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Confessions
I'm pretty sure my husband doesn't read this blog, so I'll take a chance here.
Also, it's Sunday - I'm not Catholic or anything - but any Christian worth their salt will admit that we need confessionals in every denomination. Especially the Baptist ones. Just sayin'
Back to the confessions:
I have, on more than one occasion, let my son stay in that dirty diaper just an extra 3 or 4 minutes until dad could get home. At which point I tell the little stinker to go give daddy a big hug, and then feign surprise and horror that he has produced yet another doody. It usually goes along the lines of "What?! He's stinky? He must have JUST done it!"
What can I say? It's lame, and it works, so there you go.
Here's another one. Yesterday in the car my aforementioned son called his sister a butt munch. Butt. Munch. COMPLETELY inappropriate, I know. And yes, I bit back the smile and told him that we don't say such things. To which he replied, "Daddy taught me". All of which I should have been perturbed about, except that his comedic timing was impeccable, so I went ahead and felt a little proud of him.
One more thing and then I have to go to church before the guilt swallows me whole:
I really do know how to plug the dvr into the t.v., work the remote, clean up the dog poo and wait for it...change a tire.
I just don't want to, ok? And as long as the husband is buying that I'm too pitiful and dainty (choke) to do any of the above, what am I going to do, ruin it for him?
Negative.
So...about 4 Hail Mary's and I'm good, right?
Also, it's Sunday - I'm not Catholic or anything - but any Christian worth their salt will admit that we need confessionals in every denomination. Especially the Baptist ones. Just sayin'
Back to the confessions:
I have, on more than one occasion, let my son stay in that dirty diaper just an extra 3 or 4 minutes until dad could get home. At which point I tell the little stinker to go give daddy a big hug, and then feign surprise and horror that he has produced yet another doody. It usually goes along the lines of "What?! He's stinky? He must have JUST done it!"
What can I say? It's lame, and it works, so there you go.
Here's another one. Yesterday in the car my aforementioned son called his sister a butt munch. Butt. Munch. COMPLETELY inappropriate, I know. And yes, I bit back the smile and told him that we don't say such things. To which he replied, "Daddy taught me". All of which I should have been perturbed about, except that his comedic timing was impeccable, so I went ahead and felt a little proud of him.
One more thing and then I have to go to church before the guilt swallows me whole:
I really do know how to plug the dvr into the t.v., work the remote, clean up the dog poo and wait for it...change a tire.
I just don't want to, ok? And as long as the husband is buying that I'm too pitiful and dainty (choke) to do any of the above, what am I going to do, ruin it for him?
Negative.
So...about 4 Hail Mary's and I'm good, right?
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