Making sense of horror

My computer has been acting up. I've tried, unsuccessfully, to upload pictures three different days. Then I just gave up as I've been busy hugging my kids and trying to process the elementary school shooting in Connecticut. I found myself crying. A lot. I cry as much as the average girl, but I could hardly talk to friends without bubbling over with emotion. Kissing and praying over my kids as they slept, like I do every night, became a sob fest. I have tried to shield my kids from the media...I'm unable to process these killings, how could I possibly expect them to make sense of it? I saw an article floating around the facebook world..."I know what 6 looks like", and I avoided it. I was too emotional. Then, last night a friend emailed me the article, so I read it. This Mama hit the nail on the head. I am just heart broken over this incident, and seeing my kids, especially my 6 year old first grader, makes me realize much more fully what these parents have lost. I know that every single day I am to thank the Lord for loaning my kids to me for another day...that they aren't mine, but His. And that is good. And comforting. But at the same time, it's terrifying and uncontrollable. Grab a kleenex (and I have no idea where this originated to give credit...so here it is...from the internet, somewhere.).

***

 I am not really a major cryer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I cry–when it’s appropriate to do so. Funerals. The occasional wedding if it’s particularly beautiful or meaningful. Schindler’s List. Things that normal people cry at. I am definitely not an over-cryer. I don’t cry at commercials or cheesy Hallmark movies or at the drop of a hat. And, when I do cry, there’s usually a beginning and an end. I cry. I get it out. I stop. Normal crying.

However, since I first started to understand the magnitude of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday morning, I have cried a lot. I cried when I heard the terrible news. I cried when I went to pick my son up early from school. I cried when I told my husband what had happened. I cried when I talked to my girlfriends about it. I cried at church when we prayed for each victim by name. Off and on for going on three days now, I have cried. And this is despite going out of my way to not watch anything about it on TV or read too much about it online. I’m actively trying to avoid it, but I still find myself crying more than usual.

I mentioned this to a friend last night and she said that she couldn’t seem to stop crying either. When I asked her why she thought that was, her answer was, for me, a revelation. She said, “I think it’s because we know what six looks like. We see it every day . . . in all its glory.” And she was right. Because, you see, this friend and I both have a six year old child. I, a six year old son. She, a six year old daughter. Both are in first grade. Both, I imagine, so heart-breakingly similar to those twenty kids who were so brutally and senselessly killed on Friday morning. And we do, indeed, know what six looks like. We do see it every day. In all its glory. We see the good, the bad, and the ugly. The beautiful and the infuriating. It’s in our face. We live it and breathe it.

We know what six looks like. We know what it smells like. How it can go from the fresh scent of shampoo and soap to the musky aroma of “dirty child” in what seems like minutes. How it resists getting in the bathtub . . . and then resists getting out half an hour later. How sweet its hair and skin and clean jammies smell when it sits on your lap and asks you to read it a bedtime story. We know the unmistakeable fragrance of the occasional accident in the middle of the night caused by too much milk and no last-thing-before-bed visit to the toilet.

We know what six looks like. We know what it sounds like. How it cries and whines. How it sings and laughs. How clever it is and how much more clever it grows every day. How it sounds out words on signs as we drive past in the car and how happy it is when it gets them right. How annoying it sounds when it teases its little sister and how kind it sounds when it soothes her when she falls down and hurts herself. We know how lovely the words “Mommy” and “Daddy” and “I Love You” sound in its six-year-old voice.

We know what six looks like. We know how it tastes. How picky it is. How it thinks chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese are gourmet foods. How much it loves candy and cookies. How it tolerates broccoli and carrots. How it absolutely abhors brussels sprouts. How it thinks french fries are a vegetable. How it thinks chocolate milk was created by God himself. How it thinks pizza is its own food group. We know that six is happy when it finds “I love you!” written on a napkin in its lunch box at school.

We know what six looks like. We know how it feels. How big it’s getting. How fast it outgrows its clothes and how it’s no longer a baby, but not quite yet a big kid. We know the weight of six in our arms. How we can barely carry it anymore, but try anyway because we can’t quite bring ourselves to accept the truth. We know how easily six gets its feelings hurt if someone says just the wrong thing or if this friend or that one doesn’t want to play with it or it gets in trouble at school. We know the velvety softness of six’s skin. We know the still-silkiness of its hair.

Yes, we know what six looks like. We know six’s gap-toothed smile and its gangly arms and legs. We see how it jumps and dances. How it twirls and runs. We know how funny six is. How absolutely charming it can be. We know six’s terrible jokes. We know how obsessed it is with “Minecraft.” We know its crooked “S” and its backwards “3.” We see how it teeters on the cusp of the world of books and all the joys of reading, but how it’s not quite ready to fall in yet. We see how six can’t decide if it wants us to stand beside it or not. We watch it take two steps towards independence and one step back towards us every day. We know how sturdy and strong six is . . . and yet how frail and fragile.

We know what six looks like. How beautiful it is. How precious. How brightly it shines with promise. How much it looks towards the future . . . toward seven, eight, nine, . . . How much it looks like forever.

We know what six looks like and can only in our worst nightmares imagine how devastating its loss in this senseless and evil way would be. We can only barely imagine the wreckage and the despair and the utter hopelessness that would be left if six were brutally and suddenly taken from us. We know we couldn’t bear life without it.

Yes, we know what six looks like. And we know that, to us–like it must be for those other mothers and fathers in Connecticut–six is the whole world.

Perspective

I was bemoaning getting out of bed to go downstairs to go pack the boys' lunch. Chris reminded me that in a few years there won't ever be a need to pack a lunch again. Perspective.

I was driving home from picking up the boys and Mark was screaming hysterically and I found myself longing for the day that he is old enough to just chill in his carseat. Then I remembered I will never have a little one who needs me and wants to be held so desperately again. Perspective.

I was frustrated with Jack...for having his hands in everything, for typing while I was typing, for having an accident, for asking me "why" so.many.times...I put him down, out of my lap and his sweet little voice said, "Sawry Mommy. I want to smuggle wit you Mommy". Pangs of guilt. This is the two year old season. Perspective.

I spent another day in the car (drove carpool 4 different times that day) and was resenting my new life lived in my car with no time between carpool and nursing (another thing I feel like I'm always doing) to string 30 minutes together to actually accomplish anything. Then the feelings of guilt for running an errand in the 30 minute block of time that Mark could actually get a nap in his bed. And guilt for schlepping him everywhere. And guilt for his schedule constantly being in flux. And guilt that I just want him to stop crying and be a laid back baby, which he just is not.

But then I remembered, I'm living the dream. My dream, my goal in life, to be a stay at home mom to the four children I had always prayed to the Lord to give me. I signed on for carpool, and soccer practice and cheerleading camp and packing lunches and crying babies and snuggling (and even manipulative) two year olds. I signed on for poopy pants, spilled milk, toys always under foot. I signed on for dirt tracked in, muddy clothes and bloody noses. I prayed for sweet moments of joy--praying with my kids, seeing their hearts, dancing to Disney songs, playing in the rain, making cookies...

Perspective. Above all else, I am blessed beyond words. Now I just need to pray my heart to fully "get" what my head already knows.

Further thoughts on the caboose

So, today is my ultrasound. I've woken with the ever-so-lovely pregnancy insomnia around 5 every morning this week. Basically, I've had lots of uninterrupted time to think about the baby. :) As we are in the Christmas season and I've heard it read often, I've really been struck yet again by the sentence, "Mary took all of these things and pondered them in her heart." Not that I am comparing myself to Mary, but I doubt a woman in history has not felt more closely aligned to her than while pregnant during Christmas. I have been very introspective as I think about this coming baby. All of my life my desire was to marry, have babies and be a mommy. That's it...never wanted to be president or a doctor. Just a mom. And while I know that the job will never end, I am seeing the day fast approaching that my role will shift from supreme comforter...Mommy...to Mom. I think I'm a little fearful of the change.

Chris thinks it's a boy. Anna-Kate thinks it's a boy but is still hoping for a girl. Ryan thinks it's a boy. Jack still can't talk. And me? I just don't have a strong feeling. There are certain things that make me think it's a girl...dreams, cravings I've had. Then the realist in me says it's a boy...I look like I did when carrying the boys and I've had 2 boys since my girl. Statistically speaking, it's a boy. So, today will be a surprise for me because with all of the other three I had zero doubts in my mind what it was. When polling friends, I get more guesses of girl. Made me wonder if I'm starting to explode all over, until my friend Emily told me that she forgot I was pregnant until she was sitting next to me and noticed my belly. God bless her! Ha. :)

As you probably know, we would love to have a girl. I've always said I wanted two boys and two girls (though, to be fair, my plan was to have boy, girl, girl, boy...so clearly, my planning didn't align too closely to the Lords' plan!). And then there is my sweet Anna-Kate and her desperate desire for a sister. To be honest though, before there ever was a number four we began praying for the Lord to prepare us for a fourth child...not another girl. This baby is loved, prayed for, wanted and will be the perfect book end to our family. :) So, all that to say, we would also love to have another little boy.

I'm feeling all melodramatic at the moment. I think a little part of me will be sad no matter what the sonographer tells us. Whatever gender the Lord has blessed us with, I will never again have the other. A whole genders worth of baby things will be sold or given away, never to be used and loved by me or my family. I am so one that deeply connects music, smells, visuals (ie, clothes) with memories. It's like the end of an era, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't saddened by the thought. Soon we will know our family. The full picture of God's plan for the people in it.

I guess I can then spend even more time praying for my future kids-in-law.

So, we're off.

Quotes

We've been keeping busy with life, soccer and the amazing weather! We've had a lot of picnics outside, pulled the bounce house out and spent many evening at the soccer fields. :) Ryan is actually really good. In fact, he scored 4 goals at his first game! (my competitive side is thrilled to have a competitive child to watch. It just wasn't that way last year watching Anna-Kate). Anyhoo. I have officially forgotten my camera to both practices and the game. Shame on me!

Anyway, I read a quote that has really resonated with me:
Cherish these moments, tomorrow they will be memories.

So I've been trying to remember that, amidst the tantrums, homework and laundry. I know a day will come that I will long for today. :) So, that's where I've been. I have some catch up posts so stay tuned!

Laundry

This is my random thought process. No deep thinking, no cute kid phrases. Just contemplatin' as I fold my 3rd load of laundry for the day...

If you are a mother {and possibly if you aren't, though I don't remember having a strong feeling on laundry pre-kid} you understand that laundry is constant. In fact, it's more than constant. Even during that magical 37 seconds when the washer and drier are both empty and all of the clothes are actually ironed and put away, you and your family is still wearing clothes {I presume}. So really, it is lit-ruly (man, can't wait for Parks and Rec to come back!) never ending.

I can't express the deep satisfaction I get when I go to sleep with a vacuumed laundry room floor. My reasons are three-fold. 1.) If it's been vacuumed, it's visible. This leads quickly to 2.) There is no laundry waiting for me in the morning (unless I got a wild hair to change the kids' sheets for no apparent reason which means that Janelle's law is in effect. {Janelle's law being: "If you change a child's sheets, within 24 hours they will puke or have an accident."} 3.) If it's been vacuumed, it stands to reason that the rest of my wood floors are also vacuumed because really, who just vacuums their laundry room and nothing else?

And, that's it. :)

How do I KNOW?

{And here I go being all transparent again. And long-winded, very long-winded.}

I think one of the hardest things is trying to figure out what the right decision is. When we're younger, the decisions are relatively harmless, (where to go to college) but the stakes get higher as we age.

I had my heart broken years ago, so when I decided to start dating Chris, it was with much prayer and after years of friendship. For those who don't know, Chris broke up with me for a time (not a "we're on a break" but "we're done, forever" kinda thing). I was devastated. Prior to the breakup I just knew I was going to marry him. When we broke up I started questioning how I would ever really know anything again. I had so strongly felt the Lord leading me into this relationship that I was blindsided by the break up and left reeling. That 10 months that we were broken up ended up being a really sweet time in my life. I threw myself into my school work, {college} invested in relationships with my dearest girlfriends, went on a few dates, but mostly I desperately sought the face of God. I was floundering and that year the Lord showed me that He loves me and will always care for me and my needs. Clearly, we got back together, and our relationship is that much stronger and sweeter because of the time apart. God grew us so much as individuals and showed us His will so very clearly. It was as if I appreciated Chris even more knowing that I almost didn't get to marry him and knew how much I would be missing out on.

As a Christian it is often something I pray, "Your will be done". When the rubber meets the road, however, I am a type-A who likes to be in control of life (both mine and those around me). It's been a while since we've gone through something where we have struggled so intensely to find the will of the Lord. We have had the opportunity to, once again, earnestly seek the will of the Lord and be tested as we have waited for Him to show us His plan for our family.

Last October began the investigation into kindergarten. Honestly, I had heard parents talking about how stressful it was and I thought it was a little crazy to let yourself get so stressed over "silly little kindergarten". For the past few years we had planned to send Anna-Kate to the kindergarten at her current preschool; it is half-day (which I love) and cheap (and I also love that). I felt that to do my due diligence, I should look around at other schools for a 1st grade plan. Leigh-Ann and I toured school after school (after school...) and each one felt not quite right, including her current school. I just didn't have a peace in my heart. Homeschooling was also an option for us, and something I have been praying about for quite some time, but I still continued to search. I had heard wonderful things about a school that is just a few miles from our house, but honestly didn't think we could afford it. I found out they actually offer money to families they think are a good fit for their school. Chris and I prayed about it and priced it out before we stepped foot on campus (assuming it would be beautiful and wonderful and not wanting to do that to ourselves if it couldn't work for us). We prayed about it and decided to take a tour. I left in tears, it was perfect, everything I had (very specifically) prayed for, and more. I felt the Lord pulling my heart to entrust our precious girl to this school for kindergarten. We went through the entire application process, (which included IQ testing, a long application for us and an observation/interview of Anna-Kate) financial aid process, and eagerly awaited the day the letter was to arrive. We prayed, a lot, and truly felt like we were on the path that the Lord had for our family. I truly wasn't worried about getting in, despite the fact that there were 55 applicants trying to get in to the one new class they were opening, I was concerned with the money situation, but ultimately felt like we were following the Lords will and that it would be taken care of.

I opened the acceptance letter and read that we would not be getting any money. I think I stopped breathing, knowing that we just couldn't do it with two more kids and me staying at home. I was crushed, and once again I cried out to the Lord, "why, Lord? Why would you let me go through this process and get my hopes up? Why did you let me believe this was Your will for us? How will I know Your will? We so strongly felt You as we made this decision, why?". I spent the Saturday (day I received the paperwork) and Sunday physically sick. I was worried about the future, I felt so not connected to the Lord, like I had missed something big time.

It turns out that we had made a mistake. I called and talked with the school, honestly expecting nothing--it just felt better to know there was a mistake (can't explain that one, it just did). The lady told me she was sorry about the mistake and that she would look at it, but that they had already over promised money and there just wasn't any money left. The same lady called back the next morning and said that she had spoken to the "higher powers" and they had some money to offer our family.

Upon reflection, it was a similar set of emotions as what I had experienced after the break up. The Lord again revealed Himself to us--showed us His love and provision. We just had to wait. I will tell you, the waiting made the end result a little bit sweeter. I dropped off our contract and had such a joyful peace in my heart. I am so thankful for a Father who looks after me and continually shows Himself, and His love, to His children.

Thoughts on the weekend

California pictures coming...along with my parents' pictures of their time with the kids. However, I've been thinking. {So, here goes stream of consciousness.}

Chris and I visited a winery/vinyards on Saturday. We ran in to so many couples who went wine tasting most weekends. Don't get me wrong, we had a lovely time, but I left a little sad. As we talked, Chris pointed out that how you spend "free" or weekend time, is where your passion is. We had a lovely, casual brunch with multiple refills of coffee, walked around Carmel and then saw a couple of wineries. But by early afternoon we were wishing we had an earlier flight home since we missed our kids and felt like we were missing out on our family day (that we typically jealously guard).

How often is the way we spend our time used in such a way that it truly counts? I am not arguing that time away with a spouse, visiting a winery, yard work or any of the other ways we spend our Saturdays are bad, but it made us both more aware of fleeting time and that relationships are the most important thing--they won't wait.

That's all. Pictures soon. :)

Cross-stitching

I have a lot of {possibly random, unrelated} thoughts in my head these days.

For starters, I really should look into cross stitching a pillow with the words, "I am the Mommy. I have to win. I will be consistent" onto a pillow for a little daily {err, minutely} reminder.

It's funny {in the ironic, not 'haha' kinda way} how God provides such immediate opportunities to try out what He teaches. We have always told our children that obedience is "first time, quickly and with a joyful heart" but felt that we really needed to drive home the quickly aspect. So for the last week we've really been harping on the fact that if all three components of obedience are not there, it is in effect, disobedience--and disciplining as such {Did I mention Chris was out of town this week. Ya, it's been a long week. Lucky dog also missed out on the good times of putting eye drops in Ryans' eyes. Oh itissogoodtoseeyouFriday!}. Anyway, we were talking with our friends last night about our renewed vigor in this arena and, wouldn't you know it, Ryan gave me the opportunity to follow through this very morning. Let's just say, it took me 45 minutes to put Ryan's clothes on and get to school. An endeavor that generally takes about 12-15 total {Did I mention I was exhausted?}. I welcome all prayers for patience and grace {for me} and a break through to my precious strong willed sons' heart. As I drove Anna-Kate to school, I was seething. We were late, I was forced to do the preschool "walk of shame" (walk her in after missing carpool) and I was physically, emotionally and Spiritually depleted. I was angry with Ryan. In fact, I told him to sit in his carseat and think about the discipline he had coming to him {because I couldn't discipline him in love at that moment}. I didn't want to listen to the traffic report so I put Anna-Kate's church Easter {choir} music in. I heard these lyrics and just cried.

"...Cause when we see You we find strength to face the day, in Your presence all our fears are washed away... Hosanna! You are the God who saves us...worthy of all our praises..."

I need the Lords daily renewing mercies, grace and strength to face each day. Motherhood simply makes me more tangibly aware of that fact.

***

Last week the women leadership in our church sponsored a dinner for the ladies to bring unbelieving friends that we have been praying for. It was a great dinner, fun fellowship and a fantastic speaker. The speaker shared her testimony and as she was sharing the first Bible verse she ever heard to a silent room, the wait staff turned up rap music (in the kitchen in the back) so loud that I literally couldn't hear a word she was saying. A few minutes later she was sharing a different Scripture and someones phone rang, sending almost everyone diving for their purses to turn it off. Finally, moments before she prayed for those who didn't yet know and love the Lord a girl left {and all eyes followed her} and she *happened* to walk back in during the crux of the prayer. It was jaw dropping, the spiritual warfare that took place that night. Clearly, the Lord was moving and doing big things! Very exciting!

Even though...I'm thankful

Even though today would mark hospital trip number four (this winter) for Ryan, {his croup/breathing issues} I am so thankful for the steroids that make him better (enough to stay home). (*Bonus, Jack was deemed to have "the best lungs I've heard in weeks" by our pediatrician--yippee!)

Even though I've done upwards of 20 loads of laundry in the last week and a half (2 different people with pink eye, a kid with fever, and 2 who threw up) I am so thankful that I have an awesome washing machine and drier that make my life easier.

Even though there is constantly something in my house that {desperately} needs cleaning, I am so thankful that we have a house and for a daughter who loves to help, often asking what chores she can do to help our family.

Even though my back hurts, I am so thankful for a husband who has bent over backwards to help me and lighten my load.

Even though my days are often long, tedious and filled with "being consistent" I am beyond blessed and thankful for the children that take my time, that I can stay home with them and that Chris absolutely supports our decision for me to do so.

How do you spell love?

As I drove to church this morning I heard a mother of five speaking on the radio about time management. Naturally, my ears perked up, as I feel like I'm barely holding it together with three at times. Her (abbreviated) thoughts:

I cannot be all things to all people. All I know is that I am the only wife my husband has and I need to be all the wife he needs and that I am the only mother my kids have and I need to fully be their mother. What fits besides that is icing. What doesn't fit I pray through and help those needing pieces of me to find someone else to serve instead.

Seems to be a running theme to anyone speaking about time management, especially where young children are concerned. Learning to say "no" and realizing that life consists of seasons. What can be a wonderful thing (be it personally or for the Kingdom) simply might not be good at all for me in my current season. Another nugget I took from a blog I read said, "little children spell love like this, T-I-M-E." Oh, how true that is!

Be still my heart

I love Valentines Day.

There are many naysayers (cough, cough SCROOGES) out there who tout no need for the love holiday. While it's true that I love Chris every day of the year, I enjoy a day set aside to specifically demonstrate love. And let's be honest, shall we, who doesn't love getting fresh flowers? I mean really.

So Chris had to go out of town for the day on a business trip and left well before we woke up. I was a little bummed, but we went out for a special dinner last weekend and I was fully prepared for it. Imagine my surprise when I came downstairs this morning with Anna-Kate and walked into the kitchen and saw flowers. Everywhere. There were 3 bunches of tulips (my absolute fav. Well, and roses and gerber daisies, but whatever.) in a vase. Beyond that, he had gotten a mylar balloon for each of the kids and a little chocolate for the big two. Anna-Kate had hot pink roses (I may have been jealous at the color--they were so pretty!) at her place, and there were a bouquet of red roses at my place at the table with chili cheese fritos proped up next to them. (A long standing joke...they are my favorite chips but they are absolutely horrible for you and they stink--well, they smell like chili. Anyway Chris hates the smell of them and it became his way of showing his love to me to buy me a bag every year on various holidays. Ironic that this year he bought them when he was out of town.).

I was blown away by Chris' thoughtfulness to make today special. I was also blown away by the priority he is placing on setting a strong male leader/husband role to our children. A few weeks ago when he took Anna-Kate to the daddy daughter date at Chick-fil-a, he went and bought her a rose and then came and knocked on the door to "pick her up". It is precious to me to watch him and I am so very blessed. Anna-Kate lovingly replaced her (on it's last leg) rose with her new ones in her room. I have flowers in most rooms of my house and I am just very happy. And, it smells lovely.

On a sadder note, I took a good many pictures today, but my computer is messed up. So, tomorrow. :) For now, happy Valentines Day!

A cup o' and a pretty boy?

Have you ever thought that an adult going for coffee in the morning is much akin to a baby crying for a bottle? I thought about that in my haze this morning.

I woke up and immediately wanted coffee (if it were socially acceptable, I might even cry for someone to bring me hot coffee. Alas, it isn't). I stood by the pot watching it brew then happily poured my cup and took a lovely first sip. I took a deep breath and was ready for the day to begin.

In contrast, Jack woke up and (I can only imagine decided he was simply desperate for a bottle) cried for his bottle. He lunged for the bottle as it was being filled, heated and mixed and then eagerly grabbed it and drank it all, burped and gave me a big grin.

Not so different.

***

Jack and I went out to lunch today (he is such a lovely lunch companion. As long as I give him a pile of food he is happy and giggly to anyone in his presence). Anyway. A woman, who incidently was a (99%) "Pat", (ironic, no?) walked up to my table and said, "she seems to be enjoying this as much as you are". I looked around to see who she was talking about, all the while wondering why she was confiding this random bit of thought process to me, then realized I was the only woman in the place. I'm sure I gave her a puzzled look as it dawned on me that she was referring to Jack, but didn't correct her as I didn't want her to feel stupid (such a kind soul I am). I mean really, he had on a red and white long-all with a helicopter appliqued on it. He had on his blue jacket, blue paci clip and blue paci. And his blue diaper bag with the name "Jack" was on the table. I've been told he is a beautiful baby, but really. I brushed it off and forgot about it, but as we were leaving she looked up and said, "you ladies have a lovely afternoon". Blood boiling. The 2 men I was sitting near looked at her like she was crazy, for which I was thankful. Urgh.

A laundry moment

So after a week away on the cruise the laundry was piled a mile high, to say the least. Literally 7 loads later, I sat back to survey my efforts. Then, Jack got sick.

It wasn't pretty, I changed his sheets about 3 times a day for a couple of days. We were just coming out of that when Ryan started up with the both ends action...at least I have very considerate boys. With one exception, it has been contained to only sheets and themselves (no couch, bumper, pillows, or me).

So, just as I was about to relish the all clean, folded, put away laundry for the second crazy round since being out of town, Ryan got sick. So I'll say, yet again, laundry is an evil vicious cycle. No matter how on top of it you are, there is never caught up and nothing is ever clean at the same time (unless you make everyone run around naked some day, but, at least in Jack's case, that wouldn't help the overall clean effect I would be going for.)

Gonna go start another load.

The creed

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail is supposed to keep the mail from coming, right? Well, that is certainly not the case here! As mail doesn't come on Sundays, this is now day 4 of no mail for me. I feel so out of the loop. My junk mail isn't gonna read itself, you see.

Trying to stifle my irritation at having put on shoes and ice skated, walked gracefully barely made it to the mailbox to see nothing, I got curious (OK, bored, it's been a slow week) and looked into the "postal carriers motto". (Here's the history geek coming out in me--you are forewarned.) The original saying was actually "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds" and was said by (the Greek historian) Herodotus. The USPO has no official motto and the reason the afore mentioned is generally identified with the USPO is that in 1896-97 when the New York City General Post Office was being designed, Mitchell Kendal, of the architectural firm in charge, McKim, Mead and White, suggested engraving Herodotus' saying on the outside of the building. From that time on the saying has been associated with U.S. postal carriers.*

So, there you have it. You might not be able to send your kids off to school today, but now we can all say that we learned something new today. :) (and, you're welcome, Leigh-Ann. See, history is fun! LOL.)

Should also add, I was highly annoyed to not receive my mail today until a friend told me she saw our mail lady unable to get up the hill. I guess I'll give her an "e" for effort.

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Postal_Service_creed
*http://www.infoplease.com/askeds/post-office-motto.html

Perfection

Today is day two of the "ice-apocalypse 2011" of the south. We still have yet to venture beyond our driveway (and that was yesterday, but whatev's).

We had friends drop by (out for a walk--really??) today and other than that we drank a lot of coffee, I cleaned like a mad woman, Chris took a shovel to the driveway (to get the 1"+ ice off) then got some work in, and the kids played together. I'd call it a lovely winter day. So thankful I didn't have to get out in the ice.

Any-hoo. Chris grilled some steaks for us, we found boxes worth of crap and toys under the kids' beds cleaned the kids rooms, had our family devotion time and then I decided to indulge my sweet tooth.

Mmmm, perfection.



In my observation, there are many types of marshmallow eaters out there. The "catch it on fire so I can eat it in 7 seconds flat" type. The "I don't want any brown on it, just soft in the middle" type. And then there are those who demand perfection from their marshmallow eating experience {like moi'}. I like my marshmallows dark brown at the edges and just browned across, but completely melted throughout. I can't stand it when they catch on fire, (because they are charred and not melted in the middle.) I'm dedicated to achieving the perfect roasted marshmallow.

What kind of a marshmallow toaster are you?

Year in review

2010 was a great year and we are eagerly looking forward to 2011 to discover the blessings God has in store for us this year!

Highlights of 2010 include the birth of Jack, our {for now} annual trip to Disney with my parents, and really enjoying our family. Ryan {finally...I really wondered if I would ever be able to say that!} became potty trained, I participated in my first Christmas market, {so fun!} my mom quit her job, we've firmly instituted jammie Monday, and we've left Kaiser insurance {sadly, this makes me happy enough to make the list!}. **Edited to add, Chris' new job. Not sure quite how I overlooked this, but it was certainly a time of stress as he sought something new, was an incredible answer to prayer, and has been such a good thing for him personally and professionally (and, obviously, for our family as well!).

Lest we forget the hard parts, 2010 also brought hardship. We've dealt with numerous health issues in our family: my mom' cancer, Ryans breathing issues, surgery and continued lack of answers for his problems, my Papa's knee surgery and subsequent hospitilazation and rehab. There have been some changes, {pains my soul} which are always hard. My grandparents left their home of 45 years and, with it, left my last tangible childhood memory. We have struggled as we searched for schools--finding the right one, trying to determine whether to homeschool, {and if so who and when} and then trying to think about financing said education...it's been stressful.

Through it all I keep coming back to the love and faithfulness of God. He is always there, offering peace and rest for my soul. What a blessing! So, bring it on 2011, I am looking forward to the coming year--both the fun and the challenges.

I'm channeling Seinfeld here...

What's the deal with spicy fast food? Cant we just enjoy our fried food without having to have it all changed up? Everyone has a spicy chicken sandwich--why? Chris always jokes (as he pours on the chalua) that it "tastes like burning". Chickfila is debuting a new spicy chicken biscuit and is giving away free samples. Now y'all know I'm cheap, errr, savvy, but I don't even want it for free. Give me a normal unadulterated chicken biscuit, this southern girl has no need for it!

Ripped from the headlines

OK, first off, I would like to raise a glass {of really cold diet coke} and offer up a toast to my long loved beverage of choice. It was announced this morning on the ticker of GMA's headlines that saccharin is no longer considered to be a "potential hazard to human health". Yippee! May all the nay-sayers hush!

With that bit of good news I now need to ask a very serious question. "SERIOUSLY? Mom in California, are you really sueing McDonalds (or here)for enticing your child to eat unhealthy food by placing toys in Happy Meals?" You have got to be kidding me. I saw the clip of the little girl (maybe 6) and she said she liked the toys because they were "so exciting and thrilling". I don't know anybody, six or otherwise, who would use those adjectives to describe the cheap crap toys in a happy meal. Now, where to begin...

1) Let's recap on how parenting works. The parent is in charge. If your child wants something unhealthy and you don't want them to have it, say "no". Shall I spell that two letter word out for you?

2) There are healthy options at fast food places, teach your child to choose the best option [bonus, this is a learning opportunity (say it with me, "learning opportunity".). You aren't always going to be with them, they need to learn for themselves]. In addition, children need to learn that healthy food doesn't always mean "yucky" food.

3) Marketing is the new way of life. Your child needs to learn that they don't always get what they want, food or otherwise, period (Please, do us all a favor and teach this lesson to your kid).

When we take our kids to McDonalds, we get them each a cheeseburger and we all split an order of fries. I bring applesauce from home. Not only is it cheap, it's really not that bad (and, my kids don't even ask for the toy anymore. We never get it, so it's become a non-issue).

In conclusion I would like to add: Man-up, parents, and start parenting. Learn to just say no...

On being a grown up

Every year, on the first Friday night of December, the kids' preschool offers free babysitting. They provide pizza, cookie decorating, crafts and Christmas shows for the kids from 6-9. You can bet that I emailed the director from my car the day I received that piece of paper in Ryan's backpack (only 12 kids per age group--and, they took Jack too!). Chris and I went to a nice steak place we'd been wanting to go to. I found a deal on restaraunt.com (if you've never used them, check it out--I got one for "spend $100, get $50 off the ticket". We had a glass of wine, salads, bread, filet mignon (me), lamb (Chris), mashed potatoes, green beans (me), asparagus (Chris) had great conversation, ran into some friends and just had an overall lovely evening. We had plans to go to Macy's to get Jack's first Christmas ornament, but we lingered too long over dinner (and our cappuccino's that the waitress brought us on the house! Yum). As we talked (and couldn't remember the last time we'd been out!) and then waited to get our van from the valet, I felt old. The valet couldn't have been older than 25 and I asked him if it was the thrill of his life to drive my van (I was laughing, feeling kinda funny). He just said, "uh no, but it's fine." Ya, I felt like I was a million years old (but, that goes along with my theory that every kid you have adds 10 years to your age. Think about it.).

Anna-Kate and I ran errands Saturday morning and I was struck by what a little lady she is! We had a special lunch and went into a million stores (she has been doing chores to earn extra money to buy her brothers and Chris special Christmas presents) and she was so sweet and great company! She got in and out of the car alone, knew what she wanted to get for "her boys"...she's growing up, and I'm feeling old.

Last night we went to an adults only dinner party. I remember my parents going to those when I was a kid. Now, I'm the adult. Anna-Kate sat on my vanity chair watching me get ready and told Ryan that mommy and daddy were going to dinner with mommy and daddy friends and they were staying home with aunt Ann. When did I become old enough to do adult dinners and have kids who are OK with me leaving?

When did I become a grown up? {I'm not sure how I feel about this.}

A thankful heart

It seems I'm always reminding someone to have a "thankful heart" around here. Thanks to Larry the Cucumber (a la "Madame Blueberry") we often talk (and sing!) about "a thank heart is a happy heart". We have also been learning that joy is an even better kind of happy, because it is a choice that we make to be happy and thankful, in all circumstances.

As today is Thanksgiving, I've been thinking a lot about the things I'm thankful for and have been overwhelmed by God's goodness and blessing to me this year. I am so thankful for Chris and my kids, my parents, family and our friends, a warm home, health, Chris' new job, our church and a myriad of other things.

But, there's more. These are the less obvious ways that I feel blessed. The day to day things that are exhausting and frustrating that I am learning and choosing to be thankful for.

I'm thankful that my husband calls me on my sin...because that means he knows me well enough and loves me enough to push me to be a better person.

I'm thankful for mind numbing exhaustion at the end of the day. It means I have young children who need me physically and emotionally to love and care for them.

I'm thankful for a messy house. It means that I chose to ignore the mess and spend my time playing, laughing and imagining with my kids.

I'm thankful for the endless laundry. Each little shirt and pair of socks covers and warms the people I love most in this world! {Bonus, it's a major sense of accomplishment on the rare occasion when it's all clean, ironed and put away at the same time.}

I'm thankful for tear and tantrums because it means my kids aren't always getting their way. They are learning to share, wait, be patient, or get self-control. They are learning character, and that's hard, but oh-so important.

I'm thankful that my health (and those I love) isn't always perfect because it let's me see my helplessness, complete need for a Saviour, and watch as the Lord upholds and walks me through hard times.

{Here's one I'm especially working on truly feeling as I've spent my life quite concerned with how people view me and if I'm liked. I can't believe I just typed that.} I'm thankful that I've been excluded for being "too Christian" and conservative minded. I'm {slowly} learning that it is so much more important to please Jesus and that it isn't all about me.

What are you thankful for?

Happy Thanksgiving!