Redeeming the Time

It's been all of 3 weeks since I decided on My One Word for 2013. Just a few short weeks since I've begun this process of trimming certain areas of my life and growing others. Isn't it interesting how a subtle shift in perspective can alter your view entirely? Like I'm standing in the same place, looking towards the same thing, but the picture looks suddenly different.

The things I'm looking towards- those that are of the utmost importance to me- my faith, my marriage, my children, my health- what am I doing to build them up? I mean daily? What portion of my time spent is a reflection of where my heart lies? When I look at my life through this lens, it suddenly snaps everything into focus.

 If what they say is true, that the grass is only greener where you water it, then why waste a single precious drop?

The truth is, I have been wasting a lot of time. Drops of time, they seem to slip through my fingers and disappear.   It's easy to SAY I'm going to grab hold of the time and make the most of each moment- you know, seize the day and all that.
  But the truth of the matter is that it's just like every other thing in life. It boils down to one fact.
 YOU'VE GOT TO DO THE WORK!
 Whether it be physically, spiritually, or relationally, you can't neglect to put in the effort and then be surprised to find it's not thriving.  If you're building a wall, you've got to lay the bricks. One by one.

What is your wall?
What has God called you to?

I have been asking myself- asking God- this question a lot lately. And while there are a few different things I feel led to pursue at the moment, investing in my husband and my children will always be towards the top of that list.
 When raising small kids it's very easy to be swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. There are hundreds of little tasks that must be done. But all the little things, they add up to something very big. Life happens in the home. Values and relationships and attitudes and habits are all formed in the home. The lessons learned in the home, last the longest.

While every household has it's own rhythm, I long for ours to slow down. I want to redeem the time. My kids are only this age once. They are young for such a brief period of time. All I have is now. I don't get a do-over. Those tiny, tender hearts are only mine for the blink of an eye.

Ephesians 5:15-16
"See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil."

I have been praying for opportunities to maximize the time. For chances to peel back the layers and dig deeper into our children's hearts. For enough wisdom to stop hurrying and to create a rhythm in our home that makes time for such things.

The thing about opportunity is that it often comes masked as inopportunity. What feels like a nuisance or an interruption might just be the exact moment I've been searching for and asking for.
Communication comes at a cost. Bricklaying takes work.

In the middle of a recent (and somewhat routine) display of dramatic emotion from our 6 year old, something in my gut told me not to rush through this one. Some undefinable check in my heart that kept me from indulging the temptation to speed through the steps of discipline and correction and teaching so I could move on with my day. Had I rushed, I would have missed an opportunity to communicate on a deeper, vitally important level. Her little eyes brimmed with tears in such a way that I knew it wasn't just drama unfolding, but a hurting heart. So I sat on the edge of her bed and scooped her onto my lap and started asking questions as she sobbed into my shirt. After weeks of feeling heavy hearted and somewhat disconnected from my daughter, here was a precious opportunity to discover what was at the real root of the problem. After all, the heart of the matter is almost always a matter of the heart, yes? What ended up being a wonderful, productive conversation almost didn't happen, because I almost didn't do the work by drawing it out of her.  Opportunity can be very easy to miss. I know, because I do it all the time.

So here I am, 3 weeks later, just barely getting my sleeves rolled up. There are a hundred other ways I want to redeem the time. There are books I am reading, friendships I am growing, weight I am losing,  recipes I want to try, new ways to discover of building up my marriage, and time of solitude to take- to just steal away with my coffee and my bible and my God.
 And while it can all start to feel like It's just too much to fit into 24 short hours, I think it's really... not.
It's more a matter of first things first. It's choosing to redeem the time and not just to spend it.
You've got to seize the moment before you can seize the day.

2013: My One Word

Hello my dear compadres! Happy New Year.

I hope 2013 finds you well.
I have been thinking and praying about my goals and hopes for this year and doing a little bit of rearranging of priorities. Pausing for a beat, to reflect on the most important things to me, and if my time spent is a true reflection of that. I spoke last year about my "One Word" (which naturally turned into four words) for the year, and how I wanted to use that one word as a springboard, a filter, a measure, and a goal. Maybe it's a bit corny, but it resonated with me nonetheless. Funny, how I carried on and on about my first two words which were "Content" and "Invested", and it ended up being my other two words ("Hospitable" and "Gracious") that were put to the test in my real everyday life this year. Or, not funny at all? Isn't that how God often works? Making us put our money where our big mouth is?

In the spirit of continuity, I decided to choose one word for 2013 as well. I have hemmed and hawed and thought and prayed and wrestled with choosing my one word. After all, I am not a decisive person. And I am certainly not a person of few words. In all of my soul searching and reflecting, I just kept coming back to this one word, this one thought.

This year I want to be UNHINDERED.

Hebrews 12:1
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

I am not exactly sure all that lies on the path marked out for me. I fear I have been meandering along, unwittingly collecting distractions and sometimes losing sight of the "race set before me."
So I am taking a bit of a timeout to rearrange my time spent and my priorities. No existential crisis here, or noble proclamations about striking the perfect balance in my life. I know better than to claim that grandiose of an ideal.
I just want to scale back a tiny bit. Take a timeout. I want to cultivate the relationships and the things in my life that are edifying- and adversely, to recognize those that are not. To shrug off the things that don't serve a purpose in building up my marriage, my family, my faith, or my health.

I think for me this means being less PLUGGED in and more TUNED in. A little less screen time and a little more face time. A little less social networking and a little more real life heart-to-heart networking- with my kids, my husband, my family, my friends. I am a very social person and I rarely go a week without fellowship of some kind, but I would like to cultivate this more in my life. I want to be unhindered and unhurried and less distracted in my daily life, so that I may "run with perseverance the race set before me."

How's that for grandiose?

2012: My Four Words

It's only 11 days into the new year, but I've had a lot on my mind already in regards to forward motion and what that looks like for me, personally in 2012. I suppose a new year is as good of a time as any to take stock, if it were. This year for me that means looking inward more than outward. It's more of an honest glimpse into my heart,  than a look at my outward, tangible life.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs, SheLovesMagazine, which is made of up many different contributors, and each person shared one word as their personal goal for 2012. One word. Keeping things simple- I like that! Words like Repair, Delve, Rest, Fulfillment, etc. Maybe it's cheesy, but it resonated with me. It's deeply personal and honest to just sum things up in one word. That one word can become a balance, a measure, a filter, a springboard for the year. So I've been thinking a lot and praying a little too, and choosing MY one word.

...Then again, consider the source. I couldnt pick JUST ONE word! I mean, come on, let's all be real here. :) I never claimed that I wasn't wordy! I picked 4 words. Deal with it.

(1)

-CONTENT-

1 Timothy 6:6 "But godliness with contentment is great gain."

This year I am making a conscious decision to be content. Because I do think that it often is simply a choice.

I am going to be content with my age and my body.

Sure, I'd like to lose ten pounds, and sure, I wish I had thick gorgeous flowing hair. Being content doesn't mean I must be stagnant. I will work on those ten pounds. But I will not obsess over my physical appearance. It is part of me. But it is not the most important thing.

I will be content with my finances.

 I will not try to keep up with the Jones'. I will not constantly wish for more. I will be thrilled to wake up in my new home and make coffee in my new kitchen every day. I will be happy to drive my car. I will be thankful for how much or how little each month affords us. I will not live beyond our means. I will be stoked for a free vacation to Italy in the spring!!!

I will  be content with my time.

 We all get the same 24 hour allotment. 

I will be content with my children and my husband

. After all, they are my whole heart divided into 3 people. I will appreciate them for who they are.

I will be content with my talents. 

I will be content with my responsibilities.

 They are mine for a reason. Which brings me to my second word:

(2)

-INVESTED-

Many of my responsibilites are close to home. In fact, they have become my home. This does not mean that I lead a small, inconsequential life.  Actually on some days, the gravity of my responsibility scares the doo-doo out of me! Together with my husband, I am raising my two children. No big deal, right? Just ya know, gotta make sure they grow up to be decent humans with good hearts! Yikes.

 I am making the home we live in a safe and happy and nurturing place to be.  I love what I do. I feel that I can say that honestly. Not every moment of every day, but generally speaking I love what I do.

 Although- I think loving what I do is not the only important component. I also have a respect for what I do. Which I'd venture to say is not a popular opinion anymore. Often people view wives and mothers who don't work outside of the home as somehow inferior. As if it must mean they lack the ambition or the skill to do other things. At the risk of sounding grand, lofty, or obnoxious, I will say that at this time in my life, I view motherhood and homemaking as a calling. Does this make me special or more "called" that someone else? No, of course not. Does it mean that I think all women are called to stay home? No, I do not think that at all.  Does this mean that I do nothing but wipe noses and bums, cook meals, clean floors, etc etc etc? GAH!  NO! My life is full of other things and other people. But it does mean that I value my role.

 The less you love something, the more unlovely it becomes. So I am choosing to be INVESTED in my home, my children, and my husband. I will not view the sibling disagreements, the dramatic 4 year old teary displays of emotion, the conversation interruptions, etc. as an obstacle in MY day. Something to move past. I will view it as a chance to give of myself freely. To cheerfully meet the need that is in front of me. Because the more I give of myself, the more I get back. Especially with my tiny tenders! The more I pour into their little hearts, the more they fill mine right back up. And on that note, I think the same theory applies to marriage. The more I give of myself, the more I get back...But that is another thought for another day.

In the end, however low it might rank in other people's opinion of importance, it ranks high in mine. It is important to me. So I will be INVESTED in my home and my family. 

There are two more words I've pondered and chosen as my theme for 2012 but Im going to share them  next time. If you had to choose ONE word, (or four!) what would it be?

The Thing About Gumption

     The thing about gumption... is that its best to have it in direct proportion to graciousness. I think. Dont you think?

I mean, people can be so different! The world takes all kinds, yes? Different ideas, different ways of communicating, different ways of reacting, different levels of being opinionated. I think Im a pretty average person. Usually somewhere in the middle of the pack. Fairly level-headed, fairly reasonable, usually polite- you know, normal. Haha! As if anyone has the exact same impression of what's "normal". What may seem outlandish to me, might be perfectly alright to the next guy, or vice versa. Which can make daily social life a little tricky to navigate at times.

 But shouldnt there be an underlying theme? An unspoken agreement or sorts? A little of what Aretha might call R-E-S-P-E-C-T? (chuckling) Ok, dont worry, Im not gonna bust out a gospel choir to "mm hmm" and "amen" all my bullet points on decency. Although that does sound like a wildly good idea. (Moms: wouldnt it be awesome if every time we corrected our kids we had a backup choir to really drive home our point? You know, just for emphasis? LOL "Share with your brother" (insert music notes) "Because its the right thing to do"- it'd all just sound so much more fun if a gospel choir sang it)

 Appearantly, even the playground is not much of a safe zone, as I discovered today when some lady got all huffy and rude with me out of nowhere. I literally didnt even see her coming. But all of a sudden, there she was  in my peripheral vision, swooping in and taking a big dump on my nice day.

 I took Bigger One to meet a little freind for a playdate and did the whole bit where you try to carry on a coversation with the other parent, while keeping a hawkeye on Big One and Little One at the same time. Especially Little One, who is a daredevil toddler and likes to give me little mini heart attacks by jumping off of things all the time. This involves lots of unfinished sentences, darting back and forth, and apologizing for always looking over the other parent's shoulder while you talk to them, but its what ya gotta do. Its understood. Its better than him falling to a terrible death from the jungle gym because I wasnt watching. (Confession: I live in fear of this. Im literally waiting for the first broken bone, or trip to the ER because he has jumped off something he should have never been on in the first place. He likes to test this out. His noggin is surprisingly risilient though. Its already been through a lot in his short life.)

I stood about 5 feet from Little One and had my eye trained on him the whole time he played, and he was having the time of his life. Great. Wonderful. Another sunny day at the park. Then he started to cry and call for me, so naturally I ran to him. (Incidentally, he was fine. Just hot and sweaty and thirsty) But appearantly the ten seconds it took for me to get to him was enough time to make him look like some poor rosy cheeked abandoned child who's mother doesnt take care of him. Because that's all it took for some lady to swoop in with her eagle talons and verbally claw my face off. Okay, not really. Im not even sure that translates. But I did get the unsettling feeling that she wasnt above a good clawing.

This total stranger, this person I dont even know, was all judgements and disapproving looks, hissing and shouting to me across the playground to me that he's crying, when Im visibly on my way to him already. Shaking her head and loudly lamenting for all to hear that the poor boy just needs his mother. The poor boy was having a grand time. And being well behaved. And the poor boy's mother was watching him the entire time.Then she was right there next to me, still carrying on. Im not even sure I heard all of her words. They were ugly words anyway.  In the moment, I scooped up my son, gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement to Eagle Talons and walked away. Its my usual MO. Be nice and get the heck outta there. I hate confrontation. No part of me enjoys it. Im a peacekeeper of sorts. But then as I stood there, feeling her eyes burn into me, it sort of made me... angry. Then it made my blood boil. Where do people get off?! I mean, really?

Maybe Im too far across the other side of the line. Maybe I avoid confrontation to a fault. This is something to consider. (Later, when I have time) I've mentioned before the goal I set-  That if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. But I have to say, in the last ten years as my 20's slowly slip into my 30's, I've learned a lot about who I actually am.  Being gracious will always be a goal, but I've realized that there is something to be said for some good old fashioned gumption as well. Its a fantastic quality to have. In fact, I'd like more of it.

Oh to be a person who shoots straight! Who says what they mean and means what they say. Who is sure of their convictions. Who is gutsy. Who is honest. Who never sinks to being passive aggressive. I think you can still be all of those things and still be kind and humble?  Its all in the delivery. When there is  a problem with someone, speak the truth to them in love. It works wonders! 1 Corinthians 16:14 "Do everything in love." To the point. I like it.

Conflict doesnt ever go away. It starts on the playground and it finds its way into most places Im afraid. But Id gamble to say that a little bit of grace and a little bit of gumption can go a long way in life.

Maybe Not an Epic Fail, but Definitely Wiggity Wack

          Epic.    Fail.
 I'll go ahead and bite off the words and choke them down... Let them marinade like a bitter tonic. The truth is staring me brazenly in the face. The scale does not lie. That harsh and impudent number shamelessly blinking back at me from under my feet offends my sensabilites.

It has been a while since I've posted any updates regarding my mission to trim down. I dont want to beat a dead horse, or consume my writing with petty concerns.There are many more important things to talk about.  But lets face it, its a legitemate concern at the moment. And of all the things that I am or am not, I do try to be honest and real. Good, bad, ugly, or otherwise. So in the spirit of keeping it real, I do hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. (just dont ask me about the Red Robin whiskey river bbq chicken sandwich. One instance where the truth isnt good for anyone)

 I think last time we checked in I miraculously lost 5 pounds in one week. And then I lost 1 more gimpy pound over two weeks. And now, almost a whole month later? NO MAS. Not one more pound. I am...disappointed. And only a little bit indignant. It never used to be this hard!? Is this a sign of aging?  I used to get away with cutting corners. But those days are over for me. As I mentioned here, YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK!  Its simple math, really. Calories in. Calories out. Its not rocket science! Its not hard, its just...HARD.

Hard, yes. Impossible, no. I have done it before, I'll do it again. Well, I AM doing it. Six pounds is...considerable! (Can you tell by all the exclamation points that Im really trying to rally, here?)  Its progress. Its halfway. The element of panic I feel is due to the fact that time is running out. Summer has arrived. Its here. No more rainchecks (pun intended). Vacation is less than 6 weeks away. I thought I'd be done by now! Not floundering around like a whale out of water at the midway point!

I need to get my head back in the game. I need to change it up. I also need to stay positive. While it felt like it for a moment there on the scale, this is not an epic fail. I AM losing weight! Just a lot slower than Im accustomed to. I need to remember that its a process that happens one decision at a time. One healthy choice after another... after another... after another. Patience has never been my strong suit.

Maybe I should take up running again. I have a track literally on the other side of my backyard. Maybe I just need to get out in the fresh air and hit the track, leaving a trail of fervent effort in my wake. I feel like Im in a P90X rut. Its sunny and beautiful outside, and it just feels wrong to be excersizing indoors in a stuffy little area. Like a hamster in a wheel.  I am genuinely missing my gym membership right about now- a day I never thought I'd see! Spinning classes were my favorite way to work out. It was actually fun and I really enjoyed the element of fellow spinners. It was also brutal.  I mean, you know you're working hard when you're WRISTS are sweating, right? But spinning is not an option at the moment. Boo friggity hoo. Its time to improvise. Time to rally. My goal is still within reach- I have long arms. (I actually do. My brother in law used to call me Inspector Gadget because it took me a while to grow into my arms. Im happy to report that my limbs are all fairly dimentional these days. Ankles excluded.)

So that's the truth. I am disappointed, a teeny weeny bit panicked, and (foolishly) indignant. But I cannot claim to be confused. I know exactly why its taking so long. Its my own doing. Have I skipped workouts? A few. Have I cheated with the food? *Cough* What whiskey river bbq chicken sandwhich? Fries? What?! Chipotle? Me? (In my defense, I will say that Chipotle is bar none the best burrito I've ever tasted. So whenever passing through a town that boasts this delicious treat, I cannot pass it up. Cannot. That discussion is off the table.) LOL. But that's life. And its ok. As long as Im a good little soldier and fall back in line. Im making progress. Im halfway to my goal! I think at the halfway point there should be little mile markers. Or some kind of little signs that say "Discipline!" "Self Control!" "PS: You are doing this because you WANT to, and not because you have to! So shut up and quit your belly-aching." "PSS: Good job" "PPSS: Keep up the good work!"... I would find that helpful.

In conclusion, my goals for the next month are:
 1) Chin up and stay positive.
 2) Hit it harder with the workouts.
 3) More water
 4) Eat breakfast! Every day! (I know, I should've been doing that a loooong time ago)
 5) Eat something small and healthy every few hours.
 6) Keep perspective. This is something Im trying to improve and that's all it is. Be thankful for what I've got. Which is considerable. Health, Family, Basic necessities. More than a lot of people in the world. Make that double thankful.

It's Confirmed

Well, it's confirmed!
I cannot watch any photo montage set to music without crying. It doesnt matter what the pictures are of. I will cry. I am literally sitting in my chair chuckling (okay fine, cackling) out loud at myself right now. I think I always suspected this truth about myself, but today it was confirmed. I went to my niece's 8th grade graduation feeling 100% non-emotional about it. Just a happy day.  I sat down, looked at all the parents, was reminded that my own daughter will someday be graduating the 8th grade and had to bite my lip because I felt it coming. "Be cool Salhus" Im thinking..."It's akward if you cry. It's not even your daughter..."

Then the photo montage started. Set to music (which is the real emotional-clencher for me). I could'nt help it! I cried. I literally felt embarrassed, which made me laugh (I always default to laughing when I dont know what to do). So, I was probably a very unsettling bench-mate to the kindly, old man sitting next to me...with my half crying, half laughing, entirely strange display. Ah, who cares. Like I said, he was kindly. And my sister was there to laugh with me. She gets me. And that helps in any situation.

Sitting there in the auditorium, smelling that lingering funk specific to all school gymnasiums, looking at the pictures, looking at my niece- it all took me back to my own high school and even college days.  Any of you readers who know me well at all, know that I am a VERY nostalgiac person. "Remember When" is my second all time favorite game. (My first is "Name That Movie". Because I rule at it)

 "Remember when junior prom was ruined by my akward date?", "Rememeber when Norby and I fell in the middle of that pep rally and my cheer uniform went over my head, going from barely existent to nonexistent?", "Remember when we pulled that all nighter at Denny's?" , "Remember when we'd all sit outside in the commons talking and laughing til midnight every night?" "Remember that road trip to HB?" "Remember Amber's "Jungle Fever" dance?"(the other Amber), "Remember Little Blue? (my first car) And late night trips to Taco Bell while we listened to Aretha Franklin?" "Member that?"

I don't know why I love memory lane so much! Well, yes I do. Because we had a lot of good times! Those years for me were filled with laughter and excitement and new chapters and, of course, romances. But I don't look back on those times with anything other than fondness. I have no desire to go back to that time of life. While it was all invigorating and new and delightfully free of responsibility- it was also not "as good as it gets", as they say. Ya know what I mean? It bothers me when peers freak out and essentially turn their lives upside down, based on the desire to regain freedom or youth or whatever it is they think they want to go back to and get more of.  Yuck, that sounds judgemental. Let me rephrase. People might turn their lives upside down for any number of good and real reasons and that is, of course, no business of mine. I guess I just mean, for me personally, I hope to grab on to each day and get the most out of it, regardless of what lies within those 24 hrs. And then to move on to the next with a sense of contentment. Take it for what it is.  I hope to, and I want to, but I need to do it more.

I'm past the high school, the college, and even the newlywed days. They each had their peaks and their valleys. Now I'm in that phase where we have small children and on some days it feels like that alone is an engulfing experience. We're riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Kids can take you from pride to dismay and back again multiple times in a day, yes?! And while I will admit, I have had moments (only moments!) of feeling like motherhood might swallow me whole- it's also not the only thing about me. I am a wife. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a daughter. I am a mother. I am good at certain things and I'm hopeless at others.

I've written before about my desire and goal to be more PRESENT in each day, in each moment. It's so easy Not to do. I can so quickly fill up my time with cleaning, cooking, dressing, bathing, changing diapers, running errands. All good things. All things that need doing. But I want to take more time to appreciate. To soak it up. To play more barbies with my daughter, to make more mudpies with my son, and to remember to give my husband that look that he knows means "I love you" in the middle of the evening, bathtime chaos. To laugh more with my freinds.

But ya know what? It struck me as I was sitting there in that stinky gymnasium tearing up over pictures of kids that I dont even know- I'm happy with the way life is turning out. Not all days feel "happy", not all relationships are free of drama, I don't always know what to do as a parent, it doesnt always feel easy. Okay it rarely feels easy! But I am at a point in my life where I can look backwards with fondness and I can look forward with hope- and I can thank my God for where He's planted my feet right now, today. Wasn't it Paul who said, "I've learned how to abase and how to abound."? So whether today is a 'peak' kind of a day or a 'pit' kind of a day, it's still a day I've been given. What will I do with it?

Well Would'nt You Know...

Hello dear readers! I've missed you. Its been a busy month here at the Maxi Pad (my home) I know. Its a terrible thing to name a home. But like most jokes that stick, its slightly inapropriate and equally catchy. Im not even sure how it got started actually, considering there are an equal number of males and females living in our house. I think it traces back to Ladies Night. Not "going out" like most savvy chicks in their twenties probably do. No, we'd get in our sweats, eat desserts, and watch the Batchelor. Terribly wild of us, isnt it? Anyway, long story short, that's how nicknaming my home "the Maxi Pad" got started and this is where talking about it ends.

So life has been very busy this month, but I cant quite pinpoint why. Just business as usual I suppose. Big One is finishing her first year of preschool (single tear) and getting ready for her first ballet recital- all very grownup things for her little self. Im torn between pride and helplessness as I watch her turn into this independant little person. Little One is turning into quite the livewire and requiring much more of my attention as of late. The minute it gets quiet, is one minute too late to start looking for him. He's all dimples and innocence until he makes up his mind to be naughty. The closer we get to 2, the more I savor the days of sweetness and simplicity with him. I know they are numbered. Husband and I managed to sneak in a mini-break away together last weekend, which was lovely. There's nothing like waking up and realizing that I can shamelessly lie in bed for twenty minutes before getting up because no one needs me! Glorious. We enjoyed peaceful, leisurely meals, staying up late and sleeping in, and hours of bonding time in the car. We've been mulling over some decisions lately, and we were able to make some real progress towards that end. We always seem to get some of our best talking done in the car. Dont know why, something about the open road I guess.

In other news: I FINALLY, lost a few pounds! I recently shared my descent into fatness with you all (because you're the gracious and encouraging type) in my "For Realsies" post. I got myself into a funk and I've spent the past month spinning my wheels. I have been working out, eating clean, and that stupid scale was not budging. It could have something to do with the fact that (TMI alert) I started taking birth control pills again this month. Hopefully that's not an overshare. And if it is...too late! Im pretty sure it's contributed to at least 5 of my "extra" pounds. Blurg. 

So one whole month of these shenanigans and no real progress! So frustrating. Then my dvd player broke so I havent been able to do my P90X videos for a little over a week. Well would'nt you know, one week of not working out and even cheating a little with my diet, and I lost FIVE pounds! In one week! What the what?! I dont get it, but I am just going to be thankful and keep plugging away. Its tempting to test this theory further and see if I can do it again for another week, but something tells me that's not wise. It probably would just end up with me indulging my way back to the number I started from. The number that shall forever remain shrouded in mystery, rather than ever be spoken aloud.
Would'nt you know.

The B Word

     Budget.

     This is generally when people flinch and suck air through their teeth, practicaly hissing and turning away in a distasteful manner. As if to shake it off. At least that's how I reacted when Husband dropped the B word on me a few months ago. There's an undeniable stigma attached to the B word.  Not only because finances are something of such a deeply personal nature that it verges on taboo to discuss, but also because the word itself almost carries a negative connotation. BUDGET. Blech.
     For me, it conjured up visions of raggedy children with dirt smudged cheeks, and a doggedly tired husband who doles out an allowance to old wifey at the end of the day- you know, for toilet paper and milk and terribly boring yet necessary things of that nature. That's awful, I know. But its really what hovers in the back of my mind upon mention of the B word. Or did, rather.
     But I suppose a budget is whatever you make it. And its whatever you make OF it, if you get right down to brass tacks. It's taken me a few months but Im actually making freinds with our budget. Playing nice. Almost even embracing it.  In fact, now that we have "budgeted" our lives, I daresay we may never turn back! The bit I've found pleasantly surprising is the freedom in a budget. There are no guilty purchases, no chunks of money "slipping through the cracks" so to speak, with no guess as to where it wound up or what it went towards. Which,(sidetrip warning!) now that I think about it, is probably why I have grown to enjoy budgeting. If for no other reason than the organizational element! Its all there, laid out and compartmentalized. And if there's one thing that I thrive on, its being neat and tidy. Sounds pretty lame, huh? But as one of my girlfriends once told me "Ya know what?! I like the fact that your face blushes and that I could eat off of your kitchen floor!". We are who we are, yes? No sense fussing over the things that will never change.- But back to the B word. Where were we?  Oh yes, the freedom! I rather enjoy it! If I know we have set aside X amount of money for groceries, bills, dining out, clothes shopping, birthday presents, etc etc etc- its a more tranquil feeling when I throw down the card or swipe it through the machine at the end of a transaction. I can swipe away with total peace of mind. Ha, in your face, budget!

    At the same token,  I have found it to be tricky at times. I can't lie. It was an adjustment. Husband and I sat down at the beginning of the year and set some goals. Some lofty, some smaller scale. We decided that it was time to get proactive and intentional about our finances- particularly saving. Maybe it comes with the territory when you're married to a financial advisor, but I have to say, Husband was right. We were spending money where sometimes we shouldnt. Not in a frivolous way, but more of a ...neglectful (for lack of a better word) way? We just werent always paying attention. Ok FINE.  Mostly me.
And time is sort of a relentless buggar, so month after month passes without much notice and its easy not to reach our financial goals. Whatever they may be. Save. Pay off debts. Buy a home. Put away for the kids. Save more. LOL.My list could be a mile long. There never seems to be a shortage of uses for money, right? Just a shortage OF it sometimes.

     As I said, it has been an adjustment, but surprisingly, not a hard one. I have actually gotten much more cost-effective in my grocery shopping. I FINALLY starting making some sort of a meal plan for the week before I went to the grocery store, which I never used to do. I'd just mosey along the aisles and, with a basic knowledge of my usual necessities, I'd pretty much grab whatever struck my fancy. This usually resulted in a pantry stocked with 27 cans of olives (not that you can ever have too many black olives if you ask me though), 10 jars of marinara, innumerable amounts of chicken broth and white wine for cooking, enough pasta in every shape to feed a small army, and an odd assortment of ethnic foods "just in case Im in the mood for thai".  Yet somehow if I was looking for garbanzo beans or chili paste or something more specific I never seemed to have it.  Being armed with a plan has not only cleaned up my pantry, but taken the panic out of the daily decision of what to make for dinner.

     Like I said, a budget really is whatever you make it. Its personalized. Every family has different needs, goals, and spending habits. Our has been a little different each month because of holidays, moves, trips, and the like. We still eat out and shop(although not as much as I used to) and go to the movies and do fun stuff with the kids. We have made small sacrifices (i.e. gym membership. Awe, shucks!) and changed some habits, but we have also lived life normally and still had fun and not felt deprived or stifled by our budget. More importantly, we have made strides in meeting our goals. We have saved! Next stop, dream house? How's that for lofty? :)

     Cheers to the B word.

For Realsies

  Well, there's nothing like a little incentive to get a lady dragging her butt out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5:45 am to sweat and pseudo-curse her way through another one of Tony Horton's stupid dumb P90X workouts. And by "stupid dumb" I mean "effective and necessary". It works. It does work. But oh, I hate it. I REALLY hate it the first week. By week 3 I've usually found my stride and actually look forward to my workouts as a little golden nugget of alone time. Ah, the life of a mom, yes? Always mutlitasking. As if its not a complete oxymoron to count the 1.25 hours I spend leaving blood, sweat, and tears on my living room floor (ok fine, not blood) as my sacred "peace and quiet" time as well, then I dont know what is.

  But its the way it goes. I have tried doing the workouts at different points in the day, all to no avail. Both of my children find it much too fascinating to watch me crucify myself trying to keep up with these...these FREAKS OF NATURE on the dvd's, to mind their own business. Bigger One tries to do it with me (and corrects my form more than I'd prefer) while Littler One sits on me or throws his football at my face while I try to do sit ups. They are all innocence and good intentions, but needless to say, there are a lot of distractions and not a lot of floor space. So that leaves me with naptime. The only problem there, is that Bigger One's naps have gotten shorter and shorter and are nigh on extinction these days. Im trying to milk one more year out of naptime. Plus I like to grab that 30-45 minutes to read a little of my favorite book (Outlander series, since you ask. Read it. Do it. Think danger+history+love+war+sex+ suspence+ James Fraser. Nuff said) Ah, but I digress. Oh yes. Or I use that time to start cooking dinner, or to pick up, or to just sit in a quiet room all by myself. Which is lovely to do every once in a while.

  So there have been bumps in the road. I have missed workouts, or abandoned workouts halfway through because there is just too much going on in the house. I have been sick again and missed two whole weeks altogether.I have been stressed. And to add insult to injury, I tend to gain weight when I am stressed out. I have eaten a lot of....well...everything. I am a person to loves good food. I love to cook it and I love to eat it. I am the type who works out to eat. Its not the sort of thing you're supposed to admit, but its true. If I work out, I can ALMOST eat whatever I want. Within reason. If I dont work out, well...there's always that trusty old 5-7 (or in this case more) pounds that likes to take up residence on my hindquarters.

  Its time to call a spade, a spade. I let the ball drop. Blurg. I've been half-assing my workouts and making bad food choices- a combo I can no longer get away with. So this morning I decided it was time to scare myself straight on the scale. I stepped on (always before breakfast and naked, mind. As if that really helps), and gingerly opened one eye with trepidation to look down at the number. And then I jumped off of it like it was covered in burning coals. Step back on. Try again. Its that same obnoxious number. "WHAT THE WHAT?! How did this happen so fast?" Its bad, people. Its real bad. Its worse than I thought. I have gained a whopping ten pounds. This sucks. All the nice people in the world will say that muscle weighs more than fat and working out could account for that. I say- hogwash. I know its not all muscle. Its not ten pounds of new, sinewy, lean muscle. Its maybe 4 pounds of muscle (if Im being generous. And I am.) and 6 pounds of fat. That's like a sack of potatoes! The number on the scale this morning (of which we will never speak of) was a proverbial smack in the face. A wake up call. Consider me scared straight.

  I dont even normally write about this kind of stuff because I generally subscribe to the idea that most people dont really care, and even if they do, they maybe dont want to hear about it- it tends to sound obnoxious. And I DEFINITELY dont know why I only write about it when Im sucking at it. But for the sake of comraderie, the intent of getting back on track, and in the hopes of a little encouragement, Im calling myself out on the carpet. Literally.

  I mentioned incentive earlier. I do have that! In four months, I will be relaxing on the beach in the Bahamas with Husband, and I want to FEEL GOOD. Not chubby. So if it means I have to stock up on things like quinoa, fruit & veggies, egg whites, those silly little paper thin sandwich "rolls" (Pshaw! Rolls. Hardly.)  and enough salad to choke a horse, so be it. If I have to take it easy on the pasta for a month or two I could maybe even agree to that. I could EVEN workout early in the morning or late at night. Because its worth it to feel fit. As I've said before (here), it just does something for your mojo. I know what it feels like to be happy and comfortable in my own skin, and I know what it feels like to be pitifully off my game. I much prefer happy and comfortable.  So Im not going to make any outlandish proclamations about losing all ten pounds in five minutes. Im not going to cut corners. Im just going to get right back on track. And Im really going to try to stay positive and not assume its a drag to eat healthy. So if any of you have any fabulous healthy recipes, do share. Here goes. For realsies.

A Little Something I Like to Call "Terrific Lady Day"

Stop the presses. Husband has chosen (of his own free will) to forego playing basketball with the guys today and go shopping with me. Lets pause here for a minute and appreciate the gravity of that statement. This is no small sacrifice for him, as he was just saying to me last week how he was craving some basketball time with the boys. AND considering that its shopping he's agreed to. As in, walking around a mall, looking at clothes, trying things on- for like, HOURS. This has not happened since the early days. The dating and early-marriage days when he would happily oblige my desires to mosey around a mall or department store. Then it slowly changed from happily obliging me to humoring me every so often by tagging along. And then it ultimately graduated to "woman, have you lost your mind?". (He doesnt actually refer to me as "woman", but you get my drift).
And its okay, really. Its not his cup of tea. He'd rather be fishing or hunting or playing golf or doing something active out in nature. And we all know being active isnt exactly MY cup of tea. So for 8 years we've done what all married couples do, and balanced (or tried to balance) the usual give and take that's required in a marriage. Sometimes trading off doing the things we actually enjoy for doing the things every now and again that really, if we're honest, would make us prefer to stick dull toothpicks in our eyes, but we do them regardless because it makes the other person happy. Not that we dont enjoy some of the same things- we do, but we dont do everything together. I mean, lets all be real here. Ya gotta know when to cut and run. Which for me, is usually when he goes fishing. I tried it a few times. My dad had a boat growing up and that suited me fine. I could sit and enjoy th scenery,  and they could fish. That I can enjoy. Its the standing-on-the-riverbank business I dont care for. I think the last time I tagged along was about 5 years ago when I was pregnant with our daughter. Husband took me to some rocky cliff over the river, perched me on about 1 square foot of rock space that he deemed "perfectly safe", where I teetered for the next hour in a chair that, lets all face it, was no match for my heaving pregnant self. It didnt collapse, but I doubt that flimsy little camping chair has ever worked so hard. And that's where I sat working up a sweat and slowly cooking like a dumpling in the sun for the next hour and a half. But it made him happy.

I dont know what made him decide to go with me today, but Im not going to ask any questions. Maybe all the stars and planets aligned, or maybe he's undergone some fundamental change and he actually likes shopping now...or maybe he's suffered some major blow to the head. All I know is that aside from annual holiday shopping,  this only happens about once every couple of years and so I intend to enjoy it thoroughly. A whole day of leisurely shopping with Husband, maybe lunch, or break it up a little with a movie- After all, I AM human, I DO have a soul, and dont intend on torchuring him all the live long day. He's even promised not to drop the usual ten glum paces behind me  (a strange phenomenon that happens upon walking into any store regardless of its nature) pouting the whole time! Its looking up ladies. Long live Terrific Lady Day!

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

Further Confessions

 5 Things.- Scratch that- 6 Things. Unabridged, self-deprecating things at that. Im not proud, but it is what it is.

- I do not know how to roller skate, ice skate, do a cartwheel (in high school, when I tried out for cheerleading I literally had to do a sommersault with spirit fingers for my 'tumbling'. It was a low point. Miraculously, I still made the team). Nor can I whistle by blowing out. Only in. And it sounds like a cat dying. You can only suck in so much air til you get lightheaded!

- SPOILER ALERT! This one is of a, um, *cough* personal nature. -I cannot hear Robin Thicke on the radio without practically wanting to throw my panties at the stereo. I do not know the actual lyrics to his songs, because all I hear is "sexy sex sex sexy sexiness" in that lovely falsetto.  Same goes for Justin Timberlake singing "Hallelujah". Chills. I get chills. Also among my musical confessions: One of my favorite songs is "The Way I Are" by Timbaland. Haha! What a gangster...

-Im not saying its super powers or anything, but my sister and I have a few random skills. She knows all the lyrics to all songs, ever. Of all time. If you are ever stumped, ask her. She will know all the words. Its mindblowing. I, on the other hand, have a rubberface. I can mimic almost any facial expression. I have one dear freind, who's favorite pastime is to choose facial expressions at random from a magazine or a movie and watch me copy them on command. Im not saying we're making the world a better place, or that we even 'use our powers for good and not evil.' (joking, Im joking! Of course we use them for good) But we might be fun to have around if you are ever bored out of your mind. I also have an... well Im just going to say it-  an impressive repertoire of movie quotes. This sounds like bragging, but I dont think it is.  

-I cannot dance. The shame! I despise this about myself. I think maybe a long time ago I could?  But I lost it. I lost my mojo. My husband is a much better dancer than I am. He loooooves to remind me of this. He knows exactly how many drinks it would take in any given situation to get me on the dance floor. Luckily I rarely drink alcohol or am near a dance floor. When I do, and I am? Stand back. Its not pretty.

-I do not know all the rules to even the most major sports. In high school I was on the bowling and cheerleading teams. I wasnt exactly Sporty Spice. I mean, Im not a complete ninny- I understand the basics of what's going on, but it ends there. For all I know, too much eye contact could be a foul, or a tickle fight could be allowed in the middle of a volleyball match... No?... Akward?

- I am not prone to doing things slowly. Vacuuming, shaving my legs, brushing my teeth, driving, talking... Even worse is when I get to doing these things rather quickly, I tend to overly focus on that one thing while the rest of my limbs start to have a mind of their own. Wierded out? Haha, I guess that one requires an explanation. When I brush my teeth, I do it so quickly and vigorously (sad news for my gums I might add), that while my right hand is hard at work, my left hand gnarls up into this arthritic little ball and suddenly I've got a claw for a left hand. Not cute. Appearantly its just too much for my body to concentrate on and I malfunction. It took me years- literally years, to train myself to shave slowly. My family called me Zorro all through high school because of the many self inflicted gaping wounds from my shaving mishaps. The very worst of which, I did on the morning of a cheearleading competition, a school dance, and a wedding, all of which I was participating in on the same day. I mean this one was a bloody massacre. I had to wear a huge bandage on my shin to all three events. It looked like a crime scene on my right leg! In short, I am a person prone to misadventures...Ah,  Bless my heart.

Bless her heart too. Looks like she inherited a little bit more than my ankles and my penchant for comedy... Her left hand is showing that she's "4". The right hand? Not so sure.

The Weight of Worry

In my recent post "An Anchor for the soul ", I shared a bit of how I've been struggling with fear. Fear of something terrible. Fear of the unknown. Fear of, I dont even know what! As if I dont have enough legitimate concerns to deal with in a day, I'm now conjuring up newly invented, undefinable concerns as well. Perfect. At least Im thorough.

While I recognize the existance of this inner struggle as of late, I feel that I have not exactly conquered it yet. Or if I have, its been only rarely and briefly. Fear is a beast! A vicious beast with its finger on my pulse, and a chokehold on my neck. (Figuratively, of course.) Its with a smirk, and a tongue-in-cheek attitude that I speak so dramatically in reference to something that actually is a bit dramatic for me. Its how I cope. So bear with me.

It just so happens that Im one week deep into a two week wait to find out if I have skin cancer. On the whole, I know that Im young and there's a good chance that I dont have melanoma. I also know there's a good chance that I do. My mom has had skin cancer more than once, and more recently, my sister was diagnosed with melanoma.  We were not blessed with porcelain skin. Its more like alabaster. The color of blue iced milk. I accepted my inability to be tan long ago, but the smattering of freckles and moles I get instead is hardly a consolation prize. So I've had a bad gut feeling about a couple of moles for over a year now, but have put off going to the dermatologist on the flimsy basis of not having the time, or not wanting to spend the money, but truthfully its been because Im just too chicken. But after my sister was diagnosed with melanoma, my cage was sufficiently rattled. It was time to quit mucking about and just grow a pair (again, figuratively, of course) and go get on a doctor's radar. So I rallied my courage and went.

After spending 30-some-odd minutes sitting alone in a room with my anxious thoughts and working up a nice cold sweat in my paper gown, the doctor didnt have much to say to ease my mind. I heard lots of  "Hmmm"s and "Tsk"s and "I dont like the look of that"s. Ultimately she cut out 3 moles to send to the lab and told me to come back in ten days to get stitches out and hold tight for two weeks until we know the results. Right. Hold tight. This is highly inconvenient to a person who's two chief weaknesses are impatience and worry.
I left the doctors office, started my car, and tried very hard to ignore the panic that I felt rising in my chest. Or at least keep it at bay. My first thought was, "Who can love my kids as fiercely as I do if I die?" I don't want to be a drama queen. I'm not a hypochondriac. Im fairly confident that the rational side of my brain in still in tact. But I do think God has a knack for pinpointing these weaknesses/fears in our hearts and drawing them to the surface every now and then. Like bile, rising up, whether you like it or not. Yet however uncomfortable it feels, and however much it makes me squirm and want to plug my ears like a little kid who actually thinks that works in warding off unpleasant news, I do believe these fears being brought to the surface and dealt with is ultimately for my own greater good.
I keep using the word "fears" in a vague sense. I suppose it boils down to a fundamental fear that something bad will happen to my children. Or that some terrible, unforseen accident will befall my husband and I, and how this will ultimately affect my tiny tenders. The thought alone makes my chest tighten, my vision blur with tears, and gives me a mild urge to dry heave.  Ironically enough though, I've found that the most theraputic way to deal with this fear is to face it head on rather than run screaming for the hills. I've thought a lot this week about what would happen if my biopsy came back positive for cancer. Odds are they'd go back in, cut it all out, stitch me up, and I'd carry on perfectly fine with only another scar to add to my collection. But what if that werent the case? What if I actually died? (hey, I warned you to bear with me!) What if I actually died of skin cancer? What then? Do I still believe that God is good? Do I still believe that He loves me and has a more perfect plan for my life? A plan that trumps my own? Do I believe that He loves my husband and each of my children infinitely more than I even could? Well,yes... I guess I do. I couldnt abandon any of those beliefs even if I wanted to. "I just know in my knower"(as my mom used to say), that He does. So whaddayagonnado? Im still "in it". I dont have a nicely packaged little antecdote to come out the other side of my head trip with. I do know one thing though: Fear is a beast I need not wrestle with. Because if I truly trust in my God, if I have a big enough measure of faith, then I can have a real peace that passes understanding. I heard once that the single most repeated instruction from God in the bible is "Fear not." 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind". God is never the source of my inner turbulence. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. His grace and peace are intensified not in spite of, but because of my personal trials. Every verse I've read in the past week has said things like "Take courage", "Be still, be calm" "Dont be afraid" "Find solitude" and "Recognize my hand in this"...

I read about David and Goliath. David slew the lion and the bear, and having thus developed courage, he moved unflinchingly to confront the giant Philistine. It was in this area of courage that he was above his fellows. Quiet faith had its moment of open revelation. Building faith in the lesser challenges will be a delivering angel in the most calamitous moment.
SO. Skin cancer or no skin cancer, I'll be okay.  The weight of worry can rob me of peace and joy just as easily as any hardship I may face. So why bother with it, really?

Ok So I Lied!

But not intentionally! A while back  (now, now, there's no need to document HOW FAR back) I said I was going to re-start P90X... Turns out I lied.
Ewe. I hate how this already is shaping up to sound like one big procrastinating "fail"! I ..."WAS going to..." "RE-start"?... Gag. I swear Im not this person. I will say this, in my defense: I had good reasons! Legitimate reasons! Health reasons. Holiday reasons. Packing and moving reasons. This is starting to sound like a lot of reasons.
So now we are moved, settled, healthy, and I am fresh out of good reasons to put it off any longer. So its really true. (Drumroll please!) On Monday, THIS Monday, I am re-starting P90X. There, I've said it. Now I have to do it. The very same reason why I avoid new years resolutions. All that accountability, the public scrutiny, the misplaced pressure! But this time Im embracing it, which is actually quite contrary to my usual habit. Historically speaking, its a telling sign if I've quit TALKING about doing something, because that is about the exact time that I actually DO the thing. Especially in the health and fitness department. "Im going to eat healthier", "Im going to run ten miles", "Im going to quit drinking soda", "blah blah blah". No one cares! No one really ever wants to hear any of this nonsense. Except maybe a sister or a best freind or someone of that nature. Other than that, Im guessing that its better to just shut up and do it already and quit carrying on about it. So I will, and I am, and I'll let you know how it goes.
I do have a small ammendment to make: I am not entirely against New Year's Resolutions. Im all for reflecting, taking stock, and setting personal goals. I actually have a lot of goals. I want to have more GUMPTION! More courage, more spunk, more GUTS. I want to be more GRACIOUS. And those are just the G's!  Back during the holiday frenzy, I had made it my "December personal goal" that if I must err, to always err on the side of graciousness. I've decided that was a good one, and Im going to keep it at the top of the list for-  well, for forever.  I think its more the element of choosing January 1st to be a Refresh button that doesnt jive with me. If I really wanted to do something, or not do something, or make some emphatic change, I would just do it, regardless of the date on the calendar. But I suppose its as good of a time as any-  and hey, who am I to talk anyway? Here I am,  implementing my big P90X plan on January 24th. LOL. Maybe I just resist January 1st because I really am a procrastinator? Hmm.  Im sure I can trust you to put that one in the vault...

An Anchor for the Soul

Do you ever get the unsettling feeling that things might be going too well? Like the precarious joy you experience might crumble? Like one resounding crack in your universe could shatter the comfort and ease of your normal everyday life? I do.
And I dont consider myself  to be a negative person. A worrier maybe, but not a Debbie Downer. More so than ever lately though, I catch myself holding my breath, so to speak. Fearful in my heart,  and over what? Im not even sure. I catch myself wondering, will it be a phonecall? A test result read to me in some stale white doctors office? An accident? An illness? What will be the thing that splits my life in two?- Before and After.
Whatever level of this feeling I've experienced in the past,  is only multiplied by about a thousand now that I have two small children. If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the thought of them suffering. The tears shed that cannot be prevented, the scraped knees, the hurt feelings- these things hurt a mothers heart, yes,  but they dont break it. Its the really tough stuff Im talking about. The pediatric cancer, the parents who die with young children left behind, or even worse, the young children who die- the tragedies that are dreadful beyond what it seems a soul can withstand. These are the things that grip my heart with fear. Its like once you have kids, your heart no longer resides within your chest, but its been ripped out and is now running around in this small little person, forever linked with them, and out of your own control.
This all sounds very gloomy and very dramatic, I know. Which is not usually my style,  but its been a real and genuine struggle for me lately. To not be governed by fear.
Its interesting, actually. I started writing this blog entry a week ago, and left off two paragraphs into it, and went about my busy week, intending to finish it later, after I'd sorted out the rest of my thoughts. This morning through a series of random events, I met a woman and was so impacted by her that I cannot shake the emotions that have lingered after she left. I have teared up at least 17 times today just thinking of her. She had come over to buy the xbox my husband had listed on craigslist. She showed up looking very fragile and very... determined.We started chatting, and she started to tell me her story a bit- how she was buying this xbox for her son- how it was the only thing he wanted for christmas and he was convinced Santa would bring it to him and how this had her worrying as to how she could afford to work that one out. She had been spending all she had on chemo and treatment. She has cancer. Terminal cancer. Her kids are only 11 and 7 years old. This is literally her last christmas with her kids. She shared with me her inital shock, her months spent in chemo and fighting the disease, and how she was done with all treatments now, and time was running out. She said she was thankful for the extra time the chemo had bought her. She smiled and was upbeat about how she couldnt believe the timing and luck (she saw our ad minutes after we posted it, just checking one last time on a whim to see if she could find what she was looking for before she left town this morning, it was the exact one she hoped to find, she was pretty sure this was the last year her son would really believe in Santa, etc etc). I had never met this woman before in my life and my heart was wrenching for her. She stood in my entryway and we talked for quite a while. I cried. She cried. She mentioned  how it seemed meant to be that we'd have this conversation, and that it was funny how God works. Indeed.
This woman had experienced that crack in her universe. The crack that makes all the noise and hubbub of normal life fade to a deafening silence. She told me that she had hope- she had to, she said. I am staggered by the hearts ability to hope. When all the waves and breakers of life have swept over me,  hope is an anchor. Hebrews 6:18 "...lay hold of the hope set before us. this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast..." Romans 5:3-5" ...We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perserverance; and perserverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts..."
So that's where it gets real for me. There is hope that fails, and there is hope that 'does not disappoint.' If I hope only for a comfortable, happy, easy, tragedy-free life, I very well may be let down eventually. If I put my hope in God, to be that anchor for my soul when I am overwhelmed then I will not be disappointed. Life does not come free of hardships. Or heartbreaks. Or even tragedies. It just doesnt. But I have a hope that is real.
Coincidentally enough, a few days ago, this was the snippet of my daily reading: "I will never leave you alone in the midst of any affliction. You can not escape the crisis experiences if you desire to grow and mature, but you need never fear them regardless of the form they take, for my grace and my equanimity shall be as a strong anchor that shall hold you fast, and you shall not be driven off course." Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Inappropriate? LOL. But seriously. So randomly perfect that it is not random at all.
I realize that walking through life like its a mine field, gripped with fear, is not the best way to go about it. Nor is it wise for me to hope only for an 'easy' life. So I'll quit holding my breath, exhale, and do my best to fall somewhere in the middle. Being thankful for today, and letting tomorrow worry about itself.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things....

Great, I will have that darn song stuck in my head all day long now...
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my  list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things,  then why shouldnt I? Haha!-  not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!

1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.

2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.

3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.

3) A JOLLY HOME.  As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.

4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of  "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.

5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the  basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.

6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out,  now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.

7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?

Mojo

Tomorrow night I am re-starting P90X. I am filled with equal parts excitement and dread. Goodbye lovely evenings spent cozying up next to my husband, reading books, watching tv, ushering in the only relaxing part of my day with glee (the emotion, not the show)(I do sometimes watch though). And its Hello again yoga pants, red sweaty face, and nearly throwing up in my own mouth from exertion. Haha, come to think of it, of course it would be my own mouth. Anyone else's mouth would just be unconscionable.
I have taken a small sabbatical from my workout regime due to sickness, and then extended it due to self indulgence. And I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ah, but its time to shake off the dust. You see, Im in the danger zone. That vortex of a place where I am ALMOST where I want my body to be, but not quite there. Close enough to taste, but also far enough away from the wretchedness I felt after gaining 50 lbs, having a C-section and getting completely demoralized by the body I inherited after giving birth to our second child. Far enough away to get comfortable and forget how much I hated the way I felt. And to all of you out there who will say to me "But dont you feel strong? Dont you think you should wear the stretch marks/soft edges/ what-have-you,  as a badge of honor and be proud and blah blah blah"....to all of you I say, Yes, and No. Yes I am surprised/proud of what my body is capable of doing. It has carried, protected, delivered, and nourished  two children. Is that a feat? Heck yah it is! Am I pleased with the physical aftermath? No way. Do I accept it as part of the deal? Yes. Would I trade my kids for the lithe, speedily metabolized body I used to call my own? Of course not. Do I still want to complete the process of  getting myself back?! YES!
I dont know about the rest of the women in the world, but for me, I know its definitely a process. I was not one of those basketball-under-the-shirt looking pregnant women, that I thought for sure I would be. I always do great until about the 7th month. I dont gain much weight, I feel all glowy and jolly and think Im going to skate by unscathed to the very end. And then it happens. I explode. It happens so fast it boggles the mind. I wound up gaining between 40-50 lbs with both pregnancies and the bulk of it happened in the last 3 months.Yikes. But Im getting bogged down in the details. You dont care about the details. The point is, I have realized that I personally, tend to lose myself a tiny bit somewhere along the way with having babies. Colicky babies. And its a process to get myself back. Physically, mentally, all of the above. I got through the 6 months of colic hell. Then, when the clouds parted, and I quit functioning in survival mode, I found the drive to lose the 50 lbs of baby weight. Now, its been a whole year, and I want to do myself a solid and just finish it already. I want to be fit, and not just thin.
I think I have a healthy, realistic grasp on the whole thing and I dont have crazy goals. I know I cant eat whatever in the world I want and not work out, like I could ten years ago, and still be thrilled with the outcome. Its like every other area of life- YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK! Physically, spiritually, relationally, (is that a word?)...you cant just quit putting forth the effort and then turn around and expect to be thrilled with the results. Dont be shocked when whatever it is, isnt thriving.
SO, I am going to shake the dust off my workout shoes, Im going overlook the cheeseball factor of Tony whatever-his-last-name's insistance that I always "bring it" in the workout dvd's, and Im going to rally my husband's joint effort as we make working out a regular part of  life once again.
As I said, I am filled with equal parts excitment and dread regarding this. Dread, because I know how hard and grueling the workouts are. And I am not exactly Sporty Spice, so this does not appeal to me. Excitement, because I know it works. And because, I know it sounds wierd, but I actually feel sexy when I work out. Im slightly embarrassed for having used that word, and I hope its not inappropriate, but I sat for 5 minutes trying to think of an alternative and could not. I am fully convinced I do not LOOK sexy working out, so it has nothing to do with vanity. Not by a long shot.  But there is something about putting a great song on your itunes, shutting everything else out, and just going for it. Pushing yourself, and working your hardest. It does something for your mojo. Just sayin!
So wish me luck!

Great Expectations

No. Expectations are the devil! ...Well, ok, I retract that statement. Its a blanket statement, and those are almost never a good idea. Overly high or unfair expectations are the devil.
In retrospect, it all starts with me. Overthinking things. As usual. dont you just hate 'retrospect'? The way it lays things out so clearly, almost taunting you with its obviousness? Its a double edged sword, retrospect. The way it can (much to your own chagrin) cut so clearly to the heart of a matter when you choose to look honestly into it. The way it can make you feel so utterly silly sometimes. But at the same token, it serves an invaluable purpose. You live, you learn, as they say.

It is at best unwise, and at worst dangerous ground, when you let expectations dictate your actions. In marriage, in work, in freindships, in nearly anything. "I'll do this for you, if (or because) you do that for me." "I'll work hard at this, only because it might get me that." "I expect you to be A, B, and C to me, and if you aren't, you are letting me down. You are the bad guy". Dangerous lines of thinking!

Obviously, expectations on some level are healthy and necessary elements of any relationship. Obviously. Im not saying 'lower your expectations, roll over and take whatever you can get and live with it". That's just sad.
I guess the thing Im pondering, is, well, selfishness. Inwardly, Im wincing. Im not loving what Im seeing. I confess (appearantly I have much to confess these days?), that I often let selfishness lay the groundwork for expectations, which in turn lays the groundwork for disappointment, resentment, or hurt.

Take date night, for example. Oh dear, I cannot believe I am going to expose myself like this, but whatever, here goes. My husband always tells me that I hold date nights with such a high regard, such a lofty expectation, that I darn near expect it to be some magical, mystical experience. Im chuckling as I write this, because he is totally right. I do. Its a recipe for disaster! How often, I wonder, has he walked unawares into a booby trap that I have unwittingly set?

 At the movie: for 8 years, without fail, as the popcorn and hot dogs stop singing and dancing and the lights dim, I"ll lean over and say "make it a date" and he kisses me, thus commencing the "date". One, maybe two times he forgets or I forget and my stomach lurches as I realize with horror, 'what we've become'. LOL. So dramatic, right? We sit at dinner and eat our food and chit chat and instead of relaxing into what could be a lovely, comfortable silence, I let the inner monologue begin. "Oh my gosh. So eight years huh? Eight years is how long it takes? To be that couple that just sits across from each other at the restaraunt with nothing to say? With just dead air between us?!"  Its silly, but oh, its real. I am expecting him to wow me with sparkling conversation, to make me feel twitterpated, to essentially do and say all the right things. How exhausting. How foolish. If I would only relax and forget about all my expectations of him and of the night. If I would silence my inner monologue and enjoy him, enjoly US for what we are- 2 people who know each other, who love each other, who fit together. If I would see it as it truly is, I'd save us both a lot of grief!

I never used to even think twice about these silly things. Its been a phase. And Im closing the book on it. Maybe its the change that comes with having kids. Maybe its all the million outside stresses of work and money and responsibility that creep in to our happy, intimate little bubble. Maybe that's why, when the rare date night, or the even more rare vacation together happens, I put so much pressure on these events to be something fantastical. (yes, Im sticking with the word fantastical).

 Maybe its just growing pains. Ah, but growth is a good thing! So there you have it. The real truth, the crux of the matter, is that what we share is GOOD. Its familiar and comforting and easy. Its even still romantic and twitterpating. Maybe not on a daily basis or all the time, but its there when it needs to be there. Its right. Its enjoyable. Its a gift, even.

In my vows I promised  "To always trust, To always forgive, To always cherish him as my most precious gift, and To always walk beside him- no matter what this life brings." So I will do just that. I will trust in what we share and in how far its come. I will appreciate the changes that have refined it. I will forgive when hurts or disappointments happen. I will be thankful for the gift of marriage. I will relax and enjoy it for what it is!
And as for unfair expectations, I must recognize them and shake them off.  And focus more on being unselfish rather than selfish. Easy, right? LOL. I'll let ya know how the next date night goes. :)

Confessions: Second Edition

So here's the real truth of the matter, however unsettling it may be. I think Im getting lazy. When I used to work, I was so good at compartmentalizing my time. Work time, check. Family time, check. Cleaning/ grocery shopping time, check. Free time, check. I was so much better at focusing wholly on each particular thing and then moving on to the next.  I know life isnt always so "compartmentalized" and tidy like that, especially when juggling multiple roles in one day. We are a generation of multi-taskers. And we wear this badge as if its an honor. Maybe it is, to a degree. I can brush my teeth, put my daughter's hair in pigtails, talk on the phone, and keep my 12 month old out of the toilet (almost a full time job in itself) all the same time. Great. Grand. Getting things done.

Except...I think somewhere in the middle of all that, I tend to get swallowed up in the minutiae of my day. All those small tasks that maybe dont feel so groundbreakingly important, but on some level, they really are.  I cherish the time Im able to spend at home with my two kids. But...do I really? I know in my heart of hearts, that answer is a resounding yes. But Im thinking that a little bit of the importance of my 'job' ( Ewe. I dont like the way that sounds. Lets say mission) has been lost on me lately.  The tricky part, is that often some of the most mundane parental tasks- the ones we really dont love doing, if we're honest, can wind up being unexpectedly the sweetest moments. Goodnight prayers and kisses, early morning pre-coffee breakfast making, diaper changes that turn into tickle fights. But if Im always rushing through these things to get them done, instead of being actively present during them, I miss SO much. Its one thing to keep my children alive, fed, bathed, clothed, loved, safe, etc. That's the easy part. Its making the deposits in their hearts that requires so much more of me. And the scary part? Its easy not to do. Ooh. Just got REAL!  (chuckle)  It is though. Its easy to coast some days. To do the basic minimum requirement.

So I am personally (publicly) challenging myself. To rise to the occasion. To do my real and true best. And dont worry, its not some noble, grandiose proclamation to strike the perfect balance. Life is life. Whatever. Just putting myself in check.

In fact, this very moment, Jaxon is literally biting my ankles. Literally.  And Bella is running circles through the kitchen and dining room like a wild banshee. So this is me, closing my computer, turning off the tv, and being present. Otherwise, good Lord, the house might burn down.

So What, if it is!

In the vein of my last post, and embracing who I really am, I have decided to listen to many of my freinds prodding, and go ahead and start a blog. Disclaimer: I do not read, follow, or even pretend to know anything about blogs. Im an amateur. Im also doing this in spite of my husbands endless ribbing and teasing me about it. He says its nerdy.  I dont agree (obviously) But ya know what? So what if it is!
I could have relative things to say! Relative to what...well, it just depends. This blog will not be about any one thing in particular. It will not just be about motherhood.  Because, while that takes up an insurmountable chunk of my time, my heart, and my mind,  its not the ONLY thing about me. It will not just be tidbits I learn here or there. Or even just funny tidbits in general. It will not be about travel, because while I would love to travel with all my heart, I have not had much opportunity to do so quite yet. It will not be about marriage. It will not be a list of gripes. It will HOPEFULLY not be boring. It will just be...well...ME.  Thus the title. In my mind, its an ironic, satirical, (always laced with humor) look at my life as a stay at home mom . To someone who doesnt know me, it may sound like the "this" in my title makes me sound like some jaded, despondent, desperate houswife with nothing but time and a keyboard. Which genuinely could not be further from the truth. Could not. Just so we clear that up.
So here I go, putting myself out there, for all to see. Please be nice to me. ;)