Holly Jolly Chaos

Im doing it again... Just like I did last year.  BLURG.  Im sitting in the same hideous recliner that I did a year ago (incidentally I still refuse to part with it, however much I despise it's lack of aesthetic beauty.) So I'm sitting in my chair, shirking my duties, surrounded by throw pillows, farm animal toys, boxes, books, cold medicines, important documents....all the stuff I keep moving and shuffling and keeping within arms reach for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days until we finally, officially move.

The thing is, I honestly just don't do well with this kind of chaos. I hate it. Haaaaaaaate it. There, I said it!  My home is my space. Its my sanctuary. Its my turf. I like things clean. I like things organized. I like things put away. I like surfaces to shine. I like to cook in my kitchen. I like to put up holly jolly decorations at the proper time in the month of December. All of this has been seriously messed with. Which is seriously messing with ME.

I keep zoning out. Just completely malfunctioning at inopportune moments! I was just rocking little brother to sleep for his nap (something I refuse to give up just yet, as he is my last baby, and Im entirely unprepared to give up those 10 minutes of quiet snuggling). I accidentally sat there for 30 minutes, wasting precious time. Thinking about how I need to organize the junk drawer which morphed into the junk cupboard. (I really don't want to do that one.) I also need to wash all the rugs and blankets before I pack them up. I need to organize the kids' sock drawers because Im sure half of them dont fit, or dont have a match, and why take 23  useless, HALF pairs of socks to the new house? Come to think of it, I need to organize our sock drawers too. And on that note, why dont I just dedicate a shoebox to live on top of the dryer as a little sock coffin for all the socks that meet their demise in the dryer. I mean really, where to they GO?!

I need to dig up the purple flowering plant in the backyard. The ONE plant that I have managed to keep alive for my daughter who loves to garden. Who tragically has a mother that cannot garden. Who CAN NOT keep anything alive. No, we definitely can't leave behind her beloved (and alive!) purple plant. I need to take the goodwill things to the goodwill because they keep tumbling all over the way back of my car. Luckily I have a "way back", so its out of sight, out of mind. That one I can save for later. Oh, I really need to go buy some special cleaner for my shower because there is wierd rust in our water that tints the shower pan orange in the cracks, and I just can't leave that there. I should pack up more of my kitchen, although that feels risky because after all, we do still need to eat for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days. I need to purge the hallway cabinets that store everything from humidifiers to movies, to placemats, to easter baskets, to framed pictures that I never put up at this house because I knew we'd be moving in a year.

A year. Did an entire year really pass by already? Can I somehow slow life down? Press a pause button? No, I suppose I can't. So I may as well learn to stop and smell the roses, even amid the holly jolly chaos that Im currently in.

This makes me sound grouchy, but I don't think I am? I think Im just floundering a little. Just a bit "out of sorts" this holiday season. I definitely am not complaining. I am beyond thrilled to be moving into a brand new home. OUR home! I am even more thrilled that soon I will have my husband back. That soon evenings and weekends will be leisurely again. So what if there's still roughly 47 projects that will still need finishing at the new place. So what if we slap up a charlie brown, helter skelter tree only a few days before christmas! So what.  There is much to be thankful for. I think I just need to get over the chaos. And quit zoning out. And get back to work.

Did I shave my legs for all this? No. Because I honestly dont have a clue where my razor is.

Tales From the Trenches: On Staying Home and Staying Positive

Im not going to lie. Im going a little bit crazy. Not to mention stir crazy. Winter has set in, the days are shorter and darker, and Husband has recently been otherwise occupied by the teeny tiny project of a new home, which has often left the kids and I filling our time at home. The weather has turned cold and wet which rules out most outside play. Park days have dwindled, and confession: so have playing-in-the-backyard-days because of Buster's land mines that Husband normally picks up, but now have become my area of responsibility. Along with taking out the trash and raking leaves and other silently agreed upon "man jobs" in our house. And while I officially can (and do!- points there) get these tasks done, lets all be real here. Where Husband would do them bi-weekly, I've done them bi-monthly. Atrocious, I know.

So we've spent many a day indoors. Trying to keep two kids busy and happy and out of trouble. This takes an exorbitant amount of effort some days! Puzzles are ruined by little brother. So are all endeavors to draw, paint, color, or cut/glue. And since Im making a genuine effort to minimize screen time (sidenote: this is a real effort at improvement on my part, because both my kids will happily sit in front of the tv and watch movies together in blissful quiet harmony. While there is nothing wrong with this, and we do it often, I am trying to engage them more.) Be present, right?! Do the work! Make deposits in their little hearts! All the stuff that they dont tell you is the actual hard part of parenting.

SO. Its been interesting. In fact, this very minute, my two pajama clad tinies have gotten into the art cupboard and there are markers, paint brushes, color books, and the like all over my kitchen counter. There have been no altercations, no tears, and no damage to clothing, person, or surface, so Im allowing it to go on unsupervised. For now. I think this has actually been good for me in terms of loosening up. As a person who is perpetually tidying and cleaning I have gotten better at living life and allowing messes. (Kids will do that to you.) Sure! Get out the playhouse! And the barbies and the play food, and the hot wheels, and the baby dolls, and the airplanes, and the books. And ok fine, the toy microphone. And sure! We can play with it all at once! Mix it all up together! Go for it.

 Its good for me and its good for them. The 2 year old is learning to play and use his imagination and share and get along. The 4 year old is learning that if you're big enough to get it out, you're big enough to clean it all up. She's also learning patience with the 2 year old because he reeks havoc on all of her best laid plans. She's learning to lead by example and do the right thing even when its not always "fair". 

 I'M learning that I have a lot to learn. Some days I finish with a sense of pride and joy and fullness.  For the quality time spent reading books and snuggling. For getting down on the floor with them and pretending. For diffusing arguments and drawing the right responses out of them.  For being Fun Mommy! Which, if Im being totally honest, is usually Daddy's area of expertise. (I say this fondly and begrudgingly at the same time.) I love that Husband comes home, changes out of his work clothes and then wrestles on the floor with the kids while I cook dinner. I love that they squeal with delight when they hear the garage door open. It only makes me a little bit sad that Im not the first one they run to, to be silly with. But really, that's my own doing. Some days Im pleased with myself for turning off the tv, and turning on the music and dancing around the living room with the kids- AND managing to be productive at the same time. In the way that it really counts, and in the practical, getting-the-floors-mopped kind of way.

 And then some days I feel utterly defeated. Some days I forget to play and have fun because Im too busy taking care of life. Some days the kids have fought, the house is a mess, and I have lost my patience (after the 17th time little brother has climbed on the counter and emptied the entire contents of my purse, then ruined his sister's art project and thrown every single crayon in every single direction.) Some days big sister has been excessively whiny and contrary. Some days I have a hard time controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE! Its true. Go ahead and judge. Some days I let them watch too much tv. (Cringe) Eeek. I know.

But we are living life. Life is messy and complicated and full of mistakes. But God is faithful. Lessons have been learned. Important lessons. Like, positive reinforcement and encouragement and praise are every bit as important as discipline. Like, if I want my kids to practice  kindness, gentleness, patience, self control, etc.- then I ought to be practicing them myself. Like, thankfulness for simplicity. Sometimes when raising small children, its easy to get swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. But the day is made up of hundreds of moments. Busy, loud, hectic,  moments of rushing our the door or getting dinner on the table. Quiet, still, midnight moments spent rocking, feeding, and comforting. Precious bedtime prayer moments where you are touched and surprised by the peek into your 4 year old's heart and concerns. Moments of mundane, vitally important opportunities to teach and mold and love and grow. And those moments are SIMPLE. They are easy to miss.  It's taken me two babies to learn to appreciate THOSE moments. They're what I end up remembering. They're what I end up cherishing. A tiny sweaty head with cherub cheeks and curly lashes, nestled on my chest in the rocking chair when I can hardly keep my eyes open and I feel like the only person in the dark universe who is awake. Giggles and squeals in the bathtub. Hurdles of pride and tears followed by hugs and forgiviness. It can be a lot of work but it's still SIMPLE. And it fills my heart with a simple kind of joy. Kids are funny like that. Like I always say, they completely fill you up and completely empty you at the same time.

So, I am putting this on an index card -

 Galations 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things, there is no law."

Then Im going to put it on the fridge as a reminder to my tiny tenders... And I'll put it on my bathroom mirror as a reminder to myself.  And then Im going to pray a lot. :)

Dont Fight the Funk... Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On

A year ago when I turned 29 I started contemplating the inexorable shift from my 20's into my 30's. I had only one year left to enjoy my twenties and I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties, take a good honest look at myself, and make peace with the whole package. I even made an actual list of things I'd never be great at (Don't Fight the Funk post.) I do love my lists! Even if they are self deprecating and slightly neurotic. I admitted that I'll probably never be great at doing my own hair and makeup, relaxing in an unkempt house or making snap decisions.  I even owned up to being a blurter and an open book. But I left out how I can't dance and how impatient I am and well...lots and lots of other things. It was more of a rough draft, really, than an all inclusive list.

So now a whole year has passed since these musings and that inexorable shift has happened. Its here. I've been 30 for four entire days now. Which basically makes me an expert. (Sarcasm here should be implicit. And if it's not, y'all are reading the wrong blog)

So I've had a whole year to get on board with this turning 30 business, and I've done an acceptable job of it I guess. I understand it's the end of an era. I can appreciate that. On the whole, Im content with my twenties. I entered them with a better figure and fewer wrinkles but I left them with a husband and two tiny tenders that have captured my heart and run away with it. It may have taken the better part of a decade, but I've gained a truer knowledge of who I am,  a clearer understanding of what Im about, and a closer relationship with my God. I'm more comfortable in my own skin. I care less what other people think. I listen more to my gut and my conscience. I appreciate more.

Ok. Not too shabby.

Except...

There's this whole gaggle of things I still desperately want to change! I want to have more gumption. I want to be more fearless. I want to be more positive. I want to speak less and listen more. I want to show more grace, even when it goes against the grain. Good Lord, I want to worry less! I want to get this uncooperative 30 year old body right and tight again. I want to have more fun with my kids. I want to loosen up. And good grief,  I want to learn how to do my hair and makeup already!

So Im thinking maybe there's some holy grail of a middle ground here? Not striving or fussing over the things that you can never change, while making a genuine effort to work on the things you can?
I guess I have the next decade to find out. Then at 40 I can re-evaluate and go ahead and have a mid-life crisis if I need to.

In the meantime, I HAVE branched out a little bit. I bought a curling iron and some eyeshadow, locked myself in the bathroom, and decided I wasnt coming out until I learned a thing or two. I emerged 3 hours later with a kink in my neck, a few burn marks, and slightly sweaty and highly irritable-  but all in all I'd say it was a success. I've learned how to do a smokey eye and sufficiently wield a curling wand...and on some days its even kind to me.

Husband and I even went dancing! I curled my hair, fumbled with some makeup, and even put on a little black dress. We were going out on the town! I used to be able to dance. Years ago. But somewhere along the line I became convinced I'd lost my mojo. But ya know what? I had so much fun! Mojo shmojo. See? Dont we look like we're having fun?

So after turning 30 and taking stock I'm sticking with "Be Who You Are and Own It!" And Im landing somewhere between "Dont Fight The Funk", and "Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On."
 Oh yes, its a real place.

The Thing About Striving...

The thing about striving... is that its often a mistake.

Its been a while since I've sat down to write. Not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. For lack of some positive nugget of substantial worth to share. And Im not in the mood to write about trips and circumstance and...fluff.

 I've sort of been living life in a head-above-water state of mind for the past couple of months. I've been heavy-laden in my heart and in my mind. I've been stressed out. Extremely stressed out. I've been sort of trudging along pushing this load of worry and anxiety and responsibility up this giant hill, straining harder and growing wearier by the day before realizing, something's gotta give. Ever feel like you're a hamster in a wheel? Spinning and spinning and trying so hard, and bless your heart, just not getting to any real destination?

I opened my favorite daily devotional two days ago and was hit by the force of the first few sentences. A truth I could cling to like a life saving anchor when drifting afloat on the waves of my own concerns. It read,

2 Timothy 2:24 "The servant of the Lord must not strive."

"Be careful that you are following Me, and I will care for all else. Striving is for those who have not yet learned to trust Me. Anxiety is the affliction of the self-possessed."

So often as believers, we strive where we ought not.  And in the striving, we become obsessed with our own problems. We worry and fret. Will it work out? Will it get easier? Will I get what I want? We pray, even. We ask and ask for what we think we should have. When really, we should trust. We should rest. We should have the faith to know that our times are in His hands. That if His eye is on the sparrow, then surely it watches over me?

I am not talking about walking around in some kind of ooky-spooky spiritual misty fog. Lord knows each day is filled with its own tasks and realities that require action and courage and forward motion. But is all of the striving really necessary? I think maybe its not. Not always anyway.

Maybe if I excersize a little more faith and a little less concern for my own comforts, I'll live a life of a little more substance. And every little bit counts.

Mambo Italiano

     Its really true, dear readers- We got it! We got another trip! (insert akward air-high-fiving and elbow nudging) But no. Not just any trip. We decided to try our luck this time and go for Europe and by some small (huge) miracle, we got it! It was confirmed two days ago and I am  still in a state of semi- disoriented shock. The happy sort...by all means, the happy sort.

The thing is, we are not these people! The people who take trips to Italy as if its no big deal. Or for that matter, the people who take trips, period.  As I've mentioned HERE and HERE its basically a big fat giant blessing to average people like us. So I am beyond thrilled and, well, lets just be real here- basically about to poop myself with excitement. We get to spend 3 nights in Milan and 3 nights in Florence, Italy! Sweet baby Jesus in a manger! We dont actually leave for 5 months so that's probably (maybe) enough time for me to calm down and behave like a normal person. Husband might have to pack an extra tranquilizer dart in case I get overly excited when we step off the plane and I start to speak incoherently or go crosseyed or something. We cant have that.  (I say "extra" eluding to the fact that he has any tranquilizer darts at all, which alas, is not the case. I just thought I'd give Husby a brooding and mysterious element of danger in today's blog post. Ya know, for fun.) Tranquilizer darts completely aside, Im sure I'll  put my foot in my mouth at least once or have some kind of unfortunate mishap while we're there to tell you about in an Akward and Awesome European Edition. Stay tuned. Meanwhile, I just had to share the good news.

Did I shave my legs for this? Well I did try. I certainly did try.

In my recent post, The Thing With Dinner..., we discussed the mayhem that generally (okay nightly) ensues upon my announcing that dinner is ready.  Maybe this is normal, maybe its not, but its certainly a real thing that happens in our house. Except now Im thinking that there very well may be a THING with the shower too. And phonecalls. Any phonecall. My home could be a perfectly harmonious scene of domestic bliss, but the minute I turn on the shower it flips some imaginary switch in my children's heads. The switch that turns them from Happy to Beastly.

 Its as if kids have a radar for these sort of things, yes? They could be playing/ coloring/ watching a cartoon without a care in the world for where I am or what Im doing, but the second I step into the shower there is, naturally, some kind of dire, desperate "emergency" (as my four year old assures me) that needs my immediate attention. I'll hear a pitter patter of feet and definitive shrieks as they both bolt into the bathroom with some kind of story to tell. "Mommy! Jaxon got pee water out of the toilet and he's putting it in the dog dish!" (Oh yes. You know its true). Or,  "You better hurry- he's coloring on the counter again!" or any number of other ridiculous personal offenses- you know the type- "he's staring at me", "He keeps touching me!", etc etc.  And poor Jax, bless his heart, cant ever seem to get out more than a frustrated "Mommy! No! Bella!" followed by accusatory pointing and  helpless shoulder slumping.

 And its never when Im almost done showering. Its always right as Im soaping up my face and cant see, or right as Im attempting to shave my legs. These same shenanigans seem to apply to whenever my phone rings with an important phonecall. A perfectly quiet room can get turned upside down in ten seconds flat.  I've made peace with the fact that until the kids are a tiny bit older, there really is no sacred place left in the house for a mother. Not even the bathroom. Especially not the bathroom.
This morning Bigger One was off to preschool so I let Littler One play around in my bathroom while I showered. One by one, random objects started to appear at my feet. A rubber band. A bracelet. An earring. He'd found a tiny crack at the bottom of the glass door and was quite please with himself for finding things that would fit through that very spot. Clever boy. I had to chuckle.  So what if I consider it a small personal victory to have shaved the front AND backs of my legs before date night. A victory's a victory. And hey, we can't have it ALL together ALL the time, right?...Right?

Postcards From Paradise

Husband and  I were lucky enough to spend the last glorious week in the Bahamas, on the aptly named Paradise Island. And I have to say, it lived up to its name. It was gorgeous. White sand beaches, the brightest, clearest, turquoise water that just so happened to be the perfect temperature. Amazing food (shocker that that made it at the top of the list, right?). Sunshine. Laughter. Romance. Fun. Sleep. Repeat.
As I explained HERE, this is pretty much a big fat deal to us. Travel is something we both have always wanted to do, but have not always had the time/money/gumption to just go ahead and do. Not very much at least, especially since having kids.  Husband lived in Europe for a year before we dated and has always remembered that time in his life with such fondness that it always gives me a small pang of regret to not have shared in those memories with him. So, Europe aside, we have been beyond thrilled to have earned two vacations (part of Husbands compensation at work) in two years now. As we boarded our plane I thought about how Im a pretty big fan of Edward Jones these days. In fact, if ol Teddy Jones wouldve been there, I might have been obliged to give him a big frencher for coming up with the brilliant idea of this all-expense-paid vacation business! Genius, if you ask me.

So I could go on and on about how wonderful and peaceful and lovely the whole week was and how grateful I am to have had time alone with Husband to just enjoy his company and recharge my batteries. But I thought it'd be a little more fun to sum it up in a little something I like to call  "Akward and Awesome, Bahamian Edition."

AKWARD: Husband and I lying in the shallow water looking for seashells for Bigger One, when a small but ferocious fish out of nowhere bites him directly on the nipple. Which was so funny it made it also a little bit awesome.

AWESOME:  Well, the whole bit.

Taking in the delightfully unfamiliar scenery.

Celebrating being married for 9 years to the man I love. (Awe. Look at him. Isnt he cute?)

Swimming with the dolphins.

Napping under palm trees.

Afternoons spent reading on the beach. (Outlander, no less. Husband by my side, waves in the background, and James Fraser on the page? Me likey.)  Followed by leisurely, candlit dinners that came in courses and lasted for two hours. Bliss.