I took the boys to the post office. We went to buy Christmas stamps. The budget was oh so tight, I shouldn't have been spending another dime, let alone ten bucks on some silly stamps. But I really wanted to send out Christmas cards, and had a determined attitude.
I was feeling sorry for myself. My kids were whining because the line was long and one of my kids let out a big fart and I was a little embarrassed as everyone turned to stare.
Then I saw him. An old man in a wheelchair with a severely disfigured face. Most of his nose was missing. Was he a burn victim? A disabled veteran? I don't know. What I know is I was praying hard for my way too honest four year old to not say anything. But he did.
"Mommy, why is that man's nose so weird?"....came out of his little mouth. I was embarrassed. Wanted to hide. But the man scooted his wheelchair over and smiled. Told us he was sick and the doctor took his nose. That he was lonely most days but today was a good day because he was seeing us and we were cool. Started talking to us about Christmas and Logan's stuffed animal and just everything. Then the man looked right at me.
"Momma, sometime, you should take yourself out for a cup of coffee. Leave the kids with Dad. You could use a break, I can tell by looking at you. It's going to be alright. Just go get some coffee."
Here was a man with what looked like little to be grateful for, speaking encouragement into my life. He didn't know my name. Didn't know that it's a struggle to buy ten dollars worth of stamps right now. He just knew that maybe I needed a little encouragement. I cried a little bit. Told him I would pray for him to have a good Christmas. Told him about our church.
When the boys and I got to the car, I had a good talk with Logan. Told him that it's probably not nice to talk so openly about people's flaws, but that we are all flawed and we can help that man by praying for him to feel loved and to know that Jesus loves him.
I don't know the man's name. Don't know his story. But I know that he is treasured and that he matters. I'm grateful for that ten dollar lesson.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
You made it through
Dear one,
You made it through your first Thanksgiving without her. Without him. Your loved one that passed. Maybe Thanksgiving was a welcomed distraction from the sadness, the heartache. Or maybe it was so hard. Being around so many happy people, people trying to carry on normal conversations with you. Maybe it took every ounce of energy to fake those smiles, to pretend that the grief was not constantly on your shoulder. Maybe the food had no taste in your mouth, maybe you couldn't wait to get back home where everything was at least familiar and you didn't have to pretend.
But you did it. You showed up and you smiled and you hugged and you put nice clothes on and you did it.
And that's amazing.
Maybe you're heart was racing and maybe you had to stop at a park and get some fresh air and just pray for God to give your heart peace.
Yeah, maybe that was you.
And that's amazing too.
Holidays are hard.
It's okay to feel joy.
It's okay to also feel sad and confused and lonely and overwhelmed and guilty for smiling because your loved one is gone.
It's okay.
Hug often. Surround yourself with those that love you. Those that will make you a hot cup of tea and just love you.
And give yourself permission from here on out to avoid situations where people like to stir up strife. It's okay to say no to those events. Guard your heart, dear one.
Christmas is coming. You are going to do just fine. It will be hard. You will be sad. But there is joy to be found, I promise you that much. Take in the lights. The smells. The sounds. Allow yourself to remember. Even if it's been years since your last Christmas together, it's okay to remember.
You made it through your first Thanksgiving without her. Without him. Your loved one that passed. Maybe Thanksgiving was a welcomed distraction from the sadness, the heartache. Or maybe it was so hard. Being around so many happy people, people trying to carry on normal conversations with you. Maybe it took every ounce of energy to fake those smiles, to pretend that the grief was not constantly on your shoulder. Maybe the food had no taste in your mouth, maybe you couldn't wait to get back home where everything was at least familiar and you didn't have to pretend.
But you did it. You showed up and you smiled and you hugged and you put nice clothes on and you did it.
And that's amazing.
Maybe you're heart was racing and maybe you had to stop at a park and get some fresh air and just pray for God to give your heart peace.
Yeah, maybe that was you.
And that's amazing too.
Holidays are hard.
It's okay to feel joy.
It's okay to also feel sad and confused and lonely and overwhelmed and guilty for smiling because your loved one is gone.
It's okay.
Hug often. Surround yourself with those that love you. Those that will make you a hot cup of tea and just love you.
And give yourself permission from here on out to avoid situations where people like to stir up strife. It's okay to say no to those events. Guard your heart, dear one.
Christmas is coming. You are going to do just fine. It will be hard. You will be sad. But there is joy to be found, I promise you that much. Take in the lights. The smells. The sounds. Allow yourself to remember. Even if it's been years since your last Christmas together, it's okay to remember.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Don't call it a party
Our little man turned one. I have no idea how it went so fast. I blinked and now he's a toddler. Cue the violins.
For Logan's first birthday, I went all out. I invited everyone I knew, stayed up into the wee hours of the night planning elaborate party games and making homemade decor. First kid syndrome.
I didn't have it in me to do that this year. Between everything that went on in October, and my constant struggle to get some sleep, I just had no energy for a party.
Instead, I made little man a fun birthday dinner on his actual birthday, and the following Saturday I had two of his little buddies from the nursery (and their families) out to the playground. That's it. No pinatas. No elaborate guest list. None of that hoopla. Just a couple of babies hanging out eating some gluten free cupcakes.
It was quite possibly the best first birthday ever. I was able to really pay attention to everyone. Levi wasn't overwhelmed, because there wasn't a crowd. Just a few little buddies.
I may keep birthdays this way from now on.
Happy to be ONE!
Gluten free cupcakes. Kind of gross, but he loved them!
We love mustaches.
Big brother is growing up!
All smiles
The fabulous Kennedy family.
The dads. All smiling! I love it!
A picture with GG.
Beautiful friends, Jen and Christina.
Happy birthday, sweet Levi! We love you so much!
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
A prayer for the overwhelmed mom
Thank you, Father, for loving me right where I am. Just as I am. 90 something pounds of anxiousness, stress, uncertainty. You love me even though I fail day after day. Even though I'm not a good cook, I can't keep a spotless home, my car keeps breaking, and I say bad words. Even though the future scares the living daylights out of me.
You love me.
And you say I am enough.
Right where I am.
You don't compare me to others.
Because my story is different.
It was always meant to be different.
You knew all along every painful event of 2014, way before I was on this earth.
You've counted every tear, you've understood prayers I couldn't put into words.
You've heard my heart.
You know it all.
And you love me.
I am enough.
Right now.
Not when I get it all together.
Not when our checking account looks better.
Not when I can finally cook fancy meals.
NOW.
I am so grateful for the now.
It seems like everyone else has it all figured out.
I don't.
I'm grateful for a savior who does.
You love me.
And you say I am enough.
Right where I am.
You don't compare me to others.
Because my story is different.
It was always meant to be different.
You knew all along every painful event of 2014, way before I was on this earth.
You've counted every tear, you've understood prayers I couldn't put into words.
You've heard my heart.
You know it all.
And you love me.
I am enough.
Right now.
Not when I get it all together.
Not when our checking account looks better.
Not when I can finally cook fancy meals.
NOW.
I am so grateful for the now.
It seems like everyone else has it all figured out.
I don't.
I'm grateful for a savior who does.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Guest Star Tuesday
I read this today and it changed my whole outlook. Be encouraged by her words today!
Monday, October 20, 2014
Like an elephant on the chest
I don't know how to write this, but I know I need to.
Two weeks and a couple of days ago, my dad died in his sleep.
We didn't know he had cancer. He didn't know.
I was walking around the lake with my husband, my kids and my in-laws when I got the call from my brother. My knees buckled and I let myself fall to the ground.
Dad was gone. I sobbed. Right in the middle of a crowded park. People asked if I was okay. I didn't even notice them.
Dad was handsome. Dad was brilliant.
Dad was an alcoholic for most of my life.
Dad and I hadn't seen each other in nearly six years.
Dad knew I loved him. I loved him so much, in fact, that it ate me up inside to see him in such sorrow. About four years ago, I told him that I loved him too much to see him in such a dark place. I begged him, BEGGED him to get help, but I told him I couldn't save him, HE had to make the choice.
He found a church.
He walked in to a men's group and poured out his heart. Told them he was ready to change. That he couldn't do it on his own.
My dad went from someone who hated church to someone that spoke openly, enthusiastically about a risen Jesus.
My dad spent his last couple of years on this earth feeding the homeless. Volunteering at a women's shelter. Mowing elderly people's lawns.
My dad was a changed man.
My heart breaks for what could have been. I wish we could have hugged and I wish I could have told him how proud I was of him. But as my pastor told me last week, we have all of eternity to make things right.
My heart is so heavy, sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. As C.S. Lewis said, "No one ever told me grief felt so like fear."
I went down and spoke to the men's group that changed his life. I thanked them. We cried together. I felt peace for a little bit. I gave a bunch of hugs to some men I had never met. I felt gratitude. They were the hands and feet of Jesus to him when no one else could be.
I don't think this kind of loss is something to get over. I think we just learn how to carry it.
I'm sad we didn't get to make things right. I'm sad he never got to meet my kids.
But one day, we'll have eternity.
Until then I just have to remember to smile at everyone, because I may be the only light they see that day.
Two weeks and a couple of days ago, my dad died in his sleep.
We didn't know he had cancer. He didn't know.
I was walking around the lake with my husband, my kids and my in-laws when I got the call from my brother. My knees buckled and I let myself fall to the ground.
Dad was gone. I sobbed. Right in the middle of a crowded park. People asked if I was okay. I didn't even notice them.
Dad was handsome. Dad was brilliant.
Dad was an alcoholic for most of my life.
Dad and I hadn't seen each other in nearly six years.
Dad knew I loved him. I loved him so much, in fact, that it ate me up inside to see him in such sorrow. About four years ago, I told him that I loved him too much to see him in such a dark place. I begged him, BEGGED him to get help, but I told him I couldn't save him, HE had to make the choice.
He found a church.
He walked in to a men's group and poured out his heart. Told them he was ready to change. That he couldn't do it on his own.
My dad went from someone who hated church to someone that spoke openly, enthusiastically about a risen Jesus.
My dad spent his last couple of years on this earth feeding the homeless. Volunteering at a women's shelter. Mowing elderly people's lawns.
My dad was a changed man.
My heart breaks for what could have been. I wish we could have hugged and I wish I could have told him how proud I was of him. But as my pastor told me last week, we have all of eternity to make things right.
My heart is so heavy, sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. As C.S. Lewis said, "No one ever told me grief felt so like fear."
I went down and spoke to the men's group that changed his life. I thanked them. We cried together. I felt peace for a little bit. I gave a bunch of hugs to some men I had never met. I felt gratitude. They were the hands and feet of Jesus to him when no one else could be.
I don't think this kind of loss is something to get over. I think we just learn how to carry it.
I'm sad we didn't get to make things right. I'm sad he never got to meet my kids.
But one day, we'll have eternity.
Until then I just have to remember to smile at everyone, because I may be the only light they see that day.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Our life, in tangents
Blogging was easier before I had two kids. I used to write long, artsy posts about my innermost thoughts....no time for that anymore. Here's life in 10 little tangents:
-We had the stomach flu this past week. Thankful it happened while we still have our insurance, thankful for an awesome pediatrician and thankful that it seems to be gone now.
-When you don't sleep, everything will make you cry. This applies to the 29 year old as well as the 4 year old.
-2 kids may not seem like a lot, but it's been a whole different ball game than 1. There is always someone needing me, always a snack to prepare or a diaper to change or a bath to draw or a book to read or tiny laundry to do....I have never felt as needed as I do now. Or as tired. Or as fulfilled.
-It's been one of the most expensive months ever for team Gable. Between my dental work and my car breaking down and doctor's visits...we are having to get frugal like never before. We've also been so blessed at how God has provided.
-I'm learning how to say no. I don't have to volunteer for everything, I don't have to say yes to everything, and sometimes saying no is the BEST thing for my family. They come first.
-Kitchen remodels take a crazy long time, and they are really, really messy.
-I don't watch much television, but I've recently started watching old episodes of Arrested Development and I am hooked.
-Ben and I haven't been on a date in a year and a half. Unless you count the trip to the hospital to have the baby.
-Homeschooling is going well, but it's different than I thought it would be. Our biggest challenge is handwriting, but I know that's partly because L is only 4. He is very curious and loves learning, but does not necessarily love sitting still.
-I love, LOVE having a baby in the house, and it's going by way too quickly this time around. And I secretly have a tiny bit of baby fever again, although I don't think another Gable is in the cards for us. I just love babies! All their smooshiness (not a word but it should be) is just nirvana to me.
-We had the stomach flu this past week. Thankful it happened while we still have our insurance, thankful for an awesome pediatrician and thankful that it seems to be gone now.
-When you don't sleep, everything will make you cry. This applies to the 29 year old as well as the 4 year old.
-2 kids may not seem like a lot, but it's been a whole different ball game than 1. There is always someone needing me, always a snack to prepare or a diaper to change or a bath to draw or a book to read or tiny laundry to do....I have never felt as needed as I do now. Or as tired. Or as fulfilled.
-It's been one of the most expensive months ever for team Gable. Between my dental work and my car breaking down and doctor's visits...we are having to get frugal like never before. We've also been so blessed at how God has provided.
-I'm learning how to say no. I don't have to volunteer for everything, I don't have to say yes to everything, and sometimes saying no is the BEST thing for my family. They come first.
-Kitchen remodels take a crazy long time, and they are really, really messy.
-I don't watch much television, but I've recently started watching old episodes of Arrested Development and I am hooked.
-Ben and I haven't been on a date in a year and a half. Unless you count the trip to the hospital to have the baby.
-Homeschooling is going well, but it's different than I thought it would be. Our biggest challenge is handwriting, but I know that's partly because L is only 4. He is very curious and loves learning, but does not necessarily love sitting still.
-I love, LOVE having a baby in the house, and it's going by way too quickly this time around. And I secretly have a tiny bit of baby fever again, although I don't think another Gable is in the cards for us. I just love babies! All their smooshiness (not a word but it should be) is just nirvana to me.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
When you find yourself crying in your in-law's guest room
Labor Day weekend started out innocently enough. Logan had had a sleepover at Ben's parent's house, so we went over Saturday morning to get him. He had a stellar time and didn't miss us one bit. "Just the baby" he told us time and time again (thanks, kid:) ). We got some home projects done, I mowed the grass, it was a boring, hot Saturday. Sunday we went to church, out to lunch with lovely new friends, and worked on the house some more. MONDAY, ugh. Monday. Labor Day. May I have a do-over please? Monday just needs to be forgotten.
I had been up all night with Levi, who kept crying due to that top tooth that just won't pop through. One a.m. Three a.m. Five a.m. So I was already a little grumpy. We had the brilliant idea to drive to Orlando to get some tile from a discount tile store, because we're redoing our kitchen and our budget is peanuts but we really want to sell this place. So we went. And we bought 75 dollars worth of slate. Which looks pretty cool actually. Well, the cart was too heavy for me to push, so Ben went to pull the van around. He came back five minutes later without the van. He said we had a problem. That's never good to hear him say. Our van was broken, the part was roughly 350 dollars and if we didn't get it the van just wouldn't work again.
Now, we had our boys with us. And it was hotter than Hades. Trust me. The boys were sweating, Levi was crying, and I was worrying.
Bless his heart, Ben's dad came to rescue us. He towed us all the way to his house. I sat in the back seat of his van and thought "Don't you dare cry in your father-in-law's van. He didn't ask for this. He is helping you. Pull it together, Gable."
So I didn't. I waited until we got to their house, I walked back to the guest room, and I bawled my eyes out. It wasn't just the stupid part for the car or the heat or the embarrassment of breaking down once again. It was a million little things. It's been a rough year. Hospital bills. My teeth. The gluten allergy that we didn't even know about. The no sleep. The lack of money. The lady at the dentist that made a pass at my husband when I was RIGHT THERE (another post). I just couldn't hold it together anymore. Ben walked in and asked what was wrong. I had no words, really. Sometimes you don't. The funny part came when my brother-in-law burst in, looking for an exercise ball and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us crying. I laughed. He laughed. It made everything better somehow.
The other humorous thing.....we were dressed.....like we maybe shouldn't be at Ben's parent's house. They were having a dinner party and we essentially crashed it. Ben was wearing a shirt with no sides and cutoffs. You could see his tattoos and all the grease all over him from working on the van. I was wearing tight jeans and a zebra print tube top. I kid you not. The counselor said I need to make an effort in how I dress for Ben because not caring about my appearance is NOT helping ( I guess no makeup and gym shorts are no longer cute). SO I was dressed like maybe I should be anywhere but my conservative in-law's house. Oh, and the kids? Well, Levi pooped through his two outfits we had packed for the quick trip to Orlando. Logan was covered in chocolate milk. We were a sight.
I'm not sure what the point to this post was, except to say that when you're feeling overwhelmed, it's okay to cry in your in-law's guest room until you get it all out. And maybe, if you're pushing thirty, just say no to the zebra print tube top from Wal Mart. You're not doing yourself any favors.
I had been up all night with Levi, who kept crying due to that top tooth that just won't pop through. One a.m. Three a.m. Five a.m. So I was already a little grumpy. We had the brilliant idea to drive to Orlando to get some tile from a discount tile store, because we're redoing our kitchen and our budget is peanuts but we really want to sell this place. So we went. And we bought 75 dollars worth of slate. Which looks pretty cool actually. Well, the cart was too heavy for me to push, so Ben went to pull the van around. He came back five minutes later without the van. He said we had a problem. That's never good to hear him say. Our van was broken, the part was roughly 350 dollars and if we didn't get it the van just wouldn't work again.
Now, we had our boys with us. And it was hotter than Hades. Trust me. The boys were sweating, Levi was crying, and I was worrying.
Bless his heart, Ben's dad came to rescue us. He towed us all the way to his house. I sat in the back seat of his van and thought "Don't you dare cry in your father-in-law's van. He didn't ask for this. He is helping you. Pull it together, Gable."
So I didn't. I waited until we got to their house, I walked back to the guest room, and I bawled my eyes out. It wasn't just the stupid part for the car or the heat or the embarrassment of breaking down once again. It was a million little things. It's been a rough year. Hospital bills. My teeth. The gluten allergy that we didn't even know about. The no sleep. The lack of money. The lady at the dentist that made a pass at my husband when I was RIGHT THERE (another post). I just couldn't hold it together anymore. Ben walked in and asked what was wrong. I had no words, really. Sometimes you don't. The funny part came when my brother-in-law burst in, looking for an exercise ball and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us crying. I laughed. He laughed. It made everything better somehow.
The other humorous thing.....we were dressed.....like we maybe shouldn't be at Ben's parent's house. They were having a dinner party and we essentially crashed it. Ben was wearing a shirt with no sides and cutoffs. You could see his tattoos and all the grease all over him from working on the van. I was wearing tight jeans and a zebra print tube top. I kid you not. The counselor said I need to make an effort in how I dress for Ben because not caring about my appearance is NOT helping ( I guess no makeup and gym shorts are no longer cute). SO I was dressed like maybe I should be anywhere but my conservative in-law's house. Oh, and the kids? Well, Levi pooped through his two outfits we had packed for the quick trip to Orlando. Logan was covered in chocolate milk. We were a sight.
I'm not sure what the point to this post was, except to say that when you're feeling overwhelmed, it's okay to cry in your in-law's guest room until you get it all out. And maybe, if you're pushing thirty, just say no to the zebra print tube top from Wal Mart. You're not doing yourself any favors.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Getting into the swing of things
Operation Homeschool is off to a great start. We started in July actually, because it's way too hot to be outside for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Every day Logan does some work in his workbook (I bought him a Kindergarten one rather than a preschool one, because they are pretty much the same), we read two stories (which little brother seems to be enjoying also), we do some chalkboard work, he builds with his legos, and we have an outing. One day a week we go to the library, one day we go to our church co-op, and one day we usually get together with other homeschooling friends. I am amazed at how awesome my little guy is doing. He is hungry to learn, and that makes me happy.
I am guilty of something though: Yesterday was the first day of school for many of our public school friends. I saw so many pictures of little preschoolers in their first day of school outfits holding little chalkboards, and I had a tiny panic attack. It went a little like this:
Oh my gosh, we're really homeschooling. He's not in VPK. We're really doing this. What if this is the wrong decision? What if he hates me someday because I homeschooled him for preschool and he ends up with a complex? What if he resents me? I thought I made the right decision, but everyone else is doing things differently and why couldn't we just do what they did? What am I doing? Who am I to think I can homeschool?!?!?!?
So I texted my beautiful homeschooling friend Christina and freaked out. She is so amazing, she was able to assure me that my kid is going to be fine and to lighten up a little because hey, it's preschool. Seriously, every mom needs a friend like her. Although I am pretty sure she's part robot because her house is always perfect and she's an amazing cook. But I still love her.
I am so excited for all that we are learning this year. I have all sorts of plans for this fall, including making our own ice cream, starting our fall garden and (gulp) helping my friend start a brand new co-op for our church. All while trying to fit in a kitchen remodel, putting our home up for sale, and raising my baby boy, who is also growing up entirely too fast.
I'm very much looking forward to Christmas break!
I am guilty of something though: Yesterday was the first day of school for many of our public school friends. I saw so many pictures of little preschoolers in their first day of school outfits holding little chalkboards, and I had a tiny panic attack. It went a little like this:
Oh my gosh, we're really homeschooling. He's not in VPK. We're really doing this. What if this is the wrong decision? What if he hates me someday because I homeschooled him for preschool and he ends up with a complex? What if he resents me? I thought I made the right decision, but everyone else is doing things differently and why couldn't we just do what they did? What am I doing? Who am I to think I can homeschool?!?!?!?
So I texted my beautiful homeschooling friend Christina and freaked out. She is so amazing, she was able to assure me that my kid is going to be fine and to lighten up a little because hey, it's preschool. Seriously, every mom needs a friend like her. Although I am pretty sure she's part robot because her house is always perfect and she's an amazing cook. But I still love her.
I am so excited for all that we are learning this year. I have all sorts of plans for this fall, including making our own ice cream, starting our fall garden and (gulp) helping my friend start a brand new co-op for our church. All while trying to fit in a kitchen remodel, putting our home up for sale, and raising my baby boy, who is also growing up entirely too fast.
I'm very much looking forward to Christmas break!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
We're homeschooling. There, I said it.
My little four year old is starting preschool. Which may sound completely normal, except for one tiny detail: I'm his teacher.
Granted, homeschooling is a lot less controversial than it used to be. It's gaining in popularity as parents are becoming less impressed with the public school system. I am one such parent.
I love teaching my son. At four, he is reading, writing, spelling, and has a general love for knowledge. He has multiple best friends, loves going to Sunday school and loves his co-op classes.
We go to the zoo about three times a month, and every trip to the grocery store is another chance to teach him about math, nutrition, and the importance of anti-bacterial cart wipes. He knows about weather and the intricate details of a car engine (thanks to his daddy) and that too much sugar can lead to cavities. He's a genius, in my totally biased opinion.
My husband and I are in agreement that we will take this year by year, but for now, this is what works for us and we're happy with our choices.
I've gotten a lot of flack for this particular choice, but as I have said since the day I became a parent, what works for us may not work for you, and that's okay. There's room for diversity.
I used to worry a lot about what people would think about our decision to homeschool. I thought if I didn't do everything the way everyone else did, I'd look like a sub-par parent. But gone are those days. I am finally comfortable with my choices, and I am gaining confidence that I actually DO know what's best for my kids. If you don't like homeschooling, then don't homeschool. But we have joy about this and we are grateful for this wonderful season of life.
I love teaching my son. At four, he is reading, writing, spelling, and has a general love for knowledge. He has multiple best friends, loves going to Sunday school and loves his co-op classes.
We go to the zoo about three times a month, and every trip to the grocery store is another chance to teach him about math, nutrition, and the importance of anti-bacterial cart wipes. He knows about weather and the intricate details of a car engine (thanks to his daddy) and that too much sugar can lead to cavities. He's a genius, in my totally biased opinion.
I've gotten a lot of flack for this particular choice, but as I have said since the day I became a parent, what works for us may not work for you, and that's okay. There's room for diversity.
I used to worry a lot about what people would think about our decision to homeschool. I thought if I didn't do everything the way everyone else did, I'd look like a sub-par parent. But gone are those days. I am finally comfortable with my choices, and I am gaining confidence that I actually DO know what's best for my kids. If you don't like homeschooling, then don't homeschool. But we have joy about this and we are grateful for this wonderful season of life.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Keep calm and go to Hobby Lobby
Sleep training. Teething. A growth spurt. All in the same week. It's the perfect storm, really. We've been trying to convince little Levi that sleeping in his own crib is fabulous. That all the cool babies are doing it, and that he will wake up so refreshed if only he rests his little head down on that adorable gray and white chevron crib sheet that I so tastefully picked out to match his gray and yellow chevron room that he never sleeps in.
I'm exhausted. He's decided that he will only sleep when I am holding him, and even then I have to be walking around or doing lunges or something similar. Jillian Michaels would be so proud. There was a time, I think 2:30 am, when I said to him "Sweetheart. I am tired. You are tired. We're all tired. Let's just be reasonable about this and go to sleep." And he looked at me with those pretty eyes and cussed me out. Not really. He only says dada and hey. But the WAY he said it, oh boy. He was mad.
I called Ben at work and just cried. He doesn't like me, I said. I have to go back to work and you can be the stay at home parent because I am a failure and I am so exhausted and I broke the pack-n-play because yes, I put my grown up self in it to show our angel that pack-n-plays can be fun for naps too.
To which my husband replied "You what? Pack-n-plays are not for adults. I mean, why don't you go to Hobby Lobby? The boys will like the change of scenery. Go buy something pretty. Not for them, for you. It'll be okay. And babe? Maybe stop trying to fit into Levi's things. You're an adult. I know you're small, but you're not an infant."
What, you and your husband haven't had the exact conversation?
Anyway. The kids and I went to Hobby Lobby. And you know what? They were perfect. Levi loved all the lights and sounds, and Lo loved pretending the cart was a spaceship. I bought some crafting supplies and kind of forgot about how weary I was. It was SO NICE.
Now the way home? That's a different, crying filled story (why do babies loathe car seats so much?). But for the hour we were in there, walking around, up and down every aisle, we were great. I may need to go there every day from now until he stops cutting teeth. You're welcome to join me :)
I'm exhausted. He's decided that he will only sleep when I am holding him, and even then I have to be walking around or doing lunges or something similar. Jillian Michaels would be so proud. There was a time, I think 2:30 am, when I said to him "Sweetheart. I am tired. You are tired. We're all tired. Let's just be reasonable about this and go to sleep." And he looked at me with those pretty eyes and cussed me out. Not really. He only says dada and hey. But the WAY he said it, oh boy. He was mad.
I called Ben at work and just cried. He doesn't like me, I said. I have to go back to work and you can be the stay at home parent because I am a failure and I am so exhausted and I broke the pack-n-play because yes, I put my grown up self in it to show our angel that pack-n-plays can be fun for naps too.
To which my husband replied "You what? Pack-n-plays are not for adults. I mean, why don't you go to Hobby Lobby? The boys will like the change of scenery. Go buy something pretty. Not for them, for you. It'll be okay. And babe? Maybe stop trying to fit into Levi's things. You're an adult. I know you're small, but you're not an infant."
What, you and your husband haven't had the exact conversation?
Anyway. The kids and I went to Hobby Lobby. And you know what? They were perfect. Levi loved all the lights and sounds, and Lo loved pretending the cart was a spaceship. I bought some crafting supplies and kind of forgot about how weary I was. It was SO NICE.
Now the way home? That's a different, crying filled story (why do babies loathe car seats so much?). But for the hour we were in there, walking around, up and down every aisle, we were great. I may need to go there every day from now until he stops cutting teeth. You're welcome to join me :)
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Just do the next thing
Confession: I get overwhelmed easily. I love a good to-do list as much as the next mom, but I tend to feel bummed when I can't get everything done. I'm a big picture kind of girl in that I often look ahead to what the next month and year will bring and what I need to do to get there, but I am also very detail oriented in that I like things done right. This is a recipe for disaster sometimes.
Back in February I learned that I was having some health issues. I'll spare most of the embarrassing details, but what I learned from my doctor was that I was not absorbing nutrients. I was losing weight, my teeth were crumbling, and I had gout. GOUT! I'm way too young for that.
Anyway, I learned that I needed to completely change my diet. I had to cut out what my body couldn't absorb and focus on whole, healing foods. I got a lot of flack for jumping on the "gluten-free hippie bandwagon," but when your dentist wants to charge you six grand to fix your mouth, you start to research more frugal options. I decided to ignore the nay-sayers and focus on what I could fix.
I had no idea where to begin. But now, months later, I'm doing better. It was completely overwhelming to replace all of the yummy foods I enjoy ( I love me some processed foods, I won't lie), so I had to just focus on one meal at a time.
Similarly, when my four year old feels overwhelmed about something (and because he's four, this happens often) I give him the same advice. One thing at a time. Pick up one toy at a time, and before you know it, your room will be clean (with some guided help from mom and dad, of course). When he doesn't want to eat his dinner, I change it to one bite at a time. I always joke with him. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. And then he looks at me like I have three heads.
(No worries PETA, we would never eat an elephant, they are way too cute and wrinkly).
These days, I am taking this advice to heart. I get overwhelmed easily with the future. Will we ever get this house fixed up enough to sell and move back to Orlando (my dream)? Will my health get back to a good place through my efforts or is it all down here from here? Will I ever be able to stop worrying about all of life's what ifs? I believe the answer to all of these questions is yes, just as long as I take things one tiny bite at a time. Just do the next thing. Don't focus too much on a vague future, because it'll probably be different than I imagine anyway.
So today, my baby steps are to keep my kids fed and healthy, research healthy recipes I can make that ALL of us will like (and then actually make them, fingers crossed), fight the losing battle of keeping this house clean (I won't give up! Even if it is like brushing my teeth while eating ice cream) and hold and nurse a sweet little baby who is currently teething like it's his job.
Here's to the next thing.
Back in February I learned that I was having some health issues. I'll spare most of the embarrassing details, but what I learned from my doctor was that I was not absorbing nutrients. I was losing weight, my teeth were crumbling, and I had gout. GOUT! I'm way too young for that.
Anyway, I learned that I needed to completely change my diet. I had to cut out what my body couldn't absorb and focus on whole, healing foods. I got a lot of flack for jumping on the "gluten-free hippie bandwagon," but when your dentist wants to charge you six grand to fix your mouth, you start to research more frugal options. I decided to ignore the nay-sayers and focus on what I could fix.
I had no idea where to begin. But now, months later, I'm doing better. It was completely overwhelming to replace all of the yummy foods I enjoy ( I love me some processed foods, I won't lie), so I had to just focus on one meal at a time.
Similarly, when my four year old feels overwhelmed about something (and because he's four, this happens often) I give him the same advice. One thing at a time. Pick up one toy at a time, and before you know it, your room will be clean (with some guided help from mom and dad, of course). When he doesn't want to eat his dinner, I change it to one bite at a time. I always joke with him. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. And then he looks at me like I have three heads.
(No worries PETA, we would never eat an elephant, they are way too cute and wrinkly).
These days, I am taking this advice to heart. I get overwhelmed easily with the future. Will we ever get this house fixed up enough to sell and move back to Orlando (my dream)? Will my health get back to a good place through my efforts or is it all down here from here? Will I ever be able to stop worrying about all of life's what ifs? I believe the answer to all of these questions is yes, just as long as I take things one tiny bite at a time. Just do the next thing. Don't focus too much on a vague future, because it'll probably be different than I imagine anyway.
So today, my baby steps are to keep my kids fed and healthy, research healthy recipes I can make that ALL of us will like (and then actually make them, fingers crossed), fight the losing battle of keeping this house clean (I won't give up! Even if it is like brushing my teeth while eating ice cream) and hold and nurse a sweet little baby who is currently teething like it's his job.
Here's to the next thing.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Sewing machines are for boys too
When you start dating at 17, you don't usually think "I'm going to marry this boy someday. He's going to be the father of my children and change the oil in my van and set up the wifi because I have no idea how a router works." If you're like I was, you think "Wow, he's cute. He's got a great smile. And he's just a tad bit of a smart butt and I like it."
It's weird. We're almost 30 and when I look back at who we both were when we started dating, I realize that we were babies. SO young. But we certainly didn't FEEL young. We felt mature. Wise. And maybe we were. But we were also babies.
We dated for nearly three years before we got married. We knew it was the next right step, and yet, it was a bit of a shock once the honeymoon was over and we realized that sharing a life with someone is a learning experience to say the least. I was a horrible cook. I wanted babies. He usually smelled like car parts. He didn't want babies. We were opposites. And a little confused as to how to mesh our personalities and interests and goals (it had seemed so easy when we were dating and all we did was go to the movies and hang out a lot). But, a lot of things worked themselves out over time. We both realized that we can't do this without God as the center of our relationship. I've learned to cook and meal plan and do his laundry correctly. We have the two most beautiful kiddos I've ever known (not that I'm at all biased). He's the BEST daddy. Gentle and kind and protective and fun. He brings so much joy to our home.
Yesterday, our four year old decided he needed a hammock for his stuffed animals (he has at least 20, and he just can't bear to give one away). I was going to research doll hammocks online to see if we could afford one right now. But Ben one-upped me. 20 minutes later, he had sewn a camouflage doll hammock for Logan's room, and Logan was to the moon excited. I watched my husband sew this hammock for our boy, and it got me thinking about how funny time is. 12 years ago I would've never thought that that super cool guy I was dating, the one with the extensive Beastie Boys cd collection and the fancy red car would someday be sewing a doll hammock in the kitchen. Just because our kid wanted something for his bears to sleep in. It made me grateful. Grateful for the heart of this guy I've spent more than a third of my life with. And it made me laugh at how many silly disagreements we've had over the years and how really, it all comes down to one thing: our hearts. Our hearts for the Lord and for each other and for our family and for the people God's placed in our life together. I've seen this guy's heart, and it's really big. And I am grateful.
It's weird. We're almost 30 and when I look back at who we both were when we started dating, I realize that we were babies. SO young. But we certainly didn't FEEL young. We felt mature. Wise. And maybe we were. But we were also babies.
We dated for nearly three years before we got married. We knew it was the next right step, and yet, it was a bit of a shock once the honeymoon was over and we realized that sharing a life with someone is a learning experience to say the least. I was a horrible cook. I wanted babies. He usually smelled like car parts. He didn't want babies. We were opposites. And a little confused as to how to mesh our personalities and interests and goals (it had seemed so easy when we were dating and all we did was go to the movies and hang out a lot). But, a lot of things worked themselves out over time. We both realized that we can't do this without God as the center of our relationship. I've learned to cook and meal plan and do his laundry correctly. We have the two most beautiful kiddos I've ever known (not that I'm at all biased). He's the BEST daddy. Gentle and kind and protective and fun. He brings so much joy to our home.
Yesterday, our four year old decided he needed a hammock for his stuffed animals (he has at least 20, and he just can't bear to give one away). I was going to research doll hammocks online to see if we could afford one right now. But Ben one-upped me. 20 minutes later, he had sewn a camouflage doll hammock for Logan's room, and Logan was to the moon excited. I watched my husband sew this hammock for our boy, and it got me thinking about how funny time is. 12 years ago I would've never thought that that super cool guy I was dating, the one with the extensive Beastie Boys cd collection and the fancy red car would someday be sewing a doll hammock in the kitchen. Just because our kid wanted something for his bears to sleep in. It made me grateful. Grateful for the heart of this guy I've spent more than a third of my life with. And it made me laugh at how many silly disagreements we've had over the years and how really, it all comes down to one thing: our hearts. Our hearts for the Lord and for each other and for our family and for the people God's placed in our life together. I've seen this guy's heart, and it's really big. And I am grateful.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Immeasurably More
A few months ago I was feeling pretty low. I had some friendships that for whatever reason, were fading. Ladies I once felt incredibly close to were drifting out of my life, and I took it upon myself to obsess over it.
Obviously I must be the problem. I don't have my stuff together. I walk around most days feeling like a big mess. My nails are usually chipped (it does no good to buy the expensive Essie nail polish if you aren't actually going to take the time to use it). My house is....lived in. THOROUGHLY lived in. My car is older than....well it's older than pretty much everything. So, yeah. I don't have it all together. Maybe THIS is why those friendships faded. Maybe they finally caught on that Angela is a hot mess.
I started to pray.
God, do YOU think I'm a hot mess? DO you think I'm a loser because I don't have it all together? Are you embarrassed by me? Am I a bad testimony to what a relationship with you actually looks like? Because I feel like if I only had it all together, I'd have more friends. Jesus, show me how YOU see me. Show me where I need to improve.
What happened next is nothing short of hilarious. Don't ever say God doesn't have a sense of humor. God opened the floodgates, so to speak. I started volunteering at my church, and the friends came pouring out (weird visual, but just go with it). Families started to ask MY little family to hang out. They wanted to hang out with not just me, but my husband too! We started really doing life with awesome, AWESOME people, whose nail polish was also chipped. I mean, probably. I didn't actually check out their nails. But I'd like to think so. Friends started texting me every day (yes, that's right, I text now. Welcome to the 21st century, Angela). God's done immeasurably more than I could ever imagine, just like the verse says. It's gotten to the point that a quiet day with just the boys and I is a rarity. I may have to scale back a bit.
So here's what I learned through my little freak out. Yes, I'm a mess. But God's cool with it. Because everyone else is a mess too, apparently (I'm on to you! :) It's wonderful to get to do life with other people who don't have it all together. And be careful what you pray for. Because God's in the business of surpassing expectations.
Obviously I must be the problem. I don't have my stuff together. I walk around most days feeling like a big mess. My nails are usually chipped (it does no good to buy the expensive Essie nail polish if you aren't actually going to take the time to use it). My house is....lived in. THOROUGHLY lived in. My car is older than....well it's older than pretty much everything. So, yeah. I don't have it all together. Maybe THIS is why those friendships faded. Maybe they finally caught on that Angela is a hot mess.
I started to pray.
God, do YOU think I'm a hot mess? DO you think I'm a loser because I don't have it all together? Are you embarrassed by me? Am I a bad testimony to what a relationship with you actually looks like? Because I feel like if I only had it all together, I'd have more friends. Jesus, show me how YOU see me. Show me where I need to improve.
What happened next is nothing short of hilarious. Don't ever say God doesn't have a sense of humor. God opened the floodgates, so to speak. I started volunteering at my church, and the friends came pouring out (weird visual, but just go with it). Families started to ask MY little family to hang out. They wanted to hang out with not just me, but my husband too! We started really doing life with awesome, AWESOME people, whose nail polish was also chipped. I mean, probably. I didn't actually check out their nails. But I'd like to think so. Friends started texting me every day (yes, that's right, I text now. Welcome to the 21st century, Angela). God's done immeasurably more than I could ever imagine, just like the verse says. It's gotten to the point that a quiet day with just the boys and I is a rarity. I may have to scale back a bit.
So here's what I learned through my little freak out. Yes, I'm a mess. But God's cool with it. Because everyone else is a mess too, apparently (I'm on to you! :) It's wonderful to get to do life with other people who don't have it all together. And be careful what you pray for. Because God's in the business of surpassing expectations.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Boy mom
I'm a boy mom. What's a boy mom, you ask? Well, quite simply, it's a mom of boys. Just boys in my case. As a little girl, I always assumed I'd be a girl mom. Because I'm a girl and I like to paint my nails and wear makeup and stuff. I grew up with three brothers though. And a sister, but she was kind of a tomboy, so she wouldn't let me put makeup on her either.
When I had my first boy four years ago, I wondered if I'd know what to do with him. Would I know how to play in the dirt and be interested in cars and think burps were funny? Yes, no, and sometimes, depending on the location.
Now that I have my second boy, I'm realizing that God made me for this. He made me to be momma to these precious boys. He made me realize that boys can be just as much fun as girls. Would I love to have a little girl someday? Of course. But if I don't, I know in my heart that I'm still so blessed to be momma to Levi and Logan.
They've taught me to take life a little less seriously. Perfectionism simply cannot exist when you're a boy mom. Those white carpets I once had? Now a dull grey color (I never know which way to spell gray. My English teaching friend says gray in America, grEy in England. So I don't know). In a house full of boys, things just aren't going to look like the cover of House Beautiful. And that's okay. We do real life here and it's messy and it's great.
They've taught me that boys can be just as emotional as girls. My four year old has no problem telling me when someone hurts his feelings. Often if a younger kid takes his toy at church, he will tell me that children make him nervous and uncomfortable. He doesn't trust them. And I try not to laugh, because he's serious.
My boys have taught me many more valuable life lessons, but perhaps the greatest lesson they have taught me so far is grace. I love them both more than life itself, and sometimes they mess up. They fuss and they make messes and they make me contemplate hiding in the bathroom (still haven't tried that yet, although my mom friends say it's the best). But even when I am exhausted from wiping their tears and cleaning their messes and chauffeuring them all across the tri-county area (they have very full social calendars, believe it or not) I know that I love this role more than I ever thought possible. I know that as much as I adore them, God loves them even more. And it's shown me how much God loves me. I mess up a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And God still simply wants my heart. Because I am his child, and he loves me the way I love my boys. And that gives me so much hope on days when I feel like I do nothing but mess up.
So to all you boy moms out there (and girl moms too), let me just tell you that I think you are doing a fabulous job. You are so important and your efforts are not in vain. You are appreciated.
When I had my first boy four years ago, I wondered if I'd know what to do with him. Would I know how to play in the dirt and be interested in cars and think burps were funny? Yes, no, and sometimes, depending on the location.
Now that I have my second boy, I'm realizing that God made me for this. He made me to be momma to these precious boys. He made me realize that boys can be just as much fun as girls. Would I love to have a little girl someday? Of course. But if I don't, I know in my heart that I'm still so blessed to be momma to Levi and Logan.
They've taught me to take life a little less seriously. Perfectionism simply cannot exist when you're a boy mom. Those white carpets I once had? Now a dull grey color (I never know which way to spell gray. My English teaching friend says gray in America, grEy in England. So I don't know). In a house full of boys, things just aren't going to look like the cover of House Beautiful. And that's okay. We do real life here and it's messy and it's great.
They've taught me that boys can be just as emotional as girls. My four year old has no problem telling me when someone hurts his feelings. Often if a younger kid takes his toy at church, he will tell me that children make him nervous and uncomfortable. He doesn't trust them. And I try not to laugh, because he's serious.
My boys have taught me many more valuable life lessons, but perhaps the greatest lesson they have taught me so far is grace. I love them both more than life itself, and sometimes they mess up. They fuss and they make messes and they make me contemplate hiding in the bathroom (still haven't tried that yet, although my mom friends say it's the best). But even when I am exhausted from wiping their tears and cleaning their messes and chauffeuring them all across the tri-county area (they have very full social calendars, believe it or not) I know that I love this role more than I ever thought possible. I know that as much as I adore them, God loves them even more. And it's shown me how much God loves me. I mess up a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And God still simply wants my heart. Because I am his child, and he loves me the way I love my boys. And that gives me so much hope on days when I feel like I do nothing but mess up.
So to all you boy moms out there (and girl moms too), let me just tell you that I think you are doing a fabulous job. You are so important and your efforts are not in vain. You are appreciated.
Monday, June 23, 2014
First post
I've had the same blog for six years. It chronicled some of the most important moments of my life, like the births of my babies, travels with my husband, my first job out of college, buying our first home, and some health issues I've worked through. You know, LIFE. But in March my phone number changed, and Google is so secure that without that old number, I can't get back in to my old blog ( I called. They couldn't help me). SO here I am again. New blog, same author.
Can't wait to share my life with you.
Can't wait to share my life with you.
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