Jordan and I have a spirit of dreaming in our DNA. Wired inside both our hearts and heads, we have this tendency to believe that anything we think up can be grand. We find ourselves constantly talking about the next adventure, the next big idea, and the next big thing. I think when I first met Jordan, one of the things most attractive to me was his desire for MORE, BIGGER, GRANDER, GO! His up for anything attitude mixed with neither of us having much responsibility made it easy to say YES and GO all the time.
Peru, And Staying Put
It was about the middle of March when we started talking about Jordan going to Peru, and me staying put. Addie was barely five months, and for a long time we talked about taking this trip as a family, but when the rubber hit the road, and we really looked at logistics, all signs pointed towards him going, and me staying put.
Our friends, Blake & Sarah, and their four kids work for an organization called Krochet Kids that’s located about an hour outside of Lima. They employ and empower local women with the resources to rise above poverty by providing them with jobs. We wanted to see their family in person, physically support their work, and see their love for these ladies in action. We wanted to go.
This Is Love
I spent this past Saturday stuck at home. Cleaning sheets, doing load after load of laundry, and most of all, loving on a sick little. The stomach bug hit around 2 in the morning in all its splendor. Around the clock nurturing was necessary and sleep became a distant friend for both Jordan and I.
Four years prior, on exactly the same date, June 28th, I was waiting on Samantha to arrive to no avail. Not able to sleep, and frustrated by still being pregnant. This past Saturday, having to cancel the sitter for one of my dearest friends 30th birthdays, I was struck with the reality that this is motherhood. This is it.
The Wait of the Weight
These days, I find myself being bummed out by the wait of loosing my baby weight. Seven months postpartum, and that the number on the scale has been frozen, not thawing down to my desired number. Barely budging, it seems to remind me that there is a weight to the wait.
For awhile now, when it didn’t move, I choose to move along my day in almost rebellion, making bad choices, ordering “out” when “in” was a smarter option. Life with two is hectic, hairy, and my speed-dialed favorites seem quicker to grab, easier to satisfy than grilling up chicken, roasting some sweet potatoes, and cutting up a side salad.
The insubordinate side of me wanted to say to the scale, if your not moving, why work at it anyway? And then the other side of me, the saner side, would acknowledge that the extra effort does pay off in the long run, and prepping dinner instead of a playdate is sometimes the better, healthier choice.
Having goals these days, clear-defined, well-written, season-specific goals are key. I remember seasons before, pre-hubby & pre-kids for example, where eating well, exercise, and balance were simpler, much easier to obtain. No one woke me up in the middle of the night, bedtimes weren’t hostage negotiations and getting up at 5 a.m. to spin was easy breezy.
These days, my priorities have shifted. My family takes precedence to everything else. And I am finding the more I push myself through the pain of being clear on what I want, the clearer I see what it is I truly want. I want to be healthy. I want to be strong. AND I want to be present for my husband and my kids. I want to be more plugged into them then I am plugged into a million other things.
Having goals are great. And yet, I can say that to you and say that to myself until I am blue in the face. All bold with declaration I will announce, yes, goals, yes! And yet, when the rubber hits the road, and the choice of In & Out over a brown rice bowl hit my door, I want to cave. And many times do.
Having goals can be annoying too. I want to reach the goals without any work. I want to wake up and have some self-discipline, and a dose of a good attitude, and get to where I want without planning out, and preparing. It all comes down to one thing: I don’t want to wait to loose my weight.
With my first baby, the weight seemed to fall of quicker. There was less to loose even though I gained about the same during both pregnancies. Maybe its the fact that one was born in the summer, bathing suit season a constant reminder that an apple was a better choice than a brownie.
My second girl, on the other hand was born just days before Halloween. I never realized before the amount of celebrating that goes into the months of November and December until I had Addie. Nearly every day was reason to cheers. We did have a new girl to celebrate after all, and the Holidays were extra magical because of her. Add to that leggings and sweaters, and a girl starts to feel cozy, all caught up in the postpartum dreaminess of new life.
All is good. All is sweet. All was holy. And those months after Addie, I was a bit lost in the magic & mayhem of having another baby. And I guess if I am being honest, as much as I said I would stop eating the minute my second arrived, I knew that wasn’t true.
Food is a love of mine. The tastes and the smells, the kitchen steaming up with something special. The chopping block brings community and conversation, love and laughter to our home.
And what I forgot, is the ravenous hunger that comes along with nursing a child. One of my friends and I agree that nursing hunger is worse than pregnancy hunger. Hunger is greedy with a nursing mother, its demands are high, you are indeed the soul provider for this little life.
As much as I want to admit that I am totally comfortable carrying around an extra ten, {I’m not}, I also realized that it wasn’t just the extra weight that was weighing me down, it was the feeling of being out of control of something I always had been so in control of.
What I thought was the issue {the weight} was really the issue of {the wait}.
And I am kind of sick of feeling so frustrated by it all. The lack of control, the barely budging number, the time its taking. Its hogging too much of my mental space.
So today, I choose to do this: I’m coming to terms with the wait. The wait to the weight in the midst of bathing suit season knocking at the door, and the little pudge over my pants. I am not waving my white flag in surrender that this weight will always be this way. It won’t be, I am hopeful in this. But even if it is, even if its tougher to crack this time than the last, I am choosing kindness over frustration.
It’s going to take some time, all good things do, and in the midst of the wait, its about time to be STOP being so bummed out by the wait. To toss out my expectations, the self-imposed rules and regulations of when it finally needs to “all-fall-off”, to let go of the harsh and hurtful words.
Today, that’s over. Today, I choose grace, goodness me, I need it, and patience most of all. And tomorrow, I choose it all over again. Perseverance too, packaged with passion and my party self, because these things make me whole, and they make the wait that much prettier too.
Stillness & Surfing
The past week, we have had record breaking heat in California. Its May, and take today, it feels like the hottest day we would normally have in late August. What began as a small heat wave, has turned into almost a week of the warmest, blazing, summer like temperatures. Even the beach’s have been on fire, nighty degree’s at 9 a.m.
Twice this week, I have hightailed it down to the shore. I cancelled plans one morning, and the other, plans got cancelled on me. Both newly free mornings I spent down at the beach. Feet in the water, toes in the sand, tanned shoulders as evidence for the past week in So Cal.
My favorite thing about this week has been watching the surfers unpack their boards, toss on their wetsuits, run the sandy path’s down to the ocean line. Their buzzing with excitement, all bursting at the seams to just get their boards and their bottoms in the water. I overheard one surfer calling off his work day, completely clearing his schedule, cell-phone in hand on a Tuesday to stay and surf. My kind of guy.
The thing about surfing that’s caught my eye the most is the stillness that goes into the sport. Years ago, even before high school, before I was old enough to drive a car, I learned to surf. Summer after summer, during my adolescence, I was a “junior-lifeguard” in San Clemente.
It was the best excuse for my mom to force herself to throw out the schedule and the routine, pack up the car, and three times a week, June, July and August, parade down to the pier. Truly some of the best summer memories I have growing up are being a little lifeguard in training, swimming the big wide sea, running, diving, and jumping the pier. Yes, you read that right, they let little elementary age kiddos jump off a pier. Talk about learning from a young age the beauty of learning to squash fear in the face. One jump off that splintered board, and I knew I could conquer just about anything in this life.
One of the neat things too, about all those summers was learning how to surf. Today, if you asked me if I “know how to surf”, I would say “of course”, followed quickly by “not very well”. But, it just goes to show you that learning something when your young gives you a confidence to get back on the horse later on in life.
Its been awhile since I surfed, probably at least a year or two. I think the last time I did was two summers ago, before I got pregnant. But, it my mind, I am still a sudo-surfer. I do believe my days of surfing still exist, maybe once I can do one of two things: a. convince my husband that sand is not the devil, or b. get to a point where the girls are a little older, where they can survive on the sand with me in the sea.
All this week I have been watching the surfers. And they have been watching the waves. Their eyes are trained, completely focused on the next one rolling in. They jump in the water, and run with all their might, diving under one wave to paddle out past the break. They completely become in sync with the waves. They sit, they watch, and they wait.
More than just a few minutes go by before one will catch a wave, and many times it looks like no one is surfing, their all just sitting around. Watching them wait feels less like their trying to lazy, and more like their learning to live. There eyes are trained on what’s next and what’s ahead. Is this the wave they should go for? Or should they wait for the next?
The waves this week weren’t wild, one crashing into another, no stormy gales, they were slow and smooth, so pretty to watch. The waves have been flat this week, tiny, and perfectly formed. Little ripples where if one did decide to catch the wave, they stood with ease and beauty. And watch I did, mesmerized by their method of life in the water.
These surfers are modeling what it means to be still, their mold for living, is becoming a framework for my days. I am chasing down this stillness, and seeing it as a secret to more than just surfing. As cliche as this sounds, as new-agey as it might appear, I am on the hunt for more meaning and less mayhem. And, I think these San Clemente surfers are on to something after all.
The more I sit and wait, the more I quiet my thoughts, and myself, the more I calm the crazy, the better I hear. The better I can decide if I should catch this wave, or wait for the next. Another thing about these surfers, and maybe its just an observation from the shore, but it doesn’t seem like there is too much chitter-chatting going on. For my extroverted self, my talkative nature, the girl that needs to check in with everyone, touch bases, compare decisions, choices and “group think”, I inwardly cringe.
Stillness, and being less co-dependent? Lord, help me. And yet, yes Lord, more of that too. A little more of waiting, and a lot more of leaning into who I am supposed to be than chasing down what everyone wants me to be? Yes, more of that please.
It feels lazy to just sit around. To quiet the inner critic, to silence the need to be more, do more, run more, and just be still. Its scary to not check in with every one of my favorite people {everyone}, and get their opinion, their advice, their direction.
These surfers. There onto something. Their eyes on the waves, their bottoms on the board, their focus towards what might break ahead.
On my way out of San Clemente this week, as I was driving back home, car after car I passed, had surfboard after surfboard attached to their roof racks. I felt like the only car without a board on back and dripping wet wetsuit inside.
I came home and decided that this was the summer of relearning two things: stillness and surfing. June, July, and August, here we come. So since its May, and I have a little time, and with Mothers Day this weekend, instead of perfume and flowers, I have requested a wetsuit and a board. I figure that it will all come back to me, the paddling out, the standing up, the balance of staying up on the board, and riding a wave to the shore.
It’s that stillness thing that I think is going to be the hardest. To work on waiting, to work on sitting, and work on watching the waves. But, I am thinking about the end game at hand. The pulling out of the parking lot, the dripping wet wetsuit in the trunk and the sandy surfboard on my rack. I am thinking about that silly, satisfied surfing grin that all those locals have. I am focused on the drive home, what that will be like, reflecting on the waves I caught that were meant for me, the adventure I had because I stayed still long enough to catch the right wave.
Lost & Found
Two Tuesday’s ago, I lost my earring.
It wasn’t just any ol’ earring either.
Why, oh, why is that the case in missing jewelry?
And in “missing things” in general?
Why, oh, why is that the case in missing jewelry?
And in “missing things” in general?
I decided to wear my diamond hoop earrings around lunch time.
And not just any ol’ diamond hoops either.
Our first anniversary earrings.
Secret Confession:
The anniversary I told Jordan was “diamonds” even though a first year is “paper” I think.
WHO wants paper when they can have diamonds?
But, that’s a whole other topic of course.
I got a sitter for a lunch time date with some girlfriends and some shopping afterwards.
I spent the afternoon all over town. And, when I got home, I put away piles and piles of laundry. When Samantha and decided to play, we went outside.
All over the block. Up and down a million times. We took out every single toy she owns, and trekked through our little street of a town.
It was the kind of afternoon of play that a mother feels satisfied in.
SO much time one-on-one together, and such good energy burned.
We were both going to sleep good!
So, you can imagine as I went upstairs to change for the day, that as I looked upon my ear lobe, and realized I was missing an earring, it was a sinking feeling of grand amounts.
Not only was the earring missing, but I had NO leads.
I had been everywhere that day.
It could be anywhere.
To me, life always goes into “slow motion” in situations like this. Your stomach starts churning, your eyes start burning, and your mind starts running.
Where to begin?
We were running out the door to meet grandma and grandpa for dinner.
I had to hold it together.
I had to call hubby.
I called him, he was on the way home, and then I did a ten minute scramble.
A quick look upstairs, downstairs, and in the dark outside.
I changed. I tried to pull it together.
He could see it on my face. I was so sad. I wanted to call off everything in life to go look for the earring. I could have spent the whole night looking throughout the house, and outside with flood lights. But, that’s how life is, you can’t always call off everything to go in search of the missing piece.
Commitments. Schedules. Plans.
And not bad things, just things.
Hubby reminded me to pray.
I had. The minute I realized the earring was missing I looked at my reflection in the mirror and mumbled, “Lord, please, help me find this. I will give you the Glory.”
I prayed again.
I went to bed that Tuesday night, and prayed some more.
I slept well.
I woke up with the sinking feeling.
You know the one.
You wake up, and you feel like its going to be a great day.
And then you realize, and sink into the sadness, that something has gone wrong.
I realized it.
Oh yes, the earring.
It was still missing.
I left to workout, I told my girlfriends there.
They were so sweet.
And so realistic, mumbling words of “sorry’s” and also, “you probably won’t find it”, and “its gone for good”.
The thing is, I was with them. I agreed. The likelihood of this earring showing up was not high.
They knew what I knew.
It was going to be a search for a needle in a hay stack.
Near impossible.
As I left, it was still early morning. The sun was beginning to rise. I was going to spend the day searching. I was formulating a game plan. And then, God reminded me, as hubby had the night before, HE knew exactly where it was.
It wasn’t a weird voice in the car speaking to me.
It was just a subtle sense that He knew.
So, I prayed.
That’s what God’s subtle senses lead us too.
Trust or Fear.
Surrender or Holding On.
I asked, “Lord, you know exactly where this earring is, Please, Lord, show it to me. I want you to get the Glory for this One. You Will Get the Glory for this one”.
I walked in the door with peace. Samantha was dancing. Jordan was making her laugh. They were making a smoothie and starting the day. I looked around and thought, okay, its in God’s hands now, lets have a good day.
I went to put Samantha in her high chair, reached into the cabinet for a smock, and guess what,
YOU stinking GUESSED IT!
There, underneath the top smock, lying on the bottom smock, was the earring!
Not hidden, but in beyond plain sight. Lying right on top.
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| See that Red Smock, Yup, Underneath That One. |
Jordan was standing next to me.
I started screaming of excitement.
I also started crying in relief, of Joy in God’s provision.
No words can properly put into place what I experienced that morning.
No words can tell you how this to me was not a hokey pokey spiritual thing.
This was God.
All God.
My faith has been so increased by this.
My trust issues have been rocked by this.
God knows. He always knows.
He doesn’t always answer.
If fact, many times He has me waiting for what seems like such unbearable time amounts.
In fact, He still has me waiting on a lot.
The Tale of The Missing Hoop isn’t fake though.
It isn’t the picture you see on Facebook and later find out it was a Phony.
There is nothing Phony Baloney about the Lord.
He answers on His Time Table.
His Plans Are Not Mine, And His Ways are Not My Ways.
And yet, He sometimes answers so quickly, and so swiftly that it takes my breath away.
As in the Case of the Missing Hoop.
He answered something very deep in my soul that morning.
He is the God of the Lost & Found.
The Lord of the Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, & The Lost Son.
He Always Goes After the Lost Things.
Because He Loves Us, Whether We are Lost or Not.
And He Tenderly Finds Us, and Brings Us Back.
And He Gets The Glory for It.
All Of It.
xoxo
Goodmama
CFS: Molly Maid vs. Merry Mama
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| (via) |
Trying to “clean”, “organize”, “put in piles”, “do laundry”, “start dinner” (or should I say “complete dinner”), “respond to emails”, and overall “keep a clean, and warm, and inviting home”
(yes, I just said that phrase, so 1950’s huh?!)
somedays proves to be a challenge.
Oh, shucks, I’ll just be honest, EVERYDAY proves to be a challenge.
Some days we encounter minor hiccups.
Some days we face major meltdowns.
Totally par for the course.
Subject Lines on My Job Description.
Part of being a mama.
Subject Lines on My Job Description.
Part of being a mama.
While I have friends who have children who play happily while their mothers shower
(mine prefers shooting shaving gel all over herself and splashing in the stall with me),
and enjoy really participating in the laundry process (rather than completely destroying the progress I have made), I have semi-come to terms with the fact that this is not my child.
(mine prefers shooting shaving gel all over herself and splashing in the stall with me),
and enjoy really participating in the laundry process (rather than completely destroying the progress I have made), I have semi-
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| Meet Mine. |
She prefers constant activity (the apple doesn’t fall far from the apple tree), and if she were to choose a “acceptable” activity while I go about day to day “house becoming a home” business, she would choose parking herself in front of our large TV downstairs, with the iPad in her hand and my iPhone in the other.
Speaking of Apple.
For the Love.
Speaking of Apple.
For the Love.
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| Her Happy Techy Place. |
So, finding things to do to “keep her busy” while I’m trying to survive beautify our home, sometimes feels like planning a sweet sixteen party.
And not those mellow ones, I’m speaking more along the lines of the kinds you see on MTV.
And speaking of MTV, lets talk about my crib.
And my content battle to keep this place not only looking livable, but feeling lovable as well.
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| Survival Items. |
While some would prescribe to the parenting perspective of encouraging Samantha towards more imaginative play or possibly more independent play, I would say spend thirty minutes in my shoes, and you help come up with solutions to my anti-craft, water obsessed child.
As my brother put it this morning after spending an hour with Samantha, stealing the words completely out of his mouth,
“I am already ready for a nap”.
In my quiet reflections (rare), I sometimes have a good chuckle with the Lord about this sweet dear gift He gave me.
She is so much like me its haunting, and her bent towards all my favorite things (and personality power struggles) proves both the Lord’s sense of humor as well as His desire to develop character in me.
Most challenging thing?
Raising a child just like yourself.
You see all the good & bad through a magnifying glass!
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| Mini-Me. Yes, that is “war-paint” on her cheeks from our “Paint, Paste & Pour Class” Before Nap Time.. |
Yesterday, I attempted some major (three hours of inside time) upstairs & downstairs cleaning. For as little as my little person is, she sure knows how to make a larger than life mess.
I used the Molly Maid approach, of cleaning room to room.
(Is that their approach? If not, I’m claiming it).
(Is that their approach? If not, I’m claiming it).
I would shut the door once the room had been quickly groomed.
The problem was realizing I forgot something in one room, and leaving and coming back to the other to find books tossed over the ocean of clean carpet, folded clothes spread amuck, and cherrios being splashed with her water bottle.
This kid will do anything to involve water in every activity.
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| Occupying the Outside. |
We finally moved downstairs after the upstairs had been cleaned as best as it was going to get and Samantha quickly re-discovered the bag of freeze-dried-trader-joes-blueberries.
Seriously?!!
This Mama’s one word of advice when your child asks for a bag in the store:
RUN.
They stain like crazy, they die everything in sight, and create for a big, BLUE mess.
So, while un-loading and re-loading the dishwasher, I decided to give into this willy wonka like desire.
It was a mess.
Mess+Mess=
Looky Here…MORE MESS.
It was a mess.
Mess+Mess=
Looky Here…MORE MESS.
Solution. Go PLAY OUTSIDE.
Heck, Occupy if for all I care.
Pitch a tent, and get comfy.
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| What…Its cold?? |
She spent the better part of the next half hour post-blue’s pouring water all over our backyard and sitting in her pink pool fully clothed in 65 degree temperatures.
Don’t Judge.
When mama’s say that desperate times call for desperate measures, this my friends was one of these times.
I was super set on getting another load in the wash, and the preceding load folded.
It was one of those days where a really clean house, won out.
FINALLY.
(Says my internal monologue and externally my hubby replied that I am sure).
(Says my internal monologue and externally my hubby replied that I am sure).
I have fought the battle before, and the opposite usually rings true.
Just let it be, I tell myself.
Just let it be, I tell myself.
And, that, is an exercise for me, as well, in letting go.
Daily.
Daily.
Not everything always has to be super perfect and squeakily clean.
But sometimes, its a gosh darn treat to look around and see everything put in there proper spot.
It brings peace to my soul and a smile to my hubby’s face.
I appreciate these little things.
When you “work from home” as I do,
there is a sense of overall peace to this place when its not a pig-pen.
there is a sense of overall peace to this place when its not a pig-pen.
For once, I was set on “getting-her-done” and figuring out anything and everything to occupy this child to achieve the House turning into Home affect.
I leaned into it yesterday, and Molly Maid rubbed off on me a bit,
and I became a bit more Haley Homemaker.
Sometimes, to get “things” done, other “things” have to be let go of.
And while other days, somethings have to be “let go of” for the sake of sanity and our children’s sake’s.
I choose Sanity Yesterday, yup, I admit it.
So the sanity for squeaky clean got in a fight with a toddling toddler, and I think we both won judging by the look on her face sitting in her pink pool with clothes at 4 p.m. yesterday.
I choose Sanity Yesterday, yup, I admit it.
So the sanity for squeaky clean got in a fight with a toddling toddler, and I think we both won judging by the look on her face sitting in her pink pool with clothes at 4 p.m. yesterday.
By the time five p.m. rolls around today, you will probably see only little bits and pieces of Molly Maid’s lasting remnants around here. (Maybe I will shut the door to my master & block off the living room).
Yes, yes, that’s a good solution.
Yes, yes, that’s a good solution.
You will probably more likely see new little “mess’s”-
dishes stacked up prepared with dinner ingredients, loud music playing (my daughter’s preference), water being poured on something, the playroom happily re-cluttered by our daughter, our driveway being covered in chalk, and the washer and dryer humming with yet again another load of wash to be cleaned and clothes to be folded.
dishes stacked up prepared with dinner ingredients, loud music playing (my daughter’s preference), water being poured on something, the playroom happily re-cluttered by our daughter, our driveway being covered in chalk, and the washer and dryer humming with yet again another load of wash to be cleaned and clothes to be folded.
Molly Maid will have long disappeared and Merry Mama will be laughing, leaning into the new piles to clean, clothes to fold, dishes to wash, floor to scrub, and trash to be taken out.
And as I remember lovingly standing in the doorway overlooking a perfectly cleaned home last night, I will look around tonight among the mess, (God Bless IT), and do my best to remember that living is better than cleaning, and life is really all about the hands at my table.
The hands of my HOT :), hardworking hubby I love so much, and the stained blueberry hands of my water-infatuated daughter.
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| Hands. |
My hands, give life to their hands.
Yes, all that scrubbing, changing, holding, cuddling, touching, being, gives them life.
Their hands give life to mine.
They remind me what’s important, what to hold on to, and what to let go of.
Even when their hands turn merry mama into molly maid.
God Bless Them.
Seriously.
Because ultimately, I wouldn’t be merry or a mama without them.
On second thought, maybe Merry Mama has a thing or two to teach Molly Maid.
xoxo
Merry Mama
Confessions from Suburbia: The “Real” Housewives of OC
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| Suburbia. |
It was a long week.
I don’t know about you, but this past week has looked radically different than the week before.
Isn’t it funny what a week will do?
I’m almost laughing thinking about how relaxing the week was.
I kind of recall reading, sunning, relaxing and lounging.
You know, the things us “Real” Housewives do.
A non-teething toddler who was calm, cool, and collected.
You know, the things us “Real” Housewives do.
A non-teething toddler who was calm, cool, and collected.
Furthest thing from my life this past week.
That’s life for you.
It changes so quick.
As I listen to pounding happen in my kitchen as I write (our sink disposal is broken), it seems like so many things have broken this week. If I use a word to describe the past week, I am at a loss for any word to use other than “brokenness”.
Maybe its an extreme word, but I am one for extreme verbiage and over the top stories.
That’s just me.
Maybe its an extreme word, but I am one for extreme verbiage and over the top stories.
That’s just me.
Everything just kept breaking…Earlier this week our master bathroom toilet broke and flooded everywhere.
I spent lots of time and lots of mopping up water, doing post-clean up laundry, and making sure mold isn’t creeping into the carpet that got wet.
We have friends of GOLD who came by and saved the day by helping us fix the toilet, install the new piece and replace the broken. (Kristina, what was it called again?!) 🙂
Monday.
I started doing dishes, and cleaning the kitchen and out of the corner of my eye I spotted Samantha in the bathroom cabinet.
She is usually super helpful and curious when putting things away in there.
Instead, she grabbed out the candle, and un-like a delicate flower of a girl, she literally took the candle and threw it on the ground.
Broken Glass everywhere.
Panic, Fear, Tears.
Only a scrape to the finger.
Uttered words of thankfulness.
Grace.
Tuesday.
I had scheduled a dermatologist appointment for an afternoon time slot. Friends of ours were in town and we had scheduled a play-date.
(Such a highlight of our week, in the midst of the crazy…It literally was the JOY I needed after the morning I endured).
The girls schedules were thrown and we moved our play date to the afternoon. Much better time for the flow of the day (or so I thought), and getting the appointment re-scheduled to the morning would be much better for Sam.
She is usually super well behaved, especially when we bring the i-pad along to watch a “show” on.
Instead, she decided to scream, throw a Texas size tantrum and literally throw the i-pad across the room and scream at me, “No, mama, NO!”.
Time-out’s happened, deep breaths followed, fake-smile plastered on my face for the other patrons and prayers for a quick appointment.
We made it out alive, but, barely.
Wednesday.
I woke up with a giant smile on my face.
My favorite day of the week.
(Even though the day began at 5 a.m., it held much promise of fun ahead!).
Got an early morning run in, a venti box and ran into Miss L, went to music class, and then headed to Gram’s for nap time.
She was tuckered out and I promised Gram a successful nap ahead.
I left to get my nails done (TREAT Time!), and then called Gram.
Sam had barely napped and I could hear the chaos in the background.
Sam was still in her “stink”.
uh, oh.
Better get home fast. Gram of course had it under control and got home to take care of child so Gram could prepare a gourmet meal for twelve. Yes, you read that, twelve.
We had a blast, despite the repated words of “mine, mine, mine” that were working with around here.
Exhaustion began setting it.
Time for Bed.
Thursday.
Had some good “quiet time” to begin the day.
An hour of stolen moments to myself.
Its the almost the weekend.
Whew, I made it through this week, was all I kept thinking.
Start doing dishes, and remember that Jordan said something about the disposal not draining.
Oops, I forgot. Spent all day at Gram & Papa’s yesterday.
Seriously, it was that kind of week. How did I forget?
Oh brother.
Jimmy-rigged washing the dishes, and hubby scheduled a repair man to arrive that afternoon.
Long morning later, and one sleeping child finally asleep, I sat down.
Ding-Dong, someone is here.
Its 1 p.m. who could it be?
Oh, yah, the repair man.
Of course.
Pounding, fixing, draining and two hours later.
New appliance.
Friday.
Woke up with a new perspective.
Hubbs is home for the day, bridal shower for a dear girlfriend ahead, and rest is sure to take place.
My mama writes a darling post for our little collaborative project, calls me to proof it, and its perfect.
I should post it. But, I don’t.
Go on a long walk with our little family, get a call from my mama that she can’t see it.
(This is happened before, we are panicked, and are sure that its disappeared into the world of cyber space like it has before!)
You might say, why is this such a big deal?
After the week I had experienced, it just seemed like icing on the cake, par for the course.
I sighed.
I started crying.
Seriously…one more broken thing God?
Hubbs suggested praying, I did.
I reoriented myself to a Father who is kind, gracious, loving, compassionate,
Bigger than me and my small issues.
Or as we all call it around here, “first world problems”.
I didn’t expect to come home to find our little journal.
You know what?
It was there. Undeserved favor. It put a “pep in my step” and reminded me that not all things are broken.
Saturday.
We have friends of GOLD who came by and saved the day by helping us fix the toilet, install the new piece and replace the broken. (Kristina, what was it called again?!) 🙂
Monday.
I started doing dishes, and cleaning the kitchen and out of the corner of my eye I spotted Samantha in the bathroom cabinet.
She is usually super helpful and curious when putting things away in there.
Instead, she grabbed out the candle, and un-like a delicate flower of a girl, she literally took the candle and threw it on the ground.
Broken Glass everywhere.
Panic, Fear, Tears.
Only a scrape to the finger.
Uttered words of thankfulness.
Grace.
Tuesday.
I had scheduled a dermatologist appointment for an afternoon time slot. Friends of ours were in town and we had scheduled a play-date.
(Such a highlight of our week, in the midst of the crazy…It literally was the JOY I needed after the morning I endured).
The girls schedules were thrown and we moved our play date to the afternoon. Much better time for the flow of the day (or so I thought), and getting the appointment re-scheduled to the morning would be much better for Sam.
She is usually super well behaved, especially when we bring the i-pad along to watch a “show” on.
Instead, she decided to scream, throw a Texas size tantrum and literally throw the i-pad across the room and scream at me, “No, mama, NO!”.
Time-out’s happened, deep breaths followed, fake-smile plastered on my face for the other patrons and prayers for a quick appointment.
We made it out alive, but, barely.
Wednesday.
I woke up with a giant smile on my face.
My favorite day of the week.
(Even though the day began at 5 a.m., it held much promise of fun ahead!).
Got an early morning run in, a venti box and ran into Miss L, went to music class, and then headed to Gram’s for nap time.
She was tuckered out and I promised Gram a successful nap ahead.
I left to get my nails done (TREAT Time!), and then called Gram.
Sam had barely napped and I could hear the chaos in the background.
Sam was still in her “stink”.
uh, oh.
Better get home fast. Gram of course had it under control and got home to take care of child so Gram could prepare a gourmet meal for twelve. Yes, you read that, twelve.
We had a blast, despite the repated words of “mine, mine, mine” that were working with around here.
Exhaustion began setting it.
Time for Bed.
Thursday.
Had some good “quiet time” to begin the day.
An hour of stolen moments to myself.
Its the almost the weekend.
Whew, I made it through this week, was all I kept thinking.
Start doing dishes, and remember that Jordan said something about the disposal not draining.
Oops, I forgot. Spent all day at Gram & Papa’s yesterday.
Seriously, it was that kind of week. How did I forget?
Oh brother.
Jimmy-rigged washing the dishes, and hubby scheduled a repair man to arrive that afternoon.
Long morning later, and one sleeping child finally asleep, I sat down.
Ding-Dong, someone is here.
Its 1 p.m. who could it be?
Oh, yah, the repair man.
Of course.
Pounding, fixing, draining and two hours later.
New appliance.
Friday.
Woke up with a new perspective.
Hubbs is home for the day, bridal shower for a dear girlfriend ahead, and rest is sure to take place.
My mama writes a darling post for our little collaborative project, calls me to proof it, and its perfect.
I should post it. But, I don’t.
Go on a long walk with our little family, get a call from my mama that she can’t see it.
(This is happened before, we are panicked, and are sure that its disappeared into the world of cyber space like it has before!)
You might say, why is this such a big deal?
After the week I had experienced, it just seemed like icing on the cake, par for the course.
I sighed.
I started crying.
Seriously…one more broken thing God?
Hubbs suggested praying, I did.
I reoriented myself to a Father who is kind, gracious, loving, compassionate,
Bigger than me and my small issues.
Or as we all call it around here, “first world problems”.
I didn’t expect to come home to find our little journal.
You know what?
It was there. Undeserved favor. It put a “pep in my step” and reminded me that not all things are broken.
Saturday.
Some things do get fixed.
Some things take a long time to fix.
Haley, Give the week away. Release it, to move on.
New perspective.
I can spend a lot of time in my head. Dwelling on the negative, thinking on things that haven’t gone my way. They can be silly things, or things that I don’t think are so silly.
Things get broken. They might never get mended. But, God always mends my broken heart.
Always.
Welcome to last week.
Or should I say, good bye to last week?
Yes, that’s what I will do.
Hello, Monday, new day, hallelujah!
So, from suburbia I confess, that life isn’t always a box of chocolates. Or the chocolates that we want-hubbs learned that silly lesson this valentines day-Godvia only. See, I told you, silly issues people!
Or a walk in the park.
Even though, in suburbia we do visit lots of parks.
Its weeks like the past that put to shame my false expectations of mama-hood, of being here on this earth, of living life.
Things get broken.
All the time.
On Sunday’s, Monday’s, Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, Thursday’s, Friday’s, and Saturday’s.
Yup, brokenness happens all around us, every day.
Oh, there are JOY’s, and they are too many to count.
Yet, there are also challenges.
Just wrapped behind pretty picket fences.
Goodbye long week, hello new week.
I have a feeling we will be better friends.
xoxo
Mama