Rest Easy

I walked into the kitchen last night and found this:

And I starred at her, with her pencil still in her hand and her paper nearby, and wondered how writing could possibly be so exhausting. Who knew that the counter top was a comfy place to rest?

And I was reminded of another time I found her, 5 or so years ago. When I went into her room to wake her for school:

I really can't puzzle this one out. Let's collectively wonder about this, shall we?

On a lighter note, I risked asking the 2 oldest what they want for Christmas. This is a question I rarely ever ask. It's just not wise. Here's what I got:

Child #2: Fake nails.

Child #1: A Camaro.

I may just take a rest on the counter today, myself.

Another Year Coming

It's that time of the year. The time where a mother feverishly hunts for 'the dress', then has it altered (because modest is hottest!), and then the zipper breaks 2 days before the dance, so the mother hunts down 'the perfect matching colored zipper' and has it replaced. It's my super favorite time of year. For sure.

But then the day comes, and all her friends gather together, and I take a step back to enjoy the view. And I can see just a glimpse of who they really are. For they are good, and kind, and funny, and strong. They are beauty. Inside and out. Especially the one in the green emerald dress with a newly replaced zipper.

Homecoming at it's finest.

Today I'm Wondering

I have a lot I should be doing/planning/preparing/thinking about today. But, I'm not. I'm wondering about completely insignificant things instead. I'm kindof a grand champion of avoiding your to-do list. I could probably teach a class. I think after I complete my wondering, I might spray paint a chair turquoise. For serious.

1. Leggings. Can we please wonder about leggings together? And not little girl, cute leggings. Grown women leggings. Patterned leggings. I see them everywhere. At what point did it become acceptable to use leggings as a substitute for pants? After the age of 5? Honestly, I need your thoughts. This issue plagues my mind. If you didn't already know, I'm a rather deep thinker.

2. After 3 weeks of enduring stitches and bandages and goopey antiobiotic cream on my scalp, I was finally able to dye the gray out of my hair. You're relieved, I just know it. And I finally feel like myself again. Which makes me wonder...Is my real self fake? Does my real self cost $7.99 (with a coupon!) at Walmart? This is another one of those deep thinking moments. It might take me a while. Oh, and in case you want to matchy-matchy hair with me, Loreal Preference #6. M'kay?

3. I'm wondering about a good name for a cow. I know, tough stuff, right? This super creative blogger that I follow has a new cow painting. She wants to name her.

I married a pretty boy who grew up on a dairy farm. I feel like I should be able to channel his inner farm boy and figure out the perfect name. If you must know, I've been wondering about this for over an hour. Time well spent.

If you've ever wanted to know how to use milk paint, check out her blog. She is the queen of the stuff. And I have decided a name for her (if you care that much, you'll have to look in her comments). It's the one name The Husband used with a cow (because she let the kids ride on her back) in all is glory milking days. The fact that there are people out there that would hang pictures of bovine in their home, will probably send him over the edge. It's a rather hysterical thing.


I hope you take time to wonder today too.
And avoid a whole bunch of your to-do list.

It Was Just A 16 oz. Drink

Last night.

{sigh...}

She drank a Dr. Pepper.

And then it all came tumbling down.

She pranced around in a friend's tutu. Like, for hours. And then I caught her with her ear buds up her nose. Yes, her nose. This was her explanation: "I read on Pinterest that you can put them in your nose and then open your mouth and it will act like a speaker." She thinks it was false advertising, because it didn't work. Duh.

To block it all out, The Favorite and I laid on the carpet doing homework. Which evolved into a spit bubble blowing contest. Her giggles drowned out all the other surrounding crazy. It felt monumental. Until the tutu and her owner descended. And the whirlwind picked right back up.

{sigh again...}

Random From The Week...Just Because

Do you remember how I told you my babies (I mean, my sister's babies) had a birthday? They're 5 and I still can't believe it. And at some point I should probably stop calling them 'The Babies'. Right? I'm thinking sometime around the age of 25 I'll call them something else.

We now eat breakfast on the kitchen floor. Because, you know, it's so hard to make it all the way over to the table.

And we also sleep in the orthodontist chair. Because staying awake at 8:00 am is just too much to ask of anyone.

The #1 and #2 now perform in the same choir. Much to my delight. This was one of those moments where you pause as a parent and ask yourself how time sped by so quickly. Truly.

I'm the kind of mother that sends her 17 year old messages like this during her school day. She has declared she wants it made into a t-shirt.

And I've become obsessed with trying to look at my now stitch-less head. I have to look in the mirror, using another mirror. It looks like teacup rats chewed tiny holes along my scalp. The absurdity of this fascination should alarm me. And yet, it doesn't.


I hope you enjoy all the random fascination you can this weekend.
And maybe an odd compliment, or two.

I Think My Brain Is Broken

I'm driving down the freeway. And driving some more. Because I'm going to get my stitches out of my head. And it's far away. Aaallllll the way down where The Husband works. So while I'm driving, I'm thinking. About lots of stuff. The first of which, is this stupid long drive in this stupid long traffic. And The Husband has to endure it every day. Twice. I should buy him some kind of trophy.

I don't know about your city, but in Houston, there are large, digital signs posted here and there. They're used to display important messages about traffic, accidents, weather alerts, that type of thing.

But on this particular morning, the digital billboards display a warning of a "Missing Elderly Person". So, because I'm me, I start thinking about what would happen if a mother went missing. Like, she just walked out her door and disappeared. Would the digital boards alert us to look for her?

Can't you just picture it? "Missing Exhausted Mother, last seen giving her final cash to her teenagers. Call the police if you locate her." And can't you just picture the reaction of all the other mothers who read that sign? "If she can make it out, so can I."

Do you see what I'm saying? There is something wrong with my brain. I'm dreaming of missing mothers everywhere and how delightful that would be. Who on earth would cook dinner?

And then.

Oh, and then.

This arrives in the mail:

And I look through it's pages. And I look at every picture. Over and over again.
And in my mind, I declare this, Candy Porn.
This kind of publication should not be allowed. It's just not right.

If I ever decide to go missing, I'm stocking up on this stuff before I head out.

For My Sister-Take 2

The mantel had a do-over. The last one stayed put for 2 weeks. Sometimes it all stays in place a little longer than that, but not usually. And if you're wondering why I'm even posting pictures of my mantel decor, and for my sister, no less, you can read why here.

 

 

And I made this. It's huge. You should make one too. You can download the print from this talented blog. I printed mine at Costco. It's 20x30. To be honest, I'm not very skilled at calculating measurements. I just wanted big. So, I clicked the box for the biggest print. Um, yah, it's super large. I framed it with yard sticks. In hindsight, I coulda used those to realize what a 20x30 candy print actually looks like.

5

This family's favorite joy turns 5 today.

Happy Birthday sweet girls.

The Way, Way Back To See

It's 5:30 am and they are on their way out the door. They are wearing matching choir shirts, and they're still a little groggy from a 4:45 am wake-up alarm. But as they rush to gather their things, I think to myself, "I want to hold this moment." And so I do. Much to their annoyance.

Now that they both attend the same school, they get mistaken for one another. And when Child #1 walked into Child #2's classroom, everyone thought they were twins. Even the teacher. You can imagine how much the Junior loved being labeled the same as a Freshman. Super warm fuzzies.

The teachers at the elementary school have told me that they continually call Child #3 by #2's name. They claim that the 3rd looks exactly like the 2nd did at this age.

But, here's what's funny...I don't see it. The similarity. They seem so individual to me. So very not alike. Maybe I'm too close to see how they look the same. Maybe my view is too concentrated and narrow.

Do you ever take the time to step back? Way back? To get a broader view of who your children really are? So often, we're so close, so in the details, the turmoil, the struggles, that we can't really, truly See. It might be a little wise to stand at a different angle and try to look with different eyes.

That might be one of the great parenting secrets. To close down the every day, ordinary view of our children. Maybe we will see them more clearly if we adjust our stance and eliminate our laser focus. At least every once in a while. Because, standing right there, right in front of you, is beauty. Goodness and joy and love in it's purest form. Right there. You see it every day, but most days we don't really See at all.

So let's take a step back. Even at 5:30 am in a rush to get out the door. Look at them. And See them. Tomorrow they can go back to being demanding and irritating. But not today. Today we will take a view from the way, way back. And hold the moment. It just might change tomorrow's view as well.

For Better Or Worse

It's been 1 week since I had a chunk of my head cut out. We are not even going to discuss the itching. The kind of itching you can't touch because it still hurts too much. It's so irritating, I could scream. M'kay?

But, last night, The Husband figured out a way to wash my hair. As well as work out all the clots of dried blood that have been hiding away. This may not seem monumental, but let me tell you my friends, it is. Huge. Amazing.

Hours before this, The Man had willingly gone with me for Homecoming dress shopping. Oh, the glory and goodness. After 19 years, he is still the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

So, today is one of gratitude. Who knew that clean hair and itchy stitches could bring such joy? I hope you find some of your own today. And no, you can't borrow Todd. He's mine :)

Links That Matter

I don't usually talk about God and faith and religion. Sometimes I skirt around the topic or brush over it lightly. But I've never walked through the heart of it. Not here in this space, anyway.

I'm not sure why this is. Because God and faith and religion, are the truest parts of me. Maybe I'm afraid to set the words free that talk about these things. Maybe I just have to trust that you'll take what I'm offering and hold it as if it were your own.

I'm a Mormon. Have been all my life. And the truth of what I believe are the threads that weave my soul together. It makes up the foundation of who I am and how I see the world. I'm pretty sure that's the way Faith is supposed to work. No matter where you go to church.

And today, I'm giving you a talk presented by someone of my same faith. This talk is life changing. Truly. It is the most personal and powerful speech I have ever heard.

His Grace Is Sufficient

I want you to listen to it. It's long. 32 minutes, to be exact. Find the time to watch this. Quiet time. Because you need your whole heart to be present for these words to move you.

It doesn't really matter what church building you park your car at on Sundays. The God I pray to is the same as yours. Faith is still faith, across the board. And this man, Brad Wilcox, teaches all of us how God's Grace fills in all the flaws and cracks and gaps and makes us whole.

Some of the lingo, or phrasing, might be unique to the LDS religion. (If you're curious about any of that, you can find more here.) But the Lord's saving grace is given to every one of us. Every day. In all the ways we fall short. Please take the time to listen to this talk. It will help you to see the truth of who Jesus is and the power He offers to heal your soul.


And then, because I haven't given you enough homework, I want you to read this:

Being Less and More

Edie is one of those women who speaks, and I listen. She (and many others) are writing for 31 days. You should follow along.


Last but not least, my favorite author and her newest book. Mine arrived on my doorstep yesterday. No one moves me the way her writing does. She too teaches about Jesus and Faith and Being Enough and offering the world a little, or a lot, of who you truly are.

If You Desperately Feel You Have Nothing To Offer



Thanks for indulging me this week.
Enjoy your weekend. Take the time to remember who you are. And more importantly, to see the person He created you to be. Click these links and fill your soul up to the brim.

All You Never Wanted To Know

OK. Today I'm irritated with myself that I even started this little challenge. I have no idea why I thought anyone would want to hear from me every day this week. I don't even want to hear myself.

I have received lots of great suggestions on how to deal with my bandaged head. Apparently I should let people sign it. Like a cast. But the thought of anything even lightly touching that area of my head causes big Texas tears to form in the corners of my eyes. So that option is a no-go. My favorite suggestion came from the nurse at the doctor's office: a bar fight. I think that's the one I'm going with.

And because I'm divulging today, I'm giving you some of the things that make me super weird. This is the stuff I really don't talk about. So why not share it on the Internet? I must be taking too much Vicodin to be thinking clearly.

1. This one is a doozy. Get ready....I have a grocery store voice that lives inside my head. For reals. It helps me decide which cereal box to pick or which can of beans I should put in my cart. The grocery store voice rarely likes to take the item at the front of the stack. It likes to pick the 2nd box of stuffing in the row. Never the first. The voice believes that the oldest items are put up front, so you should always pick back in the middle for freshness.

2. I wish on every shooting star I can find for Vin Diesel to come eat lunch with me. I heart him a whole bunch. I just want him to knock on my door and come sit at my kitchen table. Without his shirt on.

3. I can't send grammatical errors in my texts. At least, I try hard not to. I just can't do it. I was an English/Humanities major in college. No LOL's for me. I even proofread my texts before sending them off. True story.

4. I have an unusual obsession with acorns and book pages.

Not just any acorns. They have to hold a meaningful story. That's just the way I work, I guess. I've gathered some outside the elementary school all my kids have attended. I picked some up in Grapevine, Texas when we were on vacation. And Child #1 even brought me home one from school.

As far as the book pages go, I chop up a lot. I don't really know why I like them so much. But I'm constantly cutting them up, ripping them out, making leaves, flowers, pumpkins. My oldest has a friend who decided to start reading all the items I've created, and found a really bad word. Guess I should be more selective in my pages. But I probably won't.

5. Guilt is my constant emotion. Which is probably very normal for a mother.

6. My mom made me a Barbie cake when I was 4. Maybe 5? I've wanted another one ever since. It has something to do with her skirt being made entirely of cake. And then covered in frosting. I just want to eat her. Not in dainty slices. Just me, a fork, and the Barbie skirt. I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

Where My Head Is At

Aren't I pretty? I don't feel very pretty. This was taken yesterday. When I had an area of skin cancer sliced out of my head (the slow growing kind, all is well). And I'm only smiling because Todd make me giggle.

My head now feels like its been stabbed. 402 times. I can't figure out why it burns so much. Is that normal when you have your skin cut out and stitched back together? I have no idea. Oh, but I do know this: It's not very pleasant to smell your own flesh burning when it gets cauterized. I can now cross that item off my bucket list.

You wanna know the very best part? Better than the mean doctor who made me cry? I get to wear this huge, white bandage on my head for 2 weeks. That's 14 days, people. Oh, and I can't get it wet. What the?

Child #3 told me to glue a flower to the bandage. Instead, I just went out to the store and tried to ignore the fact that I look like a crazy person. The cashier asked me if I hurt myself. Nice.

All the 12-Steps I Need

Hi. My name is Lisa, and I'm a craft-a-holic. I'm also a "go to Goodwill and buy crap super cheap and come home and repaint it"-a-holic. And occasionally, I like to "borrow" things from my mom's house and repaint those too.

I can't decide if making things is a talent I'm supposed to let shine, or an obsession I need a program for. But there are days when I make something, that I step back and say, "Now that's a spiritual gift". I like to make myself feel all important and stuff like that.

Generally, I get an idea, or see an idea, and I make it. Projects have to take minimal time. If something takes too long, I'm irritated, and I'll just throw it away. Oh, and it has to be cheap. I have to already own the materials or be able to buy them with my handy dandy Hobby Lobby coupon.

I also tend to want everything to have a story. What I use in my house has to have meaning. I made it, my kids made it, the Husband gifted it to me. Not everything has a story, but the history inside the walls of my house matters to me. A lot. Art made by someone I love feels priceless. Even if it's on construction paper.

I don't paint a lot of big furniture. Because that requires patience. Something I have in negative numbers. I've needed to paint my kitchen table for the last 2 years, and I just can't bring myself to take on that kind of project.

But I did "borrow" this lovely table from my mom. Well truthfully, I begged her for it for at least 6 months. I caught her on a day she was weak, and I took it home and painted it within 24 hours. I think she's rather charming.

I have a strong belief in creativity. Everyone has some, it just shows up in different ways. Mine tends to lead me towards redecorating. Not the most convenient of hobbies. But, there you have it.