Friday, February 27, 2015

The Random What Nots. I Mean, Way Random

I have a secret to tell you. Well, it's not so much a secret as it is a confession. Ready? I'm {this} close to joining Instagram. For reals. I've just been thinking about it lately. Maybe yes, maybe no. I'm not quite there yet.

You should see the reactions I get when someone finds out I'm not anywhere on social media. It's such a foreign thing. Yes, I know. So many things make me weird. That's just one of the nuggets.

But really real. I'm thinking about Instagram. From the outside looking in, it seems interesting. I just can't decide if I need one more thing to be obsessed about in my life. I'll keep you posted.



The Baby Child got a Wubble.

Ya'll. This is the craziest thing. It's like a ball, that's supposed to be a bubble, but really feels like a giant eyeball. We. Are. Riveted. All of us. There is no joy like bouncing a huge ball/bubble off your child's face. Try it. I insist.


My crockpot is 20 years old. This little fact bothers me. For reasons unknown. It was one of the first things The Husband and I got together as a married couple. And now, it has a wobbly leg and the edge is cracked. 20 years old! How on earth did that happen?

The crockpot is as old as my marriage. Is there a metaphor in there somewhere? Maybe? You start out sturdy and shiny and new. And you just keep on ticking along. Keep doing the thing you were always meant to do. Even with cracked edges and wobbly legs. Am I right?

I clearly need some kind of caffeinated beverage.
A large one.


Do you remember awhile back when I had a hissy fit that the Baby Child would not, would not!, watch The Bachelor with Child #2? Do you remember how I lost all control and the Baby Child watched it anyway? Man, that's just the truth of my parenting life. I have good intentions but never good end results.

Well, guess what? The whole stinkin' family is now watching The Bachelor. I'm not even messin' with ya. The. Whole. Entire. Family. It just evolved. We all just started gathering around the glorious TV while it was on. And now? We. Are. In. It. Like, all the way. You should have seen us this week. Shocked. All of us. Crushed. Hearts broken. Minutes away from tears. We just couldn't believe who he sent home. For legit.

We have reached a new low.

Child #2 now claims that she can "Bring her people together".

Have a straight up awesome weekend.
I may read a parenting book. Or twelve.
Not really. Once you're on a downward slide, you might as well ride it out.
Peace Out.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Line Is Drawn

Sometimes, OK all the times, I'm one of those parents that threatens but then has no follow through. That's how I roll almost all the time. But, heads up, this ain't one of those times. This is straight up serious. A mother can only be pushed so far.

After finishing laundry this weekend, I posted this manifesto on the fridge. I made it all cutesy and color highlighted. And I made the offspring sign in blood. I mean, pen.

Here's how things are goin' down from now on.
Remember, I'm not messin' around no more.

All Foster Children

From this day forward, all laundry bins
must be brought downstairs on Laundry Day 
containing ONLY dirty clothes.

Any person that decides to leave clean
and folded clothes from the previous week
in their bin, will be punished to the full extent.
See details below.

Any person caught trying to trick their mother
into washing the same, exact clothes she
washed the week before, will be
subjected to the following--

Your cell phone privilege will be revoked until
you act out 3 stories from the scriptures.
Costumes and props will be required.
Your mother will film your performances
and post them on YouTube.

Go Ahead.
Try Me.
I'll take you down.

Cross your fingers, people.
Life is about to get real over here.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Make Waves

Y'all, I'm in a pickle. Thick inside it. And it's my fault I'm here. I just can't find a way out. It's starting to make me edgier than I usually am. That's really saying somethin'.

My brain is in a funk. Am I the only one who does this? You set yourself into a downward spiral of thinking, and you just can't stop it. I'm there. Like, at the bottom pit section. I can see the trail of thinking that got me there. I just can't see the trail to think my way out of it.

Because I believe we have this tendency to berate ourselves. To let our inner voice take over the chant that we're all things failure. We're not doing it right. Any of it. So often that's the only voice that rings clear as day. And we let it. Why? Because failure is an easy default. Somehow we convince ourselves that's the only place we're worthy to be.

But what if it's not? What if failure is the comfortable way to coast? Because surely being stellar comes with a price tag of action and accountability. That road looks downright exhausting. So, believing we aren't good enough let's us settle deep in for the ride. It lets us mingle without having to make waves. No?

But, here's the truth. We were made for making waves. You were. And so was I. And every day, every. single. day., we wake up being good enough. In all the ways, in all the things, we are good enough. And just right. No matter how loud we let our inner voice, or anyone else really, tell us otherwise.

Because this, right here, is the real ebb and flow. The fine print details. Sure, we get a whole lot wrong. But holy heavens, there is so much we get right. Let's take note of that too. OK?

So, if you find yourself in a pickle, know that tomorrow you begin again. A new start. A new good enough kind of day. One that you'll fail a little and succeed a lot. It just may look differently from mine to yours. And that's OK too.

Make waves. In your own way. At your own pace. Just like you were meant to.

Kinda sounds stellar already.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

She Is All The Joy

When she was a tiny girl, she had some pet ducks. We didn't really keep them around, they just showed up every day. She called them "My duckies".

They would fly in. And walk right up to our door step and wait for her. She would take water and bread outside and they would all eat together. She would hand them a piece of bread and then eat one herself. Over and over again. She talked to them constantly. It was fascinating to watch.

And now she's 12. She wears makeup and constantly has her earbuds in her ears. She rolls her eyes at me. A lot. And when she gets really worked up, she runs her mouth. That's the opposite of fascinating.

Teenagers are interesting creatures. You would think that I would have just a bit of it figured out by now. But, I don't. Not even close. The more teenagers I have, the farther I feel from the truth of it all.

But when I look at her, really look at her, I still see the little girl that sat on the front lawn with her ducks. That girl shines brighter than all the other stuff. That adorable toddler with the chubby cheeks smiles at me through the layers of hard work. No matter what she says or what she does, I see her. The real her. The one that is my joy. The foundation of it all.

Let's remember to use our true parent eyes to see them with. The ones that know the beauty of who they are and who we are helping to mold them to be. Let's look with those eyes. And offer them in return the purest form of ourselves. Undiluted and ever ready.

Family at it's finest.

Friday, February 13, 2015

In All The Ways It's Wonky

You guys. This has been a weird week. I can't put my finger on why. It's just been so off-kilter. The edges of the days feel frayed and misshaped. The feeling makes me nervous. Why is it all so wonky-ish?

You know what's been bugging me? I'm gonna tell you what's been bugging me. The kids. Are you surprised? I know you're not. But, seriously. These kids. Do you know how sick I am of someone asking what's for dinner at 7:30 am? Sick, I tell you. Just sick. Why do they care so much what we're eating that night? Sometimes they even sneak in a text from school asking that dreaded question. It's so 50 shades of weird.

You know what else? I'll tell you what else. The piles on the stairs. Piles. I nicely stack all their crap right there in the walkway. They're headed up those stairs anyway, so why the heck can't you bend down and grab that pile of crap on your way up. Why? It's maddening.

And guess what I've recently discovered? After Daughters #1 or #2 drive my car, I have to move the seat up in order to drive myself. Say to the what? How is it possible that they're making me shorter than them? Am I driving the wrong way? That is a high possibility.

I have to tell you something that's just going to rock your socks off. I'm serious.

I got Botox this week.

Hold up. Not the kind your thinking. Experimental injections for my migraines. I've been trying to get this done for over a year. And it happened this week. Magic and fairy dust, people. That's what I'm shoutin'. I'm expecting big miracles from this treatment. Which means it totally won't work.

30 shots. And them babies hurt like the dickens. Just before the doctor started, I heard him say to the nurse, "Let's mix some morphine with that." Um, huh? That should've been my first clue that these shots aren't for the faint of heart. You wanna know the golden ticket awesomeness of it all? I can't raise one of my eyebrows. Bam. For legit. I was warned of this side effect, but didn't really consider that it would happen. Now I'm weird on the inside and the outside. Serves me right.

So, for now, me and my one eyebrow will wish you a wonky Valentines.
That's just all I've got for today.


Friday, February 6, 2015

A Hat

We all sat around the kitchen table last night after dinner. And she slipped on one of the twin's hats. You know, they're 6 and she's 15. Same logistics but different size.

And I just stared at her and remembered a time where she wore a similar hat.

Well, kindof similar. But her 5 year old self just stuck in my brain. So, I watched her with awe and marveled at all that has, and hasn't, changed.

And then she got quirky. And weird. And would bounce her eyebrows up and down to make the hat move. And there was laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.

It's nice to know that some things, the very best things, just never change. Let's look them straight in the eye and enjoy them.

No matter what hat they wear.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

You Were Made For This

We are knee deep in musical production. Well, "we" is a loose term. It's more of a "she". Final performances are this weekend. And it's hard to believe that the constant and endless work will come to a close. Months of it. She said she's rather sad to see it all end.

I watched her on stage last Friday. Opening night comes with it's own kind of excitement. I had a general idea of where and when she would be up there. But nothing specific. And just like always, I was drawn to her. Always searching her out in every scene. My soul calmed once my eyes locked on her tight.

And when she sings. Oh, when she sings. I can hear her above everyone else. Every. Single. Time. My entire everything can zero in and hear her clear as day. It's like my heart finds her before my eyes do. I'd like to think that's the way it's supposed to be.

"She was made for this. Right here. Right now. This very thing. She was made just for this." That's what I think when I watch her. This is where she was always meant to be. At this time in her life. It's a rather exciting thing to witness.

And at the very same moment, it all makes me wonder, "What were you born to do? Right here. Right now. What were you made for?" And I have to think that just as I am acutely attuned to this beautiful child of mine on stage, so is the Lord so finely aware of each of His children walking around on earth.

What does He think when He sees us? Does He hear our voice and think "She is doing all that I created her to do."? Does He scan through the crowd at any given moment until His heart finds ours? Just to check in and make sure all is well? Maybe. Probably. It's enough to give me pause and make my thoughts tumble around the idea of it all.

Because He's a parent just like I am. He hopes and He loves just as fervently as I do. That means something. It means something powerful. There is someone there who loves you more than you can imagine. In all the ways we get it right. And wrong. That's all kinds of epic. No?

Are you doing what you were created to do? Not the monumental, big stuff. Just the stuff of ordinary days. The ones that produce extraordinary moments. That's where our living needs to be. Knee deep in the production. On the stage and in the scene.

Let's take our cue from this beautiful daughter (whose stage name is Lenore). Let's live and breathe our truth. Let's work for it. Hard and non-stop. Let's find our groove and move. Because this, right here, right now, is our time. To find the good. To Be. In all the ways He made us. Let's step into the light and shine.

Just like He intended all along.

You were made for this.

Monday, February 2, 2015

All The Weird

There are so many things that I do that make me strange. I think it's just in my nature to be weird. Odd numbers? Hello! Evil like glitter. Did you know I record award shows? Oh yes. Then I can watch the gowns in slow motion and skip the boring parts.

The day after the Superbowl is my jam. Kinda like crafts are my jam. I love this day. Why? I watch all the commercials. And I mean ALL. This year I even found a website that lists them in alphabetical order. The movie trailers that played during the game are on there too. It's like a sugar bonus!

And just so you know, I have no idea who even won the game. I have a good guess, but I'm not totally sure. My vote was for the Seahawks because they had super cute, green, little birds on their shoulder pads. I thought it was very fashion forward. Hence, that's who I cheered for. But I got tired after 15 minutes and moved on to other things. Like reading. And yawning.

But honestly, I've spent a majority of my day watching commercials. I don't even feel like it was wasted time.

You wanna know what is a waste of time?

Asking this girl to STOP. IT.

At first she spread her full body on the banister. And I yelled with my outside voice. And then she got smart and stood on top of it. I stopped yelling and just took a picture. Because, really. What can you say?

You can say 4 drivers in one household:

Child #2 finally got her driver's permit and can now drive legally. She may, or may not, have been driving for the last year with my sister. And the twins buckled in the back seat. While my sister scrolls through Facebook. (She's seriously the best driving instructor. She taught Child #1 to drive too. I really wish she paid their car insurance as well.)

And one last thing....

It was our House's birthday. It's 7. The perfect time for a rainbow cake. No?

Well, all the time in all the days are perfect moments for cake. Truly. Whip one up. I'm telling you, it will make you feel better instantly. It's like eating joy. And even numbers :)

Happy Monday.