that is the number of times i heard the nice man in front of us blurt out one of three very nice expletives on Saturday at the OSU-Houston game. i SO wanted to wash his mouth out with soap...or blow snot on him (since my allergies were on a rampage the second we stepped out of our car in Stilly.) i think the latter would have been more fun. oh...yeah...the point. well, i (naturally being better than him), was totally passing judgment. yes, please cuss...it couldn't possibly make you any more attractive than the dirty shirt you're wearing. sheesh...if he thought he was going to impress the totally hot girls in front of him, then i am WAY out of touch with what is attractive. okay, so now that you all think i'm totally mean...
i picked my 6-year-old up to take him to his scout meeting a little while ago, and on the way, i got cut off by a really bad (but probably very nice) driver. before my brain even caught up with my mouth, i heard it. learn to drive, dumba**! umm...what? where did that even come from? i make it a point to never say a word i wouldn't allow my child to repeat. (well, unless i am fired up and i can't get my point across without it! heh.) but seriously folks. dumba**?? couldn't i have at least made it count and dropped an f-bomb!? no...i picked that one. questions ensued, of course. i apologized and promised to never say it again. not good enough. i will likely face punishment later.
so...to foul-mouthed dirty shirt man...i am sorry i judged you so harshly (because i KNOW you are reading along). one expletive is as bad as 52.
Monday, September 8, 2008
butt kickin'
i'm totally prepared for one this week. i have a test, a quiz, and a paper due. that's on top of my usual homework. *puke*
Thursday, September 4, 2008
the drive home
Each week, I have two days where I am alone in my car for an hour and fifteen minutes. In mommy time, this is an eternity! Of course, you can't do much besides drive and think. 45 minutes of the drive is made TO school at the OSU-OKC campus. Typically, just before the drive, I have been scurrying around the house getting things in order for Chris or the babysitter, whomever will be caring for the little people when I leave. I am usually frazzled by the time I get into the car. I am worried about whether or not I will have a quiz over the periodic table or metric conversions (flash card images run through my mind)...and whether or not I will make it to class on time. I worry about the kids, and what terror they might inflict upon the sitter. I worry about Chris and if he will be in the frame of mind to handle dinner, bath and bedtime alone.
Then I hit traffic, and I become even more frazzled. I typically have the radio blaring to drown out my goofy thoughts, but once I hit traffic, I am forced to turn it down or completely off. I can't concentrate otherwise. I am the only one in the car, and even with the radio off, it is difficult for me to "hear". I continue on, the traffic only becoming heavier as I reach my destination (it is at it's thickest right at the school).
I curse at other drivers.
Merge already!
Feel free to use a turn signal!
Of course, this is all done in my mind for fear that if I do it out loud, one of them might hear me and try to run me off the road. right. It sounds so much less lame in my brain.
As I sink into my seat in class, I am worn out.
I make it through class and do well at what I feared I wouldn't. I am getting this stuff. I leave feeling triumphant. The last couple of class sessions, the weather has been so pleasant, so I walk slowly to my car while enjoying the hint of fall weather all around. Sometimes, I am lucky enough to enjoy stimulating conversation with a classmate along the way.
I start the car and pause for a few moments before pulling out of my parking space. The radio is off from the drive before, but there is no other noise this time. It is quiet. My thoughts are no longer screaming through my head. I realize that there is peace all around me, and I can finally "hear." There is only the sound of my engine revving as I accelerate or the thud of my brake pedal as I press it down to the floor. The entire drive home is this way. It is only 30 minutes or so, but it is the sweetest part of my day. I spend the entire drive lost in sweet conversation with my Jesus. I actually hear him, and I am so free in listening. It's like chatting with an old friend...I can tell him anything, and he understands.
It was just tonight that I realized this pattern I have created, and it completely signifies the rhythm of my life. When I try to be in control, I am frazzled and worried. When I let go, true peace sinks into me, and I can truly be with my God the way he intends for me to be.
Then I hit traffic, and I become even more frazzled. I typically have the radio blaring to drown out my goofy thoughts, but once I hit traffic, I am forced to turn it down or completely off. I can't concentrate otherwise. I am the only one in the car, and even with the radio off, it is difficult for me to "hear". I continue on, the traffic only becoming heavier as I reach my destination (it is at it's thickest right at the school).
I curse at other drivers.
Merge already!
Feel free to use a turn signal!
Of course, this is all done in my mind for fear that if I do it out loud, one of them might hear me and try to run me off the road. right. It sounds so much less lame in my brain.
As I sink into my seat in class, I am worn out.
I make it through class and do well at what I feared I wouldn't. I am getting this stuff. I leave feeling triumphant. The last couple of class sessions, the weather has been so pleasant, so I walk slowly to my car while enjoying the hint of fall weather all around. Sometimes, I am lucky enough to enjoy stimulating conversation with a classmate along the way.
I start the car and pause for a few moments before pulling out of my parking space. The radio is off from the drive before, but there is no other noise this time. It is quiet. My thoughts are no longer screaming through my head. I realize that there is peace all around me, and I can finally "hear." There is only the sound of my engine revving as I accelerate or the thud of my brake pedal as I press it down to the floor. The entire drive home is this way. It is only 30 minutes or so, but it is the sweetest part of my day. I spend the entire drive lost in sweet conversation with my Jesus. I actually hear him, and I am so free in listening. It's like chatting with an old friend...I can tell him anything, and he understands.
It was just tonight that I realized this pattern I have created, and it completely signifies the rhythm of my life. When I try to be in control, I am frazzled and worried. When I let go, true peace sinks into me, and I can truly be with my God the way he intends for me to be.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
big hairy fits defined
large-sized anxiety-causing sudden outbursts of emotion
uhhh...can anyone say TWO-YEAR-OLD!?
uhhh...can anyone say TWO-YEAR-OLD!?
jesus and chocolate
What is it about chocolate that makes you have to eat it until it's gone? If it is in my house, I will eat it...and not in moderation, mind you. I just can't get enough. And did I mention how incredibly happy it makes me?
Hmmm...could this possibly be the reason I bounce back and forth between the same 5 pound weight loss or gain? Another discussion perhaps.
All this happy choco binging reminds me of a time not so long ago that I binged on something else that made me deliriously happy...God's word. I couldn't get enough of it. I was constantly hungry for more. I read and read and read and read. I memorized powerful verses that I knew would help me fend off any spiritual attacks and I was excited to share with anyone who would listen...especially my kids! My excitement for what I learned was contagious, and in them grew a desire to know more, too! It was AWESOME. Even when life placed irritating pebbles in my shoe, I felt His presence and knew it was as it should be. So, what happened? I just don't know. What an incredibly complicated answer, right? I do not know why I no longer devour the word of our Lord as if I were starving. It must have happened slowly, as I don't recall an abrupt halt. My fire is still burning (or rather, flickering), and I crave God's word...but I am not starving for it any longer. How do I get back to that place? I want to be there again.
Hmmmm...oh, how I wish I were wiser and had more of the answers already.
Hmmm...could this possibly be the reason I bounce back and forth between the same 5 pound weight loss or gain? Another discussion perhaps.
All this happy choco binging reminds me of a time not so long ago that I binged on something else that made me deliriously happy...God's word. I couldn't get enough of it. I was constantly hungry for more. I read and read and read and read. I memorized powerful verses that I knew would help me fend off any spiritual attacks and I was excited to share with anyone who would listen...especially my kids! My excitement for what I learned was contagious, and in them grew a desire to know more, too! It was AWESOME. Even when life placed irritating pebbles in my shoe, I felt His presence and knew it was as it should be. So, what happened? I just don't know. What an incredibly complicated answer, right? I do not know why I no longer devour the word of our Lord as if I were starving. It must have happened slowly, as I don't recall an abrupt halt. My fire is still burning (or rather, flickering), and I crave God's word...but I am not starving for it any longer. How do I get back to that place? I want to be there again.
Hmmmm...oh, how I wish I were wiser and had more of the answers already.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
chores vs. children
But I don't want to...
I hear this phrase often from my little people, upon being annoyed that I even asked and usually in response to a request to make a bed, to pick up shoes cast in the middle of the living room floor, or to pick up a wet towel from the bathroom floor. Seems there is always something far more important to do...somehow, even picking the lint from between their toes ranks above cleaning up after themselves.
If they'd just do it in the first place, I wouldn't have to ask.
I don't understand. Even as a child I was a fairly neat kid. I got the occasional request to clean my room, but I actually enjoyed it. I loved organizing my things, right down to my stuffed animals. I would change up how they were organized, sometimes alphabetical by name, sometimes by color. It didn't matter. I always knew where everything was and where it went. Definitely not a toss it all under the bed kind of kid.
Why can I not teach neatness to my offspring??? They are, after all, my flesh. There should be some of my obsessive compulsiveness within them, right? But alas, I have one child who is eager to help and does whatever is asked, two whose room could wreak of rancid wet towels for a week without them asking about the stink, one who is rapidly developing the art of creating living spaces similar to the after effects of a natural disaster, and one whose work habits are yet to be revealed. My home is definitely not the vision of lovliness I dreamed it would be many years ago before I had children. For me, order means peace. When my home is in order, I am at peace. My home is never in order.
Seriously, am I ever at peace? I mean really at peace? What does that even mean? I constantly seek peace, but what does that look like? Is peace really having a well kept home and clean well-behaved kids all the time? A lovely vision, no doubt, but definitely not real peace. I'm sure that this elusive concept is different for everyone, but for me, being at peace means letting go of the little things that do not deserve my attention...that means the bitterness at having to pick up just one more thing off the floor, the worry that someone might see how messy my car is on the inside, the guilt I feel for telling my child just a minute when asked to play. Would I lay down my life to have an immaculate home? Uh, nope. Would I die on a hill for my child's eternal life? YES, YES, YES!!! Sheesh, a no brainer.
I hear this phrase often from my little people, upon being annoyed that I even asked and usually in response to a request to make a bed, to pick up shoes cast in the middle of the living room floor, or to pick up a wet towel from the bathroom floor. Seems there is always something far more important to do...somehow, even picking the lint from between their toes ranks above cleaning up after themselves.
If they'd just do it in the first place, I wouldn't have to ask.
I don't understand. Even as a child I was a fairly neat kid. I got the occasional request to clean my room, but I actually enjoyed it. I loved organizing my things, right down to my stuffed animals. I would change up how they were organized, sometimes alphabetical by name, sometimes by color. It didn't matter. I always knew where everything was and where it went. Definitely not a toss it all under the bed kind of kid.
Why can I not teach neatness to my offspring??? They are, after all, my flesh. There should be some of my obsessive compulsiveness within them, right? But alas, I have one child who is eager to help and does whatever is asked, two whose room could wreak of rancid wet towels for a week without them asking about the stink, one who is rapidly developing the art of creating living spaces similar to the after effects of a natural disaster, and one whose work habits are yet to be revealed. My home is definitely not the vision of lovliness I dreamed it would be many years ago before I had children. For me, order means peace. When my home is in order, I am at peace. My home is never in order.
Seriously, am I ever at peace? I mean really at peace? What does that even mean? I constantly seek peace, but what does that look like? Is peace really having a well kept home and clean well-behaved kids all the time? A lovely vision, no doubt, but definitely not real peace. I'm sure that this elusive concept is different for everyone, but for me, being at peace means letting go of the little things that do not deserve my attention...that means the bitterness at having to pick up just one more thing off the floor, the worry that someone might see how messy my car is on the inside, the guilt I feel for telling my child just a minute when asked to play. Would I lay down my life to have an immaculate home? Uh, nope. Would I die on a hill for my child's eternal life? YES, YES, YES!!! Sheesh, a no brainer.
the fine art of napping
***update***9.4.08 Bella napped yesterday and today...and went down pretty easily, too! BONUS!
Um, yeah. Napping? Whatever happened to two-year-olds who nap? I have one of those...you know, two-year-olds. She's great...really. But not when she misses her nap. You see, I believe there is an art in napping, especially in a napping two-year-old. It's not so much that it's an art for her...but for me. It's an amazing event. She goes down for her nap, and there is a never-ending silence in the house. It is one only experienced during nap time. Truly beautiful if you have never experienced it. We have had the pleasure of witnessing artful napping for a couple of years now (would make sense given that our two-year-old is, well, a couple of years old). But in the past couple of weeks, that nap has become rather elusive. I so took for granted it's beauty before. Now, however, I NEED for that glorious wonder to return so that I can STUDY. Forget getting the laundry done anymore. Oh please, oh please, nappy return to me.
Um, yeah. Napping? Whatever happened to two-year-olds who nap? I have one of those...you know, two-year-olds. She's great...really. But not when she misses her nap. You see, I believe there is an art in napping, especially in a napping two-year-old. It's not so much that it's an art for her...but for me. It's an amazing event. She goes down for her nap, and there is a never-ending silence in the house. It is one only experienced during nap time. Truly beautiful if you have never experienced it. We have had the pleasure of witnessing artful napping for a couple of years now (would make sense given that our two-year-old is, well, a couple of years old). But in the past couple of weeks, that nap has become rather elusive. I so took for granted it's beauty before. Now, however, I NEED for that glorious wonder to return so that I can STUDY. Forget getting the laundry done anymore. Oh please, oh please, nappy return to me.
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