Forgetting to Remember

Water.  Agua.  H2O.  Or is it h2o. Or h2O?

Whatever.  Water.

When I'm stupidly tired, my first thought is: Coffeeeeee.  I neeeeeeed cofffeeeee.......
And so I drink a pot cup, and then... I'm ..... still tired.

And then I think: Red Bull.  Ya, BABY.  I need a Red Bull.
And so I drink a 16 ouncer and then.... I'm not as tired, but 3 hours later, I'm more tired.

And then I chug 60 ounces of water, back to back- and I'm like "Whooooo-EEEEEEE".
Not tired.

But I always forget to drink water THE. FIRST. TIME.

Why do I do that?!

And that's kind of how it is.
I "know" what I need to do, but sort of "forget" what I know- so I do a bunch of other dumb junk first.

Like? A while back my gall bladder was trying to kill me- and I had to move to a super bland diet.  And I knew I needed to stick to that bland-o diet, but once my gallbladder backed off, I went back to the junk.

And now? My gallbladder is actin' like a FOOL all over again- and I forgot what the symptoms were while I was all sluggish and tired, and IN.PAIN. these past 2 weeks until a NEW symptom popped up, and I had shooting pain in between my should blades (toward the right side) and I remembered that LAST time that was the ONE symptom I did-not-have.

Sigh.  

I forgot to remember what I already knew.

Bummer.

My marriage: In a (cracked up) nutshell.

Once upon a time- before we had kids (FINE! It was 10 years ago....) I bought a Beta fish.

I named him Beta.

It was the perfect pet for me at the time.  You only have to feed them every few days.... and, you can put a pretty little plant atop the fish bowl to oxygenate the water and make your kitchen counter look decorative.  Pet. Decor. Plant.  Win-Win-Win.

Every 2 or 3 days I'd put some food in Beta's bowl and watch him swim around like the shark he thought he was gobbling up all of his food- and then, I'd ignore him for a day or so.... feed him... talk 'fish' with him... and ignore him for a few days..... and that's how our relationship went.

Then one day- when I put the food in his bowl- Beta. Was. Not. THERE!!

My fish bowl was empty.

And like an IDIOT- I searched all over our kitchen counter and the floor and the sink....  thinking the stupid fish had 'jumped bowl'.  (How'd he jump through the plant!?!  Maybe he was trying to get a fly?)

When my husband came home from work, I was FREAKED out and said
"Beta disappeared! His bowl is empty....!!! OH. MY. GOSH! He's probably down in the vent... we're gonna have dead fish smell in our house now.... Do you think he went into the vent????"

Literally- his response was:

"OH? He died the other day.  I flushed him."

My mouth is gaped open.  I'm in shock.  Who was this person I married? What kind of man doesn't console his 19 year old bride after her one and only fish dies?  FISH FLUSHER!!!  I married a FISH FLuSHeR!!!!

"Ummmmm..... YOU didn't want to..... maybe...... TELL ME THAT MY PET FISH DIED!?!??!?!"

"Oh? I didn't tell you?  Hmmm.... sorry 'bout that....."

And so goes the next 10 years.  Important (to me) information doesn't typically reach me via Mr. Joshua Anderson.  Many (too many) times, I've had to figure it out myself (typically \feeling like I'm looking on the kitchen floor for a flopping fish).

I keep forgetting how casual the man I married is.  He's an 'out of sight, out of mind' kind of dude.

I'm a "teller"- a "detailed teller" to boot.
I call him when I'm making plans to go to the grocery store.
I call him while I'm at the grocery store to make sure there isn't anything he needs.
I call him on my way home from the grocery store..... just in case there's something he forgot to tell me that shoulda been on our list.
(And when I'm unpacking our groceries- he follows me into the kitchen and says stuff like:
"What? No ice cream?  Awwww....I was hoping you'd bring home some Ice Cream....." (insert pouty face).

It's maddening, I tell ya!
MADDENING!

We have two completely different personalities.  God is HILARIOUS in His orchestration of whom should marry whom.  Sometimes- I think He saw Joshua and I and said:

"Oh Ya.  These are the one's I'm gonna use to prove that NOthing is possible (good) with out ME!"

And if that was His thought- He proved Himself (yet again) to be the MASTER artist.
'Cause it is an all out MIRACLE that my husband and I are still married despite our completely-different-from-each-other-way-OUT-there-opposites-attract-but-mostly-wanna-strangle-each-other personality differences.

No THING is possible (good) with out the Lord.

NOTHING.

Especially marriage.

I was reminded of this fish story when a friend posted a blog about her sons' fish dying, and the fact that the eldest of the 2 was 'cool' with it when he realized that he got to flush his brother's fish down the camode. Out of sight.  Out of mind.  He was sad... and then... he moved on....

That's a man story.  Lessons learned in how the 'male brain' operates via  a 5 year old.

It's a shame I don't have a son.  I'd understand my husband REALLY well.
It's tough that we have 3 girls ...... this means my husband is WAY more confused about the female brain.

Don't Got No Time for That

It's a double negative.  I know.  It's improper and it's an inappropriate way to speak.

Whatever.

I don't got no time to worry about all that........

I recently spoke to a someone that didn't know me very well.  The person was doing a sort of "evaluation" with me, and I didn't want him to think he needed to pour out a few eggshells to walk on during the discussion.  I stopped him and said:

"Just know.... there is nothing that you should feel the need to sugar coat.  I am perfectly fine, actually- I prefer, Blunt Honesty.  Ok.... Go ahead.... I just wanted to make sure you knew that...."

He was appreciative for the clarification, though he admitted- (in a super eloquent way) that he didn't need my permission to be honest and straight forward.  He'd be bold either way.  In that- an immediate respect formed for this person.

Honesty.  Whether you like it or not.....

What is there NOT to respect about that??

A latter conversation with the other person that was in the room led me to realize why it is that

 "I don't got no time for all that sugar-coated-beat-bushing nonsense".  

She said to me: "It's cause your a busy MOM! You want to get to the point and move on."

Ahhhh.  What a profound perspective.  

And this leads me to the point of this blog.

I don't have time to make my life look perfectly sweet. I don't have time to think carefully and studiously as I write (though there are times I do).  I write.  I type.  I pour my (true)self onto these blog pages.
I write for myself.  It's therapy.  I paint pictures of the reality that is "my life".

I'm writing all of this out for the part of me that feels "inferior" when  I read bloggers post about the

        

SWEET- FUN-AMAZING- CREATIVE 

(seemingly PERFECT)                                                                                                                                

lives they live.

For the part of me that feels a little like:

Brittany Spears with a Shaved Head when she Went Way off the Deep End 

when I compare myself to 

the Sunshiney Oh Happy Day Life is Perfectly Perfect

Blog. Mom. World.

I compare myself when I'm reading the dashboard post.  

Wait? I don't know how to make my blogger page pretty......

Wait? I need to invest in a way-out-of-my-price-range camera so I can put pretty pictures up

Wait? Why don't I think of creative fun things to do with my kids......

And on, and on, and on..........

So. Tired. Of. Comparing. Myself.

I'm me.  I can't and won't conform.  It's a totally foreign concept to the person God made me.  

The person God made  me   laughs at  the person I sometimes think I'm s'pose to be: 

Conform?  What? No.......  Seriously.... Wait? Are you really asking me that? 

To change WHO I am and WHAT I do, and HOW I live.... 

Just. To. Please. Your. Inner. Self. Consciousness?

 Bahhhhh HAhhhhh Hah!!!  Ya. Right.  

I DON'T GOT NO TIME FOR THAT.

School. Decision MADE.

  The girls are going to public school this year (and possibly next year).   

The hardest decision I've had to make- sending them into the public school system (one- for the first time, and the other for the 2nd time- after a 1st times AWFUL experience.)  Did ya catch all that?

Anyone who's read this here blog-spot of mine KNOWS how tough this decision has been.   And- though I'm confident that God has a plan, and He's in control- I can't deny that I'm still broken hearted that my sweet baby-girls are being sent into the world, all alone..... from 8:00 AM until 3:00 PM.... to be cared for by people I know NOTHING about. (I've considered stalking the kindergarten and 2nd grade teachers..... )  To be surrounded by children that may or may not be mean or nice, or hateful, or friendly.  To be told to walk in a straight line, and no talking, and no silliness (Wait? We have that rule for the grocery store. Am I being hypocritical here?)

Maybe the saddest part is being away (ok- wide open- the flood gates are pouring) from my girls for such a long period in the day time- 5 days a week- and not knowing how to meet their needs in those FEW hours I'll get to spend with them in the evenings. (Especially if I'm to be a working-woman in my near future).

God is good.  He knows my equipment is failing in the home school department, and I need some major repairs before I can take on that task again.  He loves my daughters WAY more than I do (and how that's possible will forever baffle me!).  His plans are for their GOOD; and that rocks.

So? I believe God whispered a tender little "You know who you should get in touch with?" in my ear- and prompted me to send the school counselor an email.  This school counselor and I- we're "Facebook friends"- cause we went to the same church; how great is that??? The few times I've talked to her I felt like she was a genuine person.  So? We emailed.  And I don't know how she did it- I've read the emails several times; there's nothing super profound in what she said- but this sweet lady made me feel a welcomed relief in the fact that we could totally make this school year a good one.  We're going to meet this coming week- and I'm so thankful to have an empathetic ear available to listen to our concerns, and our hopes, and our needs.

I'm praying for THE PERFECT teacher for each of our girls.  I'm praying that the transition from being late-morning-risers (8:00-9:00 AM) will be easy-enough, and that we'll have a cool routine in the mornings that will allow us time to PRAY together, and eat together, and CHILL-ax for an easy morning ride into a busy school day.

I'm praying that I can quit crying long enough to get a grasp on how important it is that I TRUST GOD in this time.... understanding that HE is awesomeness, and I am NOT- and He sees what's ahead; and knows what is best for us- in this time- here and now.

Rebel

It's unfortunate.  I'm a rebel.

In my actions.  In my thoughts.  In what I don't do.

I'm a rebel by nature.  Sin nature.

It's not a choice I make- to be this rebellious.  It's a choice when I choose NOT to rebel.  And that's when it becomes cool that this nature in me, is who I am.  In NOT rebelling, I am, in a sense, REBELLING.  Against my nature.

Satan likes to kick up these STUPID thoughts in my head.  I can choose to consider my thoughts; or I can choose to move them away.  The latter is the HARDEST, but well worth the effort.  Well. Worth. It.

I could become a total idiot if I allow my thoughts to be considered.  I could become even dumber if I act on those thoughts.  I can't lie.  I have done both.  Considered.  And Acted.

I struggle, periodically, with a specific thought.  The thought that, if considered, could get me in big-huge trouble.  This specific thought has been the hardest to push aside. Worldly, it'd be fun.  It'd be interesting.  Spiritually- it would DEVASTATE me.

I'm so thankful that God has made it black and white for me.  It's my choice- to consider and/or to act.  It's totally up to me.  But being aware of the repercussions is worth more than gold.  I choose NOT to act.  More so, I choose NOT to consider.

Totally. Worth. It!

Humanization

I really have an aversion to meeting "famous" people.  

My favorite artist/band of all time; musically, lyrically, and ministerially, is Casting Crowns.  There isn't a song that they've recorded that hasn't hit home for me- at some place or another in my life- this band has ministered straight to my heart.

One decision I've made, and will hold firm to,  is that I DON'T ever want to meet this band.  Not in the passive "Let me get your autograph!" way.  I've yet to attend one of their concerts; but I can guarantee that a person wouldn't find me standing in line at their autograph table on the day that I do get to one of their concerts..

My husband and I were stoked to have won tickets (years ago)  to a private concert by my husbands ALL TIME favorite Christian band.  It totally rocked. (literally).  We were front and center, up close and personal,  hollering out request to our favorite songs, laughing at the faces the guitar player was making and LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT.  Man!!  These guys were amazing LIVE!

And then.  (Oh my)  AFTERWARD.  We. Got. To MEET. the BAND!!!!
(Eeeeeeee!  Whooooo!   AhhhhhH!)

We stood in line behind 200 other guest (and we were GUEST!) waiting our turn to meet these cool, awesome, nice guys.  To get our picture taken with them.  To meet the men behind the BEST Christian music EVER (according to my husband).

And.... for me- it was sadly disappointing.

These guys didn't seem very nice at all??  They weren't excited to see us.  Why was that?  After I was met with a disinterested lead singer, and the other guys in the band that wouldn't even look up to see who they were talking to, I tried empathizing to why it was that these guys weren't who I had imagined they would be.  "They were tired, and their hands hurt from signing autographs, and the lead singers lungs were possibly ready to explode from singing his little rocker-heart out.  They missed their families, and they may have been stressed out due to some technical difficulties....."

Now, I have this empathy toward WHY it is these guys weren't all smiles, and "God bless you" and "YES! Come over here and get a picture with us...." but it didn't change the fact that; They Weren't NICE to us.  They weren't mean.  Or rude.  Just.... unwelcoming.

Since first impressions are lasting... they are not only just men, they are Not Nice Men to boot.  I'm distracted when I hear their music.  I think to myself "I wonder if these guys are The Real Deal."   It's unfortunate for me that I met the band, because in meeting them, I was forced to HUMANIZE them.

Realizationally speaking, I can admit that they probably ARE, in fact, Nice Guys.  Even still, back to that first impression thing.... You know..... whatever.

It was a great experience, though. I had a nice time with my husband.  We were on a super-great date, and it felt like we were teenagers- hanging out; carefree, kid-free....Very fun!

I vowed, that night, to NEVER do an autograph thing with any other "famous" person.

I didn't mean to, but I sort of broke that vow one afternoon after a Gary Chapman marriage conference.   (Don't worry.  I'm not gonna say that he  was "not nice".  He's actually a pretty nice guy.  Very wise).   For some very strange reason, I followed the crowd up to the podium at the end of our conference, and got his autograph.  I already KNEW that I had told myself that I never wanted to meet another famous person.  Maybe I didn't quite think that he was actually famous? I don't guess he is.... Who knows.

I got the autograph, and made a dork of myself in the process.  I may as well have stuck out my front teeth, hunched my shoulders, and snorted when I laughed as I said,   "Hey Dr. Chapman. I love your books..... "  Pause.  Pause.  Pause.  (Insert laughing and snorting, and wiping the snot from my nose while pushing up my horn-rimmed glasses.)  OF COURSE I love his books!  I'm at his MARRIAGE CONFERENCE!  Gah!!   His reply? Simply,  "Thankyou."  I should have hit myself in my forehead and told him straight up, "I'm a DORK, Dr. Chapman.  Can you write a book about the love languages of Dorks??"

 Afterward, I asked myself WHY I actually cared about this guys signature?!  He's just..... A GUY.  That wrote a book.  (Ok? A LOT of books.  A lot of great books!)  BUT!?!?  Why did I want to have this dudes signature on my book?    His magical signature did not actually entice me to READ that book. It's been an entire year, and the infamous signed book has been sitting- on our dresser- collecting dust!

So?  I really don't want to EVER meet any person that I have, or ever will learn something from through any avenue of media.  Wait?  Let me back up.  I don't want to meet "famous" people via a drive-by autograph and a hand shake.    These people are HUMANS.  They're just like me; and you. I know that if I were talented enough to create some sort of media that "taught" people, or "entertained" people, I wouldn't necessarily want to sit at a table for 3 hours signing books, or cds.  I WOULD want to talk to people- and get to know them.... but NOT just sign an autograph.  It would disappoint me.  I love talking to people- so- just signing a piece of paper wouldn't be fulfilling.

Perhaps these people are separated from us "regular" folk cause they have a more interesting job?  Maybe not!  I have a pretty DARN interesting job here at home with 3 AWESOME little girls, let me TELL YOU.
For some reason or another, though, there is this magnet that us "regular" people have to those artist that actually get to use their gifts, within their career.

Backing up to the humanization of famous people- more specifically, music artist- I will say that I have been blessed to get to know a specific artist of a well-known band.  Ironically, I met this cool-dude at the aforementioned "not very nice" people concert.  His band was signed under this (other) bands label- and they happened to be there.  I knew the producer (sort of knew him through another friend) and said "HEY!!! How's it going."  The producer/promoter that he is, he said a nice "Hello......(insert ADD stare)..... HEY! Have you met these guys....." And we were introduced to the drummer and bass player from the band "Two-Bare Feet".   Nice guys.  We talked about the town we were from, (they were SUPER local to our town) and the high schools we went to... and so on.  I was talked into creating a Myspace page ("You don't know what MYSPACE is!??!) and.... whatever else we talked about- I don't remember.   I'm telling you- it was a COOL night!!

Fast forward (I'm not sure how many years later) and I am at our local YMCA.  I need something for my work out, and I go to the desk.  The guy there was all smiles, and super friendly, offering me the help I needed.

Thankfully for me, I don't actually think before I speak, and I said "HEY!  How do I know you?  You look really familiar."

 He said "Oh? I don't know...." and we played the "Do you know... and what's your husbands/wifes name...where'd you go to school- where do you work... blah blah blah..... and then it hit me!!!  "OH!!!! You're the guy from Two Bare Feet."

Again- speaking before I think- I forgot that the bands name was no longer "Two-Bare Feet", but it had changed to Echoing Angels.  I knew that.... but forgot.  So- friendly guy from Echoing Angels didn't just sit back in his chair arrogantly announcing "You know me because I'm a ROCK STAR!" And he didn't disregard my dorkyness in not knowing at first glance who he was.  He was STOKED to meet me (again), and walked around the desk to give me a big hug- like I was some long-lost friend or something.

Nice guy.  For the past 2 years, any time I've talked or chatted with him at the Y, he's been the same humble, friendly guy.  Openly talking about the bands "news" and the trials and hurdles that it's had to go through in getting a new record out, and talking about his cool kid- and sweet wife, and so on....

I have been tremendously blessed to get a better appreciation for Christian artist and all the behind-the-scenes work that goes into it through this guy.

I got a new experience in the humanization of "artist".  A much better realization.  A deeper empathy.  There's a lot of TRUSTING God involved in having a career that ministers to folks through music.  I s'pose for some artist (Hey D.C. Talk, Third Day, and Casting Crowns) it's like super-fast-fame and non stop recording, and touring, and...... eh... maybe not.

I still don't ever want to do a 'meet/greet/autograph thing' with Casting Crowns.  Or any other band for that matter.  I AM, however, SUPER glad that I got to get to know JP from Echoing Angels.  I haven't met the other dudes from the band- but in being priveledged enough to get a sneak peak at some of their new music- I can say that this band ROCKS.  They have incredible talent.  Some of the (new) lyrics I've heard are OUTSTANDING.  (This is ON TOP of their already INCREDIBLE CD  "You Alone".)  I'm on the edge of my seat- waiting for them to overcome their hurdles, and get the stuff (wad-of-cash) they need to get their new CD out.

There's a freshness in what I've heard, a boldness, and seriously- musically- IT MOVED me.  I was left wanting more after hearing a small portion of the songs JP had on his iPod.  I can't remember the lyrics- but there was a point that I almost got teared up it was THAT good!

For me- the musical talent absolutely HAS to match up with strong vocals, and most importantly PASSIONATE lyrics.  And it does, on all counts for Echoing Angels' new stuff- and let me tell you- I just got a taste of what it could be, and what it's going to be!!!!  Trey has a WOW-strong voice. Dude's got vocal chords!!  JP has mad-passion for what he does, and for the people that he serves.   The label that signs this band is going to be BLESSED.  Not only are they gonna score some sweet talent, their gonna get to work with a great band!

Breeding Grounds

It's a little before 7:00 AM.  My husband comes into our room to tell me goodbye- he's off to work- he loves me- smooches- see ya later.  I'm groggy, staying asleep sounds like a much better option than putting my feet on our cold wood floor.  I convince myself to get out of bed, and as I find my vertical balance, I hear chitter chatter from the girls' room.

This winter- all 3 girls are set up to sleep in one bedroom.  Our house, not having central heat, stays cozy enough with our fireplace, but it's easier to keep the upstairs super toasty if we can close off one of the bedrooms.  Leah is standing up in her bed, and Kyla and Zoe are sitting on the top bunk watching Daddy's truck leave.

"Oh man." I think to myself. "It's too early."  And to the girls I say "Ok.  It's still dark, you all need  to go back to sleep."

 Leah is happy.  She says, with her paci still in her mouth "Sippy.  Sippy, please.  On.  The.   Tay-pull."  Yep.  She wants a drink of water- and she's telling me her sippy is on the table..... downstairs.

Sweet!  Easy enough. The guess work has been eliminated and Leah is communicating what she wants with out frustration.  Love it!

I get her sippy.  I get Zoe and Kyla each a drink of water.  All is well.  It should be a quiet morning.

Should be.

And then- I go to the bathroom.   Our girls have yet to learn the art of flushing. I flush for them- (how many times did they potty last night??)- and meet up with an Over-Flowed-Toilet.   Good thing for me, I'm still slightly drugged from last night's Sleepy Time Tea.  I just shake my head- plunge the toilet, and plunge.... and plunge.... and PLUNGE (is this thing EVER going to quit over flowing???).  Got it.    Mess is slightly cleaned up (bleach to come later in the day).

Downstairs I go. Coffee. Mmmmm.  I pour a cup, and  check on the fire before I sit down to a cozy quiet.

"Ugh!" I just stepped onto a 3ft x 2ft  pile of wood chips, dirt, ashes, and bark.  This is a typical mess when bringing in fire wood, building a fire, and/or adding wood to the fire.  Everything to do with our fire place leads to a big 'O mess!  Typical mess as it is..... it's supposed to be swept up by whomever made the mess.   The mess maker of the morning was running late.  He didn't get to it.   It's mine.

I sweep and sweep and sweep..... and sweep. (are these wood chips just multiplying???).  And, finally- the dust pan is maxed out, and I'm done.    While I'm at it- you know- NOT being cozy- I go into the coldest place in our house to retrieve the model number for our broken dryer.  Brrrrr!!!!!  It's like walking outside!!  I get the number, text it to my husband, and move toward the recliner.  I've got the heating pad all warmed up too.

Cold coffee.  Eh?  I'm used to it.  No problem.  I sit down- begin this blog, and what do I hear???  A Screaming Leah.  And a Shushing Kyla. (apparently Leah requires her quiet time in the morning to actually be quiet- and being disturbed does not sit well with her.  This! I understand.)  

So- here I am.  Yep.  This morning is a breeding ground for a super chaotic day.  It's all prepped.  Overflowed Toilet.  Wood chips in my feet.  Screaming 2 year old.  Disobedient 6 year old.  Groggy mommy.  All with in 30 minutes of putting my feet on the floor.

But, guess what??  This is really not an unusual morning.  Sure.  Our toilet doesn't over flow every day- but first thing- every morning, it's mostly crazy.  Before I even fully wake up, I've got 10 things pulling at me.  Kyla. Zoe. Leah. Kitchen. Breakfast. Fireplace. Diaper. Dog. Coffee.  (Ok, maybe it's just 9.)

My life- my 3 girls, home school, unbalanced, unscheduled,  overwhelmed life-  is, in and of itself, a breeding ground for chaos.  

Do they make birth control for that?

Sometimes......

There are times....  sometimes...... that I suppress.   Times that I blog, when I'm really angry, and suppress every bad thought as to not seem negative.  Times that I "facebook" when my frustration levels have scored a gazillion on the scale, and I put something nonchalant about what it may be that is bothering me.

In writing- I find that I am most successful in expressing myself, with out sounding angry.  It comes out much nicer in the form of a letter than it does coming out of my mouth.

Tonight- however, I feel the need to be blatantly forward.  Not for anyone other than myself.  I need to be able to refer back to this day- so I can (hopefully) remember how "hard it use to be" and find gratitude that it's not anymore

There has been 'something' in our home; I couldn't tell you exactly what- but whatever it is that's going on- it's breaking me down.  Tearing apart my relationship with my daughters, and with my husband.  It's not 'just me', either.  It's 'something else'.  Satan?  His retarded little demons?  Something!

Passive aggression creates harsh aggression.  My husband?  He's super passively aggressive.  He may not realize it- but he IS.  And because I can see clearly through the falsehood, I become a fist full of fury when he DENIES it!!  OH!  I can't stand it.

(Anyone out there reading this that hears from their spouse, friend, relative, or second cousin twice removed that you're 'passive aggressive', you need to TAKE. NOTE.  Try to fix it.  And make it snappy.  Because if you're being called out on it- it's being realized, and your aiding the person dealing with 'you' in their outward aggression.)

Moving on.

My primary 'love language' is "Acts of Service".  This being said- if my husband neglects his responsibilities, I feel like I'm unimportant to him.  When I find myself picking up the random sock lying in the middle of the floor after he's kicked it out of his way....or throwing away the diaper he's just changed, blowing leaves, checking the air pressure in my tire, taking out the garbage, getting a phone call from the power company that our power will be turned off because our bill wasn't paid, etc. etc. etc....  when THAT happens- and I've got to pick up the slack- ON TOP of my massive load......  ya.... I feel extremely unloved.

 I wish my love language was 'touch'- then I'd feel like the most LOVED woman on the planet.  He wants to hug me, and kiss me, and 'loooove' on me all. of. the. time!!  But?  That's not MY love language.  That's his.  It doesn't work for me when he hugs me right AFTER he dumps crud all over our floor and neglects to pick it up.

When I get to witness my husband enjoying the sweet childhood of our children, while I wipe the sweat from my brow as I toss another load of laundry in, clip a few more coupons,  sweep the floor and wipe the mess from the table.....  I become bitter.  Not because I have to take care of my responsibilities- but because I'm behind due to his lack of responsibility... and because most of the time- by the end of the day- I have to miss out on how incredible our kids really are due to the red-light flashing in my brain screaming 'over load, over load, over load'.

I bust my BOOtay day in and day out- cleaning, washing, cooking, educating, disciplining, and so on- all day, every day.  I sacrifice my time in order to assure that my children are not chowing down on chicken nuggets and french fries, but that their consuming fresh, whole, all natural food.  And I stress over curriculum and time frames in order to assure that our girls are not 'going through the public system' in order to achieve a decent level of education.  In the middle of it all- I'm counseling and redirecting behavior.  I'm reading and researching to try to figure out all of the 'how to's' on this whole "mommy thing" because my mom was never able to teach me how to do it.

And all of my efforts- I feel- are in vain.  Because I SUCK at being a good mom.  I'm so 'on edge'.  Just overwhelmed.  Exhausted.  Burnt-Freaking-OUT!

 I find myself shoveling the blame on my husband for my state-of-mind. " I would NOT be so consumed if he would spend a few- just a few- extra minutes doing 'his part'."

I have a friend- with one child- who's husband has said from the beginning "I work.  You stay at home.  It's not my job to clean."  And that's THAT.  The end.  She 'does it all';  home school, housework, cooking....  Selfishly- I think to myself that it's a reasonable approach from her husband's point of view.  She's got one child.  It's one- against- one.  I guess it makes more sense to me that way???  Should it, though?

Here I am struggling with emptied out Rice Krispy boxes all over our dining room floor, and blood-curdling screams from one or the other for some reason or other, while dishes pile up, and laundry refuses to walk itself into the washer/dryer and drawers and 'school' beckons me to begin.

 I'm pulled into 3 different directions JUST from the basic care  taking of our daughters.  3 different needs.  3 different stages of development.  THREE!

I certainly was not blessed with the Jesus Christ Love and Patience that is required of a person raising a family with 3 amazing little girls and one hard-working man.  And any patience I have acquired in these past 28 years gets sucked out of me so quickly that one would assume I'd not had any at all!

Sometimes- I just want my husband to pick up that DANG sock.  And throw away that empty shampoo bottle and the poopy diaper laying on the dresser.   No.  Not sometimes.  All. Of. The. Time.  It's one less second I have to spend 'working' and not any amount of physical hardship on him.

Sometimes, he does a rocking job taking care of our home.... most of the time- he wakes up in the morning and unloads the dishwasher and takes out the garbage.  Phew.  Most of the time, this is a treasure to my day.  Empty dishwasher.  Empty trashcan.  Most of the time- I am full of sincere gratitude that he takes care of these two things for me.

 But!  Sometimes- nuh-uh...NO!....sometimes..... it's not enough.

Sometimes, I need my van to get a good looking at to make sure it's not going to fall apart as I'm driving down the road.  Sometimes I need the little things ( in much larger quantities.)  Sometimes.

Sometimes I'm spent- and I need much more from this partner of mine.  Sometimes, I need him to remove his hand from his back and stop patting it just because he 'chopped wood and went to work today'.  YES.  I'm thankful for that... I certainly am.

BUT!  While he chopped a few pieces of wood- I was at Walmart with our 2 and 4 year old.  At Walmart.  In the ice and snow!  Out in the cold dark with a funky sound coming from my tires and my engine.

With a medium sized Chick Fil A cup FULL of barf from the 4 year old who randomly got sick.  With the 2 year old heavily snoozing.  With a forgotten wallet in my van after finagling my way through the aisles trying to fit my groceries UNDER the cart and showing the whole store my butt crack from bending over and over and over plucking out my goods from the under carriage.  With one buggy full of groceries, and the other packed with a (still) snoozing 2 year old, and an (all of the sudden) spiffy-loud-excited 4 year old, who just 25 minutes prior was screaming as though she was dying and throwing up (in afore mentioned Chick Fil A cup).

With having to go back OUT in the cold snow to retrieve my wallet, and having my phone ring to hear my husband ask "Can you get me some cereal?  (I can't) Just go grab some for me real quick! (I gotta let you go.. I can't talk right now)

And then- coming home from the store- after already having a  full hard core day of straight-up CLEANING   to realize that the $#$*%@ baby powder that my 2 year old had emptied out the day before was STILL all over the foyer stairs. (One of 3 spots I missed.)  The bathroom counters are still grossly full of JUNK, and my husband was on my heels "Do we have any clean bed linens anywhere- are there any clean towels???"  More back patting from him "I emptied the dishwasher.  And reloaded it.  And paid the bills."

 After the DAY I had- and after the EVENING I had endured- I couldn't see those dishes he put away.  I could only see the powdered stairs.  And the bathroom counters.  And the 5 minutes that would have made all of those little things disappear.

Grocery bags I brought in from the cold wetness were on the table and the kitchen counter....  waiting for ME to empty them as my husband chowed down on the cereal I brought home (not his kind like he had requested while I was checking out)  and I found myself snap-crackle and pop right along side that stupid cereal!

 I was DONE!  The wall came up.  The attitude.  The 'glazed over' look found it's way to my bitter angry eyes.  The "Whatever" found its way to my lips.  Whatever.  Whatever.  I don't care.  What-EVER!

And that's where I'm at now- even after 47 minutes of Kari Jobe, Selah, and Fernando Ortega- I'm still mad.  Just. MAD!

Frustrated that no matter what- I'm still going to be behind, he's still going to stake claim in his 'I do my part all of the time' and I'm going to feel unloved, under-appreciated, totally deflated, angry, lonely, and broken-hearted.   I'm missing out.  And I blame him.

 I don't require a perfectly clean house- just the basics.  I'm not OCD- maybe a little ADD, but I'm not ridiculously asking too much from my man.  We have small kids.  The work load is extreme.  I should NOT have to take care of most of our life all by myself.  I want him to do his part.  Fix the hole in our wall.  Change the oil.  Clean the yard.  Mow the grass.  Put up shelves.  Fix the floor.    Pay the bills (on time).   I really feel like if he'd JUST do his part- I'd not be so consumed.

Sometimes a person gets to vent out their woes and hangups on their blog.  Sometimes- it feels better to just tell the world how TICKED off you are.   This time?

What good did it do me?

Rereading it- I sound like an unthankful BITCH.  What was it I said before?  The written word (something or other) doesn't hide the truth.

Hmmm.......

What a day.  What an unpredictable, all-together exhaustingly frustrating day.

***Please God- let tomorrow be so awesome that I'll want to blog about IT.  Please give me some peace- and patience and self-control.  Please give me more time to get it right where my kids are concerned.  Please give me a supernatural endurance.  Give me focus.  Determination to NOT give up on my man, myself, or on You.
Thanks, Lord- for never giving up on me.  I know I disappoint you. I know I hurt you.  I know I infuriate you.  Thanks for loving me anyway.
<3 Amber

Hello Insanity, Why'd You Stop By Today?

From Start to (almost finish) this day has brought me a PILE of chaos mixed in with a few cups insanity;

It began at 7:00 AM when my alarm clock started singing to me.  Singing- that's right.

WWEV Victory 91.5 FM. (listen online- tune in all the time.  it's the best station in the WORLD)

The point of setting the alarm to that station is actually NOT to wake me up-

it's to start soothing my mind before I crawl out of the bed, er,

to be more accurate, before SOME cute little 2 year old crawls into bed with me.

(frozen toes and all)

I need that peace to start working it's way into my mind- after only 5 hours of sleep, this particular morning made me even more gratefully thankful that God blessed me with this awesome radio station.

Worry Not....

Every morning, at o'dark thirty.... sometime in between 5:00 and 6:00 AM, my husband comes into our room to tell me goodbye. Some of the time, he lays down beside me and snuggles with me for a few minutes, or he'll sit on the side of the bed, patiently amused while I try to wake up enough to mutter "Hey sweetie.....bye....... honey...... I love you.......mmmm.... Be........ careful."

A sinking, sad feeling usually rises up when I hear the front door close. I start praying that he'll be safe... that God will keep His hand on him, and supernaturally protect him. I try not to worry, but it's so hard not to think about the numerous unsafe circumstances he will be in, or could get in.

Aside from the fact that my husband's drive into "the office" is unsafe due to bald tires and windy mountain roads- he also makes his way from 'the office' to the big city of Atlanta via Ga. 400 at 7:00 AM, and 5:00 PM..... it's like russian roulette- you're either going to make it home with out a wreck, or you're NOT. (He has had several- SEVERAL- fender benders in the past few months. "The Other Guy" runs into his (massive) truck, he sees no damage, and worries not about the technical need for the 911 call.)

Once in the designated area for work- whether it be a residential house in the luxury of a gated community or a commercial building in the depth of the Atlanta "Hood", the real danger becomes present.

He runs up and down ladders carrying heavy material on his shoulder. He walks, crawls, and sits on roofs rising from a simple 1 story flat roof to a terribly steep 3 story, and UP.

Once- he fell OFF a roof straight onto his back, and recently- his helper fell from a 2 story roof. Neither were hurt (badly)- but it makes it clear that this career that my husband is in, it is NOT safe at ALL.

I have found myself in a panic here and there- after a long 'discussion' the night before, and poor use of my vocabulary (saying words I didn't mean)- and having too much pride to apologize before he went off to work the following morning. "What if something happens to him? I didn't tell him I loved him. I didn't hug him.....What if will I do if I don't have him here to take care of us?"

I try not to worry so much- and usually- I can contain it.

But- the other day-one of the things I had feared the most occurred. On the way into work, on a windy mountain road, with wet pavement and a dark sky, he had a front tire blow out. My husband was driving our old truck, "Blue". A a '77 Ford 4wd, 4-speed that needs so much work- including a new steering mechanism. (No power steering, and a LOT of 'give' in the steering wheel.)

What a terrible situation. OH!!!! It's dark. It's rainy. It's DAHLONEGA- the town that recently found itself minus one "Good Samaritan".  (a citizen had had stopped to help a motorist, and was hit by a car)

But the Lord had His hand on my man.  It could have been terrible.  The FRONT tire of a big, blue truck with  terrible steering blows... in the RAIN.... in the dark.... IN THE MOUNTAINs of Dahlonega.  

"Worry Not my child.  I will take care of you.  I will provide for you.  I will protect you."   -God

He was talking to me.  Not Joshua.  Taking care of me equals taking care of my husband.  Protecting me means protecting my husband.

Joshua did not wreck.  He moved over to the side of the road- where there 'just happened' to be a little 'side road' for him to park Blue on.  Out of the way of the crazy drivers.  Out of the way.  Safe.

Thanks, Lord.  You love me sooo much.

The Prayers of a Little Child

Zoe. Oh Zoe.

Today- I was plagued with a monstrous headache. I mean- it was long lasting- exhausting- painful- just plain ol' BAD headache!

At the YMCA is where it initially started. The girls' are doing "Homeschool P.E." and I was trying to get in some work out time. Nope. I couldn't do it. It was a sweet (So Sweet) blessing to get to LAY DOWN outside the pool area there, in the bright sunshine, and take a short nap- in an effort to get the pain to at least dwindle down to bearable.

I put in my ear buds- had nice queue of quiet worship playing, and felt rested when I went back inside to get the girls out of their "class". And God allowed my headache to sufficiently dwindle down so that I could, in fact, bear the pain.

I made an attempt at a caffeine remedy via Starbucks on the way home, but it didn't actually help at all. All 3 of my amazingly awesome girls took a nap once we got home.... and after about 30 minutes of their napping, I caved and decided to go up to my bed for another rest. (P.S. I also took tylenol- no help)

JUST as I was making my way up the stairs, I saw the curly curls of a certain 4 year old at the top of our 1970's green paisley carpeted stairwell. "HEY MOMMY!!!! Can i come downstairs now??!!!"

"Oh.... hey Zoe-Zoe....... Hmmm??. You know what!?!? Will you come lay down in my bed with me for juuuust a few minutes? Mommy's head hurts really bad- so I should take a little rest." (Mommy and Daddy's bed is typically OFF limits. Joshua has made it a rule- no kids in the bed- so it's a very rare instance that either of us would invite them to lay down with us)

"OH SURE, Mommy!!! I'll come lay down with you" (I wish you all could hear the spunk and joy in our Zoe's voice.)

I layed down on 'Daddy's' side of the bed, and she did a hoppity plop onto my side of the bed. She lays down.... for about 3 seconds. And hops right back up- and looks over at me with huge, inquisitive sparkly blue eyes.

"Mommy? Your head hurts really bad?"

"Ya, Zoe. It hurts really bad. I just need to lay down and be very quiet for a little tiny bit"

"Okay.... Don't give your headache to ME Mommy! Ok?!?" (genuine joy poured out with those words)

A few seconds later:

"Does your head still hurt?"

"Yeah. It does."

"Awwwww. Ok Mommy (insert VERY excited voice) I'll PRAY FOR YOU!!!! 'Dear Jesus please help mommy's head not hurt-amen'. Does it still hurt, Mommy?" (and she lays her sweet hand on my head)

At this point, I'm faced with somewhat of a dilema. My head DOES still hurt. In fact, it hurts terribly! BUT- I've just been prayed for by the enormous faith of a little child! I know that my head will quit hurting soon- so my answer was this:

"Yeah, Zoe. My head hurts right now- but you just prayed for it to NOT hurt, so I'm going to lay here very patiently, and very quietly and wait for it to quit hurting. It will quit hurting. I just have to be patient."

In a loud whisper, she says "Ok Mommy...... We'll be patient!"

I offered her a sincere Thank You for praying for me. And she layed her little hand on my head again and gave me a "you're welcome" in return.

She continued to hop and plop and bounce and talk while I layed there. Patiently. As quiet as I could be. As still as one could get with a lively 4 year old laying beside them.

I asked Zoe to sing me a song about Jesus while we waited. (No. I'm not that "super spiritual"- I was selfishly trying to get her to stop asking me questions and to stop bouncing so I could rest)

And so she asked!....... "Is the ABC song about Jesus?" (no? not really) "Is Twinkle Little Star about Jesus? (um? kind of.) "OH! I KNOW! JESUS LOVES ME! Is that about Jesus?" (yes. it is... and I couldn't help it- I started giggling. She is so innocent. So genuine.)

"OK. GOOD! I'll sing THAT song."

But she didn't sing the traditional "Jesus Loves Me This I Know...."

She sang "Jesus Loves Me. He loves me. He loves you. Jesus loves me. He's so strong. He's so goooooood."

(not at all to the tune of the traditional song, either. it was to the tune of "Zoe's voice"- the sweet happy joyful playful jubilant tune of Zoe)

While she was singing, I was praying "God. Please let me remember everything she's singing- so I can write it down. Please don't let me forget. Please let me remember this time I get with Zoe"

After her song- she jumped on and off the bed in search of books to 'read' to me. I dozed a little. And she bounced back on the bed- put her little hand on my head (again) and said "HEY! Your headache is gone. I just felt it. It's gone."

She waited. Patiently. For my headache to be gone. And she was just as, if not more, excited as I was when it had no longer held me down.

And here's what I got out of that time with Zoe.

A) God will heal us. We just have to wait. Patiently. Quietly. We have to wait. We may not be 'healed' in the way WE thought we'd be healed. But we will ,indeed- be healed.

B) As frustrating and seriously painful as that headache was- as certain as I am that Satan had an agenda for that headache- GOD turned it into a beautiful, priceless time spent with Zoe- I'll endure many more headaches and more and more pain if need be to gain that quality time with all of my girls. I don't want to HAVE TO endure the pain- but I will.

There's no way to explain how important it is for me to stop and be still long enough to savor the years of my daughters' youth.

Kyla- The Lord layed out some awesome conviction today where my incredible 6 year old is concerned. I'll have to fill in the blanks at a later time- but as a reminder to myself- it has to do with an evening out with a friend to listen to Christine Cain teach tonight at Free Chapel. To her daughter she spoke "You are beautiful and intellegent. You are the head, and not the tail. You are a leader and not a follower. You are above and not beneath........" That's my conviction. To speak life into my daughters'! Why haven't I been doing that all along!!?!

Leah- She is a cuddle-bug through and through- and she's been missing out on cuddles and lovin' time with her Mommy. Her behavior reflects that she, too, is missing out on quality time that she needs and deserves. Why oh why have I been BLIND to the needs and desires of my girls'? Or was it not that I was blind, but very, very selfish with my time? Probably the latter. I am so selfish where time management is concerned, especially!

And Zoe.... I'm so thankful that today was a Zoe day. Zoe. The Life of God. The prayers of a little child- certainly heard, and beautifully delivered. Thank you Jesus!

Go Back to Start

Nothing seems to drain Hope and Courage out of me faster (and harsher) than when my marriage is going wrong. I know I'm not the only spouse that has felt this way... with the current divorce rate averaging 50%.... I'm going to assume that atleast half of the people I know (that are married) have, at one point or another, felt discouraged and hopeless about their marriage.



There are tremendous 'ups', and outrageous 'downs' in this relationship! It seems as if over the past 9 years we've been playing this sort of board game. We're on 'start' in the beginning, trying to figure each other out, learn how to communicate, and create a partnership to go along with the love and friendship that ignited the desire to marry in the first place; we roll the dice and land on various 'tiles' in this board game: Start a business, have a baby, buy a house, start a new career, buy a car, etc. etc. etc.



Here's the problem with this board game (a metaphor for my marriage):
After each advancement to a new tile, we draw a card that says "Go Back To Start"...... But we always 'cheat', ignoring the rules in an effort to hurry along to the next tile. So, after our first baby was born, instead of relearning how to communicate, budget, etc.. ("going back to start"), we assumed we'd be fine doing what we'd always done; despite the major change we had added to our life.



We've NEVER gone back to start. Instead, we draw a bunch of "Move Back 10 Spaces" and we don't get the option to 'cheat' and ignore that card's orders. This disables us from moving on with the game (the marriage), keeping us stuck on tiles that we have been on, over and over and OVER again. And what is the typical response to an individual that can't seem to advance, whether it be a game, a career, a relationship (or whatever)? Quit!


Just quit.... is what over 50% of our brains tell us to do. And I'm just going to go out on a limb here, and assume that like 97.6% of our brains are actually 'telling' us to quit, but only around 1/2 listen to that prompt.

My brain has been screaming at me, telling me that if I don't go on back to "start" I'll never advance, and I will have to quit [my marriage].

My heart, my spirit, THE TRUTH tells me to suck it up, though. And I also know that it's not so much my 'brain' prompting me quit, as much as it is Satan.

I have a beautiful friend, an incredible blessing in my life. God knew I'd need her, and He gave her a boldness to speak to me in Truth, and in Love so that I would hear what He would being saying to me if He were in the flesh sitting beside me.


When I was confessing my anger and hurt, and frustration in regard to the challenges I've faced in my marriage, she said to me

"Amber. What if this is your cross to bear? What if GOD is using this to teach you how to deal with your struggles?"


AND BAM! That was it. I got out of my 'woe is me' pit and just went over that statement with myself, thinking about how TRUE it is that my own problems have nothing to do with him.

Screeech. Hold on. Let me stop here. I need to clarify (confess, admit, show some skin, whatever) my 'struggle'. I have a really (REALLY) hard time conrolling my emotions. In short, my struggle is 'self-control', but it manifest itself in my marriage as ANGER.


So? Do I think God is 'making' my marriage bad? Is He 'allowing' the issues in our marriage to remain, in order to teach me 'self-control'???

NO! And if anyone tried to convince me of this, I'd laugh in their face. ( That's not how My GOD rolls....)

He is just sweet enough, and LOVING enough to USE the hardship I face during the crappy times in my marriage. As in- "My grace is sufficient for you, and my strength is made perfect in weakness" (When it sucks big time and you're at your lowest, God's grace is enough, and HIS strength is enabled to come out)


So, where I would have NOT A CLUE how to get a grasp on self-control, God takes it upon Himself to use a bad situation (a problem with in my marriage) that almost always makes me fail and lose control (get angry and act stupid), to show me where I am weak, and where I lack. And then, He allows me to make a choice...

Do I use this [fill in the blank 'issue' with in my marriage] to practice self-control and get a grasp on my anger, or do I let it go to waste, and see nothing good out of this bad?

I hope I choose the former more and more, because the latter is a stupid choice.

The Bridge is...... Where?

No matter how hard I try to maintain a consistent flow of routine, the randomness of life seems to build a big o' dam, creating a stagnent pool of chaos. -aka

I guess I'll be needing a bridge, then? Cool. Where is it? Huh?! I have to build it? Riiight.... I'll just pull out my engineer degree and stick it over here beside my architect of the year award, and then get right to work!

I know that's sarcastic and probably a little rude. I'm actually not mad or frustrated as I write this, so it's really more of a matter of getting the point across to myself. I am aware that my hands are tied down, double knotted, and that much (not all) of life's craziness is completely out of my control. There have been too many times that I put myself into a pit of self-condemnation; "Why can't you do that? What's wrong with you? Just make it happen!". So, creating a 'you ain't got no bridge' pep talk seems to work well for traveling back to reality.

God is an all knowing God, so when I vent my 'what if's', it's just smoke. The junk that creates that smoke will burn out soon enough, and I'll be back to my old self. For now? It's burning, so I'm venting. Stop reading now if you like.

And now the vent:
Why did somebody not tell me that getting married at (barely) 19 was a bad, bad BAD idea?
Don't get me wrong- I married the right man (right, God?) but I ask myself over and over what would have happened had I said "You know- let's just wait until I go to school before we make this kind of commitment. Let's just wait until we each have a career."

You know why we didn't think about these practical, reasonable things prior to jumping in the car and driving to TN to elope (having our ceremony months later)? HORMONES! Truthfully (uh, oh- we're getting PG-13 here) we couldn't keep our hands off of each other, and we couldn't STAND the guilt of going too far before we were married. And, who cares if I get judged, that's just the truth. My husband and I never dated. We were friends. And when we weren't 'just friends' anymore, it was dangerous for us to be alone together! We had way too many opportunities to be alone!

See? I know the truth. But I still wonder why we had to fall in love so young? Geesh. We couldn't stand each other when we were younger heathens.... God could have waited to allow that spark to catch fire a little longer, couldn't He?

And on to my next vent. WHY!?! did we have babies before we knew what we were doing with our life? I mean- a mom at 22? Then a second baby at 24? And number 3 at age 26? I guess the answer to that is "HORMONES", too. Dang it.

I am a stay at home mom- my career is consuming. There is no day care, there is no babysitter, and I don't even have a grandparent to take my children to if I have an appointment or if I just need a break. It's all me, baby! I get no sick days, I get no paid vacation!

I can't force a bridge to pop up into my life that will get me over the chaos of being a busy mom with out help. As much as I desire a formal education in medicine, it's not happening. As much as I desire a schedule, the rule of mommy-hood laughs in my face, "Ha! Schedule! Routine?! Not for you Miss Mommy."

And even when I have a place to escape, a place with child-care, a place I love and find myself totally attached to; Even then I have to give myself the "You ain't got no bridge, honey!" talk. Because snotty noses and red eyes, and The Common Crud prevent the use of that child-care. And where does that leave me? Inside the dammed pool.

*side note: I am in love with my children, and I'm so thankful for the opportunity to raise them in our home, and to educate them under our roof. I am thankful, and wouldn't want anything different for their life! Well? Maybe a maid.... and an occassional babysitter? :0)

Convenient Store Goodies

Tonight, on my way home, I stopped by the local Chevron for a fill up. I had to prepay because I was using cash; and while I was waiting in line, I noticed a man and his 3 boys. The man was maybe mid 30's? His sons were around 5, 7, and 10? Just a guess. And these boys were quiet, and well mannered as they scoured the aisles in search of the treat that their Daddy had apparently promised them. The Dad was just hanging out, casually looking around like he didn't have anywhere to be at 9:30 pm on a Thursday night. He was waiting patiently, lovingly, tenderly; he was allowing his children to take their time. And when they had each picked out their prize, he calmly paid $9 for their treats, and walked them out to his older model van.

It reminded me of the times I spent with my Dad on the weekends. My dad was like this man. My dad's thermostat was always set on 'chill'. He could have cared less that my sister and I spent so long trying to figure out what treat we wanted. Would it be candy? A coke? Oh! Chips!?!?! It took us forever.... because we never got treats when we were with our mom. Our mom woudn't even let us out of the car to so much as look at all the treats inside the store. I have to admit I resented her for it. She wasn't patient like my Daddy. She wasn't tender like the man at the store tonight. Grace wasn't really a word she understood, giving wasn't really an act she was accustom to.

The most heart breaking part of this journal is that I realized tonight, inside that gas station, that I suck at being a mom! I have not yet learned the err of my mother's ways, because I was being just like her! If I needed to pay for gas, it was absolutely out of the question to bring all 3 girls inside that store with me just so I could hand the cashier a $20 bill and grab my receipt. And I most certainly did not have the time, and oh! not even the least bit of energy to wait around while a 3 and a 5 year old spend minute after minute making a decision about a junk food choice that would cost way more than our budget to afford. No.... uh-uh... this Mommy has places to be, children to feed, laundry to wash, dishes to clean, floors to sweep..... oh (SIGH). I understand now why my mom handled us in such a harsh manner. I get it now. But I didn't get it then! And back then is when it mattered the most to me.



I know I'm busy, and sure!, I know that 'one day when they are older and have kids of their own' my girls will understand why I was so tense, and impatient, and unwilling to let them pick out a treat from the gas station, or even the grocery store. But NOW is when it matters to them. Now is when they need me to be so sweet, and tender, and loving, and patient. Now is when they need to think that they are special enough to walk into a convenient store and pick out an insanely over priced item as their prize. Not because they were good enough or obedient, but because it just happened to be a Friday afternoon, and I happened to need gas, and they happened to be in the car with me when I filled up.

Because that's what I really wanted my mom to do... and she didn't take the time to show me how much she loved me, whether it was a special treat, or a bit of quality 'mommy daughter' time, or even a snuggle beside her while we watched a movie. There wasn't a whole lot of love being shown, though I understand that she did truly love me. I want my girls to know, with out any part of their minds doubting it, that I adore them, and cherish them! And I would gladly give up a measly 10 minutes of my stressed out, overwhelmed life to make them feel important, even if it's something as simple as a walk down the candy aisle at Chevron.

Early to bed, Early to rise

Why do I do this to myself??? WHY do I not go to bed, especially when I'm having to put forth a strong physical effort just to hold my eyelids open!! My eyebrow bone literally aches from the strain of staying awake. My body is telling me to sleep. And to do it NOW! But I'm a rebel and do nothing until I absolutely have to do it. Oh-So-Not-Good!

I've been the night-owl, stay awake until morning kind of girl for a double digit number of years. Way before marriage, children, or an endless to-do list I keep hanging on my refridgerator.
Why do I have such a hard time getting awake in the morning?? Seriously!?! The morning is when I start the good snooze. Waking up is torture after just a few hours of dream land.

Change. Change. Change. Change.

Once upon a time I set a goal to be in bed by 10pm and awake by 6am. I was succesfull for a week..... AN ENTIRE WEEK! Tommorow, I will start at day one. And maybe form a habit of being old... um... I mean.... being on time to sleepy town.