hindsight

its the rear view mirror that used to get me. drawing me closer and closer in, checking frequently to see all that was behind me. turns in the road, pot holes, pit stops, blind spots. all of it. constantly causing me to look back and wonder. to wonder what if. what if i had made better choices, different choices. what if id taken fewer detours and made less wrong turns. what if i could look back and never see the lines of regret carefully lining all the lanes behind me. what if i had spent less time lost?

im great at second guessing. fabulous really. i can spend so much time wondering and thinking about the past that i am left paralyzed in my present and oblivious to my future. i can over analyze, daydream and rewind at a moments notice, drawing myself into thoughts that are carefully hidden, lying just beneath the surface of me. i can retrace the map of my life with intense detail and am quick to recognize where the slightest turn in my past could have forever altered my future. and there was a time when journeying down these roads of my past would leave me full of questions about my present.

there was a moment, when i had been looking so intensely in my rear view mirror, i almost ran off the road. i slammed on the brakes and pulled over. i stopped in my tracks and was scared to death of where i had ended up, mindlessly driving ahead while only focusing on what was behind. i was in disbelief when i finally looked up and scarcely recognized the landscape of my life around me. i caught my breath and prayed the clumsiest of prayers...something like 'take this from me. the second guessing and the regret. the what ifs and the wondering. the pain. the curiosity. the blame. all of it. please. amen.' i spent moments on my knees, waiting and hoping, tears streaming and heart pounding knowing that He who had kept me on the road moments before would hear me. i waited. and waited. and waited.

i soon began to feel something changing within me and around me. a palpable feeling of being released. i spent some time getting used to that feeling, the weight of it, the smell of it, the feeling of being free. it was awkward (as you can only imagine if youve carried something for so long to be absent from it) and different. wonderfully and beautifully different. there was an ease within me i had been without for so long. i couldnt find a part of me to store up anymore contentment. this amazing God, with His amazing grace had reached down and changed me. He took the map and lovingly showed me in flashes of my past and moments in my future where i had missed Him. where i was completely oblivious to His divine presence in all my journeys, even ones riddled with wrong turns and backtracking. when i looked again, this time closer with a clarity i had never known i could easily recognize the course He had laid out before me. there were no roads without purpose and no turns without reason. no need for regrets and second guessing. i was precisely where He intended for me to be at this moment, resting securely in His plan.

when the relief turned to joy and the joy turned to peace and the peace turned to a quiet calm, i realized my heart was no longer racing and i was ready to get back on the road. i started driving again, this time with purpose and gratitude and when i felt the urge to check my past out of habit and curiosity, i saw nothing for the mirror had so graciously been removed.

speechless

this happened in my house, in my kitchen to be exact yesterday while georgia and i were 'discussing' her beverage choices. she is the ONLY person in the world i have met thus far that leaves me speechless, recklessly grabbing for words that are simply not there. im dumbfounded and frustrated at best. and a little pissed and fed up at worst. the dialogue went like this:

gk: mommy, may i have some milk please?
me: no, sweetie, your tummy was upset this morning, so we are going to stick with water for the afternoon.
gk: but why?? i really want my milk. just a little glass, please...
me: no. not today. your choice is water or nothing. milk is not good for an upset tummy.
gk: YES it is...it will make me STRONG...you said that, remember?
me: yes, i remember, but we are not going to discuss this any further. water or nothing. please stop arguing with mommy.
gk: im not arguing.
me: yes you are.
gk: no im not.
me: yes, georgia, you are and its disrespectful.
gk: no im not being disrespectful.
me: STOP it right now. (i typically change my tone, but rarely my volume. with the sudden change in volume...i got results...just not the ones i was hoping for)
gk: (real tears...and a look of horror on her face) mommy...you, you just yelled at me.
silence....
me: georgia, im sorry i yelled. its not okay to yell like that in our home. honey, please forgive me and lets try really hard to be respectful and not argue with mommy. okay?
gk: its okay mama. we'll try harder....and im only just a little disappointed in you.

so there i was speechless. stupid. without words or a comeback. seriously, at that moment i was just thankful i use words like 'disappointed' and not 'failure' because that would have really left me feeling like junk. i dont know what to do about my 3 year old trying to parent me. im at a loss as usual with this one and would love any suggestions.

boys

so i know raising a son will be much different and dirtier than raising a daughter (ive been peed on enough times to have at least a basic understanding of the 'messier than chicks' factor by now) . ive seen it with all of my friends with boys and truth be told i really cant wait for the dirt, bugs and countless injuries that seem to inevitably accompany the role of 'boy'. but what im far more concerned about is raising a man. i am consumed with thoughts of 'what kind of man will my sweet boy become?' thats it for me. the challenge of raising a son is that one day he will be a man raising his own family and while i dont want to get too far ahead of myself (too late i hear you saying...) i am trying to see the big picture here. or at least the most important part of a small one. i didnt marry a sissy. i didnt pick a big baby to father my kids and lead our family and i dont expect anyone else to want to either. so here it is in size 12 font...i want to raise a boy who will one day be a man of courage and integrity, compassion and conviction, with a strong sense of gratitude and generosity. who unabashadly chases hard after his goals and is not intimidated by failure. i dont have any idea how to instill these attributes in him other than to take comfort and hope in knowing he will see all of these in his father. i feel like ive already done the best that i can do for jack simply by picking the right man for him to emulate.

i heard a friend the other night pull his two year old son aside for a teaching moment after he had hit georgia. amid the nuggets of wisdom he passed on was a simple order to 'never ever hit a girl'. the boys mama (a dear friend of mine) rolled her eyes and said to me he should never hit anyone. and while i love that she is steadfast in teaching him some basic manners for functioning in life, i love the fact that his dad is already laying the foundation for one of the many man laws that govern a boys life. you never hit a girl. and while bullying is off limits and picking a fight is wrong, there are certain times when standing up for or protecting what is sacred to you may be worth a fight. and perhaps this truth in all its complexity may be best understood later in life (after the tender and impressionable age of 2), but i commend him for speaking his truth to his sweet boy now. we are all only teaching and learning one moment at a time anyway and im confident the opportunity will arise to impart additional details of the 'no hit' rule in the future.

its just one of the many things that is different in parenting a son. we are created differently on purpose by a Creator who had a pretty perfect plan and while it may be a source of debates on equality and fairness and a source of contention with all the feminazis of the world, we should not be trying to raise a generation of boys to be the same as a generation of girls. there are certain truths and differences that are undeniable and shouldnt be hampered or discouraged under the guise of equality but rather nurtured and encouraged as Divine inspired unique qualities to be celebrated and strengthened. i want jack to be able to throw a football and change a tire. he doesnt have to love football (or fulfill a dream of being a left handed pitcher...his dream i swear) nor should he feel pressure to have a love of cars, but at some point those two skills will be useful. i want him to instinctively open a door for a woman or a stranger out of a desire to be polite and kind. he does not need to sing coom by ya at the nursing home on sundays to be a good man and i could care less if he wants to be a boy scout, but basic kindness and a willingness to serve others is a sign of compassion and a cornerstone of a strong character.

a few other important skills...movie lines and sound effects. he needs to have a basic database for both. (again, thank God we have patrick around...) i dont care if he loves that stupid movie blazing saddles, but almost every other boy/man in the world has an inexplicable knowledge and affection for it...i dont get it, but hopefully this can be one of the many things that just he and his dad understand about one another. and star wars. please dont get me started. lets just say he will be exposed in some grand fashion at an age too young for my liking but i will simply shut up and color and watch the bonding occur...and then be on call for a week to soothe the nightmares that follow. sound effects are critical (and im not being over dramatic here either) to the development of a boys mind...i refuse to buy any toys that make all the noises for him...im telling you they are robbing him of a God given skill that he may never tap into if playschool and mattel have their way with him. have you met a guy in his twenties, thirties or forties who cant make the sound of an explosion or car?? tragic im telling you. borderline pathetic, really.

alas, i dont have all the answers (or even a few if im being honest) about how to go about raising a man when i only have him for a few brief years as a boy, but my hope is that the One who so generously gave him to me will partner with patrick and i as we try. and inevitably fail at this awesome and exciting opportunity that we have been given to hopefully raise up the kind of man that will one day be used by Him to do many things great and small for His purpose. and if he can quote happy gilmore or tommy boy word for word and throw a fast pitch, all the better.

road words

i was out shopping today and came across a few interesting things...

1. shiny black mazda miata with one large bumper sticker on the back that read in caps:: BACK OFF-I'M A GODDESS. i laughed a bit and couldnt wait to pass this goddess in my lane and see her in all her splendor. she turned out to be pushing 85 years old with a head full of white hair, chandelier earrings and rings on every finger she had gripping the wheel. i almost wrecked and thought for a moment maybe she was some sort of goddess.

2. p.o.s. car with a license plate that said 'LV KABUL'. i still dont know if he loves kabul, wants to leave kabul or simply lives kabul. i wish he would have been clearer.

3. big arse 18 wheeler (purple no less) honking and waving at me as i drove by. initially i thought my car was on fire. until he sped up and did it again with a semi toothless smile. wow. let me cross 4 lanes of traffic, have you follow me and offer you my number. has this EVER worked for you in the history of your trucking career?? im a little insecure these days with my appearance, im even a little desperate for an upgrade, but seriously...even i, in my fragile state, find this pathetic and funny.

4. went to the childrens place looking for shoes for the peach. i just want to make it clear right now...STOP trying to dress my little girl like a hooker. she has no business wearing heels. for that matter, no little girl does. i have a lot of gray areas but there is never an excuse for dressing my 3 year old like a 23 year old just trying to make money for college....dancing.

5. i have lived a lot of different places and ive seen a lot of crazy drivers...(you fellow amerikoreanites, yes this the technical term for having lived over there) we barely survived the streets of asia, but living here is comparable. less people per car, nicer make and model but clearly the drugs are being trafficked over here, too. d.c. drivers drive around with the greatest sense of entitlement i have ever seen, as if i should be grateful to have their beamer cutting me off in traffic or i should feel relieved that they decided to let me merge while traffic is at a standstill. its called common courtesy people, not an overly generous act.

6. if the crossing bar is down over the h.o.v. lane, are three barrels really necessary? or is this just novas way of giving everyone a jobby job?

7. bumper sticker with the obama circle...hOnk if youre paying my mortgage.

8. sign on the back of a mini van that read: CAUTION: SHOW DOGS. as if this isnt absurd enough, there was a picture of dachsunds under it. wth?? i could understand the sign if it said: CAUTION: BADNEWZ KENNELS or CAUTION: VICKS SHOW DOGS. but, why should i be any more cautious around your van of dachshunds than any other car on the road? really, you think i would swerve to miss your van a wee bit more because of your lovely warning? i can see it now us cruising down the interstate at 75 mph when all of the sudden dachshund van rolls up...quick! everyone SLOW DOWN...BE CAUTIOUS...thats a van full of SHOW DACHSHUNDS!!

good talk

we are not human beings going through a

temporary spiritual experience.

we are spiritual beings going through a

temporary human experience.

the end of the day

at the end of the day i am hopelessly flawed, unbelievably exhausted, surprisingly content and overwhelmed with gratitude. at the end of the day i still believe coffee is magical and better than any drug i can imagine, that margaritas with chips and salsa is a perfectly balanced meal and that laundry can always wait. at the end of the day i am the luckiest woman i know to have my best friend beside me and my two most treasured gifts just a few steps away. at the end of the day, im discovering who i am in the quiet moments where my mind is still carrying on the craziness of the day even while my body battles for it to rest. i lie awake asking God a barrage of questions, some silly and small, some great and complex all the while waiting and expecting brilliant and loving answers. i throw concerns and thanks His way, unloading them from my already heavy baggage and let Him do the unpacking. at the end of the day, i know who i have been, who i am becoming and most of all who i long to be. i know i love being a mother and have never looked back at the work of my past, but have instead grabbed a hold of my present in the grip of tiny hands and begun molding my future one teaching and loving moment at a time. at the end of the day, i know i have been given a tremendous gift and opportunity to be the one wiping noses, attending spontaneous tea parties and capturing all of their firsts firsthand. at the end of the day, i am profoundly grateful for the people in my life and the realization that material possessions hold such an insignificant place in my days...and im sorry it took me too many years to crack that now ridiculously easy code. at the end of the day i have my health, such a tremendous blessing in itself, to be used chasing and nurturing the hearts and minds of little people who will one day be big people entirely too soon...and i will be left longing for more time with them. at the end of the day, i can be uneasy and conflicted about so many things, but completely at peace with others...like answering the call of motherhood with all of me and trusting His provisions and plans are never flawed like my own. at the end of the day i rest under a thick blanket of grace, keeping me humble and ready for the next day. at the end of the day i am consumed with curiosity and eager for the revealation of gifts and surprises of tomorrow. and at the end of the day i have more than i could have ever imagined and am living the best days of my life, imperfections and all.

i should know better

im not quite sure what my issue is as of late. perhaps its the daily struggle to shower or more accurately disguise the fact i havent..thank goodness for hats, pony tails and bronzer...they go a long way in times of hygiene drought. but im realizing after the liquid liner ordeal, the threading fiasco and now my most recent attempt at upgrading my blah self that i may have a problem.

all i had to do was pick up a prescription for the peach. thats it. there was nothing else in that entire cvs that needed my time or attention. however, i could not resist the magnetic pull to the cosmetic aisle. why?? i have no idea. i have already confessed i rotate my wardrobe between 4 exciting colors...black, grey, white and brown. i avoid prints and patterns and havent changed my limited cosmetic routine since 8th grade when i did, in a moment of fleeting adolescent clarity, finally quit wearing electric blue eyeliner (there was an audible collective sigh by my parents). but in spite of my unwillingness to change anything permanently, i am more than willing to throw money away on countless possibilities...like the silver mac eyeshadow that looks awesome if your rocking wings down a victorias secret runway or the shimmerific bronzer that looks like i rolled my nose in georgias glitter. and then theres the smudge liner intended to give you a smoky eye, which leaves me looking more like a strung out heroin addict without the waif like frame.

but here i was again, dangerously sampling every product under the sun imagining all of the possible scenarios in which they wouldnt leave me looking like a clown. i walked up and down each aisle until something shiny caught my eye. hmmm. lip inflation. sounds fun. i noticed it was very glossy and looked fabulous on the model...as if theyd really try and sell their product with an eye catching ugly chic. it was even packaged in gold. must be nice. i tossed it in my basket along with some butterscotch chapstick (i know its completely pathetic that i cant even resist desserts when i cant eat them) and some water proof funky brush mascara.

once home i retreated to the bathroom to begin sampling my new treasures. first, the butterscotch chapstick. yum. it smelled so wonderful i added cookies to my mental shopping list. then i applied the water proof mascara which had a brush that looked like a sea creature...wth? is this seriously supposed to work? trusting the experts in cosmetic land, i applied a quick coat. too quick. it ended up on no less than 3 places other than my eyes. hmm. i began the tried and true quick dab method at which time it smudged and became permanently affixed to my fingers as well. no biggie. i began vigorously rinsing my hands under the sink only to realize this mascara was staying firmly put. after rubbing the spots on my face, the only evidence that it was working were the red marks that now surrounded the sharpie like mascara spots. nice. without the patience to mix up the turpentine to remove my mascara i moved onto the gold lip inflation. i applied one coat, then two. it smelled like cinnamon and was super shiny. how nice. for a brief moment i was able to avert my eyes from the sharpie spots and see the shiny gloss. i was happily thinking 2 out of 3 is better than my usual odds when i began to feel the burn. super fire hot burn. my lips were on fire. i wanted to stop drop and roll in the sink. i grabbed a towel and wiped my mouth, hoping that the blistering sensation would end.

and it did after scrubbing the top layer of skin off of my lips. what began as an enthusiastic attempt at subtle change ended with me looking like a victim of an attack by a drunk monkey with a sharpie and piece of sandpaper. mark my words...i am DONE with change. done. keep me accountable to that statement if you happen to hear me discussing any of the latest and greatest in cosmetics. ive decided they are all lies aimed at inflicting mass torture on already tired and hopelessly insecure women. or is that just me??

threading

there are three things that instantly make me feel a thousand times better about myself...i would love to say its kind gestures from a thoughtful mate (like the roses that arrived last week) or words of affirmation from a sweet three year old (like the 'youre a great valentine' props from the peach), but unfortunately im just not that great of a person. the three things that always make me feel better are: a tan, freshly waxed eyebrows and a shift down (ever so slight) on the scale. its that simple. im that simple. so last week while out with a friend when she mentioned this new threading thing she had done to her brows, my interest was peaked. i decided then that the first opportunity i had sans little people, i would try out this new and exciting brow shaping thing.

four days later i found myself in an interesting salon (i use 'salon' very loosely as there was the faint smell of possum urine and hazy green smoke lingering) without an appointment. nice woman from nepal puts down some strange cuisine and comes over just as the smell was having me reconsider the whole thing. i explained i was a threading virgin and was up for the thrill of manicured brows. it was at this moment with my excitement reaching an unnaturally climactic high that i realized i dont get out nearly enough. nepali chick realized it too and joining in my unnatural joy, enthusiastically led me to a seat. and while i was hoping for some cucumber water or tea, the ripped plastic chair and weird smell were all the ambiance i was going to get.

she jerked my head back and began rubbing my brows before threading a long piece of string through her fingers and...mouth. at this point i closed my eyes and happily imagined aveda like thoughts. she kindly explained i would need to hold my brow area taut to make her job a bit easier. fine. no more pretending i was somewhere else, i now had to actively participate in this fun. whatever. at this point there is some rapid ripping of brow hair going on and it is only the thought of what might happen if i move keeping me stiff and still as a board in the seat. she says something about me being 'strong lady' and 'handle pain well' as she continues tearing hair out at an alarmingly fast rate. never one to just shut up and color, i cannot resist the urge to chime in with 'well, i did have a baby not too long ago'...ha ha ha. lame, i know and pretty stupid since at the time of having a baby i had no feeling in my body, was ready to run away with my anesthesiologist and wouldnt have known the difference between birthing a baby human or elephant calf. anyway, she finishes up with one brow and while there is still a slight stinging sensation going on the entire side of my face, im not about to cut this session short with one brow looking great and the other looking like ive just spent 3o days on survivor. besides, after having my pain tolerance talked up, im feeling a wee bit over confident. mostly because im an idiot and partly because its just that easy to stroke my fragile ego.

and so begins the other side. or as i now refer to it, 'the side of hell'. within moments of me once again holding my brow taut for the brow ripping, i realize the only thing keeping my entire body from flinching out of the chair is the flexing of every muscle i have. i begin to remember one of the girls at the salon i worked at in college telling me everyone has an 'easy' brow and a 'hard' brow. basically one that lets go of the hair easier and one that doesnt. clearly, we have just discovered which is which for me. nice lady now starts saying things like, 'tearing is very normal' and 'this wont take much longer' and finally, 'a lot of people cry a bit'. nice. im not crying, i simply cannot control the excessive watering that is now coming from my eye.

the good news is, they really look much better than a wax, there is no redness (although based on the pain level, i was surprised there wasnt blood dripping from my face) and she assured me that it would be less painful next time. yes, but will it still smell like possum piss?

jdubs dedication

We had the privilege of dedicating Jack recently. Many have asked what that means. Without going into a lengthy discussion or explanation, the short version is we have publicly sought the support, encouragement, accountability and prayers of those present and loved ones far away in raising him to know, love, serve and wholeheartedly pursue after our amazing Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We have the tremendous blessing of having our own families seeking the same pursuits. We have amazing parents who love, guide and pray for us continually. We have siblings who model Christ's love to us and to their children. We are forever grateful for the families that God chose to place us in and know that His provisions have been abundant. It is the love of our families and the love of Christ we have always seen in them that led us to where we are today, dedicating our own beloved son to the One who generously gave him to us. We are always mindful that He has entrusted His precious child, Jack, to us to love, nurture and most importantly guide to Him. We will one day be held accountable for what we do and do not do as his parents and our greatest hope and prayer is that our Father who gave him to us is pleased with us as we seek His will daily. We know the time will come when Jack will be responsible for his own choices as he travels his journey of faith and our hope is that he will seek to know God and His infinite love for him. We were blessed to share the day with close friends, Angie & Dave Faggard, Jim & Tricia Friddell and Amy & Brian Moore. His outfit was made with love by his Grandma Sutherland and will be a treasured reminder of this special day.

nastay...a tad worse than nasty

just the other day patrick asked if jack needed a diaper change and without hesitation i promptly buried my nose in the diapered rear of our youngest. and it hit me...i am a different person than i was just a short 3 years ago. i am doing things i would have never believed i was capable of...like smelling butts and leaping out of a dead sleep to answer the call of an inquisitive child at 3 am. the list of what im doing on a daily basis no longer surprises me which is somewhat remarkable if you could only see my days. i wiped snot from georgia on my jeans today. its not that i didnt want to retrieve a respectable tissue, its just that my options were somewhat limited with jack and georgia coordinating their 'need to eat' and their 'need to sneeze' to be the exact same time. and, yes, its disgusting. i would gag if i saw you do it and pretend that i hadnt done the same and yet, i regularly find myself doing the most disgusting of things. today, while changing a diaper, the fountain started and i threw a burp cloth on his little man. i found the same burp cloth, unlaundered, laying on the floor hours later. gross. i also realized gk had used it as a towel for one of her babies moments earlier. double gross. ive inspected finger tips for boogies and butt cheeks for hidden poop. im telling you, im not proud. im appalled, really, at all that i do without flinching, but this is my new reality. and i love my new reality.

we made heart cakes tonight for patrick. we dropped egg shells in the batter, licked the spoon while stirring and sampled the batter...with raw eggs and all. we watched them rise and fall in the oven, added yellow food coloring to the icing on accident and then corrected our mistake with 17 drops of red which left an orangey reddish hue on the cake and did god only knows what to our bodies. it was at around drop 15 i remembered there being some article years ago about the harmful effects of red dye...im assuming it pertained to big m&m factories, not food coloring plants, but either way, i dropped two more in there in my final attempt at 'pink' cakes. and while they werent exactly pink, they were smothered and covered and piled unhealthily high with mounds of orangey red frosting and delivered to patrick with the honest question from the heart of a 3 year old...will you be my valentine? he melted. but only for a moment because this question was immediately followed up with, 'can i have a bite?' and so it goes. my days that start with an audible alarm and end with prayers at the bedsides of the little people.

tomorrow will be another day filled to the brim with moments that melt my heart or make me gag. either way, im blessed and content. and living a completely different life than a short 3 years ago. thank goodness for the whole of it...the good, the bad and the utterly nastay.

the truth

the truth is you cant fix crazy she told me. and i believe her now more than ever before. we watched the forest of families and friendships burn from the edge, sometimes still feeling the cool of the other side, sometimes feeling the burn. the person we spoke of lit matches with lies and gossip, imaginary scandals and then waited. and waited. waited to see which ones would take, fanned by her well disguised intentions and which ones would simply die out without any kindling to spark.

and i wonder from time to time how the fires are burning around her right now. i think of her, of her family unknowingly drowning in her toxicity and choking on her smoke and wonder what their future will be. what the future holds for the landscape of ashes she has created. my burns have healed, only on occasion do i even notice their scars, but they remain scars just the same. evidence of her love of fanning the flames. our friendship ended even quicker than it began. it wasnt a choice as much as a necessity to protect myself and my family. its dangerous to keep an arson in your midst when your shortcomings create sparks. those sparks, with the right person, can destroy an entire landscape with catastrophic results.

and im smarter now (though i thought i was smarter then) and i can see the benefits of what ive learned. i can now recognize the smell and sound of a match as it is being struck and am no longer drawn to the warming and disarming small flame. i see the potential wildfire in my own choices as well as the ashes left behind. i can sense the motives of arsonists around me, almost always self seeking and self promoting, leaving charred landscapes in their wake only to come in after the smoke has cleared and pretend to help in the recovery and rebuilding of lives. i have grown fiercely protective of my own trees and do more to care for them than before. and while there are certainly phoenixes that will arise from ashes; i have witnessed them around me and around her, theyre flight is hindered by where they have arisen from. perhaps that is my hope for her own children, for her own husband and undoubtedly the countless others caught in her blaze, that one day they will all arise from charred remains and take flight. that they would reach happiness and health. balance and love. and of course the peace and sanity that cannot thrive in her presence. and for myself, for the multitude of lessons i have learned, i pray for a heart of compassion and forgiveness even while acknowledging the truth that you really cant fix crazy.

the friendly skies

recently we took the kids and flew to texas for Christmas and then onto missouri for new years. due to patricks schedule and his need to be back sooner than we needed to be, i decided to stay an extra week on the farm...still cant seem to ever get enough time with the rents. i vaguely remember the conversation that took place the night we booked our tix for the trip...i was pregnant (which for those of you who know me leaves me incapable of making sound decisions) and realistic husband even questioned (albeit briefly) if i thought traveling by myself with the kids would be too difficult. of course not...georgia did manage to handle a 30 hour itinerary from korea and jack will naturally be sound asleep in the baby bjorn safely secured to me. i never gave it a second thought. mostly because ive been living somewhere between underslept and over caffeinated and partly because my way of handling any and all potentially unpleasant future situations is to spend my present in a state of denial.

needless to say traveling to texas and then onto missouri with better half was uneventful...man to man coverage is always a safe bet. however, the trip home solo had a few moments worth mentioning. and by few, i mean many. too many to actually recount, but ill highlight the faves.

during our brief layover in newark, i had the opportunity to exercise while traveling..running through the airport with jack strapped in somewhat safely with his head bobbling around, pushing georgia in the stroller and lugging 50 lb diaper bag on one shoulder with childs suitcase on the other gave me the chance to burn those mini pretzels from flight one right off. when i began to literally feel the burn in my arms, i expertly transferred both bags to the handles of the stroller. with my load considerably lighter i bravely ventured into the public restroom to let the peach use the potty. this was my lame attempt at avoiding the plane bathrooms that bring out the claustrophobic in me in 2 seconds flat. not to mention the maneuvering that must take place in there with a toddler. ive said it before but i expect applause and a medal every time i step out of one of those germ infested porta potties in the sky having successfully sanitized an area and changed a diaper or assisted a toddler in the one square foot allotted. anyway, i waited patiently for the large stall at the end to open with the peach asking a relentless series of questions ranging from 'are you going to go tinkle, mommy?' to 'i think that lady went poop. do you think she went poop, mommy?'

once inside the stall, georgia promptly hopped out of the stroller. heavy bags on stroller handles promptly caused it to flip over onto the sticky floor. all 736 items in diaper bag are now covering every inch of the stall floor. in my haste to lean over and begin picking up said items, jack about falls out the top of the bjorn. he is completely upside down while i hold him in with one hand and take inventory of all items in need of sanitation with the other. i cant help but try and ignore the floor that georgias fingers are all over and keep reminding myself we will wash extra well after potty time. jack is now awake (as anyone dangling upside down would be) and hungry. fabulous. i get gk on the potty and she reminds me that we are 'not to touch anything'. i find this particularly funny as everything now in the diaper bag and every part of both of her hands have now been all over the floor of a very high traffic public restroom.

i made the decision to not attempt to pee with jack in the baby bjorn...ive never been good at peeing in the woods and with my luck and how the day was unfolding i was fairly confident i would end up either peeing on myself or on jack. i figured it would be nice if just one in our party of three could be spared the joy of public restroom germs and i couldnt bear the thought of hours of questions from my interrogator on what happened to mommy and jack if my attempt failed. we rolled out of the stall looking weathered at best. between my sweat and flustered self and the black cashmere sweater now giving my drooling 4 month old the appearance of a goatee, i just wanted to wash hands and get on the next flight. except that now in front of the sink, i cannot get to georgia fast enough and she hops out AGAIN. stroller flips AGAIN and i am left wondering what patron saint of parenting i have pissed off.

twenty something cutie patootie who has the nerve to wear horizontal stripes, leggings, boots and a handbag trots over to begin helping me pick the items up. gk is a little unnerved, jack is screaming now and i am wondering if i will ever feel cold again. i dont exactly remember what i said at that moment, truth be told it probably rhymed with fit (which i felt like having) or quit (which i felt like doing), but what i apparently failed to say was thank you. i only know this because as stripe girl walked away she said 'your welcome'. ahh yes. jersey. the friendliest place on earth. i wanted to say, 'hey, wait can i get your address? or maybe your autograph? i was hoping to send you a thank you note and flowers to thank you for really going above and beyond here.' the truth is, i was grateful. and appreciative, but seriously, was it not obvious that the balancing act i was trying to pull off while not dumping infant out head first and hanging onto now fit throwing 2 year old with other hand not evidence enough that i was in no position to fall over myself with gratitude? i think i even muttered thank you in the midst of the ordeal but her bangles were probably clicking too loud for her to hear me. anyway, bathroom scene over. onto boarding.

i couldnt help but notice the insanely long line waiting to board my flight and i even felt a moment of relief (the screaming baby with a goatee and whining two year old were just like white noise at this point) realizing i fell into the 'in need of help, please pre board' category. until i heard airline guy make the announcement that it was now open to everyone. clearly, while playing in the restroom, i had missed my chance at the only perk of flying with children. ugh. fortunately, there was a nice guy who let me go ahead of him which was great because i just needed to get to my seat so i could feed jack.

we found our seats, i found my hooter hider and gk found the air controllers above the seat. now i just needed to feed the baby and show all the passengers that their flight really wouldnt be as hellacious as they thought because the baby will stop crying and the peach will sit down and be quiet...while she polishes off a pound of skittles. this detail will mean nothing to any of you men reading, but to you women...i had skipped nursing jack at his last feeding and opted for a bottle which left me...full. so with hooter hider in place and black sweater up i began trying to discreetly feed the boy while a constant stream of passengers filed by and georgia experimented with varying degrees of cold air...which helped me transition nicely from sweaty to clammy. perfect. right as i was about to begin feeding jdub, marcos, the happy flight attendant with a nice manicure shows up next to me. i am caught off guard and jack pays the price with a steady stream of milk shooting into his eye. at the same time gk now has all air pointing at me going full blast and marcos wants to chat about an infant life vest. seriously?? marcos, i know you dont lactate and im fairly confident you dont have small children, but surely it is clear to you from your vantage point above me that i am blinding my infant, exposing myself and in the event of a water landing would just as soon take my chances. he continues on, 'if you cannot find your infant life vest in the event of a water landing (arent those more accurately called crashes anyway) see me and i will get you one.' really, marcos, when this plane goes down and all 150 passengers are panicked, youd like me to bring my two children up and down the aisle until we find you to request an infant life vest? wow.

of course i didnt say anything. i just nodded my head and continued to shower jack. however, i did manage to remember my manners this time and thank him profusely before he walked away. within moments, jack was fed and happy and georgia was happily eating skittles. i even managed to wipe the goatee off of jacks face before landing. clearly a successful day of travel.

the day!

so ill post a few thoughts at length when i dont have jack on my lap drooling and gk setting up a tea party for me in her tent...im running late already, but i wanted to post a quick pic from the big day...the inauguration of president barack obama. it was unbelievable to be there and witness such a great moment in history with some rockstar friends, brooke and paul kind who drove down from princeton to witness the event with us. it was everything id hoped itd be and more....and i didnt freak out with 2 million people around me...so proud.

because im the lamest

im finally posting a pic of jack...hes 4 months old today and this is only his second appearance on the blog. im a terrible mother and proving that whole second baby theory. hes awesome and his sister still rocks. hes huge weighing over 16 lbs at his last appt...i keep telling gk to watch her fingers when he starts rolling over and to start protecting her plate of food...hes putting down rice cereal like a champ and has only requested a side of a-1 steak sauce once.

crowds

there are many things that make me highly uncomfortable...turbulence, 4 inch heels, strapless bras, bleachers, and crowds with lots of children. im fine on a playground, im great in a classroom teaching, but parties with lots of children freak me out. i would rather sit in a car in minot north dakota without heat than be at a party with the little people running wild. so imagine the scenario that played out a couple of weeks ago when one of my bestest friends in the world was hosting her 5th annual thanksmas bash. this event is always a blast, tons of food, drinks and people. and because my dear friend is THE most social person you have ever met, because she LOVES lots of children and because she would never leave ANYONE out, she sent the invites out and the rsvps began pouring in. we decided to drive down for the weekend and get our holiday party on at the hotel friddell aka her house. it was all good and i was feeling ready for the shindig all day long. doors opened at 4pm sharp and the peeps started rolling in one after another. of course all the couples sans kids and singles arrived first...i vaguely remember what it was like to be on time before kids. at around 5:30, the families with kiddos started showing up. i could feel my stress level rising with every gleeful squeal and snotty nose that walked through the door. i began to hold jack and georgia close to me as i scouted out with my eagle eye the sickest kids to avoid...i know, youre realizing how ridiculous this sounds...im telling you, i realize it, too. i even realized it then, i just couldnt control it. at around 6:30 and 40 adults + 20 children later, i retreated up to the guest room we were staying in with both of the kids.


it was impossible to supervise that number of people and rather than continue my death grip on my kids in the corner, i did what any crazy mother having a panic attack would do...i bribed georgia to follow me upstairs. within the calm walls of my room, i began to relax and feel better. it took less than two minutes for the peach to ask 'what are we doing up here?' um...well, sweetie, we are just taking a little break and hanging out just the three of us. isnt this fun? 'no mama, i want to go play chase with the kids downstairs'. okay, honey we could do that or we could put on makeup! perfect. yes, i was clearly desperate, but at least i wasnt trying to catch my breath. so, makeup it was. and lotion. and jewelry. and before i knew it, the families cleared (those pesky bedtimes kept the night short) and i was able to spend the rest of the evening with my friends without white knuckles hanging onto my kiddos.

thank you...

i was talking to your sister the other day about a few things and it occurred to me that there may be something you need to know. something lost in the translation of our days as we swap stories and laughs and struggles. and while it may be hard to believe in light of my uncanny ability to over dramatize as easily as i can over simplify, there is something within me that i feel i may have forgotten to tell you. and i will try and articulate it in a way that adequately carries the weight of my words from my heart to yours. i will try and help you to see it, to feel it and most importantly to know it as well as you know the freckles on my hand or the way i take my coffee.

thank you. thank you for making it possible for me to be the one to care for our little ones. for affording me the luxury of time at home while they are home. it is such a short amount of time, these years before school and friends and activities pull them out the door and we are left wishing for more of them. of their time. of even meeting all of their needs. so in the midst of my days, as monotonous and sometimes challenging as they can be, thank you. they are my days, our days, these little people and i. and i am grateful. thankful from my tired eyes to my tired toes that you, in your wisdom, in your love and in your encouraging way not only make it possible for me to stay home, but support it with your words, with your actions, with your ways. so thank you.

and i understand this may be a newsflash to you, something i have been horribly negligent in conveying. and it may be hard to wrap your brain around, to truly believe (especially on those days when ive perfected the art of unloading the days worries on you) but believe me when i tell you that you have given me more than i could have ever hoped for. this life, this time, these days filled with runny noses and babies that need to be held, lunches that need to be made and naps that need to be taken. the hugs, kisses, snuggles and correction given out countless times everyday would not be traded for anything. nothing. there is nothing i would rather be doing than what you are enabling me to do everyday. so thank you.

when i am exhausted and complain my greatest accomplishment was brushing my teeth and finishing laundry, i am exaggerating. because our daughter has manners. and our baby is happy and i couldnt really ask to accomplish anything more. you dont really understand the sense of being overwhelmed by children, nor do you understand the unspeakable joy of actually completing a total to do list...with two happy children, but you pretend to. you celebrate all of our good days and empathize with the more challenging ones. you encourage me more than you know with your words of affirmation as i try to teach and reach the hearts of our precious children. this job, this gift of full time motherhood, this miracle really of raising children is the one thing i want to do right. the thing i want to excel at most. and you, wonderful you, make me feel like i can and like i am. and regardless of how you really feel, you have me convinced that the calling i feel on my life to stay at home with these children is a call worth answering. you make me feel more than willing. you make me feel capable. regardless of the day, i know i am serving and living with purpose. so thank you.

this life at home full of sticky fingers and wet kisses, messy floors and faces and countless splashes of joy is more than i could have hoped for or dreamt of when we began so many years ago. so thank you. thank you for making my dreams come true. i should have told you sooner.

mama told me...

there would be days like this. days where you rushed into the shower for the first time in 2 days only to realize afterwards that in your haste to finish while baby screamed and toddler stood guard asking a relentless series of questions regarding said shower that you forgot to rinse the conditioner from your locks. now you look like a shaved version of you only with incredibly greasy hair. you hop effortlessly back into the shower with mascara left from the night before streaming down your face to rinse the conditioner out.

after uber relaxing shower, you manage to remove the alice cooper look only to replace it with that liquid liner you just had to buy last week at macys against all reasonable and better judgment...(why is it that when you are feeling the yuckiest, ie, 10 lbs heavy you think its time to experiment with hair/makeup/wardrobe?? as if lining your eyes and cutting your hair will somehow distract you from the discomfort of your jeans...) anyway, liquid liner does look great when that smokin hot professional make up artist applies it. looks a little less great when frazzled under slept and over caffeinated in a rush and completely distracted mama does it...gk even mentioned, mama, what are you doing with your face? thanks, babe.

its onto feeding the baby, packing the back pack and heading to preschool. thank goodness wednesday is a half day so i dont have to pack lunch for the peach. what a relief to have those extra few minutes...except, georgia goes to school on tuesday...which i remembered when i walked in and saw all the responsible parents carrying lunch boxes packed with im sure well balanced super nutritious lunches. its one thing for the people that know me to see my imperfections (which are plenty and hard to miss) its a totally different story when strangers see me fail...and i know its just a lunch and i know others have certainly felt this inadequate, but i have a thing with appearing irresponsible and negligent to people who dont know me. more on that major issue in another post...

so, wonder woman who runs the show at the preschool offers to save the day and grab my kid a happy meal for lunch. perhaps she senses the tone of my day as i bend down to retrieve wallet out of 50 lb diaper bag only to have it slide off my shoulder and slam into sleeping infants face. nice. hungry 2 year old? check. screaming infant? check. sweating, fumbling dotted liquid liner mommy? check.

relieved to have one child in responsible care for a few hours, i head out for a bit of retail therapy...ie rushed errands with just one kid. this turns into me bouncing a crying baby in some aisle where im sure i could find something to buy if i wasnt completely preoccupied with the crying baby. this would be a good time to mention that jack has almost convinced me that any area of our floor and surface of his crib/cradle/swing/bouncy seat/activity mat potentially has an electrical current flowing through it. it seems the only safe place current free is in my arms. which is good, because ive found its hard to open up the tub of ice cream and eat it with one hand...however, super easy to dip chips and salsa..so i digress.

with errands complete and one child nursed (in a display chair at target...i NEVER thought i would be THAT woman) i call it a day. the rest of the afternoon unfolds as seamlessly as the morning and in the craziness of the day i manage to finally put jack down for a nap in his crib. what a success...he sleeps out of my arms for 7 whole minutes!! woo hoo.

so, im spent. worn out after doing virtually nothing..didnt even pack the lunch. but, in the midst of it all, georgia starts naming off all of her friends from school. when i ask her who her bestest friend is, without hesitation she answers, 'you, mommy, you are'. please give me more days like this where i can rush and fail and endure the frenzy and at the end of it all have it all.

excuses and exhaustion

we have been lucky. unbelievably lucky according to some. gk has been in a toddler bed, free of the baby jail known as a crib for nearly 4 months. without even the threat of invisible crocodiles on her floor or an electric wire, she has NEVER gotten out of her bed. until this week. now we have a 2 month old sleeping beautifully through the night and a 2 year old wearing us down like tire treads at indy. last night, her reasons (LAME excuses) for getting out of her bed were as follows::

1. i was just coming in to check on mommy...how thoughtful, if you really cared about your mommy your arse would be in your bed allowing her to get some much needed rest...the kind of rest that gives her the patience you have come to expect over the last couple of years.

2. i really dont like the scary shadows in my room, can you turn off my night light so they go away?...shadows are not scary, they are evidence that all the stuff you love to play with remains in your room even while youre sleeping, ready and waiting for you to wake up...

3. i really dont like the scary dark, can you turn on my night light so i can see?...this is the same light that creates those shadows...how about you just close your eyes when you see something you dont like?

4. i just wanted to come and snugoool....and on saturday morning after 8, you are more than welcome to climb into bed and snugool...however, at 5:20 am, snuggling is not an option for ANYONE in this bed.

5. um, i dont like my rocking horse looking at me...first of all, i dont think hes really looking at you, his head is facing down. second of all hes been in your room since december 26th 2006...its a little late to start faking fear of this one.

6. could you move my dresser into the hallway please? its just too big and scary...okay, remember the big guys who dripped sweat all over it carrying it up the stairs into your room? its not moving until they come back.

7. i have snots and need a tissue...this is legit. take the tissue to bed and use it until it can be squeezed like a towel. do not call for us until snot drips from it.

so, today, again im still caffeinating at 2:42 in the afternoon after a long night of sheer craziness. any and all suggestions are appreciated...there is nothing we wont consider at this point.

giving thanks

i love this time of year and all that it entails...i could do without the excessive commercialism that kicks off the day after halloween, but ive become an expert at ignoring that. i love the effort we make to spend these holidays with family and friends regardless of the distance and the questions it has sparked within our little peach as we talk about all that we have and are thankful for. ive been challenged by my friend to fast for a period of time this season to remind myself what real hunger and want feels like at a time when everything to include great meals seem to flow in excess. to briefly experience a fraction of the suffering that millions live and die with everyday. and to reflect on the multitude of blessings that define my existence.

i heard a great message this sunday at church, one that is worth sharing and meditating on. real gratitude is not dictated by our circumstances, but rather Gods presence in them. living that out would mean our gratefulness wouldnt shift or change. ever. not during the moments when we are healthy and loved nor when we are grieving and alone. imagine if we all lived that out. imagine how different our days would look. how different our hearts would look. imagine if we really just lived a life of gratitude to God simply because we believed Him when He promised to never leave us. to trust and accept that in spite of where we are, we are always close to Him. what if we chose to obey Him when He commanded us to give thanks in everything. not everything joyful. not everything pleasant. simply everything. how amazing would it be to experience that kind of gratitude. it would be impossible to overlook that kind of life. it would be impossible to ignore. it would be so counter to what the norm is, it couldnt help but be significant and even life changing for those around you. it is what i long for. a life lived with significance, with grace and humility, courage and hope and above all, gratitude.

victory

you know youre life has taken a turn when your new moment of victory is not dropping an expletive when your two year old pulls back her toe nail and says, 'look, mommy, i have an owie...see it goes all the way back like this'. aaaaahhhhhh.

and this would not be the only noteworthy victory from the week...patrick and i pulled off a heist worthy of a james bond flick by extracting two pacis guarded as well as fort knox with just a little help from the paci fairy. oh yes. the withdrawal has been slightly better than a heroin addict in detox. no shakes or sweats, but a plethora of well thought out questions by our interrogator. the best was the first night of 'operation paci-free' when said interrogator summoned us to her room moments after bedtime to inform us that she was in fact in fear of the legendary paci fairy...that she 'wears a big hat and opens her mouth wide like a cow but doesnt say moo and thats scary'. i promise i did no drugs during my pregnancy. patrick assured her the paci fairy was rather small, had hands to drop gifts with and wings to fly away with. no big hats, big open mouths and nothing to be scared of. we are now 5 days paci free and while i dont need to stand on a ship with a crowd, i will happily hang a 'mission accomplished' sign and toast yet another significant victory.