hookers

let me assure you my next post will have nothing to do with the little people...it will most certainly be about my recent decision to pay to have my arse kicked on a regular basis....yes, i have in fact hired a personal trainer and have been unable to brush my teeth since our first workout. the perk is that it is also difficult to get the spoon full of dublin mudslide ice cream to my mouth as well.

however, as anxious as i am to share my riveting and painful gym experience with you, today i have to tell you the position i found myself in just a few short hours ago. three days ago, while playing with jack, georgia informed me that the plastic clips that hook toys on strollers, carseats and trays are in fact called, hookers. i found this pretty funny as any mother easily entertained by her 3 year old would but didnt think much more about it.

but, today, at the eye doctors (gold star for anyone who knows what theyre called AND can accurately spell it) georgia mentioned to the kind doc that her brother likes hookers. yep. AND that he shares them with her because (of course) hes a good sharer. sure, this is amusing. this is entertaining off the cuff at its finest, but she saved the best for last when she blurted out, 'yep, when i lay all the hookers out on the blanket, my brother loves playing with them.'

the doctor mentioned he thought he could finally retire as he had in fact finally heard everything. nice. thanks gk....the smiles never end and we are eternally grateful for every last one of them.

true

real faith in action is helping

those who cannot help you back.

something shiny

i knew this day was coming. it had to with my overly inquisitive wicked smart 3 year old who spends her sleepless nights dreaming up questions that i dont have answers to only to watch me grasp at words that arent there as i try and satisfy her curiosity. she has started noticing pictures around the house that she isnt in...baffling im sure for her as she comes to terms with the reality that as hard as it may be to imagine, there was life before gk. the other evening she noticed a picture of patrick and i in italy. she immediately came to discuss it with me...it went like this...

gk: did you take me to italy with you?

me: no, sweetie, you weren't born yet.

gk: where was i?

me: remember how before jack was here it was just the 3 of us? well, its because God was making him in heaven. thats where you were when we were in italy. God was busy making you in heaven, knowing one day He would give you to us.

gk: oh. and then He gave me to you.

me: yes.

gk: how?

me: He put you in my tummy to grow just like jack.

gk: silence.

me: feeling pretty awesome at the ease of this conversation and a bit overly confident that her question had in fact been answered to her level of satisfaction.

gk: mommy, if God is all the way in heaven, how did He actually put me in your tummy?

me: hmmm. thats a great question. do you want some ice cream?

gk: sure!

and that concluded our talk. i never thought id be that person that avoided the tough questions, but here i am offering anything to buy me more time and better answers.

memday

this weekend has been a complete and total blur. we have been swept up in a frenzy of activity that has given us time with friends for dinner, weddings with a reception floating down the potomac at sunset (yes, it did not suck), a korea reunion bbq (really just a time for a bunch of us living in the area to come together and recap our time in korea...unanimously agreeing on 2 things...smelled like sewage and had great opportunities for retail therapy) and of course some family time. i havent until this moment had the time to even think about this day. this one small day that gives us a 3 day weekend and 4 day work week. a day that inevitably gives millions of people a reason to come together and grill out. grab a boat and head to the lake. sip margaritas and sleep in one extra day or catch up on yard work and chillax with the family. im a fan of 3 day weekends and of holidays in general. i love the extra time allowed for relaxing (or not) with family and friends. but, theres a part of me that longs to just sit and reflect on this day. this day that means so much to so many. it is a day of great significance. a day to remember and memorialize the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice in serving our country and helping so many others along the way.

today, while we were surrounded with great friends and fabulous food, where the laughter of kids on a slip and slide permeated the air around us, there was a family laying their 26 year old daughter to rest in st. louis. she was tragically killed in afghanistan this past week, a young woman courageously leading her troops in the midst of loneliness and danger. we only know of her story because she was stationed with patricks brother in hawaii and he had the privilege of working with her. her sacrifice (like the sacrifice of most) went largely unnoticed by the vast majority of the country. im not implying that we as a nation should know the names and stories of all of these heroes, i just wish we would thank them appropriately for their sacrifice. a parade will not soothe the pain of the loved ones left behind, a folded flag will not comfort the half of the heart now alone, kind words from a grateful nation will not heal the wounds of a child longing for one more moment with their dad. but, we can simply remember. we can choose to not forget that while we exist minute to minute consumed by nothing more than our own existence, there are people bravely giving their lives for strangers just as thousands of men and women have done before them. it is awe inspiring. i am completely captivated by their stories and cant help but feel honored to even live in a country that produces these kinds of men and women.

when my dad was here visiting last month we made our way to the vietnam wall and then to the korean war memorial. we spent some time in a light rain on a gray day waiting for my dad to find the names of friends he had lost during his tour in vietnam. we listened closely as he retold a story i had never heard about men ive never known with families ive never met. i could barely breathe as i imagined my hero as a young man leaving my mom behind to face the most difficult of circumstances a world away. i know of no greater man than my dad. he possesses a bold courage, an unwavering integrity, an unabashed love for my mom, his family, his God and his country. he is everything i think of when i think of the word hero. he is the kind of man who is such a natural leader that he instinctively makes others better when they are around him. we took pictures of the korean war memorial to send to my grandfather who left my grandma for years to serve his country. i realized as i was snapping pics and preparing a note to send with them that i had never thanked him. i thank the lady who bags my groceries, the guy holding the door at the bank, the pharmacist filling my script, but id never thanked this man who gave so much. so, we did. gk drew a picture and i finally after all these years thanked him for serving his country with honor and for leaving a legacy of service for my dad to follow. i realized that for all the years id spent focusing on his shortcomings, id completely overlooked the fact that he had a huge hand in raising the greatest man ive ever known and id never thanked him for any of it. ive been so horribly short sighted and overly critical that i failed to ever recognize that my dad is my hero not in spite of my grandfather, but because of him. i am so thankful that God, in His mercy and goodness let me thank him now in the living years for his service and sacrifice.

so i dont know what to do with this 3 day weekend, this bonus day after sunday to fill up with additional social commitments, but i do know that at the end of this day i am simply left remembering and reflecting and realizing how unbelievably thankful i am for the thousands who have given so much. and to my dad...you cannot possibly know the depth of my gratitude, love and respect. thank you for your service and your friendship.

SHIaTsu

i know ive been lazy and neglecting the blog...its not for lack of want or material, its merely a lack of time issue. the precious minutes that i usually carve out for my therapy on this site have been spent reading (how ive missed it!!) and napping (which btw has become so rare, im not even that good at it anymore). however, this week we were able to sneak down for a quick visit with good friends who happen to live in a colonial paradise just outside of williamsburg. we thought we would cram in one final trip before they move south to alabama in a few short weeks. how quickly and easily i forget the fun and convenience of guests who choose to visit right at the peak of a stressful move...yes, i have become that friend.

within the hour we arrived, gk managed to lose the battle with her top button and pee right next to the toilet while jack peed through his diaper for the first time in months. finally after getting the little people bathed and quietly in bed (no small feat when they are sharing a room and the oldest is convinced that no bedtime routine is complete without a minimum of 10 questions and the little one is desperately trying to cut his first teeth) i came downstairs to see patrick enjoying a relaxing conversation, glass of wine and none other than a brookstone shiatsu massager on his back. (this is not to imply he wasnt helpful...he had just beat me back downstairs by a mere 5 minutes and while i was amazed at how quickly he managed to assume the 'happy and relaxed' position, i knew that with the same determination i, too, could achieve the same euphoria within moments).

once the shiatsu massager was available (guilted from his hands no less) i positioned it right between my shoulder blades and located the on switch. let the stress melt away and the relaxation begin. listen, this thing is no substitute for a great massage, but the two round balls applying strong pressure in a circular motion on my shoulders was pretty darn nice. for almost 2 whole minutes. this would be a good time to mention that im growing my hair out for locks of love...it is annoyingly long...even longer than usual and while im tempted on a daily basis to cut it myself, i am committed to doing this locks thing with a close friend whose mama is battling breast cancer these days.

so just as i was beginning to enjoy this shoulder massage i felt a slight tug on my hair. the slight tug grew into a strong pull and within seconds my hair was being wrapped around the balls of the massager. i yelled S***...how do you turn this thing off?? patrick, all relaxed and what not, jumped over to where i was and attempted to locate the off switch. thankfully, he momentarily did before accidentally pushing it too far which merely changed the direction of the rotation. at this point my hair was wrapped so tightly around the balls that they were at my scalp and i was straight up panicked. jason (co owner of the torture device) ran over and turned it off. i had not been this relaxed since the moment before my epidural took effect and i began to wonder if i was going to be cutting my hair off at the scalp. this would be another good time to mention that rayna, (primary owner of torture device) is an incredible photographer who so kindly was planning on shooting some family pics the following day. perfect. newly shaven head just 15 hours before professional pics. jason began to try and extract mangled mane while i lay still with shiatsu massage securely attached to my head. are you kidding me?? who does this kind of crap really happen to? pat assisted with 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and 'oh crap, katie, that looks really bad' while jason continued to try and extract all 16 inches of hair from this thing that i now felt had actually attempted to take my life and could only get to my hair.

jason suggested we try and disassemble the killer balls and set my thoroughly relaxed self free. with a little gentle pulling (similar to some beach tug of war) the balls were removed and i was FREE. i was a tangled and tense mess, but i was at least finally separate from the device that moments earlier had made a noteworthy attempt on my life. within a couple of minutes i, too, was in possession of a glass of wine enjoying a fabulous conversation that consisted of no less than five references to how thankful i was to be free of the shiatsu massager. jason, thank you again for saving my life.

q & a

so about 10 years ago while happily and blissfully (and completely naively) engaged, i asked my beloved fiance if he believed in the concept of having a soul mate...one true love in the world...blah blah blah. pat looked at me and said definitively without even a moments hesitation, 'no'. NO?? what?? you cant think that way, can you?? he followed up my immature outrage with, 'i think its a ridiculous idea and pretty stupid. how do you account for people being married more than once or a widow who finds love again?' he then continued on, 'katie, please dont ask me honest questions that you dont want honest answers to'. (insert awkward silence while i pouted and processed the truth in love that had just been thrown at me). however, in the past decade, not only have i come to completely agree with him (its amazing the clarity a little life experience and age can give you and seriously...of course there is more than one person out there to love), but from that day on i have never asked questions i wasnt prepared to have honest answers to. and let me just tell you there have been some shockers. some answers i wasnt prepared for because they werent the answers i was expecting, but nonetheless, i have tried not to criticize someone for simply answering something i have thrown out there. fast forward to the miss usa pageant that i proudly didnt even know was happening (its hard to keep up with the beauty queen thing when i myself am knee deep in pageant drama of my own kind with miss georgia) but keeping up with the headlines, i became familiar with at least the most interesting portion of the night when miss california answered a gay marriage question thrown out there by none other than perez hilton. i was outraged by the back lash she received for simply giving her honest answer to an honest question. when i came across the following commentary on cnn (by someone i dont necessarily love, but enjoy reading from time to time) i felt like he was spot on in his assessment and that it was worth sharing...a first for me on the blog.


By Roland S. MartinCNN Contributor


(CNN) -- A lot of folks are always saying they like to keep it real, that they want authenticity and straight talk. Yet when someone actually does it, there is hell to pay.
Welcome to the world of Miss California, Carrie Prejean, who, since she answered a question regarding same-sex marriage in Sunday's Miss USA pageant, has been savagely attacked by those who oppose what she had to say.
Leading the burn-her-at-the-stake parade is media opportunist Perez Hilton, the self-described gossip queen, and the individual who kick-started this controversy by asking the initial question as to whether the issue of same-sex marriage should be left up to the states.
It seems that Hilton, who is gay, was none too pleased that Prejean chose to actually give her personal opinion on the issue, and ripped her on his blog after the show, using crude obscenities as he continued to attack her at every turn on his media blitz.
Hey, Hilton, from a real journalist to a wanna-be who traffics in gossip: Never ask a question if you're unprepared for the answer!
Frankly, this whole story is pretty stupid. Isn't the whole point of asking a question to get someone's true feelings, rather than the plastic and superficial answers we are all used to receiving?
Sure, Prejean could have gone the safe route and given one of those answers that reveal nothing and is hard to decipher -- you know, the ones politicians give all the time -- but no! She actually gave her real opinion, and is now being torn to shreds for it.
She opposes same-sex marriage. OK, fine. So what if she had said, "Hey, I'm in full support of same-sex marriage." Would she now be celebrated on gay-focused blogs, magazines and Web sites? Would her detractors actually be saying how open she is and that she's a great person?
Same-sex marriage is undoubtedly a hot button issue. And being from California, the site of Proposition 8, the ballot initiative that voters approved outlawing same-sex marriage, Prejean has surely had to hear the debate go back and forth. But her remark isn't outside the mainstream. A CNN/Opinion Research Corp. poll shows that 55 percent of Americans are against same-sex marriage, and Proposition 8 did pass in her state 52-48 percent. iReport.com: Prejean 'should step down'
What's interesting about this is that many of the same folks who are slamming her for her remark voted for President Obama and Vice President Joe Biden, who both have the same belief: that marriage should be between a man and a woman.
Even Secretary of State Hillary Clinton made it clear that she has the same view, and it was her husband, President Bill Clinton, who signed the In Defense of Marriage Act, the federal law that forbids states from having to recognize gay marriage in other states.
In other words, four of the biggest liberals in the country have the same belief as Prejean, but a beauty pageant winner is being torn to shreds. Hello, hypocrisy!
Those who criticize Prejean have the same right as she does to express their viewpoints. But enough with all the political correctness, where someone says she should have danced around the issue, smiled and move on. iReport.com: 'Thank you, California!'
At the end of the day, we all have to be true to ourselves. Whether it's a gay gossip writer who favors same-sex marriage or a heterosexual woman who is against same-sex marriage. The day we condemn folks for speaking honestly is the day we become a bland society.
Maybe we're already there.

choose them

i am saying this in love. in truth. in a moment where i have more compassion than i think i should and more concern than i thought i could. you are simply put and without hesitation, wrong. you are missing the boat and not just some small, flimsy, worthless dingy, but the aircraft carrier type. the type that moves so slowly and so steadily, so massively carrying the most precious of cargo, that for you to be missing it, your vision has to be so thoroughly clouded that you are completely blinded to what lies on your horizon. how can you miss this? how can you not see what is off in the distance and right in front of you? are you this consumed with you??

being a mother is so much more than mothering your children. i only know this because i have failed miserably on multiple occasions. patrick and i have journeyed down streets of indifference, drowned in seas of hurt and forgiveness and all the while believing the lies we told ourselves. the lies that convince you of the paramount importance of work, the inability to achieve success without sacrificing your family. the lies that tell you mothering is only about your children, meeting their needs for love and affection. for meals and fun. and while providing for your family is critical and caring for your little ones imperative, meeting their basic needs includes meeting their fundamental need for a family of stability. a home with love and support for the day, the week, the month and the next 50 years. to believe that you are taking care of your children while neglecting the vital relationship you have with their father is understandable. and forgivable...thank God. but its wrong. they deserve more. they deserve honesty and forgiveness and work. the kind of work that is exhausting, overwhelming and discouraging. it may seem impossible to repair and reconnect, but thats what you owe, yes i said owe, your children. you are running up a bill so alarmingly high that they will be left to pay. the ones who have nothing to do with you or the marriage they were brought into. born, without their consent out of a deep, real beautiful love i might add.

it does not matter how deep the wounds or how wide the chasm between how you feel today and how you used to feel is. it does not matter the weight of the hurts buried deep and the ones lying fresh on the surface, reminding you how angry and sad you are. there is plenty of disillusionment to go around, you dont own the rights to all of it. but to fail at this, this God given union, with God given children, to simply crawl away into a new life, an easier one (so you think) is failing them. you know, the ones that have done nothing wrong. and you may have convinced yourself of your justification for this and you may have lobbied really strong arguments to all that youve shared them with, but time has a way of bringing truth into the brightest of lights and while a jury of your peers may loudly side with you, there are little people who will one day be big people who will ask you why. why you gave up. gave in and let their dreams of happily flawed, but steadfastly committed ever after go.

what will you say to them? what will you try to tell them? and more importantly, when they have asked others the same question, what do you think the answers will be? what will they believe? your marriage is worth more than you realize and your children are worth whatever it takes. and it will take more than you have. it will cost you more than you realize but it will be the greatest gift you will ever give them. they havent asked for it, because they dont know its in jeopardy. but if they could, they would. they would beg and plead and pray that the choice between the life you have and the life that beckons would be an easy one to make. choose them. choose them. choose them.

hmmm

believe people when they show you who they are
the first time.
~maya angelou

road trip

i have about a gazillion posts in my head right now which is a pleasant switch from the usual ideas that center solely around thoughts of 'did you remember to wash your hands?', 'remember not too many wet kisses for your brother', 'please stop calling for me. i cant hear you because i am in the shower and the door is locked. please stop trying to break in. mommy only needs 4 minutes and i will buy you a pony if you step away from the door NOW', and so on. but, at this moment in time there are a gazillion. yep. that many. i have thoughts from good friday (which i again refused patricks suggestion to watch the passion every year as a tradition), thoughts (and pics!) from easter (still my fave holiday just ahead of fireworks on the 4th) and of course a few highlights from our 17 hour road trip cross country. if my family has EVER doubted my love for them across the miles, they neednt look any further than me hopping (oh so effortlessly) back and forth from front seat to back 432 times to pump and feed (no time to stop and nurse...nope, we have best times to create and then try and beat on the return trip), snacks to open, dvds to switch, toys to retrieve, water to refill, pacis to locate, babies to change (on the console no less...we are hard core), and of course the repeated explanations of why it takes soooo long to drive to missouri.

the best part of the early hours had to be the conversation that took place less than a mile from our house as we exited our development.

me: pat, so, how are we going to get there?
pat: i have 3 different options based on mapquest, trip planner and garmin.
me: great. so we have 3 different choices? which one are we using?

gk: dont forget we could also go on a plane. thats a choice too.

me: thats right, peach. and i can tell you already, that is how we will go next time. promise.

a few memorable moments::

everything you hear about west virginia is true. we stopped for 7 minutes to refill on gas and let the peach pee and im telling you, its just as you would imagine. the bathroom was a one stall type of thing with a sink right outside. it was a pretty small space, so imagine my surprise when we exit to find 4 very interesting grown women waiting in the 2 square feet of space outside the stall. it was so bizarre how they were all crowded on top of each other just waiting and watching us as we left, not even pretending to not be staring. i cant do the whole experience justice except to say it reminded me of twin peaks. enough said. what people somehow always fail to mention among the no teeth, weird mountain families comments, is that it happens to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. okay, country. fine, eastern part of the country (since colorado and montana are in the u.s.). still, a gorgeous place to drive through if youre not required to spend the night there.

kentucky is where i belong. i think. or colorado. but if i cant have colorado, ill take kentucky. the most spectacular green hills dotted with beautiful farms and pastures with more horses than i could count. it made 64 not seem as long as we drove past mile after mile of katie heaven.

fill up before you get to east st. louis so you dont have to fill up there. or make sure youre participating in the 'conceal and carry' law.

jack in the box is just as disgusting as it was when i had it in the middle of the night in hawaii 6 years ago. only worse because it was daylight and i was really really hungry and hadnt been drinking or dieting.

georgia and i could both happily substitute animal crackers (whatever, theyre still cookies), cheeze its, and fruit snacks for all three meals. everyday. i think.

jack is a rock star. he only left his car seat once in 8 hours at which time he grabbed and dumped the tray of food at jack in the box. its almost as if i could hear him saying 'you leave me buckled in a straight jacket for 5 hours...youre lucky this is all i can do'.

there is a reason our kids arent allowed to watch television. okay, theres a million reasons, but i swear, after watching dvd after dvd for hours on end, our typically well mannered peach was the most distracted, bossy and easily the rudest shes ever been. and we will happily make that trade for the trip home as well.

between the garmin, cell phone, dvd player, pump, ipod, and headphones, i was ready to throw EVERY cord and charger out the window. i was on the verge of a major meltdown every time i had to try and find anything near the console. it looked like our car was hooked up on life support and at any moment i was going to carelessly rip one of the seemingly 30 different cords out. highly frustrating for a person who likes things orderly and hates clutter and who is so challenged when it comes to anything electronic. not fun.

lesson learned...do not tell your child when you have finally entered the state of said destination if your city of destination is still over 3 hours past the state line. and you have forbidden anymore movies for the remainder of the trip for your highly inquisitive child.

other lesson learned...always check the hotel room extra super good for anything of value you may be overlooking. particularly if the things of value are white, personalized, treasured baby blankets that blend in perfectly with the white bed linens. ah yes. just a few moments of trauma while we dialed up vincent at the front desk who assured me they are in fact on their way here. we hope.

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.