I Am Woman...Oh Gosh.

I thought this was supposed to get easier.  Truth be told, I never had it that rough to begin with.  Even when my kids were young, I made a conscious effort to be not busy.  The most chaotic time that I can remember was when I was juggling 3 kids under the age of 10 while studying my way through Massage School 9 years ago.  When I graduated, I vowed never to be that busy again.

I've spent the past few years making sure to schedule my days with plenty of stress-free time.  Happy Mommy; Happy Home, right?  Maybe I was doing something right, or maybe I was doing something very wrong.  Whichever the case may be, I find myself completely frustrated by my ever shortening days when my oldest is graduated and my youngest is in all-day-every-day Kindergarten, which should mean that I can go back to bed until Noon and still have plenty of time before they get home.

What I didn't bank on was having a sudden change in standard on some things that didn't used to take priority.  Take house cleaning, for instance.  When the kids were little, I didn't even bother.  Suddenly, with the help of a dear Sis, I've broken my home down into sections and days and I'm on a strict cleaning schedule.  When in the heck did a clean house become a priority for me?

Next up; workouts.  Although my involvement in events requiring extreme physical training seem to have stayed in 2012, I've grown accustomed to these size jeans and I'm not yet willing to let myself go.  (Yet.)  Therefore, daily workouts are non-negotiable.  Then factor in my regular home-clients, recently accepting the Massage Therapist position at the local Salon and my occasional writing projects and suddenly I have a scheduling situation on my hands.  And that's not even counting doing the Wife/Mom thing.

The icing on the cake was beginning a Beth Moore Bible Study with my closest girlfriends.  Gone are the days of casually sitting down with my bible and latest workbook at my leisure.  No, suddenly, I'm being held accountable and although it's exactly what I need, I'm not used to it.  This past Sunday night was our first meeting with the assignment to have the first 2 Chapters done.  Guess who skipped the 2nd half of the first Chapter and was still unable to complete the entire 2nd Chapter on time?  Yours truly.  By Tuesday I realized I was already behind schedule on chapters 3 & 4 and became increasingly angry every time C would interrupt me during the lesson on the importance of being slow to anger.
Yes, God has a twisted sense of humor.

I'm starting to relate to the chaotic schedules I hear so many other moms talking about except I don't know how to handle it yet.  What I do know is that a change is in order and today was Day 1 of being on a very strict schedule starting when the girls walked out the door for school at 7:30 and it's been non-stop all day.  Part of me is feeling completely exhausted and ready for a nap, but the other part of me is feeling a little Proverbs 31'ish...minus a few things like 'buying fields, planting vineyards and bringing food from a-far'...I bring food from a-Walmart, but considering where we live, it's kinda the same thing.

Unfortunately, the thought of doing it all over again tomorrow has me completely depressed.  But if the Proverbs chic could do it, the least I can do is follow through with this experiment till the end of the week.

That means I have one more day to teach my children to arise and call me blessed.
Oh, it's gonna happen...

Peek At A Week

It's been another one of those weeks that makes me look back and shake my head.

Last Thursday I got the flu.  The kind where you have a moments notice to decide which end to put against the bucket and which end against the toilet.  The last time I got that violently ill was the day after Thanksgiving of 2008.  I remember exactly because it was Thanksgiving morning of 2008 when I made the fateful decision to abuse an over-the-counter Fat Blocking pill and took one right before dinner.  Oh, it blocked the fat alright, and I spent 48 hours ejecting the fatty meal out of every available opening of my body.  Those pills have since been taken off the market.
I can't imagine why.

Fast forward to last Saturday when I was waiting in line at the DMV to renew my expired driver's license. I was number 17 and they'd just called number 8.  Get comfortable.  I settled myself with my cup of coffee against the wall because all the chairs were taken by able-bodied men.  Don't get me started.  I was religiously following the "NO CELL PHONE" rule, because the last time I was in that particular DMV was when Z got his driver's license and in a moment of excitement I took out my cell phone to take his picture and you would have thought I'd just pulled out a gun because all hell broke loose as the man repeatedly demanded that I "DELETE THAT PICTURE!!"  I obeyed because I got the feeling that if I didn't, the next step would be the swat team crashing through the windows on ropes and taking me into custody.  So now I treat the DMV like the 'Soup Nazi' episode of Seinfeld.  I quietly step up to the counter while avoiding all eye contact and state what I need. I was already screwed because my license was expired and expected nothing less than a formal reprimand, if not slammed against the wall and thoroughly frisked.  When they finally called my number, I walked toward the counter and was met with the "Stop" hand and the employee dramatically said, "Do not approach this counter with a drink."  Oh that's right...I forgot about that new strand of terrorist who's main goal is to throw luke-warm coffee on the DMV employee and then run away.  I can see where I totally fit the profile.

That brings us to Show and Tell.  C was 'Student-of-the-Week' in her Kindergarten class.  Thursday was her Show and Tell day and she wanted to take one of our dogs.  Certain the answer would be a solid NO, I text her teacher and was shocked when she told me the school approved it as long as it was a dog "the size you can carry."  Well technically, I can carry our German Shepherd so the school might consider being a little more specific, but I digress.  C wanted to take Quincy, our 15 lb LlassaPoo.  A perfect choice except for one thing.  The night before Show and Tell, she broke out in an ear infection so bad that her ear was actually raw and dripping blood.  Crap.  I looked at our other 2 options:  Summer, the high strung Dalmation-Beagle who hacks up white froth when she gets excited or the German Shepherd who  hates strangers and is named Axel, pronounced "A**hole" by Caymen.  Bloody ear won.

Needless to say, I was ready to see Friday roll around this week.  The main project for the weekend was to paint our kitchen so we planned a date night / Lowes trip last night, but landed in Urgent Care when C announced her ears hurt.  One positive Strep Test later, we were home scraping our walls preparing to paint when my husband made a discovery and angrily said, "Who painted these walls?!?  It looks like somebody started peeling wallpaper off, but got mad and just painted over top of it!!"

Then he stood there glaring at me.  First of all, I technically don't remember doing that, so let's take the accusations down a notch.  Second of all, getting mad and impatiently painting over wallpaper?  Nope.  Doesn't sound like me...

Remembrance and Resolution, 2013

Just like you, today I'm preparing to enter the new year and reflecting on the year we're leaving behind.

Mark this one on the books, people.  I have no regrets.

Apparently, it took me a whopping 40 years to submit to God's plan for my life.  Looking back on this year of peace, I ask myself, why in the crap did I endure years of turmoil by fighting to control my own choices?  Did I really believe I knew what was best for me?

The bad news is, I'm still a hot mess of clay with a mountain of areas He's still molding in me and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes I crave to be let off the potter's wheel so I can catch my breath, but I'm still spinning.

The good news is, that means He hasn't given up on me and 'He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus' (Phil 1:6), is true.

So I submit.  Daily.  Because submission does not come naturally to me.  But my plan in years past wreaked nothing but havoc.

Here's more good news.  Isaiah 61:7 is also true.  'Instead of their shame my people will receive a double portion, and instead of their disgrace they will rejoice in their inheritance; and so they will inherit a double portion in their land, and everlasting joy will be theirs.'  Joyce Meyer calls that, "Getting double for your trouble."  

I can name several areas of my life where I had to accept the loss of something that in hindsight was unhealthy, but now see where God replaced it at least double with something healthy.  Unfortunately, my tendency is to cling to situations that are actually choking me and for my own good, God occasionally weeds my garden.  Painful but necessary.

Here's the bottom line.  I trust Him in all areas, therefore I submit to Him with a mutual understanding:  I understand that He's in control and when He answers "No" to something, it's ultimately for my own good.  He understands that I'm still going to insert my own free will and screw things up occasionally but that I'll try super hard to keep those to a minimum.  That's called teamwork.  

As a result, I'm able to look back at a year without regret and excitedly anticipate the year that lies ahead.

My remembrance of 2012 is a year of emotional freedom, physical health, training and adventure as well as spiritual landmarks and milestones.  I committed to walking through any door that God opened for me, was subsequently violently shoved out of my comfort zone on all counts, and survived the frightening spin of the wheel simply by focusing my eyes on the potter.  It felt like...joy!

Hopefully, this misshapen lump of clay called Me looks a little different on this last day of the year than it did on the first.

My resolution for 2013 is this:  Do it all over again even better.  Except maybe this year I'll willingly step out of my comfort zone and instead of waiting for God to swing the doors of opportunity completely open, I'll boldly kick a few down.

Okay, Lord.  Let's do this.

Really Close Courters.

Day 13.

Our family has been together for 13 days in a row.  When I say 'together' I mean really really together.  It started with a van ride to Baltimore, followed by 8 days on a cruise ship, back in the van for the drive home, topped off with Christmas and now we're being hit with a blizzard...8 inches of snow and counting.

Now factor in our Christmas gifts that include a remote control helicopter that doubles as a video camera, a pogo stick, nail gun, juggling torches, unicycle, and a mini Dune Buggy that tops off at 5 mph, which doesn't sound fast until you're being chased through the kitchen and down the hallway.

In the hands of a family who studies Duck Dynasty, that is a recipe for disaster.

If we were to visit 'Christmas Past' I'd be reminded of the year my husband received an air soft pellet gun and accidentally shot my cousin's wife in the leg as they were leaving our home which escalated to him running around the driveway wearing pool goggles, Z's athletic cup, and covering his nipples with his hands while our son shot at him.  I put my foot down when I heard him say, "Ok, your turn." 

So far, so good.  The ping pong table is being assembled, the level of inappropriate humor is on the rise and the house has taken on a frat house vibe, but the 6 of us are miraculously unscathed.  So far, there have been no major fights, serious injuries or permanent damage to property.  I credit this to God's grace in spite of the complete lack of adult supervision.   

As for the side effects we've had on others over the course of the past 2 weeks, I can't say for sure.  We can't control everything. 

From the looks of it, we're not even close to this being over.  So we'll leave this post 'To Be Continued...'  Because let's be honest.  Things can only go downhill from here.

And I Quote...Again...

For those not familiar with this blog segment, below is a list of actual quotes that were said by one of our family members during the course of a real conversation. The idea was inspired by our son who thought it would be funny if our family conversations were sent out to the public via live feed.  Obviously, that would be a really bad idea.  But there are some odd and entertaining things said around here, so I started documenting to enable us to share in a controlled format.  I don't explain who said it or the context in which it was said.  That's all part of the fun.  I hope you enjoy our version of Live Feed Part II: 


"I'm 3 turds on the deck away from going postal."

"If anybody needs butt powder, I've got connections."

"We are really stupid, but we're really funny so that totally cancels out the stupid."

"You can't let your whiteness work against you."

"Let's blame the thong."

"Tapeworm isn't as funny as you might think."

"If we can master the Gagnam Style, we'll be unstoppable."

"It's natural brilliance, so there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"I can't open my eyes wide enough to see my hole."

"I'll dig it out and shove it into a souvenir bag, if you'd prefer."

"That was back in my wild days when bare backing was cool."

"We got nervous and started googling the timing of Rigamortis."

"You fart into one fog machine and all heck breaks loose."

"I don't want to push you out of the moving van, but today it's gonna happen."

"It's not like we found a random deer and threw poop on our car."

"You start the morning off with a suicide story and then wonder why everyone's against you."

We'll leave it with those for now.  Stay tuned next time when someone threatens to "take a wet sock and mess you up" because it wouldn't be the Christmas season without the threat of physical violence.

And Then (Almost) Everything Changed.

Wednesday evening before we left the house with our 2 youngest daughters to drop K off at her tumbling class, our biggest concern was that my husband and I had inadvertently chosen to wear our matching 5k t-shirts.  How embarrassing, we both said.  But no one will see us.

Looking back, you question every choice you made.  Why did I change from my flannel pajama bottoms into my swishy workout pants?  Why did I throw on a bra?  Why did C and I decide to wear shoes and jackets?  These choices, while funny, are normally unheard of for us for a quick errand out of the house.

Why did I suggest we try a new route?  Why did we end up taking our usual route instead?  Why did we see the house decorated like a face with Christmas lights that got us laughing and debating whether or not to stop and take a picture?  Why didn't we?  And why, did that guy run the stop sign....

Why do I remember every detail of the accident?  I thought I was supposed to forget the moment the car appeared out of nowhere in the dark of night.  I wish I could forget what it felt like when my head crashed against the side window or the moment of impact when my face hit the airbag or reaching out to grab the front of my husband's shirt in panic.  The relentless sound of the horn blaring when we came to a stop, the sight of my husband repeatedly punching the center of the steering wheel as hard as he could until it stopped.  The smell of smoke and thinking we were on fire and the terrifying sound of C quietly saying, "My neck..."

We did the quick check.  My husband and K had minor bumps and bruises.  C and I took the brunt of the injuries, but we were all alive and that's all that mattered.  Then my husband broke the silence..."Where's my hat?"  (Whew.  A moment of normalcy amidst the wreckage.)  A policeman leaned his head into my husband's window and asked, "How is everyone?"  And my husband said...."Well, I can't find my hat."  (Dude, let it go.)

We started hearing the approaching sirens and C and I were surrounded by paramedics.  If you've never been in this situation, and I pray you haven't, these comforting and gentle men become your immediate heroes.  So when I heard a voice ask, "What size does she need?" and the man holding my neck said, "She's a small," I remember thanking him.  I don't care if he was referring to my neck.  He called me a "small" and he became my personal favorite.

I remember demanding that my family ride in the same ambulance.  I remember being strapped to a board and carried through the dark cold and slid into the bright warm ambulance.  And then I remember the rising claustrophobia-induced panic working it's way to the surface and the paramedic's face appearing in front of mine as he talked me down.  That's when I heard my husband's voice say, "I got your Tough Mudder bandana off the mirror" and God (once again) used that darn event in my favor and I mentally put myself back into the underground tunnels where all I could hear was my teammate saying, "I can see the light so we're almost out"  and I turned my focus onto the ambulance lights and mentally ran that statement through my head on a loop.

Then I remember lying side by side with C in a trauma room, unable to look at each other and depending on the comfort of holding hands, which is how we sleep on the nights she climbs into bed with us.

And I remember her tiny voice saying she has to go potty and realizing that I did too.  Oh gosh.

Many x-rays later, we were both cut loose from our restraints and released with pain medication, instructions to rest and warnings that the following day we would feel like we've been hit by a car.  They were correct.

The healing has begun.  We're starting to recover physically.  Some PTS symptoms have arisen in C.  She needs to sleep with us every night.  She has nightmares.  She was initially refusing to eat, then required me to feed her and then her awesome big brother Z, worked his bribery charm with a Happy Meal & milkshake. Her response to returning to Kindergarten is, "I better not" which is heartbreaking considering the battle we went through weening her into all-day-every-day Kindergarten and she's only been full-time for a little over a month.

Besides that, we need to focus on the basics of dealing with police reports, insurance claims and replacing our van.  

There are a lot of "Why's" in this.  I think it's normal to ask the hard questions and that's okay.  What I don't think is okay is to stay in the why's.  I completely trusted God with every aspect of my life when I walked out the front door, (dressed like my husband), on Wednesday evening.  Despite the many circumstances in my life that changed that night, my God remains the same.  Not only did He protect and spare my family from tragedy, but He surrounded us with friends and family who prayed, came to the hospital and sent messages of support and offers of help.

And those of you who heard me speak at the Women's Conference a couple weeks ago won't be surprised to hear this:  When we left the hospital in our friend Mandi's car to go home that night, the song "Redeemed" started on the radio...and I said,
"Ssshhhh....God's hugging me right now...."

He loves me and I trust Him.
And that, my friends, will never change.

Timing Is Everything

Thanksgiving is my favorite Holiday because it's the one that has nothing to do with getting anything, but rather giving thanks for everything that you've already received. 

And maybe even more importantly, it's the one with the feast of my favorite comfort foods, most of which evoke warm fuzzy memories of my Mamaw Putter.

But as life goes, memories, for good or for bad, have a way of accumulating as the years pass.

Take for instance the time 10 years ago when my husband decided to install a Jet Tub a mere 4 days before we were scheduled to host Thanksgiving at our house.  It took him less than 3 hours to gut the entire bathroom and another 3 hours to try to figure out what to do next. Two days later, we had no running water and just 24 hours before everyone was scheduled to arrive, each time you turned on the bathtub jets, the microwave would kick on, a fuse would blow and we'd lose power in the kitchen.

Tim the Tool Man had nothing on my husband.

Since then, he has faithfully kept his promise not to begin any home improvement projects in the months of November or December.  So this past Tuesday when he excitedly said, "Go see what I did in the kitchen!" it didn't cross my mind to be concerned until I flipped on the light switch and thought a nuclear bomb detonated.  When the spots in my eyes cleared, I realized he installed eight T8 fluorescent bulbs around the ceiling of the kitchen.  Then I realized how badly our kitchen walls need repainted and 19 people were eating dinner at our house the next day. 

Thanks a lot, Clark Griswold.  You not only exposed our nasty walls, but our kitchen can now be seen from the Space Station.

Despite the messed up walls and the need for sunglasses in my kitchen, this was by far my most stress-free Thanksgiving ever.  Much of that has to do with the season of life God has graciously blessed me with right now.  A season of health and strength, both physically and emotionally. 

But on top of that, this year, I learned the big secret.  The key to solving the unspoken dread of every woman who has ever hosted a Thanksgiving dinner, was handed to me on a silver platter and now I'm going to pass it on to you.

Everyone knows that the turkey, although the star of the show, is also the biggest pain in the a**.  You have to time the entire dinner around it, trying to strike that delicate balance between cooking it early enough to use that precious broth for your side dishes, but not so early that you're serving a cold and dry turkey to your guests.  The carving of the turkey is never as glamorous as they make it appear on tv and then you're stuck with the unsightly carcass sitting on your counter top the rest of the evening.

If any of that sounds familiar, read on. 

1.  Cook your turkey the day before and save that precious broth to be used at your convenience. 
2.  Carve the turkey, place all the meat in a large aluminum pan and then happily rid your house of those dead bones.
3.  Pour 2 cans of turkey broth over the meat and then cover the pan with foil.  Refrigerate and marinate overnight.  (I used Bowman Landess broth from Kroger.)
4.  An hour before your meal, pop that covered pan of meat into a 350 degree oven.
5.  Remove the meat from the broth, platter it up and serve.

Be prepared to bite into the moistest most delicious turkey you've ever eaten.  A huge shout-out to my good friends, Dave & Mindy for sharing that with me.

So there's one holiday problem solved for ya.  As for the family member who arrives to dinner carrying a sweater clad Persian cat wrapped in a baby blanket....well, you're on your own with that one.