Be Still

Apparently I missed this sign on my path with God recently, because I'm about to learn something.  Or I'm supposed to be learning something.  Or I should have already learned something.  I feel like I'm back in my 9th grade 'Intro to Conversational Spanish' class looking at the teacher like she's speaking a foreign language.  Oh wait...never mind.

Hopefully the lesson becomes clear.  And fast.

Here's the deal.  My husband planned a business trip.  He also planned to take me with him.  Half of that plan was carried out.  The other half fell through.  Guess which half didn't get to go?

I worked through all the emotions with that.  Rage.  Sadness.  (I played the Martyr Card for about a minute until I remembered how much I despise the Martyr Card.)  Disappointment.  Back to rage.  Then I decided that I liked the rage...a lot...I was really enjoying the rage.

I finally worked my way to acceptance and began making the most of the 3 days I'd have with my kids and also creating a very special homecoming date the day he comes home.  He's only gone Wednesday to Friday but we're never apart so that seems like a really long time!  Especially considering that it was supposed to be "our getaway."  (Uh oh, I just went back to rage for a second there.)

Yesterday, C and I dropped him off at the airport early in the morning, both of us in our jammies and neither of us wearing shoes.  We're classy like that.  The first half of the trip back home focused on trying to explain to C that daddy won't be home "tomorrow" but he'll be home "the next tomorrow."  At the halfway point, she announced she hadn't peed since last night.  Two minutes later, we were running into a dirty Rest Stop bathroom.  Barefoot.  *shudder*  Then we consoled ourselves with an over-priced Tim Horton's donut.  (A .95 cent donut should come lathered in Godiva Chocolate, NOT lightly scattered with multi-colored sprinkles.  Shame on you, Mr. Horton.) 

But the rest of the day, although bumpy, was productive.  I got most everything done that I'd planned and spent a fun Girls Night with my daughters eating Lee's Famous Recipe chicken on my bed while we watched The Bachelorette season premier on dvr.  We had a few bouts with a sobbing C, who misses her daddy, but we survived.

Enter today.  The busiest day that included a bunch of errands, lunch with a friend, the pup's first Vet appt, plans for C and her friend to get their ears pierced together, home for pizza with the kids and topped off with K & A's end of year choir and band concert.  This day was going to be productive, fun and most importantly, fast!  My husband comes home tomorrow!

So when I was making my coffee and heard C vomiting in the bathroom, my heart sank.  First of all, a flu-ridden 5 year old is very sad.  My heart breaks when any of my children are sick.  It comes with the mom territory.  But secondly, my day was just reduced to sitting in the rocking chair with my sick sleeping child.  Not productive.  Not fun.  Not fast.  Sitting and rocking. 

Clearly, I wasn't meant to be on that trip with my husband.  I'm needed at home.  I get that and I accept that.  But what else?  What am I supposed to do with this long day spent alone with nothing but my own thoughts?  God has obviously decided that today I will be still.

"Be still and know that I am God."  ~Psalm 46:10~

This is a hard week for me!  I just wanted time to move a little faster for a few days!  I know that you are God!  Why must I be still today of all days?  This week of all weeks?  So much to do!  The perfect time to get it all done!  

All it took was for my sick child to say, "Mommy, can we by-o in the chair today?"  And my world stopped.  The One who created me knew that it would.

Had He said, "Will you cancel your plans and be still for me today?"  Sad to say, it wouldn't have happened.

He knows me and today He wants me to be still.  I'm not sure what's behind it and I don't know why.  All I know is Who, and today that will have to be enough.

Pinteresting

It's been a busy few weeks around here.  The remainder of April consisted of planning and carrying out my husband's surprise 40th birthday party.  Success!  Then it was a youth trip for two of our daughters and the month was topped off with Z's Senior Prom.  (Don't get me started, I'll cry.)

As busy as April was, May is much worse.  Everything always seems to hit in May and this year proves to be no different.  A is halfway through Driver's Ed, we're finishing up C's Gymnastics classes, her recital was this past weekend, the approach of A's prom, Mother's Day, a business trip for my husband, K's birthday, family vacation, Z's Graduation and the planning of his Open House, where the goal is to have a thoroughly cleaned house, beautiful yard and tons of his favorite food to host an amazing and memorable party for our son.  That's pressure.  (Oh my goodness, my little boy is graduating.  Okay, now I'm crying.)

Throw in the day to day cleaning, yard work, appointments, clients, kids activities and May is utter chaos.  And did I mention my early Mother's Day gift?  A puppy!!  A tiny black and white Llassapoo, who may or may not resemble a skunk, and is currently sitting on my lap trying to lick my coffee mug.  If memory serves, that's exactly how C got addicted to coffee as an infant.  But I digress.

Enter Pinterest.  The site that, with a simple scroll of your mouse, can make you feel hungry, inadequate, bitter and inspired all at once.  I don't have a Pinterest account.  I simply stalk, copy and paste.  A lot.  It's a great place to gather ideas and recipes for big events.  Pinterest was partially responsible for something I made for my husband's party.  It showed a little flower pot full of suckers with "Getting Old Sucks" stenciled across the front.  Cute!  I think I can do that.  Three weeks, 1,000 suckers and a 3-tiered topiary later, I had created what became known as "Sucker-Man", a 15 lb monstrosity who is sitting on our dining room table.  I tend to take things too far.  Shocked, right?

But one Pinterest idea seems to be working.  It's a Spring Cleaning schedule.  Cleaning is not my strong suit.  I like things straightened and surface clean, but don't look too deep....or run a white glove anywhere....or turn on the ceiling fan above the dining room table unless you want chunks of dust bunnies flying into your food.

I've tried to spring clean.  But, I'm easily distracted, going from one thing to the next while leaving a string of half done projects in my wake.  This schedule solves that problem completely.  The idea is to do one thing per day.  Don't get distracted by other things, because they'll have their day.

So in preparation for Z's party, I decided to give this a try.  I'm now 7 days in and I can't believe the difference it's making.  It's scary what I'd gotten used to over the years of living in our house.  Now it doesn't seem to matter if there's dishes in the sink or toys all over the floor, the house has a CLEAN feel to it!  And since Vinegar was the Pinterest suggested cleaning solution of choice, my house has a wonderful smell....kind of potato salad-y....mmmm.....

Here's what I'm doing for anyone interested in giving this a try.  I combined a few things to do on the same day to save time and some of it made sense to do together. 

Day 1:   Clean all light fixtures, ceiling fans, cobwebs along the ceiling and corners and dust all horizontal surfaces.  This could be broken down into 4 separate days, but I combined them so that I could sweep and mop the floors immediately afterward because, trust me, they needed it immediately afterward.  Side Note:  I had NO idea how many horizontal surfaces we have in our house until I made my way from room to room.  Don't forget the tops of door frames.  I also realized I need to look up more often.  *shudder*

Day 2:  Spot clean all the walls.  My stairwell was a disaster.  Apparently none of my children use banisters....or napkins.

Day 3:  Vacuum the furniture, wash all the blinds and remove and launder all curtains.  Again, you could break this down if you wanted.

Day 4:  Spot clean the carpet.  My Little Green Machine came in very handy!

Day 5:  Deep clean the kitchen, including sorting and organizing the cupboards, drawers and fridge.  This was an all day job for me that actually ended with the decision to repaint the kitchen. 

Day 6:  Deep clean the bathroom, including sorting and organizing the medicine cabinet, linen closet, and drawers.

Day 7:  Wash the windows and window tracks both inside and out.

Day 8:  Sort through your clothes and donate things you don't wear anymore.

Day 9:  Wash all bedding, including the bed skirt and comforter.  Sprinkle the mattress with Baking Soda and vacuum it up after 1 hour.

Day 10:  Repaint the kitchen.  (Sigh)  Obviously, that won't apply to everyone.

Day 11:  Hire a cleaning lady so this never happens again.

All you great house cleaners, please feel free to share ideas, helpful tips or anything I've missed so I can add it to my list!  

Kindergarten Screening Day

How it's possible that my youngest child is ready to start school in the Fall is hard to wrap my mind around. I know it's cliche, but it seems she was just born yesterday.

What's not cliche, are my fears of her heading off to school. Whereas most mother's are concerned that their little girl won't be able to handle a full day away from home, my fears lie in all the things she might say in a full day away from home.

C is a product of a child born to socially relaxed parents in their mid thirties and joining 3 siblings who are significantly older than she is, one of which is an ornery teenage boy named Z.

We have created a 5 year old who can whip off a "That's what she said" response at frighteningly (in)appropriate times. This is the child who screamed "holy mudder!" when the nurse gave her a shot in the behind last summer. She's the child who stuffed the crotch of her gymnastics leotard with 2 paper towels so she could "look like daddy." I really wish I'd noticed that before her class, rather than after.

It's hard to describe her wardrobe of choice, but it's not uncommon to leave the house with her dressed as Spiderman or wearing a formal dress with ugg boots or her toe shoes. Shoes that literally look like bare feet. My son has a pair of black ones and when he exited a bathroom stall at college, the person standing at the urinal gasped to see a skinny white boy because he was expecting a barefoot black man.

She's also the one in the family who can't say the dog's name, Axel, without it sounding exactly like asshole. She leans out the back door and yells, "Come inside, asshole!" She can frequently be heard saying, "I love my asshole." And when she was describing our family to me last week, she said "We have 6 people and an asshole."

To be perfectly honest, we think it's hilarious. We also live in a home with very little adult supervision, so take that for what it's worth. But I highly doubt that the same school who got offended by our boy saying "Balls" during the NHS speech heard round the world, will appreciate the personality of our 5 old the way we do.

But here we are. Just as Z's graduating....in comes C....(dramatic music of your choice here.) If they didn't appreciate Z's methods of thinking outside of the box, they're in for a real treat with C.

Friday the 13th was the big screening day. That's right. Friday the 13th.

She woke up early, chose a relatively normal outfit if you don't count the toe shoes, strapped on a 20 pound fully stuffed Dora The Explorer backpack and asked, "Is my butt crack showing?"
I knew we were in for a long day.

The checking in process was a blur. They scurried C away before either of us could start crying. (Okay, before I could start crying.) I was taken to the secretary's desk, handed a folder of paperwork and told to take a seat. So I pulled up a chair. Twenty minutes later, as the secretary and I sat across from each other at her desk, I glanced around and noticed the tables set up behind me, full of parents filling out their paperwork. Oh crap. I awkwardly said, "Um, I bet you wanted me to sit over there, didn't you?" She said, "Yep" and continued stapling her papers. Well, aren't we off to a banging start.

I completed the paperwork with the answering of one final question. Would you classify your child as Below Average, Average or Advanced. (Insert me proudly circling Advanced and secretly hoping the secretary was watching....and since I was still sitting at her desk, she probably was.)

Next stop, the nurses station to discuss her medical history. What I wasn't expecting was for her to have seen C's YouTube video of her singing "We don't give a damn for the whole state of Michigan." Well, now that we're fully acquainted....

Two hours later, I was sitting across from one of the Kindergarten teachers, as we reviewed some of C's answers on her tests:

1. What do fish have that make them able to swim? Legs.
2. How many legs does an elephant have? 14
3. What is a shirt made of? Cardboard.
4. What does a Fireman do? Fixes ladders.
5. If today was Saturday, what was yesterday? King's Island.
6. Name something that's round. Diamond.

Where are the questions that pertain to life? Ask her how she likes her coffee. Crap, tell her how you like yours and she'll whip you up a cup. Ask her the address of our condo in Hilton Head and be amazed.

Okay, maybe Advanced was a bit of stretch. If I could go back, I'd cross out all the choices and write in Gifted. Because I have no doubt that a Fireman fixes his ladder if it breaks, my engagement ring has a round diamond and I think changing Fridays to King's Island is nothing short of brilliant.

We left hand in hand and I asked her what she thought.

"That was freakin awesome."

That's what she said....

My 1st Easter

Okay, technically this is my 40th Easter. But this one is different. This one is new. This one is extra special.

Rewind 30 years to when I was 10 years old. I was baptized.

Fast forward to Wednesday March 28th, 2012. I was baptized....again.

I remember my first baptism very clearly. I remember my family was all baptized together. My sister cried. I didn't.

After we were dunked into the water, the congregation was asked to signify their approval of church membership with "yay" or "nay." I think everyone said "yay" although as they got to know my personality, they probably wished they'd said "nay."

I was told what the baptism represented. It was a public demonstration that I'd turned my life over and asked Jesus Christ to be my Savior. I had done that, I understood that and I in no way believe that my baptism at the age of 10 didn't "count."

But as many of you know from previous posts, God and I have been on quite the journey together. Lots of ups and downs. Lessons learned. Mostly the hard way. Stubborn refusals on my part to change in certain areas. Stubborn refusals on His part to ever give up on me. Looking back at some of the events in my life, that at the time I classified as low points, actually turned into the biggest lessons and blessings of all.

Several years ago, as I journeyed through Beth Moore's Breaking Free study, God brought to mind my childhood baptism. The first thought that came to me was, "I did what they asked and they approved me for church membership." Uh Oh. Red Flag.

That was just one of many stepping stones of my life that sent an unspoken message.
1. Do what we require. 2. Get approved.

And God sent me a little message. Get re-baptized.

As with many of God's little messages, it went ignored. I felt too silly to ask my Pastor and try to explain myself. I felt fear that people would judge me and have a lot of questions about it and maybe my answers wouldn't satisfy them and they'd disagree with my decision and I wouldn't get their approval. (gasp.)

Then on Sunday March 25th, our pastor preached a message on taking off your grave clothes. Grave clothes that bind us to the point where we can't move. Grave clothes that stink of our death. Grave clothes that no longer hold any power over us, once we give our lives to Christ and He cleanses us with His blood.

When He raised Lazarus from the dead he said, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go."
(John 11:44)

And it hit me like a brick. God has been unraveling my grave clothes. I've mentioned before how God has brought me to Freedom. Freedom from my need for approval from others. Freedom from my guilt of past mistakes. And most importantly, freedom to find my identity in Christ.

Society says, "We love you as long as you.....(fill in the blank.)"

Christ says, "I love you....even if you...(fill in the blank.)"

I'm living proof. If He hasn't given up on me yet, He's not going to. Christ loves me. Unconditionally. And I am free from my grave clothes.

Before I realized what I was doing, God picked me up and I met my Pastor back at his seat after the sermon and was calmly explaining rambling a jumbled version of my story. He didn't refuse my request, bat an eye or even gasp.

And 3 days later, in front of a hand full of people, before co-ed volleyball games began, I stood in the baptismal with Pastor Randy, who said, "I'm still going to ask you. Do you believe in Christ, the Son of the Living God?" I realized then, that I'd waited 30 years for that very moment. And I went under the water for no other reason than to proclaim the love for my Savior who loved me first...even and especially when....I don't deserve it.

Happy Easter.

PS. A few days ago, I was wondering why God moved me from my seat on that day. I'd been putting it off for years and ignoring His request, so what was happening in my life that made that particular Sunday so significant? And the answer came to me.

That was Day 7 of the Red Zone of the radical SOB / Lent promise starvation diet plan....oh my gosh, I think I fasted.

March MAD-ness Part II....The Conclusion

When last I'd left you, a friend and I were Carb-Free on Day 3 of the S.O.B, aka; the very strict 14 day South Beach Red Zone, and my husband had hidden my scale. Throw in an experiment to not eat anything after dinner in honor of Lent and I was well on my way to a Psyche Ward.

My original plan to survive without a scale was to have my husband take a picture of me every day wearing shorts and a sports bra in hopes that I would see my body melt away as the days passed. Besides the obvious humiliation of asking my husband to take my "Before" pictures dressed like a Biggest Loser contestant, they only served to make matters worse. How is looking at pictures of my boobs stuffed into a uni-bra flopped over saggy belly skin with my face looking like a Lindsay Lohan mug shot, helpful? It's not.

That phase ended about the same time the Tylenol PM phase began. Yes, that's right. I was medicating myself to sleep as a survival technique.

So far so good on my journey to better health.

On Day 5, I resorted to sneaking next door to use my neighbor's bathroom scale, much to the shock of their unsuspecting cleaning lady. Not my best moment. I'm sure it wasn't her's, either.

So on Day 6, my friend and I decided enough was enough and made some changes, starting with cutting the Red Zone down to 7 days and then moving onto the Yellow Zone, which allows the reintroduction of healthy carbs and is a much more reasonable way of life. Also, my husband gave me my scale back, if not for me, but for the sake of the relationship with our neighbor and their cleaning lady. I quit the sleeping pills cold turkey and I wasn't mad anymore. Fruit and yogurt bring me peace.

Which brings me to my update and the things I learned about myself throughout this process:

I lost 9 pounds in 2 weeks, there's a reason I don't practice Lent and I'm merely one Red Zone away from an over-the-counter drug addiction.

As for my relationship with my scale....touch it and die.

Just in case you wanted my opinion: My review of 21 Jump Street

I unavoidably waited 8 long days to see this movie, but these guys take the term "worth the wait" to a whole new level.

In the spirit of keeping this honest and unbiased, I should foreclose my total crush on Channing Tatum. I doubt that puts me in the minority here. You might remember that his bare behind single-handedly bumped my review of the movie The Vow up a whole grade a few weeks ago. I assure you, none of that came into play with my opinion of this movie.

21 Jump Street
~starring Channing Tatum...and some other guy~ Rated R
It's a Comedy about the lives of 2 opposite guys, Jenko and Schmidt, who knew each other from high school, reconnected in the Police Academy, became friends and used their strengths to help each other graduate and become Police Officers. Shortly after, they get transferred to an undercover branch of the force that sends them back to high school to infiltrate a drug ring in an effort to track down the suppliers.

There are some movies that show all the funny parts in the previews and you sit for 2 hours recognizing all the familiar scenes, but you walk away disappointed. This movie does not do that. Every scene has something hilariously unexpected, to the point that I feel like I need to see it again because my 40 year old bladder and giant coffee had me running for the bathroom just as Jenko and Schmidt arrived at high school on their first day and I know I missed a lot of laughs in those 5 minutes.

Now for me, there's a fine line between stupid humor full of cussing and raunch that I find ridiculously offensive (ie; The Change Up) and a movie that has cussing and raunch, but has you rolling on the floor laughing from beginning to end. (ie; Wedding Crashers.) For the life of me, I don't know how I determine which is which. Maybe it's the likeability of the characters...or the hotness...ahem, but I either love it or hate it and there's no in between. With that being said, I've gotta be completely honest here. This movie has a lot of cussing and there are a few scenes that would definitely qualify as raunch. You do not want to take your young kids to see this, which is a shame because it's such a funny movie, that minus the cussing and raunch, I know my 12 year old would really enjoy.

I'm just giving you a heads up. If you're easily offended, this is not the movie for you. But if you're a Channing Tatum stalker fan and love to laugh at stupid humor, you'll love this movie as much as I do.

My grade for 21 Jump Street: A+ and 10 thumbs up.
Hey, I know I only have 2 thumbs, but this is my review and I can do what I want.

Rabies & Negligees

Believe it or not, I don't report every bit of mayhem that happens around this house. But some days just beg to be shared. Yesterday was one of those days.

I knew things were a little off when C, who had gone to bed dressed in her purple monkey jammies the night before, awoke the next morning wearing a rainbow colored Go-Go dress complete with black boots. Huh.

Things took another unexpected turn when she and I went outside to swim and were greeted by her favorite cat, Mango, returning from a hunt in the cornfields. She took off to pick up her beloved cat, just as I realized that something was terribly wrong with him. His mouth was gaping open in the look of a snarl and he was panting really hard.

Ask my family about my biggest fear. Rabies. It stems back to an episode of Oprah many years ago when a doctor said something I'll never forget: "Once someone shows the signs of Rabies, there is no cure." And with that, my world turned upside down and I, the stay at home mom, was given my mission. KEEP MY FAMILY SAFE FROM RABIES. They'll thank me someday, mark my word.

Fast forward 15 years to seeing my 5 year old joyfully run toward what I'm convinced is a rabid Mango. And in true big-screen-slow-motion-fashion, I yelled "NOOOOOO!!!" And then screamed hysterically when Mango turned his head and made direct eye contact with me.
Drama was clearly called for here, people.

I locked Mango safely away in the garage and immediately called my husband. Granted, this wasn't my husband's 1st phone call at work from me crying that one of our pets has Rabies, so he didn't exactly go on High Alert. I don't cry Wolf. I cry Rabies. Better safe than sorry.

C and I continued our day by the pool until it was time for a snack and some laundry. I peeled off my wet bathing suit and grabbed the closest thing to wear....my flowered, silk and barely there negligee....just until my flannel jammies were out of the dryer.

Now enter the Mail Lady. A little back story. For starters, she tried to sell us bed sheets out of the trunk of her mail car a couple years ago. She also has a habit of sitting in our driveway laying on her horn until I come out, no matter how long it takes, even if I'm with a massage client. Fun stuff.

My inappropriate nightie was barely over my head when the familiar blare of the mail horn sounded and I heard C open the front door.
Oh. My. Gosh.

I looked outside to realize the nightmare would only get worse. I had the safety cones set up across the driveway for when C plays outside, which means the mail car was parked all the way down at the end of our driveway.

She'd seen me, so it was too late to act like we weren't home. As quickly as I could without anything flopping out of my top or bottom, I made my way to her car, avoiding eye contact as I took the package, without explanation or apology, and then hurried back to our house while successfully ignoring the honk of approval from a semi driver as he passed.

When I got back into the house, completely humiliated, C said, "Let's open the garage and show her Mango."

Oh, let's not reveal all of our traumatizing freak show antics to the mail lady. We need to save some for the Amish.

• Update on Mango: As it turns out, a cat with Rabies bares a striking resemblance to a cat with a fur ball. False alarm. Carry on.
  

• And a quick thank you to the semi driver from the 40 year old mother of 4 who will take a compliment wherever she can get it.