May Jesus be real to you and may he be at the center of the hustle and bustle.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 24
Monday, December 22
pink watched 2.5 hours of dora, but...
look at all I accomplished! Well, ok, you can't actually look at it. That would require a working digital camera and we have none. However, I did bake up a double batch of ginger snaps, a double batch of my secret recipe chocolate peppermint squares, homemade caramels, and Russian tea cakes. The dough for gingerbread men is in the fridge (we are in a ginger mood this year).
I should hire this Dora girl more often! Seems when she keeps an eye on Pink, the whole world is before me.
I should hire this Dora girl more often! Seems when she keeps an eye on Pink, the whole world is before me.
Friday, December 19
5 years, 4 graduations, 3 big moves, 1 baby, 1 wedding, and 1 miscarriage later...
we still miss you. We still wish you were here. It still hurts. Our breath still escapes us, tears still sometimes fall, and we still find ourselves wondering how so much life has passed without the one man we thought would somehow never leave. We still look around and say "I wish dad could (see/hear/experience) this." Only now the sweet mixes with, and usually overpowers, the bitter. Joy did come in the morning. And in a way you never did leave us.
We still love you, dad.
I gave this card to my dad for his birthday the year before he died. A few months later he gave it back to me for mine.
We still love you, dad.
I gave this card to my dad for his birthday the year before he died. A few months later he gave it back to me for mine.
Thursday, December 18
what i've learned in 25 months of parenting
Thank you, J, for the tag. In no particular order:
1. Humble yourself.
2. DO NOT COMPARE. Yourself or your child. We are unique individuals (how's that for redundancy?)
3. It's fun when you do compare your kid and she/he is ahead of the curve.
4. Don't smile about #3 for too long or you'll look like a fool rather than a proud mama
5. My child is not my own and giving her over to God is the hardest thing I have to do as a mother
6. When in doubt about how to handle a tantrum, kneel down, offer kind words, and give a big hug and kiss. This works with teenagers, too (at least with my students).
*disclaimer: #6 assumes that you do, in fact, dole out consequences for tantrums on a regular basis
7. Making cookies makes everything better
8. Mom really was right.
9. I hate being the bad guy.
10. Never send a child to day care in nice clothes, white clothes, or anything that you'd like to have her/him wear again.
11. It's true: the dog moves from child status to pet status the moment the carrier, filled with an extra 7.5 pounds, glides through the door
12. Read, read, read.
13. Turn to more than one person for advice.
14. When offered advice, smile and say, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
15. Let your child DO things: brush teeth, help with dinner, fold laundry, put things away, etc. Build in experiences.
16. Teach cleaning up as a way of life from the moment she/he crawls.
17. Stare at her/him in the middle of the night whenever possible.
18. Spend time with other moms, with and without the kids.
19. Schedule date nights.
20. Stop discussing business with husband in front of her/him long before she/he can talk.
21. A night at home, with baby sleeping at a friend's house, can be the most romantic getaway in the world (and cheep, too).
22. Teach Bible memory verses early (I had no idea Pink would have one memorized by now)
23. Humble yourself. Again. A little more. Lit-tle more. There.
24. This should probably be first, but follow Matt. 6:33.
25. Enjoy!
1. Humble yourself.
2. DO NOT COMPARE. Yourself or your child. We are unique individuals (how's that for redundancy?)
3. It's fun when you do compare your kid and she/he is ahead of the curve.
4. Don't smile about #3 for too long or you'll look like a fool rather than a proud mama
5. My child is not my own and giving her over to God is the hardest thing I have to do as a mother
6. When in doubt about how to handle a tantrum, kneel down, offer kind words, and give a big hug and kiss. This works with teenagers, too (at least with my students).
*disclaimer: #6 assumes that you do, in fact, dole out consequences for tantrums on a regular basis
7. Making cookies makes everything better
8. Mom really was right.
9. I hate being the bad guy.
10. Never send a child to day care in nice clothes, white clothes, or anything that you'd like to have her/him wear again.
11. It's true: the dog moves from child status to pet status the moment the carrier, filled with an extra 7.5 pounds, glides through the door
12. Read, read, read.
13. Turn to more than one person for advice.
14. When offered advice, smile and say, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
15. Let your child DO things: brush teeth, help with dinner, fold laundry, put things away, etc. Build in experiences.
16. Teach cleaning up as a way of life from the moment she/he crawls.
17. Stare at her/him in the middle of the night whenever possible.
18. Spend time with other moms, with and without the kids.
19. Schedule date nights.
20. Stop discussing business with husband in front of her/him long before she/he can talk.
21. A night at home, with baby sleeping at a friend's house, can be the most romantic getaway in the world (and cheep, too).
22. Teach Bible memory verses early (I had no idea Pink would have one memorized by now)
23. Humble yourself. Again. A little more. Lit-tle more. There.
24. This should probably be first, but follow Matt. 6:33.
25. Enjoy!
Friday, December 12
Wednesday, December 10
what i do that drives my husband crazy
I've been inspired by girlymama to write a post of my own just like hers. Here goes:
1. tuck in the sheets on his side of the bed
2. make him get out of bed so i can straighten the sheets before i get in
3. i'm a pile person. he is, too, but he can't take the sheer volume of two people's piles
4. when i turn the dimmer up - on the car dashboard, in the bedroom, in the bathroom. God forbid he encounter a normally-bright light bulb (say, all of 60 watts)
5. when i teach pink how to pout (in my defense, it's unintentional)
6. when he gets something out to eat or drink and i sneak the first bite as if i'm entitled to it
7. when i take the almost-empty bottles in the shower that he has already turned up-side-down, and put them back right-side-up so he has to shake the heck out of them
8. i can't finish anything. i move from project to project (see #3)
9. when i take the trash out (yes, you read that correctly. it's called a quirk and it works in my favor; I'm not going to argue it)
10. i can't for the life of me remember to save gas receipts or reset the odometer when I get gas
Now I have one thing to say about all of this: when do I get to write a list of what drives me crazy?
Wait, never mind on that forthcoming list. What he does to drive me crazy would comprise a much shorter list than the one he could come up with if I gave him even five more minutes for this one. Let's just say I'm blessed he puts up with me and and call it a day.
What do you do that drives your husband crazy? Enquiring minds want to know!
1. tuck in the sheets on his side of the bed
2. make him get out of bed so i can straighten the sheets before i get in
3. i'm a pile person. he is, too, but he can't take the sheer volume of two people's piles
4. when i turn the dimmer up - on the car dashboard, in the bedroom, in the bathroom. God forbid he encounter a normally-bright light bulb (say, all of 60 watts)
5. when i teach pink how to pout (in my defense, it's unintentional)
6. when he gets something out to eat or drink and i sneak the first bite as if i'm entitled to it
7. when i take the almost-empty bottles in the shower that he has already turned up-side-down, and put them back right-side-up so he has to shake the heck out of them
8. i can't finish anything. i move from project to project (see #3)
9. when i take the trash out (yes, you read that correctly. it's called a quirk and it works in my favor; I'm not going to argue it)
10. i can't for the life of me remember to save gas receipts or reset the odometer when I get gas
Now I have one thing to say about all of this: when do I get to write a list of what drives me crazy?
Wait, never mind on that forthcoming list. What he does to drive me crazy would comprise a much shorter list than the one he could come up with if I gave him even five more minutes for this one. Let's just say I'm blessed he puts up with me and and call it a day.
What do you do that drives your husband crazy? Enquiring minds want to know!
Tuesday, December 9
3 ingredient cookies
OK, not quite. You'll need the three listed ingredients, plus whatever it takes to make the sugar cookies (mine took oil and water).
Soooo-good-you-can't-stop-eating-them-cranberry-towers
1 package of sugar cookie dough, prepared but not baked (safety first! get the kind that does not require egg)
2 cups cranberry sauce leftover from Thanksgiving (or prepared fresh or, gasp!, from a can)
2 cups fresh whipped cream
Scoop sugar cookie dough by rounded tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheet, 2 inches apart. Bake at 350 for 6-7 minutes until set around the edges (the center should be good and gooey)
Allow to cool slightly and remove to a flat surface to cool completely (they will fall through a cookie rack)
Stack, from bottom to top: cookie, tablespoon of cranberry, tablespoon of whipped cream, cookie, tablespoon of cranberry, tablespoon of whipped cream.
For more great tips, check out Works For Me Wednesdays
Friday, December 5
rain
The weatherman promised me rain. He said it two or three days in a row earlier this week, holding it out there, baiting me, telling me that the warm, sunny days would finally hide for a while behind dark gray clouds and drizzle. I held my breath, anxiously anticipating some wet stuff.
It's 75 and sunny outside today.
I wish I could say the same for my insides. The holidays have so far been harder than I expected. I had finally arrived at a place where the Dec 19th anniversary of my dad's death, plus his absence at the holiday table (or phone call home) was merely melancholy. It didn't feel raw, just sad. Things were good. I was healthy. I'd grieved and cried, I'd processed and coped, I'd healed quite a bit. I liked it.
But as I entered Thanksgiving tired and sick, the sudden reality of my non-pregnant state hit me hard. As soon as I knew the baby was gone, I grieved the loss of a Christmastime pregnancy. After being pregnant during the summer last time, I was relishing the cute Christmassy tops I would buy. I anticipated being able to feel kicks, and to rub on little bumps from feet sticking out of my tummy (ok, maybe that would have come after Christmas, but I was hoping).
Something about the arrival of the holidays, though, made this loss much more real. And I'm raw once again. It feels like five years ago all over again. And as the world has attacked me this past week (no joke - it's been a week when I've been assalted left and right) and I've not had time to stop and find support, the rawness of my heart has increased.
Last night it started to make sense to me. I knew I had been grieving. I knew the 10 days of sickness and lack of sleep were wearing on me. But last night I realized that, just as I was starting to come to terms with this miscarriage, I have been thrown back into the turmoil of grief.
And it's raining on the inside.
This time around, though, I'm striving to find joy in the midst of the stinging pain. I'm not going for happiness or giddiness, but for joy in knowing that Jesus, who suffered tremendously, came that his joy might be in us. In fact, the name of the blog was inspired by that verse.
Don't you just love when God gets ironic? I thought I was being so spiritual with the name of my blog; God was thinking of the challenge it would provide for me only months later: turning to my Source of joy in the rain.
It's 75 and sunny outside today.
I wish I could say the same for my insides. The holidays have so far been harder than I expected. I had finally arrived at a place where the Dec 19th anniversary of my dad's death, plus his absence at the holiday table (or phone call home) was merely melancholy. It didn't feel raw, just sad. Things were good. I was healthy. I'd grieved and cried, I'd processed and coped, I'd healed quite a bit. I liked it.
But as I entered Thanksgiving tired and sick, the sudden reality of my non-pregnant state hit me hard. As soon as I knew the baby was gone, I grieved the loss of a Christmastime pregnancy. After being pregnant during the summer last time, I was relishing the cute Christmassy tops I would buy. I anticipated being able to feel kicks, and to rub on little bumps from feet sticking out of my tummy (ok, maybe that would have come after Christmas, but I was hoping).
Something about the arrival of the holidays, though, made this loss much more real. And I'm raw once again. It feels like five years ago all over again. And as the world has attacked me this past week (no joke - it's been a week when I've been assalted left and right) and I've not had time to stop and find support, the rawness of my heart has increased.
Last night it started to make sense to me. I knew I had been grieving. I knew the 10 days of sickness and lack of sleep were wearing on me. But last night I realized that, just as I was starting to come to terms with this miscarriage, I have been thrown back into the turmoil of grief.
And it's raining on the inside.
This time around, though, I'm striving to find joy in the midst of the stinging pain. I'm not going for happiness or giddiness, but for joy in knowing that Jesus, who suffered tremendously, came that his joy might be in us. In fact, the name of the blog was inspired by that verse.
Don't you just love when God gets ironic? I thought I was being so spiritual with the name of my blog; God was thinking of the challenge it would provide for me only months later: turning to my Source of joy in the rain.
Wednesday, December 3
help please
if you know that i've visited your site before, PLEASE comment here so i have your address. i can't find my links and i have no way to visit my favorite people! the sadness continues...
yes, i'm bitter
Part of the reason I was reluctant to blog in the first place is that I fully understand how to use paper and a pen. I can write just fine that way. I also understand how to print a picture and stick it in a shoe box. I'm quite adept at keeping records in journals and shoe boxes. Things that can't be found in a dictionary or grammar book (xml and ? and > and so on) scare the heck out of me.
And now they have cost me precious sleep, a minor tiff with my husband, and worst of all, my sanity. All I wanted was a red blog. I wanted it to fit with the season and I didn't need anything too fancy. I didn't want dancing reindeer. I only wanted a little red and an updated picture of Pink.
Instead I had all of my information erased. Ahhh, the beauty of computers.
Paper isn't smarter than I am. It doesn't burn up and turn to ash, destroying my work in seconds, simply because I didn't understand the encoding of the paper. It's a piece of frickin' tree. I can't believe I just typed frickin' and I'm putting it out there in cyberspace.
My computer, however, seems to relish is relative intelligence. And so my painstakingly developed blog is on the fritz. And I have no desire to post any of the good stuff I was waiting on, when my "paper" is so horribly ugly (and secretly laughing at me).
So when I have enough patience to not throw this keyboard through the window, I will try to change the look and publish something a little less bitter.
For now, I'll watch the computer-bashing scene from Office Space and pretend it's me hitting and kicking the heck out of the thing that stole my sleep, marital harmony (though only for a few minutes), and sanity.
Ha! When I went to post this message, it didn't like the way I originally wrote computer jargon. So what you read in the first paragraph was a modified version of the signs, symbols, and letters I originally wrote. It's still laughing at me!
And now they have cost me precious sleep, a minor tiff with my husband, and worst of all, my sanity. All I wanted was a red blog. I wanted it to fit with the season and I didn't need anything too fancy. I didn't want dancing reindeer. I only wanted a little red and an updated picture of Pink.
Instead I had all of my information erased. Ahhh, the beauty of computers.
Paper isn't smarter than I am. It doesn't burn up and turn to ash, destroying my work in seconds, simply because I didn't understand the encoding of the paper. It's a piece of frickin' tree. I can't believe I just typed frickin' and I'm putting it out there in cyberspace.
My computer, however, seems to relish is relative intelligence. And so my painstakingly developed blog is on the fritz. And I have no desire to post any of the good stuff I was waiting on, when my "paper" is so horribly ugly (and secretly laughing at me).
So when I have enough patience to not throw this keyboard through the window, I will try to change the look and publish something a little less bitter.
For now, I'll watch the computer-bashing scene from Office Space and pretend it's me hitting and kicking the heck out of the thing that stole my sleep, marital harmony (though only for a few minutes), and sanity.
Ha! When I went to post this message, it didn't like the way I originally wrote computer jargon. So what you read in the first paragraph was a modified version of the signs, symbols, and letters I originally wrote. It's still laughing at me!
Saturday, November 22
Friday, November 21
diva in training
These were take at SOMEONE ELSE'S photo shoot. She was supposed to behave herself in the background but she just couldn't resist taking advantage of a free moment. And truth be told, I couldn't resist the opportunity to capture her new hat that I am absolutely in love with.
.JPG)
.JPG)
i'm seeing a theme of girlyness here...
Pink to her doll: "Hey, BooBoo (her pet name for babies who hold a special place in her heart), say hello to ganma? Oh, yeah! Good dob, high five. BooBoo, it's ganma. Say hello to ganma."
Pink to the calculator, er, I mean, "phone": "Hello, ganma, I call you back. Ok. Bye ganma."
Pink to mama: "Mama, I call ganma on da phone. And mama, BooBoo call ganma on da phone."
Repeat several times.
Pink to the calculator, er, I mean, "phone": "Hello, ganma, I call you back. Ok. Bye ganma."
Pink to mama: "Mama, I call ganma on da phone. And mama, BooBoo call ganma on da phone."
Repeat several times.
Wednesday, November 19
what i can hear while she's "taking a nap"
"The mama rock her baby back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Yea!" (clap, clap, clap).
Guess I should have read her the book (Love You Forever) before her nap. Maybe she would be sleeping right now?
**edited to add: "mama, where are you?" Geez, kid, I know you're exhausted. Go to sleep!
Guess I should have read her the book (Love You Forever) before her nap. Maybe she would be sleeping right now?
**edited to add: "mama, where are you?" Geez, kid, I know you're exhausted. Go to sleep!
Thursday, November 13
and the winner is...
none of the above! In reference to this post, the art project got tossed immediately because, well, there was the book. And the nap. And my sewing machine on the dining room table where we would need to eat in only a few hours.
The sewing project was set aside because I needed a good excuse to have dinner on the couch. Fabric and the sewing machine stayed right where they were.
The book was winning 15 minutes into Pink's nap and it looked like I would make some serious progress and maybe even finish when, lo and behold, Beloved called. The power went out at work and he was on his way home. We chatted for about 15 minutes and when we got off the phone, I had just enough time to put away some toys and look like Suzy Homemaker.
So in the end, Beloved won. I guess that's the way it should be. And he even let me have a little extra time last night to finish the novel. What a keeper!
The sewing project was set aside because I needed a good excuse to have dinner on the couch. Fabric and the sewing machine stayed right where they were.
The book was winning 15 minutes into Pink's nap and it looked like I would make some serious progress and maybe even finish when, lo and behold, Beloved called. The power went out at work and he was on his way home. We chatted for about 15 minutes and when we got off the phone, I had just enough time to put away some toys and look like Suzy Homemaker.
So in the end, Beloved won. I guess that's the way it should be. And he even let me have a little extra time last night to finish the novel. What a keeper!
Tuesday, November 11
decisions, decisions
Oh, what to do? I have a day off this week (thank you Beloved and all other Veterans for that little gift of risking your lives) and I have so much to do! But it's not the to-do list kind of stuff. How can I choose between a captivating novel, a sewing project, an art project for Pink's room, and a nap? All this I am supposed to do in only two afternoon hours while Pink's in dreamland.
Hmmm, maybe I'll go for the nap.
Or the book.
But I've been desperate to finish this adorable apron.
Except that the art project has already been in the works (yet somehow remains incomplete) for months now.
Definitely the art project.
Oh, but the book!
Pray for me; I am a poor, directionless soul.
Hmmm, maybe I'll go for the nap.
Or the book.
But I've been desperate to finish this adorable apron.
Except that the art project has already been in the works (yet somehow remains incomplete) for months now.
Definitely the art project.
Oh, but the book!
Pray for me; I am a poor, directionless soul.
Monday, November 10
u know you have a girl when...
you hear the following (at the ripe old age of 2 years and one week):
Mama, I haf tea pardy? I tell dada I haf tea pardy wif dada?
Sure, sweetie. Would you like to send dada an invitation to have a tea party with you after he gets home from work?
Yeah!
The text message, a direct transcription of what was actually said, reads:
Dada Ima haf tea pardy. Come home. I want tea pardy wif dada. (enter enthusiastic singing, dancing, and twirling) I want tea pardy, I want tea pardy, I want tea pardy wif dada. You come home afta wook peaz?
Did I mention she was wearing a pink princess dress and a purple tutu at the time? Further confirmation. Not sure how I ended up with such a girly girl, but I wouldn't trade her for all the train-track buildin', truck-drivin', fire-fightin' tomboys in the world. She's teaching me how to add a little frill to my life. Thank you, Pink.
**update: less than two hours after this twirlin' text message, Pink saw a commercial for a toy car and toy truck. She shouted out, "Mama, I haf one of doze?" Then she ran her remote controlled spiderman car into the table and died laughing. I guess she is part tomboy afterall.
Mama, I haf tea pardy? I tell dada I haf tea pardy wif dada?
Sure, sweetie. Would you like to send dada an invitation to have a tea party with you after he gets home from work?
Yeah!
The text message, a direct transcription of what was actually said, reads:
Dada Ima haf tea pardy. Come home. I want tea pardy wif dada. (enter enthusiastic singing, dancing, and twirling) I want tea pardy, I want tea pardy, I want tea pardy wif dada. You come home afta wook peaz?
Did I mention she was wearing a pink princess dress and a purple tutu at the time? Further confirmation. Not sure how I ended up with such a girly girl, but I wouldn't trade her for all the train-track buildin', truck-drivin', fire-fightin' tomboys in the world. She's teaching me how to add a little frill to my life. Thank you, Pink.
**update: less than two hours after this twirlin' text message, Pink saw a commercial for a toy car and toy truck. She shouted out, "Mama, I haf one of doze?" Then she ran her remote controlled spiderman car into the table and died laughing. I guess she is part tomboy afterall.
Saturday, November 8
a must read
I have been doing a lot of thinking about my dreams lately. Today I read something that made me realize how many people in the world can't afford to have dreams. There is so little reason for hope, and the day-to-day demands of life keep them from indulging in such luxuries. But there is something that can be done to help.
Rocks In My Dryer has a post every Saturday called Saturday Linkage. I can't figure out how to link to that exact post, but I can get you close. Take a look here, and read the bloggers from the November 8 edition.
I could only get through three of these posts before I knew my heart would become used to the information. I'm going to go back to the others tomorrow to look at them with fresh eyes that will hurt from what I'm seeing. I hope you are moved to hurt for these people, too. Moved enough to do something.
Rocks In My Dryer has a post every Saturday called Saturday Linkage. I can't figure out how to link to that exact post, but I can get you close. Take a look here, and read the bloggers from the November 8 edition.
I could only get through three of these posts before I knew my heart would become used to the information. I'm going to go back to the others tomorrow to look at them with fresh eyes that will hurt from what I'm seeing. I hope you are moved to hurt for these people, too. Moved enough to do something.
Thursday, November 6
thoughts of loss and dreams
"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success acheived." -Helen Keler
I'm trying to remember this as my God-dream is on hold temporarily because we lost our little one. My vision will be cleared and ambition inspired, along with many other promises that God has for us. Aren't you glad we can rest in that?
I'm trying to remember this as my God-dream is on hold temporarily because we lost our little one. My vision will be cleared and ambition inspired, along with many other promises that God has for us. Aren't you glad we can rest in that?
Monday, November 3
walking through the valley, blindfolded
All sorts of songs and verses come to mind as I think about my current situation. Another pregnancy, but not another baby. At least not until heaven. And even more space between Pink and the sibling we wanted to be close in age to her. And an empty womb and an empty picture frame that was prepared and labeled with "fill with newborn picture on Father's Day, 2009." And aching hearts.
And yet as I stand on this road begrudgingly, I know that to embrace it is to embrace the road that God hand-picked for us to walk, allowing the sin of this world to take away our little one before we could hold him/her. I know that trusting in God and serving him, being "called according to his purpose," is the only way to be on the receiving end of his promise of working "all things together for good for those who love him." We are called, and we love him, and so we trust him. He, being God, is trustworthy. So we trust him when we ache. We trust him when we feel numb. We trust him when Pink acts up because mama and dada are so out of sorts. We trust him when we look around and realize that baby gear is not in our immediate future the way we thought it was. We trust him when it's hard to talk to people. We trust him when we are tired of making phone calls to deliver what was supposed to be good news. We trust him with our anger, our denial, our bitterness, our sorrow, our pain, our frustration, our confusion.
Through it all, we know that God is God. Truth is still truth. And the blindfold is there only for our own good, as God reveals his purposes and his desires little by little. And that has to be enough for now, until we get to heaven.
Incidentally, I'm thankful that he/she has a grandpa and three uncles to welcome him/her. They are together, and we wait to join them.
And yet as I stand on this road begrudgingly, I know that to embrace it is to embrace the road that God hand-picked for us to walk, allowing the sin of this world to take away our little one before we could hold him/her. I know that trusting in God and serving him, being "called according to his purpose," is the only way to be on the receiving end of his promise of working "all things together for good for those who love him." We are called, and we love him, and so we trust him. He, being God, is trustworthy. So we trust him when we ache. We trust him when we feel numb. We trust him when Pink acts up because mama and dada are so out of sorts. We trust him when we look around and realize that baby gear is not in our immediate future the way we thought it was. We trust him when it's hard to talk to people. We trust him when we are tired of making phone calls to deliver what was supposed to be good news. We trust him with our anger, our denial, our bitterness, our sorrow, our pain, our frustration, our confusion.
Through it all, we know that God is God. Truth is still truth. And the blindfold is there only for our own good, as God reveals his purposes and his desires little by little. And that has to be enough for now, until we get to heaven.
Incidentally, I'm thankful that he/she has a grandpa and three uncles to welcome him/her. They are together, and we wait to join them.
Tuesday, October 28
cheap, hot date night
Mother-in-law, beware. You are welcome to read this post. But if you do read further, I'd rather not hear about it. Please. Everyone else, read on.Pink was in bed, an old favorite movie was cued, popcorn was popped, and we looked at each other and realized we missed each other. We wanted a date night. We needed some time to connect. And so we did the only thing we could think of at the time: talk.
Yes, that's right, we talked. We grabbed Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti, and we opened to the homework for the chapter on the bedroom (ooh la la). The questions (that you each ask each other) are as follows:
1. One thing I really love about our (lovin) life is:
2. I really love it when you:
3. One thing I would love to try is: (giggling is perfectly acceptable here, ladies & gents)
4. One boundary that we could agree on that might protect our marriage is:
Then you are prompted to plan a 24-hour escape. We thought we couldn't afford a night at a hotel, but in thinking through it, we realized we had a little b-day money still saved up and we had a little extra income that was due soon. Put together, we could pull it off.
The openness of our answers mixed with the excitement and passion of planning a long-awaited getaway were so hot that they didn't just work for us, they worked for us (wink). And then we watched our movie.
Store-brand, microwave popcorn had never tasted so good. And by the way, to prove that it worked for both of us, it was Beloved who suggested that I put this up on my "blog thing."
Want to see more ideas that have worked? Visit the newest installment of Works for me Wednesdays over at Rocks In My Dryer.
also tagged twice (thanks a ton, jane)
As a twisted form of payback (after all, tagging is supposed to be unidirectional, and the fact that I tagged my dear friend, Jane, meant that I had ALREADY been tagged myself), Jane has tagged me with this:
10 years ago I...
1. moved to San Diego, transferring here as a junior at State. It would be my home for the next six years.
2. changed my major, yet again, to Spanish. That was the last change, though.
3. had completely different friends except for my best friend from high school who is still my best friend from high school (hi Lis)
4. was even more opinionated and stubborn than I am now.
5. had the energy to be everywhere at once, doing as much as I could possibly fit into my schedule. Fortunately I've learned that's not the best way to be good at anything.
Things on my to-do list (for tomorrow):
I'm not thinking about tomorrow. For today, I am resting and taking care of my body after a little bit of trauma recently, I am cutting out paper pumpkins and leaves to decorate for my toddler's b-day party, I am enjoying the fact that Pink is in daycare right now and her friends are exhausting themselves with entertaining her (thanks, guys), I'm printing out new pictures for the hallway, I'm reading Great Expectations to relate to my freshmen English students, and I'm coping with my life the way is has turned out (sounds pessimistic but it's fitting). And I'm going to limit myself to that. Good for me (see #5 above).
Things I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Give it away. I would so love to be the person who knocks on a front door, hands over an envelope with lots of cash inside, and says, "God bless" before anonymously walking away. That happened to us and it still brings a lump to my throat.
2. Buy a house and let someone live in our little condo for free. I know some people who could really use a break in their living situation. That would make me happy.
3. Make sure the house I bought had a really big yard with a pool.
4. Attend a conference I feel led to attend that is out of our budget.
5. Quit my job. I love teaching, but I love mommying and wifing more. (I don't need a lesson in the present progressive, thanks for asking).
6. Take a long vacation. Or ten.
Places I have lived
1. Pasadena, California, where I was sure I would be the Rose Queen until we moved when I was in high school. Two years before I could try out. Not that I'm holding on, or anything.
2. Colfax, California. Where, you ask? In the boonies, in the mountains, above Sacramento.
3. Many parts of San Diego, California
Jobs I've had:
1. Tutor
2. Waitress at a small-town 50s diner. With one of those hats like In-n-Out. And my friends still came in to talk to me at work, (gasp) associating themselves with me.
3. Waitress at Baker's Square.
4. Waitress at a nice steakhouse
5. Science teacher for an after-school science program
6. Waitress at a hot-spot/meat-market (as in people were meat, not actual slabs of beef) brewery/restaurant that was really loud but paid well
7. Barista at Starbucks (still miss the free coffee)
8. College admissions advocate
9. High School Teacher (this one is by far the best)
**edited to include: receptionist for three different offices, bookkeeper, and assistant to a senior accountant
How long have I been of-age? Geez!
Since there aren't many people on my list who have not just been tagged already (or just had a baby), I'm limiting my tag to two people: Ella's mommy and girlymama
10 years ago I...
1. moved to San Diego, transferring here as a junior at State. It would be my home for the next six years.
2. changed my major, yet again, to Spanish. That was the last change, though.
3. had completely different friends except for my best friend from high school who is still my best friend from high school (hi Lis)
4. was even more opinionated and stubborn than I am now.
5. had the energy to be everywhere at once, doing as much as I could possibly fit into my schedule. Fortunately I've learned that's not the best way to be good at anything.
Things on my to-do list (for tomorrow):
I'm not thinking about tomorrow. For today, I am resting and taking care of my body after a little bit of trauma recently, I am cutting out paper pumpkins and leaves to decorate for my toddler's b-day party, I am enjoying the fact that Pink is in daycare right now and her friends are exhausting themselves with entertaining her (thanks, guys), I'm printing out new pictures for the hallway, I'm reading Great Expectations to relate to my freshmen English students, and I'm coping with my life the way is has turned out (sounds pessimistic but it's fitting). And I'm going to limit myself to that. Good for me (see #5 above).
Things I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Give it away. I would so love to be the person who knocks on a front door, hands over an envelope with lots of cash inside, and says, "God bless" before anonymously walking away. That happened to us and it still brings a lump to my throat.
2. Buy a house and let someone live in our little condo for free. I know some people who could really use a break in their living situation. That would make me happy.
3. Make sure the house I bought had a really big yard with a pool.
4. Attend a conference I feel led to attend that is out of our budget.
5. Quit my job. I love teaching, but I love mommying and wifing more. (I don't need a lesson in the present progressive, thanks for asking).
6. Take a long vacation. Or ten.
Places I have lived
1. Pasadena, California, where I was sure I would be the Rose Queen until we moved when I was in high school. Two years before I could try out. Not that I'm holding on, or anything.
2. Colfax, California. Where, you ask? In the boonies, in the mountains, above Sacramento.
3. Many parts of San Diego, California
Jobs I've had:
1. Tutor
2. Waitress at a small-town 50s diner. With one of those hats like In-n-Out. And my friends still came in to talk to me at work, (gasp) associating themselves with me.
3. Waitress at Baker's Square.
4. Waitress at a nice steakhouse
5. Science teacher for an after-school science program
6. Waitress at a hot-spot/meat-market (as in people were meat, not actual slabs of beef) brewery/restaurant that was really loud but paid well
7. Barista at Starbucks (still miss the free coffee)
8. College admissions advocate
9. High School Teacher (this one is by far the best)
**edited to include: receptionist for three different offices, bookkeeper, and assistant to a senior accountant
How long have I been of-age? Geez!
Since there aren't many people on my list who have not just been tagged already (or just had a baby), I'm limiting my tag to two people: Ella's mommy and girlymama
Thursday, October 23
I've been tagged
My friend Kelli tagged me in her blog and now I'm supposed to write about 10 things my husband loves. So here goes:
10) Pats. Not my brother (though he's pretty high on the list, too), but the touch. His mom patted the heck out of him when we was young and that's a top way he feels loved.
9) All tractors that are green and yellow.
8) Looking up random stuff on You Tube for hours on end.
7) Taking care of things around the house. He's Mr. Fix-it.
6) Quiet, peaceful dinners. I didn't know this about him until someone little turned our dinners into a place for mayhem.
5) Play time with things that move (poor guy sold all his things that go vroom so he doesn't get to take advantage of this very often anymore)
4) Food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Extravagant or plain, spicy or bland, he doesn't care. As long as it's edible.
3) Pink (the girl, not so much the color, unless it's on her or on me)
2) Me
And the number one thing he loves...
1) Getting reactions out of me. At times this might move down to number 3, but on most days, this is at least tied with, if not ahead of, his love for his girls. Which makes me laugh while it drives me crazy.
And now I'm tagging Jane, Dilenna, and Miranda. You're it!
10) Pats. Not my brother (though he's pretty high on the list, too), but the touch. His mom patted the heck out of him when we was young and that's a top way he feels loved.
9) All tractors that are green and yellow.
8) Looking up random stuff on You Tube for hours on end.
7) Taking care of things around the house. He's Mr. Fix-it.
6) Quiet, peaceful dinners. I didn't know this about him until someone little turned our dinners into a place for mayhem.
5) Play time with things that move (poor guy sold all his things that go vroom so he doesn't get to take advantage of this very often anymore)
4) Food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Extravagant or plain, spicy or bland, he doesn't care. As long as it's edible.
3) Pink (the girl, not so much the color, unless it's on her or on me)
2) Me
And the number one thing he loves...
1) Getting reactions out of me. At times this might move down to number 3, but on most days, this is at least tied with, if not ahead of, his love for his girls. Which makes me laugh while it drives me crazy.
And now I'm tagging Jane, Dilenna, and Miranda. You're it!
Wednesday, October 15
Tuesday, October 14
crock pot monday
My week is front-loaded. If I can make it to Wednesday, I know that all will be well with the world. The problem is Sunday night through Tuesday night. That 48 hour period of working wifehood/motherhood/friend/small group email person/volunteer/etc/etc/etc tests my multi-tasking abilities. And my patience. Just ask Beloved.
But since returning to work last week after a nice break, I've implemented a new survival strategy: crock pot Mondays. In the busyness of cleaning up dinner on Sunday, I hardly notice the pan of meat & onions that are browning. Toss that in the crock pot with a few other items, wash ONE extra pan on Sunday night, stick dinner in the fridge, and get it started the next morning before work. Now, I've long been a fan of crock pot dinners and I love coming home to the aroma-filled house that awaits me. But there's something about starting my week this way that keeps me going through the rest of that 48-hour marathon. Is your week loaded at the end of the week? Try a mid-week crock pot ritual. Another benefit: no sandwich artistry on Tuesday morning; everyone gets a tupperware of leftover goodness.
Oh, and getting Beloved to take over dinner on Tuesdays helps, too. But really, crock pot Monday works for me. Want to see other great ideas for all kinds of things? Check out Works for me Wednesdays at Rocks In My Dryer.
Have you seen my voice?
Do you remember when you were 12 and you knew that you knew who you really were? Why does any 12 year old girl think she knows everything about herself? And then you hit 18 and someone gave you a piece of paper with official words about studying for four years or something, you spent one summer being a graduate, and you tried playing the "KIT" game with friends left and right; then you knew that you had finally discovered yourself. That 12 year old? She obviously didn't know what she was talking about. But YOU did because you were, after all, 18. And all 18 year olds know everything. Everyone knows that.
Then you hit your mid-twenties and realized you knew nothing. If you're really lucky, you've already passed that oh-so-glorious birthday (30) in which you realize time really does pass by and you can start to understand who you were created to be. Things start to come into focus. I suppose that the lenses of life continue to focus as we age, and that we truly do know more and more about who we are as we age. I can only imagine how foolish this 31 year-old will seem to 50 year-old me one day.
In blogging years (the formula is similar to the one used to calculate doggie years, but way to complicated for me to explain, so just trust me), I'm around 12. What does that mean? I'm struggling with my blogity voice! Who am I? In blog terms, am I a wife first or a mom first? Or just a woman first? Or a working mom first? Do I focus on pics of Pink to share with family members? Do I drone on about my day-to-day life or put forth philosophical ideals (you'd better hope it's not the latter)? See my dilemma? So for all of you who have figured out your bloggity voice, be patient with the little 12 year olds around blogosphere who are still slouching with braces, bangs bigger than their head, pegged pant legs, and sleeves that won't stay rolled up. I'll grow up soon enough.
Then you hit your mid-twenties and realized you knew nothing. If you're really lucky, you've already passed that oh-so-glorious birthday (30) in which you realize time really does pass by and you can start to understand who you were created to be. Things start to come into focus. I suppose that the lenses of life continue to focus as we age, and that we truly do know more and more about who we are as we age. I can only imagine how foolish this 31 year-old will seem to 50 year-old me one day.
In blogging years (the formula is similar to the one used to calculate doggie years, but way to complicated for me to explain, so just trust me), I'm around 12. What does that mean? I'm struggling with my blogity voice! Who am I? In blog terms, am I a wife first or a mom first? Or just a woman first? Or a working mom first? Do I focus on pics of Pink to share with family members? Do I drone on about my day-to-day life or put forth philosophical ideals (you'd better hope it's not the latter)? See my dilemma? So for all of you who have figured out your bloggity voice, be patient with the little 12 year olds around blogosphere who are still slouching with braces, bangs bigger than their head, pegged pant legs, and sleeves that won't stay rolled up. I'll grow up soon enough.
Thursday, October 9
get thee to nineveh
I mentioned already that I'm pursuing a quiet God-dream that I have and that I'm excited to finally be answering this call. I also mentioned something along the lines of pursuing our dreams with reckless abandon. Yeah. That was all well and good until I looked up some details about one little experience I will have to go through.
"I'll fail. Everyone will think I'm ridiculous. I'll hear things like 'What's she doing here?' and 'Poor soul doesn't even know she's misguided.' I will be a laughing stock. Worse (in the case of what I will be doing) I'll bore everyone to death. My lullaby voice which silences my baby, husband, and some of my students into steady snores will surely hypnotize a few of the women I'll be with. I can't go. I can't do it. I can't." Some reckless abandon, huh?
But then I told Beloved about it and he reminded me of a revelation we had recently: if we keep ignoring God's call in one particular area he's been speaking in, we might land in a whale only to be spit up on the shore of the place he was telling us to go in the first place. So we named our calling and ministry Nineveh, and we answered the call.
When I told him recently that I was really scared of this one thing I have to do because my dream is so important to me, he said eloquently, as only he could, "Babe, I don't want to have to pluck you out of the belly of a whale just because you wouldn't listen to God. Now, GO TO NINEVEH!"
Oh, babe, that's why I love you. That's why I married you. Thanks.
"I'll fail. Everyone will think I'm ridiculous. I'll hear things like 'What's she doing here?' and 'Poor soul doesn't even know she's misguided.' I will be a laughing stock. Worse (in the case of what I will be doing) I'll bore everyone to death. My lullaby voice which silences my baby, husband, and some of my students into steady snores will surely hypnotize a few of the women I'll be with. I can't go. I can't do it. I can't." Some reckless abandon, huh?
But then I told Beloved about it and he reminded me of a revelation we had recently: if we keep ignoring God's call in one particular area he's been speaking in, we might land in a whale only to be spit up on the shore of the place he was telling us to go in the first place. So we named our calling and ministry Nineveh, and we answered the call.
When I told him recently that I was really scared of this one thing I have to do because my dream is so important to me, he said eloquently, as only he could, "Babe, I don't want to have to pluck you out of the belly of a whale just because you wouldn't listen to God. Now, GO TO NINEVEH!"
Oh, babe, that's why I love you. That's why I married you. Thanks.
Tuesday, October 7
the great debacle, er, debate
(SCENE: man facing his listener, leaning forward slightly with one arm extended)
"Let me just start by... avoiding the question."
This was Beloved's synopsis of the debates tonight. Profound, if you ask me.
"Let me just start by... avoiding the question."
This was Beloved's synopsis of the debates tonight. Profound, if you ask me.
Dyin' inside
I was driving Pink home yesterday and reached back to pat her leg. When I stopped she said, "More mama. More weg." Ohhhh, my heart! But that wasn't what made me die.
The song "How Sweet It Is" by Michael Buble came on (one of our favs) and I started bobbing my head as any good white woman with a moderate amount of rhythm should do. Pink started bobbing hers with mine. Now, this has happened before, but each time I ruined it by making a fuss. So, older and wiser than I used to be (last week), I did nothing. I didn't sing along; I didn't stop what I was doing; I didn't look at her directly. Just kept on bobbin'. And she did, too. Bobbin' that little blonde head, almost to the beat but not quite, lookin' around all cool-like, while it took everything in me to not burst out laughing. Which is why I was dyin' inside.
The song "How Sweet It Is" by Michael Buble came on (one of our favs) and I started bobbing my head as any good white woman with a moderate amount of rhythm should do. Pink started bobbing hers with mine. Now, this has happened before, but each time I ruined it by making a fuss. So, older and wiser than I used to be (last week), I did nothing. I didn't sing along; I didn't stop what I was doing; I didn't look at her directly. Just kept on bobbin'. And she did, too. Bobbin' that little blonde head, almost to the beat but not quite, lookin' around all cool-like, while it took everything in me to not burst out laughing. Which is why I was dyin' inside.
Friday, October 3
a little somthing left behind
My sister-in-law! loves! EXCLAMATION POINTS! So much that she should marry! them! Truly! She's obsessed! And that is just fine! Except that! I'm! a! chameleon! Which means that I! have blended in! with her use! of exclamation points! And if I could get my computer! to accommodate! me! all these enthusiastic! exclamation points! would have little circles! where the dots go!
These little circly! exclamation! points! are everywhere in my life! now! As in the box on my calendar! that reads, "Pink's Party Day!" or "Couples Night Out!" or "Female Dr. Visit for mama!" ok, not the last one! But the others are honest-to-goodness!cross-my-heart!100% true! Bless her sweet, fun heart! Her exclamation points have even taken! over! my thoughts! And I for one! believe in something! called a declarative! sentence! You know the kind?! with a period! at the end!
We miss you, Joy, we really do! But don't worry! A piece of you! remains! everytime! I! think! in these! crazy! exclamation! points! Ding! Ding!
These little circly! exclamation! points! are everywhere in my life! now! As in the box on my calendar! that reads, "Pink's Party Day!" or "Couples Night Out!" or "Female Dr. Visit for mama!" ok, not the last one! But the others are honest-to-goodness!cross-my-heart!100% true! Bless her sweet, fun heart! Her exclamation points have even taken! over! my thoughts! And I for one! believe in something! called a declarative! sentence! You know the kind?! with a period! at the end!
We miss you, Joy, we really do! But don't worry! A piece of you! remains! everytime! I! think! in these! crazy! exclamation! points! Ding! Ding!
Thursday, October 2
Fall is here
In honor of the first day of October (Sept 22/21 is always too hot in SD to recognize it as fall), Beloved came home yesterday to a house with jack-o-lantern candles, pumpkin spice candles, fall leaves (from Michael's of course; where in SD would I get fall leaves?), and every fall decoration I could drag out of the closet. We had cranberries and almonds in our salad. We had apple crisp compliments of Pink's Sunday School project. And it was nice and cool. We made homemade applesauce, peanut butter popcorn, and pulled the couch over to the computer desk to cuddle up and catch up on The Office.
Yes, fall is good. With the air conditioner running, seeing as how it was 97 degrees at our house yesterday. Ahhhh, gotta love the change of seasons.
Yes, fall is good. With the air conditioner running, seeing as how it was 97 degrees at our house yesterday. Ahhhh, gotta love the change of seasons.
Dreams
We all have them. Some are pipe dreams. Growing up in LA in the 80s, the daughter of a die-hard Lakers fan, I just knew that I would someday be a Laker girl. I'm pretty sure that the squad wouldn't have been able to find a spot for me if I had paid them a whole lot of money. My adult version of the pipe dream? A one acre lot it the city with a 2000 square foot Tuscan, no Craftsman, no Cape Cod, no Bungalow, no Spanish style home with a huge pool and a gourmet kitchen with two stoves and two ovens. Not that I've been thinking about it, or anything. And of course we all have those nonsensical nighttime dreams. But I've never quite figured out the significance of my first-quarter-of-second-grade-best-friend showing up at my high school while I'm there with my husband and we're all doing the limbo for my boss' birthday. Hmmm...
But then there are those quiet dreams. The ones we almost want to ignore. The ones that whisper to us from the depths of our soul. We talk about God's promise to give us the desires of our hearts. But we think it's the house. Wrong! Not that the house is a bad thing. Did you hear that, God? A house like that is what Martha might call "a good thing." Anyway, I'm talking about dreams like: the ministry you want to work with. The kind of people you'd like to disciple. The lessons you want to teach your children. The marriage building you want to do with your husband. The people you want to reach.
Those aren't an accident. They aren't pipe dreams. They're bigger, more life-changing, and scarier. Our heart would ache if we pursued and failed. But the great thing about quiet God-dreams is that our Creator placed them there. He longs to see them fulfilled. Not that everything will be peachy, but our God wants to see that we have the chance to get on that path. He wants our dreams to come true because he wants to use us. I'm starting to walk in mine right now, volunteering for a ministry that has been near to my heart, quietly whispering for some time. And it's so much better than a house. With a pool. And my kitchen. I may never get my house, but I will be used by God and I will fulfill the purpose for which I was created by doing the good works he has set aside for me. So if you haven't started already, go chase your quiet dreams! I'm sure many a closed door awaits us, and maybe some slammed doors. But, if these dreams were put there by One who wants to see them come true, what do we have to do but to chase them with wild abandon?
But before you do, I'm curious: do you have any quiet God-dreams? Are you pursuing them? Are you in the waiting period? Are you living them out daily? I'd love to hear your stories and be encouraged by you.
But then there are those quiet dreams. The ones we almost want to ignore. The ones that whisper to us from the depths of our soul. We talk about God's promise to give us the desires of our hearts. But we think it's the house. Wrong! Not that the house is a bad thing. Did you hear that, God? A house like that is what Martha might call "a good thing." Anyway, I'm talking about dreams like: the ministry you want to work with. The kind of people you'd like to disciple. The lessons you want to teach your children. The marriage building you want to do with your husband. The people you want to reach.
Those aren't an accident. They aren't pipe dreams. They're bigger, more life-changing, and scarier. Our heart would ache if we pursued and failed. But the great thing about quiet God-dreams is that our Creator placed them there. He longs to see them fulfilled. Not that everything will be peachy, but our God wants to see that we have the chance to get on that path. He wants our dreams to come true because he wants to use us. I'm starting to walk in mine right now, volunteering for a ministry that has been near to my heart, quietly whispering for some time. And it's so much better than a house. With a pool. And my kitchen. I may never get my house, but I will be used by God and I will fulfill the purpose for which I was created by doing the good works he has set aside for me. So if you haven't started already, go chase your quiet dreams! I'm sure many a closed door awaits us, and maybe some slammed doors. But, if these dreams were put there by One who wants to see them come true, what do we have to do but to chase them with wild abandon?
But before you do, I'm curious: do you have any quiet God-dreams? Are you pursuing them? Are you in the waiting period? Are you living them out daily? I'd love to hear your stories and be encouraged by you.
Wednesday, October 1
Tuesday, September 30
Container consolidation
I have a very nice pantry compliments of the Container Store. I'm not complaining. Really. But in my very nice pantry I have very deep shelves which make it nearly impossible to have less than three bags of sugar, nineteen cans of soup, and five packages of Craisins I don't know about, hiding in the darkness behind the olive oil.So I headed to Tar-jay for some Rubbermaid containers that fit perfectly inside. I have three: one for baking products, one for oils/vinegars/other jars, and one for all that misc stuff like honey and cocoa powder. Now not only do I keep better track of what's in my pantry, but I can pull out the container and easily access things in the back. No more moving half the contents of a shelf onto the counter, only to reach a packet of yeast. It's the poor woman's version of custom cabinets with pull out drawers (yes, I know that all drawers are pull out drawers), but it works for me!
By the way, this works great for the linen closet, bathroom, or any other place you store small items.Want more ideas on kitchen organization? Visit Shannon's newest installment at Rocks In My Dryer
Surprise!
We managed to pull off a surprise visit to see Grandpa, Uncle PatPat, and An Liss in Phoenix last weekend. It was a fun and much-need trip. Pink talked about going to see them all week, saying things like "see. papa. house. phoenix. show papa. peek-a-boo" and "see patpat an liss house phoenix."
She got to ride on (and be terrified of) grandpa's tractor. I mean, John Deere 1941 Model B tractor (sorry, babe). Technically, Pink was scared of the engine. In that cluttered barn the thing wasn't going anywhere. And she did really fun things with grandpa, too, like feeding the birds in the morning.
Then we headed to Pat & Liz's house. This very humble staircase inspried Pink to recite one of her fav lines from The Little Engine that Could: up, up, up, faster, faster, Faster, FASTER!
patpat we missed you!
and Liss, too!
Sample after sample of yummy gelato
and a Pink-sized table
We even got to play at the Tempe Town Lake water park, ahem,
wapak:
A good time was had by all
She got to ride on (and be terrified of) grandpa's tractor. I mean, John Deere 1941 Model B tractor (sorry, babe). Technically, Pink was scared of the engine. In that cluttered barn the thing wasn't going anywhere. And she did really fun things with grandpa, too, like feeding the birds in the morning.
Then we headed to Pat & Liz's house. This very humble staircase inspried Pink to recite one of her fav lines from The Little Engine that Could: up, up, up, faster, faster, Faster, FASTER!
patpat we missed you!
and Liss, too!
Sample after sample of yummy gelato
and a Pink-sized table
We even got to play at the Tempe Town Lake water park, ahem,
wapak:
A good time was had by all
Saturday, September 27
Fall cleaning
If you know me well, you know that cleaning is not my favorite thing. I'm decent at it; my problem is that I don't like to make it a priority in life and I don't get around to it quite at often as I should. I've been getting much better at it, but there was still much to be desired until I found this new book on cleaning that I LOVE (check out Rocks In My Dryer and look under Saturday linkage). I read the teaser pages and was hooked. I waited until my school break came around and set about fall cleaning. So far, so good. The darn thing really did teach me how to clean better; imagine! But the most helpful part was the approach. It's broken down into ten days, with tips on how to get through one project completely before commencing another. This was my biggest problem with spring cleaning in the past. This book gave me permission to let my bedroom continue to be a disorganized mess while I was tackling something else. And there are lists for daily, weekly, and monthly cleaning as well. Perhaps the best part is that cleaning is treated as something ongoing, which makes me feel like I'm not a failure if my house isn't perfect all the time; it's not going to be!
Here are some before pics. I haven't taken any after shots yet, since I'm only about half-way done. I'll get those up in about a week or so. If you have any room for growth in the area of cleaning, check out the book! It's only $7 online.
I think the computer used to be on this desk...
I know your counter fills up, too!
No, we do not think the top of the dresser is an ideal storage unit for DVD players not in use, old t-shirts, pictures, safety pins, and other misc. items. It's just right there, so easy!
Here are some before pics. I haven't taken any after shots yet, since I'm only about half-way done. I'll get those up in about a week or so. If you have any room for growth in the area of cleaning, check out the book! It's only $7 online.
I think the computer used to be on this desk...
I know your counter fills up, too!
No, we do not think the top of the dresser is an ideal storage unit for DVD players not in use, old t-shirts, pictures, safety pins, and other misc. items. It's just right there, so easy!
Friday, September 26
Wordless... Friday?
Like everything else in my life, this post is a day late and a dollar short. Next time I'll post my Wordless Wednesday picture on... oh... Wednesday, maybe?
Camping:
Camping:
Wednesday, September 24
Calling all homemakers
How in the WORLD do I get urine out of a leather chair? Fortunately I conditioned it recently, but it's pretty old, so Pink's handiwork soaked right in. Any ideas?
Ahhh, the joys of potty training continue...
Ahhh, the joys of potty training continue...
Tuesday, September 23
Double digits, here I come!
I have a counter! Check it out in all it's pathetically low glory. So I realize that it's a little sad right now, but eventually, in like, 10 years, it should be a respectable number. Maybe sooner? And I sort of like the idea of making progress slowly; it's refreshing.
Monday, September 22
Adios, adieu
Saying goodbye is so hard! We've been without my bro and sis-in-law for almost two months, and without beloved's sis and bro-in-law (and our only nephew) for almost a month. And we finally feel it. Really feel it. When we want to call them and have dinner. When we want to share things. When they send us texts about their new lives. We miss having them here, at home. With us. Together.
To commemorate their joy over their new chapter in life (and ours on their behalf), some goodbye pics:
To commemorate their joy over their new chapter in life (and ours on their behalf), some goodbye pics:
Saturday, September 20
Upon changing a dirty diaper:
"See my potty."
"OK, here it is"
"Mama, messy."
"Yes, munckin, it's messy"
"See my why cacka in dere, mama! (I see my white cracker in there, mama)"
Nice one, Pink.
"OK, here it is"
"Mama, messy."
"Yes, munckin, it's messy"
"See my why cacka in dere, mama! (I see my white cracker in there, mama)"
Nice one, Pink.
Friday, September 19
No ER visit, at least.
Well, at least not yet. But I did wake up waaay to early (8:00) considering the fact that I got three hours of sleep two nights ago. But who's complaining? Not me, no way! OK, so I brought Pink in bed with me, where I heard "Hi mama" at least a dozen times in two minutes, in between head bonks and an almost-broken nose. Eventually my eyes stayed open and focused. She climbed down off the bed, walked away, and came back bleeding. Now, this was an honest-to-goodness injury, but nothing to even call the doctor about. She was FINE. Really. I've learned this week, though (thank you, skinned knee for the education) that my girl does not like blood. Maybe because her mommy gets nauseaus at the mere thought of it. And her daddy runs the other direction, screaming like a little girl. In fact, he sounds a little like his little girl (alright, that's a little dramatic; he only runs and screams like a man). Ah, I digress. She doesn't like blood and she means business. This is a problem when it's coming quite fevrently from a place on her body that she can put up nice and close to her face, such as, say, her wrist. It goes something like this: she takes a better look at this owie and then screams, "mama, owie, kiss it, make it better, MAMA!!!" I guide her wrist away from her face, apply pressure (don't I sound official, like a mommy-nurse?), try not to think about the blood gathering on the tissue, and she starts to calm down a little. Until she goes in for a good look again. Repeat the above several times.
Finally, I get her to the sink to clean it out and apply (gasp!) a bandaid (mean mama). I put one on my wrist, too, and got her to at least stop screaming for a while. I suggest we get our hands on whipped cream (mama's redemption) for breakfast and she enthusiastically agrees "yes, mama, whi keen ssstabcks." Bet you didn't know that whipped cream has a very high nutritional value! When it calms down 2 year old girls enough that both girl and mommy can eat breakfast, it's downright superfood quality! See? nutritional value. Again, I digress. We manage to get dressed, an enormous effort when one's wrist is rendered unbendable and untouchable (maybe she's dramatic, too?). And what awaits us at the bottom of the stairs? A present from Keiko's (our dog) sick tummy. All over. Next to the toys. In the middle of the pathway through the living room. THANK YOU Keiko's tummy, thank you! And good, on-top-of-it mommy and homemaker that I am, I tip-toed my way toward the door, grabbed my purse, and headed for Starbucks to get my crying-once-again girl some whipped cream. And coffee for mama.
Incidentally, Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back! Yes!!! I miss fall; in San Diego I have to get pretty creative to make it feel like fall when it's 90 degrees outside. Dye my hair dark red. Burn pumpkin spice candles. And drink these delicious lattes of the gods! If you dare to be one of those "Starbucks" people, order it with one less pump of syrup than normal, and have them add one pump of chai (thanks for this tip, AnLiss). Just don't, for the love of Pete, skip the whipped cream. Nutitional value for mama, too. Oh, yummy goodness!
Finally, I get her to the sink to clean it out and apply (gasp!) a bandaid (mean mama). I put one on my wrist, too, and got her to at least stop screaming for a while. I suggest we get our hands on whipped cream (mama's redemption) for breakfast and she enthusiastically agrees "yes, mama, whi keen ssstabcks." Bet you didn't know that whipped cream has a very high nutritional value! When it calms down 2 year old girls enough that both girl and mommy can eat breakfast, it's downright superfood quality! See? nutritional value. Again, I digress. We manage to get dressed, an enormous effort when one's wrist is rendered unbendable and untouchable (maybe she's dramatic, too?). And what awaits us at the bottom of the stairs? A present from Keiko's (our dog) sick tummy. All over. Next to the toys. In the middle of the pathway through the living room. THANK YOU Keiko's tummy, thank you! And good, on-top-of-it mommy and homemaker that I am, I tip-toed my way toward the door, grabbed my purse, and headed for Starbucks to get my crying-once-again girl some whipped cream. And coffee for mama.
Incidentally, Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back! Yes!!! I miss fall; in San Diego I have to get pretty creative to make it feel like fall when it's 90 degrees outside. Dye my hair dark red. Burn pumpkin spice candles. And drink these delicious lattes of the gods! If you dare to be one of those "Starbucks" people, order it with one less pump of syrup than normal, and have them add one pump of chai (thanks for this tip, AnLiss). Just don't, for the love of Pete, skip the whipped cream. Nutitional value for mama, too. Oh, yummy goodness!
Monday, September 15
To my girl:
Pink, my source of joy, you are BEAUTIFUL! Thank you for making my life so much richer.
I love how you hold up your pinkie all the time (you're a fourth-generation pinkie girl).
Yesterday you waded through really cold, waterfall water, in the middle of a mini-rapid, all barefoot and pant-less and tough and burly, and you pranced. Your boy-through-and-through cousin, K, was cold (in his defense, the water really was cold), but you girly-girled your way through with your daddy and found a caterpillar on the other side of the creek. With your pinkie up. And your bouncing, blonde curls lit up by the sun filtering through the trees. And your pretty feet tromping over the river rocks. And your chubby, dainty (seems like a contradiction in terms but you manage somehow) hands pointing to all the amazing things you might have missed if you sat on the warm edge of the creek. And your sweet, graceful smile making my heart full. God made you a girl because he knew you'd make the perfect girl.
Today you learned to sing your second song. Sort of. You sing "fee mine mice, fee mine mice, see how run, see how run" already. When I sang "Jesus Loves Me" to you today, you chimed in with "Abby" every time I got to the "me" part, and you know what? You hit the right notes! You aren't two yet and you can sing on-key! I'm still working on that one and I have 29 years on you. :) And to give credit where credit is due, daddy's the one who changed the words of the song to include your name. Oh, and you did the "da-da-da-da-da! mamu, mamu" for the first time today. You usually skip over the beat, straight to the shamu part.
You and I have this game of sorts where I ask if you're my (fill in the blank), and you answer "yes". We go through a rather long list of pink, Abby, Abigail, munchkin, pumpkin, girl, baby, and sweet pea. Not long ago I got to the end and realized that you had been keeping track when you said, "my feet pea." I must have forgotten it! Now I go through the list and intentionally miss sweet pea so that I can hear your precious little feminine voice ask me, "my feet pea." My heart melts every time!
You don't just talk. You have conversations. With anyone who will listen. Including the wall, your crib, the bear, your whale, or Keiko. It's adorable. And you tell them all about your owie and everyone else's owie, attributing all said owies to the wapak (water park).
When you want to be held you say, in your most pathetic, irresistable voice, "Mama, hoju" (read: hoe-jew). Sometimes you even throw your name on the end just for kicks.
You go to sleep like it's nothin' and put yourself to sleep (in the middle of a room sometimes) if we take too long. Can you please keep this up until, say, college?
You are a great hugger!
You are a one-of-a-kind, made for a king, created for a purpose, little girl and I can't wait to see what you become in the name of the One who created you. I love you, my "feet pea".
I love how you hold up your pinkie all the time (you're a fourth-generation pinkie girl).
Yesterday you waded through really cold, waterfall water, in the middle of a mini-rapid, all barefoot and pant-less and tough and burly, and you pranced. Your boy-through-and-through cousin, K, was cold (in his defense, the water really was cold), but you girly-girled your way through with your daddy and found a caterpillar on the other side of the creek. With your pinkie up. And your bouncing, blonde curls lit up by the sun filtering through the trees. And your pretty feet tromping over the river rocks. And your chubby, dainty (seems like a contradiction in terms but you manage somehow) hands pointing to all the amazing things you might have missed if you sat on the warm edge of the creek. And your sweet, graceful smile making my heart full. God made you a girl because he knew you'd make the perfect girl.
Today you learned to sing your second song. Sort of. You sing "fee mine mice, fee mine mice, see how run, see how run" already. When I sang "Jesus Loves Me" to you today, you chimed in with "Abby" every time I got to the "me" part, and you know what? You hit the right notes! You aren't two yet and you can sing on-key! I'm still working on that one and I have 29 years on you. :) And to give credit where credit is due, daddy's the one who changed the words of the song to include your name. Oh, and you did the "da-da-da-da-da! mamu, mamu" for the first time today. You usually skip over the beat, straight to the shamu part.
You and I have this game of sorts where I ask if you're my (fill in the blank), and you answer "yes". We go through a rather long list of pink, Abby, Abigail, munchkin, pumpkin, girl, baby, and sweet pea. Not long ago I got to the end and realized that you had been keeping track when you said, "my feet pea." I must have forgotten it! Now I go through the list and intentionally miss sweet pea so that I can hear your precious little feminine voice ask me, "my feet pea." My heart melts every time!
You don't just talk. You have conversations. With anyone who will listen. Including the wall, your crib, the bear, your whale, or Keiko. It's adorable. And you tell them all about your owie and everyone else's owie, attributing all said owies to the wapak (water park).
When you want to be held you say, in your most pathetic, irresistable voice, "Mama, hoju" (read: hoe-jew). Sometimes you even throw your name on the end just for kicks.
You go to sleep like it's nothin' and put yourself to sleep (in the middle of a room sometimes) if we take too long. Can you please keep this up until, say, college?
You are a great hugger!
You are a one-of-a-kind, made for a king, created for a purpose, little girl and I can't wait to see what you become in the name of the One who created you. I love you, my "feet pea".
Are you ready for some...
potty???
You MUST read what Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer has to say about potty training. I was falling off my seat laughing, but I was also majorly encouraged in that inside, bosom area that feels all the stress and pressure of parenting. I hope you're encouraged and humored, too!
You MUST read what Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer has to say about potty training. I was falling off my seat laughing, but I was also majorly encouraged in that inside, bosom area that feels all the stress and pressure of parenting. I hope you're encouraged and humored, too!
Friday, September 5
Yes, I'm still alive
OK, so it's been a ridiculously long time since I last posted, but I already told you: I'm not great at this kind of thing. Beyond that, we've been busy. What, you're busy too? And you still post? Well, aren't you good. And inspiring. Which is why I'm finally getting around to keep up with all of you busy, inspiring mommy-bloggers.
Starting with Mother's Day:
Beloved and Pink took me on a hike at Torrey Pines, made me breakfast in bed, gave me cards (these score BIG with me; after all, they contain WORDS), played at Pacific Beach, had dinner at our fav taco place, and went to Gelato Vera for yummy gelato and cappuccinos. Do they love me, or what?
Mama's b-day at Sea World (compliments of Aunt Joan) with Uncle PaPat, An Liss, mama, dada, Pink:
Mama and Pink on the new ride at the Bay of Play where Pink saw Eh-mo (Elmo) all over the place!
Uncle PaPat & Pink are in love We saw Shamu Rocks at night w/ An Liss
Father's Day: Balboa Park with a homemade dinner and fountains! Wawa everywhere.
My beautiful baby girl
Fourth of July in Huntington Beach:
Whoa, who's that MAN of a MAN? Hands off, ladies. And the girl's mine, too.
I could EAT those chubby, 19 month-old legs!
We rode bikes whenever we could (when mama's back allowed) & Pink posed like CRAZY!
My girl has taken to cleaning. All the time. She learned a song from Daniel and Jakey's mom one day, and now she sings, "Clean up, clean up, clean up" all the time during the day. I say, "clean on girl, knock your heart out! Oh, and there's an entire house that needs dusting when you're done."
Starting with Mother's Day:
Beloved and Pink took me on a hike at Torrey Pines, made me breakfast in bed, gave me cards (these score BIG with me; after all, they contain WORDS), played at Pacific Beach, had dinner at our fav taco place, and went to Gelato Vera for yummy gelato and cappuccinos. Do they love me, or what?
Mama's b-day at Sea World (compliments of Aunt Joan) with Uncle PaPat, An Liss, mama, dada, Pink:
Mama and Pink on the new ride at the Bay of Play where Pink saw Eh-mo (Elmo) all over the place!
Uncle PaPat & Pink are in love We saw Shamu Rocks at night w/ An Liss
Father's Day: Balboa Park with a homemade dinner and fountains! Wawa everywhere.
My beautiful baby girl
Fourth of July in Huntington Beach:
Whoa, who's that MAN of a MAN? Hands off, ladies. And the girl's mine, too.
I could EAT those chubby, 19 month-old legs!
We rode bikes whenever we could (when mama's back allowed) & Pink posed like CRAZY!
My girl has taken to cleaning. All the time. She learned a song from Daniel and Jakey's mom one day, and now she sings, "Clean up, clean up, clean up" all the time during the day. I say, "clean on girl, knock your heart out! Oh, and there's an entire house that needs dusting when you're done."
Sunday, June 29
Wednesday, June 25
healthy competition
I just pulled my second binky of the day out of a dirty toilet (serious, dirty) only to have Pink's (that's my 20 month-old) bottom fall into said toilet moments later. At least she peed before she fell so I could immediately commence with the de-grossing sanitation process! I think I'll wait a day or so before kissing those cute buns of hers. Ahhhh, the joys of potty training. Anybody out there who can one-up me?
Thursday, June 19
I've learned two things about myself since I started this blog in the middle of a sleepless night: I was right about myself not being much of a blogger (can't seem to remember to post), and I'm not much for writing in the voice of a person who actually exists (namely my daughter). I so adored the blogs I found that were written in the voice of the child/baby, but it's not me. So this page about our family will be written and signed by Yours Truly. I will attempt to make some kind of habit of getting online and I'm really excited to see the blogs of all of our friends. Kids grow up so fast and it's fun to see them grow! In that spirit, here is a favorite recent pic of my little darling and my man. Just kidding, they're still in the camera. I'll download and put a pic up soon. Promise!
Thursday, April 3
The Great I AM
I'm learning all about God as mama and dada keep talking to me about him and I've started to ask to pray all the time! I like to pray about all sorts of things like my family, my food, my neighbors, the sky, and to say thank you to Jesus, of course! Mama prayed with me tonight about how I AM is always in control of our lives and that his Word is full of his promises. I have been learning about how he takes care of us and I say "tate too" to him all the time.
Mama says that he kept our cars from breaking down on the road twice in the past 2 weeks and I think that's really cool. Instead they have stopped working on the way home where dada can work on them right there in the driveway! I love to help him by handing him lots of tools that I find around the garage. Helping dada is waaaay cool! My favorite is to drive my own car and show off for dada. Look at me!
What does the 3am hour yield?
Well, today it yields a blog page. Who knew? I really is 3am, and I really have been up since midnight, on the computer since 2, stumbling upon blogs that friends had which I had never seen before! Thanks Larissa, Miranda, Dilenna, Melissa, and Heidi, for the adorable pages and inspiration! Next time I work out so hard my muscles hurt too much to sleep, I'll tough it out before taking Excedrin (the only thing I could find in the dark), which has caffeine in it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)