this is not a rough draft.

2011-10-20T09:15:00.004-05:00

It can be believed that God has gifted us--perhaps even every single one of us--with the ability to see through the veil.

We live in a shadow of what once was and what is to come--a gentle ripple, and miles from the first splash we search for how to get back.

Back to where worship and creation intertwined, double-helixing itself into the DNA of a young girl in Galilee and the faithful man who loved her. Do your gifts, your strength, echo this? Are you, who've been remade, turning the world upside down as well?

video via Ann

2011-10-18T09:05:00.002-05:00

I grasp around in my environment to see if there is any sort of shadow of eternity. There has to be redemption hidden somewhere, especially after I'm searching for wayward pacifiers and ridding the house of foul smells and irrational fears. There has to be GLORY in the mundane, right? Because, my friends, when you become a mama, it is a slow and glorious self-death, but it is also a wake-up call to the extreme privilege it is to witness creation by your Creator. To see a person unfold right before you and to suspect that He is going to change the world with the tiny hands you hold. I want to join in on His mission with my own creation, but I find that I fight against all that's been handed to me--the ever-growing needs and requests and "mommy!'s-- to do so. And so, sometimes all I can do is agree with the Holy groans in my walls of spirit and home that tell me it's worth it, the sweeping of sidewalks, the drying of clothes, the taking of pictures, the wiping of bottoms, the tickling on the couch--these things that generate no money or marking or interest--they are WORTH it, because they change the world.

I need to believe it, to hear it daily. Do you?

Ava's room--new!

2011-08-19T13:23:00.010-05:00

Goodness me, it's taken me forever and a day to get these pictures up from Ava's room. Some of you may remember that a leisurely day painting her room turned "interesting" when we discovered that the one (yup, just one!) wall that was covered with wallpaper was actually just covering drywall. The wall looked like this when we attempted (very unsuccessfully) to strip it.

Thank the good Lord for my handy husband, who was driving from DIY store to hardware store and back again, all over town looking for a solution that didn't involve a contractor when I called him to say, "what about beadboard to cover it?" A week or so later, in between dinner and work, and corralling a little girl out of her room, he put up and painted some gorgeous beadboard that looks seamless. Seriously, I have to look really hard to find where the panels meet! We decided (okay, so I convinced him) to do the opposite wall as well, so it wouldn't seem so random. Anyway, here are the final results!

We painted the same Benjamin Moore Habor Fog for the blue, and used some extra trim paint that was leftover from the previous homeowners for the beadboard so it would match up. I think the trim paint was a Walmart brand, which we won't use again because it was like skim milk! So thin.

Here's a close-up of the pretty beadboard, and also a close up of her letters. You can see that the fabric is really crudely ripped and glued on. But I love them and think they look great anyway!

Here's a view of the opposite beadboarded wall. As great as the one wall looked, I really wanted some balance to the room with the beadboard, and not just a random wall that has beadboard on it (that was patching the wallpaper). Thus, more work for my husband, but it really feels balanced now.

Next up, Asher's room! And hopefully, it won't take me months!

living room.

2011-08-03T14:19:00.006-05:00

I've been honing in on my writing style the past few months, and lo and behold, it's actually helped me hone in on my decor style. I do love tweaking the setting of my life, and honestly, it's a wonderful distraction from the rest of my responsibilities. We've recently finished our living room, which is in the same area as our dining and kitchen--another great thing about our new home. Life flows into one setting and back into another easily. Here are a few pics I snapped while my firstborn was out to lunch with her Gigi and the littlest was napping.

The Jane Austen pillows were inspired by the lovely Dear Lillie. I added a green bow to bring in the moss green color from the butterflies.

What could you tell about my current writing project based on my decor? Something gothic, moody, and saturated?

You would be right.

getting your heart where your home is.

2011-05-18T00:23:00.004-05:00

There are things that I'm good at, and there are things that I'm not. I don't explain why I'm not that great at math; I'm just not. So, when there's formulas to decipher and numbers to record, I (if I can) happily pass along the task, I do.

I'm sure there are things you're good at, and things that you aren't.

But did you know that we can all be good at having people over?

It's not about having a clean home or even feeling comfortable at others' eyes roving our corners for cobwebs, it's about loving people.

What if your home was actually your heart?

Obviously, there are dark corners with cobwebs, rooms with doors that will always be closed to non-family members.

We don't expect our hearts to be perfect before loving others, so why do we wait until our home is before inviting others over?

We've lived here for 3 months, and I'll tell you a little secret.

Our house isn't put together after moving at all. I still haven't painted the majority of our walls. We still haven't hung much on them. But, we have had more people over in the past 3 months than we had in all of last year. B and I decided to take advantage of the "we've just moved in" grace people give you, and hosted a birthday party, desserts, dinners, playdates, and more.

And do you know what?

It's been awesome. We basked in the presence of others before our house felt "ready." I've kind of enjoyed having less to dust and the room to think about my potential decor...

but most of all, I've enjoyed letting people in--and in my home, too.

At Rescued Remnant

2011-05-09T05:00:00.001-05:00

I'm over at Rescued Remnant today, a blog of sweet friends, Brad and Carrie. Brad and Carrie are two of the most faithful Christ-followers I know, and I feel incredibly blessed to guestpost for them.

Click on the button to go over to their place, where I used the phrase "dancing in between glory and crap" (You're interested now, aren't you?)

Operation: Postpartum sanity

2011-04-27T13:04:00.005-05:00

Source

Friends, if you've had a baby or going to have a baby or even seen a mother in the grocery store with a tiny baby who's about to lose her MIND, you know it's not easy to have a baby. Especially after the fact. You've spent so much time planning for said child that it's easy to forget about yourself. I've been trying to implement a little sanity into my postpartum-ness with the birth of my second and wanted to share some of it with you. Hopefully, this will evolve into something regular, but we'll see. I've got a baby, you know.

My first postpartum tip has to do with weight loss, or in my case, the lack thereof. Weight loss with the firstborn was, dare I say it.....easy. This one? Not so much. Weight has made itself comfortable. Weight has been around awhile. Weight is not going anywhere without a fight.

However, I don't want to wear maternity stuff and my nursing clothes (upcoming post planned on what kind of clothes are nursing clothes) forever, so what kind of clothes can I really invest in as a stay-at-home mom or weekend warrior mom that don't feel so temporary?

Listen up, friends.

Workout clothes.

What? Yes! They have stretch, are very forgiving (yoga pants), go well with no make-up and a ponytail, and guess what? You can actually WORKOUT in them!

And.... I'll admit it, this has been my mommy trick of yore. Whenever I have rolled out of bed, late to the preschool drop-off line, it's not a tee-shirt and running pants kind of look I go for. It's a "I'm just about to dash to pilates" or a "I go to the gym so often they don't even check my membership anymore" kind of look. Maybe I'll make it to the gym. Maybe not. But the point? You will THINK I've already been to the gym (depending on how rough a night it was) or I'm on my way there.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll make it there someday.

2011-04-19T14:33:00.004-05:00

UPDATE: They're all accounted for!

Ya'll, I still have some pinterest invites left to give. And how else will you ignore work, laundry, and your offspring?

If you do sign up for pinterest, you will have to wait for an invite, which can take upwards of three years. Alright, maybe two weeks. But with my invite, you can INSTANTLY enjoy "pinning" recipes while the hungry people in your household ask where dinner is.

Anyway, my point is, ask me! I'm giving them AWAY.

2011-04-18T14:37:00.004-05:00

Surely you've heard about Pinterest, right? I would describe it as a visual way of organizing your bookmarks...and the best part is, you get to see other people's bookmarks/ideas/cool things of note. Here's mine, and I definitely haven't made a dent in it yet. But already, I could spend hours on it pinning more stuff and looking at others' pins.

But don't you have enough to do, what with tweeting and linking in and poking (who does that on facebook anyway? what purpose does it serve?)?

Yes, you do.

But here are some reasons I love it, and why you should add it to your social networking repertoire..

--it's a VISUAL way of seeing everything you've already bookmarked. I am always bookmarking some clever idea from a blog, and then it gets lost with all my other bookmarks. With pinterest, I can glance at through them at once.

--very helpful if you're wanting to define your style, whether for yourself or your home. It's the "know it when you see it" philosophy, which is from my marketing days. Clients may not know what they want until they see it. Same with you, right? You know you love that bedroom and that one, too--but now that you can pin them and see them side by side, you see that you really just love lots of white bedding with a dark wall. Interesting, hmmmm?

--I'm nosy. What do you like? Me too! You can follow others pins and they can follow yours. It's one big shopping/brainstorming session without the gas.

If you're on it, I'd love to follow you. If you're not, I have 5 invitations to give. Message me in the comments your email addy, and I'll send an invite your way!

Deathly Hallows-style

2011-04-17T20:35:00.006-05:00

B and I finally got to watch the most recent Harry Potter since it had come out a mere few days after Asher was born. It was great, but I was delightedly distracted by the cool 1940s/Urban Outfitters style throughout it, which is a bit of a departure than the other films' more Gothic feel.

Love the style of Ron's parents' house shown here...

Doesn't this remind you of Nazi propoganda?

Fleur's wedding dress was amazing (and apparently somewhat of a scandal in my online search of it, as it was almost an exact copy of one of Alexander McQueen's)

Remember when I promised you the results of Operation De-Wallpaper?

I promise that I will have them soon--we're just chipping away at this project as much as we can without going crazy.

live dangerously-invite people over.

2011-04-07T13:26:00.005-05:00

Why is it that having people over seems so hard?

Is it because you have to clean, plan, and sacrifice that time that could be for yourself or your family?

Does it often seem more of a burden than a blessing?

Hosting is often like dealing with conflict in friendships. It's a chance to go deeper, either with grace or with disaster. B and I once hosted a couple where the husband got sick in the middle of their visit and had to leave. Sadly, we were never able to connect with this couple again. Instead, it became an awkward situation when we saw them around town--maybe they were embarrassed, or perhaps we didn't handle the situation better.

But, honestly? That's life.

You mess up.
People get sick.
People will bring over germs and get you sick.
Kids will spill things on your carpet.
Your stuff might get messed up--maybe even broken.

Which leads me to your heart. It could get broken too.

People might not have a good time.
They might think your decor is tacky.
They might think your house smells bad. (one of my worst fears--especially when you're in your house all day and you have no idea that the trash reeks!)
Your child might have a potty accident.
Their child might have a potty accident.

They could leave and never talk to you again.

I'm going to be honest. It could all happen.

But the risk is worth it; I truly believe it is. I'm working on being braver--letting people see the reality of my life in my home. That my laundry room is a disaster. My kids sometimes have meltdowns. My food doesn't always taste good. I'm incredibly clumsy. And even more.

But, like I receive grace from a Great God, I'm also want to give it. He loves me despite my messes, so I want to invite others into my real life in hopes that that they would find refuge in the imperfections. The reality is, I cannot stop my life to invite people into my home, so why not invite them along?

People could love spending time with you.
They could rave about your food and ask for the recipe.
Your kids could charm your guests with their adorableness and talents.
They could ask you where you got that yummy-smelling candle that makes your home smell so good.
Nobody would have a potty accident, including you.

But most importantly, they could feel at home because everything is not perfect, and yet, you honor their visit by engaging them about their life and offering them the chance to be a part of yours.

It's a dangerous thing to let people cross your threshold. Are you so bold?

Alas, it's wallpaper and drywall

2011-04-05T13:21:00.008-05:00

It started as a normal day.

B was going to spend a few hours painting A's room the beautiful blue (Benjamin Moore's Habor Fog) we had in our last home, and I was going to entertain the children.

Sidenote: Don't you think he got the better job? I kept knocking on the door and picking up a paint brush, but he was on to my plan of "helping." (helping myself to a break, har, har.)

Back to the room. Paint rollers smoothed on that pretty blue. The sun shone. Birds chirped. My son spit up. There was a wall that we knew we'd have to address. It was covered in wallpaper, but we just did a little spitzing of wallpaper-removing gel and a scourer and-easy, right?

No.

NOTHING.

That wallpaper would not remove! Finally, we managed to peel away a corner to reveal that the previous homeowners had wallpapered their beautiful floral wallpaper DIRECTLY TO THE DRYWALL.

*heart beats fast as I scratch frantically against the wallpaper*

"Perhaps just paint it over with paint," you say?

Well, that would be a great solution, had there not been one wall with the wallpaper and the others weren't textured, but alas.

"Perhaps, just call in a professional and get it textured," you say? Not in our budget, alas again.

Here are the pics I took with my phone. Please note that I did not do any editing; it's just that scary.

You can see here that we did try to paint over it just to see what it would look like.

"What did you do?" you say?

Well, I will show you once it's done. Let's just say that B went to Lowe's, and it turned into a not-so-normal day. But I kinda like those days, you know?

Update, soon, I promise!

2011-03-28T14:45:00.002-05:00

I always have big plans to blog and then some little person living here wakes up from a nap ( a snooze when it has a time limit of 10 minutes) or screams because she ripped her paperdoll in two. Do you have any idea of the terror that's involved when one rips a paperdoll? Because I do. And it sounds lot like someone just walked in the aftermath of a terrible crime, NOT just a regular discovery that the paper playtoy that you've been playing with for an hour has a little tear on the corner of her foot.

Anyway.

We are now a month into our new home, and I've had lots of decorating done.....in my mind.

Slow and steady wins the race, or in our case, the budget-conscious, sleep-deprived mommy.

When people start sleeping around here, I'd love to tell you more about our new home, heck, I may even toss a few "before" picture to motivate myself.

Someday.

so sweet!

2011-03-05T14:15:00.002-06:00

This wedding video just warmed my heart today! Such great style and you could see how smitten they were with each other. Enjoy!

Adam & Eve from dolly on Vimeo.

2011-03-04T14:31:00.010-06:00

I went to Target today, and it was proven that regardless of what Target you go to, shopping there is similar to a sugar high. Euphoric at first, and then the crash comes soon after when you're aimlessly pushing a cartload of stuff around in circles second-guessing not only your purchases, but your entire decor--perhaps existence, even-- in general.

How modern do I want to go?

Does this look eclectic or just badly placed?

Do I buy one really loved expensive purchase or ten okay inexpensive ones?

Does that guy work here or is he just wearing a red shirt?

Oy.

I knew Littlest A would be the best shopping buddy when he did not abandon me after my 5th turn around the bath mats, although he did finally fall asleep from exhaustion. However, I can't say I blame him. All that was on my lists were rugs for our home and some drum shades to update our lamps in the bedroom, but I managed to spend 2 hours there.

But why stop at just 2 hours? Let's ogle at them all over again!

Starburst Rug
(Loving this one--I may have to go back and get it)

Home Medallion Rug

Home Dream Rug

I picked this one to go with my shower curtain that's in our main bath.

I got this one for the kitchen doorway off the garage. It was super inexpensive, but the geometric print made it feel like it had a little "extra."

2011-03-03T16:53:00.004-06:00

We've moved, ya'll! And we're almost unpacked and enjoying all of our space ever so much. Right now I'm typing this from our family room enjoying the breeze that's coming in from the dining area. What's key about this experience is the BREEZE. Dear, owner of our old rental, why did you paint the windows shut?

Anyways, what's also exciting about our new home is that the Littlest A gets his very own room in which to nap and otherwise grow up in. I've been planning this room in my mind so long that I'm giddy with excitement! What to start with first?

Perhaps with his name?

In lue of letters above the crib that are everywhere, I decided to order an inexpensive canvas from Canvas People with this picture that my fab sister-in-law, Jessica, took on one of our living room chairs a few weeks after he was born.

I ordered a 16 x 20 from Canvas People--and yes, it will be BIG. But, I figure a canvas is much more fall-friendly, so we might as well make it big! Plus, Canvas People is super inexpensive.

Stay tuned for more boy nursery developments!

with a knick knack....

2011-02-13T13:59:00.006-06:00

Lately, I've come to terms that I'm a recovering "but-it's-only-$3.99!" and "how cheap can we furnish this place?" decorator. This may have come into perspective when we were quoting movers and one of them remarked that we had a lot of knick-knacks, so that would up their packing time. After he left, I then cornered B into analyzing that remark with "but we don't have a lot of knick-knacks" and "we live in a small house! if you put several things in a small house, of course that can seem overwhelming" to "do you really think we have a lot of STUFF? We don't buy a lot and we are always having yard sales!"

I continued on until I noticed that B was ignoring me and tending to other activities such as GETTING US READY TO MOVE.

I know, where are his priorities, right?

However, lately I've looked at all of my knick-knack-patty-whacks and agreed that they were beautiful and a "great deal" but I didn't love all of them. This includes furniture, in which I don't love the pattern, color, or fabric. Most of them were simply bought because they were goshdarnsocheap, cute, and would fill a space. They didn't have a history with me, and I found that I would have easily given them away or sold them to get something I really liked. Which....turns out to not be such a great deal in the end, right?

We close on our new house this week, and we delightedly discovered that when you move out of the city, you get more space--not only to run, but to live in, too. Our new house has lots of space for knick-knacks, yard sale furniture, and more. But this time, we're telling ourselves it's okay to live in empty rooms--we're not going to rush out to furnish it with pennies and some "ehhh" stuff. I'm determined that we can WAIT for the things we love--to afford them and to find them!

Oh, and we're planning one mean garage sale this spring.

The picture above is actually the knick-knackiest place in our current house--the mantel--and it also happens to be my favorite part of our home. So, you know, it's all relative.

Sew. I Did It.

2011-02-09T22:05:00.010-06:00

I've been following a noteworthy, creative blog, Grograin Fabulous, lately, who is posting a series called The Top 10 Big Ticket Items Every DIYer Should Own. One of them, the sewing machine, had always been an intimidating tool for me. I grew up watching my mom and grandmother discuss sewing and "how easy it is." My mom sewed a couple of outfits for me and even my flowergirls; dresses and firstborn's bedding. My first job out of college, I toured my company's factory and watched a slew of women sewing products with amazing speed. I wanted to learn and didn't know where to start...it's an intimidating hobby to take on...is this just me who thinks this? It's like Crafting Level Tier 1 or something, right?

Well, I blog to bring you good news. Last year, I somehow taught myself to sew via YouTube videos on how to thread my machine and learned basic techniques by studying geniuses like Ruffles and Stuff. It CAN be done--I don't know how I learned or picked up stuff, but it wasn't as hard as I perceived it to be! Now, I have a lot to learn and would appreciate it if no one looks too closely at my stitching (or lack thereof), but, friends, I sew.

A few weeks ago, my friend, Steph, told me about Little Girls, Big Style. I got the book off of Amazon and decided to try the most basic of patterns in the book--a bodice and ruffle pants. I've been wanting to make ruffle pants for awhile for A-- they are so cute and feel a little Eastern to me for some reason....especially when he had some on with her Tiny Toms the other day. I would love to make some with a denim-type fabric and think they would be super cute with a tie as a belt around the waist instead of elastic. The pants were not difficult and more of a capri-style (I would do a longer style next time), but the bodice was another kind of animal. Lining, straps, and BUTTONHOLES that nearly sent me over the edge. Let's just say that I'll be taking a break from making anything more complicated from the book for awhile (I should anyway, though, right? I'm about to MOVE, people!). And, I feel like I should note that I respect sewers anymore after I sewed this "BASIC bodice" and "BASIC ruffle pants."

Anyways, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth and a couple of days where we were stuck in the house because it had snowed, here we are! The style is a little more girly than A wears--and I may eliminate the bottom ruffle of the bodice next time, but hey, I sewed this! Myself! It's been reserved as the "Valentine's Day outfit" but she loves it and kept dancing around the room after I took this picture. So worth it after seeing her love it so much.

Whew. Now I'm going to go take a nap.

Sidenote: Check out my talented sister-in-law's darling sewing nook. I shamelessly pat myself on the back a little because I taught her how to sew after I taught myself!

2011-01-17T16:25:00.001-06:00

I'm still letting this new year settle in....some people claim words for their years (Courage, Joy, Peace), but me, I'm more cautious.

Last year, although joyous with the birth of my newest, was a challenge. I felt like it was a struggle and sympathize even more with my daughter when she is disappointed.

Mostly, because this past year did not look like I thought it might.

B and I had set out for last year to be the year of my writing. I was free to hole myself up in Starbucks on 7th street during A's preschool to write the story we both created. He had dreamed it one night, and my mind jumped in it like a game of Double Dutch. We were writing a story that we both loved, and I had set out to write 80,000 words of it.

Only a 1,000 were written, and they were hard, rough draft words with empty, transparent characters.

Over time, I stopped seeing these characters' faces, started running errands during my writing time, and then got pregnant and craved sleep instead of creativity during that time.

My writing felt silly and something along the lines of a life of luxury...who has time to write when there is a baby to be molded and shaped? Or a medical deductible to meet?

So I had to pick up my clients again and work with their rough draft words. I helped mold and shape them and observed the fruition of crisp, hardbound books from their words.

Jealous, tired, and weighty.

These were the words for me.

My words on this blog came to a halt too. I became more self-concious and worried about the importance of them.

So I kept them to myself.

This year, I'm trying to be realistic, but also dream a little, too. My arms are full with a child who sqaucks and coo, there are chores to be done, and other children to be corrected, but I'm still positive....and cautiously excited about a home that's to be ours soon with its very own office for my writing.

Perhaps this will be the year of words?

I hope so.

everyone should have their own Pioneer Woman

2010-12-31T07:26:00.004-06:00

We had a regular 'ole "we got too much" Christmas around here, so while we exert the strength of a thousand men trying to open Barbie boxes (can someone answer me as to why this is so difficult?), I have to showcase my friend, Nicole, whose family got some special someones for their Christmas. I met Nicole when she was adorned with her regular cardigan and pearls, but had no idea of her adorable farm-life in the making, which still includes pearls, but also the addition of cute work boots. Her 3-year-old, Annie Pearl (I know, can you believe what an adorable name that is?) is just like her, with tenacity, classiness, and personality plus. A and I, otherwise known to them as city mice, went this summer to their home in "the country," and while A ran from the chickens in terror, I flopped around in the heat, miserable and pregnant. Needless to say, we embarrassed ourselves, and Annie Pearl was less than impressed with the friends her mother brings around. We're hoping for a second chance soon because A's "we habbent visiting Hannie Pearl in 'while" melts me. Nicole brought me an incredible meal after we had Littlest A that included her homemade jam, and I am savoring every last morsel of it. I think everyone should have their own Pioneer Woman in their life, but if you can't, you should read Nicole's blog, Chasing One Squirrel at a Time.

In other news, my son likes to play with my hopes and dreams by sleeping through the night (10pm-4am) one night and getting up every two hours the next.

2010-12-21T13:19:00.002-06:00

There's something precious about finding fellowship with Mary as a mother during this season. I am stretched thin with giving in every regard, as Ann Voskamp so elegantly puts it--"like a pregnant belly." I remember my own belly that was pulled taut and itchy with anticipation only weeks ago. Now my son is here as well as our joy that came with him, but the work has just begun. I am a night owl by duty (not choice), keeping watch with little Asher. We hear the passerbys of other night owls' cars and wonder what their story is....why they are out late or early...and where is that line between the two anyway? I have no mornings because I really do not have nights. I am a mother to a newborn with an awake and energetic 3 year old, and.... there truly is no rest for the weary.

Thank goodness that His burden is light.

So I sit and feed, bound by my tiny son's hunger, and I can't help but wonder if it is God's intent that we slow down as mamas and marvel at it all. At the speedy creation of a new soul in only 9 months, at the ability for our own bodies to continue on in provision for their gaping mouths. I wonder if Mary kept watch with her Baby Jesus... hoping that those passerbys were kindred spirits to her hope. Did they murmur a "do you know what I know?" to their friends and family back at their homes? Did unknowing strangers show her mercy as a new mother? Did she cry with the awe of it all when he peacefully slept, all the while keeping watch over her... keeping watch over Him?

It is a mystery this Gift we've been given; one that I don't even pretend to understand as I fumble in the dark toward morning...feeding, hoping, listening.

Newness

2010-11-29T16:25:00.005-06:00

I long to see the back of my eyelids these days, but at the same time, I cannot keep myself from staring at my son's sweet face. Littlest A entered the word on a rainy Friday, Nov. 12th at exactly 10am. Laboring this little guy was anything but non-eventful, and B and I have laughed several times since then recalling the amount of "we'renotdoingthisagain" I whisper-yelled at him through the contractions (let's just say that epidural was not, in fact, my friend, as previously thought).

Anyways, this little guy has proven to be sweetness personified, as well as a medical marvel by managing to score an ear infection from the hospital and wowing medical professionals all around. He's also very gifted in his sensitivity with somehow developing "real tears," which makes for a very pitiful and sad cry.

Somehow, I flip from wanting it all to slow down to wishing these crazy first months away just so I can have the energy and sleep to actually relish in him, but at the same time, I'm just praying through our moments. We're definitely living moment-to-moment around here. Some are good, some are bad, and some....are really bad.;)

To expedite this post (because I'm probably needing to actually nap while I can), I do want to share in a bit of news. B accepted a new job as the Associate Pastor of Student Ministries at a Waco church, and we will be moving (!!!) in February. This decision has been really difficult, but in the end, we've felt peace about it. I can't believe we're actually moving AGAIN, but at the same time, our tiny home is feeling a leeeeetle snug with our new addition. I'm thankful that we do get to experience Christmas in it, however. We've haphazardly decorated with our tree already, and the star on top is somehow managing to stay crooked no matter how much we tweak it. I'm feeling a little like that as a mother, though--trying to lead my littles to Christ all the while feeling very, very human.

Thank goodness for grace.
And silent nights that eventually come (they have to, right?).
And for Jesus, who begins right where we end.

Black Apple Fall Sale

2010-10-11T19:38:00.006-05:00

My budget is being taken up by all things baby, but you, however, should go spend your monies at The Black Apple Fall Sale.
I've mentioned before what a fan I am of Emily's art--it somehow manages to be both melancholy and sweet. I would love for her to add some more boy-oriented art, though, because I think I need some for Asher.

These paper dolls are too precious to actually play with (although my little girl would disagree). I would love them framed all in a row.

I love these little bitty people for the littles' shared room.

A would look so cute carrying this bag to preschool.

This is by far, my favorite pair of hooligans.

his name.

2010-09-10T17:48:00.003-05:00

He has a name, although we speak it in rations--as if it will wear out before he's here.

I know that's not true, though. I will whisper it will comforting his newborn-ness, yell it out the window to discipline his boy-ness, and speak it will honor when telling friends of his adult accolades.

Asher Jude.

Asher, from the Hebrew tribe of Asher, meaning "blessed" and "happy"--because we are already blessed to have the promise of him, the cherry on top of our family. He is our Ephesians 3:20--the more that we can ask or imagine from our Father. We asked for just one child, and he gave us our Ava, our "bearer of His good news." And now our cup overflows with a second.

Jude is for the humble apostle, who does not even mention his possible brotherhood with Jesus in his very short letter. His name also comes from The Beatles' song, which Ava has sung over and over these past (almost 8 now) gestating months. She's been singing his song, even before he is here. How the Father does the same with us (Zeph 3:17) when He quiets us with his love. I cannot wait to hear Ava sing it to him in person.

My dreams are that he would be an adventurer for his faith, a lover of people, and one who would bestow blessings and happiness in the humility of Christ.

I can't wait to meet him.

My Asher Jude.

2010-08-26T19:43:00.003-05:00

B and I took a getaway this past weekend where we chatted with no interruptions, walked across the street without holding tiny hands, and other such luxuries when you are not with your children. Well, there was the other one who came with us, but fortunately, he's pretty low maintenance for now.

For NOW.

We had an amazing view on the 26th floor of our Dallas hotel, and B snapped a picture that I ended up loving. Here we are, at 27 weeks.

I hope to be back to blogging more and more--at least until this one sends me back to the hermit world of newborn life. Those can be dark days, as you mommies well know, but they are still so sweet.

2010-08-25T19:34:00.004-05:00

During my newest sister-in-law's bridal shower a few months ago, her mother leaned over to me and my mom and told us how three-year-old girls were the closest to angels as you could get. I wasn't so sure then, but Ava's comment today just completely knocked me over in its sweetness.

"Mommy, if I take my shoes off and get my feet stuck in the mud, Jesus will save me. And then I will be free."

Amen, baby girl.

How does she get it so right at such a tiny age?

I assure you, all we have been doing is haphazardly planting seeds.

2010-08-15T20:14:00.007-05:00

The hormones of pregnancy are taking me on a heck of ride--the lows are laughable (later, not in the moment, of course) and the highs are delirious. I do feel creative, thank goodness; there's something to SHOW for all of this insanity! I cannot wait for fall (and cooler temps, please), so I made a few little felt specialities that are for sale in my etsy shop. Enjoy my little model who was a gem as long as she had a lollipop in her hand (smart negotiator, that one).

Oh Dee Doh!

2010-08-09T00:00:00.001-05:00

A little more shameless, self-promoting, but my little girl's room was featured on a majorly wonderful kids' decor site a few weeks ago, Oh Dee Doh! Which is I suppose is what you say when you're featured because it is such an HONOR.

The pictures are the same, but if you're interested, here's the article that went along with it!

My Room: Ava

moving tips from my OCD brain to your, most likely, pretty normal brain

2010-08-07T19:49:00.008-05:00

A few months ago, one of my childhood best friends emailed me asking for moving tips before moving into a new home. I do joke that we move almost as much as our anniversary rolls around each year, but I never considered myself a "go to" person for this. Mostly, because B and I joke that hell is a place where all you do is move....and then once you get everything settled, you move again. It's a the most stressful, uncomfortable, exhausting, and disorganized (no matter HOW organized you try to be!) event I've ever been a part of of. And that includes having a child.

I'm just sayin.'

The great thing about moving, and one that keeps me going through it all is the chance to call another, better place home. I try my best to keep us organized since we have moved ourselves each time to keep that positive outlook, and I thought I'd share my OCD ways with you....

--As you pack, write brief summaries of what's in the box, but above all, put a color-coded sticker on the box that is assigned to that room. You know the garage-sale stickers that are blank but are all different colors? Draw a diagram of your new house and assign a color for each room (yellow for kitchen, blue for bathroom, etc.). As the boxes get packed in the truck, they'll get moved everywhere, but when you're moving into your new house, you can simply post the sign on the front door and all of your helpers and/or professional movers will know exactly where to put each box.

The main reason I love this idea is that you won't wind up with the pots and pans in your bedroom or have to go looking for an item later that you'll won't find for weeks. I've done this method for each move, and it's worked wonderfully. Sometimes, when it's getting close to the wire and we're just dumping stuff into the box, I can just slap a sticker on it and know that at least the box will get in the right room (even if I don't know what's in it:). One move got a little out of hand and we had lots of random boxes with random things in them and no stickers--which wouldn't have been a problem if we hadn't been able to find the iron the night before B was to be introduced to a new church. (It was in with the Christmas stuff. Of course!)

--Ask Walmart/any other big box store about their box situation. Where do they put their unused boxes? Can they set some aside for you? Other good stores to ask for boxes are liquor stores (really sturdy boxes) and bread stores. If you're moving within days--don't spend money on wardrobe boxes. Consider the box like a suitcase. Your stuff, if packed properly, won't get too wrinkled. Also, I've moved lots of times, and rarely, rarely had to buy boxes.

--go to where the newspaper is printed and ask for one of their end rolls. Use this to pack breakables. Not as great as bubble wrap, but so much cheaper ( I think my local paper charged me a $1 back in 2003.)

--use towels and out-of-season clothes to pack other breakables.

--pack suitcases for yourselves for the span of several days. That way, you'll have all your needed clothes, shampoo, etc. and won't feel a rush to unpack all of your clothes OR go several days without changing. I mean, you know, if that were to happen. Allegedly.

--Pack your car with these items ( that will stay with you on the moving day)

-bedding for everyone
-towels
-shower curtain and rings
-toilet paper
-paper towels
-cleaning items (Clorox wipes, etc.)
-water bottles
-juice boxes
-snacks, plus breakfast foods
-scissors to open boxes
-some tools, like a hammer and screwdriver
-pad and pen to make lists of what you need for later Walmart runs
-nails and hardware in a plastic bag that you took down from your curtain rods and any other hanging items
-*any special screws, etc. for a baby crib* You DO NOT want to misplace these.

-Make a folder that has all your moving receipts (which you can use for taxes later), as well as all the numbers for the utility companies. Call before you move to get everything scheduled to be turned off at the old house the day after you move and turned at the new house on the day before you move. It can take weeks to get someone like AT&T out to hook up your phone or internet (insert eye roll here). Know that you can negotiate with them now, too. You could possibly move companies, and I've gotten lots of perks because I've acted like I'm not sure if I want to stay as their customer (like Direct TV--three free months of HBO when we weren't eligible for that moving perk last time).

--If you're moving locally, ask a friend to store your freezer items and bring them to you later. Use your cooler to store everything in your fridge that you want to keep.

--Get a babysitter or family to entertain for the moving day.

--Resolve to set up everyone's bed first.

--After the beds, next in unpacking priority (in my opinion) are these rooms"

1. kids' rooms (I've found if they have all their toys in a new place, they almost become like new toys. A crazy and wonderful phenomenon!)
2. kitchen
3. bathrooms
4. everything else

--Plan to be finished with packing the day before you actually need to be done. It takes MUCH longer than you think.

--It is possible to have too much help on the moving day. If someone really wants to help and you don't need them (or want them;) , ask them to go to the grocery store for you, bring dinner, etc. Also, be prepared to feed whoever helps you move in.

I think that's it! Hope this is helpful to someone!

june-teenth wedding

2010-06-22T12:28:00.005-05:00

This past weekend we got to witness the sweetest, most holy wedding ever of my baby brother and his stunning bride, J. A was the flowergirl and B was the officiant, or the "knot-tier," which is what I liked to call him the entire weekend. It gave it a classy sound, don't you think?

J looked beautiful, and I am forever saying that I think blonde brides are gorgeous. There's something about that hair and the color white, like Cameron Diaz in The Holiday.

Here's a picture of our little girl at the reception, delighted to discover that if she ever so gently dipped her finger into her water glass, she could paint a picture on the silver charger in front of her. Whatever keeps her happy and quiet during a formal affair, right?

Our table turned our chargers over to learn that they were not "food-safe" from a sticker on the back. Because again, we're classy like that and, subsequently, confused.

She and her Daddy dancing--I love this picture and know it will make B tear up in the years to come!

Speaking of years to come, did you know ours will entail a little boy, too? I'm getting bigger by the second, and please let me advise you, do not be pregnant during the summer in Texas. You will not take pictures of yourself at beautiful weddings, and then, your blogger readers are sure to riot in response.

2010-05-31T10:13:00.004-05:00

I did not literally fall off the ends of the earth, but I certainly did figuratively. On A's birthday back in March, we got our own little present.

This.

I forgot the disruption such a tiny thing can do to a mother's life--my normal schedule is out, cooking is a long lost pipe dream, and naps are a necessity. I am four months tomorrow, but still feeling like I'm in the first trimester. We do get to find out what we're having next month, and I can't wait!

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.

Glory to God in the church!
Glory to God in the Messiah, in Jesus!
Glory down all the generations!
Glory through all millennia! Oh, yes!

Ephesians 3:20-21, The Message

2010-03-22T20:34:00.005-05:00

Ugh, seriously, Texas. One day I'm getting a debut pedicure for my flip flops and the next day I'm brushing snow off my windshield. I'm a little leary of this gorgeous sunshine, but I'm going outside anyway. Perhaps if you're inside or need a little inspiration, consider the following fun finds.....

Please tell me you've read this blog--it's HILARIOUS. Girls are Absurd makes fun of all the crazy things girls do, and they are undoubtedly true. This post made me laugh until I cried. No joke. The blogger is a relative of MK's and Joe's, and I can't believe they've been keeping this hilarious person from me! I still have yet to be introduced. And am a little bitter about it.

Another fav blog these days for me is Small Notebook. I could seriously be friends with this girl. She is all about living a simple life with plenty of frugality and rich experiences.

Do you know your Color Personality? I was surprised at what I learned about myself! Here's the test and, for your viewing pleasure, here are my results....

BLACK is your color

Nothing can stand between you and your demand for a calm environment. To be free of conflict and disagreement is the only way to live. In fact, it’s this philosophy that probably allows you to be comfortable in conditions that would normally bother others. Your ability to focus is undisputed, and while you enjoy attention, you still have problems understanding how to handle it. No other color out lives by the golden rule as much as you do.

I'm loving this neutral nursery. I love the idea of neutrals in a baby's room--peaceful, soothing for their (hopefully) sleepy nights and naps. Perhaps we can take a lesson from them--after all, the only time my daughter spent in her room as an infant was to sleep!

On that note, my daughter, that is, we had a cheerleader-themed birthday party for her this month. Somehow I haven't gotten my lazy self to get the pictures from my camera to my computer, but it will happen. It was great and she even had real, live cheerleaders that attended who taught her guests some cheers!

Meal Plan Mania

2010-03-09T14:53:00.004-06:00

Money Saving Mom is hosting an awesome series about grocery budgeting this week.I wanted to link her series as well as share some of my meal planning routines just in case you'd like to....okay, I'll be honest...in case you'd also like to jump on the crazy train headed toward the land of obsessive compulsive along with me. What? Honesty, people. I'm just being honest.

All joking aside, I like to be organized in the areas of life I do not enjoy. Such as taxes. Things like my pretty fabric stash can be crumpled in my closet because I enjoy taking it all out and admiring it again while I organize it for the eleventeenth time. If this was the same case as my old tax returns, I may have an anxiety attack. I also do not LOVE to cook or meal plan. I would much rather go out to eat, or plain have a servant to do it all for me. Alas, but this is part of my JOB, so I have to muscle through it.

So, then, my thought was....how can we make this process as close to painless as possible?

Make it Brainless - How annoying is it to hem and haw on Sunday afternoon about what your family is going to eat that week when you'd rather be napping? I thought so too, so I wrote down 30 of our family's favorite meals, including sides down in my Household Notebook. Now, I can just go through them and pick and choose what we'll eat that week. Sure, I like to try new recipes every now and then, but if it's not that great, it's never going to make the LIST.

After I've picked them, I go searching for ingredients I already have. Then I write down what I need on my grocery list.

Make it Thorough - I meal plan as much as possible--breakfasts, lunches, and sometimes even snacks. This is nice because I never really feel awake enough in the morning to be creative with Ava's meals (" how 'bout cereal again, honey?"), and when there's a list already planned for me, well, that makes it even better.

Make it Cheap- Be realistic with yourself about your money-saving aspirations. If you're not a couponer, then be logical and go to Walmart, where you'll still save money. If you are a couponer, use as much tactic as possible to get what will make your meals. Notice I said "what will make your meals." This doesn't have to be this week's meals, but if you're buying that ground turkey when you've never made a turkey meal in your life, well, this is going to be more of a hassle that a money-saving moment, isn't it? The Grocery Game is a good coupon resource, but so are so many other smart shoppers out there who will post what's on sale where and what coupon to use FOR FREE. There may be a little more work involved, but searching for "target coupon deals" among Google's Blog search yields some noteworthy results on Sunday afternoon.

Another frugal tactic is buying fresh ingredients to make something. Homemade cookies are so much better. Homemade lasagna is amazing. Homemade cinnamon rolls send me into a trance. Shop the perimeters and avoid the middle aisles as much as you can.

Make It Good - Sometimes I have cravings for something good that I would only be eating out. Girlfriend, make it at home! I've made P.F. Chang's lettuce wraps in the crock pot, and felt pretty good when the check never came.

I did have to wash the dishes, though.

I so need a servant.

free, cool art

2010-02-24T05:00:00.001-06:00

I always had a work of art in my room growing up-usually prints from my parents' museum visits- and I love that idea for my little one. Indie Fixx has some great FREE printables for children's rooms, or even a creative office space for you!

This one would match my little one's decor perfectly.

So sweet--this one made my heart jump!

I love this dreamy one. It's by far my favorite!

I love this one for a family room--it is both childlike and melancholy.

This one feels very Anthro. I can see it in a feminine space, a single girl's kitchen or even a bathroom.

This one would look great in a modern office.

There are lots of options for everyone.

And even this, which, for the record, would NOT be the best option for your child's room.

Trust me.

lazy production

2010-02-22T05:00:00.001-06:00

We've had a wonderfully lazy weekend, despite B working most of Saturday (and Sunday, of course) and me crouched over a sewing machine. I'm finally learning how to sew, and I can still hear my mother and grandmother's squeals of joy over this. My fourth official project was a bubble skirt for A, and I used Ruffles and Such ingenious idea of repurposing too-small tights for this. You simply cut off a pair of tights, sew the skirt to the waistband and the bottom, and then make knee high socks out of the rest of the tights! Okay, so maybe it's not that simple. For me, anyway. But I thought it turned out pretty cute, and there's nothing like feeling productive along with a new outfit Sunday morning.

completely flattered!

2010-02-19T05:00:00.000-06:00

I received a comment tonight from Julie, telling me that she had made her own butterfly tree! I had to share it because it's completely adorable, and she spent a whopping $2.50. She's smart, people. Please don't fall under the Pottery Barn spell and spend unnecessary money like I did when you can learn from her! Here's picture of her beautiful tree, and don't forget to visit her blog to see how she made it.

Also, one of my loveliest friends, MK, asked me to help redo her little girl's room! She actually "asked," as if I'd actually have to think about it! Um, YES. Stay tuned for some before pictures!

how I don't know really what I'm doing and you can too!

2010-02-17T07:06:00.011-06:00

Thanks for your patience! The Internet connection returned home like a prodigal son, and I did not hesitate to throw my arms around it like a waiting parent. But before that, it was killing me to get so many new visitors here and not be able to greet you adequately! Thank you for all of your sweet comments about my little girl's room! In no way am I a decorator-by any terms! I really just look at a lot of pictures and use my sense of balance when choosing what to put where. Essentially, I'm a copycat.

Decorating my daughter's room was a joy, and a great way to introduce a more modern look in my very non-modern home. Are you like me in that you want the smushiest, cushiest, chippiest look to foster warmth, comfort, and hospitality in your home?

I know! I love that look, too!

Well, I am here to say something new, my friends.

Do Not Be Afraid of the Modern.

I used to hate modern decor. I thought it was cold, sterile, and not rational. Chairs seemed like waiting room chairs--ones that you only wanted to be in for 15 minutes or less. Art was avant garde. And colors were jarring, not soothing.

So, like many, I tried my best to stay away from it and embraced everything else on the opposite end of the spectrum. However, lately, I've been a little more open to modern style in the hopes to add some substance to my cottage decor. Every soft line needs a hard one to balance it, but it doesn't have to be something you don't love. Here are some elements of modern decor to consider adding into cottage-y/beach-y/shabby chic decor.

-museum-like

-patterns on top of patterns

-color

-go big instead of small

-don't be so serious!

Based on the above bullets, can you spot the modern elements in these comfy, inviting rooms?

From Pure Style Home

I love Pure Style Home, and truly, Lauren is the one who's given me a push for more modern in my home. Here, the AMAZING chandelier from Anthropologie is a statement piece for her dining/living room as well as the beautiful piece of art (museum-like). She also features a bold pattern against her couch. It still feels comfortable and homey.

From Ballard Designs

Ballard Designs is a great store to find modern elements while keeping the warmth of your original decor. Here you can see that the large picture is "museum-like" and the big floral arrangement has presence.

From Houzz.com

Patterns on top of patterns--and they're bold, too! This bedroom still keeps a soothing feeling with the bold pillows against the white bedding.

I love this bedroom in its prim and properness, and then you have the zebra rug! It's the definition of a true Texas girl (which makes sense since it's a Texas' girl's house!). We know how to act like ladies, but aren't afraid of doing a man's job, either. The modern elements here is the bold print of the zebra rug, which is the surprise factor, too (not so serious).

Cote de Texas via House and Home online

Baby steps, baby steps--don't forget it! And embrace a little modern decor in your life--carefully, though. It does have hard lines, after all.

This is not a pioneer settlement, either.

2010-02-14T14:00:00.002-06:00

....but it has been here at my home. We had 12 inches(!!!!) of snow this last week, which knocked out my power and my Internet connection. There were more than 200,000 people without power in DFW, and for us Texans, "cold" is one frontier we haven't quite conquered yet. Thank goodness my power's back on, but the Internet connection has yet to be found. Arg.

Of course, all of this happened in the midst if my daughter's room being featured on A Soft Place to Land, which garnered so many new visitors! Thanks also for following me, and please, please don't give up on me just yet. I'm here, but posting via an iPhone is not exactly optimal. I hope to be back posting soon once we find my Internet connection and will, most likely, be posting about how I made the sweet little tree I made in my daughter's room.

a big girl room!

2010-02-09T20:41:00.017-06:00

The sun finally came out today, and although it was too cold to go outside to play, we had a fun lunch play date with friends inside instead. I also got some pictures of A's big girl room. She has just been so giddy with her new little environment since we've finished it all, and that it's made all the painting and re-painting furniture and walls worth it!

And with that, here we go.....

I admit it. I was one of those that fell in love and fell hard for the Brooke bedding at Pottery Barn Kids. Purchasing the quilt, shams, and the owl nearly shot my budget alone, so I bought sheets and a dust ruffle at Target and Walmart--which I feel much better about when I'm up late at night changing sheets for one reason or another.:) The bed itself is a twin Jenny Lind-style, which was found on Craigslist for $80 and painted white by my sweet husband. I felt so fortunate to find such a deal on it, especially since most antique Jenny Linds run around $500, and even a new one at The Land of Nod is $500! Please know--it pays to wait for exactly what you want at your price point! Waiting 4-5 months for this bed was nothing when I see it everyday, and it looks exactly how I envisioned for her room. The mattress and box spring were purchased new.

The paint color is Benjamin Moore Harbor Fog.

My little girl, almost 3 years old, is not into napping anymore. Well, she never was into it (I was), but I still enforce a rest time, regardless. Her grandparents bought this hanging book display at The Land of Nod, and it now makes rest-time a little more restful. Somehow she also thinks she can "read" her books during the night, too, and we often hear some shuffling and page turning by the light of her tiny nightlight.

The framed tree picture is a gorgeous photo that I won from the talented Kelly. It adds to the woodland theme in the room so much!

I've had these letters for awhile, although they were just painted white and hung in A's nursery with ribbons. I was somewhat tired of that look in her room, so I used Modge Podge to adhere some fabric strips on them. We gave her the cat on her first Christmas. And yeah, she couldn't have cared less about it. The shelf is a hand-me-down from a friend before A was born.

My favorite part of her room is this little tree I created on top of her bookshelf! A couple of branches from the yard, some fabric scraps with green in them cut in the shape of leaves, and a cheap tin planter from Joanne's ($2) makes a little bit of whimsy for her active imagination. I had noticed that lots of children's rooms lately online and in catalogs had incorporated tree branches somehow--I love bringing the outside in. I wanted somewhere safe to put it, though, so high up and away from curious hands on top of her bookcase was perfect. I also glued some small butterflies from a kit that I used around the room (Pottery Barn Kids $30, although it's not sold there anymore) in the tree.

A little bird sits on top of the highest tree branch.

Hooks for dress up! Is the Louis Vuitton purse not the most hilarious thing you've ever seen? I love when she pretends to be mommy with it. As if Mommy actually has anything that resembles a designer brand purse. I found this accordion peg rack at a friend's parent's garage sale, and they insisted I take it for free among other things. B spray painted it white. Love!

Because her room functions as a bedroom and a playroom, I tried to make several "stations" for her playtime--reading, art, kitchen, etc. Here is her art station (although she does have table and chairs for other crafts in the dining room). One side is for paper and the other a chalkboard. Perfect for practicing her shapes and recognizing upper- and lower-case letters!

I was stumped on how to find art for a large, awkward wall in her room. Our furniture placement has had to be strategic, based on the floor vents that cannot be covered and the numerous windows, and that didn't made wall decor easier, either. I saw somewhere that someone had let their own child provide the artwork for a large wall with these art clips from (you guessed it) the Land of Nod. And for the record, I had no idea of my level of loyalty for the Land of Nod until this post. Although it makes sense when it ALWAYS appears in my ads when I'm skipping around the Interweb. Sneaky Google, knowing where I like to shop and whatnot.

Kitchen station! Her darling little Kid Kraft kitchen from Christmas two years ago. I was mesmorized by it's cuteness then and, thus, did not plan for any subsequent children that might not love the color pink for all of their toys when I purchased it. Oops. Oh, well. They aren't here yet to complain about it, anyway. But can you blame me? I made the curtains from a cute fabric I got on sale at Joanne's (also made a Valentine's Day applique for her class party on Friday with it!). The mirror is from Garden Ridge and was clearanced as damaged merchandise for $5. It used to be gold, and we did indeed break out the spray paint for this as well. Sorry, global warming. We will do better, I promise.

Hard at work being mommy to her doll--such the nurturer....

And, finally, why we did it all. So worth it, as always.

Hope you enjoyed our little tour through her room!

I've linked up with the following decor parties!

DIY Day @ A Soft Place to Land

Trash to Treasure Day @ Reinvented

Show and Tell @ Blue Cricket Design

Something I Whipped Up @ The Girl Creative

Metamorphosis Monday @ Between Naps on the Porch

2010-02-05T08:21:00.005-06:00

It's been dreary and rainy all week long, which has prevented me from getting some good pictures of A's new "big girl" room. I randomly got this picture the other day and loved it, although it was with flash during a dark afternoon storm. I hate using flash inside and try to avoid it as much as possible. It tends to remind me of those Mom and Pop restaurant ads with pictures of their best platters, that no matter how delicious they are, always look unappetizing. However, I was pleasantly surprised that this one turned out kind of looking a little vintagey.

Once the weather clears up and offers some pretty natural light, I'll be sure to post more!

"Mary Poppins has landed" or tips on making a Home Management Notebook

2010-01-29T14:48:00.005-06:00

This is what I said to B today when running around the house in a flurry. He asked me if that was a line from the movie, which it's not. And I'm not really sure why I said that, except that's the way I feel these days.

As I mentioned previously, I've recently taken some time off of freelancing to just be home and as a result, I've realized just how disorganized the last year has made us. I was using up almost all of my extra time to work or rest from working (and when you work hard, you just want to wallow in laziness afterward), and thus, my file cabinet was neglected, budgets were forgotten, and special projects with Ava were few and far between.

I don't like living like that. AT. ALL. Look at 'ole MP up there, too. She doesn't like it, either. So, as a result, we're spring cleaning early, and I've been making a Home Management Notebook that houses our family calendar, daily to-do lists, my cleaning schedule, a Bible reading plan, prayer list, A's preschool announcements, travel and special outing plans , and budget stuff. I loooove the computer in a major way, but sometimes, it helps to have everything written down on that stuff called paper. Remember that? Now it's easy to contain paper clutter when it comes into the house, because it either goes in the notebook or gets trashed. My daily schedule has changed too, thanks to Inspired to Action, a motivating website with an ebook that discusses how to get up early in the morning. We all know that's not my forte, but her plan is really motivating. As of now (and it's been like this for awhile, just with the planning modifications), my routine goes something like this...

--alarm goes off 1 hour or so before A wakes up
--coffee in hand, I spent some moments reading the Bible, praying and journaling
--then I address my master to-do list in the notebook, pick a few things off of it to do, and make an index card with that list.
--I add my dinner plans to the card (I meal plan every Sunday afternoon) so I know what needs to be defrosted, picked up at the store, etc.
--I consult my cleaning schedule so that I know what needs to be washed and cleaned. It helps to divide all of your types of laundry into specific days (Monday- darks, Tuesday- lights, Wednesday- towels, Thursday-jeans, etc.) so you don't feel overwhelmed and chained to the house with the simple chore of "do the laundry." I write all of that on the index card. I either leave the card on the bar in the kitchen or put it in my jean pocket. This index card idea is not mine--it's Kat's from her e-book (which is free, by the way).
--at some point, A wakes up--sometimes before I'm finished, sometimes after. If it's after, I jump in the shower to get ready before she gets up. Getting this done early makes the day so. much. easier.
--I definitely want to add some exercise in the morning when it warms up.;)

With a cleaning schedule, my house says somewhat presentable, although there's nothing like a clean house after a few concentrated hours of cleaning, but, truthfully, I don't get any concentrated hours like that anymore. If I do, I'm sure as heck not going to spend them cleaning.

Here are some great resources to get you started on your notebook! And, for the record, you can do this even if you're not a stay-at-home mom. It's a great way to get organized!

Household Notebook print-outs from Organized Home--a slew of calendar pages, and other stuff. Plus, they are cute.

Donna Young's household print-outs--not as cute, but lots of options.

Home Sanctuary's Make Your Own Cleaning Schedule print-out --I have a schedule I made a few years ago, but it needs some updating based on our new home. This is a great one. She even gives you an example of a stay-at-home mom's.

Hope Chest of Wisdom's House Management Folder --she gives examples of file categories and even includes a picture of her notebook. I love seeing pictures of how people do this--don't you wish I had done that for you? Oops.

Simple Mom's Downloads -downloads for your notebook, including a Preschoolers' Chore Chart. This is next on my list to do! Simple Mom is one of my favorite home management websites. Go ahead and follower her--you won't regret it.

Bible-reading plan -- I really like how this plan is laid out in daily genres. I can't tell you how many times I've set out to read the Bible all the way through or in a year, and Leviticus just ruins it.

Revive Our Hearts 31 Biblical Virtues to Pray for Your Children

Revive Our Hearts 31 Days of Praying for Your Husband

There it all is! Do you have a system for your home? What do you do?

If you make a household notebook using these links, please let me know in the comments. Mary Poppins would be so proud of us.

high points as bullets

2010-01-12T19:44:00.005-06:00

Hello, friends.

I'm sorry I've been quiet lately. Truthfully, I've started a few exhaustive blog posts and then got discouraged of the amount of things I wanted to explain or detail. So, I'm just going to hit the big points.

Here they are

--I am taking a break from freelancing (yay!) What had consumed all of my extra time just finally ran me into the ground. Like really, really ran me into the ground--I was getting sick because of the stress I was carrying around. I thought a month off would cure it, but I finally had to be honest with myself that I needed more than that. What a relief not to be working two jobs that are both exhausting.

--A has had a cough for a month and a half that won't away. She's taken asthma medicine that didn't help and finally, today she had an X-ray to learn that she has a virus in her lungs. Her doctor is thinking breathing treatments are next up.

--Our house isn't put together yet because I have somehow let my pickiness spill over into home decor (surely you're not surprised though) and cannot decide where I want what. B has been a gem to paint wall after wall of pretty colors and put multiple holes in the wall until I'm finally satisfied.

--Speaking of paint, we're on our fourth coat of blue in A's room. Long story short, "color match" is not as reliable as you would think, if you want a non-Lowe's paint color mixed at Lowe's, your second gallon of paint (you're painting light blue over an olive wall after all) has to be mixed in the SAME mixer at the SAME Lowe's, and if I may be so bold, it needs to be on at the SAME day at the SAME time you were in there last. Sounds extremely confusing, right? I felt like it, too when I was first told this and looked so perturbed for so long that the good paint people at Lowe's handed me two free gallons of paint just to stop asking questions like, "So, color match....I mean that should mean that they match, right?" and "No, I know it's not a Lowe's paint, but the paint color in the first gallon doesn't match the second gallon." I guess it pays to be dumbfounded.

--B and I made a couple of New Year's Resolutions to make some healthier meals (living in Alabama was where I fell in love with Southern cooking), but then, I opened this present up at my parents'.

And that was the end of that resolution.

And I think that's it for the high points. I want to be back blogging more often. But, for now, I'm off to make this.

Please don't tell any English teachers that the book I'm tearing up is Love in the Time of Cholera. I think I'd like it better in this state, anyway.;)

so it stuck, too.

2009-12-30T13:35:00.007-06:00

So sorry for a belated update, but as it turned out, the snow stuck too! We actually had a white Christmas!

A. and B. in the front yard when it started falling on Christmas Eve day.

Most of us napped that afternoon blissfully unaware than even more had accumulated.

My front door on Chistmas Day

Looking inside

Yup, it's definitely cold outside (for Texas anyway), but fortunately, we've got lots of new things inside to entertain us.

Happy New Year, everyone!

What's stuck

2009-12-24T13:09:00.005-06:00

Whispers of snow are actually falling on my rooftop today, and it is just blissful inside. I don't want to jump ahead and say, "idyllic," but I might. I could just gobble up my little Christmas girl, even though she pressed play dough on the front door's glass in her frustration that daddy had left once again for church. I let it go because it is tough to celebrate a special time sans daddy--for any child, really. To her joy, though, he did return a mere hour and a half later to escort her out into the snow. We sat in the garage with the door up, she buried into my coat....and we all watched it. The snow, falling on ground that seemed to zap it away. No "sticking," as we Texans say. The snow didn't stick today, but there are things that do.

Five years ago today we were in the middle of a terrible ice storm, driving 30 miles per hour from Kentucky to Texas. Car after car passed us in confidant speeds we wouldn't dare. Five minutes later, we saw them again, only this time they were buried in snow on the side of the road. I cried twice on that trip. The first was in fear when I watched my husband slip out on the slippery road next to a mountain to scrape off the ice that had blasted us blind upon entering the interstate. The second was in frustration after traveling for the entire morning to not even make it out of the state.

We stopped at a Walmart to buy De-Icer, and as B sprayed and scrubbed outside, I sniffed and whimpered inside. What were we doing? We had so far to go. When we finally made it home, the Tahoe looked like it had been through another world. We were tired and in need of a good shower after wearing the same clothes for two days. Fortunately, we were still in tact and bearing gifts--and even cranberry bread!--which I could not help thinking might have been our meals had we gotten stranded like so many other cars.

A year ago today, we were trekking back to Texas again, only this time, it was from Alabama. We followed the stream of gift-packed cars with our own, only ours was full of everything we owned. B drove a moving truck, my amazing mother-in-law drove a car, and I was packed in another with Ava and all her essentials. I didn't cry then, but perhaps because I did not have anything left after saying goodbye to our first home the night before. I did not expect it to hurt so bad, leaving the home I loved and where I brought my child home for the first time. I was so fearful of the unknown in front of us in Fort Worth, and I knew it was because the unknown had been scary before. This was the moment where my faith stretched until it was no longer recognizable....so much so I started to forget why we had entered into this ridiculous career patch. However, In God's grace and mercy, He made this unknown even better than I could have imagined.

And so, we praise God today for the adventures behind us. Each year passes in our marriage and we shake our heads in wonder of how we made it through it all in one piece. My first line of love to B on an anniversary card last month was, "This one was a dozy, wasn't it?" The stillness of the snow and little challenges today remind me that there have been scarier things behind us in years past, and we made it through. I think of Mary and Joseph, perhaps looking back on their Eve of Christ's birth together and remembering that they made it through to the next day. All the other Christmas Eves could now be peaceful and still. The world rests and waits to remember again of the mercy that came that idyllic, imperfect Christmas day. He saw us through, fulfilled it all, and gave us more Christ(mases) thereafter than we could ever deserve.

for a simple christmas.....

2009-12-18T11:02:00.003-06:00

...do yourself a favor and make Cinnamon Honey Spread for friends and family members! It's so, so easy.

Here's the rundown of how to make it, thanks to Darcy:

4 oz Ball Canning Jars (making 5-6 jars)
2 Sticks Softened Butter
1 Cup Powdered Sugar
1 Cup Honey
2 Teaspoons Ground Cinnamon

Mix all of the ingredients using your mixer until the consistency is smooth. Some people in the blogosphere use their wisk attachment, but I just used my regular handheld mixer and it worked fine (mostly because I don't have a fancy mixer with said wisk attachment). The easiest way to get it in the canning jars is to spoon the mixture into a ziploc bag, cut off a corner, and pipe it in.

A note on purchasing the canning jars...I looked at Walmart and Target for these, but the only place I found them was Ace Hardware.

Enjoy!

because it's happening.

2009-12-14T14:08:00.004-06:00

When is it too much?....The sharing, blogging, and capturing of your life. When will you be sitting in a job interview where someone brings up a particularly raw blog post of yours that was written ten years ago and ask you about it? Where are these pieces of my life that I write about really going? Will they live longer than me? Floating in some kind of internet purgatory?

These are thoughts that keep me from blogging. I am afraid that the term, "over-sharing" may including blogging in general, and so I keep quiet. I protect myself...my family...my future jobs by not saying anything at all. But, author Frederick Buechner eloquently puts it all in perspective in The Sacred Journey when he writes:

"Listen. Your life is happening. You are happening."

So, really...who cares? Who cares that you share, granted you are not hurting or defaming someone else in the process? Who cares that people know you through this medium? You are happening, so you might as well let us in on it, too.

With that said, I'm linking my most recent publication at Ungrind....one that makes me want to shrink away from the "publish post" button on Blogger, but here it is. Me and my life, we are happening, after all.

Cry Baby

it's beginning to look a little like....

2009-11-28T17:43:00.003-06:00

....HOME! With Thanksgiving, my birthday, an in-laws' anniversary party, and being a little under the weather (ugh, head colds are the worst), it seems like it's taking for-evah to get our new home situated. And most the time I'm just stumped on how to make it all fit! My thought process goes a little like this...

"Simplify, simplify, simplify--hey I need this!--where do I put it?--it can be jammed here--or under the bed--oh, there's no room--how about here?--i can just keep the door closed--but perhaps it's a hazard now--hmmm--oh, great, now where is this other thing going to go?"

*sigh*

I'll be back soon with some pictures.

As soon as I find the camera cord.

It's probably under the bed.

on perspective

2009-11-21T21:13:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, i need little (or massive) tweaks of my perspectives. Here are some good ones.

What Christmas can look like for your family.

There are a lot worse things than debt.

Secret giving is reward-receiving. (I am sad that this blogger may shut down this amazing project!)

black shutters, ya'll.

2009-11-05T07:15:00.001-06:00

The leaves are changing, and so are a few things in my life. First, and most exciting, is that we're moving into a new house! Not much more room, but B and I joke that we're so very Euro and only need a small space anyway. Riiiight. But the truth is that I saw this house and couldn't get it out of mind. Pie crust border below the roof and black shutters--oh, my friends, I can't tell you how much I love black shutters. I always find myself looking at a house with the potential of adding black shutters. Anyways, all the darling perks of this house--the porch in the back, the backyard, the garage, the neighborhood park two blocks away--all of this has clouded the reality of the fact that I'm not exactly sure how all of our stuff is going to fit in it when all is said and done. My plan when B says crazy things like, "pick which side table you want," or "one of these chairs has to go," I will simply slip out to the front and look at the shutters.

But, as I've said before, less space means a slant toward the simple life. I'm all for that, especially when I get to have a month or so off from freelancing. I'm currently editing a 30 chapter book with roughly 30 different authors and it's due in two weeks. Around the same time it's due, we get the keys to our new place. And I'm hosting a baby shower that week. *deep breaths* Black shutters, black shutters, black shutters....

Are you Christmas shopping yet? I'm trying to get ahead of the game, but keep getting caught on these sites where I try to buy presents for myself. No worries, a quick slap of the hand, and I'm back to where I need to be. But not before I bookmark them to share with you!

Enjoy!

Shabby Apple-- Shabby Apple is gaining in its popularity, so you probably know about it and the amazing dresses! Vintage-looking, feminine, and classic--love,love, love.

This one is gorgeous--causal, but you can dress it up.

Love this one too--so very Mad Men. Sometimes I wish my job required me to wear adorable things like this instead of lounge pants and a cami (I know I'm lucky, I know.....)

This trend of bib necklaces--I admit, I'm usually one to laugh at trends and then a few months later I'm wearing them. But this trend, I loved as soon as I spotted one of these kind of necklaces in Anthropologie.

An inexpensive version could be this at is Thistletree on Etsy, who has such lovelies as this for a mere $15

I'm loving all these embellishment pieces I'm seeing. You can just hold onto your basic, classic pieces and embellish away!

And of course I wouldn't leave you without some inspiring home decorating pictures from one of my fav blogs, Life in the Fun Lane. If you don't have a bulk of free time, don't click on that link. Because you'll find amazing pictures of Holly's house, like this

or this

and check out her little girl's room! (Whose name is Wren, which is a serious consideration on our "naming children that do not exit yet" list)

Has white never looked more gorgeous to you? Holly also has an online store where she sells the furniture she refurbishes. I wish she didn't live in Canada or I'd be snatching up some of that stuff!

Okay, that's enough for now. Enjoy!

2009-11-01T13:40:00.002-06:00

A new article of mine is up on Ungrind today, The Butterfly Effect. Here's an excerpt.

My eyes strain to open as I push through to complete the butterfly stroke to the other end of the pool. However, there's too much churn in the water created by my young arms, as well as from the wave that keeps overwhelming me. I finally stop, emerge heaving, and, while treading water, I exclaim to my teacher in my 10-year-old awe, "That is hard!"

Almost 20 years later, my eyes struggle to open again, and although I'm not underwater, it certainly feels like it. Her tiny newborn, raspy cry has begun yet again. My husband stirs in his sleep next to me, as his fatherly subconscious has sensed her need, too. My mind directs my body when it yells "Get up!", but my body does not listen. It is tired and weak. I remember previous -- namely, childless -- sleepless nights and races run, and confirm once again, that nothing compares to this new kind of "hard."

Click here to read more....

two places at once

2009-10-16T15:54:00.005-05:00

One of my posts is being featured over at Ungrind's blog today. Check it out as well as all the amazing articles that are up weekly at Ungrind. I was just telling the editor, Ashleigh, the other day that the content has been rocking lately. I love reading real stories of faith, don't you?

stream of letting go

2009-10-10T15:52:00.007-05:00

We are flipping our daughter's room today to a "big girl's room," and it feels like I'm turning the page of a plastic, storyless baby's book to the next page of a bright, exciting pop-up book. What was stationary and pudgy, like chunky baby legs are now grown up, skipping, running little girl's legs. Pastels are cranked up into bold hues. What was blurry with deep blue, infant eyes is now clear with her sparking green ones. She has choices now--one of the most important being, does she use her powers for good, or for evil? I'm hoping her surroundings help stimulate the goodness I know is there. Reading in bed (learning), hosting tea for her little stuffed friends (serving), and letting her thoughts run over the day's event before drifting off to peaceful sleep (praying and meditating). A room to yourself is such a luxury. Quietness is such a indulgence. Independence in a 12' x 13' room is a whole new responsibility. These are some of the things I'm actively giving my daughter today. I offer her small, bite-size pieces of the world as my mothering duty, but letting her have them is a whole other issue.

God, how it must have ached your heart to let us grow up-- to give us choice.

2009-09-17T13:48:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, I don't have a lot to say here because I'm reading so many awesome words out there. But you should have to suffer in boredom that I have the same ole post up for a week! So here are some goodies....

A writer at the New Yorker writes about who we are vs. where we come from. Can you really ever be separated from the two?

Laugh, Kookaburra

Ann at A Holy Experience writes about hope. I badgered and begged B to read this post last week (in which he loved too), so I though I'd do the same to you. Ready? Okay. Pretty, please? Seriously. Read it!

When You've Given Up All Hope

And finally, please skip on over to Sharone at The Grammar Wall of Shame. She somehow got lost on the Interweb one day and landed on my blog, commented, and now we're officially nerdy grammar friends. Her other blog is Zizzivvizz, which is equally clever. I only know Sharone in the virtual world, which is probably best, because I somehow think we would be particularly obnoxious together in real life, perhaps in an English class laughing over Florentino's wussiness in Love in the Time of Cholera. (I'm kind of embarrassed for him. Like, seriously, man up already.)

This post is particularly hilarious, detailing The Christian Science Monitor. And I think that's a good place to end this post, especially since my last sentence was a dangling participle that I'm positive made Sharone's skin crawl.

I'm on Day 1 of potty-training, so my posts may be sparse for the next week or so. Or not. I never know.

If you want more of my links throughout the week, check out my tumblr page.

2009-09-09T14:05:00.013-05:00

We're back from beautiful Napa valley, where, among the clinking of wine glasses and the beautiful scenery, two people were wed! My brother married an amazing girl whom I'm not only blessed to know, but proud to welcome into the family.

I had been so nervous about going, mostly because I was afraid that this little blessing would turn into a little more than a disaster on the plane. She was an angel and brought us pride and joy when we received compliments on her behavior from both the row in front and in back of us on the plane ride. Here she is, sassying it up before takeoff. I tried my best to get her to look out the window, but she wasn't that interested. No worries, I wasn't, either.

I was born in Cali, and somehow it feels very comfortable there to me the two times I've been back. It's a lot like Texas in its casual, friendly attitude, but even more laid back. B fit in so well with his California coolness, and the coolness of the weather had me hooked.

No wonder, I thought.

No wonder people love it here.

No wonder people feel like they can be themselves.

No wonder people want to be the best versions of themselves with these things around.

My brother and his new wife asked me to write something for their ceremony. I was honored and terrified. I wanted to give them what they wanted, but at the same time, let them choose something better if I missed the mark. A month or so ago, I emailed Emily three options to choose, one of which was titled, "A Note from the Architect," and credited to "Author Unknown." She and Jeff picked that one, and glory be, but the author was indeed myself. Isn't it fun how these things work out?

California felt and looked a little like paradise, but so can other places....like, maybe, the here and now. It's so much easier to wish for more and better--I am so easily caught up in that muck of lies. Really, paradise is the one that you can find in your own life and not someone else's. It's home, and if people are loved without limits and things are labored for prayerfully, it may cross someone's mind to think...

No wonder.

No wonder people love it here.

No wonder people feel like they can be themselves.

No wonder people want to be the best versions of themselves with these things around.

A Note from the Architect (copyright Alison Frenzel)

Your marriage, a tower in the sky today, but perhaps a cozy cottage tomorrow, will be the only home you will ever know. The journey here may have taken years, but now, it's only a breath of "I do's" and a threshold away. The foundation is stronger than you expect, but that is because you cannot expect today what it can withstand tomorrow. Wipe the chaos of the world at the door, but feel free to bring your baggage inside. Kindle the hearth daily with gentle truth and frequent embraces. Open the windows of opportunity to bless others, whether in shelter, rest, or a new life entirely. Decorate, renovate, and restore its beauty after years have aged it beyond recognition. And lastly, never forget that although some homes fall down, are set afire, or are washed away, there are those that remain. The difference is that those homes--like yours--are not only built with love, but filled with it, too.

Welcome home.

my favorite characters pick up garbage.

2009-08-13T13:40:00.011-05:00

Have you read your book lately?

No, I'm talking about whether you've written one or not; I'm talking about the one that's written about you.

Your story--your final draft.

There is beauty in the Mondays, the sadness, the setting, and the people who love or betray you. It's all your story, and though there are always second chances, they don't always happen. Today is today, as yesterday was the same. The minutes fly by like a odometer on 100 mph, and sadly, you cannot run the car backward to get them back like Cameron did in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. They happened, just like the harsh words you spoke, the last hug you gave before they died, and the embarrassing snort that crept into your laughter.

It can be overwhelming to think about what's already flown by in your life, once you've thought about it. And of course, those minutes you used in which to think about it are gone too.

But your story truly can be beautiful....it could even be a book. Rockbottoms have mountaintops, prayers are answered, and, of course, it all could take an unforeseen twist in a blink of an eye.

But what about those other people in your life? Not the main characters of your family and friends, but those whom you've thought as extras. Those whom are acquaintances and kind of walk around in the background as you take the stage.

They actually have stories, too--and I sometimes forget this.

Thanks to my favorite "extra" in my life, I've been reminded of it, and he's slowly creeping in as a main character. His name is John, and he's the maintenance man, a.k.a., Mr. Fix It, at the church across the street. His booming voice always sends Little Bitty running for cover behind me, and it doesn't make matters better that his laugh is just as loud when he sees her do this. He's taken care of us these past seven months--everything from getting the dead cat from underneath our home to warning us beforehand that a volleyball court was going to be put in the backyard (What? I didn't tell you about this? Maybe because it deserves its own post...) to scolding his intern who didn't edge our walkway well enough. John has always taken a special interest in our lives, maybe because he, too, lived in our tiny home with his wife and only daughter. He complains to me while staring at the knotty pine walls when he's fixing something broken in our home that he never wanted to buy a house and move from here. He's told me we can't paint the pine, but I suspect it's only because he loves it. John somehow both loiters and hurries out of my home, noticing my decorative changes, but barreling over the toys in his beeline on the door. He teases me that his wife picked out the horrible white flooring we have in our kitchen that never looks clean, no matter how much I mop. Somehow, it helps to have Mrs. John to blame for that--it really is horrible. He also confides in me about how his now-thirteen-year-old daughter got her first bikini this summer and how she's "developed" (complete with hand motions, thankyouverymuch), and I listen, first, because I love John, second, because I'm throughly enjoying the angst written all over his concerned face of her "developments," and third, because I can't wait to tell the entire thing to B later, complete with the hand motions, of course.

A few months ago, I was chatting with him in the church office about someone on our street, whom John has known for awhile.

"I knew him in seminary," he told me.

"What?"

"In seminary." He smirks at me.

"You went to seminary?" I carefully say as not to completely blow my cover of astonishment.

But he sees it anyway.

"Yes, I went to seminary around the corner. I have a Masters in Theology," he pretends to look for something to avoid my face before saying the rest. "And now I'm a janitor."

I suddenly went into writer's mode and saw him differently. I saw his story. And it was a good one.

"But that's what a minister does, John."

"What?" he asks me, shuffling through papers on a desk.

"They pick up other people's garbage."

Surprised and amused, he stopped what he was doing to look at me before his booming laughter followed me out of the church.

Something else followed me too. The reminder that people are eventually redeemed and rewarded for the pain they feel and the garbage they endure. The boring parts may just be filler for the exciting ones. The worst of times are only that because you've had the best of times, too. Villains can change, and Love truly can, and does, prevail through it all.

That's why I like writing. I like reminding people of that. We forget so easily that there are happy endings, and they really do happen...eventually. And for those times when they haven't, I'm starting to wonder if it's because we haven't let the Author do some "development" with our lives.

Like, perhaps, picking up all of our garbage.

"I come that they may have life, and have it to the fullest." -John 10:10b

noise

2009-08-11T13:21:00.005-05:00

Lately, I've sat down with Little Bitty to read books before bedtime and she points to the same one, over and over. And, cruel as you may think me, I decline to read it to her then. You see, it's a push-the-button-and-a-song-plays book about Noah's ark, and, as she's been reminding me after hearing it so much from my mouth,

" 'Dis book is too noisy, Mommy."

And noisy it is. Which is why I don't read it when we're trying to get our tiny molar-getting-no-sleeping daughter to bed. Her soul and body need calming and rest before being coaxed to sleep, and thus, the book does not have a place in that moment.

Yesterday, B took A for a run in the stroller before dinner, and I relished in the sound of silence while they were gone. I drank it up--and then realized that I too must have been letting noise get to me lately.

It's not a songbook, but it's a myriad of other things. Worries, housework, work, plans, my phone, twitter, facebook, money, yardwork, back pain, and *gasp* my blog.

It's becoming too loud, all this noise.

I have thoughts of just turning it off sometimes. Deleting accounts, especially...just with a click of a button. But I'm afraid it might be too quiet then. I'm afraid I'm miss it. I'm afraid that I might then realize how much time I've spent doing these noisy things and how they aren't important.

Can't I just turn the sound down?

Somehow, I don't think it works that way.

B returned from that run last night and softly whispered, "we're home...." when he and Bitty rolled in. I watched him grin at me and pull open the stroller shade. There she was, fast asleep at the wee hour of 6 pm. Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, though.

Nothing is more restful than our Father's footsteps next to us.

2009-08-04T14:54:00.000-05:00

I should have known better when she told us about the deer.

We had escaped scraped knees and toddler tantrums for just a few days at a resort-like setting overlooking Possum Kingdom Lake. I did not know possums were royalty, but if this is where all their kings and queens reside, I believe it. The scene from our balcony was enough to distract us from the 100 degree heat.... which was what L. was doing when she snuck out for a morning run. After a few miles, she slipped into the pool for some relief and did a few laps. She then emerged at the edge that looked out onto the lake to see it.

A deer. Looking right back at her.

As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. Psalm 42:1, 2

She told us all about it when she came back, even though I struggled to listen, bleary-eyed. Sleeping late was not happening; I had felt well-rested and unable to go back to sleep at 7 a.m. We were almost as surprised to hear about as she was as when she saw it, and we remarked back with "That's amazing!" and "I can't believe that!" and even, "I still can't believe you went for a run on our vacation."

But I should have known.

We packed up our things to skip down to the very same pool later that morning and enjoyed the beautiful act of doing nothing for hours and hours on end. Had the bending short trees we passed known too? Was the bridge of rocks I carefully stepped over aware of it too?

I really should have known better.

On our last day, we packed up ourselves and paused for a prayer on the balcony. One was willing, another was tired, and the other was distraught. But we still prayed together, unaware that creation was probably moving even closer into our little huddle. Perhaps it knew what was about to happen.

What became a closing prayer turned into a request for more...which then perked listening, loving hearts that petitioned. The light became bright. Breaths were gulped. Eyes widened. Hearts beat faster. Birds sang. The wind moved only when prayers left our lips. The Spirit was not slight, and seemed to fall on us like a heavy wool blanket. We were left fumbling for reality, although knowing that this reality was the only one we had ever known.

I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging tides sweep over me -Psalm 42:7

We skipped down to the pool again, this time to play where the deer had panted. We didn't need a drink anymore, either. We rounded the bend, and I saw who was in the water.

I should have known.

It wasn't the adults, for they were already bored and only lounged by pool, scrolling on their devices and wishing they were always somewhere else. Children, though, splashed and pretended boisterously in the water. I shamelessly jumped in too, and the submersion was a welcome Baptism. We waded, as the younger ones were somehow drawn to us, caught in an invisible current. Deep in their pretending, they barely noticed me smile at them. But I knew why they were there. A reminder of the change that always happens when things go His way. I came as tired wife and mother a few days before and left as little girl that afternoon. Early that first morning, He had come to transform my thirst. And didn't leave until I willingly leaped into the water for the quench.

It wasn't your typical vacation. But I really should have known it wouldn't be.

But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing his songs, praying to God who gives me life-Psalm 42:8

This post is part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.

my blog isn't a baby anymore.

2009-07-30T14:51:00.004-05:00

I had a feeling....so I checked.

And it is, indeed, my blog-o-versary, ya'll! It's been one year of this is not a rough draft! Here's my first post.

I have enjoyed writing this blog so much, although it's not the first one I've had. I know, I know. I am no blog virgin.

In having this blog, I really couldn't write it without you.

Seriously!

I have written a lot of articles that have never seen the light as email attachments or stories that never leave my journal. And frankly, sometimes it's not worth it to tweak wording or look for the themes in life if no one's reading.

What I'm trying to say is, thank you.

Thank you for wandering over here when you could be someone else. Thank you for commenting even when you don't have time. Thank you for reading even if you choose not to comment. Thank You for making me blush when we see each other in real life and you say, "I read your blog!"

Having you here is just another kick in the pants for me--I have these lofty writing dreams waiting in the wings, and I really need to get out there.

In the "getting out there" regard, I had Sharnee make this adorable button to the right. In celebration, can I beg and plead with you to put my button your blog? This is only if you enjoy reading my words and want to send other people over here. When clicking on it, it will send you straight here. And I promise to give you more, updated posts to welcome your clicking-ness. And maybe some cookies. Maybe.

Here's how to add the button if you have Blogger...

1. Copy and paste the html that's in the scroll box. The picture above the scroll box is what will go on your blog.

This is what will show up on your blog:

2. Go to your Blogger dashboard.
3. Click on "Layout."
4. On your "Page Elements" page (what you see after you click on Layout)
5. Choose "Add a Gadget."
6. Out of the choices given, choose "HTML/JavaScript."
7. Paste the copied HTML you got from my scroll box in the Content area. You can also label this with the Title option. Like maybe, "My fabulous, amazing friend, Alison!" or something close to that. Definitely use a positive adjective, preferably two.
8. Click Save.
9. Arrange where you want my button on your page.
10. Click Save in the upper right corner of the Page Elements page.
11. You can then click preview to see it or just go about your merry way!
12. If you've indeed added it, let me know! I would be honored.

Also, I would love to provide a tutorial of how I made the button (sans the art part) if you are designy and want to create your own. Let me know in the comments if you'd like that as well.

I love you guys! Thanks again!

imitating Someone else

2009-07-29T17:24:00.001-05:00

If you want a true, albeit exaggerated, mirror of yourself, just hire a two-year old.

Little Bitty will squeal, "Mommeeeeeeeee...I missed youuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!" when I pick her up from Parents' Day Out. I asked B why she does that.

Because you do, he answered.

No, I don't.

Yes, you do. he grinned at me.

And, in fact, I do.

She's a sponge of all my quirks and then some, the "some" mostly being jingles from television shows. She's learned all the words to the Beatles, "Rocky Raccoon," Jason Mraz's, "I'm Yours," and thankfully, a few "Jesus Songs," as we call them around here.

So, why can't she memorize Scripture as well?

She can. And she has!

So far, we've gotten two verses down, and *ahem* mommy is even more excited that she's learning these verses herself.

I've approached this memorization two different ways. The first, I learned from Tiffany, JD's wife, which is saying the verse in a singsong voice. This is how we memorized Psalm 121:1, 2 .

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

I would say it when we're riding in the car, coloring, or doing whatever. She picked this up really, really fast. Maybe even faster than *ahem* mommy.

The other method I used was drawing symbols that represented the words of the verse. Ava has been telling me lately about birds (the bird in the sky, mommy!), so I found a verse that talked about "birds in the air." I have sad, sad, sad drawing skills, but I drew it all out and posted near her little table and chairs.

This is Matthew 6:26:
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

We have memorized it this way for better two-year-old understanding (as much as she can understand, anyway):

Look at the birds in the air!
They don't plant.
They don't harvest.
They don't store food in barns.
Our Heavenly Father feeds them.
And how much more does He love you!

Puleease don't laugh at my drawing. Okay, you can laugh, but only because it's pretty doubtful that I can hear you.

This is a more complicated verse, but when we say it, I point to the pictures. She doesn't get it exactly right everytime, but she makes up her own version. When we see a bird outside, I will point to it and say the first part of the verse, "Look at the bird in the air!" She will usually say the rest to me. I'm praying that these will be written on her heart, no matter where she goes in life.

And finally, a tweet from Amy directed me to Songs for Saplings - cute, folk music where the singers (along with kids) sing through Scriptures using the alphabet ("a" is for "Keep me in the apple of your eye."-Psalm 17:8). I received the CD in the mail today and played one of the songs a mere three times before Ava picked up the verse.

Our children are amazing!

from the parsonage

2009-07-23T22:21:00.007-05:00

update: The Clutch link is fixed. Thanks for catching that, Matt!

Being married to a pastor is unique. There are the crazy parts--like our Christmases and Easters, which could be compared to an accountant's tax season. It's easy to catch people looking at you a little differently when you've admitted your relationship to the youth minister. You know who you can be real with, and those would rather you weren't. The Church can sometimes become the other woman, but then, in another moment, she's your child, for whom you want the best.

But the way I like to look at it is having backstage passes to God's work. I can't tell you how encouraging it is to have my husband come home with news of someone whose life has changed. I used to be able to be there with B, praying and loving our church members through event after church service after Bible study. But now I have my own little disciple, who goes to bed early and needs her Sundays a little more slow-paced. So I stay home from things a lot, althugh I have loved this season too, as different as it is. But I also love, love seeing the moving work of the Holy Spirit, even if it's just hearing about it.

I will admit, at first, it was scary. I had envisioned this "role" of a pastor's wife being just as romantic as it looked. I mean, I assumed it wasn't--but NOT to its true extent. I soon found out how scary faith is. It didn't come with a bow and a happy ending...at least not at first. It's like walking in a fog, and only until it clears can you see reality....and how far you've come. I thought I'd have the company of my spiritual heroes, but now I realize they were probably just as terrified at first as I've been. When I read Band of Brothers a few years ago, a quote resonated with me when one of the men said, "I almost wanted to thank Hitler for starting the war so I could meet these men." I'm definitely not thanking any assumed dictator, but this war we're waging here on earth makes me even more motivated for wholeness of the Church. The wounds and chaos that have been reeked on mine and any other person's life in spiritual leadership is just like anyone else's. But when we see or experience healing for ourselves--we know it can be done for everyone else. Why else would we take on such a strange career?

I'm such a work in progress--that's incredibly obvious. I often feel inadequate and have left my own and anyone else's expectations at the door...but that's the only way I can function. Anything good in me is from God, and frankly, I'm too exhausted in general to fake some weird kind of perfection anyway.:)

I love meeting other pastor's wives--I see the same knowing look in their eyes--married to the ministry and so much more! Clutch, a blog that connect's other pastors' wives, will be referring any DFW pastor's wives here at This is Not a Rough Draft in hopes that we can connect for a dinner or event that I've agreed to help host. So, if you're in the DFW area, or close, *coughKyliecough*, please leave me a message in the comments with your contact info! I think they'll be referring PWs here on Sunday or sometime next week, but hopefully, it will be soon!

And, if you aren't a pastor's wife, hug yours and let her be herself. She'll love you for it.

2009-07-22T21:15:00.003-05:00

The other day, a friend asked me about rabbits.

What about them? I asked.

What do you do with them?

A childhood owner of two lop-eared bunnies, I knew there was only one thing to tell him. It didn't matter where you put them, where their cage was. There is, truly, only one thing that they want.

To reproduce.

If they don't get the opportunity to do this, they are grumpy...well, angry, really. I told him.

He had no response. Because, really, what do you say to this? Perhaps he was thinking of how he could meet this need with a mood-lighting and a bunny pimp. Or, since they are two of them already, perhaps they have all they need. I didn't want him to elaborate. And he didn't, thankfully.

As for humans, we also get frustrated at a myriad of things we want or need that we may not have at the moment. Life insurance, a clean house, a reliable car, current photographs of our loved ones, sleep...feel free to add your own.

I was angry and irritable today, and at first, I could not pinpoint what it was. It wasn't any outside forces...it was me. I, like many others, have a need to create. Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I must create something.

I've gotten way too involved in other people's fashion. I've planned a detailed Academy Award party. I've taken pictures with my fancy schmancy camera. I've revamped lots of "this is how we always did it" professional systems. Created websites. Started two businesses. Facilitated design work. Wrote. and wrote. and wrote some more.

And, goodness, it just feels good to do those things. It's never a burden; it's always an indulgence.

And my spirit is stirring. My creativity is getting backed up, and it seems to be oozing out of my skin in protest. Think "A Time to Kill" where Ashley Judd, Matthew Mcconaughey--everyone in that movie--is just shiny with sweat.

My job, as much as it is a blessing editing business books in this economy, is dry. I suspect that my client with whom I'm on a retainer contract, reads my blog, but I know they understand me. They were even hesitant in the job interview because they thought their stuff would be too boring for me. Anything can be boring, though, and if only I could this creativity out in some shape or form, I'd feel a little better.

I'd get a little relief.

From the outside, we creatives certainly seem like a complicated lot, don't we? Our house gets messier faster than yours does, and other disciplines fall by the wayside. We appear flighty and dreamy. We overstay our welcome or steep you in awkward silence.

Do you understand now what we're dealing with here?

Arg.

just to let you know....

2009-07-15T16:38:00.004-05:00

...I am, in fact, alive. But definitely busy. I'm mostly dealing with a very challenging little girl who is battling sleep like a newborn (can we actually regress as far back as rocking her to sleep again? Why, yes. Yes, we can.) after arriving back from the most fabulous getaway trip ever without husband or kids with some of my sweetest friends who are also pastor's wives. The morning we returned home, my back started hurting horribly, and it turns out I have a pinched nerve. WHO comes back from vacation--rest, relaxation, zero stress--with a pinched nerve? That would be me. The woman who is rocking her 2 year old to sleep.

We're also in the middle of VBS this week at church, which is great fun, but really tiring. I am in charge of making sure the youth volunteers don't do something crazy, and I was even handed a very official name tag with the title, "Youth Bouncer" typed fondly on it. Little Bitty has not recovered from having mommy gone for almost a week, and so she's been throwing tantrums every time we leave the house....the kind where you feel like you're trying to catch and rope a cow. With a pinched nerve.

So, as you can see....I'm alive.

But just barely.

Hope to be back writing soon!

2009-07-06T15:33:00.009-05:00

Today at the bookstore, I bit my lip and committed literary blasphemy.

I, with the encouragement of my husband (I'm dragging him into this as an accomplice although he won't read it), bought "Pemberley Manor," a novel based on the "Pride and Prejudice's" Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy after they marry. I usually shy away from this type of book--an add-on by a modern writer who knows we also sigh at the "happily after ever" and yearn for more.

But is more always good for us?

I was perfectly satisfied by him telling Elizabeth that she "had bewitched him, body and soul." That was good enough for me. Close the book with a bang and insert swoon here. Please don't ruin the moment with anything more.

However, that's not when true love begins.

It begins, as Katie and I were discussing last week at lunch, at Year 7. Someone somewhere decided that Year 1 and Year 7 are the hardest years of marriage, and I may agree. Year 1 is fraught mostly with "Who are yous" in which we really begin get to know each other. And Year 7 is full of "Oh, so this is who you really ares," in which we learn the humanity of it all. That we aren't perfect. Our "happily ever afters" may easily become "hardly ever happys." The love that came so easily now comes as a choice.

I say all this in the frame of mind that I'm absolutely aware of the choice that my husband must make daily to love me...seven years after the "I do.". He knows the selfishness of my soul, my moodiness, and the very ungraceful, yet powerful, act of giving birth. I certainly can't fake any loveliness now. And yet, he chooses to love me all the same.

He, himself, is much easier to love; I'm sure of it. He out-serves me, submits to all my fears, no matter how how crazy they may be, and loves our daughter relentlessly. I could not help staring at him today with wifely wonder at the coolness that exudes from a motorcycle shirt, roughed up jeans, and aviator sunglasses that walks into a church to pay rent for his little family. He could be anywhere, working for anyone, having other women swoon all over him, and yet, he stays with us. He chooses to do this....everyday.

And, thus, I sometimes wonder about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy...if they found it hard to keep choosing love despite Mr. Darcy's aloofness and Elizabeth's dreaminess. Surely, it wasn't just a piece of cake after Jane Austen wrote, "The End."

I know it can't be.

And so, with the hope I am right, I bought the book.

2009-07-01T19:59:00.004-05:00

Ah, Facebook.

The high school reunion that never, ever ends--no matter how much you wish it would. But Facebook has mostly good sides, and one of the best is reconnecting with old friends. The past few days I've gotten to chat with my old high school friend and fellow writer, Blake, and it's been great to discuss words with someone else who writes them. I've also been in the midst of delivering a 300 page book for a client to the publishers, and today was D-day (delivery day). Sleepless nights and lots of coffee helped, and I'm so glad it's over for the time being. Now to think about my own stuff...at least for a few days, er maybe hours. In between preparing the manuscript to be sent, my conversation with him gave me a much needed mind break when I got to discuss my usual writing frustrations as well as recommend some of my recent favorite books. I've been thinking of these favorites and realized all of them have elements that I want to incorporate in my own personal writing.

The Kite Runner--You've seen me drool over Klahed Hosseini's pages before. The description is rich without being superfluous, and he ends his chapters with a statement that makes you want to read the next. A really, really hard book to put down. I also love reading about another culture, and the book follows a universal theme/story, which makes you like it even more.

Atonement--a story with a twist--my favorite! This one haunted me for days.

The Glass Castle--best opening line: "I was on fire." Also, it is baffling that this is a true story.

Perpetua--an account of a Christian martyr's life based on her diaries--one part story, the other part fact. A beautiful spiritual story, as well.

I'm not sure I know what to do with all of these thoughts....but I'm brainstorming...at least until the next project hits my inbox.

water in the front yard

2009-06-26T06:30:00.005-05:00

Since I shared with you about the boots I scored, I had to show these two pictures to you where she's wearing them. Bitty has fallen in love just as much as I have, and they are now becoming a regular accessory to her daily ensemble. I cannot begin to imagine how they will stink after this summer. These pictures were taken two nights ago when we stole outside to the front porch to eat popsicles and water the flowers, but soon, our evening became more about watering our little girl.

This was the beginning--I feel like I can hear her squeal in this pic!

And this is 10 minutes later. We lost the skirt, and she fully embraced the spray, like it was her best friend. There so many elements I love about this picture. First, her face is priceless. But so is my hubby's, who is obviously in love with his girl. Then there are the rays of sun in the water and the fact that this was taken in the front yard. Yes, we are that family. The one with the kid in the diaper in the front yard. Not to mention, our audience is the church across the street. Something about that makes me love it even more. Naked and unashamed.

Last evening was a rough night for us. I'm still reeling from it and don't want to hash it all out, but A choked on a piece of chip for some of the longest seconds I've ever lived through. All I do want to say right now is that we are cherishing our baby girl's life a little more now. I rocked her a little longer than necessary after we read books before bed. I greeted her in the morning with a smile. I also let God know in my moments alone this morning that I want to trust Him with the scary things in her life. Note that I said "want"--I sometimes envision gripping on to my love for her so tightly that someone would have to pluck each finger away like petals on a flower.

I'm working on this faith thing. I'm not going to pretend I have it all together, because that is a big disappointment waiting to happen. My life as a mother has changed everything. So many moms tell you how it will get easier when they get older. But in some sense, it also gets harder. The mistakes get bigger. The world gets friendlier, and not in a good way. If I dwell on it all for too long...well, let's just say I'm not going to dwell on it by even completing this sentence.

So what can I do?

My child's example above looks pretty good. Embrace this rush of love, knowing there's a Father on the other end who's enjoying this ride as much as I am. Live unashamedly in such a way that it whispers to you, "It's all real. He's who He says He is."

And, of course, wear cute shoes while doing it all.

when marketing goes to the dogs

2009-06-24T11:30:00.007-05:00

We definitely weren't looking forward to that first meeting. And when 2pm came around, we almost wished we could skip it altogether and work on our other, more interesting and corporatey clients.

"The heating and air conditioning company wants a new website," the owner of the small marketing firm where I worked said. "Should be simple--not a client we necessarily want above others, but, well, they are a client."

So, because we are good employees, although still bratty creatives who bemoan our assignments, the Art Director and I begrudgingly retreated out to the car and began the 30 minute drive into Lexington. When we got there, much was what I expected. The good-ole-boy demeanor of the CEO, the bland building, and the smell of hard work on the workers' uniforms.

All was what I expected. Except for one thing, and I couldn't ignore it.

The biggest Great Dane I had ever seen was also attending our meeting.

"This is Cody," Good Ole Boy said, slapping his back with such force that I was sure it would have injured a human being. Not Cody. He slowly turned toward his master with a look of boredom.

"Cody goes everywhere with me--he's always here."

"In the office?" I asked.

"Yup." Good Ole Boy smiled at me.

Shaking off the strangeness of it, we began the meeting with our usual questions about budget, brand, and expectations. I took notes, all the while praying that the pacing Cody would not interrupt it with his canine ways, such as sniffing others' nether regions or slobbering over our notes. Our meeting came to and end, and we shook hands, patted Cody's head, and began our drive back home.

Good Ole Boy's good-ole-ways had charmed us, though, and a conversation about a clever, professional heating and air-conditioning was sparked between Art Director and I. We thought of a retro motif, or even a superhero feel. Our minds were churning, and after a few moments I said,

"What about the dog?"

Art Director turned to me with the same wild look in his eye. He knew exactly what I was thinking. The last 20 minutes of the drive was spent enthusiastically planning an entire brand campaign centered around Cody. Our entrance into the doors of the firm, laughing and writing lists, was much different that when we left. Owner looked at us with an eyebrow raised, but when he heard our ideas, the least desired client on our list started working its way to the top.

Upon returning to the heating and air-conditioning company, Good Ole Boy greeted us politely, but seemed a little taken aback. Owner accompanied us this time, and we were all looking a little sharper than usual. Owner pulled out his laptop, while I pulled out my visuals as if they were ammunition. The next hour was spent persuading Good Ole Boy that he must--he absolutely MUST!--spend a quarter of a million dollars on our rebrand.

Charts were piled in front of him, along with pictures of stuffed Great Danes, dog treats with the company's logo for his workers to leave behind while out on a job, quotes for repainted trucks with Cody's likeness painted alongside the driver. Good Ole Boy looked overwhelmed, and Cody panted beside him, because, really, it must have made him tired even thinking about it, too. We proposed a photoshoot with Cody for the very next week, and told Good Ole Boy we were working on getting a cartoonist to draw his likeness for possible commercials as well.

Poor Good Ole Boy. He was somewhat excited about our creative endeavors, but was hesitant to spend the money or the time into our brand campaign. We launched a new website with a cartoon Cody sprawled next to the header a month later. After that, we worked with him for other aspects, but Good Ole Boy's commitment was waning.

Finally, Owner admitted what we had feared but suspected.

"I don't think (Good Ole Boy) wants to do this."

He was right, and we knew it. The heating and air-conditioning company was, no doubt, flattered by our creative efforts, but could not move past the bottom line. Good marketing can never work without the boost of the client. It's a running-in-pace metaphor--it sure looks and feels like you're going somewhere, but really, you're not.

It's been five years since I was a project manager at the firm, and a little while ago, I went to the heating and air-conditioning's website. It was, as I suspected. A heating and air-conditioning website. No Cody. And sadly, I heard from someone something that we had not accounted for in our brand campaign.

Cody had died.

A death of a pet is always sad, but I couldn't help but feel a giggle rise in my chest at the irony of it all. I couldn't believe we had missed the "what if" of this. What if we had received a check for the total amount of the campaign? What if we had shot the television commercial? Aired the radio commercials? Handed out the stuffed dogs? Put the Cody de-cals on the trucks?

And then.....he ended up dying!?

Good Ole Boy was undoubtedly heartbroken, but maybe another Great Dane is loafing next to him in the office. I hope so. We've all learned a lesson or two here. Good Ole Boy has learned to be leery of creatives. Art Director has learned to not spend so much time rendering a cartoon version of a dog. Owner has learned to mediate his employees who will easily waste hundreds of billable hours in brainstorming meetings.

And I have learned, that you must--you absolutely MUST!--consider that dogs die.

make the sale work for you: buying kids' clothes without losing money

2009-06-22T14:17:00.010-05:00

I have been at rockbottom. And it was on the floor of a Gymboree store on my hands and knees. Fortunately, I have been in the trenches in buying clothes for my daughter, so here I am, ready to teach them to you.

Let me stand up...er, back up. I used to view Gymboree as a store of the privileged. I'd visit every now and then when Bitty was an infant and flick the $19.50 price tag for a onesie away from me like it was poison. Who pays these prices? I would ask and then gaze at my child's cute, albeit cheaply made and disposable, outfit in her stroller.

I found myself in the store last year picking up some bows, and even then gasped at the total that ran across the cashier screen. For bows? I paid, and when my credit card was being run I could see them in my peripheral vision. The sale signs. I hadn't noticed them before, but not that it mattered. But then I also saw women lugging hanger upon hanger of clothes and walking around frantically.

Do you have Gymbucks to spend with us today? The cashier asked the next person in line.

Gymbucks? How strange--what is that, monopoly money?

I left the store that day with some adorable bows, but also with the curiosity for this little haven of children's clothes with it's own fiscal system. I interviewed my friends who smartly shopped this store and got the run down on how to get the Gymbucks, when to spend them, and how to stock up on clothes for next season.

By the next big sale, I was ready. I grabbed things for the next summer, and kept my total low. Upon exiting the store, I felt triumphant....I had a big bag, and I hadn't spent a lot. Other moms entering the store smiled approvingly at my loot. I felt like part of a club. We had beat the system. We could dress out children like a million bucks without spending it.

I was hooked. Bitty pranced to and from playdates with adorable, matching outfits. I invested also in Oxyclean to keep those pricey pieces clean. I started ironing her clothes, because why spend a lot if they were going to be wrinkled?

And then it was time for the next big sale. I knew about it before it was advertised. I lurked on Gymboree message boards, speculating when the sale would be advertised. I gave myself a budget, and got to the mall early before the sale. Other moms were there, too, and we all smiled politely at each other. Little did I know, that was the last time we would be "friends."

Upon entering the store, we scattered like mice. I flipped through sizes, dug through bins, and tried to talk myself out of anything that seemed pretty because it was on sale. Children were crying. Mothers held up outfits across the store to each other. It was then that I saw the store clerk pushing out a big cardboard box of leggings and tights. Myself and two other women descended on them, whispering, 99 cents???!! One of the women poured out all of the leggings in the middle the floor. What size are you looking for? she loudly asked at the woman beside her. I went through the other box causally, because, really, how many pairs of leggings do you need? But seeing the towering stack one had made, I apparently was wrong.

You needed them all. And in every color.

One of the woman migrated over to my box. If you find 5T in this, it's MINE! She barked at me. I drew back and blinked. Leggings. These were leggings. And tights. I backed slowly away from her grabby hands and wild eyes with a reasonable amount of leggings and tights for my child.

This is the moment I knew it was time to check out. And I don't mean just paying. I mean backing away from the potential crime scene. I paid for some items and was proud that I had spent way lower than I intended.

Not everything is great that's on sale. And most people know that nothing is on sale because it's particularly great, either. I admit, I can be faced with a great sale and feel the leap of my heart, but really, a good sale is only good if you are deliberate about saving money.

After spending those brief moments on the floor of Gymboree, I resolved never to be like those women. I did not need to buy 30 pairs of leggings because they were only 99 cents. My child does not need 30 pairs of leggings, perhaps not even in her lifetime. I'm thankful for this because I'm not really sure what spell I'm under that have embraced leggings back into my life since the 80s anyway.

As for shopping at Gymboree or any other children's clothing store, the following plan has worked for me (and I really try to stick with it) when trying to save money:

--Whatever store you love, sign up for their email lists so you can be notified about their sales ahead of time. Then, you have a plan, rather than being bombarded by them when you "drop by."

--Resolve to only buy things if they are on sale.

--The highest price I will pay is $10 for an item (and I almost never pay this-it's usually $7, tops), unless it's a dress.

--Buy mostly dresses for girls, as they are cheaper than buying a shirt or pants separately and more versatile.

--If you have the time and dedication, buy from higher end stores during sale times and stock up, rather than buy during a season at cheaper stores, like Old Navy or Target. Not that those stores are bad, it's just that their clothes do not hold up as well, and you could be wasting money rather than saving it once something falls apart in the wash.

--For good play clothes that can get really dirty, don't forget about Old Navy and Target!

--Always buy in outfits, especially for girls. If a shirt is dirt cheap, but it doesn't match anything you have, then you have to purchase something else new to go with it. By then, it doesn't feel like a good deal anymore. That's why I almost always find something to match it there, at the sale. With dresses, of course, this is easier.

--Only buy one season ahead. You don't know what will happen in a year. Maybe your child will have a growth spurt or not. Maybe the wardrobe you bought for summer will actually fit him in winter.

--In the above case and others, don't remove the price tag until the day your child is going to wear an item. If it doesn't fit, you can sell it on ebay or craigslist.

--Do you really like it?

--I mean, really, really like it?

--Know your stopping point. For me, it's 10 to 13 outfits for a season. Those outfits can be matched with each other as well, if I'm smart.

Today, B and I were at the mall looking at shoes for him. I saw Gymboree and veered the stroller a little that way. What? Did you want to go in there? B asked. Well....they are still having that sale. Maybe they have some new stuff that they brought out from the back. I walked in, the store looking much different from when I saw it last. Calmer. Emptier. I scouted the most adorable pair of rainboats in Ava's size.

How much are these? I asked the clerk.

$4.99, she answered.

Well, for that price, I can handle a little something special, so I had her ring them up.

How are you handling this crazy sale? I asked.

She laughed. It's been definitely been busy, she answered.

I came here on the first day, and it was madness, I said.

Yeah, I didn't even bring out a lot of stuff that day because it was so crazy, she told me.

Like these? I asked.

She put the boots in a bag and gave them to me.

Yup, like these. She smiled.

So, despite all my plans and efforts, sometimes a sale will surprise you.

whoa...are you at the right place?

2009-06-19T15:18:00.004-05:00

Yes, that's right. My blog got a facelift. Do you like it?

I'm loving it! It's so clean and perfect. Isn't it easier to read with the white background? Do you like the cool font? I'm incredibly thankful to Sharnee over at Acorn Glue who designed it for me. The artwork was a template she made long ago when her business was called by another name, and I asked her to customize it a little for me. She's incredibly patient--and I mean, incredibly!--to your creative wants and also very inexpensive. She's also Australian and says lovely things like, "Cheers" at the end of emails, which I love.

She's set to make me a button next so anyone *ahem* can post it on their blogs and websites, too. I'll be sure to post that when it's done. (I just saw that she posted that she's burnout on Acorn Glue. I am positive beyond a doubt it's from my comments such as, "Can you make the title go this way? Now this way?" I'm a nightmare client; it's true.)

Thanks, again, Sharnee!

2009-06-15T07:51:00.004-05:00

Lions, and tigers, and bears, and going under the water, and tall men with deep voices, and scary cow pictures at the Mexican restaurant, and unnecessarily weird children's shows--these are all the things that scare Bitty these days. As in running to me, clutching my neck, and burying her face in my hair. Oh, my sensitive girl--she is absolutely sensitive in every way, especially in her love. She's forever making sure everyone is okay--even the chair that fell over backwards at her playtable. Chair, you okay? *kiss* All better.

I'm inspired and challenged by her heart. How can I encourage it and yet protect it? How can I make sure I don't crush it to pieces with even one disapproving glance? Oh, and we definitely have discipline in this house--time outs galore and a few spanking warnings (although we haven't gotten there yet....), but how can I make sure the rebelliousness in her is caught and cornered, but the unbridled love she has for even inanimate objects is set free?

I'm assuming prayer is the correct answer here, which I will do. And do some more. But, goodness, this parenting thing hurts. Perhaps I just need one of her kisses to make it all better. Though I know they'll just break my heart even more.

Shy Girl

2009-06-09T13:50:00.007-05:00

If you stalk me and stalk me well, you probably read and then, couldn't find, a blog post I wrote today. Sometimes I get bold and then shy again--just like my little one presses her head against my leg, peers out from the fabric, and then buries her head again. I sometimes feel too vulnerable here, even I though know and love so many of you internet people. Today, 17 minutes after I published the post, I unpublished--or whatever the Blogger term may be--it.

Why?

I don't know. Sometimes I get self-conscious. Sometimes I wonder if I have some other idea of how my writing may be perceived, and then never know that eye-rolling that may occur on the other side of the screen when someone reads my words. If it could exist, this would be a fat day for my writing. The words don't fit and looked better when I put them on this morning. Now, it's all in the blaring sunlight with pet hair clinging to it and totally wrong.

My very own Amy Poehler, Nicki, used to make me laugh in high school with a hilarious act of a painfully shy girl. Sophomore lunch always seemed to drag on a little too long, and actually doing our homework was always out of the question. Thus, the introduction of various characters whom Nicki would act out, like this one, simply called, "Shy Girl." Nicki would assume the character, and we would all take turns berating "her" because she was too scared to speak directly at a person...she would instead whisper into the ear of the person next to her, who would then relay the message.

The truly funny part (I know, you're probably wondering what that would actually be) was that "Shy Girl" had some great comebacks to our berating, and our act would end quickly after someone broke character and laughed. I don't know if that translated well to you or even sounds entertaining, but 'tis the humor of high school girls.

The truth of the matter is that we're all some sort of version of Shy Girl. We stick our head in the sand when confrontation comes calling...or even *gasp* God's will. Nicki and I connected right before our high school reunion when I emailed to tell her I couldn't be there, and of course, Shy Girl was mentioned. What would Shy Girl have grown up do with her life?

Would she be tucked back in a cubicle in a large office building doing meaningless work?

Would she have finally found her voice and be anchoring the evening news?

Would she have enough courage to attend the high school reunion?

Would she finally have gotten over our criticism and become who she was supposed to be?

I'm hoping tomorrow will bring something new--new courage and the consistent mantra of "this is not a rough draft," because, as you know, life isn't. How much happier and content would we be if we threw insecurity to the wind and embraced today just as it is--with no regrets? How much better would we feel understanding that not everyone is going to like us or what we do--even for those things we know we're called by God to do?

Would you be a better version of yourself if you knew only one Person's opinion mattered, and you truly, unabashedly, believed that?

Would you?

And if only it were my size!

2009-06-02T17:35:00.019-05:00

One rainy, Saturday morning, a sweet old man drove up to my house while the rest of my family was napping. He bent over in the sheets of water and quickly reached into his trunk. I waited, loitering on my porch barefoot, but finally ventured out from my shelter when he pulled out two child-sized chairs and a table. I squealed at all of their tininess and slapped a mere $60 in his hand for the handmade set that he had also primed at my request. He didn't say much; perhaps it was the rain or a craiglist formality, but he was off in his car before I could even say thank you.

Little Bitty awoke that day to see her playtable and chairs and happily colored, ate, and playdoughed for weeks until we decided on a paint color. A very uncreative white was the winner, because, as always, the cave-like setting of our cozy cottage's wood-paneling convinced us that we needed something bright. B put on a coat of white, and even willingly and expertly did a damask stencil that I had purchased at Hobby Lobby. I could not have made it look as perfect as he did. And that's why I make him do everything. Wouldn't you?

The fridge was getting crowded with all of Bitty's artistic endeavours, so I enthusiacally gallivanted off to Hobby Lobby to purchase some burlap and an artist's canvas. Instead of a canvas, I found this "beauty" for a mere $5.44.

Some deconstructing of it later and haphazardly cutting two pieces of burlap (maybe a yard or so) , I covered it and made it anew. Incidentally, if you want to cover something with burlap, don't use a regular stapler like I did. Do yourself and your stapler (may mine rest in peace) a favor and use the much more aggressive staple gun. I think I would have been able to cover this a little more neatly as well.

I would like to have made some cute fabric-covered button thumb tacks, but I'm not feeling the safety of that near a curious 2-year-old. Thus, I've reverted to good ole fashioned scotch tape for adhering these masterpieces. I'm still trying to figure out a solution for this, though. Let me know if you have any ideas!

A trip to Goodwill produced a $5 lamp (which isn't actually the lamp pictured, but it did find its home on top of the fridge) with a purple shade that I "thought" i could spraypaint. MK and I visited a thrift store weeks before and found all sorts of things in the wrong color that we loved, but that didn't deter us. But you could spraypaint it! we yelled and laughed at each other across the store. Little Bitty held my hand and looked at us warily, and right she was. A runny coat of black spraypaint on a lampshade was later deemed a fire-hazard by B and a mess by myself. I begrudgingly purchased $10 lampshade from Target instead.

Around the corner of this craft area, I have a wall cubby that once, when this house was built in the 1930s, functioned as a place for the telephone. I've made it into a craft cubby instead, and it's perfect to keep Bitty's crayons, paints, and otherwise messy things from her reach. As a busy toy-picker upper and laundy put-awayer, it's also easy just to reach in and grab what she needs when a creative moment arises (Co-w-ors, Mommy?).

And what would a creative moment be without some inspiration from the Creator Himself? Well, almost. Some fake daisies in a wooden pot (read: not breakable) decorate her little table. I had no idea how much fun arranging the daisies would be for her, either. Definitely worth the $4 I spent at Hobby Lobby for 45 minutes of independent play on her part that day and a few more times this week.

Here's the finished product! There are some things I'd still like to do, such as put something else on the blank wall or on her table, but I love it, and am so proud to display it in our general living area. It doesn't blatantly say,

A kid lives here, and a bunch of bright primary colors is going to make sure you don't forget that.

but instead,

A tiny person with good taste lives here...and so do her parents.

Here's the cost rundown.....

Table and chairs: $60
White paint: already had it, free
Black paint: $2
Stencil: $6
Lamp: $5
Lampshade: $10
Burlap: $6
"Bulletin Board": $6
Daisies: $4
Vase: $3

Total: $102

nobody forgets about this kind of hot

2009-05-30T12:20:00.000-05:00

I remember Texas being hot, but when you grow up here, it's not as shocking as it is to a newcomer. But what if you've been away in breezy, beautiful Kentucky for 2 1/2 years where some summer evenings meant putting on a sweater? Or what living about humid Alabama for another 2 1/2 years that curled your hair a little but never meant missing a bbq just because of the weather? If you've experienced those kind of summers for a few years, surely Texas is going to initiate you with a bang this summer. And by you, I mean me.

May is ending, and it is already hot....yes, it's just up to the 90s on a hot day, but it's hot. Not to mention, these flat plains are letting the sun beat down on me just enough to make me shudder when remembering an instance at a health fair in Kentucky. I put my face in a skin damage machine to reveal "if" I had any skin damage, and then pulled it right back out again before the nurse could assess my face. She looked at me strangely, and then I explained. I grew up in Texas. It's pretty certain I have skin damage. A good reminder to put my sunscreen on! I then scurried off to something less troubling like a body fat analysis. ;)

I also loved when my Kentucky friends blew in my workplace huffing and puffing. It is hot out there! they would say. It is it...like this hot...in Texas? I chuckled and mumbled something smart-alecky like, Yup, in February.

Now I'm the one bursting in the door. It. Is. Hot. I say to B. How did we forget about this? Why do so many people live here? Don't they know how much better it feels not to be sweaty all the time?

Since Texas does have its perks despite the heat, and I am still completely overjoyed to be here, we've set down roots and planned on buying cases of sunscreen. I've also just ordered some serious water bottles for us. Being green and cheap, I didn't want to stock up on expensive bottled water, so I decided that we were going to invest in the best water bottles we could find.

I found this family's site that reviewed and rated some of the top water bottles, all being BPA-free. Oh, and if you're choosing a water bottle, or plastic of any kind, make sure it's BPA-free. In short, BPA stands for bisphenol A, which is a harmful component of plastic additives. You may remember this from the 2007-2008 news media about the presence of BPA in baby bottles. Now, almost all baby bottles and sippy cups have "BPA-free" stamped on their packaging. For a plethora of BPA-free products and info, especially kids' stuff, the Z Recs Guide is great.

What about all the other plastics in the world? Good question!

I ended up purchasing Kleen Kanteen water bottles for all of us. They are a little more pricey than other bottles, but I liked that they are stainless steel and have a sports cap option. No more expensive technological devices falling into my water glass. Plus, they are still cheaper than a summer's worth of water bottle cases.

I got this one for myself

This one for B

And they even had some kids' sippy cups! I love that this will keep Ava's water chilled when she's playing hard outside.

They also have a bunch of fun colors and accessories, like insulated sleeves, other types of caps, etc. We went simple this time around, but if we use them regularly I might invest in some of those as well.

2009-05-24T19:44:00.001-05:00

Remember my Early Experiment? Did you wonder how it all panned out? Click here to find out!

life with a side of brothers.

2009-05-11T14:03:00.000-05:00

I was seventeen and on top of the Eiffel Tower. The city of Paris sprawled out in front of me as if it was showing me the contents of its fabulous closet with her best accessories sticking out like overturned high heels, the Notre Dame, the Thames, and the Arc De Triumph. The air was cool, and the wind at the top tousled my hair as if the city itself was fixing it so I could fit right in, like I rolled out of bed after a night on the town.

The wind also brought bits of conversation that ruined my daydream. My brothers, who were also on the trip, discussing the possible results of spitting off the Tower. My dreamy smile turned into a grimace of annoyance when I heard the following.

"If you do it, I'll laugh, because it's going to go right back into your face."

"No, it's going to separate, and turn into tiny spittles, hitting a bunch of people down there."

"Duh, it's going to evaporate. You guys are so stupid."

Three conversations by three boys who always turned any of my potential classiness into secondhand reality. I was brought back to the moment and my presence as an available American romantic turned into an audience for the spitting feat. Three brothers will do that to you. They've embarrassed me in front of boyfriends, left me limp in hysterical laughter, and at that moment, proved to Parisians that Americans are, indeed, tacky, as they all hawked as big a loogey as they could muster from their croissant breakfasts.

This wasn't the first time they've conducted the spitting experiment, either. A few years before, the New York chill on top of the Empire State building resulted in a speedy agreement that spit would freeze over the edge, depending on your saliva's saltiness. And before we could even decide if that was the case, a tough-looking, mustached security guard strolled in front of them. With no chance to experiment, my thoughts turned back to the final scene in Sleepless in Seattle and my brothers discussed the speed in which a spit icicle could hurt someone. Thankfully, they never found out.

That week, before our moment on the Eiffel Tower, my parents had left our neighboring rooms to talk to the concierge and we flipped through the television channels to find something that sounded like English. No air-conditioning meant open windows in our hotel, which also meant plenty of spitting practice, especially in between the winding, circular staircase, where we had learned that rectangular luggage does not belong in Paris. We didn't belong there either, and this was especially true when my brothers roared at the French translation of the television show, Life Goes On. My laughter was unhinged after 24 hours of traveling, too, and let loose even more late in the night, when I heard a french man laughing like a stereotypical french man (a la Pepe La Pew) in the alley below. The guffaws in the other pillows in the room proved that it was funny to them, too.

Now, we're grown up with traveling experiences most people would only dream of. One is getting a Ph.D. in how those tall buildings don't fall down, the other is waiting for the birth of his first (and an introduction to a whole new world of spit), and the youngest is getting his masters in the studies of international health (and probably since learned the health ramifications of letting his germs loose overseas). And I'm still a dreamy teenager who thinks her life stories would be tidier without them. When I do tell my tales, I leave out most of the brotherly distractions, but they do slip out now and then, like a stray piece of spit in the middle of deep conversation--a dose of truth. For 18+ years, I struggled as a girly girl in between their farts, snorts, and inappropriate jokes, but now I truly enjoy retelling these epics to my husband before we fall asleep. It's not the pillow talk I imagined, but when I see him shaking with laughter after hearing their antics, I suppose I should thank all three of them for the unexpected romance in my life.

Eventually.

I'm still waiting for some apologies from them in the meantime.

2009-04-01T17:44:00.000-05:00

At times, I'm blinded by its tiny flash in the sunlight, although it's not often. I've all but forgotten about it until I catch its glimmer in between whipping out sippy cups and straightening tiny people's clothing. My eyes will wander, on many occasion, from a person's talking face to theirs when their hand is pushing back a stray hair.

Mine looks a little like how I feel most days--constant, a little smudgy, and holding the possibility of looking better with a little shine. Sometimes the dullness is like a tired, wry smile, "Yeah, I've been here the whole time. You haven't noticed?"

Um, no, not really. I noticed when I first received mine and desperately wanted everyone else to notice as I adapted strange and unnecessary habits of talking excitedly with my hands, tapping my fingers on my chin while deep in thought, and more ridiculousness that comes with the bliss of engagement. It was, as expected, so shiny and new.

After so many years, it has become a part of me. A part of me that, when removed, reveals the telltale dent of wear on my finger. A scar of sorts that tells, "We've made it this far."

I am one of the only people my age that has gold bands for my wedding and engagement rings.There are are days when I wish it was a white-gold, antiquey, art-deco type of ring, but since it's not, it gets a little more attention than usual.

"Wow--yours is gold!"

"I don't see gold on wedding rings anymore."

I look just surprised when they say these thing because, naturally, I've forgotten I'm even wearing them. "Oh, yes-well, thank you." Poor rings. I so carefully specified (in code) to my husband what I liked before engagement, and now, they get only a little recognition every now and then. Which is pretty accurate--we only give each other a little recognition now and then. For all we've been through, moving to three states, being jobless, having our faith mangled by the world, time and money chiseled away, and more, of course....we've still made it. We're become old married folks, and his presence next to me is a given--but not less precious by any means.

Our relationship is just like my ring, always on and always working. It supervises the smoothing of foreheads, the filing of taxes, and the mowing the lawn. It is sometimes treasured, sometimes in need of a good cleaning to start anew, but most of all, it's a blessing I don't deserve. The cherry on top, a cup overflowing, the diamond in the rough of my daily life here on earth.

And it's the dailyness of it that I love. The daily surrender of the remote control. The daily relief when I don't have to make coffee because it's already made. The daily tears that come with a hysterical laugh from something that only makes sense to us. The daily greeting from a child that looks both nothing and exactly like us. The daily worship for Something bigger than us...Something that oversees the placing of rings on fingers, the marital battles despite our promises to each other, and the redemption of our broken selves.

And thankfully, that Something's been here the whole time--along with that handsome other guy who could have abandoned ship a long time ago. I'm resolving to start noticing now. And start talking about them both with my hands again, too.

2009-03-27T22:13:00.001-05:00

"Something's wrong with the coffee maker." B looked at me seriously. Because, of course, this was serious business.

"What? What do you mean?" I asked.

"It's not working."

"It's not working? Well, why? It's not old."

"I know. It's not. We got it for as a wedding present."

Yes, we did. SEVEN years ago. It was in fact, a very good coffee maker that finally sputtered out it's final grind. B and I have been discovering that seven is the magic number. The magic number when everything you received as a wedding gift--appliance, towels, or artwork--starts to fall apart. I assume that it's because of the belief that by now, you could buy yourself whatever you needed. Or by now, you have finally found your taste and have discovered that the mod knife set sitting on your kitchen counter isn't really shabby chic like the rest of your house.

Basically, there's an expiration date for these things.

Today, we got a new expiration date. Our house in Alabama closed, and it's not ours anyone. We have so many mixed feelings about this--we're sad, relieved, nostalgic, and more. I know every bump in the backyard. I know how the air-conditioned sounds like when it clicks on. I know the silence of the neighborhood and how B's car sounds when it's driving up the street. I almost can't write any more details about it because it sends me into ridiculous spiral of depression. Our little home was a refuge from the world, and like everything else in the world, it finally expired as ours.

I was surprised how attached I'd be to it. I'm still surprised that it's still not ours. But, it's really a reminder, just like our little coffee maker's expiration, that this is not our home.

We are made for bigger and better. We are set apart for Those who don't fail us. We are chosen for a place of forever.

Oh, and as for a coffee maker, I would just like to recommend the Rival brand. It lasts a whole seven years.

2009-03-08T20:38:00.000-05:00

This weekend was a big one. There is so much to share, but first, I need to recover. Much bloggy love to you in the meantime!

2009-03-03T13:22:00.001-06:00

I am always telling B that I have writer's block. I can never think of good storylines, although he has somehow acquired a talent for this, and it frustrates me to no end. You can't be good at everything; it's a simple rule of life. It's probably even mentioned somewhere in Leviticus or Proverbs.

I was reading a post yesterday from a blog of a writer who is challenging herself to take her everyday experiences and turn them into a plot. I was struck with this idea, simply because, my life is ridiculous sometimes.

For instance, the happenings of this week involve investigating a weird smell coming from under the house, and the only way to investigate was to crawl under from the inside. Fortunately, I did not have to do this, but the church maintenance man (Mr. Fix It) recruited a very nice exterminator, who had the great pleasure of performing this incredible act of service. Mr. Fix It was attending to some other things in the house when I came home, and when I entered the house, I instantly knew death had exited via the front door, because, well, I could smell it.

"You don't want to know what it was," he told me.

"What was it?" And then I knew. I glanced down at my sweet Persian cat, who stared at me wide-eyed. He looked like he had seen it all and now was terrified. What IS this place?, his amber eyes pleaded.

"Oh, no. It was a cat, wasn't it?"

He confirmed it, and then I thought that was the end of that. But, it wasn't. According to Mr. Fix It, and rightfully so, I did not deserve the gory details of removing such a thing (bless the exterminator, Lord), but B did. And as he shared them with B, and B enjoyed these details, he thought I needed to know them too once Mr. Fix It left.

I will never be the same again. I cannot get the imagery out of my head. And, thanks to me for loving the art of description, I have probably made it worse than it actually was.

Wait.....*remembering the details*

No, I don't think that's possible.

P.S. Incidentally, Mr. Fix It was shocked when I told him today that I now knew the details about the removal. He has offered to "straighten out" my husband because of it. I may take him up on that the next time B spouts out a fabulous storyline that I should have thought of in the first place...;)

2009-02-18T14:07:00.001-06:00

Nothing like a little shameless self promotion again, right? First, thank you for all your sweet comments about my article. I'm so humbled that any of you would actually want to read my rambling thoughts, but praise the Lord He steps in when we need Him.

So, I make these hair clips, and although I rarely post them for sale on etsy because I take orders from various boutiques, I thought I'd slap some up there. Especially since I can't get over how cute some of them are. I contemplated removing them all and reserving them for A, but she truly has too many clips as it is. Today we were pulling away from the house, and her tiny hand was frantically running through her hair as she said, "Pick! Pick!" (Clip! Clip!). Oops, mommy forgot, baby. Either she's already concerned with accessorizing appropriately, or I've created a hair clip monster.

Either way, I'm hoping you'll have the same hair clip hysteria with your tiny tot one day. Here are some pics of my hair clips in my etsy shop, Rock a Bow Baby. Enjoy and if you would like a tutorial to make your own, just let me know!

2009-02-16T11:02:00.001-06:00

Ungrind just published a new article I wrote, titled, "A View From the Top" about dedicating A to the Lord. Have you ever thought about dedicating your child to the God? Or baptizing him or her into the Christian family? For me, I wanted to really examine what doing this meant--this article details my journey of letting go of my plans and worry for her, and letting God take over. It's still a daily struggle for me to take this leap of faith with one of my most precious of treasures, but I know the eternal rewards are beyond worth it. I pray you are encouraged in reading it!

Happy Love Day, everybody!

2009-02-14T09:10:00.000-06:00

2009-02-13T21:54:00.001-06:00

Edie over at Life in Grace has posted the most intriguing perspective on how we're losing our men when it comes to church. Here's an excerpt:

"Men want meat.....for supper and from the pulpit. They crave serious doctrine and truth and need to hear, over and over again, that Christ has come in the flesh to slay our enemies and to bear our overwhelming burdens. Then they would be free to slay the dragons that breathe fire down the backs of their families."

Stop by, read, and say hello to her!

2009-02-10T13:32:00.000-06:00

I love Fort Worth.

But, I'm not sure Fort Worth is going to love us back.

Why? Well, because of our daughter.

During the Presidential Inauguration, I simply sat her 22-month self down in front of the television with a craft and told her, "This is an important day. That is our president. His name is Obama."

"OOOOBAMA!" She explained.

"Yes, exactly," I said.

"OOOOBAMA!" She said again. And again. And again. And every time the camera zoomed to his face, which was, of course, a lot.

I didn't think anything of it until she noticed him again during the evening news that night.

"OOOOBAMA" She said with her tiny pointer finger extended.

"Wow." B and I looked at each other. I laughed. "Well, she's certainly a little patriot."

The next day we visited the library for story time. A woman sitting behind us with her children was wearing an Obama shirt. "OOOBAMA!" She screamed, disrupting the story time and leaving the woman with the t-shirt rethinking her whole ensemble for that day.

"Yes, that's him." I smiled at the woman, and then to the woman sitting next to her with her children. I didn't want to create any preconceptions about us. Whether we voted for him or not was not a make or break it point I wanted to bring up with any of Ava's potential story time friends' moms. But suddenly, I felt a little exposed. I mentioned patriotism again and they laughed politely. Whew. That was a close one.

Leaving the library thirty minutes later, I held Ava's hand and walked to the door. I suddenly saw her little finger extended again.

No. I wanted to whisper. Because I saw where she was looking.

"OOOBAMA!" She screamed. And there, sitting in the cozy library was a woman typing along on the computer, who was also African American.

I think Ava's feet may have left the ground then. Because we were almost running out the door and my eyes were glued onto the car. I didn't look to see if the woman noticed my tiny girl's yells, and I couldn't bear to see if anyone else noticed either. We just had to leave.

On our way to lunch, I thought, Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe she thought that was the same woman wearing the Obama shirt.

"OOBAMA!" I heard again from the backseat.

I turned my head to see two Middle Eastern men walking by the car.

Nope, it wasn't a fluke.

2009-02-04T12:18:00.000-06:00

God: "With Me, you have hope. Must I write it on the wall for you?"

Me: "Well, that would help..."

God: "Done."

This picture was taken from my backyard. Our backyard and its contents belong to the church across the street. The shed contains furniture for the international students who go to the church, and here, hung on a little rusty nail, is this little sign. I noticed it when we were considering renting the house, and my heart stirred a little. We've needed some hope lately--for so many things: for our house to sell, for Change to be merciful to us...I could go on and on. I'm so thankful that when I'm around my husband, I laugh until I cry, and in some cases, if I'm eating....well, let's just leave that alone.Little moments of hysteria give me hope, as well as my moments with God, and now, this mysterious little sign does, too. I don't know where it came from, but I'd like to think it was Divinely positioned there just for me when I'm looking out the kitchen window while I'm doing the dishes. Sometimes God does spell it out. And it's on the wall right in front of our faces.

2009-01-23T13:07:00.000-06:00

Someday, when I grow up in the blogging word, I want to be Kelly. She's not only an incredible writer, woman of God, and creative genius, but she's thoughtful to us obscure, flaying bloggers who are trying to find our way and voice. When I posted my two attempts of writing from last year, she posted some of her thoughts as a comment, and from there, we rapidly exchanged email after email dissecting my puny little story idea until she boldy and yet, graciously, said,

"Do you think the reason you don't love your story is because you don't quite love your characters yet? I feel like you're putting them in there because they get you where you want to go, but you don't really know them, their idiosyncrasies, what is behind their actions or reactions, what makes them tick."

Um, wow. Yes, she's probably right. I won't bore you with the details, but her honesty has helped me redefine what I want to write in the first place. This year, I hope to find that out in some way--between the laundry, the dirty diapers, the late nights working, the routines made, and the most boring of tasks.

This weekend, the very talented Kelly is hosting a contest over at her site. Enter to win one of her gorgeous prints or a redesigned blogheader of your very own!

And lastly, I realize I'm so guilty of not posting my most inspiring piece of work, my daughter. I plan on doing that more this year, too.

An Open Letter to The Lost Show on ABC

2009-01-18T14:40:00.000-06:00

Dear Lost,

I'll admit it; I'm a little bit soft. You had me at the second show of Lost. You reeled me in, and we got along great. For the next few seasons, I knew all about you and had so much fun hanging out with you and my friends. They loved you as much as I did.

But then, you got a little distant. A little crazy. Remember that polar bear in the first season? I kept wanting to go deeper with you about that, but you kept ignoring me. Maybe it was a mistake, but just admit it. Don't try to distract me with other story-lines.

They you started killing people off. And then acting like they were alive. But still telling me that they were dead. Or alive. Or not. I got a little annoyed, but I thought I'd stick it out. We had been through a lot together, and you had so much mystery.

But lately, you've gone off the deep end. You never answer my questions. In fact, you start with something entirely different. At this point, I don't even know what time period we're in--past, present, future? I just count my lucky stars that I know the character's names. But I even question myself on that when you start changing them all over again.

My point is, Lost, is that I'm a little hurt. I know you want to start up again this coming week, but I'm a little guarded. I'm going to be there, but I'm playing hard to get this season. Get your act together, communicate clearly, and wrap it up.

That's all.

Sincerely,
Alison

it's better written in ink

2009-01-08T19:57:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was one of those days.

The little things in them are perfect. Perfect walk in the park. Perfect dinner. Perfect television line-up. Except for those big things that get in the way. The empty house in Alabama that's still for sale. The newness of change that doesn't give you a break. And, then, for me there's something else...something nipping at my heels, something that makes one side of my mouth turn down, and when I think about it, it's silly.

One of my favorite bloggers, mackin ink, decided to stop blogging. She's blogged for a year, and now, the year is up. I'm hoping that her stopping means that she got a book deal or maybe she's wanting to spend more time with her three girls. I hope it's something good. Because she's been such an inspiration for me--her writing, her signature style of placing art in between her paragraphs, her love for her daughters--I've loved it all. This post about one of her daughers is absolutely beautiful.

But now, it's done. The archives are there to reread, but she's lost in cyberspace.

I thought that moving and leaving all that's familiar would result in something constant. At least, something online...something imaginary.

But that's not the case. Just another reminder that perfect days are still with their disappointments. We will still have to find and remember God's art of yesterday.

The above post was written in Karey M. (makin ink) style. The photography is from One Step Beyond 70.

Transition

2009-01-07T07:32:00.002-06:00

We are here! We moved halfway across the country once again, and now have completed our five-year triangle of Texas, Kentucky, Alabama, and now, back to Texas. And, it may be premature, but I love Fort Worth. Why did I not know how cool it was when I only lived an hour and half from it for 15+ years?

Our move was tiring and hard. I still can't believe we made it through it all. From our cat getting sick the day we were supposed to start loading, to B being trapped at the moving truck office for 3 hours while they tried to print a contract with no printer ink, to being unable to drive up our steep driveway with the truck and having to park it on the street (not fun=walking up and down a hill many times with heavy boxes), to us getting nervous that perhaps the truck was too small, to A throwing up all over her carseat and two blankies (yes, also on one on reserve just in case "something" happened!) after we had unhooked and loaded the washer and dryer, to me wondering if I was going to lose it at any point, to B telling me that I had to choose a piece of furniture to leave because it wasn't all going to fit, to me actually losing it and saying it was all going to have to fit-just-make-it-fit-I-don't-care-how, to our beloved friends and neighbors praying for us after everything did indeed fit, to both of us spending our last moments in our house in our baby's room where she was brought home from the hospital, to driving 11+hours with A on Christmas Eve the next day following B in the truck and my stepMIL in our other car, to finally making it to Waco and collapsing into bed.

The entire time I kept thinking, "Thank the Lord that Christmas is at the end of all of this." I definitely needed a break for a few days as did all of us before we drove to Fort Worth with some of our family to unload everything to our tiny house here. We are in an amazing location, although our rental home is in some serious need of TLC. And Clorox. It's going to be a long time cleaning the dirt from the 1920s, which is when the house was built, but the fact that B has a six minute commute is unreal. We are also so glad to be meeting some of our new church family--they have been so warm and welcoming to us. This coming Sunday is our meet and greet for all the services, and although it's intimidating at the names I've already managed to forget, it's so good to be back in the Lone Star state.

Thank you for all your well-wishes and emails! We finally got internet yesterday, and I hope to connect with all of you soon!

Here's A setting up house herself at the playground across the street. Yes, there's a PLAYGROUND across the street from our house! God is good!

'tis the season....to feel unproductive.

2008-12-28T13:32:00.000-06:00

My dreamiest of dreams is to write a book. Well, to get it published, too, but I imagine there's probably nothing more satisfying is writing "The End" with a flourish after 80,000 words before it have been edited and tweaked to perfection.

And this past year, my new year's resolution was to perfect a story idea for my yet unwritten book.

*sigh*

I've thought of some ideas, some titles, some characters, but I'm not yet smitten with any of them. But I have written some prologues and first chapters, and for fun, I'd thought I'd include them here. (as inspired by a fellow writer from Ungrind) I would love to hear if any of them are viable. Which would you want to read?

Try #1

The mountains were louder at night. These sounds were never detectable in the daylight. It was as if someone had turned up the volume of nature so that they, like me, could avoid the thoughts that came with these hours. They bounced in the valleys and teased my ears. A few moments would pass every night before I became acclimated to the whereabouts of the echoes and varied volumes of a laugh, the moo of a cow, and a tiny murmur of something indiscriminant.

I laid on my bed listened. The curtain that functioned as a door to my bedroom rippled gently in the wind and gave me flashing glimpses of the dimly lit porch outside. The door was propped open to allow the humid, mountain air to circulate in the tiny house. My privacy was minimal behind my curtain, and noise entered in freely without discretion to the only place I could call my own. As a result, I had learned to tune most of the sounds out when I needed to. But tonight, I listened to them all. I could hear voices laughing in one direction and imagined a Jamaican family on their porch staying up late teasing each other about an event that happened years ago. The laughing would stop for a few moments and suddenly explode, as if a comedian was on stage and triumphantly met the audience’s expectations with each punch-line. Their porch was most likely his stage, as was every tightly knit family’s. A place to rest after a meal with friends, greet unexpected visitors, gossip about the day’s events, and celebrate the years gone by. Loneliness struck me with this image, so I turned to focus on another sound, the rustling of mango trees east of me. The ocean was east as well, and I imagined that it had brought the wind up this far to remind me of its depths. Its beaches were probably relieved by now by the tourists that regularly took advantage of its mirrored beauty for their own. I had been in their position only months ago, only I was staring blithely out at the horizon instead of strolling on the sand or swimming in the surf. No, I was staring numbingly at the place where the blue was the deepest shade. There was so much more beyond that hue—a deeper one, and then another even more deeper, until it became almost black. A thin black line was hardly detectable where the ocean met the horizon, and my eyes narrowed to find it each time when I stared out from my perch in the sand. That was where my attention was then—and even now.

The confusion I was feeling as I found myself stuck in Ruby’s house and now a second time—was just the surface of my own ocean. It had started out only months ago as something resembling a shallow reef—nothing was unexpected, and everything could be enjoyed and marveled at. But something had churned it up, and now the water was dark. I couldn’t see the bottom anymore. My faith grasped in the night for the promise that surely God had something down deep for me…even in the darkest places, where the color is black and there seems to be no life at all.

My thoughts became more abstract as I felt myself grow sleepy and imagined shiny, indistinct creatures bobbing about in these deep, dark places that were miles from the surface. My eyes closed as I also squinted in my dreams…wondering, hoping that they would fully be revealed.

Try #2

On the night I was born, not many people were paying attention. Most of the world was glued to their televisions and two bobbing white spacemen stuck a flag on the face of the moon. It was one small step for mankind, and one giant push for my mother.

“I knew the doctor’s mind was somewhere else. His eyes were glazed over as he caught you. Probably thinking about everything he was missing.” My mom laughed loudly in front of her audience, and I, as if on cue, masterfully rolled my eyes as a then twelve year old.

“Paige, you can tune me out, but I don’t care.” She smoothed my bangs across my face, and my heart hit a guilty nerve of love for her. She dazzled among the cascade of cheap party streamers around our tiny kitchen. My birthday guests chewed the cake and watched her with subdued looks of awe, as everyone had for as long as I could remember.

My mother continued on in her storytelling. “You were just like you are now—perfect.” She then stopped short of saying more, as if she was remembering preteen horrors of having a parent even breathe near you. But I never felt that way. She leaned toward perfection, or at least, it felt that way. She knew the right things to say, and even if they weren’t, they always felt right. My friends started back into their giggly conversations after a pause, and I heard my mother murmur something softly as she kissed the top of my head, “...His little servant...”

I pretended not to hear, but it wasn’t hard to guess this was what she had said. She told me my name’s meaning often, as if she wanted to project me to fulfill it. Unfortunately, I had turned out to be just as clumsy spiritually as I was physically. It was her that gave things to the needy without thought. It was her that welcomed in young families into the church. I just didn’t think of doing those things. I went to church and copied her faithfulness, joining causes, singing the songs, and more. I may have been called “God's little servant,” but it was her who was doing things worth God’s favor. I was just the sidekick.

Until her death the following year.

I do have some other ones that are written, but since they've been saved under titles such as, "blah." I thought I'd leave them on my hard drive for now. Reading these two over even feels a little like I'm standing naked on the street. Does every author feel like this?

Here's to hoping this new year is full of new, creative ideas!

*We have arrived safely in Texas for Christmas and are set to move in our new Fort Worth home soon! The break between the transitions has been a huge blessing as is all the family hugs and company.*

DSL and Donkeys

2008-12-20T22:52:00.000-06:00

My latest article on Ungrind is up this week. Titled, "DSL + Donkeys," it's about the ways God uses us through unexpected means. Enjoy!

2008-12-16T13:50:00.002-06:00

In the buffet of life's friendships, ours with our neighbors is truly one of the desserts.

Time with them always seems to run short, whether it's late in the night or squeezed in between overlapping schedules. We've stood at each other's doors and felt our hearts groan when it was time to leave, as if it was a last scrape against the bowl or the final lick of a spoon. God certainly topped his providence with the "coincidence" of having another pastor and his wife, who shared the very same infertility issues I had, living only three houses from ours. We've shared the birth of our daughter, long ministerial discussions, a locked house that needed their innovative thinking to break into, laughter that could not continue without shedding of some tears (and maybe a snort), and more. But my favorite memory is peering at a positive pregnancy test that previously, time and time again, had said no. Her eyes were wide, and we both tried to contain our screeching that could have been heard across town to her oblivious husband at work. We hate to miss out on the firsts of the little one growing in her belly, but praise God that tiny holes in all of our hearts will be overwhelmed with joy of the debut of this new little resident.

We love you guys and will miss you terribly.

Here we are last year at A's first Halloween.

I've got some explainin' to do....

2008-12-15T11:55:00.001-06:00

I need to tell you something.

I have not blogged or touched on this because it's so brand new....that it's still sinking in. Here it is.

We're moving.

B has accepted a job at a church in Fort Worth, and as of today, we'll be picking up everything we own (except the house) and moving back to Texas in.....9 days.

Yikes.

We announced this to our very generous church family about 2 weeks ago, and it was not an easy decision. We prayed, we mulled, and finally, we knew we were supposed to go. We'll now be 2 hours away from family, instead of 10. A will know her grandparents well and life just may be a little easier with a child than it has been so far away (example: when both parents get sick and she is not!). God has provided this; but right now, I am sad and humbled when I think about the blessings He's provided for us here in Alabama.

We came here when I was 8 weeks pregnant from Kentucky with some serious morning--no, make that all day--sickness. We settled in, bought a house, and welcomed our little one into our lives. This is the home she knows. The routines she's known. The friends she's made. It breaks my heart to take her away from these. I even tried very, very hard not to tear up in the grocery store today--the grocery store!!--because she loves going there so much. Seriously, it may just rival the park.

But I know we'll find new routines. New friends. New grocery stores. But, for now, I'm just wallowing in nostalgia for my sweet home Alabama.

Here's an old pic that was taken when we bought our house. I'm praying that the Lord will give us a reason to take a new, updated one soon!

In the meantime, please forgive me for not blogging more regularly. We should be in our new home by Jan. 1.

the fight.

2008-11-22T12:34:00.001-06:00

One thing that I love about the Harry Potter books is that the children in them know that evil is serious business. It's not made up stories, or something they don't have to deal with. It's something they are always on alert to and able to battle it themselves.

I think I started to learn this lesson too when I went on a mission trip to Jamaica in college. There was one moment where I knew something wasn't right. The air was thick with something more than just the breeze and sounds of mothers and children begging for the candy I was handing out. The crowd was on the brink of chaos, and my team and I were hurrying down a mountain to our car at the bottom. We didn't say anything to each other in those moments, but it was clear--a spiritual battlefield had erupted in the unseen, and the Spirit was urging us to leave.

Like many mission fields, it seems that evil and good is easier to discern in impoverished areas overseas than here in America. The gray--the inbetween--is foggy, and suddenly, you find yourself where you never intended to be. In the lap of indifference, at the foot of wealth, or asleep with entitlement. You look back and wonder, where did you cross the line? How did you even get here?

Margaret Feinberg, an amazing Christian writer and speaker, recently said, "When you fight the dragon long and hard, sometimes you look down and realize you've gotten scales in your hands." Infected hands full of what you never intended--bitterness, anger, indifference, or negativity.

Simply stated, you have become what you thought you were fighting.

How sneaky of evil to do that to you. To wiggle its way in when you weren't even looking. But it's like that--it comes in forms that are more creative than ghost stories or horror movies. It comes at you when you're unguarded or distracted in only a way that's specific to you and only you.

So, how do you get out of this pit?

This, my friends, is where faith enters. True faith. Not the one that's mentioned in the zillions of Christian forwards in your inbox. Not the faith that you simply read about in your Christian heros' books. It's the kind of faith that only you believe and say to yourself, "God can overcome this impossible, unforeseen situation in my life. He can restore me back to Him. He can rectify the sacred."

In a way, this world is a fairy tale, full of monsters, injustice, and antagonists that won't quit. But, there's also a Hero who's already won. Believe it for you. Relax your tense stance and read His Words. Know that things can be as they should.

Let Him fight for you instead.

Wednesdays are for victories

2008-11-12T16:50:00.000-06:00

On her Wednesdays this past summer, she would cautiously creep into the library trailer. If he as much as looked at her, she'd burst into tears. Several times we had to leave the trailer, calm down her teary face and venture back. Songs were song, puppets were passed around, and books were read. Weeks later, we stayed longer, although she still staked her place on my lap. Finally the songs became hers, as she put her teeny fingers together chanting the tune of "where is thumbkin," there and even at home.

Today, in all her bravery, she trots into the stuffy trailer to see him. His face, cracking with age, smiles at her. I know she's one of his favorites. "I used to be shy, too," he smiles down her while strumming his guitar. Me, too, I think as I wrestle her into my lap. But I lose, which has become usual these days. She dances. She sings. She interrupts his songs to point out the balloons.

We've come far on our Wednesdays, little one. And, oh, how I'm blessed to be a part of your victories.

2008-10-26T13:31:00.000-05:00

I am often somewhere in between "this is too hard" and "I am so blessed" these days. Leaving 10+ hours away from family with a little one who's been sick too long and a husband out of town this weekend makes me realize where my self ends and God begins. Because when a child is crying inconsolably for an hour or fussing the entire day, the only thing I can do at that last moment is to breathe deeply and say, "this is where I end, God." And fortunately, I believe He takes things into His own hands. For a moment, my child sleeps. The day speeds up. Or another blessing inserts itself as a distraction. When that happens, I take account of the battlefield of both my home (strewn with sippy cups, kleenex, and medicine) and and my heart (strewn with negative thinking and exhausted love).

And I can only come away with this:

I am so blessed.

Not with just material things that most of the world doesn't have. But also a God who loves us enough to take over when things end. Our patience. Our strength. And our best efforts for a good day.

This was all written while waiting out a night terror. Spirit of peace, please come.

what happened.

2008-10-21T12:12:00.000-05:00

"Did you not see what just happened?" My husband asked me with widening eyes as he walked up to me.

"What?" I looked up from my book and scanned the crowded airport terminal. There could have been a myriad of things that happened. The couple a few benches over could have had an argument, the child with her dinner placed precariously on her lap could have dropped it, or the man with the permanent frown on his face could have broken out in song. But none of those things had happened.

"Really, what happened?" I said to him as he sat down slowly and nervously laughed.

"I just caused a scene." He said before bursting out into laughter. "I can't believe you didn't see it."

Well, the book was a good one, and my annoyance was growing as our pending flight time slipped into delay after delay--all of these thoughts crossed my mind as excuses. But saying them would only cause the story to be postponed. "What. Happened. Seriously." I asked him again, this time with a warning in my tone. Warning what, I'm not sure. Maybe a scene from me?

He drew in a breath to stop his laughter and began his tale. "So, I was coming out of the bathroom. And I spotted the airline pilots and flight attendants for our flight walking by me. I thought you were watching, so I waved at them and pretended to ask them as they passed where they had been. You know, like a "thanks for finally getting here, guys." I don't know; I thought you'd think it was funny. They didn't see me, just like I had planned. But another guy across the room did. He thought I was waving at him."

"Okay..." I started grinning.

"And he was struggling with a suitcase or tying his shoe or something, but is squinting at me like he should know me. So he waves at me. But then he trips. And as he's tripping, he starts gaining momentum. He can't stop himself. He finally barrels into a trash can like a linebacker. And then all the trash flies out of it. People gasp and start helping him up and stuff."

"What? What did you do?" I tried to look concerned but could not swallow my laugh.

"I came back here. Our flight's about to leave." He paused, feigning concern for the poor man, but couldn't hold his laugh in any longer, either.

This time, we were the ones who caused the scene.

2008-10-20T11:44:00.000-05:00

I officially missed my 10 year reunion this weekend.

Somehow, I kept thinking that I might be able to swing driving 10+ hours at the last minute, but the truth is, other plans were already in the mix, not to mention a little girl who needed her mama. I spent Friday night with some old friends from seminary, and Saturday night relaxing with my sweet hubby after he had been gone for a week. Definitely not a bad way to miss seeing everyone, but my heart still hurt when I look at pics today from one of my funnest (yes it's a word, people) friends from those years, Nicki.

I have been reflecting on what has changed in 10 years, and not just the usual stuff, like I graduated from Texas A&M, have worked in marketing/advertising/writing for the past 6 years, and lived in three different states. Because that's NOT change to me. That's just the background.

As for what really has changed about me, I think a lot of change is about my character. Here's a few.

--I've embraced writing as a calling. I put in on the backburner in high school and even college, but now I realize how much I love it. I think of all the "should haves" regarding high school, like I should have worked for the school paper, taken a journalism class, sought other opportunities...but I know that my journey here--to this mental place--means that everything I didn't do had a purpose.

--I'm not as nice anymore. I know this probably sounds negative...but I'd like to think it's a good thing. I'm not a doormat, and life in the corporate world has pulled that idea right out from me. Fortunately, I landed on my feet, but it hasn't been easy. I've also developed a strong sense of urgency for social justice. There are so many things that happen in this world that just plain aren't fair. I believe there is incredible power in prayer when change isn't attainable. But, if you can be doing something about an injustice, do it.

--My belief in Jesus has grown. I've gotten to see Christianity from many different perspectives. College made me realize how little I really knew about what I believed. Seminary made me realize how little I knew about God's work in people, especially those who are incredibly different from me. I've seen lives restored, people redeemed, and visions come to fruition. Even thinking about it now, I can't believe how much I've learned, and how much I still don't know.

--I'm more of me. I've definitely picked up others' habits, good and bad, along the way. But along with those, I've become more of who I am. I'm an incredibly mixed up jumble of characteristics, and I've learned to embrace them all, starting with my birth in the hippiest place in America to my childhood within a house of intellectuals to my clumsy maturing alongside the most merciful, gracious friends I know. I'm still learning not to bury those traits that don't seem to fit in a stereotype, but I believe I'm come a long way.

There you go. 10 years of change in one person. And just 10 years to go until the next reunion. What will change look like then?

2008-10-06T22:10:00.000-05:00

This is the time of year I get homesick. Achingly, undeniably homesick. Fall snaps into the air and I think about my favorite memories of growing up in Texas--Friday nights at my high school football field. The cold fronts in Texas always seem to arrive in the middle of the second quarter and led me burrowing into my friend's shoulder. I would think about trekking up to the concession stand to get hot chocolate (that they conveniently only sold on the chilly nights). But, most of the time, I'd just enviously watch other people carry down steaming styrofoam cups because I just never wanted to move from my little huddle of warmth. Those shoulders are some of my favorite places--I've cried on them, prayed near them, and missed hugging them.

My ten year high school reunion is approaching in a few weeks, and I'm sad not to be able to go. Timing, flight and gas costs are just not letting me leave my little home in the Alabama foothills, and for the most part, I'm okay with that. But what I'm not okay with is not being able to be with some of my best friends. Though I haven't lived in Texas for almost 5 years now, they have loved me across the miles. Dropping their plans to meet with me when I'm in town, throwing a baby shower while I was pregnant, and celebrating my little one's birthday and dedication.

After living in Kentucky and really experiencing beautiful autumns, I know that the term "Texas falls" is really just an oxymoron. But I can't help but wonder if those cold fronts were divinely ordained to remind me of the warmth of true friends during my coldest seasons. I miss you guys and wish I could be there. Go Panthers!

"Hi, More."

2008-09-29T21:15:00.000-05:00

The irony in life never fails to entertain, inspire, and scare me. Today, as the DOW's points dropped lower than ever, my child learned the word, "more."

The setting was lunch. The object of desire was pineapples.

Ava finished off the first serving I gave her, and when I asked her if she wanted more, she looked at me and said, "more?"

"Yes, more. More pineapple?"
"More."

I set down more in front of her. She repeated it.

"More."

And then, something made my ears perk up. It's the greeting she gives to every new word, and for the most part, they've been objects, not abstract concepts.

"Hi, more."

Yes, I thought and grimaced. Hi, more. I suppose I should officially greet you in her life, now, since you've set up house the moment she took a breath. Her tiny mouth opened and the screams came out then could only indicate that more was needed. More food. More swaddling. More mommy. More daddy. More sleeping. More awaking. More. Toddler tantrums indicated that you were becoming a favorite friend. More of that. More of this. Gimme more.

Now, today, you've been proclaimed as an actual part of her vocabulary. The welcome mat has been laid out for you, only I do it begrudgingly. Because I'm scared of what more means in this world. Extreme sweet sixteen parties, additions to technology, skinnier bodies, more money, better education, prettier faces, and, well...more. Please don't occupy her in that way. Let her believe that more is found in giving to the needy, swallowing her pride, loving without conditions, believing in good, and standing up for those with no voice.

More is what I signed up for when I decided to become a mother. But more than that, I wanted to make less of me, and more of Him. For her. And for all the mores in her life.

2008-09-15T14:16:00.000-05:00

Ungrind has posted another article of mine on their site today! I'm so thankful for the opportunity to write for them--enjoy!

Here's the link