On Turning 40

I distinctly remember the year leading up to my 30th birthday being filled with trepidation about the upcoming new decade. 30, ugh. That was like being a real, real adult. Our parents had been in their thirties when we were kids. Teachers, doctors, business people, you know, mature adults, were in their 30s. It just seemed so OLD. It was a bit ridiculous, looking back now on the whole thing. I already had 2 kids, a mortgage, car payments and bills, how much more "adult" could you get? So, 30 came and went, and then ended up being a lot of fun. There were ups and some pretty low lows, but overall, life was good.

And then 39 hit. And those old feelings of fear and anxiety surfaced. 40, ugh. It's just so old. Honestly, the 3 years leading up to 40 hadn't been as fun as the first half of the decade. At 37, I suffered a compound fracture in my right fibula and tibia, leaving me unable to drive for 3 months, and severely limping for 12. At 34, I had had our third child, and decided to stay home, so there I was, stuck with a toddler, with no transportation or the will to even walk. Every step hurt. I gained 25 pounds and for the first time in my life, I was scared of activity, and trying new things. Breaking your leg in such a fashion that the bone doesn't heal for 9 months does something to you. And just from playing a game of friendly volleyball. (insert eye roll) My balance was off, my heart would pound when I wasn't on steady ground, and I was truly fearful of injuring myself again. Not to mention, the loss of my income was starting to really affect our family financially.

In February of this year, just 2 months shy of the big day, something clicked. I was at a friend's house, when one of the ladies started talking about Keto and how she had lost 16 pounds in 2 months. My ears perked up. I had started to get too comfortable with that extra 25 pounds and I knew that I needed to do something to change my habits soon. You know, 40, no one loses weight after turning 40. Literally, the next day, I cut most carbs out of my life. No bread, rice, potatoes, or sugars. I lost 3 lbs in 2 days. People will say that was water weight, but I'd never dropped like that before, and it was enough to keep me going. Strangely enough, eating low carb wasn't as hard as one would imagine. I wasn't as hungry, and losing the bloat did wonders for my body image. By my birthday, I was down about 15 lbs and today, I'm 5 pounds away from my goal weight. What a difference feeling physically like my younger self has made!

Around that time, I also ordered the book You Are a Badass by Jen Sincero. Sincerely, if you are looking for motivation to become your best self, this book is amazing. Funny, but no holds barred, this book quickly put me in my place about making excuses for the life I was leading. I started focusing on making positive changes to my attitude, and actively pursuing abundance. Physically, I was feeling good and my online business was taking off. My husband and I planned a kick ass trip to the NE and visited NYC for the first time. I continue to work on my anxieties with getting hurt again. If I know I am safe, but just scared, I'm pushing myself to try new activities. Like the ropes course on a cruise ship we were on over spring break. Or even paddle boarding on the 4th of July. Just like when I turned 30, I'm learning 40 is just a number. I'm sure when I'm 49 turning 50, I'll look back on my feelings of being old and laugh. I may as well feel that way now!

Working on changing my attitude and habits have already made this year pretty amazing and I can honestly say that I'm excited to see what the rest of this decade reveals.

(And really, go buy that book. It's awesome.)

Imagine

Imagine waking up one morning to your coworker's foot in your face. She got scared in the middle of the night, so she drove to your house and thought it would be ok to climb in bed with you. Then imagine walking down the hall to find that two additional coworkers thought it would be swell to sleep in your guest room. They needed breakfast and a ride to work.

Imagine driving to work as your coworkers pushed and pinched each other while calling out various and asunder bad names. You think it will be ok and you can get through it because soon you'll be at work and you can shut your door and work on that important project coming up.

Your coworkers have other plans.

You start the work scheduled for the day, but the first interruption occurs, "Milk, milk, MILK!" You get the milk and return to your job, but while you were fixing the glass of milk, your coworker thought it would be funny to delete a few paragraphs of the report you were writing. You breathe a heavy sigh, and retype the words. The background fades as you become immersed again in your work.

But another coworker needs help with their project and won't you stop what you are doing RIGHT NOW and help them? Never mind the fact that it is their work and they should have gotten help earlier in the day. You stop and try to be patient, but you haven't done this part of the job in at least 20 years, so things are a little foggy. After doing some research, you finally figure it out and the coworker is happy, or at least not mad anymore.

As you return to your work, another coworker comes in and it seems he's having bathroom issues and would you please come and wipe his bum?

You decide to be nice and take your coworkers to lunch, but they have trouble agreeing where they want to go. A place is finally picked and food is ordered. One coworker has issues sitting still though and prefers to climb all over your lap or run around the restaurant. You spend most your lunch trailing behind him.

After lunch, you continue to work, but your coworkers are having a party and screaming very loud. You put a slideshow on for them for entertainment, but then immediately feel guilty because shouldn't they be working instead?

The end of the day finally rolls around and you think you've actually gotten something accomplished before realizing that another coworker colored all over your walls and threw trash all over your floor. You hurriedly clean up before your boss walks in and get ready to go home.

You think you can maybe relax NOW, but your coworkers have nowhere to go, so they decide to come eat dinner with you, and can they bring some friends along? THERE IS NO ESCAPING THIS.

The evening rolls along much like the day as your coworkers don't like what you've prepared for dinner and they voice this opinion very loudly. And again with the screaming.

As you finally get everyone settled into bed, you receive a telephone call. It's your boss letting you know that there's been an issue and you are no longer getting paid for your job, nor is any payment coming anytime soon. He hangs up without even saying thank you.

And tomorrow you get to do it all over again.




(This should go without saying, but here it is, I love staying home, I don't want to go back to work, but I just needed to get this out.)

Peyton: The Middle Schooler

Oh, Middle School, I was so scared of you. I've been scared of you since Peyton first walked through the door to kindergarten. Puberty, eighth graders, changing classes, and extra homework loomed over my head for 6 years before Peyton even stepped foot on the middle school campus. I may be shooting myself in the foot, but so far, I've been so, so pleasantly surprised.

Peyton has walked out the front door every morning so far with nary a complaint. He has walked home every day and not once called me to come pick him up halfway. HE CLEANED HIS ROOM this past weekend and it looked as good as when I did it. He's gotten his homework done without a fight. I should have sent him to middle school YEARS ago!

The first day of school was rougher on me than him. I had gotten up early to take Shey to school, so I could walk him to his class, and as I was pulling into the driveway, Peyton was already outside, dressed, with his friends ready to take off. I sputtered, "Did dad take your picture?" Yes. "Do you have your lunch?" Yes. "Did you eat breakfast?" No, but I'm ok. "No, wait here, I'll get you some money."

Anything to slow down his leaving for just a minute, so I had time to process.

I stood there in the driveway, watching him walk out of the cul-de-sac and an unexpected wave hit me. The tears welled up and I fought the urge to get into the car and follow him. I've been dropping him with others since he was 12 weeks old, but watching him walk away, seemingly all grown up, broke my heart a little. It was a huge reminder that my time with Peyton living in my house is on the downward slope. I've been so wrapped up in caring for a newborn, baby, then toddler, that he's matured without hardly a notice. I've got to get better at that.

I know middle school won't be all fun and games and life will be difficult at times, but I know we can get through it together.

Elizabeth: A Myriad of Months

I'm so glad that I faithfully documented Elizabeth's first year, but a little disapointed in myself that I let it drop from there. I'd tell myself that I'd remember all the little sweet and sour things that she does, but it's hard and I know there is already so much I've forgotten. I am going to get better at documenting our lives, even if it's just for me and my ever failing memory.



My sweet girl, where do I begin? Staying home with a toddler has been an adventure, to say the least. Especially a very independent, strong willed and loud toddler. Shortly after her second birthday, Elizabeth's vocabulary exploded and she gets very frustrated if you don't understand what she is trying to say. We often quote the scene from Little Nemo when Marlin is talking to Squirt and says, "You're really cute, but I don't understand you." While words are becoming more and more discernible, E still has her own little language. A precious little language that I'll miss as she grows older.



Right now, she is "painting" her nails with a highlighter. And such is life.

She loves her brothers fiercely and they are referred to as "My Peyton" and "My Shey". She's a big fan of Henry Hugglemonster, Team Umizoomi, and Dora. I admit, we probably watch a little too much TV, but hey, she can count to 12 in English, 5 or so in Spanish and she knows her shapes and ABC's. Go Disney!



Her smile is contagious and everywhere we go, she steals the show. The other day, we spent two hours at the orthodontist and the office loved her. They even "kidnapped" her for a bit so I could actually pay attention to the plan for Shey's teeth and sign my life away. If someone does make the mistake of not paying her any mind, she will stare at them like, "Hello! Look how cute I am!"

And now, I'm getting the highlighter manicure



Oh, E, you are my Joy!

Holy Hiatus, Batman!

Where does the time go? I happened to pull up Blogger last night and realized it had been since January that I posted last. How odd, when for so, so long, blogging was a part of my everyday life. Apparently, I had a lot more free time working than I do staying at home. Or maybe staring at a computer all day just lent itself to spewing forth my thoughts for the World Wide Web to see.

I've missed you, little blog of mine. I promise to pay you more attention in the future.

I'm not sure how much catch up I should try and cram into this post. Maybe I'll just make a point to sit down once a day or so and fill in the details that way. Starting tomorrow. Ha. Today, I actually have quite a bit going on starting with doing a little P90 x then dropping off my first thirty-one order and finally meeting with my direct upline for thirty-one.

Wasn't that nifty how I got that in? Yes, I'm now a consultant for thirty-one gifts. (Poor Tamara, that's all I talk about anymore and now she has to read it on my blog too). Here's a quick link, if you're interested, then I promise to let it go for at least a few posts. Erika's page

Woot! Woot! For blogging again!

ING Half Marathon

I doubt many people sleep well the night before an early morning race. Anticipation and knowing that your alarm is set for an ungodly hour generally has one checking the time throughout the night. Add in the fact that most of the time you're in a strange bed makes the idea of running 13.1 miles even crazier than it sounds on its own. And yet, here I am, signed up for 3 races in 3 months. Well, two now as I thankfully made it through race one yesterday.

I spent Saturday night with my friend and her husband who were also signed up for the race and we headed out at 5 am Sunday morning. The ride was a little nerve wracking, not knowing how traffic would be closer to the start, wondering if I'd have time for that last bathroom break before the starting gun and once again rethinking my decision to participate in the craziness. I should have known better. There were plenty of bathrooms open and once you're in the corral, there is the 30 minute wait as the 25,000 people slowly make their way to the line.

My initial plan was to run the first 3 miles at a slow pace and then start my training intervals of run 3 minutes, walk 1. Word of caution, those first 3 miles, you will feel really good, great, in fact, and your idea of a steady pace increases exponentially until you find yourself beating your previous 5k PR by 2 to 3 minutes. I was so pleased with how I felt that I kept right on running more than I planned. I kept telling myself to take it easy, but the adrenaline and the fact that my friend is a runner not an interval-er, beat out my good sense. She had promised to stay with me and I didn't want to let her down. Never again. I'm not sure how much it would have helped, but walking more earlier may have helped me at the end. At the time, though, it actually felt better to do a slow jog than the intervals.

At mile 5, I ate a couple of GU blocks and for some reason, they didn't set well with me and out of the blue, at mile 6, I hit a wall. My legs felt good, I was breathing fine, but my stomach felt weird and quite honestly, I just wanted to sit down and quit. I expected to feel some of this around mile 8 or 9, but it hitting me so early really threw me for a loop. The thought of not even being halfway made me want to cry. And this is where runners will tell you it gets mental. I just kept telling myself I was fine, that I had run this many miles, and more, plenty of times without incident. And I soldiered on.

THANKFULLY, by 7.5 miles, I broke through the wall and the next 3 miles went by smoothly. I was feeling good again, even jogging more than walking. Oh, but then miles 11 and 12 came and my legs decided they were done playing nicely. If I jogged, my legs felt better, but the bottoms of my feet were a ball of nerves and I could feel the nice new blisters on both of my toes. If I walked, my feet felt better, but my calves and hamstrings rebelled and tightened to the point of some serious pain. Even though I had hoped to finish strong, I walked most of the last mile with short bursts of speed. My time was still about where I wanted it to be, so I thought better to be able to get across the finish line upright than to stop with one mile to my goal. One poor woman I saw must have been having a similar and worse problem because she was leaning on her two friends and her legs were locked straight. I felt really bad for her. Sucks to go all that way to have something like that happen at the end.

All the sudden, I looked up and holy cow, it was the finish line! I ran as fast as my poor legs could carry me that last tenth of a mile and finished with an official time of 2:48. As soon as I crossed the line, I could have broken down and sobbed. The pure relief of completing the race hits you in the face and many people were wiping their eyes. To be honest, I was not feeling well at that point. Where was my high?!

I found my friend (we had gotten separated at mile 10) and she took one look at my goosebumped arms and started shoving food at me. It was the strangest feeling, like I was going to pass out or throw up. Now that I look back, I didn't hydrate enough leading up to the race and being sick the week before probably didn't help either. At this point, I was seriously reconsidering my plan to complete two more halves.

Once again, thankfully, the feeling passed within 10 minutes or so and then Finally,the high started setting in. One day later, I'm still excited that I have two more races to do. They will be fun for different reasons, but I definitely will do better leading unto the day of the race.

I don't want to scare anyone who may be training for their first race, but moreso let you know that yes, it may suck at times, but you can do it and it will still be amazing.

And Love Some More

Whew, so how about that election? That sure brought the crazies out, didn't it? I'm not sure why people think angrily blasting their opinions on Facebook will win people over, but there you go. To me, it becomes less about the candidates or even the issues and more of a "I'm right and you're wrong."

When I was thinking about writing this post, I was incredibly frustrated and even angry. In a round about way, I found a status of someone that I'm no longer "friends" with that professes to be a Christian and a preacher too. The status was about the two candidates and quite frankly was incredibly racist. I was horrified and my initial reaction was to fire back a response, but I didn't. I've been trying to work on opening conversations with people, but I've tried before with this person and it just became a spitting match. I then thought about posting a scathing status myself, but that's not really appropriate either. So lucky reader, you get my thoughts.

I know I've mentioned before that I'm studying and slowly reading the New Testament to establish my own belief system. I've also been reading the history of the times and how the scriptures relate to what's happening. I've been wanting to write my thoughts but like any good English major, I've wanted to conduct research and check things before putting my thoughts to paper. Let's be honest though, the chances of me having time for all that and the energy are slim, so here are my initial observations. Actually, it's mainly just one: love.

Everything comes from love.

John 3:16 - For God so Loved the world . . .

John 13:34 - A new commandment I give to you, that you Love one anoher . . .

Galations 5:22 - But the fruit of the Spirit is Love . . .

Romans 13:9-10 - For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

I Corithians 13 - But the greatest of these is Love.

I John 4:7 - God is Love

In the New International Version of the New Testament, the word love appears 232 times. You know how many times hell is mentioned? Roughly 23. And some of those appear to refer to a physical place in Jerusalem that was the city dump. The area was always on fire.

I don't know about you, but 232 seems a little bigger than 23. And consistently, the scriptures refer to Love as the greatest, the most important, the first, etc. First and foremost, this is how you are to act. You are to love those around you, so they know you are of Me (God).

I am so tired of the phrase Love the sinner, hate the sin. If you love someone, truly, you don't treat them that way regardless of the sin. I love my children, I would not say the things that are being said about fellow humans to my children. I love my friends, we may disagree, but I would never attack them the way some of our fellow humans are being attacked. It is amazing we are able to bring any of the lost to Jesus the way some of these "Christians" are acting. Here's the thing, folks, we are ALL sinners. All fall short of the glory of God. My sin of over indulging on food, or alcohol, or gossip is no better than this or that person's sin of gambling or promescuity or lying.

We need to come together and say, hey, maybe this other stuff doesn't matter so much; we should all strive to take care of the "least of these". The people who don't have fresh water, the children without families, the families without homes. The people who need our help. Let's focus our attentions on that for a while.

There's a part in a Casting Crowns' song that says, "They're on the way to You, but they're stumbling over me." Let's show the love of Jesus and let God worry about the rest.

Love

Peyton and I have been at odds this past week. I tend to have the emotions of a straight line, where he is definitely a zig-zag. At times, it can be very difficult for me to handle the ups and downs of his personality. The extremes drive me nuts and it seemed to be really bad last week.

It becomes a vicious cycle where he will act out seeking attention and because of his behavior, all I want to do is send him from the room. So then the cycle begins again. I can see this and when he's not around, I'll build a resolve to stop it, but then he'll walk in the room acting crazy, and I'll just send him away.

Also, he and Shey have just been mean to each other lately and I've been at a loss as what to do. Then a stroke of brilliance hit. Love.

Love has been on my mind these past few months. Isn't that what it all boils down too? If we are always motivated by love, the choices become clear. In times of frustration, I need extra love to see me through. It's hard to stay aggravated when hugging someone.

And so my idea. Whenever the boys are frustrating me, I'm going to "wrap them in love." literally. I've tried it a few times, and they always start laughing and the situation is somewhat diffused. Even this morning, on the way to the car, the name calling started. I felt myself tense, getting ready to scold, but instead I called Peyton to me and Shey started laughing. I threw my arms around him, squeezed tight and told him I loved him.

I know it won't solve all the problems, but if we start in a place of love rather than anger, I know it will make a difference.

Happy Birthday, Mama Tew

I don't remember the exact date, Elizabeth was only a couple of months old and I had flown with all three kids to visit my parents before school started. As customary, I made the drive north to Alabaster to visit my best friend and let our kids play together for the day. Funny, Peyton and David, although only seeing each other maybe once a year, have formed a bond and friendship that I hope will span their lifetimes just like ours, and Peyton looks forward to these visits as much as I do.

On the day we were set to visit, Tamara had an obligation arise, so Pat came up to visit with me and help watch the kids. I can't say anything spectacular happened that day, there was no feeling of the impending loss that would occur less than a year later, or deep philosophical conversations about anything in particular. Mainly, we sat on the couch together chatting. Pat cooed over Elizabeth, we both fussed at Tamara, even though she wasn't there to defend herself, about the state of the kids' rooms and we folded laundry.

Pat had been intwined in my life since second grade as my best friend's mom, but this was the first time we had spent a significant amount time together as adults. She was a little short of breath, but that was the only indication of the battle she was enduring. Just a normal day, but now one that is forever seared in my memory.

At one point, Madalyn wanted to follow the boys around the neighborhood, but Pat wouldn't let her go. She impressed upon me that I had to watch over Elizabeth more protectively since she was a girl. I can still picture Madalyn leaning into her as Pat played with her hair.

Eventually, Tamara returned and I packed up my three kids to head home. To be honest, I couldn't help when I first arrived to be a little annoyed that I wouldn't get the hours I craved to gab with my best friend, but by the end of the day, I found I had quite enjoyed myself and as Tamara often mentions, the peace that Pat exuded.

Today, Pat would have celebrated her 66th birthday, much too young to be taken from us. I know though, she's there, praying for her family and friends, cheering them on and probably still fussing over the state of her grandchildren's rooms. I love you, Mama Tew!

According to Pi

I'm currently reading "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel and I had to share this passage. Pi is a Hindu boy and early in the novel, he comes across a Catholic priest. Pi had no understanding of Christianity, so the Father explains the story of Jesus and the following are some of Pi's thoughts. It's a little long, but I love the pure, unencumbered train of thought.

" That a god should put up with adversary, I could understand. The gods of Hinduism face their fair share of thieves, bullies, kidnappers and usurpers. . . . But humiliation? Death? I couldn't imagine Lord Krishna consenting to be stripped naked, whipped, mocked, dragged through the streets and, to top it off, crucified - and at the hands of mere humans to boot. I'd never heard of a Hindu god dying . ..divinity should not be blighted by death. It's wrong. ... Why would God wish that upon Himself? Why make dirty what is beautiful, spoil what is perfect?

Love. That was Father Martin's answer.

. . .

This Son, on the other hand, who goes hungry, who suffers from thirst, who gets tired, who is sad, who is anxious, who is heckled and harassed, who has to put up with followers who don't get it and opponents who don't respect him- what kind of god is that?

. . .

This Son is a god who spent most of his time telling stories, talking. This son is a god who walked, a pedestrian god- and in a hot place, at that- with a stride like any human stride ... This son is a god who died in three hours, with moans, gasps and laments. What is there to inspire in this Son?

...

I couldn't get him out of my head. Still can't. I spent three solid days thinking about him. The more he bothered me, the less I could forget him. And the more I learned about him, the less I wanted to leave him."

Month Eighteen

Dear Boo,

Today you turn 18 months. Oh the time, she is flying. When I look at your little toddler body, it's hard to remember my sweet, tiny newborn, so new and defenseless. You've turned into quite the stinker. Very opinionated and mischievous. Already when I tell you no, you cut those big, brown eyes my way and try it again just to see what I'll do.

Sunday, you decided you'd had enough of the crib, so you climbed out. I lowered the mattress another knotch and you climbed out again. I mean, really, isn't 18 months too young to be making such big decisions. Needless to say, the past few days have been a little rough in the sleeping department. Right now, you're asleep on your floor, but you've been lying there an hour and a half, so I'm not complaining. Be thankful you won't wake with the aches and pains of a 35 yr old body!

You are absolutely fearless, my baby girl. Transversing the playground equipment like kids twice your age, flinging yourself down slides and climbing up ladders. You scare me sometimes, but it also makes me proud. No one will get in your way. The world is yours.

You're starting to "talk" more and more and you are so earnest with your stories that I know once the right words come, your brothers will have a hard time getting a word in edgewise. You already like bossing them around and beating them up.

I love you, My wild child. I could never imagined how wonderful life would be at home taking care of you.

Love,

Mama

Father, Forgive Them

Tenth Avenue North has a relatively new song out titled "Losing." One of the main refrains is "Father, Forgive them. They don't know what they've been doing." I really like the song and that one line led me to think about where those words come from, some of Jesus' last before He died on the cross. The phrase really got stuck in my head, and I decided I wanted to look into it deeper.

Interestingly enough, Luke offers the only account of Jesus' words and my Bible's footnote states that some early manuscripts do not contain the sentence at all. Then I looked into the situation, according to Luke, Jesus was on the cross at the time and from what I read, I assume he's talking to the very people who put him there. As an aside, Luke is also the only account of Jesus forgiving the criminal hanging to his side.

I've heard this phrase all my life, we even sang a song with it in chorus, but I don't think I've ever really thought about the implications. Yes, I was taught that Jesus forgave them, but it was almost too glossed over. Really think about it for a minute, Jesus asked for their forgiveness, even though he stated they didn't know what they were doing. There was no call for repentance. There was no baptism. There wasn't a prayer asking Jesus into their hearts. Just forgiveness.

I'm not even sure where I can lead with this, for now it's just blowing my mind that forgiveness was given without any hoops being jumped through.

At this point in my life as I read through the Bible as an adult and with fresh eyes, I see a Gospel of Grace and Love, not rules and burdens. If Jesus offered forgiveness to the very people who were killing him, how much moreso will he bless those acting in love towards their neighbors?

Obviously, I'm not saying this give us free reign to go and do as we please, just something to think about when we run across people who claim you have to do x, y and z to get into Heaven. We have to remember there is no doing on our part, it's a gift and when we truly appreciate the gift, then we can respond to others with the same love.

Here and Now

It's been so long since I've sat down to write. Blog post or anything else for that matter, that I'm not sure I remember how. Where to begin . . .

To put it bluntly, this year has sucked. Big time. As good as last year was for me, this year has been ten times worse, emotionally. Every time I think I'm coming to the surface for air, something else grabs my foot and pulls me under the waves again. I've been sewing a lot and I started back exercising over a month ago in an effort to improve my mood, between those two activities and taking care of the family and somewhat cleaning the house, little time is left for anything else. (I have to interject here that Elizabeth just farted really loudly. That made me lol, she continues to be a source of joy even through the despair.)

I have been doing some reading, most recently Love Wins by Rob Bell and now The Gospel According to Jesus by, um, well, it's in my reading room and I'm too lazy to go look. I'd like to sit and write all my thoughts on this newfound quest of knowledge, but for now I'm just going to ease back into this blogging thing. Let's just say I'm finding people that can intelligently articulate thoughts I've had for years and have the Biblical and historical knowledge to back it up. It's very freeing. It's Good News, in fact. I recommend having open conversations on these matters without judgement whenever possible. It's highly stimulating.

I think I'm going to try and write here more often, record my thoughts as I read through these books and Testaments. For now, I need to put the children to bed.

Raw

I'm a little peeved with someone. I would say I'm not on speaking terms with Him, but in reality over the past few months, I've argued and pleaded and railed to Him more than ever. And in case you haven't figured it out, and want to step away from my blog now lest you be struck by lightning, it's God I'm talking about.

I've been behaving like an obstinate, three year old little girl who repeatedly asks why, why, why all day long.

Why did my grandmother suffer from a disease for most of her adult life that slowly atrophied her muscles to the point that she passed away when her lungs couldn't work anymore?

Why did my best friend's mom beat cancer only to have it return with a vengeance one year shy of her free and clear?

Why did a thirty-four year old woman lose her child mere days before she was due to come into this world and then find out a month later that she is also afflicted with stage four cancer?

And there are so many more examples of heartache and despair that I've heard from friends and family to recount here.

I've gotten pretty raw with God, why are we even here? Why are we programmed to feel human emotions when we are supposed to be striving for spiritual ones? Why are certain people burdened with desires that aren't healthy? Oh, the list goes on and on.

Obviously, I can rationally tell myself it all comes back to sin. The fall in the garden of Eden, but even that leads to an onslaught of whys? Why are we being punished for two peoples' mistake? Why create a world where there's so much misery?

And yes, I can tell myself the answers and I know there is a plan much bigger than me. I know, I know. But when I've walked around the past few months with a constant lump in my throat and on the verge of tears, I'm not really thinking with my head and rational thought escapes me. That little girl comes out and she is fighting mad. Wailing and tearing her clothes, fling herself on the ground, kicking her feet mad.

*Edited to add: I cannot make this stuff up, seriously, 10 minutes after I posted this, two nice ladies came knocking on my door and shared this scripture with me:

Psalms 37: 10-11 A little while, and the wicked will be no more; though you look for them, they will not be found. But the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of PEACE.

Month Twelve

My sweet, sweet baby,

Today you turn ONE YEAR OLD! If this year had gone any faster, you'd be ten. I try and stop almost every day and soak you in, but still the days and weeks fly by.



You're finally walking more, but it seems to be only when you want to and crawling is still faster, so you'll resort to that when necessary. You're definitely a baby on the move and barely sit still except to eat and drink a bottle. We've switched you to soy milk and you did that like a champ, but you're not crazy about the sippy cup. In your mind, only water goes in that cup and you refuse to drink your milk from it yet. It's ok, no one generally goes to college still drinking a bottle, and I doubt you will either.



You're so curious and smart already, figuring things out for yourself. You'll sit and watch Mickey and play for twenty to thirty minutes already. You're pretty much eating whatever we are eating and love bananas.



Things still go in your mouth, but not quite as bad as it was and you've even started giving me and daddy little things you pick up from the ground. We took you to the beach a few weeks ago, and you did great, playing and digging without eating the sand.



You love to make silly faces and noises and it's the quickest way to make you laugh. Your big brothers especially like tempting you with crazy sounds and no one can make you laugh like them. You definitely have your own personality and an idea of how life should be, and if you don't get your way, you're not afraid to show it. Thankfully, you're easily distracted and the screaming doesn't last too long.



Sadly, right before you turned 11 months old, Mammaw, whom you were named after, passed away. I hate you didn't get a chance to know each other better, but I know she's watching over us from Heaven and she loves you very much.

You continue to bring joy and sunshine to my life and I'm so proud to be your Mama!

I love you with all my heart, baby girl.

Month Ten

Whoa Baby,

It hit me the other day that you are almost ONE YEAR OLD already. I admit, I was a little sad. Even though I try and stop everyday and soak in the moment, I find I already can't remember how tiny you were, and the days I spent holding you in my arms for hours at a time are fuzzy memories. You are so, so busy now that I can't even imagine you sitting still for a minute, much less an hour.



This month, you started clapping, waving bye-bye, and shaking your head no. The one surprise to me was you didn't start walking, even though you stand on your own all the time and push random objects around. I promise I'm not rushing you, but learning to walk would be nice. You're loath to sit in your stroller for long and walking would alleviate a little of this aggravation when it's not safe to crawl. It's ok though, take your time.



Another sweet thing you do is lie your head on pillows, pretending to go night-night. And you've started showing us more deliberate signs of affection, like lying your head on our shoulders or trying to give kisses.



Everything still goes in your mouth and I'm constantly fishing random things from between your cheeks and teeth. It doesn't matter how often I vacuum, you still find that one little piece of dirt.



You're so smart, baby girl, already. Curious and vocal, the light of our lives. Even when I get a little overwhelmed, I still thank God everyday for choosing me to be your mama.



I love you, Little Bit.

The Crazy Thread Lady

I've always wanted to learn to sew. I thought it would be super cool to whip up costumes for the kids, an airy shirt for me, or a lovely baby blanket. I also know me though. I'm bad about running head first into a project or new activity and not thinking it through. I love to give people my money and not get any return ( see Southern Living at Home debacle). I've gotten better over the years at reeling myself in, but I've still been leery about taking the could-be-expensive steps to becoming a seamstress.

But then came Elizabeth and Pinterest. Oh, at the precious baby clothes I could create at a fraction of the cost. And once again, I was hooked on learning to sew. The problem was, I didn't have a machine, nor a job. Add to that the fact that I had never actually touched a machine, I was pretty much in the dark on where to even begin.

My Mammaw had a Singer that was tucked away in a cabinet that had since taken residence at my mom's house, so when the kids and I went to visit in November, I had mom lift it up and show me some basics. I thought if I played around with it for a while, I could determine if I really wanted to learn a new skill or if it would fall away like so many other "interests".

Well, long after mom left to take care of other things, I tinkered and cleaned and *gasp* read the manual to get a better feel for everything her machine could do. And I was hooked. When my mom offered to bring the Singer and Mammaw's sewing chest to my house over the holidays, even though I took a while to answer, I said yes in my heart right away. Mammaw wasn't a master seamstress, in fact, I don't really remember her ever sewing at all. My mom would sometimes hem our clothes, or fix a tear, but sewing wasn't a focal point of my childhood. However, the cabinet with her hideaway machine and the incredibly cool chest with a rainbow of thread and other neat doodads was. Without getting overly emotional, let's just say, I'm so very happy to have it in my home and wanting to use it.

I've now become the woman who scours the Internet for new fabrics and free patterns, who awaits Elizabeth's naps with anticipation so I can create something new. My floors have gotten a little dirtier and I'm covered in loose threads, but I'm having fun and hopefully learning something that I can pass down to my little ones. Maybe one day, they will bring the memories to their houses.

Month Nine

Oh Little Bit,

You're just determined to keep growing, huh? You have officially been out longer than you were in and my life will never be the same.



Everywhere we go, people can't get over how happy you are. That's what I hear all the time, "She's so happy." Except for the few times I don't dress you in all pink and then it's, "He's so happy." Either way, you are one happy baby. As long as no one else is holding you, that is. :)



Month nine has been crazy, crazy. Your brothers were on winter break, you got two more teeth at the same time (making that five), you started pulling up/cruising, and you had a cold. Sleep was not your friend, nor mine, and then you weren't so happy.



Thankfully, I think we have moved mostly past that for now and the past few nights, you have been sleeping well again. Of course, now you are trying to stand all on your own, so I'm sure things will get hairy again in a couple of weeks. In fact, during our photo shoot, you tried to stand upright from the ground. No taking it easy for you, like slowly letting go of the couch, nope, you just want to stand up on your own.



My time is up. Your brother just woke you. I love you, sweet baby. Now and Always.



Mama

Month Eight

Dear On The Go,

Busy, busy, busy all day long pretty much sums up our lives this month. You are on the move all day and with both your brothers playing soccer, I am on the move almost every night. Not wanting to sit still conflicted with my idea for a photo shoot, but I guess this is a more accurate portrayal of life right now.





And when you're not moving, there's the funny faces you love to make us laugh with.





And let's not forget when you need to take a break and chew on something, anything, just get it in my mouth!



Ok, mom, here's one cute face for you.



Now, that's enough. Go away.



I love you, baby girl. You keep me on my toes.

Mama

Courage

Sometimes God whispers to you. Sometimes you think He's not there at all. Sometimes though, you get a big ole' "HELLO! HEAR ME!" Oh boy, did I get one of those last night.

I guess the past year or so, I've been making a conscious effort to be more verbal about my faith. I'm definitely not out preaching on the streets, but I'll try to work little things into a conversation, mainly it circles around whatever series is going on at church. That's easy though, Church by the Glades stickers are all over Coral Springs and in an area where people generally prefer to party rather than pray, our church has seemed to become the "cool" place to be in our little city.

I'll be honest though, I don't sport a Church by the Glades sticker on my car. I try to justify it by saying that Larry doesn't like things like that on our cars, and he doesn't, but it goes deeper than that. If I have something on my car declaring I go to church, then there's that added accountability when I may be acting in ways "unbecoming a Christian." (Isn't that a phrase from our past!)

Maybe I cut someone off going down the street. Maybe I was driving a little too fast. Or maybe I had a beer at a restaurant and someone will see me get into my car. All of these things normal people do, but I say I don't want to set a bad example, so I chose to be no example at all.

What's worse though than a simple sticker for my car is I don't actively share my beliefs with those I love most. Obviously, Larry knows I go to church, but it's not something we talk about often. Oh, I'll try to bring it up now and again, but it makes him uncomfortable, so mostly I let it go. Or my in-laws, I invited them to Elizabeth's dedication and they came, but I haven't extended the offer again. Even with some of my closest friends, I'm mute. Funny, how I can be so open with people I barely know and so tight lipped with those that matter most to me.

Of course, it's easy to play the part with people who don't know the you who's not always "perfect."

So, anyway, back to the big, blaring "How do you do" from God. Last night, I was listening to Casting Crowns new song, "Courageous" and I was thinking how true it is. We were made to be courageous, but we're standing on the sidelines. After the kids went to bed, I hopped on my new favorite addiction, Pinterest and on the front page, Kristin had posted the following verse from Joshua 1:9

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

I mean, seriously? How much clearer could it be? So obviously, I need to do some serious soul searching and I have got to start being the person I should and want to be.

My first step is to commission by BFF,
Crazy Mama to create me a Courage necklace as a constant reminder of this lesson I so needed to hear. My next step is to pray, pray, pray and open my mouth a little more. It's scary. I'm even nervous to write this post and put it "out there" on Facebook, but if I can't even do that, well, that's just sad.

So, here we go. Pastor David always says, if you feel excited but also so scared you might just pee your pants, then you are probably right where God wants you to be. I may just be joining Whoopi and buying my some Poise. oh, ha, ha, ha.